Cute_Kitten

Aww, I'm sure Gabby would love the hugs! Human insecurities are our own worst enemies, so I totally understand. When writing this, I've never had body issues as severe as Gabby's, but my tapping into how my own insecurities made me feel, it made it way too easy to slide into her head space.

I second the notion!!

I like Rilensien!!

I've bought 2 from ABU. I love 'em. The snaps hold tight even with a heavy duty saturated diaper like an Inspire Incontrol. the material the onesies are made out of is a soft, thick cotton- it's not flimsy or see through.

We so need to make a word for this type of story. Long Rifl-ian? Long Riflian? Like how stories written with Orwell's concepts are said to be Orwellian?

Thanks. Personalias is on hiatus- he posted a note on his deviant art account back in December. It basically said (I'm paraphrasing here) he's got some personal stuff going on and he's taking time off to focus on that.

Aww thanks. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. A lot of the pacing is due to Personalias's plotting genius.

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Part one of a brand new story, "The Chikan" is available on my patreon. Updates and new parts of older stories such as Bad Seed, Naughty Christmas, and Pumpkin Patch will be available on my patreon at least 2 weeks before appearing anywhere else. Please consider supporting me. https://www.patreon.com/Cute_Kitten "Okay." I mumbled, looking down. I couldn't see my sandals past the bulge of the swollen, soggy diaper. I frowned down at the cartoon animals smiling up at me. I was still smarting from having yet another accident and was in no mood for her fondling. Sure, I enjoyed it on the horse- hell, her rubbing me in a wet, warm diaper felt good. The memory of it sent shudders down my spine. Oh boy. Oh boy. Oh boy, had it felt good. Until the rush of hormones ebbed and reality sank in. I wet my diaper again. The pleasure had been too good to deny. I peeked up at Skye. Her good humor seemed restored. "So, Gavi, what do you want for lunch?" "Um…." I was more focused on the wet diaper swinging between my legs, rubbing my inner thighs and forcing me into a waddle. "Oh, I know. It's a little different than what you're used to, but you'll like it." I paused, and tugged on Skye's hand to force her to stop. "Something normal." I put my hands on my hips- my diaper covered hips- and tried to stare sternly up at her. Skye's taste in food was weird as her personality. Perfect example; on one of our dates we were at some weird restaurant Skye had picked- Indian? Asian? Indonesian? I don't really remember- and she drank kopi luwak. Coffee brewed from beans pooped out by a civet. "Normal is relative. And boring. There's the Safari Food Court with ethnic African food, or the Rainforest Cafe with South American-" "American normal. Something I'd eat." I pouted. When it came to food, I learned not to trust Skye any further than I could throw a fat sumo wrestler. "How about these!" Skye chirped, hands under her breasts, lifting them up as she stepped close to me, practically smothering my face in her cleavage. "Skye!" I blushed and stepped back with a crinkle. "That's not food!" Skye laughed madly. "To some it is! Babies drink their mommy's milk. That's what these were made for." I stared at her like she'd suddenly sprouted another head. Did I ever mention that my girlfriend is weird? Was she implying she'd nurse me? That I was a baby because I had an accident…or two….and was now in a wet diaper? More than likely she was just teasing me. "Normal food." I stated again. "Milk is perfectly normal." "For a baby. I'm not a baby. No baby food." "Alright, alright. No baby food." Skye promised with a huff. "We'll get something boring and more American than a drunk redneck." She turned her head and suddenly perked right up. "Oh, hotdogs! That was easy!" The path dipped down to the left and gave way to a small food stall advertising hot dogs, with an outdoor seating area framed by landscaped shrubbery and pretty, seasonal flowers. Pigeons milled about the tables and chairs, pecking at bits of french fries and bun on the ground. She grabbed my hand and merrily skipped off suddenly, yanking me along. With my swollen, wt diaper I had trouble keeping up. My legs spread wide in a crinkly waddle while her long, sleek legs ate up the ground. How did she move so fast in those high wedge sandals? Between the fast pace and the tugging on my hand, I wobbled, off balance. "Skye!" "Hm? She slowed unexpectedly and I still wobbled, free arm pin wheeling. She giggled, taking my other hand in hers and steadied me. "There you go, Gavi-poo. I'll go slower so you can keep up." "I can keep up!" I insisted, cheeks red. "Sure, sure." Skye just giggled again. We set off, not holding hands. Skye moved fast, almost in line and I sped up too, trying to keep up. I got a pretty good waddle-run going on. I smiled, a small part of myself feeling proud for figuring this gait out. Several strides in and my balance went off-kilter. I wobbled to and fro, diaper swaying heavily between my legs when I lost my balance completely. "Gavin!" Skye caught me, her slim arms around my thin waist. She steadied me. I blushed, mumbling a quiet thank you. I just wasn't used to moving around in a wet diaper. Skye held my hand, leading me at a calm walk over to the food line. A tiny feeling of security, of safety welled up in me with Skye holding my hand. I frowned, wondering at that feeling. Surely I was a big boy who could walk all on his own. I just enjoyed holding her hand because she was my girlfriend, my Skye. That was all. I was so busy mulling over all this I barely paid attention as Skye ordered. Two girls manned the hot dog booth; both wore the green t-shirt with the zoo's logo and khaki shorts. No diapers for them. One girl, a curly redhead, leaned over the counter to grin manically at me. "Oh, what a cutie you have!" She gushed to Skye. I blushed and scooted behind Skye. It was rare for girls to flirt with me, and I was never really sure how to handle it. "I know it." Skye preened, pleased as if the girl had been complimenting her. "We'll take the Mother and Cub special, extra Formula." She ordered then slid over the change as the girl rung her up. I stayed behind Skye for the rest of the exchange, and I didn't pay attention to the tray. I assumed they would be nearly the same. I mean, a hot dog was a hot dog, right? Wrong, Gavin. Oh so very wrong. Sure, Skye got a regular hot dog. On a bun. With toppings. I got a regular hot dog, too. Except mine was all cut up like a toddler's, served on a paper plate shaped like some zoo animal, and served with a plastic toddler fork. Skye picked a shady, clean table and set us both up for lunch. I just stared at the tray and crossed my arms while Skye happily dug into her own food. She's tall and slender and quite the successful stripper. And she could eat like a pig sometimes. She wasn't one of those Barbie girls that existed on bottled water and lettuce. If it was good, she'd eat it. That was another one of the things I liked about her; a girl who wasn't afraid of food. I think she just had a high metabolism or she burned it off with all that pole dancing. And I was NOT going to eat that toddler chow. I think I'd rather have civet poop coffee. Maybe. "Gavi-poo, what's wrong, baby? Eat your nummy hot dog so you'll have lots of energy for the rest of our big day!" Skye cooed, leaning across the outdoor table. The sun shone annoyingly bright in the blue sky; no chance of rain washing out the day. I scrunched my face up, pushing away the childish paper plate with the colorful blue plastic fork, made wide so that small, unsteady hands could easily grasp it. I wanted a regular round, plain white paper plate like she had. Like all the grown ups had. My cheeks flushed at the thought. I was a grown up, too, even if I was sitting in a slightly damp diaper as childishly colorful as the animal-shaped paper plate. I puffed my cheeks out, refusing to say outloud I wanted a new diaper. Pants. Big boy pants. I wanted my big boy pants because I was a big boy. "You like hot dogs. If the fork's too hard, just use your fingers, baby." She cajoled in a sing-song tone. "Don't you want to see what Zoo Friend you got?" Her fingers pushed the plate insistently towards me. "Have some milky." She pushed a blue plastic sippy cup with a green lid closer to me. I pushed them back. "No." My diaper rustled loudly as I moved on the hard metal chair. I crossed my arms and turned my head away. Families sat around us, mostly mothers and their little boys, with a few grandmothers and daddies sprinkled in. The further the day progressed, the more baby boys popped up like dandelions growing wild. Like me, most of them wore just a t-shirt, sandals, and a gargantuan diaper plastered with happy cartoon animals. Some wore just shoes and a diaper. I stared around at the crowd, feeling smaller inside with each passing second, as if I truly belonged with the babies. A few lucky ducks had shortalls with puffy diaper butts and obvious metal snaps in the crotch, but at least their diapers were covered. A few pre-school aged boys near us reluctantly fed themselves using the same despised, childish plasticware and plate I had. Across the outdoor cafeteria seating, a mother opened up her sleeveless blouse and brought her squirming, squalling infant to her breast. The safari print diaper poked out the leg holes of the yellow onesie. "Gavin." The melodic tone withered to a sharp command as she picked up the fork and speared a dime sized slice of hotdog. She brought it up to my face; the motion made her breasts jiggle gently in her low cut top. The bared swell of creamy flesh immediately snagged my attention with toddler-like fascination. I wanted to look away, but my eyes had a mind of their own. Was it just me, or did they look a little bigger? A little fuller and firmer like they were swelling. A strange craving for milk filled my mind. My mouth hung slightly open; my lips wet. Was I drooling? Skye shoved the fork between my lips. "Good boy!" She cooed in a happy sing-song voice again. I frowned, but part of me- the same part that got all warm and tingly when I wet my pants then my diaper- glowed with happiness at the syrupy praise. "Come on, baby, you need to chew." Sky encouraged as I mechanically ground hotdog between my teeth. My gaze stayed focused on the gentle swell of her bosom, mind in a hazy cloud of pleasure from her warm tone and thoughts of milk. "Here comes the airplane, in for a landing." She dipped and and zig-zagged the fork through the air, making airplane noises as she tried to feed me another bite. I closed my lips, refusing another bite. I was not a baby. She did not have to trick me into eating. A small part of me thrilled at the airplane game. What other noises would an imaginative girl like her come up with? I mentally shoved those beguiling thoughts away forcefully. "I can do it myself." I insisted, cheeks turning red as I quickly picked up the childish sippy cup and took a long drink of the Baby Formula so she couldn't stuff any more hotdog in my face. It was chill and sweet; the more I drank it, the more it grew on me. Must be an acquired taste. "Baby, you weren't feeding yourself. We've got lots of fun ahead. Don't you want to see the rest of the animals? I'm just helping you since you're having trouble." Skye smiled, reaching out to ruffle my hair. I tried to duck, but she was too fast. Her hand on top of my head felt…..not that degrading. Almost nice. I could tolerate it. She pulled the sippy cup from my lips mid-swig. Milk dribbled down my lips and chin, dripping onto my shirt. She wiped my face with a napkin then dabbed at my shirt. "I need to get a bib for my Gavi-poo. Just look at that shirt." She giggled, immensely pleased. "Hey! Not my fault. You pulled it out of my mouth." I glared at her. She just smiled back and jabbed another piece of hotdog, blithely ignoring my complaints as if I was just a fussy toddler. "I can't let you chug your milky like that. You'll get a tummy ache. You need to eat your hotdoggy all gone like a good boy!" She cooed some more I turned my head aside at her attempt to feed me. "I can do it myself." I insisted. A slight breeze picked up, tickling my bare legs. The sensitive skin of my exposed inner thighs prickled in goosebumps; I wished for anything to cover my diaper. Even shortalls with poppers in the crotch and a smiling kangaroo on the bib. "Okey dokey." Skye smiled with a raised eyebrow, as if she already knew how this was going to end. "But if it doesn't work, then you'll be a good boy and let Mommy feed you." I blinked. "What?" Surely I had misheard her? The word "mommy" made me feel small and helpless inside. Part of me liked it. The word sprang to my tongue, tempting me to say it. To call Skye "mommy". Mommy Skye. I frowned, shifting awkwardly on the hard metal seat. My diaper crinkled noisily. My diaper. No longer "the" diaper. I had already wet it, my urine laying claim to the padding swaddling me. My diaper and Skye was my loving mommy. The warmth in my tummy-stomach- grew. A bigger part of me shuddered in horror at these thoughts. Skye smiled so sweet, her eyes glued to me expectantly. "I said, you'll be a good boy and let me feed you. It's okay, baby. I'm sure you can do it all by yourself." She pressed her soft lips to my cheek as she placed the fork in my hand, like a mommy encouraging her toddler to feed himself. I blushed, dropping my eyes to my plate. Of course I could do it. I was a big boy. The fork was too wide and chunky to hold like a normal fork. I was forced to hold it in my fist like a clumsy toddler. I peeked up at Skye; she continued to watch me, smiling as she ate her own hotdog. Whole, on a bun, loaded with ketchup, mustard, and relish. An adult hotdog. I wanted one like that too. I pouted and jabbed at a round slice on my plate. The little piece jumped forward, pushed by the plastic fork tines. "That's the cutest thing I've ever seen." She giggled. My face flamed; I jabbed the hot dog harder. Success. Automatically, I looked up at Skye, beaming with pride. She was still smiling. What was I doing? I looked down in disgust in time to see the hot dog slip off the fork. I puffed my cheeks out, suppressing a stream of profanities. Normally Skye wouldn't care, but I had an odd feeling she'd reprimand me for swearing today. Probably because of all the babies and kids around. I threw the fat blue fork down and grabbed (perhaps pinched?) the hotdog. It was halfway to my lips when it slipped and fell to the ground. My pout deepened. Maybe, in my frustration, I squeezed too hard? Skye breezily laughed as if she was delighted. "What a determined baby!" She gushed as she dug through the gift bag, pulling out a folded up, small plastic rectangle. She had already finished her hotdog and mango smoothie made with a heavy helping of Mother's Milk. She kissed both my cheeks affectionately, soothing away the frustration and distracting me. When she sat back, I realized something was around my neck. I looked down to see a happy cartoon lion smiling up at me from a plastic white rectangle. I was wearing a bib. My eyes widened as I stared down at my chest. I blushed again, curling in on myself and sneaking a self conscious glance around. Nobody- no mommy, no kids- batted an eyelash at the sight of a grown, diapered man in a bib. It was the same lack of reactions I'd experienced when first diapered. It was as if the world saw me as just another toddler in a bib and diaper. Pre-school boys fed themselves, gloomy in their happy cartoon animal print diapers. At least they could feed themselves and did not need bibs. Jealousy ate at me, so I looked away with a soft snort. Jealous of a preschooler. What the hell was wrong with me? "It's okay, Gavi-poo. You did your best." Skye cooed, kissing the tip of my nose. I smiled back reflexively. She fed me a bite of hotdog; she had no trouble with the fork. That's how the rest of our lunch went. Skye was deliriously happy, in her element. She cooed at me, plastering my face with sloppy kisses and making silly faces as she fed me. Defeated, I cooperated, barely tasting the food; I was absorbed by the loving attention she showered on me. Over her shoulder, I saw the bushes near our small table rustle. A female peacock darted out. The peahen's plumage was mostly brown, the infamous vibrant peacock colors only a faint ring around her neck. She pecked at the hotdog on the ground, snapping it up in her beak then dashing back to the bush. Diapered toddlers just stared, like I did. They did not squeal or clap like I would have expected of youngsters. Mommies cooed excitedly to their babies, pointing the large birdie out. A peachick poked his head out of the bush. His downy feathers were brown and white with faint speckles of vibrant blue and green; a promise of future splendor. He pecked at the hotdog his mommy held in her beak, as if he were a fully grown bird trying to steal it. The peahen pecked him sharply on the head; then very reluctantly, he opened his beak and hungrily chirped like a baby bird should. The peahen ruffled her feathers in approval and dropped the hotdog into her baby's beak. Was that normal bird behavior? Before I could ponder the strangeness anymore, Skye wiped my hands and face with something cold and wet. A baby wipe, just like she'd used to clean me with down there. In my diaper area. I shuddered at the thought, partly repulsed but another part of me knew it was true. Warmth bubbled in my stomach as I acknowledged it. Not my crotch- my diaper area. Skye took my bib off, stuffing it back into the bag. "Come on, Gavi-kins. There's still so much more to do." She gently but firmly took my hand, guiding me to my feet. She smiled at me, her heart in her eyes, all soft and warm. She was truly happy to be here with me in this moment. My insides warmed in response. For a moment, I forgot all about my diapers and being babied. All that mattered was being with her, our hands clasped and hearts beating as one. I crinkled along at her side, feeling content and at peace within myself.

If you're in the mood for a new story, please consider joining my patreon. Part one of a brand new story, "the Chikan", is posted for your reading pleasure. New stories and updates on old ones such as Bad Seed, Pumpkin Patch, and Naughty Christmas will all appear on my patreon several weeks before they'll be posted anywhere else. https://www.patreon.com/Cute_Kitten Summer passed. Ryo continued to slowly, gradually improve. His stump healed. He had therapy, learning to walk with a prosthesis. He stayed in diapers full time, making no effort to get to the toilet. Ro eventually convinced him she wasn’t abalone diving. She just picked up more diving classes since it was the busy tourist season. He was reluctant in his trust, as if he didn’t fully believe her. She reiterated what the doctors and his therapist said; he was just emotionally scarred from his own attack. Tourists flocked to their small coastal town. They went diving, surfing, swimming. No shark attacks all scorching summer long. There were a few sightings. Great white breeding season passed. Abalone season was drawing to a close. The late summer sun beat strongly on. Ro swam through the open water, hugging the craggy reef line. The churning tide pushed and pulled her as she hunted the elusive abalone. The shells blended perfectly with the algae covered rocks. Long, flowing seaweed and kelp helped hide the hand-sized sea snails. Ro felt her way along slowly, her seasoned eye on the lookout for any bumps or movement that might give the snail away. The abalone liked cold, deep water and strong currents. Their muscled feet clutched tightly to the rock. Removing them was delicate, tricky work. The abalone were very touch sensitive; she had one shot to remove them before they clamped down tightly to the rocks in a defensive anchor. She could still remove them after that, but the odds of damaging the valuable delicacy increased. A single abalone could sell for a hundred bucks. To pry them loose, she used a tool that resembled a paint scraper. She slid the flat blade under the snail, pried it loose, scooped it up and put it in her bag. Intact, whole, and sure to fetch top dollar. Before she did any of that, her first action was to measure the shell to make sure it was legal size. To keep wild abalone farming sustainable, there were strictly enforced limits, licenses, and permits. Ro took care of her end, but most of that fell on Sheila’s head. Ro moved along through the kelp field, searching for another abalone cluster. She was on her last bag of the day. It had been a good dive. One abalone bag could net a few thousand dollars. A boat needed at least three bags full to break even with operating costs. She’d send up over half a dozen. They were sitting pretty today. All the bags were of green lipped abalone, which fetched the highest market prices, particularly in Asia. This last bag was almost full. She just needed a few more abalone and she could call it a day. She’d been under for several hours filling up bag after bag of abalone. This spot was empty; time to move on. She looked up, searching all around. She was far under the ocean, smack dab in the middle of the great whites’ hunting ground. Up on the surface above, the sun beat down in a merciless, hazy heat. Sheila wore a sunhat, sunglasses, and an old t-shirt dress. Down here, Ro had on a wetsuit due to how cold it was. Summer temperatures above, winter below. The sun’s heat couldn’t penetrate this deep. The light still reached, making everything around her a murky, blurry blue. Her vision was limited through her mask. She’d never see a shark coming until it was too late. She couldn’t hear under the water. She was a helpless sitting duck. A large, seal shaped happy meal. Down here, the sharks had all the advantages. Sight, sound, smell, stealth, strength. Teeth. Her only defenses were the shark shield-a small, rectangular black box with a red button that emitted an electromagnetic field to deter sharks- and the shark prod- a new invention that was basically an underwater cattleprod modified for sharks. Looking around, she saw no sign of a shark, so she was safe to move on. She kicked hard, swimming parallel to the current until she found a promising spot. Pushing aside the dark green undersea foliage, she hit pay shell. With one last safety check, she began to collect the last few abalone she needed to fill her bag. Some abalone divers used a motorized shark cages as an added layer of protection. The small cages slowed down the hunt. Moving along in the cage was slow. They were bulky and cumbersome. Ro preferred the protection of time. She could swim and gather abalone much faster without it. Which meant less time in the water. Less time for a shark to find her. She put an abalone into her bag when a large, blurry movement in the murky distance caught her eye. Instantly, all her senses went on alert. She gripped the shark prod tightly and slipped her abalone scraper into her bag. Her heart beat sped up as adrenaline kicked in, but she kept her breathing even. Forced herself to stay calm. Panic killed divers. She kept her eyes on that blurry shape. From this distance, it could’ve been anything; a dolphin, a small whale, a tightly packed school of fish. Or a shark. Whatever it was, she wasn’t sticking around to find out. An image of Ryo’s mangled, severed leg popped into her head. White bone sticking out of red meat. That could be her. Ryo’s voice, his tear-filled, shaky pleas, filled her mind. The shadow circled closer with each arc. She squeezed the prod’s long handle and began to swim for the surface. Adrenaline gave renewed vigor and strength to her tired limbs. She kept her fear tightly in check. She swam in slow, wide circles and always kept the tip of the shark prod between her body and the lazily approaching shadow. Keeping pace with the potential predator. Other sharks could be approaching. She made sure to never leave her back exposed to the same side for too long. That gave her hunters an opportunity to strike her blind. Just because she didn’t see a shark didn’t mean it wasn’t there. Her instincts screamed for her to swim break-neck for the surface and the safety of the boat in a blind panic. Too rapid of an ascent put her in just as much danger as the shark circling her. Even at a depth of thirty some feet, she risked getting the bends, or decompression sickness if she ascended too fast. A blind swim would also trigger the shark’s hunting instincts, enticing it to chase her. It also made her few defenses useless. Gradually, she worked her way to the surface. The seconds stretched into tense minutes that felt like hours. She glanced up every so often, careful to keep herself oriented to the boat. She could clearly see the outline of the shark now as it circled closer, growing more bold. Memories of Ryo’s sobbing filled her ears. Please, Ro. Stay out of the water. We'll be alright. It's not worth your life. Say you mean it, Ro. Not just an empty promise. I love you. I love you, too. If anything happened to you, I don't know what I'd do. How would Ryo react to Sheila telling him his wife was dead? He’d have to plan her funeral. Who would take care of him with her gone?

ooh, Goosebumps! I loved those books as a kid.

If you've already read these old repost stories and are in the mood for something new, I have part one of a brand new story posted on my patreon. Come join American girl Amber as she adjusts to her new life in Japan and deals with her new diapered status. She has a run-in on a crowded train with a stranger who is all too interested in her padded underpants. Find out how she handles this prickly padded situation in "The Chikan". https://www.patreon.com/Cute_Kitten  Wayne blinked like a deer caught in headlights, sure he had misheard her. "Beg pardon?" Satomi answered with an impatient gesture of her hand, her heels clicking as she strutted for the door. He scrambled after her, bumping into people as he struggled with his leather coat. In his haste, he almost tripped over his own feet several times. The winter air tore into his lungs like an icy punch. "Gah, it's cold!" He fumbled with his coat zipper and gloves, then looked around. "Hey?! S-Satomi?! Where'd you go?" He was struck with uncertainty, thinking this magnificent creature had played a cruel joke on him. She appeared to have vanished before his eyes, melting into the dark night and gently falling snow. Through the big, thick flakes and passing people, the small glow of a lit cigarette caught his eye halfway down the sidewalk. Satomi. Her almond eyes seemed to glow as she took a deep drag and stared at him as he approached. His heart skipped a beat and he stumbled, hurrying to catch up to her. She exhaled, turned and started walking. He came up behind her huffing and puffing. The sweet-cinnamon smell of cloves clung to the cold hair about her. The smell was not as bad as menthol cigarettes but Wayne found smoking a huge turn off and he could not keep the disgust or disappointment off his round face. "Cloves? Aren't those banned?" Satomi cast him a sideways look, amusement dancing in her eyes. "In America, yes, they are. Want one?" She extended a slim silver case from her pocket to him. "Errr...no thanks. I don't smoke." She pocketed the slim, small black cigarettes and let silence fall between them as he followed her. "So..um...how do you get them then?" "America isn't the whole world, despite what you Americans think. But these? I pulled them out of a magic hat." She laughed once more and he flushed in embarrassment at her teasing. "Smoking's not healthy- have you ever thought of quitting?" He was disgusted enough with the habit that it pushed his embarrassment aside enough for him to voice it. "Nope. Ever thought of dieting?" She shot right back in a slightly acidic tone. He winced at that. "Point taken. Sorry. And yes, actually. I have. Lost 30 pounds so far. She snorted delicately and put her nearly smoked cigarette out. "You've still got a ways to go." She paused to scrutinize him, running her penetrating gaze up and down his body, assessing him. He came up very wanting in her appraisal. Wayne stopped short and stared right back at her. She kept walking. Sure, he had put his foot in his mouth several times this evening, but he had not meant to and he had apologized immediately after. Satomi was being deliberately cruel. He waited a few heartbeats as she walked on. "H-Hey! Aren't you going to apologize?" Now she stopped, and her beautiful face looked bored. "No. You're free to leave if you want." He was not going to just slink away. He hurried after her. "That's rude." "Yes, it is." She shrugged and smirked at him. His gut twisted. He was certain she was toying with him, like a cat clawing at a mouse. Did she mean to be rude, or was she just trying to provoke him? He could not figure her out so he was still willing to play her games. "And yet, you're still here." It was his turn to shrug and play mysterious, but he was quite sure she could read him like a book and judged him for a fat, desperate fool. The smile she sent him was secretive and pleased as if she knew or accurately guessed why he still followed. 'Yeah, that's what I thought.' Her roguish eyes mocked him. His bladder gave a dull twinge. He'd have to visit a rest room soon; the liquids he had consumed were starting to catch up with him. He had only indulged in one alcoholic beverage as he had to drive, but he had several glasses of water over the course of the evening. He decided he'd just go when they got to the coffee shop. Part of him wished he had worn a diaper while the other part of him was mortified of the idea of wearing out in public, especially around pretty ladies. "Would you look at that? Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time before they appeared on store shelves." Satomi was several steps ahead of him, in front of a medical supply store where Wayne bought his diapers. He blushed as he caught up to her and found her staring at a packages of adult diapers stacked up in the display window. He had never seen these brands in person before, but they had gotten rave reviews on both diaper fetish sites and medical incontinence forums. They were the first biodegradable, eco-friendly, go-green disposable diapers. Online they sold like hot cakes and came in a variety of sizes. The company had started off as a baby diaper company, then expanded into adult incontinence products, then eventually started producing baby-print adult diapers due to numerous customer requests. The only drawbacks to them were the bulk and the noise. "I-I can't believe they have these here!" Wayne blurted out. Then went beet red in embarrassment and wished the earth would just open up and swallow him up. He coughed, spluttering, and cleared his throat noisily. "Ah-m-my -friend buys those for his kid. Well, in baby sizes." Satomi shot him a quick look as if she didn't believe him. "My nephew wears those. Great absorbency and containment, especially for extended wear. I'll have to remember I can get them here and not just online." The mental image of Satomi in a low-cut, tight white nurse's dress with white stilettos and her slim elegant hands reaching for the tapes on his diaper popped into his head and he felt his pants tighten. He coughed loudly some more, grateful for a long coat. "So-er- how old is your nephew?" "18." "Oh." If Satomi kept her nephew in such thick diapers, especially for extended time, Wayne concluded the boy must wear them not just for night. Absorbency and containment- maybe the boy needed his diapers for more than just wetting? Wayne suppressed a shudder. He was not a fan of messing his diaper. He had never had the guts to try it. He'd put oatmeal down the back of his diaper and enjoyed that sensation, but messing was out of his league. The pretty, effeminate boy in the locket had not looked mentally disabled; the boy must have a physical disability. Wayne fiddled with his thumbs, feeling guilty about that flash-fantasy of Satomi changing him. He felt guilty for getting off on diapers when there were people out there who needed them. "My baby isn't slow. He's just....a little damaged emotionally and physically." For once, Satomi seemed at a loss for words, her perfect features scrunched up. She stared up at the diaper display while Wayne stared at her. "He's been that way since his eyes first opened in the ICU." The intensive care unit of the hospital. "I'm sorry." Wayne was shocked at this and did not know what else to say. He wanted to comfort her but did not know how. He sensed any offer or gesture of comfort would be sharply rebuffed and her claws would come out once again. Satomi shook her head, brushing his condolences off, and her voice grew soft. "It happened just after New Year's. His mother was murdered. Tortured to death by her fuck of the week. A security guard found them dumped in an old Christmas tree lot, bodies wrapped in tarp and Christmas lights. My nephew was barely alive." Satomi's' gaze was vacant, like that of a glassy-eyed doll. She stared up at the diapers and snowflakes. She held up one of her leather-clad hands, palm up. Snowflakes danced in circles in her palm, going against the wind in an unnatural rhythm. Wayne stared at her flakes. A cold lump knotted and sank in his stomach. He felt lightheaded and sick at the mention of a mother, child, and Christmas lights. His almost full bladder almost let loose at the sudden shock of it. His bladder muscles squeezed tight, just barely preventing a leak. He felt like he'd been doused in cold water and his limbs were going numb. A murdered mother and child wrapped in Christmas lights. It couldn't be. Fate could not be so cruel. "W-what's y-your last name?" He stuttered out through shock-numbed lips. His voice quivered in trepidation. Satomi blinked and turned to him, thin brows furrowed at his stricken expression. "Hm? You mean my family name? Fujiwara." The cold stone in his stomach sank to the very bottom of his being and dragged his heart down with it. Sweat broke out on his forehead. "Mine's Watts. " A cold, dark light began to glow in her eyes. "You have a brother named Jack?" Wayne nodded miserably. "You have...had a sister named Kana." It was a statement, not a question. Satomi did not answer. She stared at him, her face cold and her eyes blazing. The wind whipped fiercely, stinging the exposed skin on his face and stealing the air from his lungs. Frost suddenly formed and crackled along the window, obscuring the diaper display from view. Fear spiked through Wayne and he knew with a sixth sense certainty that he was going to die. Satomi was going to kill him with those horrid, beautiful eyes of hers. They held him spellbound in terror, unable to look away.

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It very much was intended as a compliment! LR is like the Stephen King of ABDL horror. ?

Ooh, nice little twist there. Was Long Rifle's works any inspiration? This definitely has some LR vibes to it.

I definitely have to get my butt moving on posting more I'm glad you're enjoying re-reading this. I'm planning on posting more by the end of the week.

Diaper. Not all public restrooms are atrocious- it depends where you go. There's a wide variety of public venues, and a wide variety in levels of cleanliness. That said, it's public. You never know what germs are floating around/ how hygienic or unhygienic other patrons are. It's why I switched to wearing thicker diapers like Rearz Inspire Incontrol and Dry 24/7 out in public- they can hold more, so I can go longer between changes/ won't need to even change my diaper out in public.

BAHAHAAH!!! I LOVE that pic! ROFLMAO! Especially the cats-eye glasses!!! "Nocooterz" SOO needs to become a thing, just as "zeropenises" does. It makes the tags more fun!!! I like "dockingdongz"- it would also be a good title for a story of two dudes getting frisky on a boat!?

Alas, my vagina has no eyes, so it could not read. But my non-sex-organ eyeballs did read and process the words on the page. I like the zeropenises term, it's a little different and fun twist. I think it's a clear indication that the characters featured are female. And zerovaginas is just as valid, but I'm personally more partial to nocooterz myself. Ooh, now I wanna write a gay story and tag it peckingpeckerz ? Just for fun (not picking on anyone) lets dig down the worm hole a little further and explore the concept. Again, to be clear, just for fun and a thought-exercise- even if an author said they didn't want someone from group X (men/females/ardvarks/tri-spirited quasi-gendered kumquat-kins/whatever) reading their story, they have no way to enforce it. Anyone can physically read any story they want on here (well, assuming they have internet connection xD). It's not like reader with a penis sits down to read the story, then BAAAMMM! giant fist pops out of the computer to punch the penis-haver in zir face and scream 'ZERO PENISES ALLOWED 2 READ!"

ABU has cute ones. I'm fond of their Lavender, Kiddo, and Peekabu

This was a very cute story, well done on the characterization. I loved the diapered boy in a dress.

Baby food with a laxative?

One thing with the views; not everyone who reads the stories has an account, so that's part of what contributes to views but no comments. Some people just lurk and read. That said, getting comments on a story is always nice, and I think it's great you're seeking out feedback.

That's great to feel that way. Knowing who you are and being comfortable in your skin is priceless. Writing is a great way to explore different things/thoughts/feelings/ perspectives. I like to get into different headspaces when I write, and I definitely love to play with perceptions/ ways of thinking.