RambleLamb

El Arian? Like, saying his initials? Riflensien?

I've never played D&D, BUT I did buy Pathfinder and made a character and started learning the rules and stuff but then realized I didn't have anyone to play with and shelved it. When I played Neverwinter, which is an MMO based in the D&D world, I made an Elf Rogue and used that character as my template for Pathfinder. I'm very interested in D&D and other tabletop games, but I can't play alone and so I just kind of look longingly at stuff related to it, daydreaming about embarking on an epic quest and getting stronger and all the sweet lewts and whatnot. I know I'm not very helpful in furthering your topic, but I'm all you have right now and I didn't want you to feel alone.

"Obsessed"? No. "Amused by"? Yes.

Lambchop didn't write this though, I- OH! I see what you did there! Thanks, buddy!

For what it's worth, I try to tag for a reason but I try not to spoil anything at the same time. I just don't want someone to skip their way into one of my stories and be catatonic or something because they're a delicate flower. Swapping the caregiver/parent/child dynamic is powerfully enjoyable to me because it puts a definitive mark on how far the adult has fallen, but I get that it's not for everyone. Thanks for putting up with it! See, now I'm imagining a dude cuddled up with his penis in bed reading one of my stories to it and I can't unsee that ridiculousness! Penis has a little nightcap on and everything. I am not well.

I will watch just about any horror movie if it sounds even remotely interesting. From ghosts to killers to zombies, I adore spoopy movies in all their gory and terrifying forms. How about you?

This story is so wonderful, it truly is a masterpiece in the arena of slow burn mental regression. All the likes for you!

Totally! I'd settle for being the R.L. Stine of ABDL horror though...

Thank you! I'm no great shakes but I do experiment wildly when it comes to stories, sometimes it works and sometimes you get a Civil War documentary... I feel like all things should be influenced by LR, for better or worse, dude could write dark and twisted, and I have no shame in admitting that he left his mark on me with a number of his stories. That said, I could never hope to be on his level but the mere mention of him in regards to something I wrote shall be taken as praise of the highest order and I will smile for a while because of it.

Welcome to my world, my sweet Summer child, it's often pretty dark and usually unpleasant, but kudos to you for sticking with it! Check out some of my other work if you're interested, if not though, thanks for reading this one! Is it creepy? I have trouble gauging because I'm so desensitized to creepy and spoopy. I mean, I knew it was fucked and weird but beyond that I didn't really know where it fell.

Diaper Rash By: RambleLamb The waiting area at the doctor's office was full of people, not altogether uncommon for the busy cold and flu season, but sandwiched between an old woman that coughed like she'd just come out of a coal mine after a hard decade's work, and a young woman that looked more nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, jostling her leg and looking at her phone every four and a half seconds as if it were going to somehow fix whatever was wrong with her. I sat quietly and patiently, the model of a good patient, despite the feeling that I needed to desperately scratch the rash that I'd developed. I couldn't possibly do that though, there were children in this waiting room, and scratching myself in front of them, no matter if it's for a valid medical reason is not on my to-do list for today. "Harriet Chambers?" the nurse asked the room. I politely raised my hand and gathered up my purse before moving across the room to her and following her back into the exam area. I followed her down a short hallway and around a corner into one of the rooms. "Have a seat on the table and I'll be right back to do your blood pressure and temperature check." she said from the doorway before closing the door and leaving me alone. I reached behind me and dipped my hand down the back of my pants and began scratching the itchy meat of my left butt cheek, shuddering with pleasure at how much better it felt to attend to the ever present annoyance of this random rash. Satiated for the moment, I took off my jacket and set it aside on the chair against the wall and put my purse beneath it before taking a seat on the paper lined exam table to wait for the nurse to return. "Okay, Harriet, let's get you all checked in." the nurse said as she came back into the room. "Lift your sleeve for me, please." she said as she set her clipboard down and picked up the blood pressure cuff from the drawer behind me. I rolled up my sleeve and allowed her to place the cuff on my arm, waiting as it tightened and finally hissed as it released its stored air. "Hmm, a little high." she noted. "Nervous?" she asked. I nodded. "I don't like doctors." I told her. She smiled as she put the digital thermometer in my ear. "Dr. Miles is very nice, she'll take good care of you." she said as the thermometer beeped and she pulled it from my ear, writing the numbers down on her sheet. Once the nurse had left again I scratched my itch and lay down on the table, wondering how long all of this was going to take and hoping that I could get some cream or something from the doctor and not have to go to a pharmacy to pick something up. I sat up as the door opened again and a tall blond woman confidently strode in, her bright blue eyes looking at me as she closed the door behind her. "Hello, Harriet, I'm Dr. Miles." she greeted warmly. "What seems to be the problem today?" she asked, taking a seat on the stool at the foot of the table. I blushed. Dr. Miles was really pretty and I wasn't at all prepared for that, and now I had to tell her all about my rashy butt, FML, right? "Well, I umm, I have a kind of-" I swallowed hard as I looked into her eyes. "a rash, I guess." I finally managed to add. Dr. Miles nodded. "Where's the rash?" she asked as she wrote on the paper on her clipboard. More blushing. "On my, umm, backside?" I said, making it sound like I had no clue where my butt rash was. She smiled at me easily. "On your butt, then?" she clarified. I nodded slowly, wishing I could just leave right then and there. She stood up. "Okay, pants and underwear down to where the rash is and lay on your stomach, please." she commanded warmly but still in that clinical and professional way that a good doctor has at their disposal. I complied, shimmying my pants and panties down on the left side to expose my reddened butt cheek, burying my face in my folded arms as I lay on my stomach on the table. "Huh." Dr. Miles said simply. "Any changes to your soaps or detergents?" she asked. "No." I replied. "Been through any bushes or rolled around in grass or leaves?" she asked. "No." I replied. "Any contact with foods you're allergic to?" she asked. "No." I replied. "Huh." she said as she pulled on a glove from the dispenser on the wall. "Any pain, or just the itch?" she asked. "Just the itch." I replied. Her warm gloved hand touched my butt and I relaxed despite my blush returning once again. "When did it start?" she asked. "Yesterday." I told her. "Did you do anything out of the ordinary?" she asked. The question hung in the air for longer than I'd intended to let it. "Harriet?" she asked. "You can tell me anything, I'm not allowed to share it with anyone else." she offered, sensing my reluctance. I cleared my throat. "I tried something with my boyfriend." I said cryptically. "Okay, what did you try?" she asked. I sighed. "He likes to, well, the thing is, he-" why was it so difficult to say the words, it wasn't my secret or anything. "diapers, he likes to wear diapers." I blurted, throwing the words out into the world as fast as I could get them from my lips. Silence filled the room and then a small giggle from Dr. Miles. "Did you wear a diaper?" she asked. "No." I said bluntly. Dr. Miles cleared her throat. "Okay, well, it looks like a normal rash, an over the counter topical ointment should clear it up, give me a few minutes and I'll grab you a tube and apply it for you here and then you can handle it from there." she said. Alone once again, I sighed and took stock of my life. I probably got diaper rash from him or something, how embarrassing. I planned to give him an earful when I saw him again, if I didn't die of embarrassment before then. Dr. Miles returned and quickly spread some of the cream she'd gotten over my rash, a cool relief spreading across the area in a satisfying wave. "Use it as you need it and try and keep the area exposed to the air as much as possible." she advised. I nodded. "Thank you, Dr. Miles." I said glumly, my humiliation still filling me up. "You're welcome, Harriet." she said warmly. "If the rash gets worse, call the office and set up another appointment and stop using the cream." she added. "Let that dry a bit and then you can pull your pants back up and be on your way." she said. ************************************************************************ The Next Day I woke up and rolled to the edge of the bed, putting my legs off the side and onto the floor while I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Standing, I reached back to feel my rash and my hand touched something weird causing me to recoil and look down at my butt in the mirror on the other side of my bedroom. I screamed when I saw that the entire left side of my butt was covered in some kind of white, like the cream was still there but thicker and more dense. I touched it again and felt nauseous, it felt like the outside of one of the diapers my boyfriend had been wearing the other day. Touching it, I could feel my fingers running over my butt, but it was like my butt was numb almost, the sensation dull and far away feeling, as if through the surface of my clothes, "or a diaper." I said aloud. Picking up my phone, I called my boyfriend and got his voicemail. "Darren! Call me back, I'm having a serious problem and-" I sat on the bed and heard a crinkle from my left butt cheek. "Fuck it, I'm coming over!" I said and hung up, hurrying to get dressed and wake up a bit before bolting out of the house. In the car on the way over to Darren's house I could feel my left side swelling, causing me to sit with a slight lean as I drove. The crinkling and rustling grew more noticeable as well, and by the time I arrived at his apartment it looked like my left leg was sore or something because of the way I was walking. I used my key to enter his apartment after several frantic minutes of banging on the door and calling his phone with no answer to either. As soon as I opened the door my nostrils were assaulted by the rancid stench of stale pee and old poop, making me gag as I pulled my shirt up over my nose. "Darren?!" I called out, convinced he was dead somewhere inside and I was about to have the worst, most traumatizing day of my young life. A slapping thudding sound came from down the hall to my right, coming closer and more rapidly until I saw Darren crawl out into the living room on all fours, naked except for a ridiculously large diaper that I could tell barely had any of it's clean, whiteness left save for the very top parts nearest his middle. I rushed to him, screaming the whole way. "What the fuck, Darren, you can't just peace out on me to play your little game, I needed you, you fucking dick!". As I got closer he looked up at me and his eyes were bloodshot and puffy like he'd been crying and also wide with fear as he reared up and grabbed at me, succeeding in only getting a handful of my pant legs, tugging them down and leaving me in my underwear. "Darren, whatever this is, stop it!" I shouted as I bent down to pull my pants back up, the rustling from behind me causing him to look at me with wild eyes as he reached out again, whimpering frantically. "Say something, goddamn it!" I yelled as I backed away, letting him fall forward onto his stomach on the floor. Darren looked up at me and opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out besides garbled mumbled. Looking at him with growing concern and fascination, I saw what looked like something inside his mouth and knelt down as I inched closer to him, my slight crinkle beginning to mirror his. "What's in your mouth?" I asked him. He opened his mouth again and stuck out his tongue, sending me tumbling backward onto my butt in revulsion, though I barely felt the impact of my butt on the wood floor, but was too shocked to even notice. Darren's "tongue" lolled out, the end of it having swelled up and hardened into an almost plastic looking material while the body of his tongue had also swelled up but looked more like rubber or latex. The end of his tongue was forming into an almost flat surface but with a protrusion on the tip that looked like it was radiating out into a ring. All at once it hit me why this all looked so familiar, his tongue was turning into a pacifier! "Darren, what's happening to you?" I asked him shakily, my hand moving to cover my mouth in preparation to hold in another scream. He didn't answer, he couldn't without a tongue, but he did do something, he grunted and then he farted and then he began to shit his ridiculously large diaper as he looked at me pleadingly. I moved to my knees. "Darren, do you need me to change you?" I asked reluctantly, repulsed by what I was seeing but also filled with fear and a desire to try and help my poor boyfriend in his time of need. He began to thrash wildly, growling and sobbing in obvious frustration. "Look, I can help you, let me just go find a new diaper for you and I'll make it all better." I offered, not believing a word of what I was saying, but recalling his explanation to me about his desire to be babied and have his "Mommy" take care of him, using that to try and ease his suffering with all that was happening to him. I got up fully and hurried down the hallway, my preoccupation with helping Darren keeping me from noticing that my gait had evened out because my right side was now swelling in much the same way the left side had. I went into his bedroom and saw the signs that he'd clearly been struggling in here, things broken and strewn about, his secret stash of diapers and baby things scattered all over the floor. I bent down to pick up a diaper and heard the crinkle of my butt, louder than before and went to the broken mirror ahead of me and dropped my pants a little, whimpering as I saw that my whole butt was now bright white, my skin looking like the crinkly outer shell of a diaper. My butt crack was gone, covered or just assimilated by whatever was happening, and the growth or whatever it was had started to move lower, encroaching on my lady parts. Hurrying from the bedroom I went to Darren and tried to focus on getting him taken care of before worrying about my own weird body issues. Helping him roll over onto his back, I set the new diaper aside and positioned myself between his legs, gently running my hand over the swollen and discolored crotch of his diaper, as I'd done the other day, feeling the urge to vomit come up again as I felt the squishy, lumpy surface, warm to the touch from use or body heat or both. I smiled at him to keep from throwing up and moved my hand to the tape on the left side, finding it stuck down so well that there wasn't a flap to grab. I dug at it, trying to get it to pop up and stopped when Darren began to whine and writhe. I started to try and calm him when I noticed that the tape I'd been scratching at was bleeding a little bit, the little red blobs standing out against the whiteness of the top area of his diaper. "Holy fucking shit!" I screamed and backed away in a frantic crab walk. "That's not a goddamned diaper, that's your skin, isn't it?!" I screamed, the puzzle pieces finally fitting as I realized what had happened to him was happening to me. Darren began crying, but the sound was muffled and as I looked over his bulbous crotch I could see that he now had a large pacifier in his mouth, sucking it greedily and noisily as he weakly thrashed on the floor. My movement backward had caused me to step on my pant leg and once again pull my pants down, revealing a swelling beginning to form beneath my panties. I screamed and began to hyperventilate as I tried to think of something, anything I could do to stop what was happening to me and fix Darren at the same time. My phone began to ring, as if the universe was throwing me a life line, and I picked it up from where it lay after falling from my pocket and saw that Dr. Miles was calling. "Dr. Miles, you have to help me!" I pleaded. "Harriet? Slow down, what's wrong?" she asked. I felt an odd sensation in my crotch, like I was peeing but in reverse, and shuddered and whimpered. "The rash, it spread and it's turning my skin into a diaper and-" I hysterically babbled. "Harriet, I don't understand, your skin is turning into a diaper?" she asked disbelievingly, cutting me off. I nodded frantically, realizing she couldn't see me. "Yes! It happened to Darren and now he's like a giant baby!" I cried, looking over at my now still boyfriend, worrying that he was dead until I saw his stomach rise with air and realized he'd probably passed out. "I don't understand what you're trying to tell me, Harriet, can you come into the office and show me?" she asked. I shook my head. "I don't think I can, it's going to get worse! Can you come here?" I pleaded. "Bring an ambulance for Darren, please!" I said as I began to sob uncontrollably, the phone dropping from my hand as I reached between my legs and felt only the warm plastic of my diaper skin. "1285 West First Street, Apartment S!" I cried out to the abandoned phone before slumping over onto my side, curling up into a fetal position and crying as the transformation below my waist finished. ************************************************************************ Notes From Doctor Elaine Miles "The inexplicable skin growths seen in patient Harriet Chambers and her boyfriend Darren Willingham continues to confound both myself and the medical community at large. All attempts to treat or diminish the growths have had no success in either patient. Both are being kept alive through feeding tubes as the, for lack of a better term, pacifier, growth in the mouth has rendered both unable to eat or drink normally." "The, again, for lack of a better term, diaper, growth on the lower portion of both patients has been effectively managed with the retained waste within the growth being drained through incision which heals in a matter of minutes to the shock of everyone that's witnessed it. Once the retained waste is drained, the growth returns to a normal, pristine white, like that of a fresh diaper until another incision must be made several hours later." "Darren has shown no signs of higher brain function, receding into a more infantile state, his brain scans suggesting that whatever this growth is may be to some degree parasitic in nature." "Harriet is moving closer to that same state every day, though she does still show signs of recognition when she sees me, but I have noticed she's taken on the trait of Darren, staring at my breasts like a hungry infant, which leads me to believe there is no hope for either of them making a successful recovery without major advancements in modern medicine." "As of the time of this recording, over seventeen thousand cases of this condition have been discovered around the world, with identical symptoms in all cases. The CDC has begun its work to try and accommodate the growing number of sick people, but without much in the way of treatment, we're discovering many victims having starved to death or died from the growths below the waist reaching critical mass and rupturing, leaving them to hemorrhage." "Despite all attempts to keep the rash from spreading to others, several nurses have begun to show signs of skin irritation on the posterior while I myself have begun to feel an itch. I'll continue my work for as long as I can, but I leave these notes as a guide to whomever takes over once I'm unable to continue my work."

Ah, yeah, that's just my mild Lysdexia...nothing to worry about. I'll fix it though, like it never happened.

DA is more of my secondary dumping site since the interface is a little more difficult to interact with people on. I didn't include the intro there because I assumed no one would mind one way or the other. No trolling, it's all legit. As far as the voting goes, I don't think anyone really cares what I do, whether I post something or I don't, the world will keep spinning. People have lives and way more important things going on than what some random pervert wants to do on a silly fap story board. Thank you, that's very nice of you to say. Dude, if I have to look up the definition of the thing you're potentially criticizing me for it's a thousand percent not a thing I realized I messed up. I basically read your comment like this: If you don't get the reference...

Glad I was able to turn you around! Thanks for reading! Thanks for reading!

I'm gonna put on my sweater of realness and "rap" with you guys for a second, kids say that still, right? Whatever, not important. Here's the deal, the contents of this story are all personal accounts and feelings, this is all me, no hiding behind a vague amalgamation of me that's been cobbled together through personality traits and defects, this is real. I may have fudged the ages a bit to make a bit better timeline, but that's all, oh, and I never had a dad, but that isn't really important, he just went out for smokes, he'll be back soon... Anyway, this is what @Wannatripbaby voted for on my status note, but since he was the only person that voted, he wins, so here's your prize...don't gloat to the others too much about your win, it's not that big a prize. Rumors Of This Story's Dire Importance Have Been Greatly Exaggerated By: RambleLamb Many years earlier, a similar dilemma was quite the common occurrence. Times long since buried beneath the decades of time and emotional growth that comes with it came rushing to the forefront as if no time had passed at all. The small clips of her past played out in her mind like a video being skipped forward to get to the good parts, but those good parts were nowhere to be found in this playlist, only shame, embarrassment, and the reminder of her repeated failures glowing like a beacon, signaling to everyone that she was less than what she presented herself to be. She remembered being four or so, playing in the park during her family's annual get together. The air was warm and the smell of fresh cut grass filled her nostrils as she capered and cavorted with the other children. Freeze tag was the game of the hour, and her little legs pumped as fast as she could make them go, the lingering awkwardness of toddlerhood still not completely removed from her coordination at speeds like that, coupled with the almost exhilarating feeling of fear that she'd be tagged by her cousin who was currently "it" as he used his much more practiced and longer legs to chase her down. When his hand touched her shoulder she screamed, not from terror, that was obvious as her scream morphed into shrill peals of giggling, but scream she did and then she dutifully froze in adherence to the rules of the game and watched as the other kids, the unfrozen kids, flitted about to escape "it". She watched and waited, hopeful that someone would come and unfreeze her so she could run and play again, but every time she swelled with hope as an unfrozen person came close she was let down as they passed by without tagging her. It wasn't all that uncommon for the other kids to overlook her or leave her out, she was new to the fold of active kids after all, having only recently graduated from the playpen or the gated off room where the babies played when the family gathered. In this very park the year earlier she'd been seated on her mother's lap while the older kids played, her eyes growing heavy as the heat and her full tummy threatened to abscond with her to dreamland, her mouth working the teat of her pacifier rhythmically as her mother gently bounced her ever closer to the nap she required to keep her from becoming an unholy terror. Being new to the games with the older kids, she felt, even if she didn't comprehend the intricacies of the reasons behind it, like she needed to prove to the others that she belonged with them. She paid extra close attention to the rules of the game when they were explained, keeping her hands at her sides to keep from sucking her thumb, a habit she still practiced quite frequently to the chagrin of her parents, worried that doing so would send her back to the small cluster of playpens beneath the metal awnings where the picnic tables were. She'd stolen a glance that way before the rules began to be explained, and saw one of her cousins looking over the railing at them, she knew from seeing him when everyone had begun arriving that he was clad in only a shirt and diaper, and she didn't want to inadvertently be lumped in with him and his infantile ilk because of something as silly as her thumb sucking habit. As she stood in place like a good frozen player, watching the small swarm of giggling kids of various ages and sizes flit hither and thither she felt the call of nature and began shouting for someone to unfreeze her so she could head to the restrooms on the edge of the park. Time passed and she remained frozen, tears welling up in her eyes as the need to relieve herself grew more and more urgent and the fear of shamefully proving herself unworthy of her newly assigned station crept into her mind as she pleaded to be unfrozen. When the warm trickle formed beneath her sundress she lost her battle to prove she wasn't what she obviously was, and her mother had to come and get her from where she remained frozen, soaked panties and socks and her thumb in her mouth as she was carried away to have her unfortunate situation resolved for her. She'd spent the remainder of the day with the mothers and babies, forgotten by her older playmates as she busied herself with a toy that had caught her eye when her mother was cleaning her up and getting her into a diaper she'd had to borrow from an aunt, apologizing profusely to the woman for the imposition before chiding her for having to be put back in a diaper in the first place. ************************************************************************ Remembering that long past shame made her blush and she closed her eyes for a moment to try and regain her composure but only succeeded in bringing another memory into view. ************************************************************************ It was the night of her school's Christmas pageant, something a little Jewish girl knew nothing about, but her class had worked on the song "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" for several weeks, and she was eager to show her parents what she'd been working on. She was six now, the family gathering where she'd ended up back in diapers and going down for a nap with the other baby's before the fireworks show was far behind her, she was a big girl in real school and was going to be on stage for the first time and she was beyond excited. Being at school at night was strange to her, everything outside was lit by the high pressure sodium bulbs and all the corridors looked different filled with shadows instead of sunlight. She'd squeezed her father's hand as they'd walked down one of those outdoor corridors on the way to her classroom where her parents dropped her off and gave her instructions to wait there for them after the show, to which she nodded her agreement and understanding and was brought into the group of her classmates to put the finishing touches on her antlers and little smudge of black on her nose so the audience would know she was a reindeer. Walking in the single file line with her classmates, no adult hand to squeeze as the shadows encroached on the walking path, she felt her body signal to her that she needed to find a restroom, but when she tried to get her teacher's attention she found that they were at the side door to the auditorium already and were ushered through and up the small set of stairs onto the stage where she saw the sea of faces and camera flashes and camcorder lights staring back at her. As the piano started, she swallowed hard and focused on her performance, making sure to keep the lyrics in the correct order and sing so she could be heard despite several of the boys in her class practically screaming the lyrics. She couldn't see her parents in the crowd but she knew they were watching, they'd told her they would be, and she wanted to make sure they were as proud of her performance just like she planned to be. The applause filled the auditorium as the class took a bow and scuttled back off the stage, down the little stairs, and through the door back into the shadowy corridor where her bladder again, and more insistently this time, alerted her to its fullness. She waited until they'd arrived back at the classroom before trying to get her teacher's attention, but the teacher was busy with a fight between two of the boys that had been acting up on the stage, so she slipped out the door and to the bathroom. Slinking in and among the shadows, she reached the bathroom door and pushed against it, but gaining no entry to the room beyond, the door was locked and she felt herself spring a little leak as she began to panic and wonder what she was going to do. She saw the light coming from the auditorium door and decided to go find her parents and have them help her find a restroom, creeping through the shadowy corridor and coming to the door, finding herself looking up at the backs of countless parents, none of whose faces she could see, thus rendering her search fruitless. The feeling of hopelessness began to flood in as she began to cry and wet herself, screaming as a hand clamped down on her shoulder and she was spun around to see her mother and father looking down on her with unhappy faces. The whole way to the car and the whole drive home she was lectured about leaving the classroom after being told not to, and then wandering around in the dark alone and putting herself in danger. She'd resorted to sucking her thumb to stop her tears minutes into the car ride, and when her mother turned on the overhead light in the car to turn and look at her when they'd stopped at a red light, she'd had her thumb yanked from her mouth as the lecture turned to the state of her pants and her thumb sucking, the question of her maturity being brought up in tandem with the reminder of how she'd ended up at the family gathering. Her mother had pointed out stores along the way home asking if she'd like them to stop and get her some diapers, bringing more tears and the return of her thumb to her mouth. By the time the last store on the way loomed in the windshield, her mother wasn't asking her what she wanted anymore, she was telling her father to pull into the parking lot and sending him into the store to get some diapers and a pacifier for their apparently infant daughter. When they'd finally arrived home, she was given a bath, diapered and sent to bed without supper, her new pacifier stuck into her mouth to quiet her crying as she was tucked in and left to cry herself to sleep and stew in her feelings of humiliation and remorse at disappointing her parents on what was supposed to be a proud and important night. She shuddered inwardly at that memory, knowing that she'd had to wear each diaper in the pack to bed until the pack was empty, feeling only slightly better at the thought that she'd at least managed to avoid having to wear them to school as her mother had threatened many times. ************************************************************************ Her bladder sent her an urgent message to her in that moment and she winced and chided herself for drinking so much coffee that morning, but another memory allowed her to push those thoughts aside. ************************************************************************ She was ten and was annoyed that she was having to spend the day at the discount store with her mother instead of being with her friends. Shopping with her mother was an exercise in trying to keep one's sanity in the face of walking up and down each aisle of the store and making absent smalltalk about the items they saw on the shelves. She rolled her eyes for the dozenth time since they'd walked into the store some fifteen minutes earlier, and as they reached the end of the aisle, she grimaced at the realization that they'd only seen two aisles in that time with another forty or so remaining to be seen. By aisle six, she felt the need to use the restroom and asked her mother if she could go find one. With her mother's blessing she moved through the store to find someone to ask for directions to the bathroom. When she found someone, a cute boy that was older enough than her for her to feel incredibly self conscious about having to ask about the bathroom but not close enough to her age for her to feel comfortable with being able to pass off the request with nonchalance despite the need growing with each passing moment. She'd returned to her mother and lied, telling her that the store didn't have a bathroom, asking instead if she could go to the larger clothing store next door to try and find one. Her mother was otherwise occupied with a set of picture frames that she thought would look nice in the guest room, and waved her away to do what she needed to do. Making her way out of the discount store and over to the clothing store, her search became more frantic as she scanned the areas she walked by for someone to ask or a sign to guide her, after making two complete laps and finding neither of the things she was searching for, she trudged back to the discount store and rejoined her mother on aisle nine, lying once again when asked if she'd found a bathroom okay. Three aisles later the pain became too much for her and she flooded her jeans right then and there, her mother not noticing with her back to her and shopping occupying all of her attention. Two aisles after that was when the wet denim began to dry and become itchy and uncomfortable, and she finally had to summon the courage to tell her mother what had happened. Her mother fell into her old routine with ease, loudly chastising her for lying and for having an accident, dragging her through the store to the aisle full of off brand diapers from other countries and getting even more angry when it was obvious that those wouldn't be an option for her preteen daughter. They'd left the store with her mother dragging her by the hand like a scolded toddler, making her sit on a blanket in the back seat, threatening her with diapers and spankings from her father the whole way home, none of which came to pass, though she was grounded and sent to her room after her clothes were put in the wash. That was the first time she'd felt disappointment at not being punished. She'd never intentionally wet herself, but she'd had enough accidents in her time that the routine was known, she'd be talked down to and threatened with diapers, asked if she'd like to wear them to school and have all her classmates know that she wasn't able to control herself like some kind of toddler still trying to master the potty. When she was asked things like that she'd briefly entertain the idea of having that happen and become confused when the thought both embarrassed her, as it should, and made her a little happy. She was still years away from learning the truth about herself, but this moment would definitely prove to be a key one in her womanly development. As an adult she'd return to this day in her mind and wonder what would have happened if her mother had stopped the cute older boy she'd been reluctant to approach about her need to find a restroom, and asked him for help finding a diaper that would fit her larger than normal baby. The fantasy would play out with her on the floor of the diaper aisle having her mother opening pack after pack of diapers to try each of them on her, the cute older boy watching as she sobbed and sucked her thumb until finally a fitting diaper was found and she was picked up by him and placed in the seat of the shopping cart which was then loaded up with packs and packs of the winning diaper. This fantasy usually brought her to completion by that point, but sometimes she'd go a step further and have her mother, wheeling her through the store in the shopping cart, happen to bump into a friend of hers from school and have to sit in the cart with her diaper on display while the mothers talked, culminating in her messing her diaper there in the cart and having her old pacifier, which had inexplicably found its way into her mother's purse, shoved into her mouth to stifle her infantile wails. By the time that scenario played out in her mind she would feel like she'd need to bandage her aching fingers before passing out. ************************************************************************ In the present, her mind was reeling from the sudden inclusion of sexual ministrations creeping into the mix of her humiliation highlight reel, and she felt her face flush again. She looked around and inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that no one was paying attention to her. She squeaked quietly as she felt her bladder spasm and squirt a little bit causing her to bite her lower lip. She knew it was only a matter of time now, and she knew that there wasn't any escape from that reality, but she couldn't help but feel the familiar shames wash over her, a lifetime of accidents and degrading lectures, threats and punishments, all of it reaching a fever pitch in her mind as she gave up, letting herself go right there, surrounded by all these people, people she didn't even know. Her diaper swelled with the introduction of this onslaught of liquid and she closed her eyes and savored the warmth as it tickled her most intimate areas and gave her the relief she'd been looking for for the last several minutes. As she finished peeing she looked around again and noticed that no one was paying attention to her, and she smiled as she began moving through the crowd again, her secret accident still a secret, the way it was always meant to be.

Who knows, maybe a sequel will pop up somewhere down the line... Thanks for reading! I'm glad you enjoyed it!

I mean, that's up to @Cute_Kitten, as the coiner of the term, she has licensing rights. Also, M+M's are delicious but really don't have a place in that kind of story...

I mean, he doesn't have hands, he's just kinda smashing his head onto the keyboard, ANY words being made from that are exceedingly impressive! It could be a series, like they just touch dicks in various places around the world. "ClockingDongz" for they're trip to a Swiss clock maker, with sexy results, "SmockingDongz" for they're time as nurses, with sexy results, "StockingDongz" would obvi be the Christmas special where they meat Santa (See what I did there? Meat is code for peen) again, with sexy results.

You realize that "nocooterz" is now public domain and WILL be used in the future, right? Also, "peckingpeckerz" is great and all, but "dockingdongz" has that little bit of extra panache we all need in our stories to touch ourselves to. Fucking self righteous aardvarks...also, the giant fist popping out of the computer made me think of this, and that alone earns you an internet point for the day: *moves beads on her abacus* If my math is correct, and it always is, you're sitting pretty with twelve million internet points now, a couple hundred thousand were earned for your post here. Great job!

See, now I'm just imagining a penis in a comfy chair with little bifocals on, sipping tea and reading my story. Thank your penis for reading and do nothing to dash the adorable mental image I have from my mind.

Thank you for reading "zeropenises" is solely for identifying that no penises are in the story, having a penis doesn't exclude anyone from reading my work that happens to have that tag. Would your story indeed have no vagina's? Because if you used that tag and then in fact did have a vagina in the story you'd be tagging erroneously and that's grounds for termination. I'm obviously joking, tags are tags, some people use them to alert folk about potentially upsetting content, I use them to make attempts at humor. I feel like this is a non issue and your question is somehow meant to be some kind of weird SJW thing and I don't understand the point of it so I'm going to simply say, that "zeropenises" is a perfectly acceptable tag and if it bothers you then feel free to not read my stories, I have plenty of content that should actually be questioned rather than resorting to picking apart how I tag my stories. I appreciate you reading my story, and I'm not mad at you, just confused at the point of your argument. Please do have a nice day.

Parent Teacher Night By:RambleLamb Her heels clicked on the linoleum and reverberated in the small corridor of the school hallway. She was still dressed in her smart cream colored business suit, her gray peacoat tied loosely closed to defend against the cold outside, as she walked down the hall with her daughter's hand in hers. The little girl worked hard to keep pace with the long, elegant strides of her mother and was more or less being dragged down the hall to her classroom. The handwritten sign on the door read "Ms. Malford, Kindergarten" and below that, a second handwritten sign read "Welcome, parents!" that sign being adorned with pastel smiley face stickers. The woman sighed wearily and pushed the door open, entering with her daughter and releasing her grip on the little girl's hand to remove her own coat while she watched her daughter do the same, taking both coats and looking for a place to put them. "You can hang them up in the cubbies at the back of the room, dear." a kindly older woman's voice said from nearby. The woman gasped, not seeing the woman behind the desk at the front of the room until she'd suddenly spoken. The woman looked at the teacher and then at the coats in her arms and nodded her understanding before clip clopping to the back of the room to hang the coats up on the little hooks inside the tight cubbies and then walked back to the front of the room, looking puzzled as she scanned the area for a place to sit. The teacher rose from behind her desk and gestured with her open palm to the small, brightly colored chairs in front of the desk. "I know they're a little small, but I feel that it's important to have the children be on equal ground with their parents during these meetings," she explained. "it's been my experience that if we treat them like smaller versions of adults we'll see them reach and exceed that expectation sooner than if we coddle them or speak like they're not a part of the conversation." she added. The woman desperately wanted to roll her eyes, but she maintained her demeanor and nodded silently before taking a seat on the small yellow plastic chair, her ample bottom finding the fit to be less than ideal, but not as bad as she'd expected. She turned to see her daughter cover her mouth to suppress a giggle at the sight of her mother on a child's chair, but a sharp look brought the girl to the other chair to sit quietly with her hands folded in her lap. The teacher raised an eyebrow without either of the pair in front of her noticing and sat down in her own chair, a decidedly more adult chair, and opened a file on her desk. "It says here that you're a single parent, is that correct, Allison?" the teacher asked, adjusting her glasses as she read the document in front of her. The woman bristled at the informality of the teacher using her first name rather than addressing her by "Ms. Grey" like other adults would, but she chalked it up to the daft old bat being surrounded by little nose pickers all day and decided to let it go. "Yes, that's correct." she replied demurely. Ms. Malford nodded. "I think it would be a good demonstration for you to address me as "Ms. Malford" or "Ma'am", don't you, Allison?" she asked. Allison felt her face flush at the insinuation that she show this woman respect but not be given it in return but held her tongue. "Yes, Ma'am." she said through clenched teeth, producing another small giggle from her daughter. Ms. Malford smiled and looked back down at her file. "Do you find it difficult to be a single parent?" she asked. Allison shook her head. "No." she said bluntly and immediately added "Ma'am." when Ms. Malford looked up at her. Ms. Malford smiled again and nodded her approval. "Well, Lydia is one of my brightest students, she's often helping the other children after completing her own work, and offering her assistance with various things I need to do to ensure the children are taken care of." she explained. "To hear her tell things, she didn't learn that from you though." she added. Allison looked to her daughter in surprise and then to Ms. Malford. "I'm not sure what you mean by that, but I assure you that I-" she began petulantly but stopped when Ms. Malford held up her hand to her. "I've heard many excuses over the years, Allison, and I'm in no mood to hear more of them tonight." she said. "The simple fact is that, if Lydia is to be believed, and given her behavior in class and her maturity, I do, you're not quite the mature and proper parent you present yourself as." she explained. Allison went red with anger and shot up from her little chair, hands on her hips defensively. "Listen here you old bitch!" she began. "Sit down, Allison!" Ms. Malford commanded with an empowered voice that her slight and almost frail frame hid the existence of. Without hesitation, Allison plopped back down onto the chair, her face red from embarrassment now over anger. Ms. Malford rose from her seat and put her hands behind her back as she walked around the desk, looking at Allison with the practiced eye of a teacher. "That's a perfect example of what I'm talking about, young lady." she said. "Not only are you incapable of handling the slightest bit of constructive criticism, but you're also disrespectful to your elders, short tempered, and you have a potty mouth!" she said, narrowing her gaze as she listed off Allison's shortcomings. "Look, I've been very stressed at work, I have a very important job and-" Allison began to explain but stopped when Ms. Malford again raised her hand toward her. "I believe that I explained already that I'm not interested in excuses." she said simply. "Though, I didn't really expect you to listen to that and avoid wasting my time with them anyway." she added. Allison shifted uncomfortably on her little chair, feeling ridiculous perched on the colorful plastic thing as she was berated by this woman in front of her daughter. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, please, if you'll just let me explain about my situation, I'm sure you'll see that-" she was cut off by Ms. Malford before she could finish her sentence. "In my class, I like to encourage productive dialogue by having the students use other means of communication to illustrate their thoughts and feelings." she explained. "I find that if a student draws a picture of what they're thinking or feeling it helps them to better articulate their points when speaking about them." she added as she walked over to the small circular table near the other side of the classroom and produced a sheet of construction paper and a box of crayons from the nearby shelf of art supplies, laying the items on the table. "I want you to come over to the table, Allison, and draw me a picture of your house and the people in it." she said matter of factly. Allison once again flushed, looking at the small table and imagining herself sitting in one of those chairs coloring a picture like her daughter might. "Ms. Malford I-" she began to protest. "Lydia, would you be a dear and help Allison to the art table?" Ms. Malford asked. The little girl shot right up from her seat, "Of course, Ms. Malford!" she chirped obediently, moving behind her mother's chair, taking her mother's hand and leading the way to the table as requested, her mother shuffling behind her in much the same way Lydia herself had done on the way into the classroom as her mother led her by the hand. After staring blankly at the table for a moment Allison watched her daughter pullout the little chair in front of the paper and crayons and gently guided her mother down onto it before taking a seat nearby and folding her hands politely on the table. "Thank you, Lydia." Ms. Malford said to the little girl with a warm smile, one that quickly faded when she turned her gaze back to Allison. "See, she's quite the mature girl, very helpful with the more," she pondered her next word for a moment, "sluggish students." she finished, satisfied with her description. The implication that she was a sluggish student somehow developmentally below her decades younger daughter wasn't lost on Allison, but looking up from her tiny chair at Ms. Malford made her reluctant to correct the assertion. "Now, as I said before, I'd like you to draw a picture of your house and the people in it." Ms. Malford repeated. Allison reluctantly reached out and picked up the box of crayons, opening it and looking at the colors inside. The smell of the colorful wax brought her back to her childhood, she'd of course smelled crayons since then, but the combination of being in the Kindergarten classroom, seated in the small plastic chair at the little art table preparing to color a picture for a much older woman in a position of power within these walls culminated in a strong feeling of diminishment in her adulthood. She knew she was still the same successful businesswoman she'd been when she walked in the room, but for some strange reason she also felt like she'd somehow shifted back to an earlier, younger version of herself and the feeling made her head feel like it was floating as she pulled a purple crayon out and began drawing on the construction paper. Several minutes passed with Ms. Malford and Lydia watching as Allison created her picture, and when her crayon went back into the box, Allison looked up at Ms. Malford. "All done, dear?" she asked. Allison nodded but remained quiet. Ms. Malford walked around the table and stood behind Allison, placing a hand gently on her shoulder with one hand while the other plucked the paper from the table and held it up so both of them could look at it. "Tell me what you've drawn, Ally." Ms. Malford said sweetly. Allison felt an odd tingle run up her spine and to the base of her skull at hearing the nickname she'd had through elementary school being invoked here in the present. She pointed at the drawing. "This is our house." she explained, pointing to the slightly off kilter box in the center with skewed windows on the face and a wonky door in the center. "Who's this?" Ms. Malford asked, pointing to the larger stick figure in the drawing, a crudely scribbled hourglass over the body to serve as a dress. "That's me." Ally said timidly, the smell of Ms. Malford's perfume filling her nose, reminding her of her grandmother. She remembered playing at her grandmother's house in the Summer, free from school for three wonderful months without a care in the world, but now she found herself back in school and felt a pang of longing for that freedom again. "And this?" Ms. Malford asked, pointing to the smaller stick figure that appeared to be holding a ball or maybe a giant jellybean, the drawing really wasn't very good. "That's Lydia." Ally said, looking over to her daughter who was smiling approvingly at her. Ally felt a swell of pride at Lydia's approval for some reason. Ms. Malford patted Ally on the head softly. "You did a very good job, Ally." she commended. "But, I think maybe you got a little confused when you were drawing, didn't you?" Ms. Malford asked. Ally looked up at the now standing woman, amazed at how she was towering over her, feeling suddenly very small and unsure of herself. "I don't understand." she said, her puzzlement written on her face clear as day. "Well," Ms. Malford began, "you said that this was you, correct?" she asked, pointing to the smaller figure. Ally felt the tingle again, her memory of playing at grandma's house coming back with the smell of Ms. Malford's perfume. She remembered her mother taking her over there for the Summer, but not because she was out of school, that was silly, she wasn't even in school yet, was she? Ally sat in silence as she tried to straighten out her muddled thoughts and memories. "Ally!" Ms. Malford said sharply to draw the girl from her stupor. Ally jumped in surprise and turned to Ms. Malford, suddenly very concerned that she was in trouble and also that the slight wet tickle in her panties meant she'd had an accident when she was startled. Her hands went below the table and clamped between her thighs, feeling the tiny warm spot she'd created there. "Sorry, Ms. Malford, what was the question?" she asked. Lydia rose from her seat and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Ms. Malford asked if you'd gotten confused with your drawing because you said this was you." she explained patiently as she pointed to the little figure. Ally tried to remember which figure she'd identified as herself, but she was still struggling with her memory of playing at grandma's and with the dampness in her panties. "Yes." she finally said absently as she wondered if the dampness was growing or not. Ms. Malford nodded. "I see, so you're this one." she said, pointing to the little figure. "And Lydia is this one?" she clarified, pointing to the larger figure. Ally remembered now that her mother had brought her to her grandmother's house when she was little. She remembered being carried and playing outside, but not all the way outside. The attention shifting from the situation in her panties allowed her to focus better but also allowed the situation to spill out of control, creating a little puddle beneath her chair. She remembered looking at the yard through a fence, and then everything clicked, she'd been in a playpen outside, because she wasn't a girl out of school for the Summer, she was a baby! "Baby!" she exclaimed with pride. Lydia was gently rubbing Ally's back and nodding. "Are you a baby, Ally?" she asked softly. Ally looked at Lydia and then at Ms. Malford and then felt the clammy wetness on her bottom and struggled to understand what was happening. "Ms. Malford, Ally had an accident." Lydia said, continuing the reassuring rubbing of Ally's back. Ms. Malford clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "This is precisely what I was talking to you about earlier, Lydia." Ms. Malford began as she moved back to Ally and took the girl's hand, gently pulling her to her feet. "Ally exhibits clear indicators that she's simply not ready for school yet, and I think would benefit from some time in our daycare to more properly cement the elements in her development that are clearly lacking." she explained as she placed Ally's hand in Lydia's and led the way to the door, Lydia moving behind her with Ally in tow as they moved through the door and down the hall. Ally looked down at her feet as they stumbled along clumsily behind Lydia, she wondered absently where they were going, but the cold wetness in her panties reminded her that she'd had an accident and she knew that the grownups were taking her to fix the problem. Standing outside another door, Ms. Malford unlocked it and entered, flipping on the lights as she did. Lydia pulled Ally along inside, Ally looking at the brightly colored sign on the door and giggling at the cartoon sun and flowers but not seeing what the words near them said. As they entered the room Ally saw the toys and immediately raced forward to them only to be stopped in her tracks by Lydia's firm grasp on her hand. "They'll be time enough for play in a moment, Ally, but first we need to get you cleaned up, don't we?" Ms. Malford asked rhetorically. Ally looked to Lydia and saw the warm, reassuring smile on her face and felt a calm wash over her. Ms. Malford and Ms. Grey weren't mad at her for having an accident, they were going to make it all better and then she could go play. The prospect of playing with the brightly colored toys on the soft and colorful playmat made her happy and she obediently followed behind Ms. Grey as she led her to the back corner of the room where the changing tables were. "Now, because of Ally's size, I'm afraid she won't be able to use all of the things the teachers have available to them for caring for the other little ones, but I'm sure they'll manage just fine." Ms. Malford explained as she grabbed a plastic mat from beneath the top of the changing table and handed it to Lydia. "I'm afraid I'm not quite as spry as I used to be, Ms. Grey, but I'm confident you can handle things here perfectly well." she said. Lydia nodded and got down on her knees to spread the plastic mat out and gently but commandingly guided Ally down onto it before beginning the process of disrobing her charge. Ally had decided that the brightly colored things hanging from the ceiling were overwhelmingly fascinating and reached her hands up to grab them, the concept of distance eluding her as she jostled back and forth at Ms. Grey helping her out of her clothes. Ms. Malford had gone to the small desk on the other side of the room and returned with a pink and white bag which she set beside Ms. Grey. "I had hoped we wouldn't need this, but prepared it in case." she explained. Lydia set the wet clothes aside and went into the bag, pulling something out and leaning forward, placing it to Ally's lips. "Open up for your binky, sweet girl." she cooed. Ally felt a rubbery material on her lips and opened her mouth instinctively, allowing the object to enter and fill her mouth. As she probed it with her tongue and tentatively tried to chew on it, she found herself beginning to suck and was again filled with a wave of calm. "See there, she's clearly much more akin to a toddler or infant." Ms. Malford declared. Lydia nodded. "I feel like it's my fault for not seeing the signs sooner." she said. "I hope that she'll be able to catch up to where she should be soon." she added as she went back into the bag and produced the container of baby wipes that she began to use to clean Ally's wetness from her. Ms. Malford nodded approvingly. "I'm still so impressed with how mature you are for your age, Ms. Grey." she stated. Lydia was finishing her task of rubbing the powder into Ally's skin and wiping off her hands before she pulled the pastel pink diaper from the bag and quickly affixed it to Ally's waist with the tapes firmly and patted the front of it gently. "My grandmother always said that age was just a number, that some people were wise beyond their years." she said as she watched Ally roll onto her side and crawl away to the toys on the other side of the room, plopping down with a crinkle and her legs splayed out in front of her as she sucked her pacifier and pulled the colorful plastic items from the little basket containing them. Lydia smiled as she watched Ally play, "Then others are older on the outside than they really are on the inside." she said. Ms. Malford nodded. "It's getting late, Ms. Grey, perhaps you should call your grandmother to come and pick you both up." she offered sagely. Lydia nodded as she bagged up Ally's wet clothes and put them into the diaper bag. "My phone is in the other room, would you mind keeping an eye on her for a minute?" she asked as she rose to her feet. "Not at all, dear." Ms. Malford assured her. Once Lydia was out of the room, Ms. Malford approached Ally and looked down at her. "Lydia told me that you weren't quite up to the task of being a parent, dear." she began. "Tales of late nights out with clients that resulted in you stumbling home and passing out on the couch, often wetting yourself in your sleep and shamefully allowing your daughter to clean up after you while you showered, at her insistence no less. Eating meals prepared by her and balking at something as simple as attending a parent teacher conference because it wasn't a desirable task." she explained disappointedly. Ally looked up at the woman and though she wasn't quite sure what she was saying, she knew she was disappointed in her, and that didn't make her feel very good, it made her tummy feel like it was spinning and she began to fuss behind her pacifier. "I know you're not going to comprehend any of this, that's why I'm sharing it with you, but I'm a very powerful witch." she said. "One of my favorite things to do is balance the scales when they're nearing their tipping point, in this case, the inequity of your relationship with your daughter." she said, smiling down at Ally. "All of the changes are already beginning to take form, but tomorrow morning will be a fresh start for your family, you'll wake up knowing that you're too little even for Kindergarten despite being an adult, Lydia will wake up knowing that she's now the more mature sister in your relationship despite being twenty odd years younger than you, and your mother will wake up knowing that she's got two daughters, one poised for greatness and academic pursuits while the other one is destined to repeatedly fail the simple task of keeping her diapers clean and dry." she explained. "If you can master potty training before Lydia finishes school here then everything will go back to normal." she added. Ally furrowed her brow and felt herself sit forward to allow something to enter the seat of her diaper and that made her tummy feel better and she sat back and giggled at the silly old lady talking to her before a yawn escaped her. Ms. Malford chuckled to herself. "I half expected that to be your answer." she said. Lydia returned with the coats and purse left in the other room. "Grandma will be here soon." she said as she set the items down and went to Ally and Ms. Malford. "Did she give you any trouble?" she asked. Ms. Malford shook her head. "I'm afraid she'll need a clean diaper before bed, but aside from that, she was a perfect angel." she said. Lydia sighed teasingly and looked down at Ally. "Did you make a poopy after I just changed you?" she asked rhetorically. "Honestly, Ally, sometimes I wonder if you'll ever grow up!" she joked. Ms. Malford laughed knowingly and admired her handiwork.