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About ozziebee

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  1. I've been having IC issues for some time, and only been dealing with them medically since September. I wear pullups to work, and nappies at all other times. Why I'm posting this question here, and not in the main IC area, is that I know a number of people here are going through voluntary stages to be fully IC. I see a lot of my current symptoms in what people in this chat are stating (especially Ferix and MarkSmith), and getting nervous as a result. Thus the question, are there symptoms/signs that _that_ point has been reached, where it becomes very difficult to impossible to revert the regression of continence? At the moment, my wettings are less frequent, but more volume per wetting. I cannot stop it once it starts. About 90% of the time, there's no clamping up before release of wee - the times I do feel a clamping sensation, I feel a bit of stinging. The bladder urges/pains have mostly disappeared. I woke up two nights ago in the middle of a heavy wetting episode (I've normally been slightly conscious of about to wet each time overnight). I'm basically never dry in nappies - have even had the odd wetting episode not a minute after taping up a fresh new nappy. Curiously, I'm mostly dry in the pullups at work (I do frequently go potty at work), and I think this is because I'm sitting down all day at a computer (I can sit at my home desk and wet reasonably freely).
  2. Chapter 2 - The Making of Meredith NAP started with my being completely undressed, stripped naked by a nurse, wherein I was attached to various life support machines via wires, medical drips, catheters. As the pre-op preparations continued, I was given an anaesthetic, hooked up to another ventilator, wheeled into the OR, wherein the surgeons hooked up my main arteries through large bore tubes to more machines. With a mechanically electric motorised whir, the machines came to life, starting the process of filtering, infusing, and nano transforming my blood. There were racks of blood bags behind the machines containing stem cells, infant blood products, some of my own blood DNA, and some of my new Amazonian parents DNA product. As my own blood was filtered, it was very slowly mixed with the matched blood in the bags. Over time, the ratios of original Little blood to new baby Amazonian blood would change. The filtering process not only scrubbed my blood, but also was a conduit for modification of the DNA. The whole process started a day earlier in NAP, when the blood products being slowly infused into me were chemically mixed in a lab with my DNA, and my new parents' DNA. Thus, I really did become a Bradley child by blood, beyond what the Adoption chip digitally stated. It was also at this point that my DNA was genetically modified to inhibit any further Little development, and introduced Amazonian traits, reinforced with even more stem cells loaded with Amazonian DNA/RNA from my new parents. When this blood was re-introduced back into my bloodstream, body functions took control, chemically and molecularly being reprogrammed to biologically modify bone density and size, organ shapes, sizes, inputs and output levels, fat distribution, muscle sizes and strength. Those cells lost through resizing were ejected into the bloodstream, and passed out towards the filter machines. The whole chemical process took quite some time, a slow but steady pace. A skull cap containing electrodes was gently placed over my head, with the myriad number of wires connected to a computer bank. Even though there was now a chemical transformation process going on inside my brain and the rest of my body, this cap was to be the conduit through which the behavioural, memory, mental and emotional aspects would be tackled. A technician flicked on his monitors, took a look at the health of the system, before finally executing a program. > Booting NAP for Meredith Louise Bradley... please wait ............. > Learning physiological signs from Life Support, please wait.......... It seemed, even with ultrafast computing power, there was a lot of waiting the surgeons and technicians had to endure. > Compiling NAP packages, please wait......... > Randomising state values........ Done > Normalising randomised values to reflect selected age........ Done > Emotional and physiological age = 9mo > Emotional and physiological state = changed per age > Blood born age = 9mo > Bladder state = changed per age > Bowel state = changed per age > Voice state = changed per age > Human attachment = added > Object attachment = added > Fine Motor Skills = modified per age > Coarse Motor Skills = modified per age > Walking skill level = modified / disabled per age > Crawling skill level = added per age > Suckling skill level = set per age > Feeding skill level = set per age The list went on and on, the compiler output rapidly scrolling up the screen. > Baby Learning skill level = set per age > Baby knowledge = added per age Hmm... the technician mused as those two items scrolled up in the list. Shouldn't these settings be set to "modified"? But the thought was fleeting, as the normal third item (Adult Knowledge) didn't appear this time. > Basic life skills = changed per age > Adult skills = deleted The list kept scrolling. Adult skills means loss of adult knowledge, right? By the time the technician had the thought, the compilation was over. Loading another program, the technician specified the newly compiled data file as input, and selected run. A progress bar appeared, and the techie sat back in his chair, looking across at the doctors, monitoring my life support systems. Over eight hours, my body gradually changed shape. To those in the room, those changes were largely unseen, apart from the obvious changes displayed on monitors. To an outsider, like Stowe, I'd be unrecognisable. Once the brain reprogramming was completed, they removed the skull cap, disconnecting my body from the computer banks. Another doctor pushed a large bath-like container full of clear red fluid over to the operating table I was laying on, and locked the wheels. Very carefully I was lifted by straps placed under me, and slowly lowered into the bath until I was completely covered. The fluid immediately went to work to resurface my skin, shrinking it to more naturally cover my much smaller, and still shrinking skeletal frame, with old layers of skin peeling off and dissolving away. The hair on my head changed to a baby fine silky soft whispy blonde colour. My nose changed shape as the fat continued to be redistributed around my face. My slender cheeks started to plump out a touch, with tiny dimples appearing. My adult teeth were dissolved away. Stem cells invaded my gums, to grow the buds of another set of baby milk teeth, and behind them a new set of adult teeth, which would eventually erupt normally years and years later. Because my state wasn't meant to be water proof, the clear red fluid was allowed to flow down my throat, inside me, where it invaded my lungs, causing them to change shape, volume, and density. The nano treatments carried by the fluid also attacked my heart, reducing it in size, which caused it to beat faster and faster quite naturally. I wouldn't see my fantastic Little resting 52bpm for many many years. The red fluid started on my stomach, and eventually seeped into my bladder and bowels. After about 12 hours, the drug and blood therapies were finally complete. Changes within my body were still well in progress, and would continue unabated for another day or so. But these changes were all internal, and my natural body functions to expel wastes were sufficient, so I was removed from the bath, gradually weaned off the bypass machines and filters. The large bore tubes were removed, and I was sewn back up, and wheeled out of the OR to an ICU isolation room. "Mrs Bradley, will you come with me please?", a nurse asked as she approached Jennifer and Keith in the waiting room the following day. Jennifer stood up, looked at Keith, smiled, skipped a few steps, and dutifully followed the nurse down a nondescript hallway to an ornately decorated and quiet room, containing a hospital bed located under a window, and a door leading to a bathroom off to one side. "Oh, this is nice!", Jenn whistled. "You have your supplies we talked about?" "Yes, my husband does" "Ok, I'll go and get him later, but let's get you ready", the nurse said with a smile. She walked over to a cupboard, and pulled out an hospital gown, passing it to Jenn. "If you can completely strip to just your knickers, put this gown on and hop into bed for me, would be good" Jennifer, completely expecting this, quietly complied, and unbuttoned her blouse, unstrapped her bra, pulled down her skirt, and handed them to the nurse, who hung them in the cupboard. Jenn then slipped into the gown, pulled back the sheets and slid into the bed, immediately adjusting the bed head position so she could sit up. The nurse then started taking Jennifer's vitals, recording them on a chart at the end of the bed. "All good, are you ready?" Jennifer could feel her heartbeat rising in anticipation of seeing Meredith for the first time post NAP. "Yes, absolutely", whilst unconsciously wiping her hands together and on the sheets from nerves. I was fast asleep, happily dreaming away, until I began to sense some motion, and sound around me. For the first time in what i thought was a long time, I felt blissfully warm, smothered in a wonderfully soft blanket, totally relaxed with nothing to worry about, and not a pain in my body anywhere. I tried to move, to stretch my legs and arms, but was quite constricted. Slowly opening my eyes, I involuntarily grunted, emitting a weird sound as a result. I could see I was laying partly over on my left side, with something firm against my back, inside a glass box, which was being pushed down a hallway. I really wanted to stretch my legs, but there was little movement. I could sense my knees were bent, legs spread wide apart. I could feel my butt encased in an amazingly soft, but slightly warm nappy, which seemed to have a ridiculously high rise both front and back, single taped, elastic waist gathers up on my rib cage almost! God it felt good though. Must get more of what they put me in. As my want to stretch and move my legs kept failing, I could sense frustration building. At that, I was highly surprised as I felt my face blush a cute red, I let out a yelp, and started crying, real tears beginning to fog my vision, and cascade down my cheeks and my button of a nose My voice was emitting a high, but quiet crying waah, yet another startling discovery. What is happening with my voice? It's cute, but geez, what's happened here? As my cheeks started to blush even more from the exertion of crying, I could also feel goosebumps building up. A thought thundered around my brain, am I a ....? No, impossible. I sensed my glass box stop moving, and opened my eyes to see a nurse open a cover to lean in towards me. With one hand under my head, and another under my lower back and butt, she effortlessly lifted me out of the box. The shock of going from a wonderfully warm box, to a much colder and far larger space, caused more tears. I closed my eyes, and really let out a balling cry for help, tears streaming down my face, nose all a mush. My voice was a bit mousey, and I had to cough a few times to clear my lungs, in amongst the sobs. "Here we go! Got her?", I heard, as I was being passed from the box to someone. "Thanks", came the reply. Now I've heard that voice before, somewhere. It was soft, very feminine, and weirdly reassuring. I was still in full cry mode as I was gently lowered onto Jennifer Bradley's exposed chest. My right cheek touched warm skin, which felt oh so inviting. Oohh, I nuzzled. "Shhhhh now, baby, it's all over, no one will hurt you ever again", that voice quietly commanded. I could feel the blanket being unwrapped from me, more cold air wafting over me, more goosebumps, and the beginnings of a sweet sweet smell envelop me. Very distinctly Amazonian womanly smell. As the blanket was removed, more skin to skin contact ensued, until I sensed I was completely naked except for my nappy, lying on top of this woman who also seemed to be naked, my arms out to my sides. I could finally stretch my legs, and so began to calm down. "Shhhhh", she bent her head to look down at me. I felt the blanket being draped over my back and legs, the cold air warming up around me once more. More intense sweet and sweaty smells saturated my olfactory and brain, intimate and sensual touches of my skin from the Amazon, a massive hand cradling my head, fingers exploring through my hair, another massive hand slowly rubbing my back. I started to revel in the body heat building up around me, on me, caressing my tired body. My eyes opened slowly, as a calming influence started to grip me hard. My right ear was directly over the woman's heart, hearing (and feeling) the very steady and slow thump, thump, thump of her heartbeat through her chest. I could just sense my own heartbeat, which was racing with a much faster cadence. How much more evidence do you need, Meredith? The Amazon woman shifted my positioning on her chest, as my cries finally whimpered out. Warmth and security will do for the moment. My left eye caught her attention, and I was again mesmerised by those deep blue eyes. "Hi, Meredith!", she lovingly spoke, with a huge grin appearing. A few seconds later, I could see tears forming in those eyes, but she fought back from whatever her pain was, to crane down and kiss me lovingly on the cheek, which immediately blushed red. Feeling decidedly secure, comfortable and rosy warm, I closed my eyes, yawned, and fell off to sleep, with a final quiet whimper. Jennifer looked up as Keith appeared in the doorway to the room. "Are we all good?", he asked. "Yup, all good", she responded quietly. "She was a bit upset for a while, but is very much asleep at the moment". "Yes, I could hear her from the waiting room". Keith bent over the bed and delivered a nice sloppy kiss on the forehead of his wife. Jenn followed it up with a kiss on Keith's lips. Keith looked down at the sleeping baby nestled comfortably on her new mum's chest. "Gee, what a change, eh! So small" "Yeah, I'll say. She's perfect, Keith. Absolutely gorgeous". After about a half hour of quiet contemplation between the two giants, with them carefully playing with Meredith's hands and feet, the nurse walked in, and smiled at the scene in front of her. She quickly examined Meredith, before asking Jennifer whether she'd been expressing. "Oh, yes, absolutely, but why?" "You might find Meredith will be hungry when she wakes up is all", the nurse advised. "Ok, thanks. Hey, Keith, can you hand the nurse those bottles I gave you this morning?" Keith reached into the nappy bag, and pulled out a couple of bottles full of milk, handing them over to the nurse, before throwing the bag at the end of the bed. He sat down on the bed's edge, and started to really examine Meredith's face. As he gently touched her button of a nose, she stirred, letting out a tiny rasp, and a yawn. Her fingers were tightly formed into fists, but occasionally would stir and extend, closing back up again at the slightest touch. He extended his pointer finger as Meredith's hand relaxed, and laid it into her palm. Instinctively, Meredith's fingers curled around it, gripping hard, not letting go. He stifled a giggle. After another yawn, a blue eyeball appeared from behind a tired eyelid, and looked straight at Keith. "Hi there, Meredith", Keith cooed. Well, at least they hadn't changed my name, I thought. The Amazon man studying me had a squarish face, a well formed and groomed beard, Incredibly deep blue eyes that sparkled every time he moved them, with a dark brown mop of hair, combed neatly. Well dressed. He looked a tad nervous, but was smiling and giggling away. Overall demeanour was one of quiet confidence though. My gaze moved to my arm, bent 90 degrees at the elbow, resting comfortably on the woman's chest, and my hand, balled into a fist, gripping the man's finger tightly. Why was I doing that? My brain registered that my fingers only just wrapped around his one finger. More goosebumps. I grunted again, and autonomously began to bury my face into the woman's chest. My tummy started to really grumble at that, and I seemed to instinctively know what I needed at that point in time. My arms and legs started slowly moving, stretching, squirming around. But my fingers hadn't lost grip of the man's outstretched pointer. I lifted my head, and emitted another hoarse little sighing cry. "I think Meredith is after something, Jenn" "Ya, do we wait for the bottles to come back, Keith?" "Try breastfeeding anyway" I was effortlessly moved around by hands and arms from the woman I now knew as Jenn. My mum had a real bear of a time manhandling me, but this woman did it with ease. Either she's far stronger than Mum, or I'm totally ignoring the obvious signs, again. After a few seconds, I was settled and cradled in the woman’s left arm, my head at her elbow, my right arm dangling down below me. I felt something wet brush my mouth and lower lip, and I instinctively opened up, to discover a soft warm nipple pushed in. Closing up my mouth around the nipple after a few attempts, another reflex took over, and I tentatively sucked in a small stream of a warm, milky substance. I was instantly reminded of an amazing creamy vanilla malted milk shake I had at Bellamys once, but that was cold, and this… this was warm, yummy, tasty, and oh so filling. I started to suckle harder, being rewarded with more milk each go. My olfactory senses were flooded with a vanilla caramelly milky smell, which just added to the experience and satisfaction overwhelming me as I continued to nurse. My arms relaxed, my left hand relaxed (and let go of the man’s finger), my legs relaxed, my back muscles relaxed, as I drank in the creamy liquid. Closing my eyes was a done deal at this point, but I instinctively kept on suckling. My brain quietly registered a spreading warmth across my butt. What I thought was an age, but really only about 20 minutes, I’d stopped suckling, mostly asleep at this point, but I felt myself being moved again. Starting to sense serious pains in my stomach, I fidgeted a bit and moaned, as I was brought up to Jenn’s left shoulder, and resting my head over it, my back was pounded rhythmically. That pain grew to the point where I started to moan in complete disapproval, but the pounding on my back continued. She shifted the focus of the pounding down to my lower back, and gradually raised the focus each time she pounded further and further up my back. That strategy worked, as I felt a few bubbles of air and milk rise up my oesophagus, and erupt from my mouth in a resounding burp, followed immediately by a few mls of milk. It was not a pleasant experience. “Oh, you good, good baby girl, Meredith”, Jenn cooed at me. Wait, was I just burped? That thought quickly subsided, as I was laid back down onto my left side, where another wet nipple was offered, and I instinctively latched on, beginning to suck more warm, sweet milk. The stomach slowly filled with the nectar of the woman over time, and I slowed down the suckling. My body was absolutely jelly at this point, and I drifted off to a wonderful deep sleep, completely oblivious to my surroundings, and what the two giants were doing to me. “I think she’s finished” “La la land of milk coma, this one is in”, Jennifer replied, as she relaxed, and prised Meredith off her right breast. “But I think I should burp her, and then probably change her nappy”. With the blanket over her right shoulder, she raised Meredith to lean her head on the blanket, and started to pound her back. The girl didn’t whimper, or raise a sound, until about five minutes later, letting out a burp, a squeaky cry, then completely relaxed like a rag doll fast asleep. “Hey, Keith, can you please get the nappy bag for me?” “Sure”, as he went off and grabbed the nappy bag from the end of the bed. Meredith’s new mum gently laid her against her chest, grabbed the blanket, and spread it out on the bed between her legs. Laying Meredith onto the blanket, she then began to examine the hospitals nappy effort. “Gee, these disposables that the hospital has her in are huge on her, and she’s soaked!” Keith reached into the nappy bag, and passed Jennifer a Huggies size 2 cloth-backed disposable nappy, a plain pink PUL-based nappy cover, a new container of disposable wipes, and a tube of Desitin nappy rash cream. Jenn unfolded the new nappy and put it to one side. Grabbing both of Meredith's ankles with one hand, she lifted them up and pushed them towards Meredith's head, forcing her legs to bend and her knees up to her chest. With her bum in the air, Jenn slid the new nappy underneath the used one, and gently lowered Meredith's legs back to the bed. For that movement, Meredith elicited a little protesting cry, but still stayed asleep. With practiced fingers, the used nappie's tapes were both removed from the front panel. Jenn then grabbed the front panel, and peeled it away from Meredith's chest and abdomen. "Awesome, just wet, no poopies to clean up!”, she mumbled to herself Jenn opened the pack of wipes, pulled a wipe out, and proceeded to give Meredith's abdomen and bum areas a thorough clean. She also took time, using a fresh wipe, to do an inspection of her new baby’s girly bits and bum, making sure everything was in place as expected. Next step was the Desitin. Squeezing a small portion out of the tube onto her fingers, she began methodically spreading the nappy rash barrier cream all over Meredith’s girly bits, bum, bum cheeks, and lower abdomen. Happy that her girl’s tush was covered, she grabbed Meredith’s ankles again, lifted them up, and removed the used nappy, leaving the fresh one behind. It was a quick process to close up the fresh nappy between Meredith’s legs to her abdomen, fastening the two tapes onto the front panel, and adjusting the leg and waist gathers. The PUL nappy cover then was slid under Meredith’s butt, the front panel pulled up between her legs to her abdomen, and the wings wrapped around and fastened using velcro panels. Keith rummaged through the nappy bag again, and pulled out a soft pink footed sleeper, and passed it to Jenn. Within a minute, the sleepy Meredith was coaxed into the legs and arms of the sleeper, and Jenn carefully snapped up the legs and crotch. “All done!”, Jenn announced at the end of the process. “She looks good, Jenn. Very happy with the outcome”. Keith was beaming with pride, after being quite worried they’d made the right decision to transform Meredith. It seemed to have been performed without a hitch. “Can you adjust the bed head for me please, Keith?” After adjusting the bed posture so Jennifer was about 10 degrees off lying flat, she picked up Meredith, and laid her again supine on her chest, left arm resting on and supporting Meredith’s butt, her right very lightly rubbing her back. “Ok, darling, I’m off home, I will see you on the morrow!”. Keith stood up, gave his wife a kiss on the lips, gave the sleeping Meredith a peck on an exposed cheek, picked up the used nappy and wipes, threw them in the biohazard waste bin, and walked out, waving goodbye at the door. The nurse returned with the bottles and a warmer, plugging it into a power point behind Jenn’s head, and placing one of the bottles in it. She took a look at Meredith, then asked Jennifer if she wanted to be covered by the blankets lumped at the foot of the bed. “Oh, yes please!” With a motherly glow about her, and a quiet relaxed sleeping baby on her chest, Jennifer let out a loving sigh, and drifted off for a bit of a nap herself. I stifled a yawn as my senses came alive, opening my eyes to discover I was staring at my knees, with my feet tied together by a massive amazonian hand. I couldn't help but groan, as my legs put pressure on my abdomen. "Oh, sorry baby!", I heard as my legs were laid back down. The woman in front of me I recognised as Jenn, glanced at me and smiled, before she returned to the task of finishing changing what I smelt was a soiled nappy. She spread my knees apart, and pulled up the front panel of a fresh Huggies nappy to my belly button, and expertly taped the wings to the front panel. "Have a nice sleep?", she asked, as she pulled down the crotch flaps of my pink sleeper, and fastened the snaps. Another yawn, and I concluded that I'd just had some of the best sleep in some time. This elicited a stretch of my arms, out towards the giant, who took it as a sign I wanted up. She grabbed my outstretched hands, and sat me up between her legs. My hands were soon balled into fists, resting on my thighs. I started to examine myself, and the woman in front of me. I raised my left forearm a bit, opened my fingers. A tad chubby, not at all my svelte self. My legs and feet were covered in the soft flannel of the sleeper. Movement of my hips and legs invoked slight crinkle sounds emanating from my hidden nappy and PUL cover. I smelt of J&J baby lotion, slight whiffs of Desitin, regurgitated milk, and the lingering after smells of the poopy bum. Stifling yet another yawn, I looked past the Amazon to the window, the scene beyond being dark, with pinpoints of light in the distance. Returning to the Amazon woman in front of me, she was studying me as intently as I her. I looked up into those mesmerising blue eyes. My brain connected the dots. "I'm a baby, aren't I?", I asked. Problem with this question? All I heard was total babyish gibberish sounds emitted from my mouth, with some amount of drooling and dribbling, which prompted a surprised expression flow across my face. Jennifer looked intently at me, face contorted into a frown. ”Can you understand me?", a curious Jenn asked quietly. I thought about this question for a second, then nodded, though fine motor skills made it look like I was just bobbing my head. I tried to point at the window, and called out, "mum!?". More gibberish, but the word was mostly there. I could sense Jenn sigh in response. "No, baby girl", she stated, whilst slowly shaking her head. Looking into the woman's eyes, I could see tears forming, with the odd one eventually subject to gravity, and sliding down her cheek. She pointed to herself, while looking directly at me. "Mum", quietly spoken, but with a pained expression. I frowned at her, giving her a slow shake of my head. I tried pointing again at the window, my left arm wobbling around a bit. Jenn took a leap of faith, as I was obviously attempting to interact on an adult level. "Do you remember what happened to your mum?". Tears were streaming down her face at this point, which was causing me to get a bit upset myself. I could see this woman was hurting emotionally. One part of me was crying out with her, but a few synapses were wondering why I felt like I needed to ease her pain, and why I was following her lead emotionally. I looked around the room, at the glass humidicrib next to the bed. It was tiny, certainly not a size which took a full-grown Little. My mind was in overdrive, and so fuddy-duddy topsy-turvey. Memories were disjointed and fuzzy, but one bubbled to the surface, for a brief moment. I was lying on my side, on a road, looking straight at a woman with legs and arms all akimbo, knee pointing one way, foot another. Her face all bloodied, hair mangled. She was looking directly at me. I remember watching helplessly, as life faded from those eyes. As my face distorted from the memory, growing a shade of red, Jenn sensed I was reliving the moment, so she picked me up and brought me to her chest in a loving embrace. As soon as I was lifted, my emotions let go, and I cried my eyes out. I cried so hard, I sometimes had to fight for breath, coughing and spluttering away. I could sense Jenn letting a few sobs go too, from the way her chest moved. A nurse came in to check on us, but Jenn waved her away. It took a bit of effort to settle down, but I think it was the realisation over time that I actually felt quite safe and secure, warm, and being equally loved and cared for by this woman as that provided by mum. That, and I sorta forgot why I was crying in the first place. As I calmed down, my senses came back. Jenn was tenderly rubbing my back, wiping the tears from my cheeks, and singing gently to me. Once my cries died down, Jenn wiped my face with a cloth. She looked at me with a quizzical, but curious look. "Are you ok now?" I thought about the question for a bit, nodded, but kept sobbing. She reached down to the end of the bed, and rummaged through the nappy bag. After a few seconds, she showed me an NUK pacifier, with a pink guard and purple ribbon with a clasp at one end. "I think this might settle you down, Meredith", she whispered as she offered it to me. I instinctively opened my mouth, and started nursing on it, emitting the odd pop, hmmmphh, squeak. She snapped the clasp over a small loop of fabric on my sleeper. After about another 30 minutes of cuddling into Jenn, nursing on the pacifier, a cheek resting on her chest, her chin resting on the crown of my head, being shielded by her warm hugs, and suffering the odd kiss on the forehead or a cheek, I'd calmed right down. Taking the time to introspectively think about my situation, I came to the conclusion that this Jenn and her husband Keith were good people. They seemed to have transformed me somehow, but otherwise I was safe, and being cared for appropriately. Well, maybe too appropriately, as most Littles were heavily babied by their Amazon parents, and sometimes heavily punished. If I was safe, and being cared for, I could live with that for the moment, until I could work out how to contact Stowe, and get him to rescue me. She sat me back between her legs, facing her once more. Putting her hand against her chest, she quietly stated to me, "Baby darling, I am Jennifer Bradley. I'm your new mummy, ok?", emitting a few tears at that question. She poked at my belly, "And you are Meredith Louise Bradley, and I've fallen madly deeply in love with you, Meredith baby. Ok?". More tears. I sat and thought for a few seconds, concluding that yes, I can do this, so I reached out to her, and squealed out, "Mum!!”. "That's right, my beautiful baby girl!", she cooed, as she pulled me up once more to her chest, to give some wonderfully warm loving hugs and lots of kisses. Stowe sat on the couch in Meredith’s office in the very quiet HH&S office suite, contemplating life, the universe, and everything else. In his right hand was a fresh glass of scotch on the rocks, and his left a photo of Mrs Henderson. His world had been ripped apart in one crazy minute, with his motherly employer dead, and the Little love of his life missing. He was kicking himself that he’d left the scene, chasing after the car. Why did he always have to see red when shit like that happened, why on earth didn’t he stay back to support Mum and Meredith? Stowe, you’re a bloody idiot at times, sheesh! Taking a sip of the scotch, he looked up towards Meredith’s empty desk chair, silently wondering whether he’d ever see her again, whether she’d ever fill that chair again. A wave of melancholy overcame him, and the quietness of the office was interrupted by a few quiet sobs, some hot tears rolling down his face. Another sip of the sweet woody tasting scotch, and he looked at the photo of Mrs H. Her funeral was that morning. Meredith never appeared, even though HH&S advertised the funeral in all the papers and online sites. Enquiries at all three city hospitals yielded nothing as to her whereabouts. Privacy laws precluded them from telling him anyway whether a person (even a Little) called Meredith Henderson had been admitted. For all his investigative prowess, he’d come up empty handed, bar the glass of scotch. Fuck sake, man, get your shit together, you need to find Meredith, and deal with that stupid driver! After downing the remnants of the scotch, Stowe opened the cupboard near Meredith’s desk, pulled out his pistol, racked the slide, placed it in his shoulder holster, and walked out of the HH&S office suite, turning off the lights, and closing the suite up behind him. He at least knew where to start looking.
  3. Hiyas - I'm looking for a story called "Making the most of it", which is a Diaper Dimension tale. The thread is here in DD, but it was ravaged by the database corruption, and is now no more. Anyone have a copy of it? Thanks!
  4. The plastic oxygen masks they put over your mouth and nose do deliver 100% pure oxygen. However, the rate that O2 is delivered is only a couple of litres/minute or so, and the masks typically have a few holes in them, which allows for the inhalation of surrounding air (the hydrogen/Co2/etc), and also allows for the exhaled air to be ejected back into surrounding air. Ventilators may or may not deliver 100% pure oxygen. My mum was in ICU for a while many years back, which sorta prompted the scene in Chapter 1. When we got mum home, she was on bottled oxygen, at really low flows. It was medical-grade O2. We soon replaced the bottled O2 with an accumulator(?) system (a big box which sat in one corner of the bedroom, sucking in air), which took the 02 out of surrounding air, and fed it in low doses through nasal prongs. I spent a good amount of time debating internally whether to add such cursing/swearing/f-words. In the end, I'd believe that bad guys would swear/f-bomb/carry on far more than the good guys. It's all in context though. Meredith might think about swearing to accentuate a point, but at the moment, verbalising those words might not be possible *hint* Stowe, well, he's an SF dude, and they drop f-bombs as fast as machine-gun bullets :-) Stowe's not really got such a potty mouth. Thanks for your comments too, very much appreciated.
  5. This is my first ever story about anything, really, so please be gentle with me, and my writing. I've fallen in love with the Diaper Dimension universe, and after reading a number of tales, thought I'd have a go at my own little story. Comments and criticism is absolutely welcome. I'm hoping to stay the course - I have a plan of where the story is going. I hope that my readers get shocked, get mad, get cuddled, and hopefully also shed a few tears. So, with out further ado, I give to you, a story about Meredith Henderson, a Little, and a Littles Broker in the Diaper Dimension.... ## Meredith - A Littles Broker in the Diaper Dimension - Prologue "Henderson, Henderson, and Stowe, how may I help you?", the receptionist answered into the phone with a tone of voice that belied the many thousands of times she'd spoken that same phrase before. After listening to the caller's initial request, a slightly more interested voice is emitted, "I can hardly hear you, hold on a sec, ... hold on will you! Slow down! .. yes, yes ...", furiously taking notes, "of course we do, I'll see if Miss Henderson is available". "Meredith!", comes a scream from outside my office. I'm buried in paperwork, and really not interested in talking to anyone right now. My desk is awash with scribbled notes on brightly coloured legal pads, printouts, paper forms, a few scattered law books. There's a desk phone here somewhere too. Forget about finding the computer keyboard, it's totally buried under all the crap. "Meredith!" "What?!", I exasperatedly respond, banging my fist on the table, which causes a ripple effect across the papers and books, eventually bumping the hidden keyboard to awaken the dark PC monitor from its slumber, itself precariously perched on a corner of the desk. "Line 1, sounds urgent", came the reply from outside my door. I look up from my work to view the rest of my surroundings. My office was large by my standards , but felt enclosed to an Amazonian. Suited me fine. It had everything I needed to conduct business. Neat walls, covered in Certificates, a few University degrees, some photos of happy times, a wall clock which emits an annoyingly loud ticking sound, and one large painting. There were a few single chairs in front of the desk for my visitors, a bookcase with lots of books and a few of my favourite nappies (strategically placed so curious Amazons could see), and a large battered sofa in a corner, which was often filled by a hulking great Amazon. I acquired an awesome high backed executive chair my own size, extremely rare in this Dimension, fairly expensive too, but the end result more than made up for the cost. It was in proportion to my physique, so when I had visitors, the fact I was a Little was often ignored. I wasn't a small body hidden within a giant object, which would be like a red rag to a bull for Giants, likely leading to ridicule of the Litte hidden in the chair. Outwardly, I looked like a professional Lawyer/Littles Broker, my formal office attire accentuated my looks, and exuded comfortable wealth, my office added to that effect, and my Uni degrees on the wall stated in no uncertain terms that I knew what I was doing. Amazonians sought my company, my consult, my advice. Also quite a rare phenomenon in this dimension, but because i was trafficking in the goods they wanted, they were quite willing to overlook the fact that I was dealing in my own kind. Our company motto was, after all, "you find them, we hide them" I had standards though. I didn't deal in misery. I wanted to make sure the objects of my work didn't suffer, and were safe from harm. However, even I admitted, once they were out of our sphere of influence, I had no way of helping them if the shit did hit the proverbial. Well, that's not quite correct. I made sure my work product and deliverables were airtight, legally. My reputation, and the Firm's reputation and survival, were underpinned by that fact - Littles found it difficult to extract themselves from the relationship we set up for them with their Amazonian parentage, and the giants loved us because we only traded good, healthy stock. Littles also found a (hopefully) loving family (if we'd done our work properly), one which they could trust. With the right paperwork, everyone parted ways happy and, of course, our HH&S bank account emerged just that wee bit richer. Most jobs only required a deft touch with pen and paper (and maybe a few key presses onto a website or two), and a few rubber stamps, but there were always the odd ones from time to time which required the metaphorical hammer approach, or maybe the actual silent assassin approach. For those odd jobs, Mum and I hired Stowe. He goes only by that name (I don't think he's ever told me his first name, actually, thinking about it now). He always loved his Little Meredith talking tough to him, or practicing her swooning tactics on him, or her attempts at seduction. "Stowe! Are you mind fucking my daughter again?", I d often hear from across the hallway. "No, ma'am!" All Stowe had to do was stand in the door to my office, and I'd be jelly, incapable of returning to my work until he left, or sat down on the couch in my office reading a report. And sometimes, Id never even notice he'd be there, until I'd sense a "presence", look up from my work, and see his giant square chiselled face, deep in thought, or with an outrageously mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "I so wish I was a giant, I'd absolutely do you right now", I'd tell him matter-of-factly. With a massively deep belly laugh, he'd simply wink and walk away, "come get in my belly, little girl", he'd be saying - always drove me crazy. He was a hulking great Amazon man. Rippling muscles, exuding a very manly "don't fuck with me" attitude and look, honed over many years in Special Forces teams. With a long gun strapped across his back, pistol hanging off his right thigh, war paint on his square face, boonie hat and cammies, webbing, and combat boots, him standing with feet shoulder width apart, right hand tantalisingly poised over his pistol as if to quick-draw, his photo on my desk was enough to give me all the warm and fuzzies I needed, for the times I'd be missing him, and needing some security. Curiously, his nameplate on his cammies was just a number. I asked him one day about it, not long after he handed it to me (framed and all). It was his service number (6510029). No one in the SF were outwardly identified by name - security he said. Weird. Studying the photo, I could also see a gentle giant, a true gentleman at heart. His eyes exuded confidence, but also a touch of admiration for those around him, his team, his mates, his family. Mum and I, we were his family. Mum discovered him one day on the street. She was off to an orphanage, and found him fighting a bunch of Amazonian thugs who were dragging a poor Little down the footpath. As mum approached, phone in hand yelling that she'd called the cops, a thug whipped out a knife, stabbed a distracted Stowe multiple times in the arm, turned tail, and ran off with the others. When the cops arrived, they arrested and started to blame Stowe for the Little's injuries, but mum set the record straight, and escorted a bleeding-like-a-stuffed-pig Stowe and the badly beaten Little to hospital for treatment. Stowe, being unemployed and living on the street after being dumped by the SF for being beyond his prime, was eternally grateful to her for saving him, and fixing the hospital bill. She offered him a room at our house, which was where he met me for the first time. She gave him an ultimatum though - get to work, or get out. Mum never tolerated freeloaders, but in him, she could sense something different, something great. He took the opportunity to do something new with his life, studied for an Investigations diploma, got his PI ticket, and learnt a lot of stuff about doing jobs the old-fashioned legal way, and the oh-so-subtle illegal way. We employed him as our Private Investigator, and I loved his company. Protection at law, and at gun, I could do anything with him around. Nobody could fuck with me. Today though, his presence was not felt, not heard, not seen. The couch was empty. I reached out for the phone, punched a flashing light, and spoke into the very old-school handset, tucked between my shoulder and ear. "Meredith Henderson here", I stated. "Hello, can you hear me?", a very quiet voice responded, with a sense of urgency, and a dollop of upper-class, which prompted a raised eyebrow, and slightly raised heartbeat. "I don't have much time. " "Yes I can hear you, so what's up?", impatience welling up inside me. "Do you remember the Stonegate murders?", the voice whispered. I stopped fidgeting, and looked at the photo on my desk. Stonegate was a rather large successful company which manufactured and managed the inter-Dimensional portals. Because they were at all the ports, Stonegate demanded a fee for every traveller using them. One would normally not hear about a company like this, unless one was a frequent flyer across inter-Dimensional space. But about three month ago things changed, and Stonegate Inc was thrust into the news, first page even. The CEO and Chairman of the company, William Stone, was charged with corruption, for attempting to buy off the port authorities after another company tried to push into the interDimensional portal business. The product was quite superior to the Stonegate product, so Mr Stone panicked. Stonegate's share price tanked. Money talks to Amazons, so the port officials in charge of procurement accepted a heaping wad of cash from Stonegate. Unbeknownst to all, some photos of the deal landed on the Federal Attorneys & Prosecutors desk not long after, and Mr Stone was done for. Stone reacted by sending a goon off to a business meeting Stone had arranged with the other company CEO. The goon was to make it all look like a random hit - Stone called the meeting as a peace offering. Stone walked away from that noisy and bloody meeting battered and bruised after being bitch-slapped with a pistol, the other CEO having lost his life, as well as approximately $417 in change. The hit was supposed to be disguised as just a stupid street robbery gone wrong. So much for having a quiet meeting in a cafe. What Stone failed to realise though, a significant shareholder in that company was none other than the Ramon Family, long-suspected of being members of a feared interDimensional mafia syndicate. Don Ramon took offence to having his hand-picked CEO gunned down, so he went after Stone in the most brutal way possible - attacking Stone's family. In one crazed night of horrific violence, Stone was beaten and tortured to within an inch of death in front of his beloved family. He freely admitted in the end to his role in the murder, whereupon Don Ramon selected each of the family members in turn, marched them at gunpoint to stand in front of Stone, who was tied to a chair, breathing heavily, one eye closed from swelling and bruising, matted hair everywhere, and caked in blood and sweat. "Say goodbye to this one, Mr Stone!", Don Ramon would say, before squeezing the trigger, and sending brain matter, blood, and bone fragments all over Stone. "I was there," the voice quietly stated. I could hear almost silent sobbing, and could only imagine the tears flowing. "How? The Stone family were all shot dead", I pointed out. "Not me, I was taken as a hostage". I looked up as my secretary walked in with a piece of paper - "call trace has started" plus some details. I nodded and she disappeared back to the main foyer. "So, who are you?", I queried, slightly confused "I'm Michael Stone, and I was adopted into the family a few years ago." "You're a Little? I didn't know Mr Stone had a Little." "Yes, I am, and I'm now also the heir to the Stone family Estate". I sat up at that bit of news. "I need to be extracted from this situation, so you need to get me out of here!", Michael pleaded with me, with a panicked tone of voice. "Ok, we may be able to extract you, but the price for this kind of job is not cheap" "Aren't you listening to me?" "Yes, you're Michael Stone. Tell me, why are they keeping you alive?" I heard a frustrated groan through my handset. "He's using me to go after the Stone Estate fortune. He wants me to sign over the Estate, by the end of the week..." Which gives us four days to plan and execute the snatch, I thought to myself "... or else I'm toast." "Doesn't give us much time. Risk goes up, price goes up", I openly mused. "I'm at the Ramon Family home, if that's any consolation. " "I don't know where that ...", and was interrupted. An instant message popped up on my computer monitor, "trace completed". "Ok, sit tight, keep hiding, and we'll come get you, likely Friday. We know where you are. " "I won't ask how you know where I am" "Everglades Hills", was my response, after reading the message on my screen. Inwardly, I was scared for Michael, and for Stowe, who'd have to go in and do the snatch. "Yes, that sounds familiar. There's lots of goons around. They keep me locked up in a room upstairs all night, but I've managed to pick the locks on the windows, and can slink around the house undetected." "Umm, what phone are you using?", I enquired, after looking at the trace details in the instant message. The phone number wasn't a Ramon number. "Oh, I stole one of the goons mobiles. The guy's as thick as two bricks, so he'll never find it". After a quick chat about the finances (HH&S were to be quite rightly paid for such a high-risk service), we hung up. "Mum! I've got a hot extract Job for Stowe! Where is he?", I yelled, completely ignoring the option of using instant messenger - I still hadn't spied my keyboard. Next minute, mum walked into my office. She was a typical 50-odd year old Amazonian working mother, constantly on the go doing sales meetings, organising adoptions, attending Littles adoption markets, all the while being a fair and rounded mum to Little me. She was a disciplinarian when I was younger, which I hated, but at the end of the day, I turned out ok for the experience. She was an awesome Amazonian mum to a Little. "What's going on?", she questioned, whilst sitting down into one of the chairs at my desk. I told her the story of Michael Stone, a Little needing extraction from the Mafia. She cringed at that bit of news. So I told her the price Michael and I agreed to. To sweeten the deal, I added expenses paid too. Mum finally relented, and gave me approval to proceed. "Brief Stowe", she commanded, finally, as she stood up and started walking to the door. "I'll start looking for a safe family to hide him in". "Awesome, ok". My excitement was growing - I was about to unleash the silent assassin. After mum left, I was right back on the phone, contacting Stowe. After a quick chat about the situation, Stowe came bounding through my door about an hour later. "Michael's at Don Ramon's residence in Everglades", I briefed him. Stowe took notes, as I told him all the details we had gleaned to date. I added the GPS coordinates of the phone we tracked, wherin Stowe dug out his tablet PC and looked it up on a map. "Hmm... ". He was lost in thought for a long while, obviously looking at the contours and terrain features of his approach to the residence. Prodding and poking at his tablet screen, flicking around maps and satellite images, He looked at me suddenly, with a dead serious face, "... do you want in?" "What, as spotter? Sure, so long as I don't have to go in there with you", I replied with some trepidation. I was occasionally offered the role of spotter for Stowe, and enjoyed those intimate and dangerous moments with him. To tell the truth, I got a kick out of watching Stowe slot someone at long distance. "Yup, I want you on this cliff here", and pointed out a sweet location on the map for me to set up an overwatch position. "Yeah, I can get there, no worries, but when?" "Tonight" At about 11pm, I was dressed from head to toe in black, a black hoodie, black balaclava, radio headset on, black gloves, black cargo pants, and black combat boots. No gun. Usual white disposable nappy, but a dark cammie-print nappy cover (present from Stowe), to really get in the mood. A svelte lass, dolled up in black, ready to do business. I was also quite dirty, as the ledge I was lying prone on was covered in muddy dirt, pebbles, moss, and dead leaf matter. I'd selected a shelf of rock, under the main ledge, so as not to silhouette my outline against the blackish starry night sky - Stowe was a great teacher in the dark art of stalking. It was a beautiful night, lots of light with which to work to. Although I had a pair of night-vision binoculars up to my eyes, intensely scanning the scene below me, I could not see Stowe, could not discern movement, bar some guards wandering around the perimeter of the Ramon compound, which was dimly lit. "I'm counting about 6 guards, four in each corner of the compound, two roaming inside the perimeter. Wait one...", whispering into the mic. "Ok, copy", was the silent response. Stowe was not close enough to the compound, otherwise I would have heard just a click of his mic as an Ok. "Yeah, one guard on the first floor. I also see movement inside the one lit window on the second floor." Click, in return. I moved my binocular vision to the wall facing me, as I noticed movement. It was Stowe. I also didn't fail to notice the guard moving on the other side of the wall. "Danger close, other side of the wall!" Click, in response. About ten second later, Stowe took a peek, and soon after climbed over the wall, and I noticed the guard suddenly but slowly sink down to his knees, hands to his throat. I watched as the guy desperately tried to stem gushing fluid from a slashing knife wound, but ultimately fail, and collapsed completely as his life ebbed away through the grass. Stowe quickly dragged the lifeless body to the shadows of the main house, stashing it behind a bush. Looking around for a way in, Stowe found and slowly climbed up a downpipe to the second storey, and peered into a black window. It was open, unlocked, and that was the last I saw of him, sliding like a cat silently through the orifice. "We're supposed to be reconning the place, Stowe, not actually doing the rescue", I quietly pointed out. "All good, no rest for the wicked", he replied, with an distinctly silent yet well-practiced voice. Complete silence on the radio for about 10 minutes, then a sudden but quiet "we're coming out!" announcement. "Roger, I'm seeing no alarm from any of the guards. They're not missing the one you took". Click. Stowe emerged from a door at ground level, facing out towards the same wall he jumped over earlier. I could see he had what looked to be a sack over his shoulder. Click, click, click. Update time, "Ok, no guards moving along your wall. Guards in the corners are looking out to the main road" Click. I saw Stowe quickly look around out through the door, then make his way to the wall, wherein the sack came alive, and he helped it up onto the top of the wall. The sack laid down along the top of the wall, Stowe jumped effortlessly over it, then helped the sack jump down off it, then both disappeared into the brush. "See you in the car park!" I heard over the radio, and our night was almost over, one enemy dead, one Little extracted. As I walked towards Stowe's battle truck (It was just a lowly van, beaten, bruised, rusted), I noticed Michael for the first time. "Michael, how are you?", I enquired. "Pretty good - he's insane though!", Michael responded excitedly, pointing to Stowe, who was taking a swig of water from a container. Michael looked around for a second, but started acting quite alarmed, vigorously checking his pockets. "Shit!" "What?". Stowe looked up at that comment. "The phone, I've left the mobile phone behind!" In my tired consciousness, I didn't grasp the significance. "What the FUCK do you mean he's not here!". Don Ramon stood behind his desk, face red with anger, eyes bulging, fists clenched in front of him. "He's not here, Boss, we've turned the whole house upside down!" "He was in his room last night, yes?" "Yes, Boss" "Then FIND HIM!" The Head of Security walked out of Ramon's office back to his own little room in the basement, wherein he found one of his goons standing near his desk. "Sir, you wanted me?" "Yes, sit down". The goon meekly sat on a chair in from of the HoS' desk with a shiver of nerves. "You were uncontactable last night, why?" "Umm... I... I...I lost my phone, sir" "When?" "Umm, I think about three days ago" "And when did you last see it?" "In the lunch room, I think" The HoS suddenly stood up and walked out of his little office, leaving a bewildered goon behind. Walking up to the lunch room on the first floor, he looked around for a few minutes, wondering where a phone might be hidden, then a thought occurred to him. Retrieving his own phone from a pocket, he looked up the goon's name, and dialled his number, which end up ringing. At the same time, he heard a very faint noise upstairs. Walking upstairs, he dialed the number again. Following the noise, he walked straight into Michael's room, and quickly located the stolen phone in a wardrobe. Bingo. Walking back down to the basement office, he threw the mobile onto his desk, which surprised the hell out of the goon. "Thanks Boss" "Before you say another bloody word, you'll be responsible now for finding that Little! Got it!?" The HoS picked up the guard's phone, examined the call history, and quizzically stared at the number last dialled. Looked slightly familiar. He rang it. "Henderson, Henderson & Stowe, how may I help you?" "Sorry, wrong phone number, I apologise" The goon watched as his boss put down the phone, wrote something on a piece of paper, and threw it across the desk. "... and you can start there!" "My phone?", the guard tentatively asked, whilst reaching for his phone. "FUCK OFF!", the HoS yelled, arm outstretched, pointed at the door. "Ring me when you find them!" "How? You have my phone, Boss!" "Idiot, that's what payphones are for! Fuck!" The HH&S office was rather silent for a while, apart from the click-click-clickety-click of typing. I could almost hear the methodical tick-tick-tick of the clock on my wall. Looking up from my own keyboard (I'd never quite been able to get the hang of touch-typing), I noticed even Stowe was banging away with his fists of fingers on his laptop keys, probably typing up his after-action report on Michael Stone's rescue. We always produced those reports, for total transparency in case someone asked. I sat watching him for a good couple of minutes before my focus was broken by the unmistakable sound of someone opening the office's front door and stepping into the reception area. Every time that damn door opened, a little bell above the door tinkled, and my concentration would disappear for a few seconds. A few quiet mumbles between the receptionist and someone with a deep commanding voice, and things went quiet once more. The morning was marching on, and I was hankering for a coffee and a snack from up the Mall. Toasted cheese sandwich, butter on the outside, I thought. I noticed the visitor walk past my office door. He was a giant, very smartly dressed, tall even by Amazonian standards, fit looking too. He followed our receptionist into Mum's office. As she came back past my door, I mouthed a "who's that?" at her. "New client", she whispered. Stowe looked up from his laptop. We all went back to work. About 40 minutes later, I noticed line 20 on my phone begin to flash. Immediately I whistled to Stowe, and mouthed a "Mum's in trouble" warning to him. He's a hulking great brute, but he sprung up off the couch like an athlete, walked across my office to a cupboard, and retrieved his pistol, racking the slide, and cautiously exited my office towards Mums. He knocked on the door, opened it, and was confronted with the guest pointing at Mum, anger written all over him. "You have one day to retrieve Michael, or you're in a shit ton of hurt, lady!" Stowe stepped into the office, pistol hidden behind his back, but the guest seemed to know exactly what was going on. Stowe openly wondered if the guy was a proper gangster. "Oh, a tough guy?", the guest trolled, whilst looking towards Stowe, sizing him up. "Out. Your time is up, sir", Stowe commanded. Stowe stepped aside as the guest turned around, threw his hands in the air, and stormed out. The little door bell on the front door didn't make a sound as it was forcibly ripped out of the door jamb, and fell to the floor, making a final little tinkle of doom. It took Stowe and I a while to calm Mum down enough to get her to tell us who the guy was. He'd introduced himself as John Stockton, and initially started asking about the work HH&S could do. After about 30 minutes of general chit chat, Mum was led to believe that Mr Stockton was looking for a Little to be rescued. When he started asking about Michael Stone, Mum quietly hit the panic button (line 20 on the phone system), with the guy finally outright threatening Mum. "He's got to be a goon for Don Ramon", Stowe surmised. "Yes. Obviously a fake name. So how are we going to handle the Ramon Family issue?", Mum queried, looking piercingly to Stowe and I, looking for answers. "How th hell did they even trace Michael's disappearance to us?" I had no idea, as I was being distracted by a feeling of increasing famishness. I needed food! "Ok, executive decision time, lets retire to Bellamys for coffee and discuss this". Its funny how slow time moves during a life-and-death situation. As I took my first step off the kerb walking towards Bellamys for coffee, I was struck by a fast-moving car. The bonnet brushed across the front of my legs, my body's momentum causing me to begin falling forward, whereupon my head struck the windscreen, and I was soon tumbling diagonally over the car, legs and arms flying, my body acting like a rag doll, hitting my luckless head once more on the road pavement. The car travelled about two metres forward, and struck Mum clean across the hips as she turned to see me striking the windscreen. She took the full force, denting the bonnet as she crashed onto it, and cracked the windscreen from impact with her shoulders and head. Being much heavier than I, she didn't tumble over the top of the car. The driver hit the brakes in that instant, which caused the car to skid to a stop, forcing Mum's damaged body to roll off the front of the car, landing heavily on the road, lying prone, bleeding profusely. The driver then hit the gas, running clear over Mum, crushing bones, ribs, organs. Stowe was about 1m behind us, so wasn't hit. He was too shocked and angered by the drivers actions that he immediately ran off in a vain hope of catching (and possibly murdering) the driver. As I lay on the road drifting in and out of consciousness, I was smothered in a huge hug from an Amazonian woman who raced over to me. "Are you ok?", the lady urgently asked. "I ... hurtttt ", I weakly replied. "What's your name?" "Meredithhhh .... Hend...", I began to respond, but was quickly fading away. "It's ok, you're ok, I've got you, you're safe now", I was quietly assured by the woman. In my highly confused and pained state, I believed her. "Ok, Mummy ", I quietly stated, as I fainted, succumbing to my injuries and the dark unconsciousness. Chapter 1 - Awakenings My eyes slowly opened to a scene of almost pure white. I could see a light, rectangular in shape, directly above me. It was bright, so I could discern little detail. It's edges were hazy, the fluorescent bulbs too diffuse and blurry. Am I dead? Is this it? Am I seeing the "light"? What the hell has happened to me? Where am I? A shadow passed slowly across the edge of the light, disappeared for a second. A much brighter pinpoint of light suddenly appeared in my left eye, flicked away, came back. I blinked. The pinpoint of light persisted, and flicked across my right eye. I blinked again. I tried to move my body, arms, legs, but I could feel no movement in my limbs, and there was no shift in position of the overhead light. Hmmm…. I could think of no reason why I was feeling so paralyzed, foggy, so tired. Do I close my eyes, and hope this is just a dream? BONG! Oh, ok, my hearing is returning to the land of the living, at least. That's a start! Pip . . . . Pip . . . . Pip . . . . What were those noises? Muffled sounds of people in the distance, speaking of what, I couldn't discern. My interest shifts back to my body. A command from my semi-conscious self to move fingers returns success, maybe, the answer to my question a bit diffuse, garbled through the narcotic haze. So tell me, Missy brain, did my fingers move, or not? I'd really like to know, you know!? I try to lift my head, but it takes too much effort, I have no energy, and a dull ache results. More weird sounds, a wheeze, a pop, some watery gurgling. I feel something in my mouth, so strange a sensation… I can't close my mouth, it's blocked and forced open by this object, and I can't lift my arms to investigate this intrusion! Pip.. pip.. pip.. BONG! Pip.. pip.. pip.. pip.. My heart starts racing, panic rising, as I realise I'm totally out of control of my situation. Oh shit! The shadow reappears, moves across my left side, fidgets for a bit, then leans over me, obscuring the light from above. What looks to be a little wand appears, which is emitting a weird sound. It finds its way into my mouth, where it begins to extract the mucous I can't seem to swallow. After a few moments, it's withdrawn, the noise stops, and the shadow disappears. The shadow returns to my left side, and I begin to discern features, Amazonian features. “Hello, can you hear me?”, the Amazon queries softly. A high Feminine voice. How do I communicate? I can't move my limbs, I can't talk, how to communicate a response? I know! I blinked. “Excellent! I want you to calm down now, ok?” I don't know how to answer that - I'm discovering more and more the situation I’m in of which I can't work out, and am fast approaching the point of totally freaking out, so how to calm down? "Meredith, you need to calm down", the Amazon said gently, but with a bit more authority. I felt something touch my right hand. I tried to swallow, but that thing in my mouth extended down my throat. It took a breath for me - I could feel my lungs expand, as slightly heated and humidified air was forced into them. Sweet, sweet oxygen. My brain started to connect dots. I'm alive! Hello, but what the actual hell happened to me, to cause this much strife, that a machine seems to be breathing for me? I closed my eyes slowly, to think more clearly, and fighting the urge to comfortably slip back into the dark unconsciousness. "Good, good, Meredith, you're doing ok" The Amazon disappeared from view, and started to fidget with something, pressing buttons, and typing on a keyboard. In the distance, maybe behind me, I could hear some quiet music playing. Soothing music, maybe a popular pop song? So I locked my focus onto it. As the song came to a close, I heard an announcement. Ok, that thing is a radio, perhaps? "... news coming up in about five minutes time..." A wave of narcotic-induced fog, nausea, a sense of complete imbalance and dizziness started to hit me, and I found it quite hard to remain awake, and focused. "... it's Friday 5pm, almost the weekend peeps, and time now for the news.", the radio announced, matter-of-factly. "Parliament today has voted to hold an inquiry on legislation passed late last year, which has snared thousands of Littles into forced adoptions, causing utter chaos for relations with the Little People. The inquiry will determine whether the legislation should be amended or repealed, after the interDimensional-UN raised objections to...", the voice droned. A synapse inside my drug-hazed foggy brain suggested that I maybe should have had an interest in that piece of news, but it seemingly slipped through the memory banks, in one ear, out the other. "... update on that terrible accident in the city centre two days ago which caused the death of a woman after it appears she was deliberately run over by a car. Police have arrested and charged a man with dangerous driving causing death..." Hmmm... death is always a sad thing to happen to someone, but to be deliberately run over though is ... hmm... A synapse did fire, but I was too fogged up to decipher its meaning. "... representations have been made to the UN regarding a proposed football match between the Sandown Giants, and the Liverpool Littles team ..." Hope the Giants kick their asses, if they get the Visas necessary from the UN to travel inter-dimensionally - I could help with that! Must get HH&S onto … Too much excitement and mental activity, and I was whacked by increasingly intense waves of dizziness and nausea sensations, so I couldn't help but succumb to the dark unconsciousness that I'd been fighting to stay away from. As I slipped away I sensed another presence in the room. "Nurse, is she ok?", that presence quietly asked, but with a touch of real concern. "Mrs Bradley, she's fine. We're slowly weaning her off the sedation medication, so her waking up is a good sign!", the nurse reassured her, before returning to her fidgeting with medication pumps, and the vitals monitor. "Will Meredith be ready for her procedure?" "Oh, yes, absolutely" "When?" "Couple of days, maybe. Really depends on her recovery from her injuries, her head especially, and approvals from the surgeons. They’ll assess her in a couple of days.“ "Right". Mrs Bradley went back to worrying about Little me, holding my right hand, stroking my very fine, long, fair blonde hair, which was still flecked with blood stains from the stitched-up head wound. Her hand was twice the size of my right hand, yet her embrace was so soft and tender, I could barely feel it. As she later brushed across my head with a finger, I felt pain flood me, causing my eyes to open and stare at the bright light, again. I could sense movement around me. As I tried to take notice of my surrounds, having no sense of time of how long I was asleep, I was startled when grabbed by my right shoulder and leg, and rolled onto my left side, facing someone who leant right over me, my head and chest covered by their work clothes. I could smell their body odour - unmistakably an Amazonian female - a nurse perhaps? Moist warm sponges were rubbed up and down my back, over my bum, in my butt crack, and in and around my girlie parts and abdomen. That's when I heard the crinkle of something being unfolded and placed on the bed behind me. What seemed only a few seconds later I was rolled back onto my back. The person who sponged me down used a cloth to wipe some cream all over my girly bits, in between my legs, my butt, and lower abdomen. Forcing my legs apart, my nether region was carefully encased in a fluffy cocoon of a thick disposable nappy, taped up reasonably tightly, leg gathers checked and adjusted. As I was moved about, I felt pain shoot around my body, my arms, my legs, my head especially. Another warm, wet, cloth was used to carefully scrub my face, my arms, my chest, and my hands. It felt good to be cleaned up so thoroughly, so I revelled in the help and gentle care I was receiving from this person. A couple of warm blankets were draped over me with the edges tucked into the bed mattress, and I soon settled, and was lost once more to the dark unconsciousness. Jennifer Bradley's phone started to vibrate in her handbag, so she reached into the bag blindly, and retrieved it. Unlocking with a finger print, a message appeared, from a source called "Husband". [Husband] How's Meredith? She looked across at the sleeping Little, and started to type her reply [Jenn] She's good, just had a wash and her nappy changed, actually. Is still fairly out of it, but they're weaning her off the sedation now. Her injuries are healing. The Doc says she lost a lot of blood from her head wound, but that's stopped now. He also says she should be good for NAP soon. [Husband] Ok, have spoken with the bank, they've agreed to our request for a loan against the house. I'm going back there shortly with the title info, so they can arrange to settle the funds with NAP. [Jenn] Sweet, that's great! Love your work! [Husband] You just look after our Meredith, ok. Love you, Jennifer! [Jenn] <3 n hugs - XOX -Jenn Jennifer looked thoughtfully back at Meredith, who looked quite peaceful and at rest, if one could be at rest with all those wires and tubes and bandages, and all the associated bongs and peeps associated with machines keeping one alive. She couldn't help but wonder whether she was doing the right thing by Meredith. Thinking about the option of NAP started not long after Meredith arrived at the Hospital . While Meredith was being prepped for theatre, a doctor took Jennifer into a conference room, and started asking some very interesting questions. "Who is this girl?" "Meredith I heard her say, before she passed out" "Do you know her last name?" "No, she never told me. Does that matter?" "Not really. You're in luck though." "Oh, why?" "We found an adoption chip in the girl. Her mother was killed today in the accident." "The lady killed was Meredith’s mum?" "Yes, seems so” “Oh, my goodness”, Jennifer was visibly taken aback from that piece of news. She sat down in a chair, and put her head in her hands, letting out a few quiet sobs. “No matter though”, the doctor continued, “adoption status dies when the last parent dies, so you're free to adopt umm... Meredith, if you like". Mum never got around to adding Stowe as a "parent" on my chip, so... here we are. "I'd love to adopt her, though I need to confer with my husband”, she advised, looking up at the doctor in front of her. "Excellent, I will get some papers for you to sign, and we can re-program the adoption chip. Now, have you heard about the NAP?" "No, what is it?" "Nano Adaptation Procedure, can be quite expensive, but it's possible to make modifications to Little people, to suit your lifestyle." "Oh, really?" "You don't need to make a decision right now, I'll ask Reception to hand you some info on the process to apply for NAP for your child". Jennifer spent quite some time doing research on the NAP process, and the possible changes that could be done to her new child. Sitting down that night with Keith, her husband, they both went through the myriad options, reviewing ones that they thought would align with their expectations for Meredith, and her new role within the Bradley Family. "Meredith Louise Bradley". Mum never gave me a middle name… Jenn spoke those three words to her husband, looking into his deep blue and very bright eyes, which always seemed to glint and sparkle from reflected lights. She had to dab at her own eyes with a handkerchief, wiping off the odd tear that would magically appear when thinking about her new little girl. Jennifer's eyes were already red from crying for far too long. The past few days had been quite stressful and sorrowful, mourning for poor Meredith's loss of her adoptive mother, the mothers terrible death, and for Meredith's injuries, but also feeling overjoyed happiness at gaining a new family member - a third go at motherhood. Finally they both sat down at the computer in Keith's home office, to begin the application process. She looked at the computer screen, which was demanding answers to a set of very sobering questions, so after consulting with her partner, entered in the answers > **NAME:** Meredith Louise Bradley > **AGE:** 9 months > **WARNING: Soul will be regressed to age < 1 year old. Do you wish to proceed <Y/N>?** Y > **OPTIONAL: Do you wish for body to match soul age? <Y/N>** Y > **WARNING: Physical body attributes will be regressed in size and shape to match selected age. Risks include possible physical stress, mental retardation, body deformities, possible death to subject during procedure.** > **Do you wish to proceed? <Y/N>** Y > **OPTIONAL: With age < 1 year old, do you wish to add Baby Brain? Feature includes changes to emotion states, mental capacity, attachment to objects / persons, bladder/bowel control, fine and coarse motor skills. Do you wish to proceed <Y/N>?** Y The questions kept coming. Over several hours, and a number of arguments between the two parents, they finally submitted the NAP application. The next day, Keith rang Jenn with shocking news - they'd have to mortgage the house to afford all the options, especially due to one particular option, which cost half the fee of the entire procedure. Sitting in the ICU room, looking across at a silent Meredith, Jennifer wondered if that last decision was the right one. > **OPTIONAL: AMAZON TRANSFORM THERAPY - Do you wish to transform your Little into an Amazon, with full rights and function that status confers? <Y/N>** Y > **WARNING: There is significant financial cost, and serious side-effects imposed on the Little, by selection of this option. Do you wish to proceed? <Y/N>** "Look at it this way, Jenn. Littles don't normally get any chance to grow up." "Yes, I know that, Keith! I'd like her to have a life though, do things that she'd not be able to do if she stayed a Little", Jenn advocated, becoming more passionate towards a proper life for Meredith with every passing minute. "Like what?" "I don't know, maybe become a lawyer, work for Littles rights, or something like that?” "Wishful thinking there", Keith retorted. "Don't you want her to achieve something? Rather than remain a Little one for the rest of her life, forced to be a baby all the time by Amazons?” "Of course I do, hon! Let's at least get her to school and see if she's got some smarts and aptitude“. Keith opened another browser window and began doing some searches for the serious side effects mentioned. "Hmm... look at this", he pointed to a paragraph. Transforming a little into an Amazon was certainly possible, but it meant the body aged at half the normal rate. "If I'm reading this correctly, when she turns 20, she'll actually physically be 10?” “Why is that?” “Stresses on the body, it seems…”, he summarised, and continued reading. "And so we'll be something like 60 years old", Jenn concluded. "Oh, and there's also the issue of her current age too, so she'll actually be something like 35 years old. " "Yes", Jenn said, and looked away, emitting a quiet sob. "Must be really hard on her body" "Are we agreed? Give her a proper life, as an Amazon?” Jennifer looked back at her husband. He was very close to tears. She could see that, although Keith had his reservations on transformation therapy, he was a softie at heart, and only wanted what was best for his children, Meredith obviously being no exception. She handed him the handkerchief, and confirmed the final NAP option. My weird technicolour dream was rudely interrupted by noise and voices and light. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the brightness. Oh, a light was shining right at my head, with at least three people here. "Oh, hi there!", a deep male voice spoke, off to my left. “I’m very sorry to disturb you, just looking at how your head is healing up”, he upbeatedly stated. A head wound? Ok… I could hear voices in the background again, and it took a few moments to realise it was that radio from before. “… and it’s a wonderful, sunny, Sunday afternoon, time about 3:15pm, news at 4… “, it droned on. I quickly lost focus in the radio when prodding and poking elicited a wave of intense headachy pain. I heard a couple of phone-type loud beeps off to my right. [Husband] Need you to sign some papers with me, Babe. Consent, and legal liability forms these look like. [Jenn] Oh? [Husband] Yeah, from NAP. [Jenn] On my way!! Jennifer put her phone away, stood up, and bent over to kiss Meredith on the forehead, causing the doctor to stop his examination. I studied this new face appearing in front of me. Another Amazon female, not dressed like the others, kinda nice looking, gorgeous deep blue eyes, I was mesmerised. I’d never seen this woman before, yet she bent over and kissed my forehead so gently, before whispering something incoherently, maybe “I’ll be back later”, before disappearing from view. I could feel myself starting to struggle with the tube down my throat about an hour later. I was starting to fight the machine which seemed really intent on forcing air into my lungs at the most in-opportune times. Which prompted more BONGS! and BLEEPS!, so a nurse appeared above me. “Are you ok?” I very cautiously shook my head. Yes, I can nod and shake my head, but the pain is getting quite unbearable. “Are you in any pain?” I shook my head, before trying to lift my right arm, to discover it was restrained. The nurse glanced at my arm movement, “You want the breathing tube removed?” I nodded. “Ok, I think we can do that”, she responded, and disappeared for a minute or so. The male doctor returned, and told me what they needed to do. Things were a bit messy for a few minutes, as they encouraged me to cough and vomit out the tube that extended right down to near my lungs. I did not look a pretty sight, as my actions, strains, and movement caused immense throbbing pain through my skull. Once the tube was out, they replaced it with a mask over my face, which was delivering 100% pure oxygen. A few minutes later, the nurse used a wash cloth to clean my face up of all the excretions and vomitus. I tried to say thanks to her, but only a croak was emitted. “Don’t talk, your throat will hurt for some time - you’ve had that tube down it for a few days now!”, she warned me. Another croak in response, with a nod. A couple of hours later, after a little bit of practice against the nurse’s advice, I asked for ice. “You can only suck on this, don’t swallow it, ok?”, she instructed. I nodded again. An ice block was given to me to suck on, which felt heavenly as the ice-cold water drops slid down the back of my throat. “Thanks”, I croaked. “Where’s my Mum?”, I eventually asked the nurse, after the ice block was devoured. “Oh, she’s stepped out for a bit. Will probably be back later tonight, or maybe tomorrow morning”, she replied without hesitation. “Ok”. A synapse in my brain started to fire away, but the result for me was only one of confusion. When did I last see Mum? Another synapse, then another. I remember crossing a street, was Mum there with me? Damn this addled brain of mine, as waves of pain began hitting me, so I unconsciously began to stiffen my upper body. “Are you ok?” “My head hurts”, I croaked and cried out. A few beeps later, and I was blissfully swept up in a wave of warmth and haze, drifting off into lala-land. My consciousness arrived at a rush when I felt movement. Looking up, the rectangular light began to move, my bed was moving, they were taking me somewhere. The doctor’s face appeared directly above me, leaning over me. “Hi, sorry to disturb your sleep. I seem to have a habit of doing that, really sorry”, he stated. “What’s happening?”, I asked “We’re transferring you to NAP”, he replied quite cheerfully. “Where’s my Mum?” “She’s going to meet you in NAP” “Ok”. NAP must be another hospital or ward, I thought. With all the movement, and excitement of a new location, I failed to notice my heart rate climb. The doctor certainly didn’t, though, and pressed a couple of buttons. I was soon back into lala-land once more, semi-comatose, semi awake, uncaring about what was happening, and certainly not noticing where they were taking me. As we approached a set of closed doors, my bed stopped moving, and I gathered enough energy to fight through the narcotic haze to wonder what was going on. The doors had some official looking signs on them, and a headboard stated “NAP Treatment Theatre”. My panic started to rise, as my brain synapses began firing on all cylinders - this is going to be bad news. The doctor leant over me, and adjusted my oxygen mask. “Where’s my Mum?”, I called out “Right here, baby girl, I’m right here”, someone responded from behind me. Except this wasn’t Mum, the voice wasn’t my Mum. But those piercingly beautiful deep blue eyes I noticed, as an Amazonian woman came into view. She leant right over my bed, staring at me, and grabbed my right hand. I was terribly confused. How could this woman say to me that she was my mother? Wait. What were my synapses telling me earlier, which I ignored? As I started to pull a weird questioning confused face, “You’re not my mum”, I exclaimed. “Oh, darling, I’m so sorry”, she replied, shaking her head. As I looked into those deep blue eyes, I could see tears of sadness, pain, and grief appear within them. Bolts of nervous energy coursed through my body, the hairs on my arms stood on end, goosebumps broke out, as those synapses finally formed a picture. I was lying on my side, on a road, smoke everywhere, dust and grit and stones flying every which way, people running everywhere, Stowe looking down to his left, fingers outstretched, arms rising to cover his face, so I naturally followed his gaze down. Mum was lying spreadeagled across the road, blood all over her face, and arms, and legs. A leg was pointed out, a foot pointed in. Black soot discoloured bits of skin. Clothes torn, some flapping in the breeze of the fast disappearing car. I could not see her face, it was blurring out in the vision my synapses flashed at me, and in that moment in time, I knew. “Mummy!”, I cried out. Pretty quickly, I felt a very tender warm embrace from the woman hovering above me, and a crying whisper into my right ear, “I’m here now, baby girl, I’m here. I will always be here”. A few beeps later, and I rapidly began to lose out to that dark unconsciousness once more, looking up to see the light above me begin to move once more, gently sliding through the double doors into NAP.
  6. Anybody have a full copy of the "Making the most of it" story? It looks to have been a casualty of the recent forum crash/rebuild.
  7. I've had two pelvic ultrasounds so far (about 3 months apart), both showing almost complete voiding. The symptom you're responding to above doesn't happen all that often, so it could be that I get incomplete bladder emptying on occasion. Just haven't captured it on film.
  8. You guys are scaring the bejesus out of me. I've had a number of recent times at work where I've been to the toilet (I wear pullups at work, and nappies the rest of the time), done a wee, cleaned myself up, and am part way through getting my pullup up, and noticed a few drops on my arm, or my thigh. Until recently, I was blaming those drops on just not cleaning up more thoroughly, but those drops are post-void dribbles. Today, I came home from work, stepped out of my pullup, jumped on the potty, did a wee, and sat there after it stopped and felt drops continue to move around down there for a good couple of minutes - more post-void dribbling. I'm really curious though about the ones where I do a wee to completion, then 5 minutes later, do another one that is the same or more volume than the first. FYI, I'm a girl, suffering from stress IC, bladder urges, urinary strictures... Have been 24/7 since late August, and see a lot of my IC experience of what yas talk about in this thread and the "fully continent to fully incontinent" thread.
  9. Jealous of girls

    Ok, getting back on topic, girls in nappies rule! * We don't have to worry about whether our pee is going shoot out the top of the nappy * There's no unsightly bulge down there * Looking down and seeing the front of the nappy totally saturated elicits for me, a really babyish feeling of oopsie, and total childish embarrassment! Reason is that it's so hard to get urine to flow up toward the top front of the nappy. * Sexy as hell
  10. incontinence and SRS in transfemales

    Hmm.. it seems my original post got cut off by the forum issues a few weeks back. Anyway, thanks for the welcome. Yes, I've had a few issues myself with long flights. Went overseas recently, and ended up having to change my knickers at the destination airport, as they were damp/wet. Not from a wetting accident, but just drips and leaks over time. Even though I'm DL, I'd not once thought to wear either pullups or nappies... When I came back home, I ended up quickly going 24/7 using pullups due to those leaks, but at work. Female pads weren't cutting it any more Now, I'm flooding most of the time, so nappies it is at home, and pullups at work (because i'm too afraid to wear nappies at work due to logistics). I went to see an urologist recently about the spotting, and also increasingly slow flow issues. I initially thought it was an enlarged prostate, but that's now not the case. My urologist diagnosed stress IC, strictures, and OAB. I've now a history of strictures. After the original SRS surgery, my flow was strong, but all over the place, including outside the toilet bowl. So 6 months later, I went back for a bit of revision surgery, and to have an urethral dilation. That fixed the flow issues. My spotting started a few years ago, and for a while now I've been having flow issues again, this time with slow flow, with bladder spasms. After surgery on Thursday, my urologist stated I had strictures again, that they did a dilation during the cystoscopy exam (I was put under GA for it), and that my urethra size is max 14fr (which seems quite narrow). She even mentioned that it looks like I'll need an urethra reconstruction, whatever that means. I was very tight before the cystoscopy. Post the recent dilation, my flow seems a bit stronger, but the releases I can't stop or slow mid-stream. I'm also finding I'm getting a bit of post-void dribbling too which can last almost as long as the main release. As for UTI's, I haven't had any *touch wood*
  11. ooops, a little embarassing

    "Why are you wearing diapers with prints all over them?", says Doc "Oh, well, because I have to wear diapers for my IC, I may as well have some fun too..."
  12. incontinence and SRS in transfemales

    Hi all, It's taken a bit of courage to subscribe here, delurk, all that. I'm 20+ years post-op, and going on most of 2 years now I'd been urine spotting into my knickers. Things have progressed to the point now where I'm in pullups during the day, and nappies in the evenings and weekends due to stress IC, some unpleasant urge IC, and some bowel IC from childhood to add to this mix. I suspect my urinary problems may be due to the prostate, and I'll soon see as I have an appointment with an urologist soon. I find it quite interesting that other MTF's are having similar IC issues, but at the same time, I'm not surprised, given how much one loses in that area. I _think_ my surgeon said that IC was a risk, but we didn't really speak all that much of this risk factor - we were more concerned about getting bowel fistulas and tears and such. Postop, I was only cath'd for one week whilst in hospital, but went home with a stream that sprayed all over the place (and not into the toilet at all). It took a while for everything to heal up. A surgical followup 6 months later solved the stream issue, and I had no issues for a long time afterwards, had great bladder control, and my bowel control was improving too. Pretty much all my life I've been a DL too, and couldn't wait to try out nappies post-op. Lets just say - total bliss. Even though I tried nappies from time to time during healing, I didn't push things. I was back at work after about 4 weeks (I remember my first day back, I ended up going home at lunch, as my supervisor could clearly see I was struggling). Wonderful times spent exploring all my knickers again (no bumps to see or feel), getting really dressed up in office attire, and quite enjoying life, feeling inspired. But now it's time to see what this new medical issue brings to the table, and what the end-result will be.
  13. An Ozzie Bee is Born

    Hi All, First time posting here, joined yesterday, but have been lurking as a visitor for a few months now. I'm OzzieBee, from Australia. So what brings me here? I'm a long-time DL, am also MtF Transgendered (post-op some 20+ years now.. wow), and recently have been having IC issues slowly building over time to the point now where I'm not wearing frilly knickers, but some form of 24/7 protection. I'm hoping to find some answers, some support and advice, as well as maybe provide support to others in similar situations. Who knows. But anyway, that's about it for now.