BabyAnna

Ylanya let herself be led across the room, and sat on a strange device. Black, upholstered with padded black leather and long enough to lie on, she was sat on it sideways then Ellen bent down before her, grasped both of Ylanya's ankles and swung them up onto the padding. The device was wider by her feet than where she sat, and narrowed further behind her. Ellen pulled gently on Ylanya's shoulders to make her lie down, revealing that the padding was just the right length for a tall person, still wide enough to support shoulders and head. There seemed to be televisions at the end, strangely facing the ceiling, a confusing configuration. Ylanya tilted her head forward again as she felt something being pulled across the top of her chest, trapping her arms against her side. Ellen was fastening a sturdy strap that snapped into place near her arm. "What is that for? Why are you doing that?" she asked in confusion, trying but unable to sit up. Ellen didn't answer, just leaned down and drew another strap across Ylanya's waist. Ylanya wriggled and tried to escape but with her arms already restrained she could only use her legs for leverage, and Ellen swiftly sat across them both, the slim woman's weight enough to hold Ylanya down. "It's ok," Ellen said, breaking her silence with a gentle tone, "The straps are to keep you safe, stop you falling out and hurting yourself. But since you seem agitated by them, let's give you a sense of security." She reached down below the device and without sitting fully upright, wrapped something around Ylanya's wrist. A loud click and Ylanya realised her arm was now fastened to the waist strap, letting her bend her elbow only a little and forcing her hand to stay by her side. "Ellen, stop!" she demanded, "I don't like where.." She stopped at that point herself. Ellen had taken advantage of the open mouth to fill it, the taste of latex separating her teeth, holding her tongue to the bottom of her mouth. Ylanya could have screamed and made noise but surprise left her speechless, stopped her even resisting as the gag was strapped in place, soft leather bindings on both sides going above and below her ears, more clicks as something locked them into place. Ellen moved around and fastened Ylanya's other wrist, then stepped away briefly. She came back carrying a bag and put it down near Ylanya's feet, then pulled off each of Ylanya's shoes, the slingback heels sliding easily off her nylon clad feet. Stepping forwards Ellen pulled Ylanya's skirt up to her waist, causing a shiver in the supine woman. Ylanya didn't resist as her tights and panties were pulled down, knowing she had little choice, knowing that this had always been likely. The only things she didn't know were whether she wanted it or not, and what specifically was about to happen. She'd known that when she signed up for this a week ago. "Stress relief," promised the advert, "Escape your responsibilities and properly relax." She liked the sound of letting go for a while, letting someone else worry about everything, having someone care for her every need. The advert had hinted at massage, suggested a soothing experience, offered tantalising inferences that a little more than that was part of the deal. Ylanya would never have visited a prostitute, didn't want to pay for sex, hadn't even slept with a woman, but a soothing massage that included intimacy? That was ok. Wasn't it? Her thoughts returned sharply to the present as she felt Ellen's arm reaching below her knees, drawing them up. Ylanya decided she was paying enough for this, may as well co-operate and enjoy it, raised her legs by herself. "Thank you," said Ellen, "You'll enjoy this. Come on, let's see if we can go all the way." She drew Ylanya's knees past her hips, then her waist, kept going until they were above Ylanya's shoulders. By now Ylanya's bottom and hips were in the air, her body in a strange vertical foetal position. "And relax," said Ellen, "Everything else will be easy now." She lowered Ylanya's legs slowly back to the flat surface and smiled at the confusion on her client's face. "Yes, I've put something there," she said, "Let's get it safely fastened and we'll be ready to go." Reaching down Ellen pulled thick padding up between Ylanya's legs, forcing her thighs apart, her feet now needing the full width of the upholstered support below them. She watched Ylanya's face go from confusion to realisation to shock, then back to confusion. By then she'd finished fastening the hefty disposable diaper in place and was already lowering Ylanya's dress to drape over it, the white plastic no longer visible but an unnatural bulge revealing its presence. Stepping back she laughed at the noises Ylanya was now frantically making and made shushing noises of her own. "Oh, I know," said Ellen, "You're an adult, you don't need diapers, you're not incontinent." She smiled nastily, held up a sleek gadget, pressed a button on it. The device supporting Ylanya whirred beneath her and started to move, converting from a couch she was lying on into a chair, raising her from the waist into a reclined seating position. The televisions she'd seen earlier dropped from overhead in front of her, filling her vision, and she felt headphones pressing against her ears, holding her head in position so she couldn't look away. "At least," chuckled Ellen, "not yet. But twelve hours of hypnosis videos will change that. Oh, stop squirming. It's ok, I'll change you. Celebrate, you get to relax now - no more nasty adult responsibilities for you, just like you wanted. Ever." Ylanya tried to scream in horror but the televisions lit up, sound filled her ears and.. it was too late now.

Chapter 4 Julie had spent the rest of dinner in something of a daze, her mind overwhelmed by what she'd just done. Not just wetting herself, but on purpose, and to help someone else. She recalled the others making small talk, going over the next day's activities, discussing the shopping options in a nearby town. None of it seemed real to her, reality was a warm wet feeling around her loins, a constant reminder when she shifted position, embarrassment and shyness when someone caught her eye. As the meal finished the others stood, followed Miriam through to another room. Daphne swivelled the table away from Sandy and helped her stand, then looked across at Julie. "Come on, you'll be fine," she said, "look, Sandy's coping." Sandy gave her a brave looking smile and Julie realised she'd been ignoring the poor girl since taking her seat. She stood up, smiled back and said, "Lets join the others. I suspect they'll be in a similar state soon." Daphne took Sandy's hand and led her from the room, and Julie laughed as she saw Sandy waddle slightly. That laugh stuck in her throat when she started to follow them. The diaper had somehow grown between her legs, swelling to absorb its new contents, and that interrupted her normal smooth gait. Julie gritted her teeth, focussed on walking normally and went through the door. She found Miriam and Alice sat on comfortable looking chairs, Miriam's reclined with a raised footrest. Daphne was already joining them, having led Sandy to where Ellie and Jane were sat on what Julie could only describe as oversized baby recliners. Just as with the changing tables, there were six of them, so she decided to play ball and picked one by her new friends. As she sank into it she felt her feet rise off the floor and realised it wouldn't be easy to stand up again, but it was comfortable and she welcomed the chance to recover from the traumas of the dining room. "Now girls," said Miriam, "We always have two members of staff on duty at all times. Anybody on duty is forbidden alcohol, to protect our babies." Julie nodded to herself, that made sense. Miriam continued, "As you're all new, Alice, Daphne and I are all on duty while you go through your induction period. But you're not, so if you like, we can offer you a bottle of wine as a treat for making it through a difficult first day." All of the girls perked up at that. Only Jane held back, and asked, "You don't mean a bottle of wine do you, you mean a bottle of wine." Julie looked at her in confusion. That didn't make sense! Yet Miriam smiled, and nodded at her, "Very perspicacious Jane," she said, "but would you like one anyway?" Jane thought for a moment, then visibly shrugged. "Sure," she said, "I think you want us all to relax, and this will certainly help." Miriam's smile broadened and she gestured to Daphne, "Could you perhaps help our young ladies with their drinks, save them having to stand?" she asked. Daphne stood and went over to a cabinet, its wood veneer polished and glossy, and pulled a tray from it. Julie realised they must have planned ahead, as there were four bottles on it, each the size of an athletic drinking bottle, their glass sides showing a deep red liquid inside. Daphne passed one to each of the girls, and as Julie received hers she heard a startled gasp from one of the others. Looking at the bottle she immediately understood why, but also comprehended why it didn't matter. Of course it had a rubber teat on it; she should have guessed. Julie put the teat into her mouth, sucked in a mouthful of what she rapidly assessed as rather nice red wine, and paused. Jane had guessed! Julie sighed, and felt strangely naive as she sat there, rocking in an oversized baby chair, damp diaper squidging beneath her, sucking on a baby's bottle. A couple of hours later, the strong wine still leaving her light headed, Julie had been helped from her chair by Alice and they'd all gone through to the changing room. Julie hadn't used her diaper again, and didn't know if the others had. Nobody had said anything, although Sandy was looking a little distressed. "I know it's early," Miriam had said, "but all our babies get a nice early night. So time for you all to get a last change and dressed for bed." Julie welcomed the chance to escape the wet diaper she'd been wearing for a while now, so offered to go first. Alice took her hand and led her to a table. "We'll help you tonight," she said, "as you'll all be tired and maybe a little tipsy. Now, as you'll be going to bed after this we can remove your outfits, change your diapers and then put you straight into your jammies." Ellie helped Alice pull Julie's dress and diaper shirt off her, and Sandy pulled down her tights. Julie stepped out of them, sat on the table and swung her legs up. "Would you like the wrist restraints again Julie?" asked Alice. Julie blushed and shook her head, but reached out to find Ellie's hand, wanting hers held while Jane untaped her diaper. As the front was lowered she expected to be rolled over but was instead asked by Alice to lift her hips. "The approach we took earlier works with all babies, even the uncooperative ones," explained Alice, "but when a baby is well behaved it's much quicker if they help a little. Now, keep those hips raised Julie and we'll wipe you clean." Julie found the position uncomfortable but felt it better to abide. At least she was free from that plastic torment; it had become clammy and uncomfortable, a key factor in her desire for a change. When she did eventually lower her hips she almost raised them again in surprise. It felt like she'd dropped down onto a towel and not a clean new diaper. She looked at Alice in surprise. "No diaper?" she asked. Alice withheld a laugh. "Oh, yes," she said, "it's a cloth diaper. We like using them overnight, that extra padding helps our babies embrace their status and they can last the whole night without a change." Julie gripped Ellie's hand tight and received a quick squeeze in response, followed by a gentle caress across her forehead. She heard Alice talking to the others about the diaper now being fastened around her. "As you can see, we're using a disposable liner. That will help keep any wetness away from Julie's skin, and also makes the diaper easier to clean should she mess overnight." Julie started to sit up at that, alarmed by the suggestion, but Ellie drew her back down. Instead she listened as Alice continued, "Some cloth diapers need folding but we're using tailored ones that have a similar design to the disposables. So you just draw it up here, and then use diaper pins here, here and.. here." At each of the closing words Julie felt the diaper fasten tighter around her and realised she was being pinned into it, something that even after the past few hours seemed to make her feel more infantile. She tried to think why that was but couldn't find a solution. "Why does this make me feel more like a baby than even using that disposable?" she asked Alice, who gave her a serious look but didn't reply. "Now Jane, if you could help with these," asked Alice, and Julie felt her ankles being raised again and something being pulled up her legs. She looked down and saw a large mound of towelling below her waist and a pair of plastic panties being pulled up towards it. "Lift your hips again," requested Alice, so Julie leaned back again and complied. She felt the panties being drawn over the top of her diaper and around her waist, then felt fingers running around the waistband and the leg openings. "A quick check that everything's inside," said Alice, "and we're done. You can relax now Julie. To answer your question it's because diaper pins are inextricably linked to babies and the diapers they're going to use. Incontinent teens and adults almost always use disposables but even when they do wear washables they invariably use pull-ons or Velcro fasteners." "Only babies," she reiterated, looking down and making sure Julie was painfully aware who she meant by that, "get pinned into diapers." Julie had let her hips sink back to the changing table while Alice was speaking. She grimaced but said nothing to that final statement and tried again to sit up. This time Ellie helped her, gave her a quick hug and turned to Daphne who was holding out a new piece of clothing. Julie couldn't see clearly as Ellie took it from Daphne, shook it loose from its folds and showed it to Jane who looked across at Julie and remarked, "Oh, you'll look so cute in that!" They approached the table and started to slide soft cotton up Julie's legs, then took her hands and helped her down from the table. As she stood Julie worried that she was stood on her new clothing, before realising that was intended: it was a footed sleepsuit, which Ellie quickly zipped up her back. Alice called for attention and showed the group a small padlock. "Idle fingers can get into trouble at night," she said, "so we find it best to remove temptation." She stepped in behind Julie, who a moment later heard a small click and guessed her zip would not now come undone. "I'm locked in?" she asked, her voice shaking slightly. She wasn't planning to remove her sleepsuit anyway, but a lock felt strangely oppressive, the element of choice removed, her subservient status subtly stated. "It changes things, doesn't it," said Miriam drily, the question clearly rhetorical. "It's such a tiny thing, but we add it at the end of the first day and give our babies something to think about as they fall asleep." Julie looked at Miriam, for the first time seeing the woman behind the facade. Miriam enjoyed this, she realised, more even than the business success it gave her. There was a power dynamic, and Miriam liked holding all the power. Miriam saw the look, smiled at her, said nothing. They both knew, no words were necessary. Julie shivered and looked away. "Aren't you just lovely," said Alice, "Now, lets who's next." Julie welcomed the distraction, threw her energy into helping with the others. With surprise she discovered Ellie and Jane had both used their diapers at some point; they'd said nothing, drawn no attention to the fact. Before long all four girls were in thick diapers, a warm sleepsuit hiding them from view, the tiny locks holding everything in place. Julie looked at her new colleagues and laughed. "We actually look like we're just having a sleepover," she said, "if you didn't know what's underneath." Alice asked them to come with her and led them down a panelled corridor into a new wing of the house. The girls followed with small steps, the thick padding forcing them all to waddle a little and the sleepsuits offering little grip on the polished wooden floors. They emerged in a large room they hadn't seen before, this one definitely a dormitory. Closed curtains and subdued lighting stopped Julie seeing the room in detail, but it was impossible to miss the beds lining each of the two long walls that stretched away from her. They looked like wooden babies' cribs, painted white, a hint of delicate patterns on the head and tailboards. But they were adult sized, and all four girls stopped as they realised these would be their beds. "Jane?" invited Alice, standing by one of the cribs, the nearest side folded down and open. Jane walked over and lay on the mattress, watching calmly as Alice brought up the side panel, a catch at the top making a loud clunk as it closed. "It's not impossible to open these from inside," revealed Alice, "but we've fitted simple alarms and you really don't want to know what happens if those go off and we don't find an emergency." "What if it opens by itself?" asked Sandy nervously. "That wont happen," assured Alice, "That loud sound as it closed tells us it's locked in place and needs deliberate action to open. Come here, you can see it yourself." Alice had walked to the next crib, and showed Sandy the mechanism at the top before inviting her to lay down. Sandy looked back at Julie as if seeking reassurance, so Julie gestured to her to lay down and let Alice close the side. As she heard the confirming clunk she walked to the next crib herself, and saw Ellie moving to an empty one of her own. The mattress was yielding and comfortable, but felt firm enough to support Julie as she slept. It had crinkled a little as she lay on it, and she assumed a protective cover was there for the unlikely event her thick diapers failed in their job. She looked up at Alice as the side was raised, and a hefty sound confirmed her own crib was now firmly closed, securing her until morning. Looking out she saw Daphne dropping baby style bottles in each of the occupied cribs, their contents a clear liquid. "Daphne is giving you all a bottle of water," said Miriam, who had entered while Julie was being put to bed. "It's entirely optional whether you drink it, but as you're now confined to your cribs for the night we want to be sure you wont dehydrate, so do please have a drink if you get thirsty. "Any questions before we dim the lights and let you get some sleep?" "Uhm," said Sandy, then stopped. "Yes Sandy?" asked Miriam, "It's OK, what do you need?" "Can I have Mr Speckles? He's my bear, he's in my bag," said Sandy, "I mean, I sleep with him normally and if we're babies we should have cuddly toys anyway. Shouldn't we?" Julie had nearly laughed at Sandy's initial request but felt it was a good point. She'd left her soft toys at home when she went to college so hadn't thought of them here, but if they were being treated as babies.. Julie looked through the bars of her crib at Miriam, who frowned. Sandy saw this and panicked. "I'm sorry," she gabbled, "I just wanted.." "Hush child," said Miriam, disregarding Sandy as an unwanted distraction. Julie saw Sandy quail at this put-down, and felt her own dismay. More than anything else that day, Miriam casually dismissing Sandy as any adult treats a noisy child made her realise how Miriam perceived them, revealed their true status during this induction week. "Daphne," said Miriam, "could you come here a moment?" Julie watched as Daphne approached Miriam, looking strangely pale even in the poorly lit room. "I'm sorry," said Daphne, "I forgot. I'll.." Miriam sighed, and cut Daphne short. "We can discuss this tomorrow," she said, "lets not keep our girls up any longer tonight." At this point Julie felt a soft nudge in her back, and turning found Alice poking a scraggy plush sheep through the crib bars at her. Alice winked but said nothing, and Julie realised this wasn't the time for questions. She accepted the cuddly sheep and held it close, turning to look back at Daphne. She'd regained some colour in her cheeks but still looked very concerned. She took another soft toy from Alice and carried it over to Jane while Alice passed one through to Ellie. Miriam had approached Sandy's crib and knelt beside it. "We don't want to go through your belongings," she said, "Will you be OK with this fluffy fellow tonight?" Sandy responded quietly. "Yes," she said, "Thank you. Goodnight." Julie saw Sandy had been given a toy of her own, and was looking shocked by the outcome of her question. "Good girl," said Miriam, standing back up. "Goodnight all of you, and sleep well." She left the room, Daphne and Alice following, and straight after most of the lights turn off, the remaining ones dimming enough to leave only vague outlines of the cribs in the room. Julie thought back to that night, how, exhausted by her morning travelling and an emotionally challenging day, she'd quickly fallen asleep. She remembered waking in the darkness, the evening's wine finally making its demands on her bladder, and taking the gamble that a wet diaper would be easier to sleep with than a full bladder. After all, babies slept in wet diapers all the time. In hindsight she'd made a good decision as, although damp and distressed, she'd drifted off again, and indeed, slept like a baby.

“…and hit Compile, and…” She sat back, watched the text scroll up her screen. As it stopped she leaned forward, copied the output onto a USB key designed to look like a pacifier and stuck it into the mouth of her humanoid robot. “New firmware detected,” said a warm female voice, “Installing. Complete. Testing functions.” She waited patiently as the robot moved its legs, each in turn, then its arms. She’d dressed it as a nanny, or at least how she imagined they’d dressed a hundred years before. “Tests complete,” she heard, “Initiating main program.” The robot stood up, its long grey skirt falling below its knees and hiding the lace beneath. Its head turned and the cameras she’d put where its eyes should be flexed slightly, showing they were adjusting their focus. “Baby identified. Initiating care routine,” said the warm female voice. She sat back in surprise. There were no babies here, just her and the robot. Unless… Quickly she turned to the computer, checked her program. As she scrolled rapidly through she felt the robot take her arm. “No, stop. I’m not a baby,” she told it, but it ignored her, pulled her away from the computer and off her chair. She knew why. She’d been testing its motor functions, its ability to lift and carry a person, whether it was strong enough to cope with an unruly child. The firmware she’d used had a timer, would shut the robot down after just ten minutes, but had infant recognition disabled, so that she could test it herself during that period. She’d removed the timer when she added the care modules, but realised she hadn’t re-enabled its ability to differentiate between babies and adults. The robot didn’t care. It had been programmed to strip, clean, diaper and feed, and it had already laid her on the floor, stripped off her jeans and underwear, used a warm wet sponge to assure she was clean and ready. She saw a glimmer of hope. There were no diapers that could fit her. Even as she saw the robot look around and realise this she remembered the logic she’d included. “No diapers available; placing order,” she heard, as she was picked up. She saw her web browser start up, the robot’s wireless connection successfully controlling her computer, finding an adult diaper site and placing an order. 200 diapers? How long was this going to happen? Carried through to the bathroom she struggled to free herself but the robot was implacable and calm, just held her firmly without hurting her, then pinned her to the floor as it reached for a towel. “Improvising diaper,” she heard as it wrapped the towel around her. She knew it would take her to the kitchen next, cut a bin bag into makeshift waterproof panties, strap her to a chair and feed her some lunch. There was just one thing left to try. She knew it wouldn’t work, trusted in her programming. She had to try through. “Nanny switch off,” she said in a firm clear voice. “Switch off command received,” she heard, and sighed with relief, “Command came from baby. Ignoring command.” She groaned and relaxed in the robot’s arms. She’d done everything she could, it wasn’t her fault now. Someone else would have to rescue her. Hopefully not too quickly.

There will not be more of this story. It was exploring and subverting the 'kidnapped and put in diapers' trope, as is another I recently posted.

I knew he was going to rape me. I just didn't know what to do about it. I stared at him, determined not to cry, refusing to scream or panic. He ignored the hatred in my eyes, just sat there, actually started cleaning his nails with the large knife he held. "Undress." The command was firm. He didn't shout, the knife blade flashing in the light of the bedside lamp gave his deep gravelly voice the extra weight it needed. I resisted, just stood there, wishing I'd walked away when I had the chance. He was attractive enough, short dark hair not quite matching his stubbly beard, the edges straight, suggesting he'd intended that look rather than being too lazy to shave. Maybe both. It was a cool day but he'd been wearing only a thin knitted jumper, its deep green V neck revealing hair on his chest, narrow arms showing muscle definition you don't get in an office job. Of course I'd reacted warmly to his approach, who wouldn't. Someone sensible is who. Someone that wouldn't get grabbed by the shoulders, wouldn't be thrown into a van, would've avoided the metal cuffs on the wrists, let alone the ankles. They'd pinched, I was still sore, but at least they were off now. Nothing held me now. Just the room, its locked door, a window I couldn't see how to open and him, sat there, his knife stopping its motion as he frowned. "Undress." This time the command was a little louder, enough to be more forceful, but still very controlled. He didn't feel the need to shout, seemed to know he didn't have to bully me, still didn't make an explicit threat with the knife. I was scared of it anyway, wanted to keep him sat there, wished desperately to survive this. I started to take off my sweater. Chunky cable-knit, it hid the shape of my body, only hinted at the curves beneath. I wanted to keep them hidden but there were few options, if I was going to undress. I didn't bother to plead, beg for my freedom, make demands; I'd tried that in the van and he'd ignored me, a small shake of his head showing that he was listening but that it wasn't going to work. No point humiliating myself further now. Not like that anyway. It was humiliating enough lifting the hem of the sweater, revealing how high the waist was on my skirt, the neat buttoned blouse tucked into it. By then the sweater was above my shoulders, blocking my view, letting me hide my face. I paused, fought back the tears. Some victories are tiny, invisible, but still important. Lifting the sweater fully over my head I lowered my arms, pulled it down them, folded it neatly and put it on the table by the bed. He seemed amused that I'd stopped to fold it, or maybe at something else. I hadn't even thought about it until his cruel smile, not wanting to throw it on the floor, not wanting to touch the bed, refusing to go near the chair he was sat in to put it on that. He said nothing, just watched, the knife back at his nails. I hoped he'd get distracted by me, drop it, hurt himself before he could hurt me. Squatting down I pulled the hem of my skirts aside, unzipped one of my boots, the other. Standing I lifted a leg behind me, steadied myself against the table, used the other hand to pull the boot off. I thought about throwing it at him, realised he was thinking the same thing, saw the almost imperceptible shake of his head. I guess he was right, it wouldn't do any damage, just annoy him. I didn't want to annoy him. The other boot came off, both placed neatly below the table, my nylon covered toes sinking into the carpet. It was a nice carpet, better than I had in my own house, suggested he had wealth and taste. I'd picked a good man, except he'd picked me, and my choice had ceased to matter. Normally I'd undo the button on my skirt, slide that and the petticoats beneath over my hips, let them fall to the floor around me. I'd done that in front of other men, sacrificing the sexiness of a slow undress to give them a laugh at the circle of satin, lace and netting, me stood in the middle giving a quick pirouette. I didn't want to make this man laugh, wanted to delay my rape, needed to keep my clothes on as long as I could. But the knife kept flashing, its cruel edge turning towards me from time to time, keeping me tense. But I wasn't going to give him a slow sexy strip, had no music to wriggle and swing my hips to, didn't want to arouse him. I looked at his crotch. I didn't mean to, it just followed naturally from that thought. His slacks were loose, nicely tailored, no belt holding them up. Nothing inside pushing them up either; maybe he had problems. It might be that this was his act of desperation, all I needed to do was keep calm, avoid insulting him, wait for the moment to suggest he just lets me go, that we forget about it. Looking up at his face I realised he'd seen my glance, faint vestiges of a smile showing his amusement, no signs of desperation, instead revealing how relaxed he was. Well, he was the one with the knife. I surprised him with my next move. I almost surprised myself, the speed with which I made the decision and acted on it. Reaching under my skirt I closed my hands, grabbing the petticoats beneath and tugging firmly. They gathered into a single elasticated waistband that stretched and slid down, my skirt folding flat against my thighs as the netting and lace gathered by my feet. I stepped out of it immediately, picking up the petticoats, folding them as much as you can and putting them on my sweater. He seemed shocked by this, but I couldn't tell why. Maybe the pace with which I'd acted, the nonchalant way I'd stepped out of them and folded them up, maybe even that I'd even been wearing them. Certainly they weren't in fashion, hadn't been since my grandmother was out seducing my grandfather, but for a party they still added a lovely shape to a skirt, gave a man something fun to fight through before claiming his prize. Tonight the fight was one-sided, the prize wouldn't be given. It's cheating to bring a knife to a seduction, takes all the fun away. For me, anyway. Maybe it was the only thing that worked for him. Clean his nails, violate a woman, hopefully end the night cutting his own manhood off. Not much of a man, raping a woman. Too much of a man, right now. I sighed, reached behind me and unbuttoned my skirt. It wasn't designed to hang with no petticoats, immediately fell to the floor, a crumpled mess of shocking yellow cotton. Sometimes you want to be bright, stand out, draw attention. I'd drawn attention tonight, found a man, made it home with him. Just not how I'd planned. Bending at the knees I picked it up, folded it, started a new pile. Glancing back I could see he was looking a little confused. Maybe he hadn't anticipated the slip underneath, cream satin still hiding my thighs, obscuring the curve of my hips, stopping him from leering at my body where they all met. I'd worn it to keep the netting from scratching my legs, cheap petticoats less comfortable than they look, becoming downright nasty if they get caught between your legs. I wondered how he'd do it, whether he'd want me on my back looking into his face, sweat dripping into my eyes, or on my front, avoiding my gaze, taking his pleasure on an anonymous object, reducing me to a toy for him to break. I nearly cried then. Instead I closed my eyes, squeezed the tears away, focussed on undoing my blouse. I found my fingers trembling, a physical betrayal of my nerves, the stress I was feeling. If he noticed he said nothing, just holding the knife casually now, watching me, patiently waiting. It seemed to take hours to undo the buttons. There were only seven and two hadn't even been fastened. Each button was another step nearer to nakedness, another protective barrier removed, another reminder why I was taking my clothes off. Bad enough to dragged here, horrible watching that knife, terrible not knowing what he intended to do with it but the worse torture was being made to strip myself, preparing a meal he would consume. That led me to another thought as I folded the blouse, put it on my skirt, started to lift my slip. I'd been assuming he'd rape me, wanted what every man wants. What'd I'd gladly have shared with him, had he flirted, danced with me, whispered the right words late in the evening. Maybe he didn't want that. Maybe he did want me on my front, and wanted his pleasure elsewhere. Or wanted to kneel on my shoulders, pinning me down, a distasteful act leaving an unpleasant taste. What would I do then? Could I let that happen, avoid the desire to bite down, hard, cause him the pain his knife would surely then give to me? As my slip lifted over my face I looked at where I was thinking of biting, realised it looked different, that he'd woken up. With a sinking feeling deep inside, I knew that I'd just given him full sight of my nearly naked body, just underwear protecting my modesty but my raised arms stretching me slimmer, breasts rising a little, womanly curves no doubt exactly as he'd fantasised. I wished I'd worn stockings instead of tights, a garter belt and stocking tops might have finished him off, given me a reprieve instead of getting him firmly prepared. I sighed, put the slip on the table, stood there, covering my face with my hands. No point hiding my body, he'd already seen that, I just didn't want to look at him, didn't want him to see my expression, used my elbows to hide my cleavage. I would've turned away but didn't want him behind me, didn't trust that vicious blade at my back. He waited a few moments, I'm not sure why, then spoke for the third time. "Undress." This time I couldn't help myself. I begged, stamped my foot, picked up my skirt and blouse and threw them at him. As they flared out in the air then fluttered to the floor between us I sank down to my knees, started swearing at him, stared fearfully at the knife as he lifted it. "Undress." One track mind this guy, but it's a track I couldn't escape. I wanted to attack him, hurt him, force him to end this, but I was too scared. I could still get through this, make it out alive, go through nothing I hadn't already enjoyed in the past, even if I wasn't going to enjoy it this time. Steeling myself I stood up, turned side on to him, slid my tights and undies down in one quick motion, kicked them off my feet. Turning back I pulled my bra straps off my shoulders, pulled it down to my waist, rotated it so the back fastening was in front and removed it completely. I'm not pert and lithe any more but I'm not ashamed of my body. My hips have broadened, giving me the classic hourglass look despite the extra inches on my waist. My breasts have grown a little larger too, enough to offset the small sag, small enough still to be pretty. I knew he'd like what he could see but there was no point hiding it, no need to risk him getting cross at my modesty. So I just stood there, arms by my side, glared at him and waited for him to get his fill. It was his turn to surprise me. He barely glanced at my body, just lifted his knife, pointed it at me. As I shuddered he flicked the point towards the bed, an obvious unspoken command. I chose to obey; it would happen anyway, this option didn't require initial pain. I showed my displeasure by lying down with my legs straight, ankles crossed, then crossed my arms and kept glaring at him. He stood up, stretched awkwardly, his jumper lifting slightly to reveal a firm narrow waist. Definitely a waste of a man, this, and wouldn't he be a popular little boy in prison. Walking to the foot of the bed he took one of my ankles, the gentle but firm hold of a confident man, and drew it away from the other. I let it happen, he'd win any contest of strength even without the knife, and that was still in his other hand. He put it down now, by my foot, the first time since the cuffs came off that he'd been without it. Not that it made a difference, a second later something cold was around my ankle, a loud click breaking the silence. While I looked down and mentally processed the leather cuff that held my leg in place, realising it had a rope leading off the back of the bed, my other ankle was gently taken and pulled in the other direction. Another click, another cuff. At least I was on my back, that closed off one bad option. I hadn't expected to be tied, wasn't into bondage, didn't think I liked it. Knew I didn't want it now, but inside my head a rogue thought suggested that this might make things easier, the chance to resist removed. While I berated myself for that thought he come up the bed, took a wrist and fastened it above my head. Too late now to resist even if I wanted to, and he ignored my glare as he moved back around the bed and finished fastening me spreadeagle, naked on the bed, vulnerable to his whim. Given the state of his trousers as he leaned over to tie my wrists his whim wasn't lacking either. As he stepped away from the bed I closed my eyes. This was going to be nasty, however it went, but at least the waiting was over. Maybe he'd let me go, maybe he wouldn't. I wanted to know, didn't dare ask, couldn't see a good way through that conversation anyway. Not that there'd be a conversation, he'd only said one word the entire time; limited vocabulary this guy. Maybe he put his tongue to other uses? I finally screamed, a curse at myself for that thought, strangely more angry with my reaction than what he was doing. He turned quickly, reached over, placed a finger against my lips. An admonishment you'd give to a child, strangely empathetic, as though he knew my distress, regretted it. Better I guess than the knife being used, but he'd taken that off the bed, put it on the table, ignored it now I was fastened tight. Instead he knelt, reached under the bed. I closed my eyes, I didn't want to see what he was retrieving, it couldn't be good. He was into restraints, was he also into sadism? Was he getting a whip, a paddle, something to beat me with, or a sex toy, something to insert into me. Maybe it was just lubricant, a desire to make things more comfortable. More comfortable for him anyway, I wasn't going to be finding this comfortable at all. It was indeed something to stick inside me. I'm not sure what, because he put his hand over my eyes, pushed my head back, flat on the bed, applied enough pressure to make me know to stay there. I behaved, let him use a finger to open my jaw, felt something being inserted. Well, I'd made a noise, he'd responded with a gag. Something plastic, filling my mouth, narrower as it passed my lips, letting me almost close my mouth. I could have spit it out, but he could have tied it in place; we compromised with me leaving it where he'd put it. That gave me the other answer. While the gag wasn't pleasant it didn't taste bad, which meant I'd escaped the two worse options already. Of course, legs spread asunder was a clue in itself; he could proceed now at his leisure, and he'd certainly be the only one getting any pleasure even there. Indeed, moments later he climbed onto the bed, kneeled between my thighs. I didn't want to look, even when I felt the material of his trousers rubbing against my naked legs. Great, I was going to be raped by a man that couldn't even be bothered to undress first. I turned my head to the side so that I wouldn't have to look into his face, kept my eyes shut, kept the gag in place. He caressed my face, brushed hair away from my ear, leaned over me and gave me a gentle kiss on my cheek. I trembled and froze in place, probably made him smile, a vibrating statue beneath him. When he sat back up, reached beneath my bottom and lifted my hips from the bed I tensed up. I couldn't stop this, but I didn't want it; I just had no choice. He'd been gentle up to now but I didn't expect that to continue. How can rape be gentle? He was gentle, but it wasn't rape. Instead he lowered my hips again, my body otherwise untouched. I would say my dignity intact but that was shattered by his next action, pulling material up between my legs, then up around my waist. I turned to look and see what was happening, the gag falling from my mouth as I gasped in shock and watched, speechless, as he fastened a cloth diaper onto me. Looking up he saw me, smiled, and leaned forward again. I watched him reach beside my head, saw him pick up the gag, realised it was an oversized pacifier, ideal for keeping an adult quiet. He put it back in my mouth to keep me quiet, used his thumb to softly squeeze the tip of my nose then leaned back again. Aghast I saw him retrieve a sheet of folded plastic, felt him lift my hips again and slide it beneath, watched as he unfolded it into waterproof panties, poppers securing them around my diaper, around me. As he switched off the light, unlocked the door and left the room I realised I might not be getting raped after all. I didn't know what I was getting, but unless he came back soon, the list would include "wet". Somehow, I think he intended that. He'd better. It was what I'd paid him for. It was going to be a fun weekend; I relaxed, smiled around my pacifier, sought welcome sleep.

He applied the safety by releasing the trigger and assuring it returned to its non-firing position. That was a conscious action by him, as he's well trained and knows that validating correct function of a firearm is essential for firearms safety and he had no wish to cause any issues for the police. This story is complete; you are welcome to choose your own interpretation of the motives of the deceased and their relationship to the potential victim, and the subsequent consequences of this episode.

Frank applied the safety, ejected the magazine, cleared the chamber and put his pistol on the table. The Glock 26 looked like a toy gun, its compressed form stumpy and ugly, but he was glad he'd had it on him. Hearing someone enter the house he stepped away from the table, turned to face the door and raised his hands. "Police! Stop there. Hands up, keep them where I can see them. Don't move!" The police officer was young, frightened, his service weapon pointing at Frank, the shouted commands all unnecessary. Frank stood patiently, his heart rate only slightly elevated, his breathing steady and a calm expression on his face. When the officer stopped for breath he spoke, a clear neutral tone. "My weapon is on the table, unloaded. I have a concealed carry permit which I can show to you. The body is in the kitchen." A second police officer entering the room heard the words, took control from her younger partner. "Thank you sir, but we're going to have to detain you while we validate this. Turn around slowly, place your hands against the wall." Frank sighed but did as he was asked. Tensions were high, cooperation merely inconvenient. He anticipated his wrists being brought down behind his back, didn't resist, allowed the cuffs to go on. He knew he could remove them if he wanted to, but why upset these two. They were just doing their job. Paperwork checked, an apology from the female police officer, an apology from her lieutenant, an apology even from the DA who had inexplicably arrived on the scene, Frank sat in the back on an ambulance he hadn't called, reassuring a paramedic that he was fine, the contusions were just grazes, no they weren't from the police. Moments later a police detective climbed into the ambulance, the DA following him, pointed stares encouraging the paramedic to find it important to be elsewhere. "You're claiming it's self defence?" asked the detective. Frank didn't want to repeat his story, knew it would be necessary. The attack from behind, a needle skittering across the kitchen floor, some sort of blunt club swinging for his head, realising the door was locked and he couldn't run. He'd drawn his weapon and shot immediately, no warning; if he'd had time for that he wouldn't have needed to shoot at all. The DA nodded. She'd worked enough concealed carry cases, knew how rarely those weapons were misused, how reluctant the bearers were to even draw them. She'd also been shown the syringe, retrieved from beneath a counter, in an evidence bag, its contents already heading to the lab. She'd been shown something else too, and waved to someone outside the ambulance to bring it over. "Is this your bag?" she asked, pointing at the black canvas hold-all. Frank shook his head. "Not one of mine," he said, "I don't have any that look like that." "Well," said the DA, "it contains leather restraints, some sort of harness, mittens that lock to the wrist. If I didn't know better I'd say it's bondage gear - or a kidnap kit. Any reason you can think someone might want to kidnap you?" Frank's eyes widened as he looked up at the DA, looked across at the bag, stared in confusion at the detective. "No," he replied, "who.. why.. what?" The detective smiled at his confusion, cruelly added to it. "So you can confirm that the clothing in the bag isn't yours?" "What clothing?" asked Frank, "What was in the bag?" "Hard to describe," said the detective, "but if I had to I'd call it a baby's romper suit. In your size." Frank went white, his expression changing, then closed his eyes as in deep thought. The detective and DA looked at each other, raised eyebrows, realising this wasn't a random attack. "So Frank," asked the DA, "tell us about the other thing in the bag. The adult sized disposable diaper."

Thank you for the constructive feedback. I'm not sure I set out to write a horror story, but this will be helpful should I try a more considered entry in that genre.

Thank you Cute_Kitten, you've got it. Authors take pride in causing an emotional response in their readers, and in a story as short as this there's very little time and opportunity to achieve that. Announcing up front that this story has a twist or that it's horror would be a pointless spoiler that destroys the whole emotional impact of the story. Similarly adding a tag gives away the whole plot, takes that surprise away, makes reading the story entirely pointless - even for those that will enjoy the twist. I'm one of those. My 'first person' stories are frequently fictional autobiography; this is a curious inversion in that I identify with the wife rather than the protagonist. To me this is a horror story, but the horror is not in the twist or the ending. The horror is the use of infantile language, the selfishness of the protagonist, the situation the poor wife finds herself in. The outcome of the story is my natural response to that horror. That others interpret it otherwise is the privilege of the reader, and I thoroughly support their choice to empathise with the protagonist and go through what for him (and them) is an emotional betrayal. As an author I can only consider this a writing success. Adding spoilers would damage my own and also others' interpretation of this short sordid tale, and eliminate the emotional reaction to the story. Why would I do that?

Chapter 3 Julie looked wide eyed at Ellie, wondering how she'd respond to the new moniker. Ellie, sitting up on the table, just shrugged and waited patiently for Sandy. They rapidly dressed her, thick white tights, a simple cotton diaper shirt with four snaps at the crotch, and what turned out to be a pinafore dress, a pretty baby blue, barely reaching the top of Ellie's thighs when she stood. "Those are toddler clothes," commented Julie, "I thought we'd get dressed like babies." Miriam grinned before replying. "You want the full baby treatment?" She didn't wait for Julie's horrified denial before continuing, "As with the simple diaper and, as you'll find later, keeping you on adult food, this is part of helping our babies adjust. We found that too much too soon scared them and led to behavioural challenges." Sandy used hair bands to add two pony tails to Ellie, the little girl hairstyle making the other three girls all go, "Awww." Alice clapped her hands, drawing their attention, and said, "OK, you've now seen how it's done. Who's next?" "I'll go last," declared Jane, "Let's get these two baby girls diapered and dressed first." Julie and Sandy both blushed and stood there, unwilling to volunteer but lacking the confidence to challenge Jane. Ellie belied her appearance by moving decisively behind Sandy, reaching around to the front and drawing Julie's jacket from her. "Add that jacket to Julie's pile", requested Miriam, "I don't think Sandy will need it any more." Julie stared at her in amazement, surprised Miriam had noticed the loan. "Come on," demanded Jane, taking Julie's hand and leading her towards Sandy, "we should give Ellie some help." Before long Sandy was fully transformed, her pinafore a pale green but still allowing glimpses of the padding beneath. She stood there tugging down on it, not realising she kept going, "Oh. Oh! Oh." Julie wanted to laugh but knew it was her turn, and wasn't sure she'd take it any better. She decided to make it easy for her new friends and faced Jane, held her arms out to the sides and put on a little girl voice. "Please Jane, make me a baby." Jane, Ellie and Sandy laughed, stepped forward and started to remove her blouse and skirt. Miriam and Alice just looked at each other, smiled and said nothing. Julie stepped out of her heels, allowed the girls to remove her underwear and sat on the edge of the table, trying to show a confidence she didn't feel. As Daphne brought over a fresh bowl of warm water Julie looked down and saw Jane pick up the shaving foam. Her confidence failed, and, feeling vulnerable, she found herself reaching down with both hands, covering her crotch. "I.. I'm.." she stuttered, before feeling her wrists being firmly drawn away. She managed not to resist and quickly found her arms above her head, held in place by Ellie, a curious compassionate implacability on her face. "Good, Ellie," complimented Miriam, "Although perhaps you'd like some help with that." Alice walked around the table and Julie heard a sound from underneath it, a creak and a slither, then something cold wrapped around her wrist. She looked up and saw a leather band being fastened in place, shock stopping her resisting as a second was fixed to her other wrist. "We find this helps some of our babies relax," explained Alice, "a firm restraint quells their desire to struggle and removes any sense of guilt about the process." Indeed, Julie had subsided the moment the wrist restraints were in place. She now had no choice, and that lack of agency made it easier to accept her fate, allow Jane to shave away her adulthood. Instead she stretched back with her hands, keen to reach out to Ellie, show that she didn't resent the control imposed on her. Ellie took one of her hands between her own, held it tight, offered warm human contact that provided surprising comfort. A cold damp feeling as she was wiped clean let Julie know that Jane had finished, so she allowed herself to be turned onto her side before being returned to her back. She could feel the padding beneath her, knew she was now lying on a diaper, and generously spread her thighs a little to allow it to be pulled taut between her legs. Looking down she saw Sandy taking charge, taping her securely in place, the incongruous sight of an adult dressed like a toddler turning her into one herself. She sighed, flexed her thighs, felt the bulk between them and wondered why she felt so calm. "No," she heard Alice tell Ellie, "Don't release her yet." Julie looked up, saw the uncertainty on Ellie's face and turned her own to Alice, fear and confusion in her expression even before she said anything. Alice put a finger on her lips, silencing the questions before they came, and explained to the other three, "Sometimes the babies throw tantrums, so you'll need to be able to control and care for them even when they're uncooperative. I'm sure Julie will behave.." Alice paused and gave a quick look at Julie which let her know that she had better behave. "..but this is a lovely opportunity for you to try dressing someone in restraints." Ellie's comforting had helped Julie feel relaxed, and Alice's look didn't leave her feeling threatened. She wriggled on the table, making sure not to kick out, and flapped her hands. In a calm voice she begged, "No! Please don't dress me as a baby. I'll be good! You don't have to do this." Jane laughed, tickled her tummy just above the diaper and replied, "But Julie, you asked me to turn you into a baby. You can't change your mind now!" Sandy burst into giggles and wheeled away, laughing too hard to help, but Jane and Ellie, holding the clothing Daphne offered them, took an ankle each and were soon pulling childish thick tights up Julie's smooth legs. Julie had intended to bend her knees and drum her feet on the table once the tights were pulled up, simulate a toddler's tantrum and make the others laugh some more. Instead she was distracted by the sensations as the tights compressed her diaper against her, a frightening reinforcement of the confinement around her crotch. "We'll need to release her wrists to get the diaper shirt on her," said Sandy, moving to the head of the table. "No," said Jane, "look, there are poppers here." Julie looked and saw Jane holding the diaper shirt she would soon be wearing, unfastening poppers at each shoulder. "Oh, that's clever," she blurted, before remembering the clever design merely meant she would be wearing it even sooner. Jane smiled, lifted both ankles and tugged on the garment. It took all three girls rolling Julie on the table, lifting limbs and tugging on the diaper shirt to pull it onto her, but she was soon snugly dressed, the poppers refastened, and aware that it would all soon repeat with the pinafore dress. "Good work," said Miriam, "but if Julie agrees to cooperate I think it will be quicker and more comfortable for her if we release her wrists and let her sit up while you pull her dress on." The others agreed that this would be easier, and Julie had no intention of delaying her release. "I'll be a good girl," she promised, only to be challenged by Jane. "Oh, no Julie," she said, "Promise me you'll be a good baby." Miriam and Alice laughed, and Julie realised they weren't going to help her out here. "I'll be a good baby girl," she said, then to show she wasn't upset fluttered her eyelashes at Jane. Even Ellie let out a guffaw at that, and the girls soon had Julie's wrists out of the restraints before getting her into a pale yellow pinafore that unsurprisingly was rather shorter than she'd prefer. She stood up, gave a twirl and stopped, facing Jane. "Now then, just one baby left," she declared. Jane nodded, shrugged and invited them to go ahead. *** Thinking back on that first day, Julie thought that getting Jane ready had been the hardest part. Jane had cooperated, made it easy for her, but she'd never had to shave someone else before, let alone so sensitive an area. She'd hesitated, stopped and started 2-3 times, missed a bit and had to redo that area, but finally finished without cutting Jane or causing her pain. Julie wondered if she was more relieved about that than Jane, but they'd never discussed it afterwards. The rest of the afternoon had gone quickly. Miriam and her team had shown the girls to a sitting room, soft furnishings and a trolley with drinks, then left them alone, knowing it had been an intense few hours and that they'd need some time. The girls had sat quietly chatting, discussing what they'd learned, the curious situation, their new attire. Unspoken was the one thing they all knew would come: Someone would need the toilet. Only Sandy had taken a drink from the trolley, seemingly oblivious to the obvious consequences, or perhaps accepting that it was going to happen anyway. Even without a drink Julie knew she'd soon need to go, but she could hold it for the moment and was unwilling to be first to gain this new experience. Before long Daphne and Alice joined them. "Dinner time," said Daphne cheerfully, "but before we go through, does anybody need a change?" Each of the girls shook her head, and stood up, but Alice stopped them. "This might seem silly,", she said, "but we can't trust babies to know when they need a change." She approached Jane, pulled up the pretty pink pinafore and reached down into Jane's tights. Jane stood there, hands on hips, refusing to be embarrassed. "Nope, dry and clean," proclaimed Alice, then checked Sandy before approaching Julie. "Come on sweetheart, lets see how you are," she said. Julie glowered but pulled up her own hem and held it clear from the probing hand. Alice had warm fingers but as they slipped into Julie's diaper she flinched anyway, the intimate intrusion putting her on edge. "Lovely and dry," said Alice, confirming what Julie already knew, and moved on to Ellie who proved equally clean. "Would you like to follow me," suggested Daphne and started towards a door they hadn't been through. Most of the group followed her, looking forward to some food. Sandy however moved towards another door, and asked, "I just need to pop to the loo before dinner. Is there a toilet nearby or should I return to my room?" Alice intercepted her, blocking her passage. "Oh silly, babies don't use the toilet," she said kindly. Sandy didn't respond well. "But I need to go!" she said loudly, "Would you please step aside." Daphne stepped in behind her and took one of her arms firmly, saying nothing. Alice focussed on Sandy's eyes, an imposing stare, before stepping forward and taking the other arm. "Sandy, you agreed to this induction process. This is part of the learning experience. Now, lets go to dinner." Julie saw Sandy stiffen but the reminder that this was part of their training seemed to have helped, and she let the two ladies walk her into the dining room. Julie and the others followed, and found a large wooden table already laid out, simple cutlery identifying the seating spots on each side. Everybody chose a seat, except Sandy, who was walked over to a strange looking chair at one end. Julie peered at it with curiosity, it was the same size as theirs but had high arm rests and its own built-in table. Daphne pulled that to one side as Alice helped Sandy sit in the chair, then swivelled it back in front of her. "Should I apply the straps?" she asked Alice, who shook her head. "No," she replied, "I think Sandy understands now." Sandy nodded, then looked up as Miriam entered through another door. "Ah, I see we have someone at the head of the table," said Miriam, "I'll sit by you Sandy and if you need I can help you with your food." Sandy looked shocked but kept her manners. "Uhm, no. Thank you. I think I can cope," she said, "Can't I sit with the others?" Miriam looked at Alice who shook her head. "Sorry Sandy," she said, "the first baby to misbehave always gets to sit at the head of the table. We find this a useful reminder to the whole group." Julie felt sorry for Sandy so piped up herself, "Hey, it's OK Sandy. I'm sure we'll all get a go." She offered a wan smile, hoping Sandy didn't realise how worried she was herself. Dinner progressed well after that. As promised the new girls enjoyed the same meals as their mentors, and the good food raised spirits. Julie had wondered if they'd get wine, but it seemed a teetotal table and she didn't want to be the only one to ask. Just as desserts were coming out, things took a dark turn. Sandy had been fidgeting for a while, ignored by Miriam but watched with amusement by Alice and concern by the other three girls. They all knew what was causing it, and were struggling with a mix of empathy, disgust and anticipated dread for when they'd join her. "I.. I can't hold it any more," sobbed Sandy quietly. "Then let it go," advised Jane, "we'll all experience this soon." "I know," acknowledged Sandy, "I just don't want to be first. I'm frightened." Her hands gripped the end of her chair's small table, white knuckles showing the physical tension she was under. Julie felt sorry for her, stood up and walked to the head of the table. She crouched by Sandy, took one of her hands and spoke softly to her. "I need to go too. Shall we both pop our cherries together?" The unlikely turn of phrase raised smiles around the table, but Sandy was too far gone to see the humour. "You'd do that for me?" she asked. "Sure," said Julie, projecting bravado she didn't feel, "as Jane said, we're all going to eventually. Shall I count us down? Three.. Two.. One.." Julie closed her eyes and forced herself to relax. She had no idea how she looked, whether Sandy was joining her, what the others thought. She just knew that she could feel her bladder emptying, wetting herself for the first time she could remember. She hoped the diaper wouldn't leak, wondered how it would feel, tried not to think about the walk back to her chair or what would happen when she sat down. She missed Sandy's face switching to an expression of relief, Miriam's quiet smile, Daphne and Alice sharing a knowing look and Jane winking at Ellie. Julie felt Sandy's increased grip on her hand relax, opened her eyes, met Sandy's gaze. "Thank you Julie," said Sandy, "I'm so sorry." Julie smiled. "It's fine. I needed that too," she said, and stood up. "Umm. Should we change before dessert or..?" Her voice trailed off as she saw Miriam's face. "Oh, no. Those diapers can survive more than that," assured Miriam, "take your seat and lets enjoy the rest of our meal."

"Ok," said my wife, "You win. You can call me Mommy and I'll put you in diapers." I follow her into the bedroom where a disposable diaper is opened out on the bed, a promise that sends shivers through me. Mommy strips me and makes me lie naked on the diaper. Reaching to the side she takes a bottle of baby oil and pours it into her hand, letting it overflow and dribble down between my legs. She lifts those, giving her access to my bare bottom and rubs the oil in, one of her fingers getting me all excited as it strays near my poop hole. I can't help it, my peepee rises by itself, a rigid signal to Mommy that I'm enjoying this. She smiles at me, reaches up and tickles me under my chin. "Is my baby all excited?" she asks rhetorically, "Your didi will never fit properly with that there. We'll have to take care of it won't we now." I gurgled at her in enthusiasm, anticipating my fantasy of being masturbated then wrapped in a diaper finally becoming reality. "Yes Mommy, please help, I don't want my didi to leak," I tell her. She takes it in an oil covered hand, "Now, close your eyes little one, and Mommy will make you a happy baby girl." I shut my eyes and enjoyed the sensation of her hand rubbing up and down, the oil lubricating its passage. In a pre-orgasmic haze I idly thought, "Baby girl?" At that point my body lit up with agony, searing pain making me scream wide eyed and look at its source. My crotch was covered in blood, smearing my thighs and dripped from the shears Mommy now held in her hand. The oil covered hand still held my peepee, but only until she threw it through the window. "There," she said, "No more unsightly bulges in my baby girl's didi."

Announcing Supersoft Eco-Gaia, environment friendly waste management for everybody. Give birth to the Earth. People across the world are destroying natural habitats by not only wasting water flushing their toilet, but also channelling that waste into the wild. You can help prevent this heinous crime by refusing to use a toilet. Ban bathrooms from your home and workplace, and save the planet by wearing a diaper that allows you to control disposal of your unavoidable waste. Available in pretty pink, beautiful blue, amazing amber and gorgeous green all of our diapers incorporate a unisex design, assuring that whatever your body, gender and colour preferences you'll have extra padding at the front, between the legs and across your bottom for ultimate protection and comfort. Look out for the unique wetness indicator that starts invisible then, as your Supersoft Eco Gaia helps you save the planet, becomes a vibrant rainbow, showing the world that you're a strong eco-warrior unafraid to avoid toilets and also a supporter of marginalised rights. Incorporating proven animal-friendly technology researched by Supersoft Ecoscientists and manufactured by a socially aware African Women's Co-operative, the groundbreaking Supersoft Eco-Gaia helps you unlearn the toilet training that in modern society destroys those few remaining natural habitats. In addition to being treated with ethically sourced naturally occurring free range diuretics that enable you to overcome any latent embarrassment in your body's natural needs, the built-in electronics monitor your usage and at medically optimal intervals deploy a fast acting laxative, assuring easy and comfortable use of the diaper's full capabilities. These electronics are powered using patented Supersoft technologies that draw energy from your liquid wastes with no rare earth elements required, avoid the exploitation of indigent populations, the toxic spoiling of their precious water table or the rape of their forests in brutal mining operations. Including advanced moral electronics allows interaction between your Supersoft Eco-Gaia and the Fluffies SuperApp, available on all modern mobile devices, giving you up to the minute information on how thoroughly you're saving the planet and whether you need a change. A new feature in the Fluffies SuperApp lets you broadcast your progress via all popular social media sites and mobile messaging, so that your friends and family can marvel at how green you are. Encourage them to join you in adopting Supersoft Eco-Gaia and saving the planet from sexist gender based restrooms, the tyranny of urinals unusable by trans men (and other genders) and the sickening waste of water used by overfilled cisterns. If they're reluctant, you can mention the hidden secret inside every Supersoft Eco-Gaia, an important design element that even your most sceptical friends must acknowledge is a pure and worthy justification all by itself: Rather than being merely compostable, as you would expect from any Supersoft product, the Supersoft Eco-Gaia lining has active tree seeds embedded within it. These benefit from the fertiliser provided by your bodily wastes to grow into a vibrant aesthetic tree, meaning that every time you change into a clean new Supersoft Eco-Gaia you're helping repopulate Earth's forests. To assure ecological diversity seeds from multiple species have been incorporated, with the resultant tree dependent on your climate and how thoroughly you provided that kickstart in its life through your bodily eliminations. Just bury in your garden or local park and add carbon dioxide. So be stunningly brave and prove to the world that you're fully committed to saving it by investing in Earth's future today. Order now at all major environmentally friendly suppliers (and a few minor ones) or read our customer testimonials to find out how they feel about Supersoft Eco-Gaia. Customer Testimonials Tarquin from Rhode Island writes, "Like I so love your Supersoft Eco-Gaia, they're perfect for me as, like, I'm a non-binary vegan and, like, I couldn't possibly use a urinal and I totally like adore the trees. I've made a small copse already!" Fatima got in touch with us from Arizona, "My housemate bought these for me as she decided that if I'm going to be stuck permanently in diapers then I might as well help the environment too. I love them, I can actually take these off and change them myself! But why am I still incontinent? Is that the same diuretic you use in Supersoft Fluffies?" Yes Fatima, it certainly is - we knew you'd love that hidden feature. The delectably named Rainbow-Love Wildebeest d'Alice emailed from Portland to let us know, "I love the colours of Supersoft Eco-Gaia and pick the one that matches my authentic native tunic so that I don't have to cover it up and everybody can see the gorgeous rainbow stripes showing how much I love the planet. Best of all when I'm wearing these those evil right-wing thugs won't come near me now!" Supersoft Eco-Gaia are available and popular internationally too. Greta from Sweden sent us her love and a very happy, "At last I can relive and enjoy my childhood." Sadly we had to decline the suggestion Anna from England called in with: "Use the tagline 'Supersoft Eco-Gaia, like its namesake, gets up close and personal with Uranus.'" So order yours online today at http://SupersoftFluffiesForLife.com or Like us on InstaTwitFace for a free sample pack.

Announcing Supersoft Lifestyles, the protection that gives you the lifestyle you deserve. The choice is no longer whether to have comfort, discretion or protection: Enjoy all three by wearing Supersoft Lifestyles, truly putting control back into your hands. Giving you access to technologies never before seen in adult comfort Supersoft Lifestyles don't compromise on the advanced features customers demand from Supersoft, incorporating new versions of Supersoft's proven wearable electronics and introducing advanced materials so unique that Supersoft Engineers created a whole new branch of Materials Science to invent them. Using Supersoft Lifestyles couldn't be simpler, just pull on instead of your normal underwear and pull back down when your body tells you it's toilet time. No barriers, no complications, just you in full control over when and where you go. Designed for Discretion(R) your new Supersoft Lifestyles will be so thin you'll forget you're wearing them, yet they'll stay comfortably in place providing that secure protection Supersoft customers know and love. That protection starts with our new soft cloth covering: Impermeablon[TM], a natural fibre material developed to allow the skin beneath to breathe naturally yet prevent all moisture from passing will stretch with you yet looks like normal cotton, cut in a modern sporting brief design. Nobody will be able to detect the extremely thin layer of highly hygroscopic padding that lines the inside but you'll know it's there, giving you confidence that any inadvertent leaks will be quickly and efficiently absorbed. Delivering on the ethos of giving you control the padding is not restricted to the crotch area, letting you enjoy active lifestyles other products couldn't handle. The wearable electronics remain dormant until powered, using the same chemical energy conversions so effective in Supersoft Fluffies. Once enacted they respond to the presence of body fluids by alerting the wearer, giving you direct feedback that will help you exert control and also find a toilet in time. These alerts are through our Fluffies SuperApp on your phone but we've also incorporated the vibrating feedback that's been so popular in our Supersoft Sleepwells line. A small modification to assure you have control means that by default these vibrations will not induce further bladder or bowel release, although in deference to customer choice we have enabled an override in the Fluffies SuperApp. It's unlikely that this will ever be required as in addition to the feedback Supersoft Lifestyles will respond to body fluids by discharging across the crotch area a swift release topical muscle relaxant that assures your visit to the toilet will be worthwhile, fully emptying your bladder. The built-in electronics work with sensors to calculate the size of the wearer and dispense a carefully computed volume of relaxant to guarantee release exactly 300 seconds (five minutes) after the initial feedback is provided. Our testers have expressed delight in the unexpected side-effect of temporarily relaxing the bowel, telling us this offers positive reinforcement that makes each trip to the toilet feel truly worthwhile, never needing to sit there wondering why they bothered. Of course, sometimes a tiny leak becomes a bit larger. This is where Supersoft Lifestyles combine protection with discretion and afford you total confidence that wherever you are, you'll retain your dignity. Natural stretch at the waistband and leg openings mean no uncomfortable elastic will pinch or irritate the wearer, making Supersoft Lifestyles more comfortable than most underwear but means an internal reconfiguration is required should the padding reach its absorbency levels. This is managed through both traditional means and an innovative capability possible only with Impermeablon[TM]. The padding will expand on contact with moisture, giving Supersoft Lifestyles remarkable capacity that belies their ultra slim design. Although this can result in a gentle bulge below tight clothing you will agree that this is preferable to wet clothes and an obvious puddle! Even that capacity can of course be overwhelmed. On determining that volume has exceeding safe minimums encoded electrical impulses will be sent to the waist and leg openings, causing them to close down to a watertight fit with the wearer's skin. Only Impermeablon[TM] can achieve this fluid holding closeness without fusing to the skin or causing unwanted discomfort or damage. This closure is also triggered immediately on detection of any faecal matter, assuring retention of absolute discretion even in demanding (and smelly) circumstances. As the closure will prevent normal removal of the garment the electronics will enable hidden Eletabs(R) that allow the Supersoft Lifestyles to be unfastened at the front and removed, just as Supersoft Fluffies. Indeed, we've ported the same Eletabs(R) technology, giving you all of the protection and features that provides including carer support and DNA validation. Supersoft Lifestyles give you back your own life and let you lead a lifestyle that you control! Order now at all major adult medical suppliers (and a few minor ones) or read our customer testimonials to find out how they feel about Supersoft Lifestyles. Customer Testimonials An early eager customer is Grant from Hawaii who told us, "The excitement of skydiving sometimes causes me a little loss of control so I wore Supersoft Lifestyles for my last jump. I'd tested them on ground and they're so discreet they were ideal under my jumpsuit! Unfortunately as I left the aircraft I received that telltale vibration and in panic pulled my parachute cord far too early. By the time I landed I was thoroughly empty inside, although I must say I had no leaks and falling onto my bottom didn't hurt at all with the now enhanced padding." We were delighted to hear from Fatima in Arizona who revealed, "I convinced my room mate I needed to be allowed to try and regain control so she relented and bought me some Supersoft Lifestyles. After I pulled them on she checked that they'd synced with her phone, but I assured her it wouldn't be needed. Coming straight out of Supersoft Fluffies I still wasn't free of their chemicals so it didn't take long before her phone beeped to let us know I'd had a tiny accident. I ran straight for the bathroom but these strange vibrations kicked in, just like the Supersoft Sleepwells I have to wear at night, and by the time I reached it I was waddling and could no longer remove the Supersoft Lifestyles. My roommate insisted I go back into Supersoft Fluffies but has promised me I can try the Supersoft Lifestyles once a week" Surprising feedback came from the Mu Omega Mu Sorority in Kansas, who have been impressively innovative. "We worked a deal with our partner Frat to give their pledges a test. Pull on a Supersoft Lifestyles, and take it off again four hours later. Easy, right? Of course, if one of our Sisters takes a liking to one of them a quick syringe of her urine squirted inside means he'll have five minutes to work out whether to fail the task or REALLY fail the task. You don't want to know what we then make them do to earn a change - and of course, with no clean underwear for them and a proven need for protection, they all accept our generous offer to safely fasten them into Supersoft Fluffies to get them home safe ;)" (We've since made a job offer to three members of the Mu Omega Mu Sorority, and look forward to them joining us after graduation.) However, we think Alison from Florida said it best of all, "OMIGOD! I asked you for these and you've done them! Thank you! Oh, thank you!" So order yours online today at http://SupersoftFluffiesForLife.com or Like us on InstaTwitFace for a free sample pack.

Chapter 2 As the initial hubbub caused by Miriam's announcement died down, Mia stood and spoke confidently. "I'm sorry, I've made a mistake in coming here. I can not countenance your business model, and I refuse to participate in your business. I will not be going through your induction process." The other girls looked at her in surprise. They were still unsettled themselves, but Julie felt Mia's straight rejection was brave and slightly intimidating. Jane smiled slightly, Sandy looked ready to wet herself and Ellie remained taciturn. Miriam slowly nodded, and gestured to Daphne, who stood and walked up to Mia. "We understand, and thank you for being forthright. Such honesty validates our choice to give you this opportunity, but we will of course respect your wishes. If you come with me I can help arrange transport back home for you, and if you need a hotel tonight then naturally we'll cover that expense on your behalf." Daphne walked towards the door without touching Mia, then paused, waiting for her to follow. Surprised by the response Mia looked uncertain for a moment, then regained her resolve and followed Daphne from the room, pausing only when Miriam spoke, "Remember Mia, you signed an agreement not to discuss the things we've shared with you today. Will that be a problem?" Mia laughed quietly, and shook her head. "No," she replied, "who would believe this anyway." She left the room, still shaking her head. Julie found herself smiling as she realised the truth of Mia's comment. This was a very strange situation and she couldn't imagine telling anybody about it. She looked at the other girls and saw that Jane and Ellie had also seen the humour, but Sandy seemed to be struggling still. "Are you OK Sandy?" she asked, looking at the bewildered young woman. "Y-yes." Sandy looked at Julie, then across at Miriam. "I don't understand. You want us to be babies?" Miriam let the question hang in the air, looked around the room and in turn held the gaze of the four remaining girls, all rapt and waiting for her answer. Eventually she responded, a firm and quiet "No." Sandy looked ready to cry. "I don't understand," she faltered, before realising everybody was looking at her and stopping completely. Jane spoke up instead. "You wish us to experience the process, gain a thorough understanding from the inside, as it were?" "Exactly," confirmed Miriam, "We find this lets you learn swiftly and also gain empathy for those you will be taking through the whole process. Of course, they'll enjoy several weeks of preparation but those first few days are the most intense, and where your support will be most needed." Julie thought that through. There was a twisted logic at work there, but she realised she was still getting to terms with the whole business. This was a bit too much, too fast. "This is a lot to absorb," she said, "you've shared a lot of information and you seem to be asking us to make quite a commitment here." "I know," said Miriam sympathetically, "it's only a couple of hours since lunch and you've had to take a lot in. I ask that you trust us, we've been through this induction process many times and this has been the quickest and easiest way for our new teams to get up to speed. Will you work with us on this?" Julie saw Jane and Ellie nodding, and decided she'd better show her willingness to trust her new boss. "This is all very strange, but yes, I'll give it a go. After all," she rationalised, "it's only a week." That seemed to settle Sandy too, and she indicated her acquiescence. "Good!" said Miriam brightly, "Let's get you all started right away. Alice, could you lead our new team through to the changing room?" Julie remembered her first sight of that room. Warmly lit by the afternoon sun the dark wooden furniture glowed, offsetting the clinical white covers on the multiple flat tops. She'd run her hand across one, feeling it give softly when she pressed down, upholstered to provide comfort to anyone sat or lying on it. They were too bare to be beds, but sized similarly, as though the room was a dormitory for six adults, waiting for bedding and pillows. Instead one wall was lined with tidy shelves, and although at first glance it looked like neat piles of bedding and towels on them Julie quickly realised that these were diapers. There seemed to be different styles, disposable ones in plastic and with a paper like outer, and more traditional towelling. Under the shelves were closed drawers and Julie wondered what those held. She didn't need to wonder for long. Alice gathered the girls around her and gave them a quick rundown of the room and its contents. "OK, the changing tables are obvious, and you can see the selection of diapers on this wall. We have multiple types and most of them come in several sizes; we'll go through the various options another day and help you understand when and why to use each one. In these drawers we have plastic and rubber pants, along with diaper pins. Those are mainly for use with the washable diapers." Alice opened a different drawer. "Here we have wipes, powder and a couple of different creams for preventing and treating diaper rash, and in this drawer," she said, opening another, "plastic gloves and some more supplies. Now, if you look.." The tour continued for a few minutes more. Bins for used diapers, a sluice and laundry basket for the cloth ones, a door through to a room with showers and a large bath, big enough for all four girls to share. Julie recalled acknowledging the professionalism of the set up, but still viewing it with detachment, unable to visualise her participation with the room and its contents. That felt a long time ago. Four days later she was intimately familiar with that room, gaining proficiency in using its contents to provide security and comfort to others, and benefiting directly herself. Julie laughed to herself as she remembered that first attempt to put on a diaper. Miriam had joined them and as Alice finished the brief tour she'd drawn the group together to examine their experience. "Who's changed a diaper before?" she asked, skipping the niceties and getting straight to the issue. "I have. I changed my cousin's diaper like all the time," revealed Sandy. "Only until he was 8 though." Everybody in the room paused and looked at her, including Alice and Miriam, who asked the question on everybody's mind, "He wore diapers until he was 8?" "Oh. Oh, no. Umm!" Sandy looked flustered. "8 months! He was still a little baby." An odd tension nobody had noticed dissipated, Jane chuckled and soon everybody joined in. Miriam let it subside before resuming, "Excellent Sandy. Anybody else? No? OK, that wont be a problem. You'll need a different technique and approach for an adult anyway." She briskly described the basics of fitting a disposable diaper, how to manage the weight of an adult, securely fastening it, assuring the comfort of the recipient. "Later we'll give you some more input around cleaning and keeping a baby healthy, but as you're all starting with a clean slate, as it were, lets use this first session to focus on fitting and fastening. Now, who's first." Julie involuntarily stepped backwards before realising she'd done so. She saw Alice smile at her, but nothing was said and a moment later Ellie stepped forward, raising her hand confidently. She kept it raised only briefly before moving it swiftly to her side and she pulled down the zip on her dress before Miriam stopped her. "Thank you Ellie, I'm grateful to you for taking a lead here. But please, let us take over now." Miriam invited the other three girls to come closer. "Now girls, you have a new doll to undress. Show her how gentle and caring you can be, and strip young Ellie here completely naked." Julie hesitated. She hadn't anticipated needing to be fully nude, in front of everybody. Jane though stepped forward, gently lifted Ellie's arms and in a soft voice asked her if she could keep them raised. Ellie complied, cooperative but letting Jane take control. Julie helped Jane lift Ellie's dress from the hem up over her head, then pull it clear of her arms. As Jane folded it neatly Julie motioned to Sandy to help her with the slip. Seconds later Ellie was being asked to step out of her panties and stood there entirely bare, a small smile on her lips, waiting patiently for the next steps. Again Julie hesitated, the short muscular woman stood naked in front of her looking nothing like a baby needing care. Even Jane paused, looking to Miriam for guidance. Instead Alice reached towards Ellie, explaining, "You forgot something," as she plucked the wooden sticks from Ellie's hair, freeing it from its severe bun. Ellie shook her head to help her pale brown hair fall loose and it draped across her shoulders. "Good, now help Ellie onto the table," instructed Miriam. Sandy put an arm behind Ellie, gently took her far elbow and led her to the nearest changing table. It was low enough for Ellie to sit without jumping, but Sandy knelt and wrapped Ellie's ankles, drawing them up and onto the table too. This turned Ellie around, and Julie reached forward to pull softly on her shoulders to lie her down. Alice left the room as Miriam spoke again. "Keeping the diaper area clean and sterile is much easier if it's clear of hair," she explained, "and our customers also expect their babies to be clear of any adult hair." She paused, as the meaning of her words was absorbed by the four girls. Even Ellie looked perturbed and started to sit up. Julie instinctively halted her rise, and drew her back down to the table, earning a congratulatory smile from Miriam. Alice returned, bearing a bowl of warm water. Reaching into one of the drawers on the wall she retrieved a safety razor and an aerosol can labelled with a popular brand of shaving foam. "I'm sure you've all used one of these before," she said, "on your legs and under your arms, at least. Who wants to help Ellie here with a more intimate shave?" When none of them immediately volunteered Miriam spoke up, "There are four of you that need a shave, so each of you will get the chance to look after someone. Sandy, would you like to show us how it's done?" Sandy shrugged, whispered a quiet, "Sorry" at Ellie and picked up the can of shaving foam. Ellie rolled her eyes and stoically folded her arms through the next few minutes of indignity. Julie tried not to stare and instead found herself stroking Ellie's hair, unsure if she was providing comfort to Ellie or herself. "Umm. Feels weird to shave a baby," she commented. Alice agreed with her, "Yes, but this is a one-off. In a few days enough hair will grow back to support laser electrolysis. A course of that treatment and a shave will never be needed again. Most of our babies reach us with pubic growth too long for that to work, so this helps us prepare them and also lets them adapt to their new status before undergoing a treatment that would frighten them on day one." Miriam teased, "But please, do let us know if you'd like to experience that part of the process." Julie rapidly shook her head, causing everyone to laugh. "So," asked Alice, "is Ellie ready?" Sandy gave an uncertain nod, so Alice quickly checked, running her hand down from Ellie's waist. "Lovely and smooth, nice job Sandy." This caused blushes from Sandy and Ellie, but both kept quiet. Julie looked over to Miriam, who was pulling a plain white disposable from a shelf. "You'll need to get used to judging size," she said, "but this one will fit Ellie well. We always start with a plain white disposable, plastic backed, two tapes. As our babies progress we can use the infantile prints and some will get on better with a single tape or a paper back, but these have a sterile medical feel that helps with the initial acclimatisation." Miriam handed the diaper to Jane, and offered instructions on how to get it onto someone the size of Ellie. "Now obviously, you can't just lift the ankles and slide it underneath as you would a normal infant," she explained, "so open the diaper, flatten it out, put it beside her." Jane followed the instructions, then held up the leak guards and gave Miriam a quizzical look. "Are these to hold in solid waste?" she asked, her attempted professional tone unusually stilted. "They help with all emissions," informed Miriam, "pull them away from the inner padding and the diaper's design will move them into position as you fasten it. Now, I went through this with you earlier: Roll Ellie onto her side and move the diaper underneath her." Sandy and Julie rolled Ellie onto her side, and after Jane pushed the flat padded plastic into position rolled her back on top of it Jane smiled apologetically at Ellie, reached down between her legs and drew up the front of the diaper. As she reached for the tapes on the side she felt a touch on her hands as Alice stopped her. "I'll do this first one," Alice said, "It's not difficult but a couple of tricks can really help prevent leaks." Ellie lay there listening as the Alice gave a recap of the various options; waist then legs, legs first, should one side be completed before the other? Alice eventually fastened the diaper at the waist before pulling it tight at the leg. Julie interrupted the process. "Shouldn't we use powder?" she queried, "I thought diapers needed that." Alice smiled at her and finished taping the diaper closed at the legs. "Powder can help your baby smell nice, and is sometimes used to reinforce the sense of infantilisation," she explained, "but it's entirely unnecessary for healthy diaper use. Regular changes help avoid a rash and the various creams we have are far better treatments when needed. Powder just causes a mess and if the baby suffers from Asthma can be a serious problem for them. We try to avoid using it." As she finished speaking she patted Ellie on her now padded stomach and said, "There, all done." "Thank you Ellie," said Miriam, "we appreciate your patience. Ah, Daphne. How's Mia?" Daphne strode briskly into the room, carrying a wicker basket. "She's in the taxi, and I've got her a room by the airport. Her flight is early tomorrow," she said, "and she has my number in case of any difficulties." "Excellent, thank you," said Miriam, helping Daphne lift the basket onto one of the tables. "And superb timing too, we're just ready for these." The girls looked curiously across as Miriam opened the basket and lifted clothing out. Folded flat they could only tell colours, something white followed by a larger item in a pale blue. Miriam passed them to Sandy and asked, "Shall we dress baby Ellie?"

Pizza delivery is the peak of Western decadence. Not only is someone making a meal for you, not only are they delivering it to your door, not only are they charging you an African's week's wages for this, but the meal they deliver is nutritiously bankrupt, a hedonistic luxury consumed purely for pleasure. I opened the door and welcomed my decadence. The boy that delivered it drove to my house so he had to be at least 17, even if he didn't look it. His features suggested Pakistan but his clothes were pure Birmingham, a shell suit and expensive trainers covering his slim youthful frame. We swapped money for pizza, then I looked him in the eye and gave him a night to remember. "Could you help me? I need a change." Pakistani origins or not his reply was pure English middle class, with an accent to match. "Erm, sorry?" he asked, confusion giving him an attractive vulnerable look. I reached down and slowly started to lift the hem of my skirt. It was short to start with, a simple A line style with a lace edged slip underneath. Watching his face I could tell the moment he saw the lace, his wide eyed gaze flicking in surprise and anticipation. "My nappy needs a change," I told him, my sultry voice drawing his eyes back to my face. I could see him translating that into a context his brain could handle, something he struggled to achieve. He looked back down at my bare thighs, my skirt now high enough to show the stretched plastic that held them apart, slight discolouring making evident the truth of my admission. He actually stepped back in shock, looked back up at my face. I smiled at him and asked sweetly, "Will you help?" Next time I'm definitely setting up a camera. The range of expressions on his face would go viral, even if they did end with him visibly exerting some self control. "I'm sorry Ma'am," he said, "I'm at work and I have other customers' pizza in the car going cold." I frowned, as much at being a Ma'am not a Miss, vicious feedback that I look my age. He didn't notice, he'd already turned and walked away. As he got into his car I heard him burst out laughing, a reaction he'd so politely suppressed in front of me. Impressive for a young man, a credit to his parents - but no use to me. Oh well. At least I had pizza.

Announcing Supersoft Sleepwells, a unique and innovative approach to night time care and protection. Following the tremendous reception to the magnificent Supersoft Fluffies the research scientists at http://SupersoftFluffiesForLife.com have been working hard to invent a new paradigm in comfortable protection. Supersoft Sleepwells introduce a new registered design that incorporates favourite features of Supersoft Fluffies then boosts functional excellence further through new and exciting options for carers and wearers alike. In response to strong demand for overnight protection guaranteed not to leak Supersoft Sleepwells discard legacy diaper design and focus on extensive absorbency and elimination of traditional egress points. That's right, the new Supersoft Sleepwells dispense entirely with openings at the top of the legs, instead extending right down to cover the legs and feet. Naturally an overnight garment will be worn lying down so the waistband represented a further risk vector and has also been removed. Instead Supersoft Sleepwells enfold the wearer right up to the neck, fastening across the shoulders with the same patent pending Eletabs(R) that have proven so popular on Supersoft Fluffies. While competing products have opted for a waterproof sleeping bag style design the Supersoft Sleepwells exhibit the attention to comfort and practicality our customers demand through inclusion of sophisticated components that address potential challenges. To retain that leakproof shoulder fastening Supersoft Sleepwells feature integrated sleeves into which the wearer's arms can be inserted. These allow a range of movement on the inside to prevent cramping but are carefully constructed to keep hands safely away from the shoulder openings or genital areas. In addition to this early research swiftly discovered that wearers were struggling to sleep in the absence of a thick diaper between their legs, requiring the physical feedback of secure and thirsty absorbent material to reassure them that they were safe and secure overnight. Supersoft Sleepwells thus provide that feedback through extensive absorbent padding between the thighs, offering several inches of width and depth that provide a constant reminder to the wearer of their secure protection. That security is further assured by the Eletabs(R) fingerprint and DNA matching that validates that it is a carer providing a change. Powered by the same chemical transformations as Supersoft Fluffies the Supersoft Sleepwells share the medicinal coating that promises a ready supply of liquid fuel through temporary incontinence. Harnessing the greater internal surface area of Supersoft Sleepwells that medicinal coating has been supplemented with a new muscle relaxant that encourages restful sleep. Although carefully controlled to wear off overnight to allow a bright and active daytime the muscle relaxant has been observed to impact on rear sphincter muscles but our carers tell us it's great to assure solids are eliminated overnight as this gives them an easier job during the day. Obviously in a recumbent position gravity itself works to prevent straightforward release of the bladder, risking discomforting retention of unwanted liquids. To support the Eletabs(R) we've built in a new and expanded suite of paper thin electronics that not only power the fingerprint and DNA sensors but can now also actuate micromotors carefully embedded at the front and rear of Supersoft Sleepwells. These micromotors provide a vibrating sensation below the rib cage and from the kidneys down the posterior that simulates the rubbing a medical professional would use to express the bladder and encourage release of the bowels. In addition to the medical benefits of delivering painless and assured elimination of all waste products this approach provides a pleasurable massage to the wearer, boosting their satisfaction and aiding swift sleep. Demonstrating a commitment to care and risk reduction the embedded electronics also include vital monitoring with automated notification to the carer and medical authorities should the wearer require assistance. Although thoroughly covered in a choice of decorative and waterproof NoTears[tm] rip-proof plastic some carers expressed concern that a wriggling wearer may damage their Supersoft Sleepwells or (if circumstances prevent use of bed rails) themselves so at the top of each arm and at the toes there are strong loops that can be safely fastened to the bed or any standard hospital restraint system. Although this will prevent the wearer from getting up to go to the toilet that's not going to be a problem when they're wearing Supersoft Sleepwells. In fact, not only are these our warmest ever diaper, all Supersoft Sleepwells come with a 'Return and replace' warranty that they will not leak within the first three days of continuous wear. Order now at all major adult medical suppliers (and a few minor ones) or read our customer testimonials to find out how they feel about Supersoft Sleepwells. Customer Testimonials Our very first testimonial came from Fatima in Arizona, who writes, "My roommate signed me up to help test your new Supersoft Sleepwells and now demands that I go to bed in one every night. She's told me I can go back to Supersoft Fluffies if I can go a whole night without messing but that hasn't happened yet. Why are you doing this to me?" Trent in Wisconsin wrote to tell us, "I didn't believe your three day warranty so my wife Julie hasn't been changed now for 83 hours. She keeps begging for a clean diaper but there hasn't been even a suggestion of a leak. These things are amazing!" More praise from Lilian who wrote to us all the way from England, which is in England. She tells us, "My girlfriend Kelly had problems sleeping so I suggested Supersoft Sleepwells and she agreed to give them a try. It's fun watching her try and walk with all that padding between her legs before the muscle relaxant kicks in and she collapses helplessly onto the bed. Cleaning her in the morning is yucky but it's worth it for how that built in massager keeps her on the edge all night. I might have to try these myself!" Validation of our health monitoring came from Frank in Texas. He let us know that, "I managed to get into it but found my arms were trapped and I couldn't get back out. Two days later I was going delirious from dehydration when paramedics broke into my house and told me they'd had an automated emergency call. I'm ok now, or will be when they stop putting me in Supersoft Sleepwells and release me from this secure hospital. Can you tell them it was all just an accident?" But we think Kirsten from Florida says it best, recognising the warmth and comfort promised with every Supersoft Sleepwells, "Ohhh mi godd this si soo hawt like i just cant!!!!111" So order yours online today at http://SupersoftFluffiesForLife.com or Like us on InstaTwitFace for a free sample pack.

Bobby sniggered as he gripped the metal ring, his biceps bulging as he strained to force it open. “Give me a hand here Seb,” he said. Sebastian looked across. “Told you it’d be stiff,” he said, “this sprinkler system is so old I don’t think the groundstaff even know it’s here.” They grunted together, faces side by side, semi-crouched over the rusted metal, shoulders square on to each other. A grinding sound and the ring started to turn, slowly at first then quicker. Bobby and Sebastian lost their balance as their hands followed it around, falling forward onto each other, collapsing sideways and ending up on the grass. Sebastian looked down into his friend’s face, noses almost touching, eyes close together. He puckered his lips, closed his eyes and waited. “Get off me you oaf,” said Bobby, pushing Sebastian away and standing up, “We’ll miss the fun!” The two lads looked out from the rickety shed across the playing fields, watched as water started to spray from invisible jets below the turf, creating geometric patterns that arced into the air. New jets appeared as the water travelled further, taking just seconds to start spurting by the cheerleaders, midway through practising a routine. Screams filled the air, bright panties flashing from beneath the pleated skirts as the girls started to run in random directions. Bobby and Sebastian burst out laughing, dropping to their knees, look at each other as though needing affirmation that this was funny, then looked back at the fleeing cheerleaders. “Look at them go!” said Sebastian, “Oh god, I’m going to wet myself laughing.” Bobby stopped laughing for a moment and looked at him, then decided to let it go. He laughed again as he looked back at the girls, then realised one wasn’t running as quickly as she had been, was being left behind by the others. “Hey Seb, what’s with Cassie?” They watched as Cassandra stopped running and crouched a little, knees apart, hands reaching down between her thighs. The sprinklers still squirted water and she was getting wetter by the moment, but as they watched they realised with fascination that something was starting to hang below her short skirt, dropping lower by the second. “Wait?” asked Sebastian, “Is that a…” He stopped incredulously, incapable to voicing what he was watching. He stood in surprise and watched as the bulk between Cassandra’s thighs grew and her knees were forced further apart. Two of the other girls had turned and spotted her too, were running back over to her. As one wrapped her arms around Cassandra’s shoulders, quiet words whispered into her ears the other girl looked up, saw the two lads watching and laughing, guessed what had happened. “Bobby! Seb! Oh, you two are going to regret this!” she shouted, starting a firm angry walk towards them. The two young men looked at each other, turned and ran. This couldn’t end well!

Chapter 1 "Day Four," explained Miriam, "is when things get real. The first day, there's some confusion, everything is new, some people treat it as a lark, there's a sense of anticipation and discovery." Julie thought back four days. The girls had all giggled, embraced their new status, had fun dressing each other and looking in the mirror. "You look adorable!" Sandy had told her. "You're very cute too," replied Julie, "that pinafore is just darling." Neither of them had mentioned what was underneath the childish dress. They'd been well briefed from the outset. Five young women, newly graduated and excited at a job opportunity with the secretive company, had travelled to the country house at which it was based. Miriam had greeted them there, with two other ladies. They'd all been dressed in smart business suits, the professional attire giving them the appearance of authority, immediately supported by their words and actions. Daphne had met each of them in turn at reception, handed them various forms to complete. "Bring these with you, you can complete them in your room," she'd said. "You'll have a couple of hours to shower, recover from your journey and get these filled in ahead of the reception at 1pm." She'd shown each of the girls their room, given directions to the dining room, and left them with an admonishment to be punctual. Julie remembered kicking off her shoes, leaping onto a luxurious double bed and looking up at the ornate ceiling, wondering how she'd been accepted for this opportunity. Stripping off the jeans and casual top she'd worn for the journey she enjoyed a quick bath and sat in her dressing gown to go through the forms. Non-disclosure, next of kin, corporate respect policies, a medical form. Nothing that concerned her, certainly not as much as what she should wear for the lunch reception. In the end she'd risked being too smart. She could take off her jacket, with her skirt and camisole offering a more relaxed presentation; much harder to dress up if she'd been too casual to start. Entering the dining room she found Miriam and Daphne in their severe suits and felt glad she'd dressed to match. They were talking to another lady who left them, came over and introduced herself. "Hello, you must be Julie. I'm Alice, and over there are Miriam and Daphne." "Hello Alice, it's nice to meet you," replied Julie, "I met Daphne when I arrived. She was very welcoming." Alice smiled warmly and gestured to three young women stood chatting together in the corner of the room. "These are your fellow inductees," she said, "why not head over and introduce yourself." Julie walked over to the other girls. Two of them were in smart work clothes, the third looking under dressed in casual slacks and a wide necked top. As she approached they turned to her and offered quiet welcomes. "Hi, I'm Jane," said one of the trio, a slim girl with a broad face and coffee coloured skin. "And this is Ellie and Sandy." Ellie was short but looked feisty, her hair in a tidy bun held secure with ornate wooden hair sticks. She nodded confidently at Julie but was content to stay quiet, letting Sandy speak instead. "Oh gosh, it's lovely to meet you," enthused Sandy, "isn't this wonderful!" The other girls smiled at the obvious excitement and let Sandy's happiness remove their own nervousness. Julie realised she should introduce herself too. "Hi, I'm Julie. You're right, this is excellent. I love the house, but I only got here this morning. Have you been here long?" "Only half an hour ago," explained Sandy, "I haven't even had time to unpack. Hope they wont mind me being under dressed!" Julie thought quickly and took off her jacket. "Here, put this on. If we're both 'smart casual' you wont look out of place." Sandy took the jacket and grabbed Julie close, giving her a little too warm a hug. "Oh, thank you!" she wittered, "you're so kind!" Jane had a jacket on too, which she removed and hung on a nearby chair. "There, now we're the norm," she said. Ellie was wearing a dark dress with no jacket, so just shrugged apologetically at the other three. They smiled back in understanding. At this point Alice had walked over to join them, bringing with her another woman their own age. "Girls, meet Mia. Now that you're all here, lets have some lunch." Mia's suit was surprisingly close in design to Alice's, but she smiled at the girls and gave a little wave as they went over to the buffet. Lunch was quick, the girls chatting about their family, the school they went to, their thoughts about the job they were starting. Miriam, Alice and Daphne joined the conversation but avoided any job related questions. "After lunch," assured Miriam. Indeed, after eating they moved into another room, soft chairs in a circle, a cosy collaborative set up that put the girls at ease. Miriam offered a formal welcome, then finally started to satisfy their curiosity. "I know that we've been coy regarding the full extent of the business here at Stork Supplies. You've all joined us with hopes of a strong career in the global export markets, and we'd love you to achieve that with us. Now that you've signed the NDAs we can share with you some detail around the service we offer and the goods we supply to our many global customers. "Our company name is perhaps a little mischievous: A core element of our business is indeed delivery of babies." Miriam paused, and looked around the circle. The girls were all listening intently, and looked to be thinking through what they'd just heard. Julie tried to parse it. Delivering babies seemed weird, did they mean..? She raised her hand. "Julie, you have a query?" asked Miriam. "Sorry, you may be about to cover this, but I'm a little confused. You're an export business, rather than midwives. Do you mean we work in the adoption sector?" Miriam smiled, and nodded. "In a way, yes. But we don't work with children, there are already government and charitable organisations servicing that sector," she clarified, "we offer for adoption babies in their early 20s." There were gasps around the room at that, and Sandy laughed out loud before blurting, "Babies in their 20s? What? How does that work?" Miriam stayed quiet and looked at each of the girls in turn, until she was sure she had their attention. "There is a large market out there, people that want a baby of their own, but also a companion, someone that isn't as helpless as a child, and often a sexual partner. We work with that market, understand their needs and meet them." "But.." exclaimed Mia, "how? Where are these babies coming from? In their 20s? I've never heard of such a thing!" Miriam nodded, expecting the question. She looked over to Daphne and inclined her head, a clear signal to proceed with something they'd planned. Daphne stood up, some cards in her hand, and distributed them to the girls. Julie looked at her card. It showed an infant in a baby rocker, short denim dress billowing out at the waist, thick white tights over an obvious diaper. Then she realised the person wearing these things looked her own age, clearly adult features under an infantile haircut. She looked up in confusion, showed her card to Ellie, sat next to her. Ellie wordlessly revealed the card she was holding back. Julie let out a squeak, unable to stifle her reaction. She hadn't known whether to go 'awww' or 'ewww' at the image on the card, a little boy in denim shortalls, sat with his legs spread on a padded mat, entranced by a cloth covered cube in his hands and with colourful plastic peeking out of the wide leg opening facing her. It was the idealised one year old, except this was clearly a young man, a firm chin, prominent Adam's apple and surprisingly muscular arms. "Ah, Simon," said Alice, seeing the card Julie had reacted to, "we had a bit of a bidding war for him." Miriam glared quickly at Alice before continuing. "As you can see, we can indeed source some lovely babies for our customers. Finding them can be a challenge, and is indeed our largest expense." She outlined some of their acquisition routes; suicide hotlines, personals adverts, online fetish forums and other places that people desperate for a new or changed life frequent. "Our selection process is very careful," she said, "we want to find people that will embrace an infants life, cherish the care they receive, welcome their lack of autonomy and accept the discipline a child needs when it transgresses boundaries. It's important that the baby adapts to its new life, but also very important that it will be well cared for and loved in its new home. "In that regard we're very much like an adoption agency," she said, looking back at Julie, who nodded thoughtfully. Were there really that many people willing to abandon their adult life and go to live as a child in diapers? She looked back at the card in her hand, and blushed, embarrassed at her naivety. Of course there were, she was looking at one now. Jane caught Miriam's eye, waited for acknowledgement and asked a question of her own. "Where do we fit in? Are we working on the supply side, handling logistics, engaging the customers?", she asked, "I can see some interesting challenges across all of those." Miriam smiled, clearly happy with the question. "We want our teams to be skilled across the whole business," she said, "so you'll spend some time in each of those areas, as well as the back office and support functions. Accounting isn't fun but financial management is a core skill you'll need to master." Julie panicked inside at this, and it showed on her face. Alice noticed but said nothing, and none of the girls realised she was noting down everybody's reactions as Miriam spoke. Mia and Ellie hadn't responded, Sandy had also looked a little worried and Jane had shrugged as though this wasn't news to her. Miriam continued, "We expect that you'll find some roles more rewarding than others, and over time you'll want to focus on a specialism. That's great, and we'll support you with this, but you'll be stronger with the broad experience you'll gain up front." With that she handed over to Daphne, who spent the next half hour sharing mundane information. Corporate structure, holiday and sickness procedures, payroll and associated benefits, the various reporting activities. Another half hour presented by Alice covered their core business process, including identifying candidates for babies and those that want them and the cross-sell opportunities around adult sized baby clothes and furniture. After a comfort break and a pause for coffee (or in Sandy's case, a glass of orange juice - Julie wasn't sure where that had come from) they reconvened and Mia asked a pointed question. "How do you turn an adult into a baby? What if they don't like it? Talk me through the process." Miriam looked at her calmly before answering, "Perfect timing Mia, that's exactly our next agenda item. We've developed and continue to refine a several week process that helps adults transition into the baby they want to be. It includes various checks and balances to assure their comfort and happiness, and I'm delighted to say that we get very few drop outs." "Rather than explain it in detail today though, we'd like to start you all on our induction week. This will give you a chance to understand the process first hand, and learn more about the techniques we use, how they work and your role in them." "First hand?" asked Sandy, "We're going to work with babies in our first week?" Miriam laughed and looked around at the girls. "Not quite," she said, "You're going to experience our first week of baby training yourselves."

Announcing Supersoft Fluffies, a new adult protection product. A new paradigm in disposable garments designed to provide necessary protection from unwanted leaks and solids, Supersoft Fluffies assure your loved one stays secure. Scientifically constructed to prevent expansion when wet Supersoft Fluffies offer extensive comfortable padding at all times, preventing clothing from getting too tight during wear. This exquisite soft comfort has been constructed with a high waist and generous fitting at the legs to maximise the sensation of all encompassing cover. The science doesn't stop there! Paper thin wearable electronics have been incorporated into the plastic exterior, avoiding the weight and bulk of batteries through innovative contact patches that generate the trace amounts of electricity required. The patches are carefully designed to react with urea and other unpleasant chemicals expelled by the body, converting their chemical energy into electricity. The remaining liquid is much less toxic, vastly reducing the risk of rash and improving comfort during extended wear. A clever permeable membrane in the layers nearest the wearer's skin draws the urine away from the body and provides a constant supply to the electronics. Clean moisture is permitted back through, offering the wearer tactile feedback on the state of the garment and whether it remains dry. The electronics do make the plastic backing on Supersoft Fluffies thicker than wearers might be used to but this gives the waterproof cover extra strength and you'll find the added functionality provided more than justifies any additional crinkling sounds: The electronic systems can interact with our patented Fluffies SuperApp, available on all modern mobile devices, and provide confirmation of whether the Supersoft Fluffies diaper has been used, whether it needs to be changed and, through artificially intelligent systems applying careful analysis of flow rate, previous usage and time of day, a prediction of when the next change is likely to be needed. The Fluffies SuperApp can even track usage and pre-order new supplies so that you never run out! As many of the adults for whom Supersoft Fluffies are bought are vulnerable or in situations precluding direct access to their nether regions the Supersoft Fluffies are fastened with patent pending Eletabs(R). While looking like normal disposable diaper tabs these record the fingerprint of the person fitting the Supersoft Fluffies diaper and will only open when the same fingerprint is matched to the person trying to undo each of the Eletabs(R). As the fingerprint matching is performed by the built in electronics it is impossible to remove the garment while dry, helping avoid any Supersoft Fluffies being wasted. So that this wont inhibit important scheduled activities such as bath time or a pre-bed change Supersoft Fluffies include a medicinal coating that induces temporary incontinence, guaranteeing swift use of the garment. This impermanent effect lasts only a few hours, with most of our happy customers regaining full control within a couple of days. Customer feedback during testing revealed that an override for the fingerprint detection was highly desirable to support scenarios involving multiple carers (shift patterns, illness, etc) so it is possible to use the Fluffies SuperApp to override the initial fingerprint by capturing a new one on the mobile device. This is transmitted and programmed into the garment's electronics, allowing new carer to open the Eletabs(R) to change the Supersoft Fluffies diaper. As this may otherwise negate the security offered by Eletabs(R) the addition of this feature has required additional electronic checks which mean that a non-invasive DNA comparison between the finger used to open the diaper and the person wearing it is made before the Eletabs(R) will open, with a match keeping the Supersoft Fluffies diaper firmly fastened. Order now at all major adult medical suppliers (and a few minor ones) or read our customer testimonials to find out how they feel about Supersoft Fluffies. Customer Testimonials David from Ohio writes, "I bought a sample pack of Supersoft Fluffies for my wife Selena to help her with an occasional bedwetting problem. They were an instant success with not a single wet mattress since. Selena does now complain at times that she's permanently in diapers but I think it's a worthwhile exchange for that night time security." Fatima got in touch with us from Arizona, "I bought Supersoft Fluffies for my own use and didn't know I couldn't undo them myself. The first one I tried was totally saturated before I gave up and waddled out of my room to ask my housemate to help. She laughed but found the override easy to use. I had to promise to let her put me in a new one before she'd change me and I'm now on my third pack. Is there any way to override them myself?" Supersoft Fluffies are even popular internationally. Hannah from Germany shared her experiences, "Hilfe, wie kann ich die Inkontinenz aufhalten? Mein Freund sagt, er habe es satt, meine Windel zu wechseln und es ist sehr teuer, neue zu kaufen" But we think Charlene from Florida says it best, "Oh thank you thank you thank you for Supersoft Fluffies <3<3<3<3<3<3<3" So order yours online today at http://SupersoftFluffiesForLife.com or Like us on InstaTwitFace for a free sample pack.

It wasn't the first time I'd spread my legs and penetrated myself for erotic purposes. Some needs kick in when you're all alone, and there's no shame in seeking the simple pleasures in life. I had made sure I was all alone. I'd kicked out my last boyfriend months before, made sure I picked a week no friends had birthdays, turned down a couple of invitations and booked the whole week off work. This was between me and my cat, and she wasn't likely to tell anybody. I looked closely at the plastic implement in my hands. Only a few inches long but abnormally slim, barely wider than a thick wire. Still, I reflected, it was going into a very delicate part of me and slender as it was I was still feeling nervous and tense. Unsure how long it would stay sterile now I'd removed it from its packaging I didn't dare delay further and, using a finger to find the spot, carefully started to insert it into my urethra. I'd been looking for a way to force incontinence on myself for a few years. I had long been curious how I'd cope with incontinence, and aroused by the thought that I'd be dependent on diapers, a full loss of control. At the same time I had the sanity to know that this would not be good, and so my research had focussed on how I might achieve only temporary incontinence. Hypnosis tapes weren't even a consideration. Not because they'd be irreversible but because I couldn't believe they'd actually work. Similarly just wearing and using diapers could condition me to relax and not care, but that wasn't really any better than choosing when to go. Medication offered possibilities but diuretics just increased the flow. They didn't cause an actual loss of control. I'd tried a few too, although mainly to handle water retention: caffeine, dandelion, guarana, green tea, wondrous blends of herbs and spices; when you feel bloated once a month you try everything. Muscle relaxants were an interesting option but sustained use felt dangerous and I wasn't sure where to get them. Neural blockers could do the job but I didn't know an anaesthetist and wouldn't trust one that could agree to use them on someone just for fun. Obviously I didn't even explore the insanity of surgery. A fantasy situation of being forced by someone to wear diapers and prevented from removing them didn't translate to real life. Which left catheters. Explicitly designed to allow unfettered relief to the bladder, liquid leaving as quickly as it enters, exiting the body through a small tube. Except that there were multiple risks with repeated catheter use, infections and the risk of muscle damage, the potential for serious health complications or actual permanent incontinence. Not something I wanted to risk and anyway, you could direct a catheter into a drainage bag or just plug the tube. Technically I was now violating myself with a catheter. This was a one-off, the risks worth the substantial reward it would deliver. I'd followed the instructions, used ice to numb the area and rubbed in a recommended gel that applied benzocaine and lidocaine as topical analgesics, but I could still feel the progress of the plastic into my body, the discomfort becoming pain and reaffirming my decision not to use catheters for incontinence. This one wouldn't do that. It was too small and lacked an opening through which the bladder could empty. Its role was instead delivery of the tiny device I'd finally found on sale, a reputable healthcare company promoting its use and selling it through their retail website. They'd provided a syringe containing sterile water, whatever that is, which I'd attached to the end of the narrow tube. Once the bright band on the catheter reached my body, indicating it had achieved the required depth inside me, I stopped, drew in a deep breath and forced myself to think about what I was about to do. Pressing the plunger would force the water into the catheter, inflating its internal sacs that were now inside my urethra. Those were wrapped by the device I'd bought, a bioresorbable stent, and by inflating the sacs it would be expanded, pushed wide open inside me, its construction designed to prevent subsequent closure. My urethra would be held open until the stent was absorbed by my body, allowed my muscles to regain control, prevent the flow of liquid from my bladder. Did I really want this? The device guidance stated 4-6 weeks before absorption was sufficient for the device to collapse and allow resumed control. This was my final chance to stop, be sensible, avoid several weeks of forced and unavoidable incontinence. All that research, the expense of the device, the planning I'd done; I wasn't going to back out now. I pressed the plunger, felt a strange sensation inside me, committed myself to a new experience. Too late to change my mind, I lay back on my bed. Contorting myself to watch what I was doing and monitor the progress of that bright band had been uncomfortable and there was still mild pain and some discomfort from the procedure but it was mental relief I needed for the moment. I had actually done it, the device's design meant nothing short of surgery could undo it and, if it worked as advertised, I now had a stent extended beyond my internal and external urethral sphincters holding them irrevocably open. Well, for a few weeks anyway. In other words, I was now incontinent. I shivered, shook my head, found my throat dry. I had avoided drinking anything for nearly seven hours now, so that I could be sure I'd emptied my bladder before doing this, and now it was over I was feeling thirsty. There was more to though than simple dehydration, some form of psychosomatic symptom translating my mental turmoil into corporeality. I reached back down and pulled the plunger back out from the syringe, a built-in stopper letting me know it had returned to its original position, and that meant it had drawn the water back out from the sacs, allowing them to deflate. To test this I pulled tentatively at the catheter and it slid easily out of me, looking even slimmer now it had deployed its payload deep inside. Using a finger I poked at myself, trying to feel the stent. The residual soreness flared back into pain, discouraged me from further exploration, but otherwise everything felt normal down there. Maybe everything was normal, if my plan had failed. It seemed sensible to assume the plan had worked, and that I no longer had bladder control. Leaning over to my bedside table I picked up the disposable diaper I'd left there, knowing it would be the first thing I needed after completing the procedure. Fastening it should have been a familiar activity, well practiced through years of intentional use, and physically I went through my normal process. Despite that I knew this was very different, and that for the first time in my life I was putting myself in a diaper because I needed it, because I'd use it whether I wanted to or not, because I could not choose otherwise. Safely secured in the diaper I pulled on my favourite nightie, tidied up my room and threw away the catheter and syringe. I could finally have a drink, although this late in the evening I opted to stick with water, avoid the stimulation tea or coffee would offer. Doing this so late in the day was very intentional, so that I could sleep away the exhaustion I had known the nervous tension of the situation would cause. My light supper finished I went to bed, pulled up my nightie and checked my diaper. I hadn't felt myself use it, but didn't know whether I'd be able to tell or not. The diaper was dry but I wasn't: now that I was hydrated and had time to assimilate my new situation I was receptive to the underlying driver for this strange self-imposed disability. "I'm incontinent," I said out loud, speaking to myself in the darkness. I could have said those words any time, but this time they were true, and that cut through me. My hand slipped inside my diaper and, well, sometimes fingers and thoughts are all you need. Forty minutes later it was obvious I'd messed up. As my earlier hormonal boost wore off, the discomfort returned and I found myself unable to sleep, instead just lying there fretting for no reason, worrying that I'd been destructively stupid and caused myself permanent damage. I tried to console myself, retread the decision process that had brought me there, assured myself the risks were minimal and that it was all worthwhile, but logic plays no role when insomnia forces you to face the darkest hours. Eventually fatigue overcame the discomfort and I drifted into a disjointed slumber, multiple fractured dreams that finally gave way to deep sleep. Dawn came and went, and midway through the morning a natural awakening gave me a gentle start to the day. Struggling with multiple initial demands from my brain I rapidly sorted my thoughts and answered the immediate questions. The clock said it was nearly 11am, yes I had really done that last night and.. oh! My diaper was very wet. I couldn't remember using it. The stent was working! I sat up and stretched both arms towards the ceiling, a mute celebration that ended as I allowed myself to fall back onto the bed. Was I actually incontinent? I decided to quickly shower, pull on a clean diaper and enjoy plenty to drink with my breakfast so that as the morning progressed I'd find out. Hmm. Make that brunch, and maybe the afternoon. Pulling my nightie off I headed into the bathroom to shower and took off my diaper there. Bending to pick it up for rolling, sealing and disposal I froze and looked at it in horror. Yes, I'd wet overnight but urine isn't that colour. I'd clearly bled in it too - and I was still two weeks away from my next period. Panicking I ran through the house to find my computer, then ran back to the bathroom, grabbed a towel and returned to my computer. Sat on the towel I opened my browser, clicked on the bookmark I'd visited so often before and feverishly read through the guidance notes for the stent. They said nothing about issues after insertion so I clicked on the search bar, entered the brand name and a single simple keyword: "bleeding". The first two results didn't help but the third was a FAQ on the manufacturer's website, something I wish I'd seen before. I clicked through and read quickly, then sat back back and almost collapsed with relief. The catheter caused internal irritation, light bleeding was normal for the first couple of hours, and no cause for concern. Feeling a bit happier I got up and took the unsoiled towel back to the bathroom, where I put it to its intended use drying me after a welcome shower. Back into a new disposable I enjoyed my brunch. Fruit, a cereal bar and some juice with a large cup of coffee was my normal start to the day and I added some toasted cheese so that I wouldn't need to eat again until evening. I'd planned for a quiet day, no chores to do, just my book, some TV and the jigsaw I was putting together on the dining room table. Half an hour after drinking my coffee I could feel my diaper was wet. It was a modern design, discreetly thin until used when it would swell to alarming proportions, almost forcing a waddle as I walked. It hadn't reached that stage but had swollen enough for me to notice, and I'd been waiting for that. I'd felt no demands from my body, at no point had I needed to relieve my bladder; it had happily just emptied itself, the diaper the only reason my couch hadn't been soiled. But my immediate concern was whether I was still bleeding so I took off my skirt, untaped the diaper and pulled the front of it down. My diaper was wet all right but there was no blood. I hadn't damaged myself, I was just incontinent. That thought sent a shiver through me and, well, my hand was busy again. As the day progressed my thoughts turned to the next few weeks. Work didn't alarm me, even a wet diaper wouldn't be easily detected under one of my smart dresses, or a flared skirt. Any men that noticed could be easily put off with just two words: 'Lady problems'. The women might want more detail but I had a cover story prepared, one in which my own clumsiness with a self-administered swab had caused complications. That would earn me sympathy, should it be needed, but you don't probe too deeply on such topics at work. Outside of work I needed to be more careful. Friends and family might notice, although the same cover story would suffice. I didn't have a choice now anyway, I'd be leaking whether I wore a diaper or not. Carrying a large purse wasn't my normal style but I had one that would hold a couple of spare diapers and a small packet of wipes. Diaper rash might be a concern but I could handle that at home, and voluntary use of diapers had taught me how to reduce the chances of it happening at all. Long before dinner I decided the diaper needed changing. This was rather strange for me, intentional use gave me control over how wet a diaper got, and when it would need to be changed. This diaper had just incrementally become wetter as the day progressed, each drink exacerbating its condition with no intended input from me. I'd have to get used to that, start to better monitor my diaper's state and learn how to avoid over saturation, prevent leaks. Another change before bed, a thicker diaper even when dry, intended for extended overnight use. I wanted a good night's sleep after all, and I knew a full bladder wouldn't be waking me. The diaper did its job, my bed dry when I woke, an evening's drinks safely absorbed by the thirsty padding. A week off work was a holiday even when I stayed at home. Being stuck in diapers wasn't going to stop me enjoying it, and the next two days were spent visiting the stately gardens of a nearby Hall and thoroughly enjoying a shopping trip. The diapers did their job, didn't cause me any distress, just became a part of my life. Trying on clothes was a tense affair the first time I picked out a new skirt, but by the fourth shop I was treating the diapers as I would my normal underwear, something I kept discreet but otherwise perfectly normal. Using the toilet still happened, that once a day need. When I was out it would have seemed more frequent but that was so that I could change into a clean diaper. I used the disabled toilets, the extra space extremely helpful. At some point it was likely I'd get challenged by someone thinking I shouldn't be using those, and I'd have to decide whether to reveal my diaper or not. That decision was one I was putting off, hoping it wouldn't be needed. It was when I got home from the shopping trip that I suffered my first leak. I knew I'd get one eventually, that they're unavoidable if you're wearing diapers, but it wasn't something I wanted or looked forward to. Extra laundry, my leather couch needing a wipe clean, the carpet needing more than a wipe. Another thing to get used to for the next few weeks. I sighed, regretting the vicious reality of a diaper dependency even as I felt a thrill at being reminded of it. The next morning I was woken by a telephone call. "Good morning, I'm sorry to bother you." He identified himself as a doctor at the healthcare provider from whom I'd bought the stent. "Could you confirm some details for me?" he asked. Yes, he was talking to the right person. Yes, I had bought the stent. Yes, I had used it. "Ah," he said, ominously, "I was hoping we might have caught you before you inserted it." This worried me. It's never good to hear something like that from a doctor. "Umm. Why? Is there a problem?" I asked nervously. "Oh, no," he replied, "Is it performing as expected?" "Yes," I said, "full incontinence. I have no control at all for the next 4-5 weeks." "I see. Are you finding this manageable?" he asked. "It's something I planned for," I admitted. Hell, they sold it for this purpose, this wasn't the time to be shy. "But you said you were hoping I hadn't used the stent. What's happening? Why did you call?" "Well, we tested the stent extensively before it went on sale," he said, "Obviously we have regulatory approval to market it and the prototypes had no problems at all." This didn't sound good. "The prototypes?" I challenged, "What about the production ones? What do I have inside me?" "You have one of our production devices," he confirmed, "but we've identified a manufacturing issue in the batch yours is from. Now, don't be alarmed, this..." "Don't be alarmed?!" I shouted, cutting him off, "what sort of issue? Stop prevaricating, tell me what you've done to me!" "We haven't done anything!" he said defensively. "What is inside me?" I demanded. "It's a fully functional stent. The only change from what you're expecting is that it's unlikely to take 4-6 weeks to be reabsorbed," he told me. "What? Well how long then?" I asked, "How long will I remain like that?" "It may be the full 4-6 weeks," he said, hesitantly, "but our models suggest that it absorption will be much quicker. Your stent is very likely only going to last 4-6 days." Relief almost crushed me. I'd been fearing the worse, and he hadn't delivered it. "Oh thank goodness," I said, "Why didn't you just tell me that to start? You had me panicking." "I'm sorry," he said, "This is difficult for me too. I can assure you that we will give you any support you need should the device cease to operate ahead of schedule, including providing you with a replacement should that be something you desire." That made me pause to think. The reality of incontinence was proving very inconvenient, constant diaper changes and the leak last night was just annoying, but it was also something I'd expected and did feel I could cope with. However I'd always intended this to be temporary so would a few days be all I needed? "I'm not sure," I said, "if it fails early then this is something we can perhaps discuss?" "Of course," he reassured. He gave me a direct number, told me to ring him if I had any concerns, gave me another assurance that they would provide me with support. I guessed they were worried about legal action. A medical device that failed substantially early could get them in all sorts of trouble. But their failure might be my release, freedom from constantly wetting myself. For the moment that freedom was still denied to me. Even at the lower end I had at least another day of incontinence to survive. Or enjoy. I put it to good use, a long walk through a national park. It required my first outdoor diaper change, the nearest public toilet a few miles away and my diaper too sodden to risk wearing further. There was nobody in sight but I was still nervous. I had never been naked in public, and this wasn't simple nakedness, it was a diaper change. Leaving the track I hid behind thick bushes and undid the clips on my dungarees, lowering the bib to my waist and sliding them down to reveal my diaper. Fortunately this wasn't my first standing diaper change and I quickly had a clean one on, knowing it wouldn't stay that way but grateful for the momentary comfort. Quickly dressing again I returned to the track and found myself still alone, my worried precautions unnecessary. That night I went to bed in another thick diaper, a onesie keeping my hands at bay, the babyish attire preventing very adult behaviour. Even as that thought amused me I realised that the diapers weren't arousing me any more. They were now just a part of my life, frequently uncomfortable, sometimes annoying, but never a source of genuine happiness. At that point I made my decision: When the stent was absorbed I'd return to using the toilet, revert back to using diapers only voluntarily, when I genuinely desired. That wasn't the next day. I didn't panic, it could still be another five weeks yet, and although I was ready to discard diapers it was always intended to be many weeks before that would be an option. In good heart I finished my jigsaw, took a photograph, went shopping for a new one. The next morning things were different. I woke up early, severe discomfort down below. It took me a minute to get out of my onesie, undo the diaper, take a look inside. Immediately I felt sick, found myself on the edge of tears, stared at the blood soaking the diaper. It was still a week until my period was due, and I'd worn a diaper for that before, knew it didn't look like this. Forcing myself to be calm I took a shower, fastened a new diaper on, dressed myself to go out and called the doctor. "Good morning," he said, after I'd introduced myself, "How are you doing? Is the stent being absorbed?" "I don't know," I said, and described my morning's findings. "Ok, stop there," he told me, "I'm going to send one of our ambulances to pick you up, and we're going to give you a full examination." I guess that's the advantage of buying dodgy devices from a large healthcare provider. They have facilities all over, including one near enough to me that I was there under an hour later, my diaper on display to two nurses and a female doctor. Then it was just me on display, that awkward uncomfortable pose, legs akimbo, cold metal invading me in a very personal way. Strange scans followed, xrays and something else. A large machine, loud noises, the operator hiding behind a protective shield. I was already back in a diaper by then, the blood clearly coming from my urethra but diluted by more normal waste, something I still couldn't control. Instinctively I had tried and it caused pain, as though I was being pricked by a needle deep inside. That was five days ago. The sharp stabbing pain has gone now, but the scar tissue remains. The manufacturing error meant the stent wasn't properly absorbed, had instead broken up inside me, solid fragments cutting into me from the inside. They've said that surgery wouldn't help, that the scar tissue means a catheter isn't an option, that it might heal by itself. They wouldn't say how long that might take. At least I wasn't in pain any more, even the discomfort had faded. I'd fantasised for so long about being incontinent, carefully arranged to temporarily experience it, enjoyed that fleeting wish fulfilment. I shifted uncomfortably, realised my diaper needed changing again. I wasn't enjoying it now, the terrible reality of needing diapers, repeatedly wetting them, hour after hour, day after day. They'd promised to keep me well supplied, my choice of diapers from their range for as long as I needed. That was the problem. I didn't know how long I'd need it. They didn't either, couldn't even promise me my last remaining hope: That it would end, that I'm not now stuck in diapers permanently. It wasn't the first time I'd spread my legs and wiped myself clean between them, replaced a soaked diaper with a fresh clean one. It certainly wasn't going to be the last..

"No! Stop! Please... argh!" Natasha convulsed helplessly, grasping for his wrists, wriggling to avoid his probing fingers. It didn't help her, his greater strength pinning her down and he remorselessly tickled her just above her hips. Flailing uncontrollably Natasha felt pain as her forearm made contact, realised she'd caught him, heard a horrible wet grinding sound. He screamed, a terrible sound, and fell back, freeing her. His hands went to his face, and already she could see blood passing through his fingers. "Oh my god!" she exclaimed, "I'm so sorry. Are you ok?" Ice and cloths to mop up the blood brought his bleeding under control. He looked at her, obviously in pain, his proud nose now pointing sideways, and Natasha's heart sank. "Come on," she said, "Lets get you to the hospital." The triage nurse rapidly assessed him. "We'll be with you soon," she assured, "please wait here." Natasha went to find them both drinks, brought back coffee, found him sat there wincing, blinking up at her and shaking his head as she arrived. "I'm so sorry," she said again, "but you'll be ok." "You're sorry?" asked a voice, "You didn't..?" Natasha turned, found a smartly dressed woman stood there, a name tag identifying her as a doctor. "I didn't mean to," explained Natasha, "He was tickling me and.." "Well, lets get him sorted," said the doctor. "Could you wait here and we'll be back soon." That was the last Natasha saw of him until the trial. -- "He was just tickling you?" asked the prosecutor. "Yes," replied Natasha, not offering further detail. "And you've been together how long?" "A few months." Natasha knew it was five months, two weeks and three days but her legal defence team had told her to provide only short terse answers. The prosecutor seemed satisfied anyway, but continued with his questioning "Are intimacy and displays of affection part of your relationship?" "Oh, yes," said Natasha in surprise, "he's really very sweet." "So why," demanded the prosecutor, "did you assault him?" The judge hadn't been sympathetic. "Domestic violence has no excuses," he stated, "and so I have choice but to impose a custodial sentence." The judicial system demanded punishments appropriate to the crime. Natasha pleaded with the judge, "Please, don't break my nose. I'll behave, agree to your sentence, but please, show mercy." The judge knew she would make this plea; he'd discussed it with the prosecutor and her defence team. The prosecutor had suggested an alternative but still suitable option. "For the next four weeks," he told her, "You will be taken from your cell twice a day and subjected to half an hour of tickling." Natasha gasped, but said nothing. Better than a broken nose, awful but tolerable. Just four weeks and she'd be free again, able to resume her life. At least she'd get respite on Sundays. -- "She what?" asked the Governor in astonishment, "She actually struck you?" "Yes," replied the guard, "It was her first tickling session. We followed standard procedure, let her lie on the padded workbench, and then I went to work." "So Natasha," asked the Governor directly looking at her, "Why did you assault my member of staff?" "I didn't mean to," sniffled Natasha, sank low in her seat, a submissive posture even without the shackles restricting her movement. "It's.. when I'm tickled.. I can't help it." "You're saying that you have no control?" asked the Governor, "That does not excuse assault, and you should have asked us for help with this." His verdict made Natasha's heart sink. Another four weeks, and he assured her that the punishment regime would be continued. But that wasn't the worse part. "You must promise not to attack my staff," he demanded. "I promise. Oh, I don't want this to continue," sobbed Natasha, "But.. when I'm tickled. I can't help it." "Are you saying you can't control yourself?" asked the Governor. "Umm. Yes. Help?" begged Natasha. "We can't forego the tickling," said the Governor. "We can however restrain you for your own protection, if that's what you want?" Natasha blushed as she realised the Governor expected her to ask to be restrained. "I, erm. Oh." She paused, looked around the room, desperate to escape the situation. The Governor waited patiently, impassive. He knew he couldn't force her into restraints, his options limited to punishment should she further misbehave. Natasha knew she would have to do it. "Umm. Can you please restrain me when I'm tickled?" she asked, and immediately burst into tears. -- The cuffs were strangely comfortable. The ones around Natasha's ankles were tethered to the bench with long ropes, allowing her to wriggle and move her legs; just not kick out at someone stood by her waist. Her wrists were fastened above her head, again on tethers that let her bring her hands to her own face, rub away the tears that had formed as they fastened her down. The cuffs and tethers were strong too. She tested them fully when the tickling started, her fight or flight instincts demanding action, refusing to let her just lie there, accept the torment. Her struggles were futile. The tickling continued, gentle but relentless, the guard trying to avoid hurting her but make her laugh. The laughing hurt. Halfway through the session the guard jumped back. "Oh, you dirty," she shouted, before regaining control and stopping. She glared at Natasha and gestured to a damp patch on her uniform. "You pissed on me! Oh, that's not good." The Governor agreed. "You promised not to assault my staff," he said, "and attacking them with urine is a revolting assault." "I didn't meant to! I couldn't help it! I must have lost control." Natasha wept as she admitted wetting herself, horrified as much by that as the inevitable consequences it had for her. "I've heard this before," observed the Governor, "and you know the response." Another four weeks. She'd been there less than a day and already Natasha had managed to triple her term. "But I can't help it," she whined, "you have to understand." "Oh, I understand," said the Governor, "But fitting the punishment to the crime here would be unsanitary. I can't ask the guards to urinate on you." Natasha was shocked into silence. She'd imagined more tickling, and suddenly realised she might be facing something much worse. "I can however impose a punishment that's suitable to the offence," said the Governor, "You claim you can't help wet on people? Well you can wet yourself." -- Natasha pulled futilely at her bonds. Three weeks in and she still couldn't stand the tickling, couldn't stop struggling, still needed those soft restraints that kept her safe, stopped her extending her sentence. "Oh dear, did someone just wet herself?" taunted the guard, pausing the tickling to pat the padding over Natasha's pubic mound. Natasha moaned, realising that she'd lost control another way, again. She knew she'd have wet herself eventually, the 24 hour regime of wearing diapers excused only for bowel movements, and even those occasionally catching her unawares. The tickling resumed and Natasha started laughing, forced to exhibit amusement at her suffering. Even that wasn't what concerned her. After hearing about the outcome of the first session the judge had added an additional rider to her sentence: Natasha would have to endure her final tickling with no restraints, and demonstrate that she had the control needed to be safe for release. If she failed, the sentence would be renewed. Natasha knew she was in trouble. In nine weeks and every four weeks after that, she faced being sentenced to another four weeks of tickling, knowing she would be diapered, forced to beg for restraints to hold her in place as she was subject to the humiliation of wetting herself, again and again.

Being raped isn't meant to be fun. Sure, I had the same rape fantasies so many women enjoy, that yearning for a strong relentless man to take me against my will, the imagined degradation more arousing than the act itself. But those fantasies should always stay that way; nobody pretends the reality would be like that. It wasn't. In a way I was lucky. Being raped could easily have destroyed my self confidence, left me fearful of men, a perpetual victim at a psychological level. Instead, in a surprisingly superior alternative, I was gang raped. I'd still have taken the "Not tonight, thanks" option, had it been available. If I had been given a choice. Instead they overpowered me. If I'd been raped I would have felt guilt at not resisting enough, wishing I'd struggled more. You can't struggle with a man on each arm, another two tugging at an ankle each, others watching and laughing. I could have shouted but there was nobody to hear, nobody that could come and help, so I saved my energy. They didn't like that, they wanted me to scream. I didn't care what they wanted; they were getting more than they deserved anyway. Don't ask me to describe the physical experience. Sure, they were kind enough to use sunflower oil. They weren't kind enough to not need it. I started off in denial, trying to pretend it wasn't happening. It was happening, and that left me in horror, gasping as I tugged futilely with my held limbs. But by the time the third had dropped his trousers I'd come to terms with it, and that's where the blessing of having so many of them revealed itself. I got bored. Somehow my brain dissociated itself from the vicious misuse of my body and instead I ended up analysing the situation, looking closely at the men. It helped, later, when I described them to the police, picked them out of identity parades. It didn't help at the time, when I actually laughed at one that couldn't perform. He didn't rape me, just kicked my leg. That hurt, but it'll heal. The final man was the one that really hurt me. "I don't want no sloppy seconds," he declared. Too right, although rather more than seconds. I could almost empathise with him on that. But not on how he chose to avoid it: He asked his friends to flip me over, and I lost a different virginity. Even that wasn't degrading. By then I just wanted it all over with, one way or another. But this last man didn't use the lubricant, impromptu though it was. He used rough force, enough that it must have hurt him too, left me surprised he could continue after that initial pain. He's the one that did the damage. The others hurt me too; the police report included words like abrasions, bleeding, inflammation and some that were new to me like haematoma and hymenal cleft. Those would mostly heal, no long term damage. Not physical damage anyway. That was the other part of the police report. More words like bruising and swelling, but also 'fissures' and the three that mattered: pudendal nerve damage. The doctors tell me that those are the primary cause of my new incontinence. No, I don't wet myself. The other sort. They've promised treatment. Electrical stimulation, but they sounded sceptical even as they described it. Physiotherapy, possible medications, potentially even surgery. But none of that was possible until the other damage healed. The fissures are the key issue, even with care they're going to take over a month, maybe two. I can handle that. I might even be out of diapers by the time of the trial. If my lawyer lets me - she wants me to look like a victim. I might not have a choice; the doctors didn't sound hopeful, even when they were trying to convince me. It's strange, rape fantasies never leave you in diapers. Let alone for life.

Kirsty knew all about blowouts. Anybody with small children knew. It wasn't something anybody was ever taught, you learned about them the hard way. A blowout wouldn't happen while a child was safely tucked away in a cot, secure, within easy reach of a change of clothes, a washing machine, a clean diaper. No, blowouts happened in public, when it was least convenient, the child in ignorant bliss of the horror it had just caused. The weird thing was that friends didn't realise the problem. "Oh dear, someone needs Mommy," they'd declare, confident that Mommy could cope, would quickly and efficiently return the gorgeous tot to full cuteness. It was the parent that had to deal with the mess, the way the explosion had shot up out of the back of the diaper, somehow leaked at the legs, ruined the tights, the diaper shirt, the pretty dress. Experienced parents knew to take a change of clothing, as well clean diapers. The cafe, the village hall, the doctor's waiting room; they were someone else's problem, they had staff to clean them. Kirsty had raised three children and they had all been her problem, their comfort and cleanliness something she had to provide, and even if they didn't know what they'd done, she did, and she had to deal with it. So when someone else was the parent, Kirsty reflected that she should at the minimum not be dismayed. It wasn't her problem, she wouldn't have to replace the soiled clothing, gently wipe the skin, pretend this was a normal run of the mill diaper change. Unfortunately she felt only distress, the realisation that this was a full blowout, and that the Mommy hadn't even noticed. "Ewwww," she said, "That's smelly!" It was a white lie. The food was somehow treated; extra bulk, less smell, same awful stickiness. In a way it helped, made filling a diaper a more private function, fewer people sniffing loudly and declaring, "Oh dear, someone needs Mommy." Alice turned and looked at Kirsty. "Oh dear," she said sympathetically, "Does someone need Mommy?" Kirsty groaned. No shit someone needed 'Mommy'. She knew better than to say that, three different punishments would come from that single retort. Instead she forced a smile to join the frown on her face, looked up at Alice and provided a carefully neutral reply, "Mommy..." Alice did that adult thing of pausing to change expression, going for the sympathetic look in an obvious 'I'd better show sympathy' way. She turned back to her friend Julie, begged forgiveness for a moment and walked over to where Kirsty was strapped immobile in a push chair. Undoing the straps long enough to lean Kirsty forward, she flipped up the back of the short dress and immediately wrinkled her nose. "Holy mother of.." she exclaimed, before her voice trailed off. She looked across to Julie and called out, "You would not believe this! It's a full scale blowout. We're going to have to find a bathroom." Kirsty knew all about blowouts. She hadn't expected to suffer one, be the subject of that humiliating call across the park, see her friend Tracey look across in horror. Tracey knew all about blowouts too, and had never even had children. Sometimes people learn about them the very hard way. Carefully standing up Tracey started to waddle towards Kirsty. The look of sympathy on her face was genuine, and Kirsty knew she wanted to provide comfort and commiserations. She just didn't want them, was embarrassed enough already, just wanted to get clean. "Tracey! Come back here." demanded Julie. Tracey stopped, looked at Kirsty in consternation, clearly torn between friendship and the fear of disobedience. Friendship doesn't come with punishments though so when she turned and unsteadily made her way back to Julie, Kirsty silently shared thanks. The world turned around her, and Kirsty could no longer see her friend. Alice had wheeled her around and was pushing her determinedly up the path. "Come on Sweetie," she said, "Lets get you clean and beautiful again." Kirsty knew all about beautiful too. This wasn't something she had ever claimed, and although the occasional unguarded look on Alice's face showed genuine affection and the love of a mother, she couldn't believe a thick diaper and pigtails made her beautiful now. Sure, the portal had changed her body, the tired lines and stretch marks of a well used body in its forties gone, replaced by a beach ready body that looked - and felt - in its late teens. Her new body's lithe youthfulness was spoiled by poor muscle definition and wide, broad hips, which she'd decided were worth the chance to feel young again, but she was being treated as even younger, nearer 18 months than 18 years. But beautiful? No. Not with the freckles she'd somehow acquired, even if they did help her face match the outfits she was forced to wear. "Why the frown, gorgeous?" asked Alice. "You're much prettier when you smile, it really lights up your eyes. Julie says she loves your face when you smile, the dimples and freckles make you just adorable." Kirsty had heard this before, so many times she'd lost count. She'd lost count of many things, repeated humiliations, public embarrassments and private mortification. Her memory was good, mentally she was in surprisingly good health, adapting well to what had once been so strange a situation. She didn't seem to be aging here, her body retaining its youthful elegance, no matter how many years passed, the promise of the advertisement kept, and that promise extended to her brain, keeping her sharp and aware. Sadly aware. The advert hadn't mentioned that her young body would not be under her control, that forced adoption by someone claiming to be her new Mommy was inevitable, that her perpetual youth would be lived in perpetual babyhood. Yes, she was aware of that. A good memory still loses track of the prosaic, the things each day holds, the forced feedings, the mornings trapped in a playpen and the afternoon naps. Even the changing of a diaper becomes mundane, an uncomfortable embarrassment replaced by another, a temporary respite from dismal damp. "Here we are," gushed Alice, pointlessly telling her charge they'd reached the bathroom. Kirsty knew this building, knew the flap inside that folded down from the wall, knew she fit easily onto it and that she couldn't undo the strap that would hold her in place. She'd lost count of the diaper changes even just here, the trips to the park seldom short enough for her to stay clean throughout. Kirsty wasn't incontinent. At least, she hadn't been. Giving birth had weakened her control but she had still had it, just the occasional emergency dash to the nearest toilet. Coming through the portal fixed even that, and for a few hours she'd revelled in the choice she had to delay those bathroom breaks, no longer hostage to the nearest facilities. It was a naive joy, replaced by a permanent delay. She couldn't remember the last time she'd used a toilet, never needed the facilities. She didn't know if she had control any more, after days, weeks and months of only using a diaper the body stops worrying about such an irrelevance. Strapped to the padded shelf Kirsty looked up and reached out to Alice. She hated playing the cutesy toddler but it made Alice happy, and a happy Alice treated her much better. "No Darling," apologised Alice, "Mommy has to get you clean first. We can cuddle afterwards." Kirsty lowered her arms again, her simple point made, and really she was glad Alice had that priority. The park path wasn't smooth and every bump, every little jolt had transmitted through the pushchair into her diaper, reminding her its revolting contents, spreading it further. Her unwelcome, repetitious and intimate familiarity with being soiled had inured her somewhat to the situation but she still hated it, wanted it gone. She felt the diaper shirt being unfastened between her legs, her tights pulled down, then her shoes being removed and the tights taken off completely. "Oh my," sighed Alice, "you can't wear those again." She pulled out a small plastic bag, normally used for dirty diapers, and put the filthy clothing in it. She unstrapped Kirsty, lifted her up and stripped the dress and onesie off her. Kirsty stood there, wearing just a heavy diaper and pale blue ribbons, in her hair. She watched Alice examine the clothing, saw for herself the horrible state of her onesie, prayed it wouldn't be put back on her. Alice fortunately reached the same conclusion, thrust it into the same bag containing the tights. "Even your dress is dirty, but it's just a small patch by the hem. I'll wash that down Sweetie, or you'll have to go home in just your diaper." Kirsty knew better than to comment on her clothing, but allowed a quiet smile to show her satisfaction with the compromise. The day was warm and, while she was permanently in diapers, and she knew that in the pushchair her dress would ride up and reveal her shame to passers-by, she still wanted it on, even the smallest concession to covering her diaper was worthwhile. But first, she wanted a clean diaper. "What's wrong Kirsty?" begged Alice, obvious concern lining her face. Kirsty realised with horror that she'd let her true feelings show in her facial expression, right as she'd been mentally berating herself for falling into the mental trap of wanting a diaper, rather than just wanting to be taken out of this dirty one. Kirsty recovered fast. She'd learned well, knew how important it was to keep Alice on her side, knew the buttons to push. "Sticky!" she sniffed, concentrating on not saying any more than that, and especially not asking to be changed. Alice melted a little, reached forward and gave Kirsty a quick hug around the shoulders. "Awww, you poor thing," she acknowledged, "Lets get you out of that horrible diaper." For once the pair shared a moment, full uninamity, all guile and pretence unnecessary as they looked at each other in agreement. A swift change, Alice well practiced, soft wipes quickly leaving Kirsty's skin smooth and pristine, a light dusting of powder and clean padding, firmly fastened, securely sealing Kirsty into a gently scented leakproof prison that she knew would soon be a torment once more. "There," celebrated Alice, pulling Kirsty's dress back on and giving her the promised hug, "all clean and beautiful." Sure, thought Kirsty. Until the next time. She knew there'd be a next time, it was inevitable, unavoidable, one of the few certainties in her new life. Yes, Kirsty knew all about blowouts.

Taming Your Amazon or How to Survive and Thrive When Little : A Pamphlet from the Little Liberation Front Foreword This publication is targeted at Littles entering or already within an asymmetric relationship with one or more Amazons. Although ending the relationship is frequently the primary goal in such a situation this is seldom achievable without substantial effort and elapsed time. Through understanding and adopting approaches from this guidance, a Little can minimise their chances of forced regression, entering an orphanage or undergoing irreversible physical or mental deterioration. Chapter 1 : Understanding Your Amazon Congratulations! You are now the proud beneficiary of your very own Amazon who, with the right treatment, can provide you with years of entertainment, security and emotional support. Rule One : Your Amazon Loves You In almost all cases it is a female Amazon that adopts a Little [1], and we will assume you have acquired a typical female. She will be genetically incapable of caring for a Little without falling in love, and very likely lost all emotional control even before you became family. This love will guide almost all of her actions, even the ones that cause (or that you feel cause) you harm. Understanding this is key to manipulating those actions and minimising perceived or actual harm. Your safety and happiness do actually matter to her, and these are levers you can use to your own benefit; subsequent chapters explore specific scenarios in which this can occur. Even more powerful though is that your Amazon will love you even more, and be far more amenable to your needs and desires, if she feels that love is reciprocal. This should thus always be an immediate target, with vestiges of love - fake or otherwise - demonstrated within the first few days and a close loving relationship rapidly built. Case Study 1-Negative: Charlotte was captured in her mid-20s by a middle-aged Amazon couple and understandably hated her loss of autonomy and freedom. When the couple thought they were being kind by helping Lotty into diapers, pretty dresses and a comfy crib, she rebelled against them with constant screaming and physical resistance. Obviously this led to punishment diapers, hypnotic loss of continence, almost permanent pacifier use and a strained relationship with her couple. Sadly things broke down from there and after several weeks of increased detachment due to being put in daycare the Amazon couple conceded things weren't working and contacted their local orphanage. Charlotte was lost to the system. Case Study 1-Positive: Aiden got picked up before even applying to university but took a pragmatic view of his new family. He did his best to adapt to the life his Amazon wanted him to lead and quickly found ways that made her happy. This in turn assured her that he was perfect for her as he was, and although Aidy had to endure several years of being babied he eventually contacted the LLF and was able to regain his freedom. Aiden is already progressing well on his toilet training and now only wears diapers at night. As Aiden's case study demonstrates, knowing the individual drivers and goals of your Amazon can help tremendously in building rapport and surviving the early phases of a relationship. As with Littles, Amazons are very different individuals and will vary in how much time they want to spend having a cuddle, playing with their Little, pursuing their career and continuing the other elements of their life (career, social life, hobbies, etc). Rule Two : Be Her Baby Almost all relationships start with at least a week of full-time care, which is a great opportunity to learn about your Amazon and find out what she likes. The common element to all relationships though is that your Amazon will have entered it because she wants a baby. Be that baby for her. This will be challenging for you in many ways. There is the basic difficulty of acting like a baby, especially when adult impulses and responses drive you to different behaviour, but more fundamental is the apparent loss of identity. You are now her baby, with the name she gives you, and your Amazon will love you more if she feels you accept this. This doesn't change who you are. You haven't actually lost your identity, and do fiercely remember it inside. But do keep it inside, make her believe that you embrace her and the new family, and respond to your new name. Along with this, she will want you to call her Mommy. This is an area in which you can show some individuality, but only by picking your favourite from Mommy, Mama, Momma or another suitable term that indicates a mother-child relationship (or, for male Amazons, Daddy, Dada or Papa). While most Amazons (and their Littles) will prefer and be happy with Mommy many Amazons will find it endearing if you do pick a variant. Rule Two can be particularly challenging when the Little does not share a gender with the Amazon's preference for her baby. This is frequently an issue for male Littles, with baby girls considerably more popular than the adult Little gender ratio can support. Rule Two was nearly 'Act the Baby' to emphasise and reinforce that this is just an act, but instead became 'Be Her Baby' to emphasise that your act must portray you as she wants you to be. That means treating clothing styles and colours as props for your act, and if she wants you to be a baby girl, embrace the femininity of the role[2]. It is highly likely that your Amazon is more intelligent than you, but seldom sufficiently to be a barrier. She will still act and think with emotion in addition to intellect so engage her as a well-rounded person, assume she'll pick up non-verbal cues and help her learn quickly how to best satisfy her own instincts to make you safe and happy. [1] Insufficient research into male Amazon motivations means full guidance is not available at this moment in time. Most of the techniques in this pamphlet work equally well on males, although some caution may be required and the commentary on breastfeeding should be disregarded. [2] Fighting a gender mismatch is a terrible breach of Rule Two and commonly addressed through surgical alteration to bring physical characteristics into alignment with the Amazon's preferred baby gender. However if you do actually want physical reassignment, just ask! Chapter 2 : Apparel Glory in your new wardrobe! Amazons love buying new clothes for their Littles and will do their best to make you the envy of their friends. This can lead to discord, as Amazons have a distinct expectation on how a Little should be dressed. Rule Three : Never Remove Apparel You'll have to accept that frequently you're going to be put into clothing that you greatly dislike, is uncomfortable, and/or is humiliating to wear. Whether that's because you're a man being put into a lacy baby dress, or an adult woman forced into a onesie over a diaper, remember Rule Two and treat it as a prop for your act. Not to mention that sometimes it can be fun, and many Littles grow to love their pretty clothes. Avoid indicating displeasure with the clothing you've been made to wear. Instead show positivity towards the clothing you'd prefer to wear. If you like a dress or the romper suit you've been put in, pull gently at it and express your happiness with it. Rule One will lead to you getting to wear that more often, which means less time in the clothing you don't like. While shopping point at clothes and use a simple single word adjective to indicate your preference. Rule Two discourages lengthy descriptions of your aesthetic preferences but don't underestimate the power of 'yuck', 'pretty!' or 'nice' in helping your Amazon understand how to better make you happy. Your clothing will become soiled through play, mealtimes and sadly leaking diapers. It is fine to express muted distress regarding this, with a simple sad 'Dirty!' and a frown showing your displeasure without being interpreted as a tantrum. Unless explicitly told to play in a dirty situation (e.g. dropped into mudpit) do try and avoid intentionally causing soiling unless your Amazon delights in a grubby baby. One item of apparel that you will almost immediately become very intimate with will be your pacifier. There are many designs available, both aesthetically and functionally. It's important to demonstrate to your Amazon that you can be trusted to use a 'normal' pacifier as her instant escalation will be a locking one that you can't remove yourself. These can be very uncomfortable, often filling or even stretching the mouth. Rule Four : Your Pacifier is Your Friend While building your relationship your pacifier is a great way to moderate your own voice. Many Amazons think Littles should be silent, or restricted to a very limited vocabulary, so using the pacifier to limit your speech greatly aids acceptance. You can't say things that upset your Amazon if you can't talk, but the pacifier can help in other ways too. There's no actual difference between a quiet baby and the same baby with a pacifier in its mouth, but Amazons will instinctively assume the latter one is the better behaved. Chapter 4 will explore this further but making a good impression on other Amazons matters a lot, so setting their mental picture of you as well behaved is important. Beyond that, your own Amazon will think you delightful if you use a pacifier voluntarily, and will trust you much sooner as a result. Don't forget the other more obvious feature of pacifiers: They exist because they make real babies more relaxed, and quiet. That will work for you too; don't be ashamed of finding comfort in a quick suck. Case Study 2-Negative: Scarlett was a lithe athlete in her adult life and didn't adjust well to her new role. Because she was constrained so much to a crib, a high chair or a stroller she lost her muscle tone and developed a more babyish roundness. This delighted her Amazon but meant Letty was frequently dressed in unflattering romper suits or flat-chested dresses. Letty hated these and tried to remove them, causing multiple punishments that led to her spending more and more time restrained and unable to move freely. This vicious cycle means that Scarlett is miserable with her body shape and her clothing, and sadly now lacks the fitness to escape even with our help. Case Study 2-Positive: Jayden wanted to make a good impression from the start and didn't take notice of the clothes he wore. His Amazon often put a pacifier in his mouth so Jay kept it there until she removed it herself, and consciously allowed it to help him work through stressful situations. His Amazon often told him how happy she was that he was so well behaved and started to trust him even when out of the house. This has allowed Jayden to contact our network and permanently leave that relationship, although we notice he's retained and still enjoys using his pacifier. Some pacifiers will allow feeding or provision of medicine while worn. These are usually locking varieties and used situationally, so there is little choice but to accept them. The strategy here is to demonstrate that they're not needed through perceived good behaviour during those activities normally. You aren't the only person wearing apparel. Notice what your Amazon is wearing. Is she going to work, going on a date, dressed to play with you? Is that a new suit? Notice it, comment on it, compliment her. She'll appreciate it and you'll both feel a little happier. Chapter 3 : Emissions Great news! You are no longer responsible for any mess (or smell) you cause. Revel in the freedom this brings. Amazons genuinely don't think that Littles can control their own emissions. Any waste products or sickness is assumed to be beyond the conscious control of the baby (remember Rule Two) and appropriate mitigations provided. Sadly this does mean you should expect to spend most of your time in diapers. Rule Five : Use Your Diapers Here at the Little Liberation Front we have found this rule to be the most distressing for the people we're assisting, and yet it's also the one most likely to lead to at least a mild regression. Amazons worry if diapers are not constantly wet, and regularly filled, and will initially respond with food and then chemical based diuretics and laxatives. Within days though repeatedly dry diapers will inevitably lead to hypnotic or surgical adjustments that force diaper dependency, often for life. If you ever hope to have control over your body in the future, plan ahead by choosing to abandon it now. The first few days are critical, with multiple wet diapers every day causing delight in (and providing opportunities to physical bond with) your Amazon. Case Study 3-Negative: Benjamin wanted to build rapport with his Amazon and was careful to always have a wet diaper when she checked, and timed messing it for just ahead of his daily bath. He retained his bladder control by keeping his diaper dry until a check was likely then flooded it quickly in time for a change. Sadly for Bennie his Amazon caught onto the periodic nature of his wetting and messing and without him realising fitted a wetness detector. This demonstrated his retained control, something his carer found unhealthy and undesirable, and one day Bennie was taken to his local doctor. Our subsequent physical examination following Benjamin's escape shows that he'll never regain bladder or bowel control, although he can at least now choose his own diapers. Case Study 3-Positive: Evelyn kindly shared her experiences with our team even though she's declined the support and services we offer. From the outset Evie tried to relax and allow her body to wet or mess when it was ready, and has reported that this rapidly led to a loss of control. In her case her carer did not want messy diapers so she's been partially potty trained to (mostly) avoid those, but her early diaper use contributed to a strong loving bond with her new Mommy. As she is happy with her situation due to this relationship and her new family she's accepted being permanently in wet diapers. We consider this a positive outcome as although she's constantly in wet diapers it's through her own choice, and the bladder control could be regained should she ever change her mind. As Benjamin's case study shows, while it can be tempting to hold until you know you're going to be checked this may be noticed, and that ability to control yourself may itself distress your Amazon. We recommend that for the first week the use of a toilet or potty should not be even mentioned or discussed with your Amazon, to demonstrate that you're comfortable with using your diapers and do not need further 'encouragement'. If (as in Evie's case) your Amazon is amenable to potty training then this can be discussed once the relationship has reached greater trust, but also assume you'll always be in diapers at least some of the time. This will be discussed further under Rule Six, but never use words to complain about your diapers. Crying to indicate an uncomfortable diaper tends to be ok, and after the first week most Amazons will listen if you ask for a specific type of diaper (e.g. not the punishment ones) although they may not accede to the request. Complaining about the diapers, about having to wear or use them, or asking for a change almost always ends in punishment, with even the gentlest of Amazons using a pacifier to silence the complaints. Your Amazon will check or just realise that you need a change, although it can sometimes be helpful to highlight that you're about to leak. Even then, merely point out this basic fact as it's your Amazon's responsibility to either prevent or deal with a leaking diaper, and let them make that choice. If you are unfortunate enough to have an Amazon that defers changes (particularly messy diapers) then you will be at risk of diaper rash along with the discomfort. To help avoid this, train your Amazon to change you regularly by making the act of changing you enjoyable for her and demonstrating your gratitude for the clean diaper. While being grumpy is damaging a mild uplift in mood from before to after a change will be noticed by your Amazon and because of Rule One this will help train her. This should be obvious from Rule Three, but never try to remove your own diaper; not only will you likely fail but this will usually lead to restraints that can even prevent you using your hands. Other emissions[3] may be forced or inadvertent. Particularly after a liquid meal many Amazons like to burp a Little, usually holding them to their chest to do this. This is highly embarrassing, especially when the resultant burp is perhaps more liquid in nature, but again this is an issue for her to deal with, and not you. Recall Rule One and accept that she's doing this because she cares for you and feels this is good for your health and comfort, and not to humiliate you. Any other Amazon noticing will at worse think this is extremely cute, and other Littles are too used to it to try and embarrass you over it themselves. Avoid spitting on purpose - whether eating, or any other time. If you absolutely can't avoid it, hold cloth (e.g. a bib) to your mouth and mask it as a cough or sneeze. Spitting at someone breaks Rule Two and will lead to punishment - we've even heard of one poor Little losing his tongue to prevent this. Although by removing your control your Amazon has accepted the burden of coping with whatever comes out of you, from either end, we've found that a small apology when being sick (especially on an Amazon) can help defuse any undeserved anger that may be caused. Combine the apology with tears and you're on track for a cuddle and forgiveness. [3] Note that this pamphlet does not explore sexual activity or interactions; these vary too much on an individual basis Chapter 4 : Social Interactions It's playtime all the time! No working for a living means you can enjoy a very early retirement and really focus on friends and hobbies. Making friends and falling in (pretend or real) love with your Amazon is easy. Avoiding conflict with friends and family can however be a nightmare, with all the usual social challenges exacerbated by the Amazon Little divide. Going out in public is similarly fraught with dangers, some of which can not be avoided. No matter how close to your Amazon you are, the trust you share, and the freedom you have at home to talk and make your own decisions, in public and with others you must assume the worse. They will treat you as an uncooperative baby that doesn't realise its limitations, and obeying Rule Two is paramount: Any deviation from baby behaviour will result in punishment, correction or worse, sometimes even with your Amazon present and able to protect you. Case Study 4-Negative: Matthew had done some great groundwork in the first month of his new relationship and impressed his Amazon with his behaviour and maturity. She allowed Matty to choose his food and clothing, and they discussed challenges together in the home. Unfortunately when out shopping Matty removed his pacifier to complain about the onesie she wanted to buy him, and told her to buy a different one instead. Another Amazon overheard and contacted the protection agency, sharing a concern that Matty was being properly looked after. Following a clearly corrupt investigation Matty's Amazon was ruled incapable of caring for an infant, and herself regressed to baby status. Matthew was last seen en route to an Etiquette School. Case Study 4-Positive: Eleanor unusually chose her own Amazon and they did much planning beforehand. When Ellie moved in she was able to accelerate the relationship and they fell in love almost immediately. This created a level of trust that let them discuss going out in public, with Ellie fully adopting Rule Two and demanding her pacifier everywhere she went, supported by her watchful Mommy. By acting as a quiet well-behaved baby in public Ellie won over her Amazon's friends and made a few of her own: Eleanor is now a mother herself, although her child's father still lives with his own Mommy. Matthew's situation demonstrates how even a single encounter can spell disaster for a Little. Rule Six : Never Complain Voicing a complaint, particularly in public, is not just a very obvious sign of bad behaviour: Babies don't tell their parents they're unhappy, uncomfortable, dislike some food, hate the music or want to leave. They engage non-verbally, through expressions or crying. A Little that breaks Rule Two in public with a politely worded statement (e.g. "Thank you for that wonderful meal") may cause raised eyebrows due to the maturity of the language used, but will be complimented for politeness. Complaints receive no compliments and are instead treated as a threat to the sanctity of the Little's babyhood. Even if the Rule Two breach of a complaint doesn't cause an issue, complaints are negative in nature and will drive a negative response. This could be as simple as a change in perception but (as with Matthew) can lead to a range of stronger responses, including various punishments or corrective actions. Complaining can be easily avoided by exploiting Rule Four, but also by understanding the situations that may cause them. Learn non-verbal cues to share discomfort or distress, or use positive interactions (e.g. reaching out to be picked up) to escape them. Another key cause of complaints is in response to public humiliation and embarrassment. Rule Seven : Don't Be Embarrassed Using your diaper in public will happen. Right now you'll be thinking that's horrifically embarrassing but.. remember Rule Two? Babies don't get embarrassed about it, it's just part of life. Anyway, there's much worse (such as getting your used diaper changed in public). So don't let this get to you, accept that you have no personal privacy and embrace that nobody else is remotely bothered when you're half-naked being wiped down ahead of some fresh clean padding and a nice warm bottle. Relax and enjoy being pampered, and make a show of taking pleasure from it. That'll make Mommy happy too. As you spend more time with specific individuals (Amazon or Little) you'll learn their views and expectations. Be cynical and manipulate them just as you do your own Amazon, but act constructively as you do - they can help make your life fun and engaging and give you opportunities to add meaning to your own and to their lives. Building good relationships is healthy for everybody and key to retaining your mental health. Chapter 5 : Punishment Be kind and generous, and punish your Amazon only when needed. Punishments and correctional actions are a part of any life, but feature strongly in a relationship between an Amazon and a Little. While Amazons have the advantage in strength they are emotionally vulnerable, and this opens opportunities to punish them for transgressions. Be cautious about this. Actions to punish an Amazon should avoid inviting retribution (so no, don't throw your food at her!) but more subtle options exist. As an example, withdrawing even a small amount of compassion or attachment can have a noticeable effect, although we do caution against completely cold-shouldering her as that can cause anger and resentment. Punishments against you will regrettably be unavoidable, warranted or otherwise. The frequency and severity can however be greatly mitigated and much of this pamphlet works to that end, but there are some further direct ways to help. Rule Eight : Be In Control Whether you call it emotional intelligence, self-awareness or another term, having that understanding of your own emotional state can help you exert self-control that avoids negative behaviours. Amazons will label any outburst, non-personal violence and other behaviours as a tantrum, and they always punish tantrums. If you can spot the loss of control ahead of time, you can act to prevent it. While it's seldom possible to walk (or ask to be pushed/carried) away from a situation switching mental state from 'this is upsetting me' to 'I will not let this upset me' can be all that's needed and is a fantastic skill to have. Rule Four can obviously help or if someone friendly is available ask them to hold or support you. Sometimes all you can (or need to) do is stay silent. This may not help avoid conflict entirely, but is a key contributor to the next rule. Rule Nine : Do Not Defend Yourself Whether it's a punishment spanking (justified or otherwise), assault (by an Amazon or a Little), a provocation or anything else, never defend yourself[4]. Against another Little there will always be a carer available within seconds to save you, and an active response or retaliation will merely see you punished alongside your attacker. If the assault is from an Amazon then you're highly unlikely to succeed in defending yourself anyway, and the attempt itself will be severely punished. Case Study 5-Negative: Anna had settled into a sustainable relationship with her Amazon but had never truly settled. One ordinary day she had been taken to the local park to feed the ducks and had slipped and fallen on the grass by the pond. A passing Amazon man berated Annie's guardian for failing to take care of her, and suggested Anna would be better forcibly restrained in a stroller. Already embarrassed and in pain from the fall Annie spat out her pacifier and suggested (using somewhat less diplomatic terms) that the man should keep to himself and move on. Annie's carer stepped in to prevent the man reaching her but apologised to him then turned to Annie, pulled her up and carried her to a nearby park bench where a sustained and painful spanking took place. We understand that Anna's further three month punishment in thick waddle diapers is due to end shortly. Case Study 5-Positive: Cameron was almost an in-betweener, much taller and stronger than most Littles. On an overnight hospital stay another Little got jealous of the attention Cammie was getting from the nurse (who apparently adored such a tall little being in diapers) and when she left the room ran up, pushed him down and started to strike him with a small wooden train. Although Cammie could easily have overpowered his assailant the report his Amazon later received stated admiration for how he put his hands behind his back and waited calmly until a different nurse ran over and pulled away the attacker. Cameron suffered only bruises and has since been allowed to graduate to toddler status, with the promise of daytime potty use if he can stay dry. Don't forget the Amazonian technologies that mean even a nasty wound can be quickly healed. Momentary pain is better than a lifelong punishment! Less obvious is that Rule Nine includes verbal defences. If you speak angrily you'll get punished, no matter how justified you are. Amazons will often say things that are provocative without even realising it, or may just be arrogant or ignorant. Trust in your own Amazon to know what's best for you, and to speak up in your defence if needed. And remember Rule Seven; if someone's talking about how badly your diaper smells, that's their problem not yours. You (probably) didn't choose to fill it. [4] We are frequently asked, "What if it's a matter of life and death, or forced regression". At those times your instincts will take over anyway, so we won't waste your time offering pointless advice. Chapter 6 : Sustenance Eat, drink and be merry. It's not a cliche once you've tasted that Amazon food. Seriously, we know some Littles that have signed up with an Amazon just to get access to the Little food you can only buy from the Amazon stores. That stuff can be addictive but that's not because of any pharmacologicals, it just tastes so good. Unfortunately the Amazons know this and ration it carefully, with the bulk of the food ranging from great (if it's what the Amazons eat) to bland to grotesque (pureed kale baby food? yuck!) Rule Ten : Always eat what you're fed Many Amazons don't believe in feeding solids to small Littles, and like to provide a liquid or pureed diet even to larger ones. This can be very unpleasant, both going in and on the way out, but an unstated facet of Rule Ten is that you're going to be made to eat it anyway. So open up, let them put it in your mouth, close, chew (if needed) and swallow. Your facial expression will share your views on the food, so let that provide the feedback and earn yourself some karma by being easy to feed. That doesn't mean you can't refuse food; sometimes Amazons don't know when a Little is full so if you've just been fed too much and you're feeling full, that's the time to close your mouth instead of accepting the spoon/fork/spork. Even there, close it once or twice to make it clear you'd like to stop, but don't say anything and don't keep it closed after that. If you've grimaced through a pound of pureed cabbage, gravy and beetroot without complaint and only then stopped accepting it your Amazon will realise that this means you're probably full. If they do want to keep going, let them - remember, it's their responsibility if you're sick, not yours. In the first week that may happen a couple of times, then your Amazon will know you're not bluffing and only feed you until you're full. Other Amazons (nurses, daycare attendants, etc) will show more caution as they won't know your limit and will avoid risking sickness. Case Study 6-Negative: Charles was adopted by a caring pair of Amazons that started him on solid food. On his first day he resisted being fed, wanting to hold his own cutlery and show his ability to feed himself. Charlie's Amazons worried that this meant he wasn't ready for solid food and put his meal into the blender, then tried again. A second refusal led to a call to a helpful doctor, who recommended a liquid diet. Poor Charles has been fed from a bottle ever since. Case Study 6-Positive: Tamina started at the other end of the scale, being fed from a bottle for her first week. A few days into her relationship Tammy had finished her bottle and reached out towards her Amazon's plate with a gentle grasping motion. She was rewarded with a small corner of Lasagna which she chewed carefully and swallowed with a big smile. When pulled from her high chair at the end of the meal Tammy reached around and gave the tightest cuddle she could in thanks, and got a smile and cuddle back. Better yet, Tamina is now on solid food for her evening meal each day. Even when fed solids your Amazon will want you to drink a lot, and usually drink from a bottle. Rule Ten still applies; bottles suck (sorry) but they're better than getting 'treatment' because you won't drink from one. They're not all that a lady Amazon will want you to drink from. Even though she hasn't given birth her body will respond as though you're a baby and produce some food for you. Rule Eleven : Go For It Going from an adult life to being treated as a baby is tough. Being expected to breastfeed feels a step too far for many. Worse, Amazon breast milk can cause dual incontinence, and who wants that? Well, sorry to tell you this, but you do. It'll make Rule Five easier to keep, and it'll wear off once you wean. Being reversible makes breastfeeding one of least destructive ways an Amazon can make you incontinent, so give her this option. She'll also appreciate it greatly, as her milk will need to go somewhere, and she'd rather you nurse than she pumps it herself. She'll get that physical relief, and the increased emotional attachment that any nurse gets from an infant. There's another thing: It tastes great! You'll enjoy it too. Rule Eleven really has almost no downsides at all, once you're past that squeamish first step. That 'almost'? Never ever bite. The moment she feels teeth you're at risk of losing them. All of them. Forever. If you ever want to chew solid food, make sure you're a very gentle feeder when you're getting milk from source. Chapter 7 : Day Care Dodge the Day Care nightmare. The only winning strategy is not to play. Amazons love Day Care. They drop you off, then go and spend their day doing things without you. Sure, they need to go to work, or have to travel or have other things going on, but.. they're not the one trapped in daycare. Rule Twelve : Dodge Day Care Do whatever you can to avoid getting put into Day Care. The best approach is to find another Amazon you can both trust that can babysit or that you can visit. They'll know you, understand you and do their best to look after you. Day Care.. won't. It's not that the staff in Day Care facilities are evil, or malicious. They just make mistakes, get overworked, misunderstand and.. things go wrong. Permanently wrong. Hypnosis, sending you home with the wrong person, programming the robot badly. Ah, the robots. Many Day Cares use robot assistants, either to save staff costs or because they genuinely think this is a superior choice. Rule Thirteen : Avoid Robots If you thought Day Care was bad (and it is) then it's nothing compared to robot carers. They're implacable, they'll complete their programmed task whether it's right or wrong, and they make mistakes. Terrible mistakes. You can't plead with a robot. You can't point out that it's disobeying your Amazon's strict instructions. You certainly can't wriggle free. Whether it's in a Day Care or something the mother-in-law bought, it's a threat to your safety. Help your Amazon understand your fear and horror of robots and try to avoid ever being in their care. Case Study 7-Negative: Christine loved her first day at Day Care. The staff made her welcome, she met several Littles and made some new friends. Chrissie begged her Amazon to send her back, and went another eight times in the next two weeks. We never did find out what happened after that, we just know that Chrissie came home from that final visit unable to walk and with a terrified glaze on her eyes. After an in-depth review we cancelled our rescue attempt as Christine now genuinely needs the care she's receiving from her Amazon. Case Study 7-Positive: Edward was curious about Day Care and didn't fight being sent. He did realise straight away that this was a dangerous place and focussed on obeying all instructions but otherwise being quiet and fairly withdrawn. In Eddy's second week the centre was short of staff and instead of giving him a needed change a robot assistant was sent over to help him. As it started to strip him down Eddy heard the robot declare, "Processing 6 month old girl" and realised the robot was still set for its previous patient, a smaller female Little. Rather than struggle, fight and get both hurt and punished Eddy resolved himself to the inevitable, which included removal of all his hair and a well fitting pink diaper with accompanying dress. On her return to the Day Care Eddy's Amazon couldn't decide whether to comfort him or berate the Day Care, but did vow never to send him there again. Edward now has a regular baby sitter that properly addresses his needs. In this entire publication you are encouraged and provided with tools to avoid punishment. Rule Twelve is the exception: It's worth getting punished if it keeps you out of Day Care. Chapter 8 : Trust and Intimacy Build that bond and benefit from it. By now you should have a strong bond with your Amazon. You'll know her limits, what she'll tolerate, what you can get away with. Use this information, exploit it and strengthen that relationship. You may be together for years to come, so make them fun and full of love. Rule Fourteen : Have Fun Find shared interests, or ways to pursue your own hobbies. If you both like the countryside, get out there. If you both enjoy knitting, ask for some wool. You're an intelligent creative being, you need that stimulation and it'll make you happier, so help your Amazon understand this and provide it to you. Case Study 8-Negative: Terence had never forgiven his Amazon for adopting him, and refused to try and like her. The Amazon loved Terry despite this, but couldn't work out how to keep him happy and he gave her no help in this. After months of failing to find things he could enjoy she conceded and went with her mother's suggestion: Terence was regressed to a mental age of 8 months, although he does seem happier now Case Study 8-Positive: Victoria had also never forgiven her Amazon but recognised the need for an amicable relationship. Vicky worked hard on being well behaved and built enough trust to be allowed to pick up her hobbies. Not only was Vicky happier, this made her Amazon happier too, and also gave Vicky the chance to meet other Littles and contact us. Victoria escaped through our network two months ago and helped review this publication. It's not a betrayal to have fun with your Amazon. You need and deserve some fun in your life, so get it where you can. Chapter 9 : Ending Your Relationship Escape. Flee, into the night, never to return. All good things come to an end. But how will your story finish? Rule Fifteen : Choose This pamphlet collates the guidance we've been giving to Littles for many years now and just owning a copy of it will get you sent to Etiquette School. Hope you can trust the person from whom you received it, and ask them to put you in touch with us. We'll do our best to get you free! But we've found that those that obey the rules, build the relationships and get themselves to a position from which escape is possible generally don't want to. They find they like their new life and are happy for it to continue. If that's you, don't be ashamed. You're in a good place, go and be happy.

Being a furry ABDL had its advantages. People saw you in a diaper, assumed it was ok to fondle your fur around your ears, give your neck a pleasing rub that felt so good, wanted to pick you up and cuddle you. Time alone however allowed for less sociable options. Nekki looked down at her thick bulging diaper and sighed. Perhaps the enema hadn’t been so great a plan. She could tell the diaper had leaked around her tail, and everything it covered felt sticky and awful. Lying on her side she opened the tabs, folded the front between her rear legs and looked in horror at the mess. Her fur was completely covered, congealed and streaked in multiple shades of brown. The stench was unbearable, making her wish someone else was here to help her clean it up. They weren’t. Nekki didn’t want to have to clean it herself but knew putting it off wouldn’t help. Resigned to her fate she bent her head down and started licking.