Nana Abby

"It's ok Mr President, the party stands firmly behind you. This will be a partisan vote." Donnie looked in confusion at Mr Mitch and wondered what the word partisan meant. Later he looked it up online, found out it was Sten guns in the forests fighting off the Russian hordes, guerrilla warfare and, well, sounded a bit like terrorism to him. He rang his friend Mitt. "Mitt, I don't want these partisans in the Senate. This has to be a fair vote, a great vote, a vote for the American people. I know I can trust you Mitt, you're a good man." Mitt was surprised at this request but showed loyalty to his party and country. "You can count on me, Mr President." Later that day the vote happened, half the senate voted on party grounds and the other half voted for democracy and in support of their President. The verdict was however clear: Guilty on both counts. Nancy leapt to her feet and ripped her top off, revealing beneath her wrinkled breasts. "Suck on these Donnie!" she screeched, "You're ours now." Mitt sighed, but knew he'd done the right thing. Mr Mitch stared confused at his party members, at Donnie, and then at Nancy, still leaping around in ecstasy. "I'm sorry Donnie but these are serious crimes and I must deliver a serious sentence. You are to be stripped of your office and, because you've shown no ability to act like an adult, stripped of all adult responsibilities." Two Secret Service agents pounced on Donnie and stripped him of his clothes. They tried to strip him of his dignity but couldn't find it. Turning him around to face the waiting press he saw Alexandria approaching him, something padded and plastic in her hands. "NO!" screamed Donnie, "I want the thickest diaper, the best most absorbent one ever. America does the best diapers and I'm going to prove it." Alexandria stopped in bemusement and looked at Nancy who shrugged and beckoned over a senior official. A few seconds conversation and she scurried off, returning a minute later with a bulky package in her arms. Alexandria took it from her looked inside and burst out laughing. "Oh Mr President," she said flirtatiously, "Look what I've got for you." Donnie found himself drooling. He'd been trying to work out how to get intimate with that New York hottie for months and here she was, coming over to him while he was naked, promising him just what he'd asked for. Alexandria saw the drool and asked, "Oh, is little Donnie hungry? Here, let me get your bigly diaper on and then I can feed you." Nancy smirked. "That's right little Donnie," she taunted, "you're going to be in diapers for the rest of your life, and drinking breastmilk to make sure you keep them well used." Donnie looked up at the Latina minx fitting several inches of padding around his crotch. "A lifetime suckling on those? I knew becoming President was a good idea!" Mr Mitch and Mitt looked at each other and smiled. Now they could really fix the country. the end

She looked down in distress at the thick padding she was now uncontrollably soaking. "Don't worry," she said softly. Her voice was gentle, as if she was about to pull the girl's diaper down her legs. Naomi decided to be the first to speak. "I'm sorry I did this. I didn't know. I'm sorry it hurts." "I'm sorry too," she said softly. What had happened to the woman? There was a ripple of sobbing in the room and a look of distress on their faces. Naomi's eyes were open and looking down at the woman. "I thought I had to do this." She knew that the words were the only thing she could say and that was the extent of her apology. She knew the woman was sobbing and her face was flushed in embarrassment. As she began to pull in her seat, she watched a man step into the doorway. It was a little awkward, but not jarring. He wore a white blouse with a red lace trimming the hem and a white shirt with the words, "Please." "I don't really need to ask," the man said in a soft voice. He took the chair from Naomi and sat down. "I don't want to hear any more of that." The woman's voice was soft, but it was clear she wasn't looking forward to being talked about. "Please what?" "Please have the diaper removed. You can do that yourself. It's the only way I can change a diaper anyway." The man's voice trembled slightly. He hesitated for a long moment, and then said, "I'd like that very much if I could, but I'm not going to ask." The woman was silent, watching the man's distress and then her own. "I really want to have the diaper removed," she said softly, "I really want to be able to have a change." "So what do you want to do?" the man asked nervously. The woman nodded. "I want to just change it. I think I can do it without any permanent damage." She nodded again. "I want to have you change it. But?" The man's voice hid her thought. "And what?" The man sighed. "I want to just change it. I don't want to have you change it permanently." Naomi's eyes flew open as she saw the man's face. "What?" He looked at her with a sly smile. "Change it first." She trembled. "I thought that might be possible, I didn't tell you. I thought it was a little bit more complicated than that." The man's smile broadened, "I thought I'd help." He shifted to his own seat, left it, and returned to his own seat. He then reached for the bar and said, "I'll help." "I don't know, I don't know. Why would you help?" The man's voice was low and sweet. "I don't care if you help or not, just let me help." He withdrew his hand and said quietly, "I have to do that, though, I was just born with a disability. I want to help. Your husband needs help too. I will help. Nothing's going to happen to either of them." Naomi walked to the door and turned it to the side. She didn't want to see the face of the man again. That meant that he was looking at her and the woman, and her. He was wearing a thin smile and said softly, "You're going to need help changing that diaper. I'll just help myself."

I didn't know Jason but I'm sorry for your loss. This story is complete although there may one day be a sequel from the coroner's perspective, exploring the tragic events that led to the closure of this sorry tale.

Jamie pulled on his new VR goggles. "Calibrating user," said a voice in his ear, "User calibrated. Gaming expectations understood, configuring system now." Nothing happened. Jamie waited patiently. Something happened. Jamie jumped, found himself in a strange world, his hands operating a strange contraption that he could move, steer, use to explore the world. Hours later Jamie felt hungry, searched for the option to exit the system. He rapidly realised he lacked controls to achieve this, put down the hand controllers and ripped the VR set from his head. As he stood to find food he realised that while he'd been under he'd wet himself, a cold damp puddle now beneath his jeans, his underwear soaked. A shower, laundry, dinner then bed. Jamie lay awake wondering how to enjoy that fantastic VR experience without ruining his clothes or furniture. The next morning he dressed quickly, went shopping, bought himself some adult incontinence protection. Back home he tried on the strange garment, looking like a slimmer more medical version of a baby's diaper. Fastening it in place he skipped his jeans and pulled the VR helmet back on. "Calibrating user," said a voice in his ear, "User calibrated. Gaming expectations understood, configuring system now." Nothing happened. Jamie waited patiently. Something happened. Jamie jumped, found himself in a strange world, dressed like an actual baby, looking out from inside what seemed to be a playpen. "What the..?" he wondered, then discovered that the brainwave scanning elements of the system had detected his confusion. "Awww, coochy coochy lickle baby," said the system, "Don't you worry, we'll look after you until your legal guardian releases you from the system." "But I don't have a legal guardian!" explained Jamie, reaching up to remove the headset. He found to his horror that this wasn't possible, the system manipulating his brain to prevent him from completing that task. In the simulation he could tell he'd wet himself, and a strange robotic humanoid dressed like a nanny changed his virtual diaper. He worried, knew that in real life that wasn't happening, and now he was getting hungry. Time passed. "I'm telling you, that smell ain't right," proclaimed Jamie's neighbour, "You gotta go in and sort that out!" "All right, all right," said the landlord, using his spare key to force entry. "Oh. You'd better call the police. And the coroner."

Book 3 Chapter One Natasha flounced out of the bathroom, unashamed of her youthful nakedness, pert breasts and buttocks firmly holding against the motion as she walked. "It's not good enough," she declared, "I am going to have to visit the General myself." "Oh yes, that is a good idea," enthused her Nanny, "shall we get you dressed appropriately for such an occasion?" Natasha quailed but her determination won through and she acceded to her Nanny's suggestion. "Yes, we must show him that I am not to be ignored," she stated. Her Nanny pulled her over to the dressing post and bade her to hold on with both hands. Natasha complied, feeling silly stood there immodestly, every part of her on show, waiting for someone else to dress her. She didn't stay naked for long, her Nanny pulling a simple shift over her head and, taking each hand from the post to feed through before putting them back, pulling it down over her chest. Natasha didn't welcome this addition, soft and gentle against her skin as it was. She knew this was only the first layer, scant protection against the brutality about to ensue. Her Nanny moved swiftly, knowing that Natasha could change her mind, wanting to subdue and constrain the girl before that was possible. She pulled a stiff garment around Natasha's chest and waist, hooks at the front fastening it safely against her ward's body. The garment was a new import from Paris, expensively engineered, stiff whalebone giving it a shape and structure that it imposed on the wearer. "Oh!" said Natasha, reminded of the discomfort this would cause, "Do I really .." "Yes!" interrupted her Nanny, "Now be a good girl or you wont be walking comfortably when you visit the General." Natasha glared at her Nanny but said nothing, knowing from experience that this was no idle threat. She looked down at the expensive linen wrapping her, rows of contrast threading neatly hand-stitched vertically down, holding the whalebone in place and forcing the fabric to follow its curve. Between the stays soft cotton padding helped plump out her breasts, giving her a more matronly look surprising against her slim virginal frame. Below she could see the garment curving out towards her hips but knew this was momentary, a transient reprieve from the impending day of discomfort. As Natasha gripped tightly onto the post her Nanny started drawing soft strong laces through eyelets on at the rear, drawing the two halves of the garment together between Natasha's shoulder blades. Happy with the initial level of tension she switched her focus to the bottom of the sternly constructed clothing, repeating the lacing process and causing Natasha to gasp in surprise. Looking down Natasha could see that already she was losing sight of her waist but knew that this was merely the start of a lengthy and painful process. The delicate embroidery covering the linen, the silk and lace trimmings, the ribbons that were hidden from the world once she was properly dressed, these were all adornments that couldn't disguise the brutal purpose of the device, its evil clenching of her body to force conformity to societal expectations. How lucky the serfs were, their poor diet and hard work making such a figure a trivial attainment, but Natasha was generous and didn't belittle them for the lack of comprehension of her sacrifices and suffering to provide so glamorous a look. Her Nanny knew, and was now grunting as she tugged hard on the laces, a knee in Natasha's back needed to keep her upright as she was pulled and squeezed and tied into her torture. Eventually it was done. As her Nanny tied the laces tidily behind her Natasha looked across to a mirror and saw that she'd gained a remarkable figure with a joyfully narrow waist. The General would have to take her seriously now! "There, that wasn't so bad," declared her Nanny reassuringly, "Everything else will be much easier now." Natasha waited patiently. Her many years of being dressed by her Nanny had taught her that irritation at how long it took merely added further delay. She saw her Nanny take up thick soft cloths and turn towards her, then stop and pause. "Oh. Oh dear, I didn't think of that," said her Nanny, in uncertain tones, "Oh, this is unfortunate." "What is it?" cried Natasha, before continuing, "Oh what is wrong? Do tell me, please, you have frightened me now." "Well," said her Nanny, "I have to diaper you, and the diaper must go below the corset." "I don't need diapers," protested Natasha, "and even if you do insist on them, whyever must they go below my corset?" "Now now, Nanny knows best," reassured her Nanny, "You want to be secure and avoid all distractions when you meet the General so a diaper really must be worn. I need to put it on you under the corset so that your lovely girdle doesn't get wet. You know you can't keep your diapers dry." Natasha sobbed but didn't protest further. Instead she reached out once more for the dressing post, and Nanny started to undo the work that had taken her so long already that morning. Author's note: I have deviated to a minor extent from the original story's plot as Tolstoy was irritatingly remiss in his coverage of early 19th century feminine fashion and its inconvenience to those trapped in diapers. Although at the time of the novel corsets were typically Empire line in design that would have prevented a key plot element in my story so do please forgive me taking liberties with corset fashion chronology. I'm not sure if I should describe the diapering and the corset going back on in detail or whether I might be permitted to summarise that part of the story?

As her skis slid smoothly over the crisp snow she lost control, starting to wet herself. Her ski suit's padding absorbed the initial drops but as she continued down the hill, her skis adjusting seamlessly from snow to sand, she found her suit started to sag, making it harder for her to ski safely. She came to a halt at the base of the mountain, the bleak sun heating the sand and drying her ski suit out for her, but she knew it was too late, that everybody knew, that judgement would be forthcoming. She was going to be put in diapers for this.

The story begins midway through an ongoing situation, introducing an unnamed male character. By opting not to name the character the author simplifies projection by the reader of themselves into the character's role. The character is described interacting with female attire, indicating through the use of possessive pronouns that he is himself wearing it. This corresponds to a subset of Yaoi literature, in which men (or frequently boys) reject traditional masculine norms and take on historical female gender roles, particularly those deemed sexual in nature and (a further subset represented here) involving male pregnancy. The pregnancy is first hinted in the second sentence, an oblique reference to pain without spoiling the rest of the story by revealing its source. That sentence also introduces the second character, again unnamed. This character is probably female but it would be foolish to assume that must be the case given modern flexibility around pronouns and gender. The second paragraph ends the pregnancy through an inelegant and somewhat offputting description of giving birth. Again the nature of the act is kept hidden from the reader, providing suspense and drawing their interest deeper into the story and its characters. The paragraph continues by generously describing the movement of his clothing, something many crossdressers find more important than actual sexual content in an erotic story. A supplementary role of that sentence is to firmly establish the active participation of the male character in the act that has occurred. The third phase of the story sets out a new narrative, portraying the male character as a victim, perceived or otherwise. This implicit acknowledge of subservience to the female character is exciting to dominant women and many men alike, allowing a broad audience to enjoy and find pleasure in the short piece. The male character's apparent confusion may also be considered endearing to some women and a maternal trigger amongst others, evoking a desire to protect and comfort the hapless male. That parental instinct is demonstrably absent in the female character, evidence by her response. She turns the victim story in a new direction, suggesting her own role may be more innocent than initially thought, and that she'd tried to help him prevent the situation. This does of course leave available the possibility that she acted in both capacities, both offering escape from a vicious situation while actually causing it herself. The obvious interpretation (which is nonetheless subjective) is that she was attempting to put the male character into diapers, something thematically appropriate to this site. The surprising addition of a tentacle to the story is where the crossover into Hentai occurs. Although not all Hentai involves tentacle rape that is the subset the Author first encountered, searing a lasting impression on her psyche. By referring to the tentacle getting "inside", the female character infers that the male character was penetrated by a tentacle, her choice of words implying a lack of desire of consent from the male character, evoking the spectre of rape. She then refers without describing it to the child he's just birthed, delaying revelation to the very end of the story, an intentional twist that both provides answers while increasing the horror of the reader. Offsetting that horror are the female's final words. After further establishing perceived blame on the male character himself (quite possibly a malicious case of gaslighting) the female character finishes with a caustic statement that both provides the fulfilling revelation and also positions the male character in an unusual role, granting the reader the delight of finishing on a humorous tone. Hopefully that aids your interpretation, understanding and enjoyment of this short work.

He squatted down, lifting his skirts clear, tugged down his lace trimmed cotton panties and looked up at her. "It hurts!" he sniffled, but she had no sympathy. He groaned, squeezed and she heard a squelch moments before his deep sigh of relief. As he stood, his skirts falling loosely back over his knees, they looked down and saw what he had done. "What is that?" he cried, "What.. How.. Why did you make me do this?" She laughed cruelly. "If you'd worn diapers as I told you that tentacle wouldn't have been able to get inside, you'd never have had that," she told him smugly, "It's your own fault. Now, pick up your new baby, you're a mother now."

Jack polished his new purchase. He'd found it in an attic clearance sale and thought he'd be able to sell it at auction for a tidy profit. As he rubbed his new lamp the obvious happened. "Go on then," said the Genie, a strange Glaswegian accent making the words hard to decipher, "what are they?" In surprise Jack thought quickly. Wealth, a faithful partner and immortality sounded like sensible options. But genies liked to play tricks, so he'd need to think this through. Rather than ask to be rich he went opted to play it safe, "I wish that all my needs were catered for, for the rest of my life." "Ok, I can do that," said the Genie, inexplicably speaking with a Geordie accent. Jack knew that asking for his ideal woman needed far too much precision and the genie would find and exploit any gap he left, so he opted for a different approach. "I wish women would always love me," he declared. "Ok, I can do that," said the Genie, its words spoken in a clipped Ukrainian accent. Jack felt this was going well, but knew asking for immortality would curse him to perpetual old age. He nimbly circumvented that danger with his final request, "I wish I was forever young." "Ok, I can do that," said the Genie, in a surprisingly thick Tennessee accent. "Awesome," said Jack, "What happens next?" "Well," said the Genie, its obscure Patagonian accent unrecognisable, "all women love baby girls and instinctively look after their every need. Enjoy eternity, Janice." The Genie clicked its fingers in a camp French manner and disappeared, along with the lamp, Jack's workshop and his clothes. Jack gasped in horror even as he shrank in size, ending up unsteady on her feet, looking up at the knees of an attractive twenty-something woman in a short black skirt and grey tights. "Come on Janice," said the woman, picking her up, "lets get you into a nice clean diaper ready for bed."

"Hotel Echo, this is Charlie Zulu. We have the target in sight, permission to fire?" "Charlie Zulu please confirm positive ID." "Hotel Echo, this is Charlie Zulu. ID is positive, we have validation from the Agency. Permission to fire?" "Charlie Zulu you are weapons free, I repeat weapons free." "Hotel Echo, this is Charlie Zulu. Diaper is Dropped, I repeat Diaper is Dropped." "Thank you Charlie Zulu, dispatching the nanny service now."

Book 2 Chapter I Prince Andrew scowled as he looked across the table at his commanders. "What do you mean we lost at Austerlitz? We killed thousands of them!" "Yes, but they captured the field, and half our army with it," replied General Tchaikovsky. "Captured? But what are they doing with all those men?" queried the Prince. "Our spies tell us that they're creating immense nurseries and putting all of our men in diapers," said the General, "it's really hurting the morale of the rest of the army." Chapter II "Oh where is my love?" pined Kristina, "He promised to be home for Thanksgiving." "He's gone and got himself captured," said her Nanny, "the stupid man. You're better off without him." Kristina reacted with horror, "Captured? Oh, the terrible torment! I shall suffer with him; Nanny please impose on me the deprivations and horrors he's enduring so bravely." Nanny smiled, and went to fetch the diapers. Chapter III "I have gathered you all here to think of ways to relieve the torment of our poor boys at the front," declared Prince Andrew. "Now, who can suggest ways to stop the vicious French from turning our whole army into babies?" Four Counts, another Prince and an artillery captain looked at each other, then at Prince Andrew. "We have no idea," said the artillery captain, whose name nobody knew, "we can only suggest finding a way to assure our men can keep control of their penises." "Penis control?" pondered Prince Andrew, "Yes, that may do the trick. I'll write to my cousin in Germany, he's the inventive sort. Aleksei, send a letter at once to Prince Albert asking if he can suggest any penis control options." [Author's note: I made sure I had lots more than one sentence in each chapter this time. I hope you enjoy it.]

I am sorry I will try and write more sentences in each chapter in part two but if you read War and Peace you will find that Tolstoy only wrote three sentences in Chapter XXII in Book Five so I am averaging more than that chapter already so I think I should be ok for the moment and I can write longer next time.

Chapter 1 Anastasia burst into tears as she shared the terrible news, "Oh woe the French have invaded." "Never fear," replied Peter bravely, "I shall thwart their cowardly assault." Chapter 2 The French officer was tall, his clean boots showing he hadn't stepped into the mud of the battlefield, a polished patch on his bottom suggesting he'd been sat on a horse. He looked down and sneered at Peter, forced to kneel at his feet. "I laugh at your pitiful defense," he said, not actually laughing, "but the battle is lost and you are now my prisoner." Peter looked up tearfully and begged for mercy. "Mercy?" mocked the Frenchman, "You whine like a child. You are my prisoner and I shall humiliate you by treating you like a child. I shall put you in diapers and make you use them." [author's note: The French officer actually said this in French but I don't speak it so I've taken the liberty of writing in English. Also Russian nobles did speak French so Peter would have had no trouble understanding his terrible fate] Chapter 3 "Oh, my poor darling has been captured!" exclaimed Anastasia, "How shall I survive? I can do nothing now for myself" Anastasia's old Nanny overheard and reassured her. "It's ok sweetheart, I'll look after you.", she said, "I missed changing your diapers when you grew out of them, it'll be nice having you back in them again" [author's note: this isn't a reprise of the full Tolstoy yet, but part 2 will take me a while]

Sandra struggled futilely. She'd gone on a date with this bloke her friend had recommended. He was called Peter and her friend had said he was a bit geeky, a tad quiet but clearly the caring type. She hadn't banked on him wanting to care for her like this. Sure, the date had gone ok, dinner was nice, he was indeed a total geek but quite cute despite that. She'd agreed to join him for a post-dinner drink but when they'd taken a shortcut to the bar he recommended.. "Umm. Why are you pulling on a Spiderman mask?" she'd asked as he did exactly that. "I am Spiderman," he replied, "and you're caught in my web." Sandra had sighed. She hadn't thought he was an idiot as well as a geek. "Oh for fuck's sake," she said, "Enough. I'm going home." Pulling off his shirt and trousers as though he was a male stripper Peter had revealed a full Spiderman costume beneath his normal clothing. "Oh no," he smirked, "I don't think you are." Even as Sandra had turned and walked away she felt herself being wrapped by something constraining, around her arms and chest. She'd tried to duck out of it, shrug it off, but it hadn't helped, it seemed to stick to her. Like a spider's web. Now she was back at his apartment. Spacious and well designed, she'd have loved this apartment herself. She'd have decorated it differently though, some style and a better use of the space available. Not that the space was available to her, she was fastened to a wall by, well, a spider's web. That wasn't the only thing it fastened, for some reason after stripping her he hadn't raped her, just wrapped her loins in absorbent cloth, reminding her of a child's diaper. Worse, she now needed the toilet. That towelling wrapping her would be needed soon, if she couldn't get free, couldn't remove it. Her arms were loose but she couldn't pull the web away from the wall where it held her shoulders taut, couldn't pull down that thick thirsty padding at her waist. She pushed harder, and nothing happened. Nothing gave way, the sticky fastening held firm, refused to cede the control it forced upon her. Sandra realised she was out of options. She was about to wet herself, and she couldn't avoid it. At that moment Peter came back into view. He was still wearing that ridiculous costume, his face hidden from her view, the large black eyes now sinister as they turned their stare on her. He spoke, and confirmed her fears. "Spider silk is too strong for your childish struggles. Clearly you need those diapers. I'll have to make sure I keep a good supply of clean ones for you." Sandra sobbed as she comprehended her doom, condemned to diapers for however long she was held here, trapped and forced to wet herself, all control removed. Peter smiled beneath his mask. The public loved him; Sandra surely would soon. People were always grateful to those that held the keys to their comfort, and he knew that wetting herself was only the first humiliation Sandra would endure. Just wait until her diaper needed changing for other reasons. Yes, she'd welcome his care soon enough.

I bumped into this man and he diapered me and I hated it then wet myself and loved it and he went, 'this is wonderful, let me change you' and he gave me a bottle and I was a happy baby for the rest of my life.