[Diaper Roommate Revenge]

Keep it going

[Changing it Herself]

This was a great story. I'd love to find a woman like this.

[Anyone repping San Antonio?]

South side

[It's My Job 1-5 (end)]

I liked it but it was very "real"

[Sunbathing Causes Diaper Rash (Complete In Six Parts)]

As far as injustice and kidnapping by a foreign country I don't like it. As far as sexual fantasy and kink, I do like it.

[Summer with Aunt Amanda]

Next story should be about changing his own diapers and going to college. Meeting a guy or girl or both that enjoy taking care of his diapers.

[An Alien Misunderstanding]

Definitely needs to be continued 

[Bedwetters letters]

Only criticism is this sounds like a boomer's ideal and very old fashioned. Married air force flyers? Small town girl waiting outside the officer candidacy school?

[Recessive - Ch. 15 (8-26-23)]

On 8/12/2023 at 12:25 PM, direking said:

Sorry for the long wait. It’s just been tough to break away to write lately.

I will try to get to responding to comments at a later time, I just wanted to quickly post so I can move onto the next chapter — which will be super interesting for both Beckie and Kaleb. So major apologies for not replying to messages and comments.

Thanks for reading!

….

Recessive 14
 
Things always start simple, but they hardly ever end that way. 

Layla had thought she would be the one in charge all weekend long, that she would set the terms and conditions. However, Dr. Mira and her mom had a different experiment in mind. One that involved her on the testing end just like her Tweener stepbrother, and Layla was about to find out that ‘simple’ isn’t as ‘simple’ as advertised.

“It’s very simple, Lay-Lay,” Debbie said as she settled down to change Charlotte, who was already flat on the mat with her skirt hitched above the waist. “Take off your panties and step into the level 1 DP, then we can get started on your behavioral study.”
 
“That’s where you’re wrong, mom.” Layla had a dark look about her as she glared at the princess themed pull-up in her hands. “I didn’t sign up to do this Immaturosis test, so I’m not going to put on the DP, and nothing you say is going to make me do it.”

His stepmom stifled a hearty laugh, which came off as a little melodramatic, but went with the territory when her ways were being questioned. 

“Well, look at the sass on you, Miss Fancy Panties. I think we’ve all heard this kind of talk before. The whiny-butt excuses like  ‘I didn’t agree to this’, ‘this is unfair to me’, and ‘I wasn’t the one to poop my diaper’. You sound just like any Little who got tripped up by adulthood, and exactly like Kay-Kay, is that someone you want to sound like?”

Kaleb would have to bypass his stepmom’s insinuation by comparison to enjoy this moment. He’d manage, somehow.

“I don’t want to sound disrespectful,” said Layla. “But you can’t just thrust an experiment onto someone — that’s not fair.”
 
Debbie rummaged through the colorful diaper bag at her side, producing a thick white folded disposable for Charlotte. She tapped the clean diaper to the laying girl’s inner thigh, making the teen spread her legs even further apart.

“At least we have one well behaved girl around here,” Debbie said with a smirk.

“I’m perfectly well-behaved!” argued Layla, as she angrily pointed to the floor. “I don’t need a diagnostic for anything like Maturosis. I don’t display any symptoms, I don’t have any cravings and I am perfectly in line with my peer group.”

“You’re quite right about not displaying any symptom of Maturosis — but we are testing for something different,” Dr. Mira said as she stepped into the fray. Her lab coat wooshed in like a cape, and she pushed her glasses further up her nose. “While carrying some commonalities between them, these two disorders are quite different and are treated as such.”

“They are?” Layla shifted her attention away from the pull-up in her hands. “If it’s different, then why am I supposed to wear a DP? It’s all so confusing.”

“When you listen instead of speak, it’s actually simple,” Mira answered coolly. “Maturosis is a cognitive impairment while Immaturosis is a behavioral issue. Since you’re so confused would you like for me to explain for you like you were four years old?”

“No,” countered Layla, “I’d like you to explain to me like I’m nineteen.”

Dr. Mira chuckled.

“Alright, fine. Immmaturosis is like a climb up a tall mountain. Imagine the many pitfalls and various grips, some parts are harder to traverse and sometimes there’s slippage. This mountain is all about learning to adult and processing adult responsibilities, all the while shedding immature thoughts and actions. When young people fall, they need to go up the same old paths a second time but do it right this time — its treatment involves going backwards to go forwards.”

Debbie asked, “How is that any different from Maturosis?”

“Good question, Debbie. Maturosis is even more simple. Think of it as falling down said ‘mountain’, learning coping strategies for each and every bounce from rock to rock, and bracing for impact at the next plateau. Unfortunately, those with the disorder always keep falling. It has everything to do with biology.”

“It’s in a Little’s nature to want someone else to pick them up, to clean their messes, and to take care of them. Betweeners who suffer from an overactive Little side tend to seek the same treatment. In fact, there are indications that they crave it even harder because they’re so close to being a Little, yet so far away.”

Kaleb mimicked the ‘so close but so far away’ part just out of Mira’s keen sight. He wasn’t brave enough to poke that bear face to face. Unfortunately, no one was asking the real questions, like why did all of the Maturosis metaphors have to do with geography? 

“All of this is supported by our experiments,” continued Dr. Mira. “We need to constantly gather new data to further understand these conditions. This is important research, Layla. We need your baseline as we try to get to the root of the Immaturosis epidemic.”

“There is no such thing as an Immaturosis epidemic,” insisted Layla, she was still trying to process all of the mountain talk. “I follow all of the scientific journals, and this is the first time I’ve heard of it.”
 
“I always knew there was something wrong with your generation,” Debbie started into a tirade, she was giving Layla a harsh look, one usually reserved for Kaleb.  “You may look easy for the real world, but you only know how to look pretty and play, that’s baby stuff. I’m happy that it now has a name: Immaturosis. It was so simple that it was staring us in the face this entire time. And Lay-Lay, you’ve always been such a Big help before, why don’t you put away that frown and be a good Little helper?”

His stubborn stepsister vehemently shook her head.
 
“I’m not trying to start a fight here, I didn’t agree to being a helper. I was just doing a homework assignment when I accidentally discovered that Kaleb has Maturosis. I mean, the hints were there and everything, but this was the first time we had scientific proof.”
 
“See, honey?” Debbie mulled over the folded diaper heading Charlotte’s direction, sliding a thumb against its pastel design and shiny tapes. “We are just operating in the same space as your experiment. And who knows what we may find out about you and your friends?”

Based upon the scowl, Layla wasn’t buying what her mother was selling.
 
“It’s not the same, mom, and you know it.”

“I like it when you fuss,” Debbie gushed, as she wiggled a little finger towards her daughter. “It makes you look so cute, almost as cute as you’d look in that pull-up.”

While his stepsister turned bright red like a fire truck, Kaleb tried to imagine what was going through his stepsister’s overactive mind. He could almost see her navigating through this Immaturosis minefield, but she didn’t have a clue about this Immaturosis thing— no one did. Well, besides Dr. Mira.
 
Diapers. Pull-ups. Baby stuff. Layla couldn’t believe for one second that this would happen to her — and all of her precious ‘simple’ was now a thing of the past.

Her problem still was kinda ‘simple’, as he far as he could see it. The baby treatment was all ‘old hat’ for Kaleb, but an entirely new experience for Layla. He had learned to adapt to his misfortunes from birth; to put up with diapers and pacifiers and bottles and pants-checks and letters sent home from school. That came with the territory of being a Tween in a Big world.

Due to his recessive gene, his world already came disassembled from out of the box; so Kaleb had no idea what it was like to have it fall apart right in front of his very eyes. 

Very much unlike his dear old, sweet and lovable stepsister. Layla had to suffer in her own living room, in front of her family and best friends, and at the whims of her role-model, or hero, or whatever you call a celebrity scientist. He could only imagine what it felt like; probably a lot like sand trickling away in the wind, and the pull-up was like a shovel that only dug deeper. 

Layla was supposed to be perfect. Too smart to fall for this treatment, too pretty to put up with this crap, and altogether too ‘Layla’ to be threatened into being the baby.
 
Now, what could she do? Nothing. And more nothing.

His stepsister was dead to rights. Amazon or not, pack leader or not, alpha cheerleader or not, it no longer mattered. No amount of planning could avoid this oncoming hurricane, and there were no contingencies for these kinds of curveballs. Everyone was suddenly turning against her, and she had no earthly idea how to voice that kind of frustration. Her immediate downfall rested on an invisible tightrope, and both Debbie and Mira had the kerosene and pack of matches at the ready.
 
Kaleb fought a nice smile as he watched it all go down in flames.
 
“Just do what we say for once,” offered Debbie. “Be a good girl, put on the pull-up and take the test. I think you’ll find that it’s no big deal, unless you think we will find that you’re not as mature as you pretend.”
 
“Oh, no-no-no!” Layla wagged her finger at her mom as she tried to correct the course of her afternoon. “I don’t need to put this on to help you with your test. Come on, you really expect me to fall for that one. This is a toddler diaper, meant for bed-wetting Littles, and I’m not wearing it.”
 
“What a pity…” Dr. Mira spoke as she took notes, proving she had the brain capacity to do two different things at the same time. “I had you penned as a real scientist, someone mature enough to do whatever it takes.”
 
Their new house guest was absolutely in her element. The living space had been transformed into some kind of Maturosis experiment zone, and Dr. Mira flowed about the room, quietly surveying the scene, and hyper-focused like a laser in a lab coat.
 
As he watched her work, Kaleb wondered what she furiously wrote into her electronic notepad. There were probably big words and Big words, researchy-things and observations a-plenty. The perfect kind of textbook junk that Layla was all about. His stepsister should have been having the time of her life, but things were spiraling out of her nexus of control, and even Dr. Mira’s very presence put his stepsister on edge.
 
“This isn’t science,” insisted Layla. “This is something else.”
 
“It’s just a different kind of underwear,” said Debbie. “You’re overreacting, which is a top ten symptom of Immaturosis, according to Dr. Mira’s self-published textbook.”

Layla scoffed at her mom, giving as much bad attitude as she could without appearing too petulant.
 
“Wait? What? When have you ever been a reader? I know it’s not in my textbook, a real textbook. Trust me, I’ve read that thing cover to cover, and there is nothing about Immaturosis coming from any of the other experts.”
 
“It’s in the new edition that hasn’t been published yet,” admitted Mira, she put aside her notepad before coming to terms with Layla. “You can fetch one of my copies from my car when you unload my supplies. But first you need to become my Little helper, and that can only happen when you put on your Detector-Protector like a good girl.”
 
No quick reply this time, his stepsister rolled the disposable underwear in her hands as she went over her options. The elasticity of the pull-up was stretched to its limits, just like Layla. The walls were closing in, her eyes darted from side to side to check for invisible traps around every mental corner.
 
“What about the wave readers?” Layla kept asking questions in an obvious attempt to stall. “Am I going to have to wear those as well?”
 
“Just get the DP on your precious bottom,” Dr. Mira expressed with a face as relenting as concrete. “And then I can explain how wrong you’ve been thinking about this whole thing.”
 
Without another argument at the ready, a wonderfully morose Layla helplessly stared down at the pull-up.
 
“Dr. Mira, if I may have a word.” Debbie looked up over her shoulder at the good doctor. “I want to apologize for my daughter’s behavior. Her obstinacy comes from my failure to raise her properly, something I plan on changing in my household. In fact, I have half a mind to pull down those workout shorts, and put that DP on her, then maybe ‘putting’ her over my knee.”
 
Yikes… Insinuation!
 
“Good idea, Debbie, but I don’t think it will come to that.” Dr. Mira circled Layla from just out of reach, tapping the stylus to her lips. “I think Layla is going to war against her own immaturity right now. Her inner narcissistic child wants to battle the cultivating blossom of womanhood. To get to where she needs to be, she’s going to have to let go of the things she wants to do.”
 
“What’s that even mean?” asked Layla.
 
“I believe you can figure it out.” Mira only fiendishly smiled. "And if you disagree with my research, what a great opportunity you'll have to prove it wrong. But I have to warn you, I'm not wrong very often."
 
This drama was getting too good, and he wasn’t even on the stage this time, which made it the best kind of drama.
 
Where was he watching all of this play out? Behind the couch, of course. The front side of the couch was too busy with all of the arguing, and there was a dirty diaper change on the horizon, he didn’t want to be near ground zero when that happened.
 
This was all just a ‘sneak’ game, just like in video games. The rules were simple: stay out of sight, don’t make noise, and don’t draw ‘aggro’. It was important to play this kind of thing ‘tactically’. Luckily, Kaleb was smart when it came to video games.
 
Kaleb peered over the backside of the couch, watching the Amazons work through their problems at a safe distance. He never appreciated this tiny space between the long sofa and the trio of windows to the backyard.
 
This was the first time for him to slide back here for a visit, and it was pretty nice for a spot that kept old trash and where the remote would sometimes hide. There was just enough room for him to squeeze back here, and he appreciated the combination of a super cozy and being away from prying eyes. 

He enjoyed the privacy of this crawl space, it made his entire body relax. The peace of mind wasn’t quite as good as an air-circulating ceiling fan or flicking the wheels on a toy dump truck, but he felt as if he could stay hidden on his hands and knees forever without being bothered.
 
“I still don’t want to wear this thing,” Layla said mostly to herself. “This study is not research based and I never heard of any of these concepts. Give me more time to think about it.”
 
“Just slide on the pull-up, sweetie.” Her mother was losing her patience, the fuse was lit behind the tone of her voice. “The more you talk, the more you expose your immaturity. I don’t understand how you can’t figure this out. It’s so simple, Lay-Lay.”
 
After all of that posturing and arguing, Layla was back to where she started: at square one.
 
The pull-up in question was the perfect kind of dress protection for a toddler girl or a potty trained Little. Of course, it was pink; a jeweled tiara featured prominently on the backside against the backdrop of the multi-tiered fairy tale castle. The letter ‘A’ sat in a baby block above the crown, indicating that this pull-up was the size for Amazons. His DP had ‘B’ for Betweeners smacked on his butt, and Littles just had different sizes. Their chart just assumed that they belonged in diapers anyways; but that was not his monkey, not his circus, and not his problem.
 
His problem derived from the excitement that coursed through him. Especially, as watched Dr. Mira strike the match that would set that tightrope ablaze.

“You will either join on willingly or fighting every step of the way,” Dr. Mira pulled the rug out with a harsh tone. “How you get into that Detector-protector doesn’t matter to me. However, it will be documented in my notes for posterity. I may even leave your full name in the journal when I go to publish. Every premier scientist will know how you react to this kind of toddler stimuli. If you keep up this bad attitude, they might even conclude that you deserve it.”

Layla took a second look at the pull-up, after that pep-talk from Dr. Mira, she was seeing things much differently than before.

His stepsister surrendered in a soft peep. “Can I at least change in my room?”

“Certainly,” offered Mira, “then you can get to work unloading my car.”

Kaleb should have felt bad about his little giggle as Layla headed towards her room wearing the shame of defeat and soon to wear the shame of toddler underwear. But he didn’t.

Every brother and sister has their ups and downs, and Kaleb spent most of his time on the down side of the sibling ‘see-saw’. He always had to look up to Layla as if she was the sun, just shooting her glorious rays everywhere, and there was nothing he could do but shield his eyes. If this was her turn for babyish humiliation, he might as well enjoy it. 
 
His stepmom returned her attention to Charlotte, who was patiently awaiting sweet release from her messy butt. The poor girl had her legs already spread wide, just waiting to send her ankles into the air at first ask.
 
“Alright, Charlotte.” Debbie laid out the fresh and folded diaper, which was white with pastel butterflies around the waist. “It’s time for your diaper change.”
 
All of the excitement had made him forget about Charlotte, and the smell of her diaper returned about the same as his attention. The changing station was already set, the powder and baby oil was already on standby, same with the wipes. Lots and lots of wipes were needed for a diaper like this: a Big, full diaper. That baby was bulging something awful, and he was transfixed on what was going to happen next.
 
“Whew! Girl!” Debbie yelped as she got a close up of Charlotte’s dirty diaper. “You’ve always been such a delicate little thing, I didn’t know you had it in you.”
 
Dr. Mira worked the periphery of the changing station, leaning over Charlotte as his stepmom prepared her changing supplies.
 
“I like how you’re telling her about ‘her’ diaper, Debbie. It’s important to drive home the shame of immaturity. Hammer it deep into her psyche, that’s the only way of getting through the other side of Immaturosis, instilling Charlotte with the responsibility for her messy diaper.”
 
His stepmom soaked in the compliment like a sponge. The adjacent Maturosis-energy gave her a new lease on life, he could see the liveliness return to his stepmother, as every part of Debbie became more vibrant as she relived her glory days as a young mother.
 
“Who’s a stinky girl?” Debbie sang to Charlotte. “Who needs a fresh diaper?”
 
“Take out her soother so she can tell you,” commanded Mira. “Self-reflection is a great strategy for personal growth. Think of it as one rung to the ladder out from the depths of Immaturosis.”
 
His step mom used her thumb to press the bulb-button of the Quiet Time pacifier, deflating the patented adjustable sized nipple, and making it easier to pluck it out of Charlotte’s mouth, much to her relief.
 
“Who’s my stinky girl?” Debbie repeated slower for the teen, expecting an answer this time around.
 
Charlotte seemed quiet for a moment, the Amazon teen seemed to consider her options like a multiple choice test. A) Give in, and tell them what they want to hear, B. Hold out, and maintain your dignity, and stay stinky, or C) Freeze solid and hope for help to arrive. He watched her face tense up, like she was searching for the quickest way out of poopy pants — so she chose option ‘A’.
 
“I am.” Charlotte peered up at his stepmom with tired, defeated eyes. “I’m your stinky girl.”
 
“Yes, you are, are, are.” Debbie poked at the defenseless girl. “Some little girl didn’t make it to the potty in time. Or did someone lose their potty privileges?”
 
“I’m sorry, I lost my privileges,” bemoaned Charlotte.
 
Debbie led her further along. “What kind of privileges?”
 
Charlotte whimpered, “I lost my potty privileges!”
 
At her admission, his stepmom did a victorious little shimmy before she reached down to rip away the tapes of the soiled diaper. Debbie hesitated for a bit, squeezing as much of this spongy moment for as long as she could. Charlotte laid there patiently, quietly, expectantly. Her legs were spread and her diaper exposed, probably wondering why Debbie kept stopping so painstakingly close to freeing her from this taped-on messy nightmare.
 
“Now, think about losing your potty privileges,” his stepmom drew out the insinuation, “whose fault was that?”
 
Her victim didn’t have a chance to think, it was rubber stamped on her butt — just like her caked mess.
 
“Mine!” Charlotte’s whole body tightly tensed as she confessed to her crime. “I pooped my diaper. And I’m a terrible mommy… I deserve it… and I did it… because… because… I’m not a big girl! I’m just a stinky baby!”
 
Debbie grabbed the girl’s hands and wiggled them in front of her face and cajoled with a silly voice.
 
His stepmom asked, “But I thought you wanted to be a big girl?”
 
Charlotte let her body go limp and malleable, unable to figure out what to do next, she allowed Debbie to play with her like she was a doll. Kaleb marveled at how differently his stepmother was in this exchange. He’d watched Layla walk all over her since, like, forever. Now, his dear old stepmother was in charge of this teen, infantilizing the younger Amazon like it was an old habit.
 
“I do! I do! I swear that I do!” Charlotte managed to gasp. “I am a big girl. I want to be a big girl. Please, let me be a big girl.”
 
“Oh, I’m not so sure,” replied Debbie. “Do Big girls poop their diapers?”
 
“No….” Charlotte’s face fell. “They don’t.”
 
“That’s right, little one.” Debbie tapped a condescending finger to the teen’s nose. “Big girls don’t poop diapers, they change them. Do you know why they change diapers?”
 
Kaleb could actually feel the ratcheting pressure in the room, as gravity constricted and the temperature seemed to rise in return. Charlotte knew if she didn’t have the right words she’d get a repeat of the same treatment. And she 100%, totally did not want to suffer like she’d suffered that day.
 
“Umm…” Charlotte searched herself for the right answer but came up blank. “It’s because that’s what ‘mommies’ like to do?”
 
“Unfortunately, that is incorrect…” 

Debbie sharply ‘tsked’ as she shook her head, that answer wasn’t good enough. No answer would.
 
“We change stinky diapers not because we want to. We do it because it’s the right thing to do. We care for Littles in the same way. It is irresponsible to let them suffer and fail, especially when we know exactly what they need. Oh, they’ll talk about how independent they are, and explain with many words how they never have accidents, but then they always end up in piddle-puddle panties and wonder how they got there.”
 
On that note, Debbie clasped the tapes of the diapers before loudly ripping them free. His stepmom unfolded the diaper, using the front to scrape away yuck from Charlotte’s backside. She was already onto the second wipe before Kaleb could pull his eyes away from the scene. Watching the mess get cleaned and spent wipes fly at eye level wasn’t what he had in mind when he first crawled down here.
 
The air in the room immediately turned sour. Kaleb didn’t know what kind of ‘scent-lock’ technology that Amazon sized diapers had, but it was certainly doing a lot of heavy lifting. He scurried on his knees and elbows to get away from the gross stuff, sliding to the edge of the couch, opposite the rest of the Amazons and towards a more private corner of the room. The move exposed his hiding spot as he crawled away from the diaper change, but avoiding the smell was a risk very much worth taking.
 
Something about all of this bothered him — besides just the smell. Something to do with expectations. He didn’t expect Charlotte to break as quickly as she did. He didn’t expect Layla to watch it all unfold like a helpless bystander. He didn’t expect his stepmom to turn into some kind of super Amazon. He didn’t expect some kind of famous scientist to set up shop in his living room.
 
He also didn’t expect the pair of strong hands that snaked their way around his ankles, and by the time he realized they were there, it was too late. 
 
It was Beckie.
And she was 100%, totally defying her restraining order.
 
The short haired Amazon with the heaving bosom dragged him out from behind the couch and into their corner hidden by an end table and trio of plastic plants in plastic pots. For the entirety of his short two-second trip, he clutched at the carpet, digging a winding trail with his nails; but it did no good, he was in her grasp and at her mercy. Beckie too easily spun him onto his back, encircled and crossed his ankles with both her hands, and lifted his knees to his chest like he was the one getting his diaper changed.
 
“Hey! Stop it!” Kaleb harshly whispered. “Let me go!”
 
“Why?” Beckie playfully jiggled his legs, rotating them at the knees like he rode a tricycle. “Are you hiding something?”
 
“No!”
 
“Are you sure?” Beckie poked her index finger to his T-shirt covered chest. “I smell something stinky.”
 
The two stared at each other for a moment, Kaleb took notice of the huge breasts barely contained by the almost wet T-shirt and the wild look in her green eyes. There was something ‘dark’ behind her lingering gaze, innately primal and to be feared, something motherly. He pushed at her to get away, but knew better than to kick a Big in the face. So he halfway struggled and got halfway results, which meant he got nowhere.

His captor scrunched her nose. “Let me do a little checky.” 
 
Beckie first sniffed at the space between his spread thighs. When that didn’t satisfy her curiosity, Beckie lowered herself to his raised diapered bottom and went nose to nose with one of the smiling teddy bears. She then pressed her face into the crinkling padding of his diaper and took in a big sniff. Then another. When she had decided that her insinuating violation was enough, Beckie returned his legs to the floor.
 
“I thought I smelled something stinky,” she explained as if that mattered. “But you’re still my clean little boy. Your bottom smells like talcum powder, and oh so, so nice.”
 
“I’m not a Little…” growled Kaleb, no one appreciates when someone talks about how their butt smells. “And I’m not yours…”
 
Beckie softly smiled. “You know I didn’t mean it that way.”
 
“Don’t give me that crap,” Kaleb grumbled, all too aware that there were other Bigs in the room. “Is there another way for me to be ‘yours’? You’re taking it a step too far every time, when are you going to get the picture and leave me be?”
 
Beckie paused to pretend that she actually considered his feelings, but the Bigs never did when they were trying to baby him.
 
“I don’t know, Kay.” Beckie shifted her fingers to a spot just beneath his ribs, relentlessly stabbing at his soft exposed belly. “You’re just too cute that I can’t help myself.”
 
“Well, you can at least ‘try’ to help yourself,” Kaleb muttered as he dodged her wiggling tentacles at his sides. “Aren’t you supposed to stay away from me? Isn’t that what the doctor wanted? If you’re bad, or whatever, you’ll be treated like Charlotte.”

Beckie shrugged. 

“Dr. Mira isn’t looking right now, and neither is your step mommy.”

His eyes followed hers as they darted around the room. Things seemed to have quieted down from before, now that his stepsister was done arguing with Dr. Mira. Now, it was just the two of them in this little corner. How had they managed to land somewhere so private in the middle of everything?

“So it looks like it’s just you and me,” Beckie said with a voice that sent his spine a-tingling. “Are you in the mood to do some more ‘research’? Your sourpuss of a big sis won’t be here to interrupt us this time, and I got a new game for us to play.”

Kaleb tried to sit up, but was promptly put back onto the floor. “What about Dr. Mira.?”

“What about her?” asked Beckie, she had a deviant glee about her that made her face glow. “Do you think she would want to take notes while we play? If I’m also naughty, maybe she’ll have to put us both in diapers. I can really teach you how to play if we’re both padded.”

This wasn’t working. He needed a new plan. A new strat. Lots of ‘aggro’ over here.

In a panic, Kaleb scanned the room around him, trying to find help or a way out. This was going to lead to ‘bad touching’, and he wasn’t in the mood. Maybe he should tell her that, maybe she’d stop. No. She wouldn’t. If she had her way, Beckie would give him another ride, this time to completion.
 
Everything seemed so much bigger from the floor. The ceiling stretched like the sky, the couches were more like mountains, and the Bigs were already gigantic enough, now they seemed like skyscrapers. The floor offered a different perspective to Kaleb; a Little’s perspective, a baby’s perspective, and he couldn’t wait to get on his feet.
 
Beckie put on a maudlin grin. “Okay, Kay.”
 
“What’s happening?” Kaleb asked as her hands crept up his body to his waist. “What are you doing?”
 
“I’m only doing what you asked…” Beckie said with a tummy-tickling purr. “I’m helping myself.. to a little more Kay.”
 
Yikes. This kind of intimate insinuation was dangerous. Very dangerous. 

Kaleb wildly swung his arms and legs at te Amazon, but once again, Beckie proved to be much stronger than him. She wrapped her arms beneath his prone form, flipping him around and into her lap in no time at all, managing to subdue him in less than a snap, in relative silence like a motherly assassin. 

Beckie cradled him in her lap, turning him upwards towards her breasts, which was as ominous as a full moon on a rainy night. 

Kaleb pushed at her with his hands, slapping at her much bigger arms with the force of an aggressive game of patty cake. When she controlled his arms, he switched to kicking at her, but his feet only ended up pedaling in the air. The futility of it all was so frustrating. He grunted and arched his back — right into her chest, then he stopped as soon as he made contact.
 
Kaleb would hardly be the one to call himself a ‘boob expert’.
 
In fact, his only mammary experience came from various internet pictures, R rated movies, and his brief pillowing session with Beckie earlier that morning. When his head hit ‘the girls’, he immediately noticed a difference in how her boobs felt from before. They were ‘fullish’, or ‘fuller’, or something just as sinister. Full of what? He knew, but words didn’t seem to do the horror any justice.

“Stay still.” Beckie forced his body into compliance.

He did so. 

Kaleb was frozen solid as Beckie clasped the back of his head, just above the neck and brought him face first with her waiting breasts. He could feel their ‘heaviness’ as she pressed his face right into her cleavage, as she rubbed his cheeks and mouth against the outside of her workout shirt. He cringed as he felt her nipples push through the fabric, they were hard and pokey, waiting for his mouth to latch.
 
Beckie cradled his head and ran her hand through his hair. “Don’t you just love this?”
 
No. He didn’t. He couldn’t say so because he was too busy being smothered. Kaleb batted at his captor with hands as she held him firmly to her chest. Did she get stronger or something? Because her hold on him was a lot tighter than he expected.
 
His entire world slowed as she tried to kill him softly with her breasts, as she tried to give him the old fashioned ‘mother-smother’.
 
All of his senses seemed to have been shuffled around. 

From far away, Kaleb heard the sounds of Charlotte’s diaper change. The noisy freeing of wipes that slithered from their crinkling plastic packaging, the popping sound from unfolding a huge disposable, all against the backdrop of soft sounds of Debbie’s wooing and cooing. Their voices rose then fell, the words lost in some kind of time echo. All of his surroundings seemed so far away at this profound and chaotic moment.
 
Besides trying to breathe, or get away, or wish himself out of oblivion, Beckie was his everything right now. Her body felt soft and firm, her candy smell was enticing, her body’s scent seemed to have changed, emanating peace like a lit candle. He could hear her heartbeat just beyond her bosom. It sped like his sped, pumping blood faster in unison, like they were both in some kind of mother/baby tandem, unable to break free from this kind of natural rhythm.
 
Beckie lowered herself into his face, using a finger to trace his lips, as he swallowed hard.
 
“I know exactly what you need…” Beckie said softly, in almost a whisper. “I can see it so clearly now. This explains your behavior, just like in the textbook. You’ve been craving some classic maternal bonding this entire time. Luckily, I have just the thing.”
 
With one hand wrapped around him with the force of a constricting boa, she used the other to start rolling up the front of her shirt. 

The scene was exactly the kind of thing in his nightmares. His willpower could barely hold water, filled with so many holes since it was shot to Swiss cheese. His strength reduced to nub, nothing there except a remembrance of better times. Kaleb couldn’t move, he couldn’t resist, and at the root of it all, there sat some kind of morbid curiosity wondering what would happen if he didn’t put up any more fuss.

 

 

So I really like Becky now and wish I wasn't already married

[Sid, Bec, and Bucky the Horsy: A messy diaper punishment story]

I love this story. Please tell me there will be more.

[Sam's Fate]

Needs to continue

[Reusing pull-ups?]

Diapers are not as detectable as they feel. Also they eliminate the need for a stop in the restroom. I don't need them but they are nice to have on. Public toilets are pretty gross so wearing your own is nice

[Got my RADAR key today]

We need those keys in the US. I can't tell you how many times I had to toss a bum that was smoking rocks, or sleeping in a handicapped stall when working security at whataburger 

One of them smelled like he was sleeping in shit

[Is nobody dry anymore?!]

Pissing your pants is mainstream, that's why I shit mine

Lol

[Colon resection surgery]

Seems like our creator didn't do a lot of fine tuning. If we were cars we'd be a Ford. 3 recalls every time you get an oil change 

[Is there ever a safe time for changing?]

On 6/30/2023 at 5:57 AM, Dubious said:

That's what I use per month..

But 4-5 diapers a day is not uncommon when you get shitty diapers for free. 
Cloth-like last half the time as plastic diapers, and cost the same, yet they are getting rid of plastic diapers.
Clearly they haven't been told that cloth-like has more plastic, than plastic diapers. 

Didn't take that into consideration. Yeah. That's about right for institutional grade

[Sex with My Wife since 24/7]

On 5/14/2023 at 7:29 AM, babykeiff said:

@PlstkBakdnghtnday

from your profile listing, you are 34 years of age. As a result, apart from baby play and acting and behaving as such and giving another the authority in the guise of you acting as a baby or whatever roleplay you choose to be involved in, you have stated that your partner decides who you are allowed to play with etc. If that is the situation you are in, where is your free choice? Any partnership should be based on trust, and any partnership that isn't should be ended. You, and everyone in any relationship should not infringe on freedoms. It is your choice if you wish to give another (in the role of play) the authority to act on your behalf, but you stated that your spouse does not like diapers and/or diaper play - which is their free choice. For them to chose who you 'play with' is

1. an infringement on your freedoms = they themselves are hiding something
2. proof that they do not trust you = they themselves are untrustworthy and will / have cheated on you
3. they need to control you, and everything else - but only on their terms = they want and will eventually have you as their slave = they do not respect you as a human, only something that performs tasks for them.

As a result, I do not think that you are in a relationship. You may be sharing property etc with a person, but that person is not your partner / equal. As such, I suggest that you end that, and move on. You are better than that.

I also sign off on anyone he plays with. Although I trust his judgment. He has been the best thing that ever happened to me and while he doesn't share my enjoyment of diapers, he doesn't keep me out of them. We've built a life together and a home together. He has his role and I have mine. 

PS: DD doesn't automatically update your age. I'm 42

[First cystoscopy scheduled, help!?]

13 hours ago, zzyzx said:

Google is your friend: benign prostatic hyperplasia

Basically an enlarged prostate.  When it grows around the urethra, well, you get some blockage....

That sounds not good

[First cystoscopy scheduled, help!?]

On 5/19/2023 at 10:41 PM, zzyzx said:

@mick_dl: I'm the one mentioned the Rezūm procedure above.  In my opinion at the age I had it at, and it appears (based on display age, which maybe you haven't adjusted since you joined), that both of us are still on the younger side for BPH - i.e. early onset.  For me, I definitely preferred Rezūm over the more standard TURP procedure.  There are also some other alternatives that are also minimally evasive.  Note that if you have a higher risk of cancer, the Rezūm procedure does not provide a tissue sample to test for cancer.

At the time I had the procedure, the initial 2 year analysis of the original experimental studies had just been published, and the procedure was just approved for "normal" usage.  For the Urology clinic I was at, the doctor said that they had performed about 100 of the procedures, and my doctor had performed about 15 prior to mine, and clinic was not part of the experimental study.  At that time, the procedure code (that the insurances want to let you know if they cover a procedure or not, etc.) was just being assigned while I was working on getting approval (from insurance) for the procedure....  Since then, the five year follow up of the original study has been published, so there are numbers available for how many of the first round needed additional follow up procedures in the first five years. 

For me, there was definitely improvement in flow, once a few (2 or 3) months passed, which is time needed to permit the body to absorb the killed off tissue.  For just under the week after the procedure, a catheter was left in to allow for healing and then removed.  I had some minor bleeding initially, probably from something stretched or torn while getting the device down to where it was needed.  Nothing major, and cleared reasonably quickly.  While using the catheter I was able to work from home.

The main problem I had was prior to the procedure, my bladder capacity had already shrunk from the issues of the reduced urination flow from BPH.  I partially recovered capacity after the procedure (along with a perceived better flow rate), possibly in part with the help of being on Mybetric (sp?) for a year after the procedure.  After that, my insurance dropped coverage of Mybetric and I went off that medicine. 

Prior to the impact of BPH I had above average functional bladder capacity.  After retraining I managed to get back to about 2/3's of my prior functional bladder capacity.  I think I'm down to about 1/2 my prior functional bladder capacity at this time, which may indicate slight regrowth of the prostate.  Even my current functional capacity would be considered in "normal" range.

I do have some  daytime light leakage, I believe from (a) occasional (very) strong urges on a fuller bladder and (b) post mictriction drip.  The post mictrition drop was present prior to the Rezūm procedure.  I feel these (minor negative) results are minimal compared to the potential outcomes from the TURP procedure.  And my issues with how I sense things (independent of BPH) I believe contributes to the issues with strong urges.

Feel free to ask more questions, here, in a new thread or on https://incont.org/  .

What's BPH

[Just wondering for those who wear Onesies to bed!]

I'm in diapers 5 days a week. I don't need them but I've grown so used to them in the 30+ years of my brain telling me I need this that wearing them has become 2nd nature. I've had sleeping accidents where I was diapered and woke up in wet underwear. I'm still enjoying my padding and life goes on.

[Premium diapers in Seattle]

Incon in baller world isn't an issue I guess

[Carer Incontinence Underwear]

Those look interesting. Any room for added protection? 

[Incontinent but Uusing diapers even when you could make it to the bathroom]

On 5/16/2022 at 6:57 AM, John Davis said:

There are two very different approaches to diapering - 1) more frequent but faster changes versus 2) longer time between changes and longer time required to change.

On the first approach, one wears just a diaper or a diaper with plastic pants.  That makes it much easier to try to pee in the toilet.  For the second approach (me), I wear a premium diaper with a booster pad, a thin cloth pullup to absorb leaks, two pairs of plastic pants, and a onesie.

With the second approach, I am extremely well protected against a leak but I essentially am functionally incontinent as I would have to remove all those layers to pee.  By the time I sense the need to pee, I do not have enough time to make it to the toilet and remove all my protective layers.  So, I plan to just use the diaper and make no attempt to rush to the toilet.

As I also am bowel incontinent and a side-sleeper at night (and during my naps), there is a bit of “overkill” built into my diapering strategy.

What do you guys/gals think?

—John

(double incontinent)

That does seem like it's overkill and I think one premium diaper in place of underwear would not only cut costs but laundry. If you're going to wear a onsie I do think plastic pants are a good idea because I've found the crotch of the onsie will typically come in contact with urine and absorb some of it. I would wear a solid color onsie sometimes as an undershirt to prevent peeking.

[Hot poop]

Yes,and hot pee. Then the doctor gave me two pills. Watch where you put your weiner, you might get burned. 

[When Was The Last Time You Pooped Your Diaper]

Right after breakfast. It wanted out so I got up, started walking out to water the plants and the mud slide started. Finished watering the plants and made sure I was empty. Then I showered and changed.