PeculiarChangeling

Part Two - Okay, She Definitely Noticed Ding-ding! Cynthia’s phone beeped cheerfully, indicating a text. She was just doing some light homework, nothing that took too much attention, so she checked it. The text came from a contact saved as, ‘Diaper Boy’, and she grinned, her homework utterly forgotten as she read it. ‘So…you told me to tell you next time I’m wearing a diaper.’ Cynthia stood, shouldering her purse as she texted back. ‘I want to see - can you meet me at Solid Grounds?’ ‘That’s the campus coffee shop, right?’ ‘Yup!’ ‘I can be there in like fifteen minutes.’ ‘See you there!’ Giggling, Cynthia slipped on her shoes and left her dorm. She’d been chatting on and off with Mark ever since she caught him wearing a diaper out on campus. He’d explained a little to head off her questions–apparently there was a whole world out there of diaper kinksters and people who just liked the feeling. Mostly, Cynthia just thought it was cute how much he blushed. The coffee shop was just a short walk from her dorm, and the weather was gorgeous, so she enjoyed the stroll. She beat Mark there by just a minute, spotting him walking up to the shop just as she was getting in line. “Hey,” he said, glancing around as he walked up to join here. Cynthia’s eyes drifted down to his waistband. He’d hidden his diaper a little more this time, and she probably wouldn’t have even noticed if she wasn’t looking for the puffiness beneath his jeans. “Hey, diaper boy.” He turned pink, but she’d said it quietly, and nobody else heard. “H-hey!” “You already said that.” She smirked. “Are you getting something?” “I don’t drink coffee,” he said, uncertainly. “Do they have hot cocoa?” Cynthia giggled. “You’re adorable.” He blushed again, but it had a different character to it than the nervous embarrassment she’d witnessed a moment before. Reaching out, Cynthia grabbed his hand and pulled him forward, standing in line next to each other. Mark was momentarily caught off guard by the hand holding, and he tensed for a long breath before relaxing. “Did you read the thing I sent you?” “Yeah,” she replied, “But I’m not really interested in why someone on the internet likes diapers. I wanted to know why you like it.” He squeaked again, looking around. The person ahead of them in line had headphones on, and nobody else would be close enough to hear. “I guess it’s just…Like, freedom, but also embarrassment?” he said. “Like…” “Like getting caught making a poopy diaper on campus?” she asked, smirking. “Gosh, that would be humiliating, wouldn’t it?” “Uhhhh–” Mark mumbled, forgetting how to talk for a moment. They reached the front of the line, and Cynthia leaned in. “Latte for me, hot cocoa for him.” “Whipped cream on the cocoa?” “Absolutely,” Cynthia said, taking out her card to pay. Mark was still lost in the clouds, so she pulled him by the hand, leading him to the shop’s outdoor seating. “Hey,” she said, snapping her fingers a couple times. “Earth to diaper boy, use your words, okay?” “I…yeah…” he said. “Thanks for the cocoa.” “Call it my ticket, to the show,” Cynthia replied. He tilted his head, glancing around. “The show?” She laughed. “You’re going to do it again, right?” “Do–” he turned pink. “No! Last time–” “Last time you got me interested.” Cynthia fluttered her eyebrows, toying with him a bit. “You wouldn’t deny me the show, would you?” He turned pink. “I mean…” “Just use your diaper,” she pushed. “We’re outside, there’s a breeze, nobody will notice. You want to, don’t you?” He nodded, hesitantly. “So do it!” Mark swallowed, glancing around one last time, then shut his eyes and leaned forward. His expression screwed up as he focused, concentrating on doing what she’d asked, on filling up his diaper. The breeze kept it mild, but sitting only a couple feet away, Cynthia still got a solid whiff of his accident. Pinching her nose for show, she giggled. “Gross!” “You said–” he started. “It was cute, diaper boy,” she cut in. “You stink, but in a fun way.” He turned even pinker than before, if that was possible. Looking down, he asked, “So…um. My roommate is out for a while.” “And?” she asked, though she had an idea where it was going. “And…last time, you’d said you might, um…” “I might change your stinky diaper?” she asked. “I dunno, it smells pretty bad from all the way over here.” “Er, okay,” he said, shifting back. She noticed him squirm, and the little flicker of pleasure as he sank into his mushy diaper. “I’m teasing,” she said, glancing in at the coffee shop. “Sure, I can do that. I’ll just bring a clothes pin. Our order’s ready–how about I go grab it, then you can show me how to change your diaper butt, ok?” He nodded, meekly. “O-okay.” She got to her feet. “Wait right here, diaper boy. I’ll be right back.” If you like my writing, want to help support me, or just had an extra five dollars a month and wanted some smut in exchange, you can find me over on Patreon and SubscribeStar! https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

The developers built in user controls for level of potty training and realistic bathroom use. That's not a coincidence.

TotalVerse accounts are one-per-person, and it's bio linked. When Daemon said you only get one shot, she wasn't exaggerating.

Cute, Fun, Short, hiding a surprise diaper? Both? Both? Both is good.

It's more of a spiritual sequel than a direct continuation, but you'll see. Thank you!

Newer than real. Faster than real. Better than real. The TotalVerse is reality. Augmented. Advanced. Improved. Order your TotalSet today. … The prospects of the technology were, on their own, tantalizing. Lab-D technologies had outdone themselves, to the point where it seemed too good to be true. A non-invasive neural interface that delivered optical, stereoscopic, tactile, and olfactory feedback with precision that matched reality to a nearly analogue level. Already, demand far outstripped supply. If getting a PS8 had been difficult, getting a TotalSet to enter the TotalVerse was downright impossible. Scalpers made a mint. Influencers had to call in favors to get their hands on a set. Just owning one was a flex, to the point where people bought knockoff decals that looked like a headset. Visually, it was hard to tell the two metal chips the size of a pinkie nail from a fake, especially tucked behind the user’s ears, which made the fakes all the more appealing. Martin got his through a miracle. Refresh after refresh after refresh, watching all the store pages, none of it worked. Then he got the phonecall. “Hey, Marty–you know anyone who wants one of these headsets? My uncle got one and he says it makes him dizzy, he’s just trying to get back what he spent–okay, you can stop screaming.” It took a five hour drive upstate to get it, but within a day he was home, and in possession of his very own TotalVerse. Sitting on his couch, he buzzed with excitement as he wired it up. Two metal dots behind his ears, and a tiny pinprick of pain as the interface booted up. Then, his room came alive. A woman appeared in front of him, dressed in a purple tank top and matching purple skirt. Her hair, her eyes, and her jewelry were all the Lab-D Purple. His virtual assistant, then. “Hi! I’m Tallie. I’m here to help you set up your TotalSet!” she said. She looked real, as though Martin could reach out and touch her. In a childish impulse, he did so, and to his shock he felt real skin under his hands. His eyes widened. Tallie smiled. “I see you’re touching me. Your default setting is tactile feedback when not in a hazardous environment–would you like to disable that?” The options were already tantalizing. Sweating a little, glancing around uncertainly, Martin asked the awkward question. “Uh… Tallie. Could we have sex? If I wanted to. I mean–” “Certainly!” Tallie beamed, the smile highlighting the dimples on her cheeks. “There’s a suite of options for physical sensations. Would you like to customize my appearance first?” “I–no, not yet!” Martin said. “I just…jeez. Wow. Oh my god.” “I’ve finished calibrating your TotalVerse body settings,” Tallie said. “Your in-world body should match your own quite well, but you’re welcome to tweak the settings! More dramatic changes within the TotalVerse can be acquired from a licensed vendor.” There it was. The micro-transactions had made themselves clear; a TotalSet got him access to the servers, the unparalleled virtual reality world of limitless possibilities. If he wanted anything beyond that–rippling muscles, extreme physical enhancements, a dragon to ride around on–he’d need to get out his wallet. Martin didn’t much care. This was amazing. “Take me to the TotalVerse, please!” Tallie smiled. “Alright! Lie down in a comfortable position, please! I’ll be monitoring your body for safety, but it’s suggested you take breaks every hour.” He grinned, laid back on his couch, and shut his eyes. He opened them in another world entirely. The TotalVerse. Or, well, the TotalVerse lobby. He sat in what looked like an enormous convention hall, with prepopulated vendors selling basic cosmetics. Clothes, body enhancements, in-verse pets. He’d spawned with just a white T-shirt, black pants, and generic tennis shoes, but the stores offered him plenty of opportunities to customize. He’d do that later. For now, he wanted to go out into the world. “Tallie, I want to go somewhere,” he said. She appeared next to him, still beaming. “Your profile still needs a few details before we enter the TotalVerse–please review the following menus and confirm everything is correct!” A series of boxes appeared floating in front of Martin, confirming details. Even as lucky as he’d been, “Martin” had already been claimed as a username, but “MartinPalmer” was still open, so he just kept his full name. The slider options for his body were pretty useless, but he toyed with them to at least give himself the appearance of a slight summer tan and as athletic as the options would allow. He still looked like himself, just more ‘after a good summer’ himself instead of ‘done with a post-christmas binge’ himself. Still, he enviously eyed the greyed-out section on the slider. This was virtual reality, he wanted the body of an adonis. Of course, if he could do it, everyone could and it wouldn’t be special, but now it just meant that those with wealth or the time and discipline to exercise regularly would get the impressive looks, while he’d still be left out. There were minimal default clothes, just a few color options for the T-shirt and pants and an optional purple Lab-D Ballcap. He wanted fashion, but instead selected a blue T and white pants, skipped the tacky cap, and to his surprise when he hit ‘select’, they appeared in the air next to him and fell to the ground with a realistic flop. Glancing around, feeling awkward for stripping in such a large space–even a large, empty space–he stripped down to his virtual boxers and dressed in the new clothes. Everything felt real. If he hadn’t known he was wearing the TotalSet, he’d have no way of distinguishing this from reality. “Alright,” he said. “I’m set. Take me to the TotalVerse.” “Are you sure? Once you lock in your account, settings cannot be changed without spending Total Tokens for modifications.” “Sure,” Martin confirmed. “Just take me in.” “Where would you like to go?” Tallie asked. “Just…wherever. Is there a good place to get acquainted?” he asked. “Would you like to go to one of the TotalVerse Lounges?” Tallie asked. Martin shrugged. He just wanted to go anywhere. “Sure!” “Close your eyes, and I’ll take you there.” He did. She did. When Martin opened his eyes, he stood in a huge, elaborate cocktail lounge. Large steel balconies hung overhead, techno music thumped at a pleasant volume, and hundreds of other people milled about, dancing, chatting, or just taking in the sights. Many wore the same generic T-shirt/pants combination as Martin, but others had more elaborate wear–anything from high fashion to medieval armor. Several had inhuman features; tails, horns, or wings that let them fly from the ground floor to the balcony in a single sweep. Instantly, Martin felt a pang of jealousy. “How much are wings?” he asked aloud. Someone snickered next to him. Martin looked over to see a girl about his height, wearing a cocktail dress and a fabulous gold tiara. She had striking red eyes, and a body that drew Martin’s gaze for more than a moment. “If you want to talk to Tallie here, you have to say, ‘Hey Tallie!’–uh, no thank you. I’m done, Tallie.” “Thanks,” Martin said. “Hey Tallie!” Tallie appeared next to him, chipper as ever, standing between him and the girl. “How can I help you?” Martin leaned to the side. “Uh…” “She’s your Tallie, I can’t see her,” the girl explained, smirking. “Right. Hey Tallie, how much do wings cost?” Martin asked. Tallie raised her hand, and a menu appeared with a merchant page. “There are a variety of mod vendors who sell wings–prices range from fifty thousand to eighty thousand thousand Total Tokens. Would you like to shop for options?” Martin’s eyes widened as he did the math in his head, converting real money to tokens. That was way out of his price range. “No thanks.” Leaning aside again, he asked the girl, “How do I make her go away?” “You say, “I’m done, Tallie,” the girl explained. “I’m done, Tallie.” His virtual assistant blinked out of existence, leaving him facing the girl again. “Hi, I’m Martin.” “Daemon,” she replied. “You must be new here.” He chuckled. “What gave it away?” She looked him up and down. “No mods, no clothes, you don’t know how to call your Tallie–trust me, it stands out. Nothing to be embarrassed about, once you spend a few tokens you’ll be looking sharp.” Martin blushed. “Well, that’s the thing–” “Ah.” Daemon laughed. “Token poor, eh? Don’t worry, I know some people who can help with that.” “I’ve got a job,” Martin said. Daemon smirked. “Why don’t we talk somewhere more…private?” “Another room?” he asked. “Off the TotalVerse,” Daemon explained. “I’ll give you my Chaos handle, we can chat–you do have a Chaos account, right? The popular chat service?” “Oh, yeah. I mostly use it for gaming,” Martin said. “We should talk there.” Daemon looked around the club. “There’s eyes everywhere, and you don’t want to get in trouble and have your account locked–you only get one shot, y’know.” “Oh, sure.” Martin shrugged. “Okay.” They exchanged contact info, and she waved at him. “Talk to you soon, Martin. I can’t wait to see what you spend your tokens on.” Daemon disappeared in a blink, leaving Martin alone in the club. Glancing over, he walked to the bar, feeling a bit uncertain. “How much is a…how about a lemon drop?” “Just one token,” the bartender explained, leaning over the counter. With a start, Martin realized that she looked identical to Tallie, save for her outfit. “You want one?” Martin did the math in his head–one token was cheaper than a drink at a real bar. “Sure.” From nowhere, she passed him the shot glass, and Martin downed it in one swig. The alcohol hit him–a mild surprise. He’d known the sensory control was solid, but this was incredible–and he wanted to know what else he could experience. But to experience it, he needed tokens. “Eh, screw it,” he said. “Hey, Tallie. Take me back to real life.” “Alright!” Tallie said, blinking into unreality across from him. “Just close your eyes!” He obeyed, and felt his couch underneath him. The buzz of alcohol, though, hadn’t gone away. “Tallie, am I still tipsy?” Standing over him, his virtual assistant nodded. “Would you like to sober up?” “No, I just didn’t realize it crossed over,” Martin sat up. Reaching out for his phone, he pulled up the Chaos messenger, added Daemon’s user ID, and sent a message. ‘You mentioned tokens?’ Her message came back a second later. ‘I’ve got a lead on a way to generate tokens. Since the software’s still new, there’s a few exploits–from within your account controls, I can underflow the system to max out your tokens. It’ll only take a few minutes.’ Martin’s eyes widened. After the stroke of luck with getting a headset at all, he hadn’t expected to be rolling in virtual currency. ‘Won’t I get banned, though?’ ‘That’s the thing–the bug is untraceable. I did it on my own account, you saw what I was wearing, right?’ Daemon had a point. Martin considered for a moment. He didn’t want to get permanently locked out of his account due to hacking, but if she’d done it… And besides, what fun was virtual reality if he couldn’t do anything? ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘What do I need to do?’ ‘Just go into your user settings and pull a couple ID numbers for me,’ Daemon sent back. ‘I’ll send the list. That’ll let me tweak your account balance.’ ‘Okay, great.’ Martin said aloud, “Hey, Tallie. I need some numbers, can you read them to me?” He read Daemon’s list aloud, and when Tallie gave him the codes, he typed them in diligently. ‘Thanks’, Daemon said. Martin started to type out a response, but curiously, before he could hit send, Daemon’s name grayed out. “Weird…” He wasn’t sure what to do next. Maybe he already had the tokens. Maybe it’d all been a scam–but if it had, he wasn’t worried, he didn’t have an account balance to clear out. “Tallie, take me back to the club,” he said, laying back and closing his eyes. When he reappeared, he looked around for Daemon, but she was nowhere to be seen. He checked his account balance, but it still sat at a single digit number, his starting balance from opening an account. “You’ve got a message!” Tallie said. “From an anonymous user.” “Uh…” Martin frowned. “What is it?” “It says, ‘Fifty thousand credits, and we’ll give your account access back.’ And then there’s a TotalVerse Banking account number.” Tillie beamed while she spoke, totally at odds with what she’d just said. Martin looked around the club, shocked. He half expected to see Daemon smirking at him, but all he saw were the faces of other new users in their various attire, a few of whom were glancing at him curiously. “What?” “It says, ‘Fifty thousand credits, and we’ll give your account access–” “Yeah, no, I heard you.” Martin gaped. “Tillie, show me user settings.” “I’m afraid your user settings are password protected,” Tillie smiled. “Can you tell me the password?” “I…but…” Martin started to say. He had no followup. He’d fallen for a stupid scam within ten minutes of opening his account. And then he noticed the warmth in his pants. Looking down, his eyes widened, shocked as he saw a dark, wet stain spreading down from his crotch, turning the white fabric bright yellow. “Tillie, what the hell?” “I’m sorry, I don’t understand the question,” Tillie said. “Why did I just–” Martin looked around, horrified to see the smirks being cast his direction. In a quiet hiss, he finished, “Piss myself?” “It looks like your potty training settings have been adjusted to zero,” Tillie said. “You can reset that at any time from your user settings. Would you like to go there now?” “Yes!” Martin snapped. “I’m afraid your user settings are password protected,” Tillie smiled. “Can you tell me the password?” Martin blanched. His account had been bricked, unless he was willing to pay a ransom or continue pissing his pants in the TotalVerse. “I…” A passing guy snickered. “You got scammed, bro!” While Martin took that in, Tallie chimed in again. “It looks like your clothes are dirty. Would you like to have them cleaned, or change to a different outfit from your inventory?” “I don’t have any other clothes!” Martin snapped. “Yes you do! Your inventory has plenty of options,” Tillie said, raising her hand. A menu appeared, showing he had one other piece of clothing in his wardrobe inventory–a plain, white, puffy diaper.” Martin swallowed. “Take me back to the loading room, please.” They vanished from the bar, and reappeared in the starting area. He took a breath. “How much does it cost to clean my clothing?” “You may have your clothing automatically refreshed once per day,” Tallie said. “Additional cleanings cost credits, depending on the item.” “Can I buy other clothes?” he asked. “I’m afraid that option is password protected,” Tillie smiled. “Can you tell me the password?” “Dammit!” Martin snapped. “Ok. Ok, this is fine. Can I still, like, buy stuff?” “Your ability to purchase mods and clothing is password protected, but your other options are currently available,” Tillie said. “Is there something you’d like to buy?” “No, I just…” Sitting down, Martin took a deep breath. “Shit. So I can either ditch my headset completely, or deal with…ugh. Diapers.” He’d have to think about it. It was just annoying enough that he might put up with the embarrassment and nuisance, if it meant getting the other benefits of the TotalVerse. Besides, as fun as the Verse parts were, the most important aspect was the augmented reality. Those settings would be lifechanging, the kind he’d wanted the set for to begin with. If nothing else, getting to bang Tallie whenever he wanted would be well worth the sticker price. “Okay, Tallie, I’m ready to leave the TotalVerse,” he said. “Alright! Close your–” He already had his eyes closed, and he returned to reality. Once again, he was laying on his couch, the t-shirt went away and was replaced with his tank top, and his wet pants… He was still in wet pants. Opening his eyes, he looked down, shocked to see that his jeans were just as soaked as his pants in-verse had been. “Uh…” he said. “Uh…” All his user settings had been modified. Not just the in-verse settings. If he wanted the potty training back, he’d have to take off his headset completely. “Uh, Tallie…” he started to say. She blinked into appearance on his lap. “Would you like to have sex now?” His concerns faded. He could take off the headset later. And maybe he could just buy some diapers for regular-day use, too. ... Hey there, author note! I'd like to know what you think of the concept in this story. Aside from the plot itself, there's a lot I could do with the concept of a VR universe like this. I'd like to hear your comments! Also... I already wrote another story in this universe, it's in early access on Patreon & SubscribeStar. "Gamer Pants: the Stat Dump" will be out publicly next month, but you can read it early if you want to support my writing! https://www.patreon.com/posts/67843661 https://subscribestar.adult/posts/628275

Chapter 12: Amends Grace found herself floating in space when the timer buzzed. She’d lost all sense of time, all sense of herself in the corner. Her eyes shut, her body wrapped into a tight little ball on the stool, she’d successfully shut out every part of the world that could remind her just how deeply she’d fucked up. When the bzzt bzzt bzzt of the kitchen timer rattled in her ears, the world came rushing back in with it. Her knees hurt from sitting in such an awkward position, and her butt hurt from the hard stool. She’d gone mostly nose-blind to the odor wafting from her diaper, but Grace could still tell it was there, accompanied by a squelch as she started to sit up. “Hey,” Pearce said, behind her in a second, taking her arm. Grace almost jerked away, but her legs had fallen asleep beneath the knees, and she’d have fallen if he didn’t catch her. “You did it,” he praised. Grace thought he might be preparing more teasing, but his tone sounded authentic. “Let’s go get you clean, okay?” A scathing retort built in her throat. She let it die and nodded. “Okay.” She needed his support for the first dozen steps, till they got to the stairs. Even once she could walk on her own, though, she stayed with Pearce, letting him lead her up the stairs, holding onto her arm. He took her to the bathroom, where not only were the changing supplies all laid out, the tub had been filled with sudsy water as well. “I figured, since it’d be about bath time anyways…” he explained with a shrug. Grace nodded, getting on her knees before laying down onto the mat. When she’d pictured her first messy diaper in her head, she’d imagined herself taunting Pearce, challenging him to give up rather than get his hands dirty. She didn’t have the energy for verbal sparring, so she only laid back and let him go to work. He unbuttoned the straps of her shortalls and pulled them down, then did the same with the button snaps of her onesie, pulling it up over her head. That left her only in her diaper, which clung to her bottom in a lumpy, saggy mess. Taking a deep breath, Pearce untaped her diaper, unfolding it and exposing the muck within. Grace crossed her arms over her naked chest and braced herself for the cold touch, but when Pearce began to work with the wipes, she felt warmth instead. She sat up, slightly, confused. “I, uh, heated them up,” Pearce said, simply. “There was a DIY tutorial I found with a candle warmer–it doesn’t matter.” “Thanks,” Grace mumbled. She noticed his shallow breaths while he got her roughly clean, but neither of them said anything. Pearce just got her clean, doing a reasonably thorough job to make sure there was no mess left on her skin. “Into the tub?” he said, offering his hand for support. Grace accepted his offer and got to her feet, cautiously stepping into the warm-but-not-hot water. She sat in the tub, knees pulled up to her chest, trying not to openly pout. Pearce let her steep in the water for a moment, taking the time to move the old diaper into the bathroom’s pail, stash the wipes, and wash his hands in the sink. “How’s the water?” he asked, snagging a washcloth as he crossed the two steps back to the tubside. “I’m a fucking idiot,” Grace replied. He hesitated halfway through picking up the soap. “I’m not sure what that means for the water, though.” “The water’s fine,” Grace added, pulling herself into an even tighter ball. “I’m just such an idiot. I didn’t even notice Devon until–And Brains, I was shitty to him for no reason.” “He texted me to explain what happened.” Pearce sudsed up the washcloth, scrubbing her back gently. “He couldn’t just tell you?” Grace asked, weighing what that meant. Pearce pursed his lips. “No. He wasn’t talking much in general.” Grace shut her eyes and pulled herself even tighter, resting her forehead on her knees. “Fuck. I’m such an asshole.” “No you’re not.” Pearce set aside the washcloth for a moment. “I mean, you can behave like a real jerk sometimes, but that’s not what you are.” “Hmm,” Grace mumbled. “Hey.” Pearce rested a hand on her shoulder. “I need you to open up a bit, okay?” Grace rolled her eyes. “I’m not really interested in a heart-to-heart.” “No, I mean. So I can wash you, you’re bundled up tighter than a ball of yarn right now,” Pearce explained. “Oh.” Grace released her arms and let her body unfold, sinking back into the tub. He washed her down, in no particular hurry, ensuring Grace got properly clean. When he brought out the shampoo in particular, it felt alarmingly close to a scalp massage, and Grace couldn’t help but sink into it and smile. Cleaned, washed, and rinsed, Pearce let her soak a little longer before pulling the plug. “Now let’s get you in your PJs for the night, okay? It’s almost past your bedtime, and you still need to have dinner.” “Is the pizza still warm?” Grace asked. “I set the oven to super low and have it resting in there,” Pearce confirmed. “It’s still warm.” “Thanks,” she said, sitting up and reaching to drain the water. “I think I should be the one to do that, technically speaking,” Pearce chided, but he didn’t stop her. Grace rolled her eyes, pulled the drain, and got out of the tub. Her PJs were, at least, not too awful. Pearce had found a footed sleeper in her size, with pink-and-white stripes and a zipper in the back. After applying a liberal quantity of baby powder, he taped her up into a nighttime diaper, helped her step into the sleeper, and zipped it up in the back. The material was stretchy and snug enough that the outline of her thick diaper stood out obviously beneath the stripey fabric. Once zipped up, Pearce paused to fiddle with something at the top, and Grace heard a little pop sound. “What was that?” “An extra button that goes over the zipper,” Pearce preened. “It’s tamper-proofed, so little babies can’t take off their diapers at night.” “Wait, what?” Grace turned to glance at him, eyes widening. “That wasn’t–” “Relax,” Pearce rolled his eyes. “It’s not like, locked or anything. It’s just a pain in the ass to try and get yourself. I tried to make sure. Taking it off requires a lot of stretching and awkwardness, but putting it on without help is impossible.” “Right, okay,” Grace said. “You know I wouldn’t cheat, right?” “Then it won’t be a problem,” Pearce said, giving the back of her padded butt a pat. “Now let’s go get you your dinner, okay?” Grace smirked, leading him down the stairs. The bottom of the footed sleeper had a grippy rubbery material that kept her from slipping, and even with the waddle from her diaper, she had no trouble moving around. The intoxicating smell of DiMaggio’s pizza wafted from downstairs, and she could almost imagine herself floating in the air and hovering towards it on the smell trail alone like an old cartoon. She passed Devon, who had some blankets and a pillow set up on the couch for the night, though he was still wide awake and talking to Melody. He glanced at her, she shrugged and marched right past, ignoring her anxiety in favor of food and eventual sleep. Pearce got the pizza out and poured some cream soda into a baby bottle, passing the drink to her so she could suckle it while he cut the pizza into bite-size cubes. It didn’t have quite the same satisfaction as biting into a too-large slice of pizza and filling up her mouth with saucy goodness, but the individual bites were still pizza, and carried with them intense satisfaction. As she munched her way through two slices, Pearce asked, “Are you feeling better?” “I wasn’t sick,” Grace replied. “Just–mmph.” Another bite of pizza cut off her next words, and she had to chew, giving Pearce a moment to reply. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He ruffled her hair, then set the fork aside. “Well, let’s see. You’re fed, bathed, and clean. It’s actually a little past bedtime, but we’re calling that a wash because of timing problems, so…” “Wait,” Grace said, wiping her mouth with her arm. “There’s one other thing I need to do before bed.” Pearce pursed his lips, using a napkin to wipe her mouth more effectively. “It’s your bedtime, baby butt.” “Please?” she asked. “I’m not going to beg, but… please?” He considered. “What do you need to do?” … Grace leaned against the door to Brains’ bedroom, texting out her message. “I’m sorry about earlier. I behaved like a jerk and lashed out at you. I know you were helping me.” After only a second, the ‘message received’ icon changed so she knew he’d read it, but no ‘typing’ icon appeared. She waited. He needed time. After two minutes, he finally started typing. ‘I should have known you were upset and approached you differently. It’s my fault.’ Grace had prepared for his defensiveness. ‘No it’s not, dummy. I hurt you. It’s my fault.’ ‘I shouldn’t have reacted so badly either. It was just a few words.’ ‘If someone blasts a hole in your boat, it’s not your fault if you were over deep water.’ No response, but he saw her message. A couple more minutes passed. Finally, he sent back, ‘I accept your apology.’ She smiled. The reply might have seemed a bit cold and inauthentic from anyone else, but for Brains, she knew he meant it. ‘Goodnight, Brains. You’re a good friend. I owe you one.’ She pushed to her feet, waddling to her own bedroom, where Pearce waited by her crib. “Ready?” he asked. She nodded. “Ready. Let’s get this day over with.” He tucked her in. Despite having a little time left before lights out, it was only a minute after he was gone that she fell into a deep, cozy sleep. ... Hey, a bit of a different plug this time: I'm giving away a commission to one of my readers! I've got a poll to rank all of my short stories, (which doesn't actually include The Baby Bet, but who's counting?), and if you fill it out, you'll also be entered into a raffle to get a short story commission from me! Details are in the survey, which you can find here!

Chapter Thirteen (For Real) “So,” Quinn ribbed Sandra, smirking all the while they walked down the mountain, towards the way they’d come in. “Care to share with the group how you’re feeling?” Sandra groaned, shifting in the intricate shibari restraints wrapped around her. “I’m sure the curse of this artifact is random, I have no idea why it’s ropes. Just like all the other curses–unless you want to tell me that you secretly always wanted frilly pink armor and a puffy diaper.” “My frilly pink armor doesn’t make my voice flutter or my tail wag, and the diaper’s just here for a few hours,” Quinn grinned, shifting slightly from foot to foot. “You, on the other hand–I’m pretty sure your pitch jumped a whole octave once that thing kicked in.” Looking down at herself, Sandra inspected the ropes that bound her body. She could walk, barely–her thighs were bound together by intricate shibari knots, and even her newfound tail had ropes around it, pinning it to her back, but it had enough slack that the visible wag from side to side could still be noticed clearly, and she could bend her knees and still shuffle along at a moderate pace. More problematically, the ropes knotted between her breasts and over her chest kept her arms stuck to her side. The relic cuff dangled from her wrist, and she could feel magic woven into the ropes that’d prevent any supernatural attempt to remove them. The only way these ropes were coming off was if she shackled someone else to the curse. “Just…shut up,” Sandra grumbled, wishing the tight, snug feel of the coarse rope around her skin didn’t make her blush with every step. “It’s not that I’m–it’s magic. Obviously. You can tell it’s messing with me, right?” Hadrian and Tarja exchanged a glance, while Quinn just sniggered at her paltry defense. Sandra may not have been an out-and-out wizard, but she did have a fair knack for magic. Focusing on herself, she concentrated, saying aloud, “I’ll prove it with a spell–whatever magical compulsion’s affecting me, I can root it out.” “So you are horny for the ropes,” Quinn commented, noting her tacit admission. She ignored him, focusing on the Detect Charm spell. With just a little effort, she looked around for compulsions, and… Nothing. Not even the littlest bit of influence lay over her mind. “Um…” she said, her blush deepening as a bout of arousal washed over her. “It’s…” “Hah!” Quinn barked out a triumphant laugh. “No compulsion, right? You just like being a bunny.” At Hadrian’s raised eyebrow, Sandra sheepishly admitted, “A ‘Rope Bunny’ is someone who gets tied up for…yeah. How do you know that?” Quinn just shrugged. “Sisters. Lots of ‘em.” Rallying her remaining scraps of dignity, Sandra changed the subject. “We should be keeping an eye out for danger, not cracking jokes–it’s a long walk back to the house with the toy chest inside, and plenty of dangers lie between us and it.” “Remind me why we can’t just use the magic rock the priest gave you right here?” Tarja asked, walking almost as unsteadily as Sandra. Quinn held her hand, guiding her safely down the path since her legs were so unsteady–the curse from her onesie had only grown worse, and she could barely walk without aid now. “The gemstone’s a tether to our home plane, but it’s not all powerful,” Hadrian explained, breathing heavily as they hiked down the mountain. “The reason we traveled to the next town over and built a particular circle was so the metaphysical energy on our side would match the energy in that toy chest. If we try to open the way back home from here, most likely scenario: The gemstone just breaks because the energy on this hill is too scattered and the magic isn’t strong enough to punch through. Or, if we’re particularly unlucky, we’d get dropped back into our home plane somewhere way far from home. Like in a volcano.” “That all seems convoluted,” Tarja commented. “There wasn’t just a spell that you could use to jump from one plane to another directly?” “Oh, sure there is,” Hadrian said. “And if I had another couple decades of practice and experience, I might be skilled enough to try it. There’s maybe a thousand people in the world who can do magic that difficult.” Tarja frowned and held up a hand, stopping the party’s progress. “Wait…” The party obeyed, trusting her judgment. Sandra surveyed the foothill ahead of them–the lightly grown over mountain gave way to thicker trees to one side, towards the low ridge they’d come in, while a sheer drop to the left gave way to the deep valley below. “Hag,” Tarja whispered. “Up ahead. I think she cut off our path back.” Sandra pursed her lips, then felt a jolt of sensation run through her as the ropes tightened, woven silk threads brushing over her breasts and nipples. Under her breath, she whispered, “Fuck…” “We’ll get past this,” Hadrian assured her. Quinn just smirked, giving Sandra a knowing, ‘I’ll-tease-you-about-this-later’ look. “We’ll have to go around,” Sandra announced in a low tone, shifting to look at the dropoff down towards the valley. “With climbing gear, we can move along the cliff face until we get past the hag, then climb back up and get past it. This looks like very climbable terrain.” Tarja pursed her lips. “How do you plan on climbing? I could manage it for a little while, but–” “You’ll need to lower me on a rope,” Sandra said, turning her neck and gesturing towards her bag with her chin. “Fortunately, we should be able to tie to, um…to my harness pretty easily. It’ll distribute my weight well.” “You’re the expert,” Quinn beamed, walking over and opening her pack to take out the rope and climbing spikes. “Maybe I should take the relic, since you’re the climbing whiz,” Hadrian suggested. “Cuff it to me, and drag me around.” The suggestion had merit, but Sandra didn’t want to sacrifice a friend’s safety to improve her own. “It’s fine, I’ll hold it. We’ll be slower, but…” A shriek echoed through the forest, and her mind changed. “Okay, fine. Let’s just get out of here.” Hadrian stepped over to her, grabbed the other side of the artifact, and snapped it tightly around his wrist. It locked, and the other side fell free of Sandra–the ropes binding her lost their magic, but they didn’t simply vanish, meaning she’d still have to be untied. For his part, Hadrian dropped to his knees, gasping with sudden pleasure. Sandra could barely spare a glance his way, too busy conjuring an umbral knife in her clenched hand to begin cutting herself free, but she saw a spectral form…”assaulting” him. “Quinn, a little help?” she asked, slicing through one of the ropes on her arm. The half-orc barbarian, distracted by the show, jumped in and helped clear the arms from her body, quipping in Hadrian’s direction. “I knew you had a type, but wow!” Hadrian started on an annoyed retort, but the words choked in his throat as the ghostly half-corporeal being put its mouth around his…well, Sandra couldn’t see what it was doing, but its tongue passed through his latex bodysuit and diaper as though they weren’t there, and by his gasps, he could feel it beneath all the layers. A few feet tall, stacked, and thicker than a bowl of oatmeal, the ghostly apparition currently performing cunnilingus on their mage had a certain resemblance to a priest of Calistria they all knew. Free of the ropes, Sandra turned to face the cliffside, calculating the best place to jump down. She’d been hoping Hadrian would be bound by the same ropes she had–both because it’d give her a convenient excuse to dodge Quinn’s teasing, and because it would serve as a solid attachment point for the ropes, but now she was going to have to find a way to climb down with him, too. Struck by an insight, she gestured to their right, where the cliff face turned steeply up. “Quinn, get us tied off up there.” With a burst of simple magic, she conjured a basic object–just a loose stone berm that rope could be secured to. He hesitated, shifting his weight anxiously. “Shouldn’t we go lower, not higher?” “Just do it,” Sandra snapped. “No time.” Quinn’s objection was solid–they’d just be buying more distance to climb, more effort expended, more time–but she didn’t have time to explain her intuition. Pulling the rope from her bag, she did the math. There wasn’t enough to climb down all the way. There wasn’t even time to tie everyone up properly. They’d have to move down a little, use their climbing spikes to move the attachment point, and creep down the cliffside. It’d take all day, but it was safer than facing off against a hag who could defeat their whole party with a thought. “We’ll have to keep these simple,” she said aloud, channeling all her reserves of magic into the rope so that it began to move. “Safety harnesses. If you fall, you might get some bruising–nothing I can do about that, so sorry in advance.” “Just get it done,” Tarja said, raising her shaky arms, allowing the animated rope to snake around her body into a secure, if simple, harness. “I’m a strong climber when I’m…y’know. In control. Once it’s time to climb, I’ll steady myself. ” She’ll wet herself, Sandra translated in her head, remembering the effects of the cursed onesie. She was starting to have trouble tracking everyone’s various afflictions–Quinn was mostly well off, save for his armor and breasts and the temporary diaper, and the fact that for the duration of their time in this plane he seemed to be shrunk–but Tarja was dealing with a whole pack of curses, and Quinn had his unchangeable latex bodysuit, heels, diaper, his bits had been swapped around, and probably another thing she couldn’t remember at the moment. “Hadrian, can you concentrate well enough to cast a spell?” she asked, not looking up from her work. “Uh…uh-huh,” he mumbled. “Tell me you’ve got a feather fall ready,” she said. “I don’t want to burn through your magic if we don’t have to, but if this goes sideways, we’ll need you as a backup.” “Ye-” he gasped mid-affirmation, back arching in pleasure. “Ff-fuck! Yes, yes, yes–” Sandra assumed that his first ‘yes’ was for the important thing–that he had the spell ready–and dismissed the rest as magically induced pleasure. Another shriek echoed through the woods, much closer this time. The hag stalked them, moving in with every moment, watching for the best opening to strike. Not that it needed one–they’d lose in any battle, no matter how many advantages they built, but the hag couldn’t know if they were playing possum or not. Tossing the rope to Quinn so it could wind itself around him, she felt grateful he’d been shrunk. As small as he was, it wouldn’t take much rope to hold him, and he’d weigh a whole lot less while climbing down. “We’re running out of time,” Tarja said, tone calm, expression terrified as she gazed into the woods. “We’ll be fine,” Sandra assured her, commanding the rope to loop around herself, far faster than if she tied it the old fashioned way. Tarja nodded, but her eyes were pools of fear. “Do you know what happens to your soul if a dreamthief hag kills you?” “We’re secure!” Quinn called, looping the other end of the rope off around a tree stump. That just left Hadrian, and Sandra took the excuse not to answer Tarja’s question. She knew the answer, and it wasn’t pretty. “Arms up,” she told Hadrian, who was trying desperately to focus in spite of, not only the first spectral cunnilinguist, but a second shortstack now sitting over his shoulders, riding his own mouth. He moaned, blushed, and pulled his face away long enough to say, “I can–oh gods–I can fight…” “Sure, just stay with me,” Sandra said, ignoring how his back tensed and arched as she prepared him for the descent. Something still nagged at her. A small detail she’d forgotten in the frantic stream of consciousness over the past few minutes. “There she is,” Tarja said, glancing at Sandra. “No time. We’ve got to go.” Sandra nodded, while Quinn ran over the rope, so she could secure everyone. It was a truly terrible system, cobbled together without any of the safeties she’d like–ideally, she’d want a strand of rope for each climber–but in the time they had, it was the best she could do. Hadrian was their backup, ready to cast feather fall should the ropes fall through. “On my count, jump.” Sandra didn’t glance back at the shrieking beast barrelling down upon them, she just prepared herself. “Three–” “One!” Tarja interjected, running forward in terror. She had perfect balance–she’d wet herself to regain control, or perhaps she’d simply wet herself in terror. And, since they were tied together, if one went they all went. The rest of the party caught up and ran with her, jumping over the edge of the cliff. They dropped, fell, and the rope snapped taut. Sandra felt the rope dig into her skin with bruising force, but they’d made it out of easy striking range. “Okay, okay,” she panted. “As long as the hag doesn’t cut–” “Don’t say it,” Quinn interjected. “Remember what happens when you say it?” Sandra did, and she didn’t finish her ominous statement. The hag cut the rope anyway. Dropping, suddenly, the party began to fall down the length of the cliff. Sandra waited for Hadrian to use his magic, to levitate the party safely down to the ground, but no spell came. Spinning in the air as they flew downward, she saw her other party members. Tarja, more afraid of the monster that lied above than the impact that approached below. Quinn, his dress billowing like a parasol as he plummeted. And Hadrian, confused and horny and helpless… With his gods-damned pacifier in his mouth. “That’s what I forg–” Sandra started to exclaim, before she hit the ground and blacked out. … Dreams within dreams were a strange thing. It was already odd enough that, as an elf, she dreamt. It was even more odd to dream while her physical body resided in a dream plane. Her mind wandered past the normal realms of unconscious imagination, into further, deeper places. Sandra didn’t remember much after she awoke, but she did recall one detail from her somnambulation through a distant plane. She’d been noticed. … Sandra’s eyes snapped open and she tried to sit up. She couldn’t. Her initial reaction was fear–she’d been paralyzed by the fall. As she tried to move, though, she realized she’d gotten it wrong–she wasn’t unable to control her body, she was stuck. Looking up, she saw the layers of tree branches and vines she’d fallen through, and glancing to the side with her eyes, she saw a wide pool of thin, sticky slime. It had the consistency of a glue trap, adhering her to the forest floor. It, fortunately, didn’t seem that deep–they didn’t have to worry about sinking, just being stuck. “Sound off,” she said, trying–and failing–to peel herself up. “Everyone ok?” “Mmm-phuu,” Hadrian moaned through his pacifier. “Ugh…” Quinn groaned. “Ouch.” “Alright here,” Tarja said. Her voice came from up higher, and Sandra glanced with her eyes to see the ranger hanging from a group of vines that had caught her mid-fall. Wrinkling her nose, Sandra caught the whiff of a dirty diaper. With a shimmy of her butt and a wiggle of her dragon tail, she confirmed it wasn’t her. “We need to get out of here. Can anyone move?” “Mm-bughh,” Hadrian mewled. Sandra could hear the sloppy sex sounds coming from his direction, though thankfully he wasn’t in her eyeline so she didn’t have to watch. “What is this stuff?” Quinn asked. “I can barely move.” “I’m guessing someone in the real world has a, uh, thing for restrained movement,” Sandra said. “Here,” Tarja suggested. “If I hang down, I can probably give you a hand without being stuck mys–woah!” She yelped as one of the vines moved, suddenly, wrapping itself around her ankle. In a quick movement, she pulled out her knife and slashed the vine, falling free–and, with her natural grace returned, she managed to land on her feet. Sandra was briefly worried that Tarja would be as stuck as the rest of them, but since it was only Tarja’s shoes, she had a lot less surface area stuck, and a lot more room to move. With a bit of effort, she managed to pry one of her feet free and take a step towards Sandra. “Get everyone else up first,” Sandra said. “Hadrian’s probably going to need escorted free, but he might have a spell once he can take out that pacifier.” In response, Hadrian moaned with pleasure, in the midst of his dozenth orgasm in as many minutes. Nodding, Tarja moved to obey. Crouching, cautious so as not to get herself stuck, she crouched to help up Hadrian. He was in luck–the latex material of his clothing was relatively anti-stick. It still took a little prying, but he got free without the need for grease, and staggered out of the slime pit with Tarja’s help. She pulled out his pacifier, and he exhaled with relief. “F-fuck,” he grunted. “I’ve got one grease spell ready, but that’s about it for my magic…uhh…” “Just cast it,” Sandra said. “Get Quinn out.” Concentrating, it took him a couple tries to focus through the mid-coital bliss, but he managed to get off his little bit of magic Quinn’s way. With Quinn’s body and frilly pink armor fully lubricated, he managed to pry himself up from the slime and get to his feet. And then the vines dropped. Sandra could only watch–literally, there was nothing else she could do but lay there and observe the vines lower towards Quinn, moving to snatch him up. He found himself towed up from the ground, vines wrapping around his body and tying him in place in the sky. He roared, slipping out of the vines and fighting to get free, using his teeth more than anything in an attempt to fight off the vines. “Get–” he shouted, in between chomping on a vine. “Get Sandra! I’ll hold them off!” Tarja moved as fast as she could to Sandra’s side, and tried to help her up. No dice. Her clothes were firmly rooted to the slime, and the pores in the leather and fabric had soaked it up, adhering her firmly down. “You’re…” Tarja said. “I think we have to–” “Just do it,” Sandra said, sighing in annoyance. Retrieving her knife, Tarja started at the top and began working her way down. With all the slime pinning Sandra’s clothes down, there was only one way to get her free–her clothes would have to go. Parts of the armor could be removed just with straps, but her shirt and pants needed the knife. Tarja worked as quickly as she could, slicing through until Sandra could sit up and get free. And, unfortunately, that left Sandra nearly-naked save for her slightly sagging diaper. That could have come off, too, but it’d just return, and a little bit of clothing was better than total nudity. At least she could keep her magical boots and a few other sundry accessories, even if she was effectively nude from the waist up. More unfortunate was the need to cut her hair–she wasn’t particularly image conscious, especially not now that she’d grown used to the routine of regular outfit-centered humiliation, but she’d be visiting an alchemist to get that fixed when she could. Standing, she started formulating a plan to free Quinn–”Waah!” she exclaimed in alarm, as a vine grabbed her by the ankle and towed her up above the trees. The vines were better than rope. They moved, and over her naked body there was nothing between her and the tight, clinging plant that crept over her skin, trussing her up in an instant. She initially struggled, but she’d been caught unawares, and a little part of her wanted to give in. No! She snapped at herself. Not the time! But still–as the vines tied themselves around her exposed breasts and wound her up, and as they pulled her legs apart and bound her hands to her feet, the surge of humiliated pleasure that washed over her battled against her urge to free herself and fight. And then the vines found their way beneath her diaper, creeping in, and Sandra felt a little moan escape her lips and felt her tail wag excitedly– WHOOSH! The fireball that landed above her burned through the vines in an instant. All but one of the vines lost her, and only one, tied loosely around her ankle, still held sway–she fell, but was caught short before landing in the slime again, and the other vines went slack around her body. Hadrian stood at the edge of the slime pit, no longer cuffed, extending his hand. “Sorry it took a minute!” he called. “I had to be sure my aim was perfect. Can you swing over here?” “Thanks,” Sandra said, thinking furiously, You couldn’t have waited another thirty seconds? Shifting her weight back and forth, she swung on the one vine until she could grab his hand, then kicked her leg free and fell to the ground. Without her armor, she felt exposed in the dangerous forest, but as least she was out of immediate danger. Quinn landed next to her a second later, dusting himself off. “Where’s Tarja?” “She took the cuff,” Hadrian said, pointing to the large tree next to them. “Then sat down out of the line of fire.” Sandra stepped around, admittedly curious about what, exactly, Tarja would be experiencing. She was reserved, and didn’t really talk about her kinks, so… She lay against the tree, mouth open and face intensely relaxed, while spectral hands worked around her. From the motion, it looked like they were…patting her head. Two hands massaged her back, while another set of spectral arms wrapped around her body in a hug. Two illusory hands were squeezing her own, and the hands on her head moved between gentle pats and a scalp massage while other ghostly fingers caressed the rest of her body. She looked…cozy. “That’s my girl,” Quinn commented with a smile. Now that they were safe, Sandra finally took a moment to inspect their surroundings. Off just to the right of the swamp was a stony open area, with large, sharp looking rocks. Doing the math in her head, Sandra realized that if they’d gone with Quinn’s suggestion of climbing down from a lower point on the cliff, they’d have fallen onto lethal rocks instead of fall-breaking vines and goo. “Huh,” Hadrian said. “I know,” Sandra said. “It was just an instinct–” “No, I mean, I thought you were the one who needed a change,” Hadrian said. Glancing back, Sandra saw that he was looking at her diaper. “But you look pretty clean.” “It’s not you?” she asked, sniffing the air. There was a definite odor of a messy diaper. “Might be the swamp,” Quinn suggested, quickly. “A lot of earthy smells… Just a guess.” “It’s not important,” Hadrian said. “We need to find a new way out of here. We’re not getting back to that nursery from down at the base of this cliff, and that hag’s still up there even if we climbed up.” Sandra considered for a moment, crossing her arms over her chest. She turned, slowly, following an imagined compass in her head until she knew where to go. “It’s…this way.” “How do you know?” Quinn asked. “Just like I knew where to put the rope,” she said. “My instincts.” “Well, someone’s end stinks,” Quinn quipped. “But you’re both pretending it’s not you.” Sandra rolled her eyes and started marching. Paralyzed by melting comfort, Tarja couldn’t really move herself–all the gentle affection had her drooling in a comfortable puddle, and Quinn had to pick her up and carry her in his arms–which was a sight to see, given that she was now almost twice his height. Hadrian took up the rear, watching for any further trouble. The woods were deep, and full of uncomfortably horny sounds. Every breeze sounded like a moan, every rustle sounded like a crinkling diaper. Sandra knew where to go to avoid traps and other dangers, but she only had vague clues of what exactly she’d been avoiding. Frustrated after the bondage vines had been cut short, she almost wanted to find another similar trap to finish herself off–but knew that was a bad idea. Finally, after much hiking, she found the mouth of…a cave. The stone seemed to have been pulled back in folding layers, exposing a teardrop shaped opening with a glittering gemstone at its peak. “Is it just me?” Quinn said. “It’s not,” Hadrian replied. “That cave looks like a vagina.” “A vulva, strictly speaking,” Tarja considered. “It’s where we need to be,” Sandra said. “It’s…I think it has the right energy for you to make it work, Hadrian.” They penetrated the chasm, walking in with a bit of light from Hadrian’s familiar. It seemed to dip down a little, then raise back up, bending towards the core of the mountain. As they pushed deeper, the light revealed many dripping crystalline stalactites and sodden stalagmites, hanging from the ceiling and dribbling a white, viscous fluid down into puddles and columns on the ground. Based on the slightly sanitized smell, Sandra guessed that the fluid dripping from the extremely phallic stalactites wasn’t water. The whole cave glimmered with white puddles and shimmering natural crystals. “More like stalactits, am I right?” Quinn smirked. Hadrian focused for a moment. “This’ll do,” he said. “Just give me a few minutes to set up the magic. I want to make sure everything’s pitch perfect, we can’t risk breaking the crystal.” “I’ll guard the entrance,” Quinn suggested, setting Tarja down in a safe spot. “While you get the magic ready.” He turned, marching back to the cave’s mouth, sidestepping a particularly large puddle on his way. Sandra breathed a sigh of relief. They were almost home, and little was left that could do them any harm. Hadrian used the components in his pouch to set up a circle on the highest raised surface in the cave. He took his time, working slowly, making occasional thoughtful sounds. “Hmm.” “Problem?” Sandra asked. “It’s not a perfect match,” Hadrian replied. “It feels like it’ll get us home, but…I can’t promise we’ll end up where we want to be.” “It will,” Sandra said. “Trust me.” “If you say so. Go get Quinn, we’ll be ready soon.” Sandra nodded, shuffling back towards the entrance of the cave. The gentle breeze on her naked body made her shiver, but they hadn’t packed extra clothes for the journey–it wasn’t supposed to be a long trip. She heard grunts of effort as she got towards the entrance, and slowed down, silencing her footfalls. As she got close enough to see, she stifled a smirk. Quinn had his skirts pulled up, and was struggling to remove his diaper–his clearly full, clearly sagging diaper. “Gods–stupid–come off!” he grunted, in annoyance. “Aww,” Sandra said loudly. “Is someone having trouble?” Turning a little pink, Quinn pulled down the skirts of his armor. “No!” “‘I think we’re just smelling the forest!’” Sandra teased, loudly. “‘Could be anything!’ But it was just your diaper, wasn’t it?” He frowned. “It’s supposed to come off once it’s been used,” he complained. “It’s been used! I don’t think I can even use it more, or it’ll leak, but–” Sandra shrugged. “Maybe ‘Used fully’ means it has to leak,” she suggested. “Or maybe someone else has to change it. These curses usually have a ‘gotcha’ in them somewhere. You’ll get used to it.” He frowned, and she giggled. “Or maybe you’ll be the party’s new stinker, and it’ll distract from the rest of us!” she added. The teasing was, admittedly, juvenile, but he’d given her plenty of smart comments when she had the cuff on. She had reason to turn things around. “Is Hadrian ready?” he asked, changing the subject. “Yeah,” Sandra replied. “Come on, we’ll get home and then worry about undoing whatever stuff happened to us in here.” “Maybe a shirt would help,” Quinn suggested with a smirk, immediately erasing any guilt Sandra felt for teasing him back. They started walking back into the cave, into the low dip before the rise. As they passed the threshold and began moving up, though… Rumble… Sandra felt something wet around her boots. Looking down, she saw the wet, slimy…fluids of the cave had begun to pool, and that the line was rising rapidly. “Come on!” she said, running forward up the cave. The sticky white liquid quickly grew behind them, flooding the entrance and trapping them inside unless they wanted to go for a swim. Sandra really, really didn’t want to go for a swim. “Gotta go now!” she called, running up towards Hadrian’s circle. “I still need a–” Hadrian started, turning to glance at her. As he saw the quickly flooding pool behind her, though, his eyes widened. “Okay, quickly. Everyone get into the circle. Rocky!” He snapped at his familiar, who’d been wandering around the cave in no particular direction until now. It quickly shuffled in, clinging to Hadrian’s leg while he held the magic at the ready. Quinn ran to Tarja’s side, shaking her, but she was still lost in an affectionate pool. He instead hefted her, carrying her towards the circle, hopping out of a quickly growing puddle to get there. “Okay, just stand in a circle, hold hands, and…uh…” he hesitated, looking at Tarja. Both her hands were already held by ghostly apparitions, manifested by the enchanted handcuff. The cum line continued to rise, floating over the edge of the platform, and Sandra could see that they’d be drowning in less than a minute. It was already up past their ankles, then their knees, flooding in from nowhere. Spotting the problem with Tarja’s hands a second later, Quinn moved to act, snapping the cuff onto his wrist. Immediately, Tarja fell out of the magic and the cuff fell off her. With her hands free, Sandra grabbed one, and Hadrian the other, while the cuffs began working on Quinn. He had his hands free, at least, and they formed a circle, letting the magic take them– Sandra blinked as they all fell in a heap on the ground, splashing in a puddle of the cave’s fluids that had come with them. Herself, largely naked save for the prominent diaper and sticky gods-I-hope-this-isn’t-cum that had soaked over her body. Tarja, half-focused, still recovering from the puddle of affection she’d melted into, Hadrian in his latex bodysuit, weren’t much cleaner than she was. And Quinn, who was very obviously being fucked in every available hole by a conjured being made entirely of tentacles, climbing over his body, pulling up his skirt, working their way into his filthy diaper. Sandra blinked, glancing around. They’d made it back to their plane, but instead of landing in the circle at the Calistrian temple, they’d landed in another church altogether. And, by the densely packed crowd all around them, the party had landed in the middle of their weekly service. ... Support the author: https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

CW: The story begins with harassment. It's not focused on and is there to set up the comfort scene that takes up the bulk of the story, but if that could potentially be triggering to you, you can skip to the middle part of the story once it's over - I've highlighted it with a line break so it's easy to find. “Eat my dick!” I shouted at the asshole across the street, flipping double birds his way. He returned the middle finger, raising up a beer bottle in his other hand as though he might throw it my way. I started to take a step forward, in challenge, and he backed down, turning to shuffle down the street, away from the bar. In the dusky light, I could watch him go for a long ways, and kept my eyes on him the whole way. Once I was reasonably certain he wouldn’t come back–and that I wouldn’t need to bust his face–I turned and swaggered back into the bar, nodding at Chel, who’d taken a break from ignoring customers and was now actively glowering at them. “What was that about, Lex?” she asked. I shrugged. “He got confused trying to figure out what slur to call me.” “Dick,” she replied, shrugging. I didn’t really, particularly care. I dressed how I liked, and if anyone had a problem with it, they typically self-selected for needing their teeth kicked in. I’d yet to meet an asshole who I couldn’t at least trade blows with, and I always walked away having won at least as much as I’d lost. My clothing was my armor. Black leather coated in spikes, long hair stuck up in a brilliant purple mohawk, enough sharp piercings in my face and body to set off metal detectors. Even my leather skirt had sharp spikes around the waist. It all sent the message I wanted people to understand. If you touch me, it will hurt. Nobody touched me. Nobody except… “I’m off,” I shrugged, tossing a few crumpled bills on the table to cover my tab. “Night.” “Night,” Chel replied. Rolling out of the bar, I let my leather jacket hang loose, swaggering down the street. I didn’t need to go far, not far enough to justify detouring to the nearest bus stop. I popped in my ear buds while I walked, shutting out the world with music. Fuck the world. It didn’t like me, and I didn’t like it. I took care of myself. I answered to nobody. Anyone who tried to get in my way, I’d leave them bleeding. Only one person stood out as an exception. Mommy’s apartment building sat on the edge of town. I had a key to get in, though the door was so off-center I could have shouldered it open without much effort. Passing by the mail boxes, I moved up the stairs, counting steps. Halfway up, I met someone coming down. A big guy, with three days of stubble and a shirt he’d been wearing for at least as long, judging by the smell. He gave me one look and snorted. “The fuck are you supposed to be?” “Kiss my ass,” I replied. I didn’t stand aside to let him move past, and he didn’t move for me. I knew the expression on his face, the thought running back and forth between his two brain cells. ‘Are you a guy in a skirt, or a girl with no tits?’ I knew the answer. Let him wonder. I kept walking up the stairs, the glare in my eyes furious and fiery. He almost didn’t move, but when we were inches apart, he flinched back. Maybe his nerve broke, maybe he just didn’t want to touch me. Glowering and furious, I made it up the last flight of stairs, unlocked the door to mommy’s apartment, and, finally, relaxed. Her home was clean. It smelled like lavender and coffee, a stark contrast to the cigarettes and stale beer my nose was used to. One whiff, and I began to melt, the layers of emotional armor I wore slipping away. “Lexie?” Mommy called from the kitchen. “It’s me,” I replied. “I…” “Just sit down, okay honey?” I sat down on the couch. Nestled between far too many throw pillows, I knew I was out of place with the cozy, homey aesthetic. I didn’t care how it looked, I was home. She came out of the kitchen a moment later. She was my age, within a year or two, and her smile softened when she saw me. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing,” I said. Her gaze didn’t falter, waiting for me to tell the truth. “Just more assholes than usual today,” I conceded. “Did you fight?” she asked. I shrugged. “Didn’t have to.” She never judged me for defending myself, but I knew she worried. That I’d be hurt. That I’d get blamed and arrested. “Meet me in the bedroom,” she suggested. “We’ll get you changed out of your day clothes, then you can tell me about it, ok?” I pushed up from where I’d just sat. “Sure–” “Shh,” she replied. “Changes first.” It was our ritual. She opened the door for me and I walked into her bedroom. She kept it as neat and comfortable as the rest of the house, a bed large enough for both of us, candles on the dresser, but what drew my attention was the box of silver jewelry sitting by the bed. My heart fluttered, ready for the release. “Sit down,” Mommy instructed, and I obeyed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “Arms up?” I obeyed, and she removed my jacket, folding it neatly and placing the whole thing on the edge of the bed. Next came my shirt, and then she knelt, unlacing my knee-high boots and slipping them free. My socks came next, and then my skirt, and then, finally, my underwear, so that I was sitting naked on the bed, exposed and vulnerable save for my piercings. I had no tattoos; I preferred body mods of the metallic variety. So Mommy removed my steel piercings, too, one at a time. Her fingers were gentle and soft, caressing my skin as she moved from my head to my belly button, leaving only the silver Prince Albert’s piercing on my cock. “You haven’t touched this, have you?” she asked, touching the last bit of metal still on me, the only thing that stood between me and complete nakedness. I nodded. “Good.” She leaned in, kissing my forehead. “Now lay back, ok?” Again I nodded and readily obeyed, laying on the bed. Mommy retrieving her box of silver, full of her special jewelry. Starting at my ears, she said, “We’re going to use them all today, okay?” I nodded, and she reached out, slipping a pair of silver pins into each of my ears. Instantly, the sounds of the world vanished. I couldn’t hear the TV in the apartment below, or traffic outside. I could only hear mommy’s soft humming as she cupped my face in her hand. “Stick out your tongue,” she instructed. I obeyed, and the metal ball she placed on my tongue turned my voice numb and childish. “Can you speak?” “Uh-huh,” I said. “A…” I tried to say, a little bit, but even those words suddenly escaped me, so I just repeated. “Uh-huh.” The septum ring had no obvious effects, not yet, but I knew what it did, and the thought made me squirm. Mommy giggled as she moved to gently insert my eyebrow piercing, a metal rod above my right eye, and my vision and turned soft. It was as though I was seeing the world through a filter, pulling my gaze away from distractions. Mommy was always beautiful, but now she was captivating too, stealing my attention. I couldn’t look away from her as she moved her hands downward. I felt the piercing go into my belly button, a little silver ring that, I knew, stole my potty training away. So long as I had it on, I’d not be able to hold it in the slightest–and even if I did have an accident, my nose ring ensured I’d never be able to smell it. Which is why, just a second later, Mommy produced a diaper from beneath the bed and slid it beneath my hips. She traced a finger over the piercing in my penis, the one that kept me perpetually flaccid, unable to get erect no matter how badly I tried. “You’re such a good baby,” she praised, folding the diaper up between my legs. The rest of my outfit carried no magic, but it was just as important to me. My new skirt was pink fabric, and while a t-shirt and denim jacket wasn’t too out of place in my wardrobe, the colorful pony patches certainly struck a more playful vibe. Only my hair remained untouched; I was too attached to what it meant to me for Mommy to even consider adjusting it. I wouldn’t be me if that was changed. Last came the stockings, and those did have a little spark of power. While I had them on, I could walk, but only slowly and awkwardly. She encouraged me to crawl, and sometimes I did, though often I’d try to assert a little big-ness by waddling stiffly from room to room, struggling for balance. Dressed and diapered, I was helpless, and I was hers. I could remove the piercings, of course, but doing so would spoil the magic. I raised my arms, opening and closing my hands to request a hug–it was easier than trying to find the words. Mommy obliged enthusiastically, leaning in to wrap her arms around me. “I’m going to check on dinner,” she said. “It’ll still need a while longer in the oven, though. Would you like to cuddle on the couch?” I nodded enthusiastically, and she helped me sit up. “Do you need my help getting there?” Shaking my head, I got to my feet. My diaper poked out beneath the bottom of the skirt if I moved, but I didn’t care if mommy saw. Taking a few awkward, imbalanced steps, I decided that there was no reason tonight and dropped to all fours, crawling out of her bedroom with my crinkling bottom in the air. Mommy returned a moment later with a sippy cup of juice for me, and a plastic cup full of animal crackers. “I thought you might want a little snack.” I nodded, reaching out for both. “Do you want to tell me about your day?” she asked. Thinking, I tried to decide how to put it into words. Nothing had happened, I’d just been reminded too many times what people outside my select few thought of me. I’d stared them down and walked away the more self-assured every time, but I could only be rigid and strong for so long. “Bad,” I mumbled with my limited vocabulary. “Bunch of meanies. Made me...sleepy.” “It left you drained?” she suggested, filling in where my speech couldn’t. I nodded. “Uh-huh.” “It’s okay now, baby. Mommy’s got you, and you don’t need to worry about any of that while you’re here.” She pulled me closer, so I was almost on her lap. “I love you, baby.” A few words hadn’t been taken from me. I whispered back, “I love you too.” ... Hey, I'm doing a giveaway poll! Do you want a free commission from yours truly? If so, you're in luck! I'm asking people to fill out a poll, ranking their opinions on my short stories - If you fill it out and include a way to contact you, you'll be entered to win a commission giveaway! Details are in the link below! Please only select one 'favorite' and 'least favorite'! https://forms.gle/czLoFVUiH519TBxt7 If you like my writing and want to support me - and get early access to all my other stories, bonus content, and other perks - I have a Patreon and a SubscribeStar! My latest story in early access is called, "The Baby & The Skunk Tail" and I'm really proud of it, so I can't wait to post it publicly, but if you want to read it now you can subscribe and skip the wait! https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

Thank you! I've got all sorts of projects in the works. ? I'm glad you enjoyed it!

I'm glad you enjoyed it! I toyed with the idea of mutual symbiosis, but getting to that point proved tricky with the plotting. I decided to take this down a meaner route, and save my nice side for some other concepts I have coming down the writer's pipeline!

It took me a while, but by popular demand I finally got around to writing a sequel! Enjoy some more hardcore kinkiness. Part Two My face burned with humiliation, so intense that I could feel the warmth radiating from my skin, my cheeks almost as hot and sweaty as the parts of me sealed away inside my diaper. “I…” I started to say. Billie stared at me. I’d raised my skirt to show her my ruined diaper, on Haven’s insistence, but I couldn’t yet make the words come. “Okay, Chars, you gotta tell me what the fuck is going on,” Billie said, leaning against the wall opposite from me. She’d tried sitting down next to me, for a personal, intimate conversation, but the stench from my diaper had pushed her back and now she stood by the open window for relief. “Are you sick? Is something wrong with you?” (Don’t you dare lie,) Haven whispered in my head. “I’m not sick,” I explained. “There’s this…thing. It came out of the meteorite we found, and now it’s in my head, making me do things.” “That’s insane,” Billie said. “I’m not exaggerating. Chars, I think you need to see someone. Like a doctor, or a psychiatrist or something.” “I’m not crazy!” I objected, though I had a hunch she might be right. “I…Haven, can you help me, please?” (Tell her the truth, and I’ll show her.) I buried my face in my hands, too embarrassed to say it out loud. “Who the heck is Haven?” Billie asked. “I…” I mumbled. “This is really, really hot.” Haven did nothing. I flushed deeper. “You said you’d show her!” I objected. Still nothing. “Chars…” Billie reached up, putting a hand over her nose. “I don’t know if you ate a weird mushroom while we were hiking or what, but you really need to go talk to a professional. But change your diaper first, you really stink.” (Please,) I thought. (Just show her you’re real.) I could swear I heard Haven laugh, before they acknowledged my plea. (If you insist.) They plunged into me, and my eyes widened with realization at just how they planned on showing off their existence to Billie. I dropped to my knees in front of the couch, and Haven’s slick, cool form shot up my body, wrapping around my arms and forcing them behind my back. Billie yelped in shock as she saw the black symbiote that had overtaken my body, and though she couldn’t see him fuck me inside my devestated diaper, she could hear my moans of pleasure well enough. “F-ffuck,” I cried out, squirting into my diapers in seconds. I fell down, and with my arms held behind my back, that left just my exposed diaper sticking in the air. Sweaty and limp from pleasure, I rolled onto my back, and Haven retreated. Looking up at Billie, I mumbled, “Do you believe me now?” She nodded, horrified. “Oh my god.” “It… I can’t stop it,” I mewled. “It keeps saying it owns me.” Haven whispered a thought into my head, and I turned pale. “What?” Billie asked. “It said…it’ll only let me take off this diaper if you change me,” I admitted meekly. Billie stared, eyes darting between my humiliated expression and the overused diaper sagging around my hips. “That’s… it can’t enforce that, can it?” “Haven says, it doesn’t care how badly I rash, and that if it wants to it could heal it. And it…can always find a new host if I’m too damaged to be fun.” I shuddered, terrified of the implications. “O-okay,” Billie said, though her head shook. “Um…” “I bought changing supplies, they’re in my bag,” I said. “With my other, um, diapers.” (Already ‘your’ diapers,) Haven thought smugly. (So quickly you accept your new role.) “Fuck, okay, sure, fuck,” Billie said, her head still reeling with the situation. “Okay. Tell Haven I’ll do this thing on one condition.” “It can hear you,” I said. “It feels everything I feel, I think, that’s why it…tries to make me feel things.” “Then, Haven, I’ll only do what you want if you promise to let Charlie go in a week.” Haven purred within my head. (Does she think I’ll agree to that?) “It won’t do it,” I quickly explained. “But Billie–” (That’s not what I said. Ask her why?) “It wants to know why,” I said. “She’ll be boring in a week, won’t she?” Billie asked. “You can only escalate things so much. So give her a light at the end of the tunnel.” (Sure,) Haven thought. “Really?” I asked, my eyes widening. (I promise. You will no longer be my host in a week.) I didn’t know whether to trust the symbiote, but I took comfort in the possibility of hope. “Haven agrees.” “Good,” Billie said, walking over to my bag of changing supplies. She took out the pack of wipes and a fresh diaper, taking a breath to brace herself. “Okay, I can probably hold my breath through this. Just lie back and we’ll get this over with.” I adjusted my skirt to be completely out of the way and spread my legs, while Billie knelt in front of me, unfolding the new diaper. “This is absurd, this isn’t real,” she whispered, reaching out towards the tapes on my diaper. Haven lunged at Billie, and though I cried out, they simultaneously shot up my arms, sticky black semi-fluid pinning my hands to the floor. Billie yelped and tried to pull free, but Haven had her in its grasp, creeping up her arms like ivy. They pulled her down, tugging her body forward, and though she fought it was hopeless. Haven pinned her to the floor, her nose and mouth pressed firmly into the seat of my diaper, so that every breath she took got a noseful of the foul disaster I’d made in the padding. “Let her go!” I objected, pulling helplessly at the symbiote pinning my hands and feet. “Let her go!” Billie let out a desperate mpph and I saw her face screw up in disgust as she was forced to breathe in the stink of my diaper. (And what are you planning to do to make me?) Haven thought at me. I had no leverage, no way to persuade or coerce Haven into compliance. I collapsed against the floor, helpless. Haven let Billie go, retreating from her body. She pulled back, gasping for air and waving a hand in front of her face. “Jesus, Charlie!” “I didn’t know it’d do that!” I said, still pinned to the floor. “I’m sorry. Can you still…I still need a change.” She stepped back. “And what if it does that when your diaper is open? No fuckin’ way.” Haven retreated from me, letting me sit up and say, “Please!” “I’m sorry,” Billie said. “Chars, I’m really sorry, but this is just too fucked up. I can’t.” Haven chuckled in my thoughts. (You’re welcome to put on a second diaper.) I weighed my options between a second layer and letting the diaper leak, and decided on the second layer. I reached for the diaper Charlie had dropped, but Haven’s black form was a step ahead of me, launching out and seizing the diaper, pulling it over my first one. I could feel him working against the plastic shell of my first, soiled diaper, cutting a thousand micro-incisions against the material so that liquids could pass through, and in moments the new diaper was taped snugly over the first, forcing my legs apart with their collective bulk. “I…” I sat up. “I should go. I’m sorry.” “Yeah,” Billie mumbled. “Good luck, Chars.” I ran out of the room on that awkward note, waddling outside and to my bike. I couldn’t go home. Explaining this to Billie had been hard enough–I couldn’t even fathom explaining it to my mom. I’d have to find a motel or something and crash, and then… And then what? “Haven,” I whispered under my breath, standing next to my bike. “Did you actually mean to keep your promise about letting me go in a week?” (I’d considered it. Why?) “Well…Billie had a point. You’ll get diminishing returns if you keep doing stuff to me. My whole life can’t just be…this.” (But you assume you’ll be boring in a week. I’ve gone through your memories–I expect you’ll be entertaining long after that point. Don’t think you can get out of this with any scrap of your current self intact.) “What if I don’t eat?” I demanded. “I’ll go on a hunger strike until you leave.” (I can force you to eat. I can force you to do anything I want.) “Then why don’t you?” The question hung in the air, and Haven didn’t respond. “Why don’t you make me march back inside and humiliate myself in front of Billie even more? Why don’t you make me…I don’t know, get on a webcam and blast my diaper on the internet? You could think of a thousand things to do if I’m totally helpless, but you haven’t.” Still no response–but I knew why. “It’s because it’s more fun for you if I do it, right?” I asked. “You don’t get to enjoy it if you’re just forcing a limp doll to play out your instructions.” (Are you getting to a point?) “I’ll make you a deal,” I whispered. “Okay?” (Agreed.) Right. I didn’t need to say it out loud. I said it out loud anyways. “I’ll be yours for the week. And then you let me go. If you try to play with me after that, I’ll starve myself and go limp and you’ll not be able to get anything out of me at all. But until then…whatever. I can ride this out.” (How do you know you can trust me?) “I don’t,” I admitted, getting up onto my bike. My double diapers squelched between my legs and I blushed, half in embarrassment, half in ashamed arousal. “But it’s the best I can do, and I will keep my end up if you don’t leave.” (Agreed,) he repeated. (Now, would you like to earn your diaper change, or will you trap yourself in that same diaper all week?) I swallowed. I knew he’d follow through on that threat, too. “...how do I have to earn it?” … My fingers shook as I lay back on my hotel bed, setting up my phone for the video–a livestream onto my new twitter account, made just to show off my week with Haven. With a dozen hashtags all meant to get the attention of the kinkiest parts of the website, I started the video, sat back, and lifted my skirt. Haven took the camera from me, holding it up so that I could be seen fully, from my bright red face to my heavily sagging double diapers. I’d practically bought out the local sex shop, a dozen toys sitting next to me on the bed, and had to apologize profusely for the smell to the cashier, tipping generously to make up for it. I didn’t have much cash left, but Haven didn’t seem to care about little things like ‘my savings account’. “Alright,” I said, biting my lip and addressing the camera. “Here’s the deal. I’ll do anything you tell me to, no strings attached, as long as I don’t have to leave this bed. Please, please someone tell me to change into a clean diaper–otherwise I’m not allowed to.” The first reply appeared in response. A moment later, the second. Another. Telling me to get naked, to show off my tits, my diaper, to make myself cum–but not a one letting me change. I swallowed, and moved to obey, feeling Haven’s satisfaction. It was day one. Six more to go. ... It was the groundswell of enthusiasm about part one that convinced me to write a part two - especially enthusiasm from my supporters on Patreon and SubscribeStar! Thank you all for your comments and replies! https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

Thank you SO MUCH! I'm floored by the support we've gotten so far. ❤️

I'm running a very special short-time sale for, which I'm calling "The Folder". It's pretty much everything I've ever written in the past five years, kink-wise. (If you're not familiar with my work, check out the story forum!) A friend of mine is dealing with some serious health complications and insurance won't cover everything. I'm putting this on sale to try and raise money to help them. For privacy reasons I won't disclose exactly what's going on, but it's life-threatening and they need surgery and physical therapy afterwards. The Folder costs just 10 dollars and contains over 250 story files. This is the only time I'm going to be posting something like this - hundreds of raw docx files straight from my backup hard drive. By my reckoning it's well over half a million words. Every dollar goes straight to medical expenses. If you can, I would be incredibly grateful for the support. https://peculiarchangeling.gumroad.com/l/thefolder If you'd like to just donate to help cover their bills, I also have a paypal link you can send money to! https://paypal.me/peculiarchangeling

Chapter 11: She's A Mess Author’s note: Hey, I haven’t done one of these author inserts in a while! I realized that in earlier chapters, I forgot to specify precisely how time-out works. I’ll be going back to clarify those rules when I do the final novel draft, saying that it has to happen in the living room, and that there’ll be a kitchen timer ready to count out the hour, and that she can’t speak during it. Leaving time-out, speaking, or otherwise breaking the rules resets the timer. “What time is it?” Brains asked, leaning over to glance at the clock on Grace’s laptop. Before she could answer, ‘Six oh two PM’, he read the display and flashed a triumphant grin. “What happened at six?” she asked, taking note. “Eh…” Brains paused, pursing his lips and considering his words carefully. “Okay, before you open your mouth and lie to me, just know that I can tell you’re hiding something,” Grace interjected. Brains considered for a moment longer, then said, “I’m not going to tell you.” A stonewall was about the best defense he could have given, since any other answer she’d have been able to see through in an instant. Still, she pushed. “Brains… C’mon. You don’t need to keep it a secret.” He shook his head. “I promised–” “Hah!” Grace declared. “A clue. So you told someone you wouldn’t tell me about it?” “Yeah, but–ah, dang.” Brains said, realizing he’d fallen into another trap. She thought aloud. “So you wouldn’t tell me, specifically, which means…something to do with Pearce? Is he planning something that happened right after six?” Brains sat back. “Shut up. I’m not saying anything else.” While he refused to answer, Melody came down the stairs, glancing at the two of them. “So, Pearce hasn’t given up yet, huh?” (Oh, you’re kidding me.) Grace put the pieces together, between Brains’ standoffish refusal to answer and Melody’s sudden interest. “Do you two have a betting pool going?” “No,” Brains lied, appending it quickly to be, “Technically.” Recognizing that the jig was up, Melody added, “Skip’s in on it too. It was their idea.” “Fucking hell,” Grace groaned. “You made a bet, on our bet.” “We weren’t going to tell you because it would bias the results,” Brains said. “But it’s a few bets, technically. Who’s going to win, and how long it’ll go, y’know.” “Ugh, fine. Deal me in,” Grace said, reaching for where she’d normally have a jeans pocket. Instead, she’d been dressed in shortalls and a pink onesie, so she didn’t have her wallet on her. “Well, I’ll toss cash in the pot later. Pearce is out by tonight, and I’m going to win.” “No can do, Gracey,” Melody said, leaning against the couch behind her. “You’re already involved, we can’t have any insider trading going on.” “Whatever,” Grace said, sitting back. She had to admit, that was probably the fairest way of arranging things. “Wait, you said, ‘a few’ bets. What’s the third one?” “I didn’t say there were three,” Brains said quickly. “No, but you said, ‘a few’, and you’ve lectured me too many times on how “‘few’ should never be used when ‘couple’ would be better”, so I know you didn’t mean two,” Grace said. Brains glanced at Melody, who still stood behind the couch, and Grace felt Melody’s shrug more than she saw it. “She already knows the rest.” “So we are split on whether or not you’ll give up before you, uh, use your diaper,” Brains said. “Well I already did, so…” Grace started. “Oooh.” As if on cue, her belly grumbled a little, a twitch that reminded her what she hadn’t done since yesterday morning. “Yeah,” Melody confirmed. “And before you ask, no, we won’t tell you what we’re betting on either.” The second comment seemed directed as much at Brains as at Grace, but Grace just shrugged. “Anyways, I’m gonna go rap on Pearce’s door, make sure he doesn’t forget dinner,” Grace said, as much to excuse herself from the conversation as anything else. She’d been putting it out of her mind, but now that it’d been pushed to the forefront of her thoughts, she couldn’t really ignore the growing pressure any longer. She needed to poop, and Pearce wasn’t likely to just randomly resign in the next hour without an incentive. Knocking on his door, she said, “Hey, I’m hungry. When’s dinner?” “I’ve got it under control,” Pearce called back. He sounded distracted, and Grace almost pushed the issue, but another gurgle in her stomach called her away. Blushing, she stepped into her room, shut the door, and sat down on the bed. “Okay,” she said under her breath. “It’s okay. It’s no big deal, and it’s going to make Pearce give up pretty much instantly.” She told herself that a couple times before she believed it. It was gross for her, but she wasn’t the one who’d need to clean it up. Surely, Pearce would give up the instant he had to actually change her. Even with that in mind, Grace had to talk herself up to it. She paced, she put on music to relax, she chewed her nails uncertainly. Maybe there was a gambit, some way she could force Pearce to resign first, some ploy… “No,” she said, finally, facing herself in the full body mirror. She looked juvenile and, regrettably, adorable in her shortall-onesie combo. “Just do it. That’s the point. Don’t cheat the system, just play the game and win.” With that pep talk over, still facing herself, she dropped into a squatting position, held her breath, and began to push into her slightly-damp diaper. The dominant sensation she felt was a burning in her face, embarrassment shining through while she used her diapers for their intended purpose. The shortalls kept everything contained and pressed close to her body, and after holding it for nearly two days, the output of muck into her diaper felt torrential, smushing between her legs. It took her most of a minute before she felt empty, and her diaper tried to sag but couldn’t, not with stretchy fabric and denim all snugly against her body. While it contained the weight, though, it couldn’t contain the smell, which hit her nostrils a moment later. (Ugh,) she thought, sticking out her tongue and screwing up her face. (Okay. Just go find Pearce and be done with it.) Opening her door, she waddled two steps down the hall and rapped on Pearce’s door. “Uh, Pearce?” No response. (He’s got headphones on again.) She knocked louder, taking shallow breaths, bracing herself for the barrage of teasing he’d be sure to bring down on her. “Hey, Pearce!” Still nothing. Scowling, she threw open the door, and– His room was empty. Well, not exactly–it was full of trash and disheveled laundry, but there was no sign of Pearce. She glanced at the bathroom, but that door stood open. He wasn’t in there. Glowering, she stormed to the stairs, toddling down them in a huff. Brains and Melody had moved to the couch, along with some random guy with a bit of stubble and an arm over Melody’s shoulder. She paid him little mind, not even bothering to really memorize his face. Knowing Melody, he wouldn’t be around for more than a day or so. “Oh, hey,” Brains said, looking up from the TV. “What’s up?” Grace glanced hesitantly at the new guy, but he may as well have been a stranger. “Where’s Pearce? I, um. I need a change.” “He said he had some errands to run,” Melody said. “Uh,” Brains raised a finger, hesitantly. “Grace. You just…” “Yeah,” Grace said, blushing. “I know. That’s why I need a change.” Brains shook his head. “Oh, no. You just broke part of Rule Four. What do you mean–” Only then did the smell hit him. He wrinkled his face, raising a hand to pinch his nose. “Ouch.” “What?” Grace asked. “No I didn’t.” “Yeah. You asked for a change,” Brains said. “Melody, back me up on this.” Melody rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “Jesus, guys, really? Can you not have this conversation while my brother’s visiting?” Grace blinked. The guy was–she did a double take, finally getting a clean look at his face. He had more stubble, much shorter hair, and he’d lost about forty pounds, but it was definitely him. “Um.” She turned pinker. “Hi, Devon.” He glanced back at her, avoiding eye contact. “Uh… hey, Grace. New digs?” New humiliation rushing into her, Grace sputtered and spun, almost tripping over herself on her way up the stairs. She fled to her room, slammed the door, and collapsed onto her bed. Two minutes passed before a knock came on her door. She hoped for Pearce, come to at least get this over with, but instead Brains spoke up. “Let me in.” She almost yelled at him to go away, but Brains wouldn’t intrude without good reason. “What?” she snapped. “Can I come in?” “Yes. What?” He opened the door, shuffling inside, a hand to his nose, making him sound more nasal than usual when he spoke. “So, uh. You should really go sit in time out now.” She rolled over, glaring at him. “WHAT?” “Don’t shoot the messenger,” he said quickly. “You broke a rule. If you don’t go do your time-out now, Pearce is just going to make you do it when he gets home. You can’t get out of it early, and technically speaking, he doesn’t have to change you until it’s over–so the longer you put off time out, the longer you have to go without a change.” She rolled back over, burying her face in her pillow. “Not while Devon’s here.” “Well…” he started. “Brains, he was my first crush,” Grace whimpered. “I pined after him for like three years in highschool. I tried to kiss him when he graduated. And he just saw me with shit in my diaper, dressed up like a goddamned doll.” “Um…” Brains said. “He’s spending the night. So you’re not really going to avoid seeing him.” Grace screamed into her pillow, rolled onto her back, and let out a breath. “Fine. It’s fine. I’m fine. This. Is. Fine.” Brains took a step forward, reaching out to touch her shoulder, even taking his hand from his nose. “You seem really upset. Are you sure you don’t want to just quit?” “What, so you can win your share of the pot?” she shot. His face turned still, and he took a step back. His voice now monotone, he said, “Okay. Bye.” Grace’s eyes widened, and she sat up. Her full diaper squelched beneath her weight, but she barely cared. “Wait, Brains, I’m sorry–” He was already walking away, and didn’t respond when she said his name. She let him leave. His feet fell heavily on the stairs, echoing up the hall. She swallowed. “Fuck.” Getting up from the bed, she set her shoulders and walked back downstairs, wincing at every squelch of her diaper’s contents, marching right past Melody and Brains and Devon on the couch, over to the stool set up in the corner. Holding her breath, she sat down, the seat so low that her knees came halfway up her chest, and pressed the ‘start’ button on the timer. Her nose in the corner, all she could do now was wait. Partly, she’d been persuaded to get it out of the way. Mostly, she wanted to show that she thought Brains was right. It was the best way she could think to apologize. “What’s her deal?” Devon asked. “It’s this stupid bet,” Melody explained. “She and Pearce got into a catfight, long story short, she and him are in a pissing contest hoping the other gives up first.” “And that means she wears diapers?” “Yeah,” Melody replied. “And uses them. And she can’t feed herself, or go ten minutes without complaining about Pearce.” Grace couldn’t interject, to explain her side. She was in time out. She just had to sit there while the grown ups talked about her, stewing in her own mess, taking shallow breaths. She pulled her arms closer around her chest, watching the minutes tick down on the timer. When thirty minutes had passed, the front door opened. “I hope you’re hungry! And Devon, I got enough for you,” Pearce announced, waltzing inside. “So let’s tuck in, and…Ew, what’s that…Okay, what the heck happened?” Grace couldn’t turn around to see, but the smell of cheese and pasta sauce mingled with the more stale stink in the air, and her tummy rumbled. She also couldn’t explain. “Grace broke a rule,” Brains said, simply. “Aww, someone’s in twouble,” Pearce teased. “Sitting in time out in her ‘tinky diddees?” Grace’s face flushed, and she held her breath to keep from responding. “Well, this is what naughty babies get,” he continued, leaning over to pat her on the head. “Oh, and still half an hour? Oof, let’s hope she doesn’t run out of air!” She balled her fists tighter. Just leave me alone, for fuck’s sake. “Just think, if she’d held it a little longer, she wouldn’t have to sit in her icky-sticky diapers, making the room all smelly for the rest of us–” “Fuck you!” Grace shot to her feet, wobbling for a moment. Her feet had fallen asleep, and she had to catch herself on the wall. “Where the fuck were you? You just up and left without telling me?” “Um…” he took a step back, caught off guard by her outburst. Lifting the box from DiMaggio’s, he said, “I went to get pizza. Are you okay?” It was her favorite pizza place. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck– She spun back around, plopping back down on the seat. “Just leave me alone.” Fuming and petty, she pushed at the timer, resetting it back to an hour. Then, she buried her face in her arms, curled up into a ball, trying to shut out the rest of the room around her. “Hey,” Pearce said. At first, Grace thought he was still talking to her, but the sound was wrong. He was facing away. “I’m making a babysitter executive decision. Grace isn’t in time out anymore. I can do that, right?” “Whatever,” Brains said. “It’s your stupid bet.” “Here, Grace–” Pearce put a hand on her shoulder, but she shoved it away. “Seriously, you can get up.” “I’m not cheating,” she shot. “So fuck off.” Reaching out, she reset the timer one last time. That last outburst had only cost her a couple seconds, anyways. “Um. Okay. Well I’ll be here when you’re done.” Grace retreated deeper into her arms, shut out the world, and hoped they wouldn’t see her silent tears. ... If you'd like to support the creation of this story - and a whole lot of other smut - you can give money to the author on Patreon! Heck, you can give money on SubscribeStar too! Subscribers on either platform get early access and exclusive smutty diaper stories, including the next chapter of *this* story a month early!

Hey, so I finally went back and completed chapter one! It's at the start of this thread, I just edited the original chapter one post to include the complete version.

Fair enough! I might go Gumroad instead of Amazon, but I'll definitely tell you when they're up!

I wasn't necessarily thinking listing as a member, so much as collaborating with DD in a way where I'd give them some of my books, and they'd put them up for sale. (I'd be fine not even making any money off it directly if it supports the site - I get plenty of free promotion here from posting my content on the story forum, so I could call it a donation.)

Not sure if 'Tech Support' is the right place to ask this question, but I didn't know a better place for it. I've built up a fair category of AB/DL short stories and erotica, and I just recently saw that DD actually has a webstore portal for selling ebooks. I wanted to know what the process was for getting a book into the story - is that something that is even available as an option, who would I need to talk to, etc.?

“Ugh,” Jean slammed, ‘Go’ on her keyboard, skipping to the next person. Omegle really was scraping the bottom of the barrel that night. Dick pic, troll, dick pic, boring conversation, and another dick pic. At this point, she was almost getting so bored that she’d go do a puzzle rather than continue. Still… she’d stick it out a little longer. The next guy at least had an interesting schtick. He held up a ticking timepiece, and said, “Let’s play a game, okay?” Jean sat forward. “Sure. What’s the game?” “I’m going to make three true statements about you,” he said. “For each statement that is true, you will sink deeper into a trance, and when I am done, you will listen to my words without hearing, obey without knowing, believe without understanding. Do you agree?” She smirked. This was, at least, novel. “Sure. Let me guess, you’re going to tell me where I got my shoes?” He shook his head. “Your name is Jean Grayson,” he said, looking her right in the eyes. She blinked. How did he know that? Staring at the timepiece, she nodded. It was a good trick–she wondered what he’d say next. “When you were a child, you stole a necklace from your sister. She believed she lost it at the fair, and you never told her the truth, but you kept the necklace. You still have it.” Jean’s heart skipped a beat. Okay, that was a secret nobody else in the world knew–she’d never told a soul. How could… It didn’t… What was he going to say next? “One more true statement,” he said. “You will obey my next commands, perfectly.” Jean blinked. Her computer window had closed, and the clock was wrong. It said it was almost midnight–there was no way an hour had passed in an eyeblink. She sat forward, and then looked down. Squelch. Her skirt was wet, the white material stained…yellow. Her office chair seat was wet, too. Heck, her shag carpet was wet, the off-cream office floor turned a similar pale yellow that squelched when she rolled her seat back. She swallowed. What just happened? Taking out her phone, she checked the time, but it was wrong there too–almost midnight. And she had a notification. ‘Your order has been confirmed’. She tapped it, pulling up the email. She’d…subscribed to a diaper delivery service. For a year’s supply of adult diapers. Jean staggered. The…the guy on Omegle. He couldn’t have done this, could he? She tried to pull up the tab, but Omegle had no way to find old contacts. He was gone, and she couldn’t find him ever again. Standing up, she felt a little trickle run down her legs. She was actively peeing–dribbling, really–without any control or even the knowledge that she’d needed to go. And she’d ordered diapers for a year. She took a breath. This is okay, she thought. You’re fine. You’ll figure this out, it’s not that… bad. Her phone chimed again. She checked it. Six more order notifications, all from different stores. “Oh…” she said, finger hovering over the first. “Oh no.” ... If you like my writing, you can help support me so I can make more short stories like this! I wrote this as a special bonus for hitting 200 subscribers on Patreon. Writing kinky fiction is something I love, but my patrons make it possible for me to write far more than I ever could if I didn't have financial support - and you can be one of those lovely people! Patreon SubscribeStar

Contract lawyers are the only people who can make bargains with supernatural beings safetly.

Zeke read the contract one last time. Surely this wouldn’t come back to haunt him. Right? Right? He looked up at Agatha. “No loopholes, right?” “Exactly what it says on the contract,” she confirmed. “A life of pampered pleasure.” Holding his breath, Zeke reached down and signed the contract, sealing his pact with the succubus. With a poof of magic, the world changed. No longer did he sit in his living room, reviewing a contract. He’d been transported…somewhere. The room was too dark to see clearly, but he could feel the cuffs locked around his wrists and ankles. Fuzzy, soft cuffs–but cuffs nonetheless. A light came on, showing him a figure chained in front of him on the other side of a pane of glass. Or, no…it was a mirror. He swallowed. He’d been turned into an imp–obsidian skin, with horns and…a daisy-yellow dress with dozens of petticoats beneath the frills. Beneath the dress, an absurdly large, thick, and puffy diaper– “N-nope,” he started. “No, no, no, this isn’t what I agreed–” Before he could finish his sentence, something else popped into existence between his lips, which outwardly appeared to be a pacifier, but in his mouth he felt it extend to the back of his throat, a lengthy dildo that threatened to gag him. Agatha strolled up behind him. “And, here we are,” she said. “Exactly what you ask for. Pampers…” she reached down, stroking the back of his diaper, making the plastic backing rustle. “And pleasure–but we never specified who’d be pleasured. Of course, I think I’ve decided it’ll be me.” Zeke’s eyes widened as she pushed him over, and the chains holding his wrists forced him to move, bent over in midair. Only then did he feel the cool air coming through his diaper, where a small hole had been cut. “Now, just relax,” Agatha said. “And let mommy have her fun.” He felt a bit of pressure as something slowly pushed into him from behind, pressure that suddenly built and burst forward. Something thrust into him from behind, and at the same moment, the dildo gag seemed to thrust in his mouth, though no force seemed to propel it. Agatha thrust into Zeke, who ‘meeped’ and could only take it from both ends, trussed and helpless in his chains, diapers, and pacifier gag. And the mirror was still there, giving him a full view of the show. Agatha behind him, drool running down from behind the pacifier shield as he took the dildo in his mouth, his diaper puffing and crinkling with every thrust…and the erection building beneath his diaper, tenting out the thick padding. Agatha laughed. “See? You’ll grow to enjoy it,” she teased, bending to stroke the front of his diaper. His cock felt intensely sensitive, the single stroke feeling as good as sex, and he instantly began spurting into his diapers, staining the wetness indicator dark blue as it soaked up his orgasm. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind,” she snickered, pulling out of him. The hole in his diaper seemed to seal itself up, as he felt the cool air vanish. “That’s what your diapers are for–so you don’t make a mess while mommy’s having her fun. Now, let’s take off that gag and see what you can do with your mouth when I’m in front of you.” ... If you like my writing, you can help support me so I can make more short stories like this! I wrote this as a special bonus for hitting 200 subscribers on Patreon. Writing kinky fiction is something I love, but my patrons make it possible for me to write far more than I ever could if I didn't have financial support - and you can be one of those lovely people! Patreon SubscribeStar

Like a theme park ride, but for babying

"Please keep your hands and feet within the safe zone at all times.” Kailey stepped onto the slowly moving rubber platform, letting it convey her forward. Her heart fluttered as she extended her arms out in a T, allowing the machine to scan her in. Moving at about two feet per second, the machine rolled her forward, underneath a few dozen foot-wide rubber flaps that flopped over her body, till she was inside the changing machine. Mechanical servos extended, undoing buttons with machine precision, until her pants simply fell off her body and bunched around her ankles. A suction cup pulled against the back of her shirt until it came away, another arm released the clip on her bra, and similar cups pulled to her sandals, so that they’d be fixed to the floor. She held her breath and waited; this next part was her favorite. A large cylinder dropped down from above her, and with an incredible WHOOSH, she found herself pulled upward, the sheer section pulling her feet out of her sandals and sending her up, to a different part of the line. The force of the air moving buffeted her panties until they fell away as well, along with her bra, leaving her totally naked as the machine dropped her into a large basin of soapy water, slowly agitating in a circle, water jets blasting so that the soapy water pulled away the grime and dirt of a day’s work. She reclined into the tub, letting the agitated water do its work, cleaning her body thoroughly. Not a bit of sweat or grime would make it to the next step. She soaked, until the water began to drain, pulling her down towards the stopper. Knowing what came next, she put a hand to her nose, took a deep breath, and dropped down the chute. The slide pulled her down, rinsed the soap off her body, and deposited her onto another belt–this one lined with a fluffy fabric not unlike a bath towel. She lay there as an enormous blower began blasting her body, drying her off with warm-but-not-hot air that breezed over her, now clean and dry and ready to be dressed. She loved the dressing. Lying totally still, she waited for the conveyer to turn to shift, turning to two belts. A diaper slid forward, unfolded and ready for her, and an automatic folding mechanism and two rollers lifted it up so that the padding conformed to her body. From the side, two more rollers pushed forward, sticking the tapes down, leaving her diaper snugly attached over her body. The conveyer took on a slope, tilting forward, further and further, until it dropped her into a waiting onesie, unfolded and stretched open to accept her body. While the buttons were done up, the arm holding the onesie lowered her down, setting her in front of a screen. She stared into the image, a spiral accompanied by soothing audio. “You are a baby. Relax, and let your mind drift. You are a baby…” Kailey let the zen mindset fill her, looked into the spiral till she could see nothing else, and then– The floor dropped out from beneath her, and she dropped into a pile of stuffies that broke her fall. Landing in a heap, she sat up, looking about the playpen she’d been left in. Across the room, sitting on a couch and watching TV, her girlfriend glanced up. “Hey, Kailey. How’s your day been?” Kailey smiled. It was good to be home. ... Fun fact: You can help support the creation of more short stories like this! I wrote this as a special bonus for hitting 200 subscribers on Patreon. Writing kinky fiction is something I love, but my patrons make it possible for me to write far more than I ever could if I didn't have financial support - and you can be one of those lovely people! Patreon SubscribeStar

Ah, yes. Such a tradition! Like the first drink on someone's twenty first birthday, or the first long term relationship - one can only look on and smile with fondness as they remember their own similar experiences.