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Hey there readers! I hope you're still enjoying Academy Works. If you wanna start at the beginning (which I recommend, though it's not required!), you should read Academy I (Part 1), Academy B (Part 2), and Academy T (Part 3). Academy K is a bit more like A:T, but there's a lot less direct control. I really like this one because I'm playing with concepts of social manipulation and out-group biases. But I hope it's still fun to read nonetheless! If you want to support me, here's a Patreon link you can go to. Thanks to everyone who reads, likes, and/or leaves comments! ~Mia~ --------------------- Academy KBy Mia Moore "Unbound strength is not found at the end of the hermit’s pilgrimage, but throughout every step." -The Source Chapter One Kione Williams sat nervously at a table in a brightly lit room. The muscles in her arms ached for no good reason as she tried to lift them up off the table's surface. She looked at her pink palms, lighter than the rest of her skin, and stretched her fingers as far as they would allow. It hurt, but in a good way. Kione looked at the walls. They were pink, but every so often they looked green instead. She took a deep breath and counted to four. Hold, and release. The walls were pink, she was sure of it. The last thing Kione remembered was seeing that black van on her street. She was walking home from work and the headlights were off, but the running lights glowed an awkward orange. The whole sidewalk was awash with that same hue. The door of the pink room opened and a man stepped in. He was dressed in a black suit with a clipboard in his hand. Kione took another steady breath as he took a seat across from her. "Hello Kione. My name is Eli. Do you know where you are?" Kione nodded her head. She couldn't remember anything between the growl of that black van and opening her eyes in the pink room, but she knew where she was. How? She couldn't say for sure. "The Academy," Kione answered. Eli nodded slowly. If he was surprised by her answer, he didn't show it. "We are going to help you get better," Eli told her. "The Priestess can fix you." "I appreciate your concern," Kione said evenly, "but I don't need help." Eli opened the file on his desk. He flipped a few pages until he found one that he was looking for. Then he asked: "How long have you been seeing things?" Kione looked away and leaned back in her chair. It always came back to this. "Listen, I'm sure you mean well." That was a lie. For some reason, Kione didn't trust this man any further than she could throw him. And with the way her arms were hurting, and the size of Eli, that wasn't very far at all. "I have it under control. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to leave." "And where do you imagine you’ll be going?" Questions like that were phrased so open-ended, as though there could be any answer in the world. But the way that Eli had phrased it was clear as day that he only had one right answer in mind. Rarely did Kione have only one answer that seemed right. But right now, that was unimportant. Eli was waiting for an answer, and Kione knew she was screwed no matter what she said. "Wonderland? With the White Rabbit, and the Queen of Hearts?" "You’re a funny one,” Eli replied, dryly. He wasn’t smiling. "What color are the walls, Kione?" "Pink," Kione said without hesitation. "Are you sure?" Eli asked, tilting his head to the side. "Yes." Kione had made up her mind: the walls were pink. Certainty was never something she could stumble into on accident anymore; she had to make her own certainty. Eli got up from the table and walked to the door. He opened it and stepped outside. "Are you coming?" he asked. Kione nodded and stood up. The muscles in her thighs started to ache and her knees buckled beneath her. She braced herself on the table and steadied herself, then she followed Eli out of the room. Wherever he was taking her, it was better than sitting in that chair. As Kione followed down the hall, she noticed her feet. Bare. Where had her shoes gone? She noticed her pants next - white cotton, the texture of hospital scrubs - and a matching button up shirt. She probably looked like an orderly out of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Kione didn't like the resemblance. At the end of the long white hall was a single door. Eli led the way through it, outside and into the sunlight. It took a moment for Kione’s eyes to adjust. There was grass - too green, like a Hollywood movie set - and a consistent blue sky with clouds that didn’t seem to move. And the sound of... children playing? Giggling? Kione looked down the hill she stood atop, Eli by her side, at the scene below her. From up there, they looked like children, but something in her head told her otherwise. Adults. All adults, like her. But acting like children. Dressed like children. Some played hopscotch. Some played tag. Some were tossing a ball around. A few dozen, maybe fifty. "What is this?" Kione asked. "Salvation," Eli responded. She looked around the large space; the adult children played in the center of a pentagonal valley, with five hills that formed the shape of a star. Past that, there was nothing but a sea of grass. Atop each of the other four hills there were structures. Not houses, not buildings... but playground equipment, like you might have expected to find in a school yard. Or, well, a really expensive school yard, like one of those private schools that churned out damaged adults. "I don't understand how this is supposed to—" Kione turned to Eli, but he wasn't there. The door where she came out wasn't there either. She hesitated at the space where she expected the door should be and reached out to touch it, but her hand went right through. There was no door. Was Eli real? Was any of this? Kione took a deep breath. Five things she could see. The massive blacktop at the bottom of the hill, with adults playing hopscotch. Swing sets in lines of six, flanked on both sides with colorful seats. Picnic tables and swaths of blankets decorating the sides of the other four hills. Huge play-scapes - or maybe small play-towns - on each of the hills, painted in different colors: red, yellow, blue, and green. And finally, in the center of the valley, adorned with pictures and ornaments, a large door stood upright. A door that didn't seem to go anywhere at all. Maybe things she could see was a bad place to start. Kione closed her eyes and took another breath. Four things she could feel. The sharp grass beneath her feet. The slight breeze against her forehead. The ache of her legs as she stood. The gravity pulling on her, tilted every so slightly forward. Three things she could hear. Laughter. Bouncing balls. Music, like from a music box. Two things she could smell. Grass, like it was recently cut, though it didn't look like it had been. Kione knew always to trust her nose over her eyes. And lavender. One thing she could taste. Moisture. Humidity. She was thirsty, and this place was alive. When Kione opened her eyes again, it was just in time to see a group of kids - or adults dressed like kids - walking up the hill toward her. "I saw her first!" "Nuhuh, Marky saw her first an' told you an' I saw her before that!" "Nuhuh." "Yuhhuh." "She looks like a Banana." "You wouldn't even know a Banana!" "I am a Banana!" "I think she's umm... she's defi...defin... um. She's a Cherry!" The chittering of the group of would-be-children terminated when the group of six made it to the top of the hill. A girl - a woman, in a pretty gingham dress the color of freshly picked red apples - was the first to speak directly to Kione. "Welcome to the Kindergarten!" "I... thank you..." Kione paused and looked at the six residents. Each was dressed very specifically, with a dominant color and an accent of white. White socks, white hair ties, white frills along the hems of their dresses. Even the boys wore shirts with white sleeves or white laces on their shoes. Two green, two yellow, two red... but no blue. "I'm sorry," Kione apologized, though she hadn't done anything wrong. "What is this place, exactly? And do you know where the exit is?" "Oh gosh." "Oh golly." "Oh goodness." "We just said it's the Kindergarten," a girl in green echoed, but she didn’t sound annoyed about it. "And there's no exit, this is your home now. What's your name?" "I'm sorry, but I can't stay here." Kione skipped over the whole name thing. If these adults really were children, then it was best they didn't get attached to her. "I have a job; I'm a counsellor. If I don't get back to my clients soon, they'll worry about me. You understand, don't you?" "Nuhuh." "Nope." "She's definitely a Blueberry..." "I'm Robin," continued the girl in the red gingham dress who did the introductions. "I know it's confusing but you'll be okay. Tonight there's gonna be a Joining when the others get here, an' then you'll feel more at home." "I... I'm really sorry, but I can't..." Kione wasn't getting anywhere, and she knew it. She looked around the hilly parkway again, then down at the door in the center of it all. Free-standing on a frame with no wall. They saw it too, didn't they? "That door," Kione asked. "Does it go anywhere?" The kids exchanged awkward looks, but Robin spoke up right away. "That's the Ever After. When we earn it, the Priestess will open the door and lead us through. But only one of us gets to go at a time. So we gotta be on our best behavior." Kione nodded in understanding. This place was some kind of cult. An indoctrination of sorts. She'd suffered through enough loneliness and ostracism that Kione knew how important it was to belong. But her knowledge gave her power too. They wouldn't sway her so easily. Nonetheless, Kione always was good at putting on a face. "What do you mean 'Priestess'?" "Well when—" one of the others began to explain, but Robin shushed him with a wave of her hand. She shook her head softly, before taking over the explanation. "After the Joining, your leader will explain everything to you." Nobody seemed willing to argue with Robin, and when nobody else spoke up, she continued. "Do you Double Dutch?" "Um..." It seemed like such a non-sequitur. A yellow-shirted boy chimed in: "It's a dumb skipping game for girls." "Shut up, Wesley," the girl wearing a yellow dress snapped back and rolled her eyes. "It's not dumb you're just bad at it." "Cause I'm not a girl." "Maybe you should be, you keep talking about it!" He puffed out his cheeks and went quiet. Robin continued: "It's a game. Do you know how to play? Come down wif' us, okay?" Robin was mostly eloquent, but with some misspoken words here and there. It was weird. Cute, but weird. Kione followed the group down the hill, looking back at where she came from. There was no playscape at the top of it. It was different. Why was it different? Soon Kione and the others made it to the bottom of the hill and the grass made way for blacktop. The small, dull stones and the sun-soaked ground made the bottoms of Kione's feet hurt. A lot of other kids - all dressed primarily in one of the four colors - looked her way, but nobody else approached to make an introduction. Robin seemed to have an odd level of control over the whole situation. Maybe she's the leader, Kione wondered. If she is, then she's the best ally. And the most dangerous enemy. "You didn' tell me your name," Robin prompted again, "an' I can't introduce you if you don't tell me your name." The boys split away to play their games, and the other two girls - one in green and one in yellow - led her to where a gaggle of girls were jumping rope. "Kione." In the end, ingratiating herself and earning the trust of the residents would benefit her more than keeping her distance. If Kione learned anything from work, it was that rapport was everything. "Well Kione, it's nice to meet you. Come this way." As Robin approached, the mixture of girls - in reds, blues, yellows, and greens - wound down their rhythmic chant. They looked at Kione excitedly. "This is Kione," Robin said. "Hi Kione!" They all intoned, in unison, like addressing a school teacher. "Is there gon' be a Joining tonight?" one of the girls in blue asked. She had her thumb in her mouth and it drew Kione's attention. She sure seemed to take this 'dress like a kid' thing a little too far. But then again, this whole place seemed a bit too Wonderland for Kione. Maybe she shouldn’t have made that joke with Eli. "There is, but let's just play for now." Robin smiled, and turned to Kione. "Do you wanna do Miss Mary Mack? Or Teddy Bear? Or is there another jump rope game you like most?" "I, uh. Miss Mary Mack would be great." Kione hadn't jumped rope since she was in grade school, but she was pretty damn good. She hoped that jump rope was like riding a bike, and she wouldn't humiliate herself in front of a bunch of overgrown school children. As Kione stepped into the middle of the two jump ropes, the girls on either end - one in yellow, one in red - began mercifully slow. "Miss.... Mary.... Mack, Mack, Mack....all dressed in black, black, black, with silv-" Kione made it about that far before tripping, and the plastic ropes caught in her feet. There were laughs and giggles, but nothing too condescending. Nothing like how an adult would make fun of someone or discourage them for trying. It just seemed like the kids were having fun, and Kione didn't know what to make of that. "I wanna try again," Kione declared.

Hey everyone! So this is my first story. I am actually a barely popular ABDL artist and I post most of my art content here: Hottogurugan (Comms Open) (@hottogurugan) / Twitter I usually do normal ABDL art, and I've only recently gotten anywhere close to good, and I rarely post new stuff but I'm working on getting more output. I am also collabing on an abdl game with another artist. But that's not why I'm here. Though I mainly draw diaper girls, I have a huge soft spot for Md/Lb and femdom dynamics involving diapers. Women putting boys in their pampered place etc. etc. I just have never had an idea that struck me as something I wanted to draw. So as a fun experiment, and after brainstorming with some fellow ABDL/MDLB writers on tumblr, I decided to write down a story idea that has been sifting around in my head for at least two years or so. The idea is not entirely original. There is a CYOA on Writing.com called 'The Colony'. The premise was that a Communist Matriarchy had been established on some space station. The women ruled the station and kept all men in diapers. No man was allowed to be potty trained and all had to obey female authority. One of the story avenues let you be a young man who was headed off to college in this strange matriarchal society. Needless to say, I fell in love with the premise, and I even tried to contribute to it myself. However, I did not like how the collaborative CYOA provided zero narrative control to any individual author. I was fascinated with exploring the idea of this society, and following a young man as he broke out from his parents only to eventually find himself ensnared in the matriarchy's web and succumbing to the authority of a new 'mommy'. Some of the writing was of....... subpar quality. Some of the story routes had entries that seemed like purposeful derailments by trolls, one literally ends with an entry that simply reads, "??????????". Can't exactly go from there without disrupting the flow. The story is sporadically updated, but individual authors never seem to contribute more than once. I have tried to get in touch with the original author, but after two attempts at contact, and four years of no reply, I assume he has abandoned his account and the story itself. As such, I have decided that I would take the premise and write my own story based on it. In order to avoid plagiarism, I am completely changing the names of characters, places, and even making some of the few plot points presented in the original CYOA differently. I am only taking the premise, and my own rendition of the first part of one of the story avenues presented originally, beyond that, this is my own work. I simply wanted a creative avenue that was under my control in which I could explore the world set by such a premise, the people who live in it, and the ideology of the ruling matriarchy. I hope you all can enjoy my take on this premise, and I hope you all come along and follow me for what may be the first of possibly many stories. Disclaimer: The author of this work does not follow or endorse any of the ideologies described in this work of fiction. All mentions or opinions expressed in this work do not reflect the authors own opinions. The opinions of characters in the work do not reflect the author's, and only serve as vehicles to further the plot or help in characterization of the characters involved. This is erotic fiction first and foremost, none of the ideas represented are meant to be taken seriously or advocated for in the real world. Our story follows Raymond, a young man who finds himself attending university in a strange society where matriarchy is the ruling ideology. In this society, men are kept as partially infantilized adults with the legal rights of toddlers as they are cared for and commanded by an all-female elite. Raymond must navigate his way through this strange culture until he completes his pilots' certification, and he is determined to escape the society with his dignity and continence intact before the female web of the matriarchy fully ensnares him? Things become even more complicated when he meets the love of his life in this strange place. Will our hero escape or be made into a loyal pamper-packer at the behest of female authority? A Radical Equality Chapter 1: Arrival “I am not wearing that!” “You have no choice, it’s the law.” In the room stood three figures. Two women and one man. The man, an average student in his mid-20s, sat on a medical table in a brightly lit backroom resembling an examination room. A traveling case and a backpack lay at his feet. With his arms crossed, he glared defiantly at the two women who stood just barely above him. The two women were of different professions, both at least a decade older than the man. One was dressed as an office professional, her blouse had an emblem stitched to her left breast, with the word “IMMIGRATION AND CUSTOMS” embroidered just above. On the right breast, an ID card hung from a clip in her breast pocket. The other woman was a law officer, her faded navy-blue uniform barely disguised the silhouette of a Kevlar vest. The tools of her trade were clasped onto her duty belt. Her left boot tap-tapping in an annoyed cadence. Even those both women were physically smaller and less intimidating than the man, they stood as if they were the authorities. They gave off the impression of two stern schoolteachers trying to subdue an unruly toddler. In their minds, that was exactly what they were doing. “Listen, you can either be mature and wear the diaper or we can arrest you and have you deported.” Said the immigration woman. “Oh, and if you do decide on arrest, you’ll still get diapered. Prisoners don’t have potty privileges.” “But that’s ridiculous! I was never told I’d need to wear…. one of those.” The man replied. “The diapers? You said you were here on a student visa, right? Did you not read the rules required of males living on this planet?” In truth, the man had read the rule sheet, but he thought it was a joke. He also didn't even bother to do much research on where he was headed, otherwise, he would have known of the strange rules he would be subjected to, and the puffy garments that would replace his normal boxers. “I…. I read the rules.” He said, “I just thought it was a joke? Like, you can’t seriously require all men to wear those things, right?” “Diapers, and we do. It's one of the foundational pillars that our society rests on, and I am simply asking you to respect it, young sir." “Stop talking to me like I’m a kid!” “Stop acting like one then!” “I’m 21…” "That doesn't mean anything. Here, you're legally a child still. And with that attitude, you might as well be one!” The room fell to silence for a moment. She was right. He knew she was. He felt childish, being told by two authoritative women that he needed to put on a diaper. His cheeks were flushed red from the emotions he was feeling. Anger and embarrassment. Angry that he was so stupid to not take the pamphlet seriously and embarrassed at having to go through the ordeal. He found himself in this situation because he had no other choice. No other university accepted his application. He was intelligent, but a terrible student, and as such his grades were lackluster. He originally tried to make it as a dockworker on Earth's Intergalactic Trade Station, but after two years of that, he decided it wasn't the type of career he wanted. But being exposed to the spacecraft he unloaded cargo from, he got the idea that maybe being a space pilot might be a fun job to take. So, he decided to try his hand at one of the many credentialing institutions in Human space. The issue was, that only a select handful of institutions offered classes. Spacecraft piloting was necessary and high-in-demand profession, but companies were always particular about who could become a pilot, and a certification in a specific space quadrant meant where you got certified is where you would work. But none of the larger and well-known institutions would take him in on account of his lazy performance in high school. Until one day when he received a strange email from a university, he had never heard about. He didn’t remember much of the email, nor did he even try to pay much attention when he was reading it. All he remembered was something about “communist matriarchy”, “a particular way of life, and "revolutionary culture'. But he mostly paid attention to the "reduced board and tuition for off-planet male students" and the “Spacecraft license classes offered”. That’s what got him here, a college degree and at a cheaper cost somewhere away from his parents? He couldn’t pass it up. If only he had known, he might have held out for somewhere else before submitting his application. “I am going to ask you one more time.” Chimed in the office lady, breaking the silence. “Will you submit to a diapering, or will you continue to be fussy and require us to send you home?” The woman crossed her arms and looked at him with a stern expression, awaiting an answer. The policewoman’s tap-tapping increased in rhythm. The young man paused for a second, he wanted to say ‘just send me home! I’m going back to Earth.’ But his subconscious stopped him, he knew deep down that if he went back, he might not get another chance to get a certificate and license. Maybe, just maybe, he could cram courses as much as he could and get out as soon as possible. Maybe wearing diapers for a year or two wouldn't be so bad, was it? He didn't necessarily have to use said diapers, and this station was built from a prefab, so there had to be a men's room somewhere hidden away he could use. This was his chance, he had to take it. He took a deep breath and let his arms fall to his side. “Alright, I’ll wear the diaper.” He said, “I guess when in Rome.” The office woman’s expression changed from stern disapproval to a pleased smile. She walked over to a cabinet and pulled out some items before returning to the medical bench. “I’m glad to hear that you’re big enough to take the easy way, I was worried Miss Roland here was going to have to cuff you.” “I would prefer not to, makes my job easier when they behave.” Said the policewoman. "Oh, I bet it does. Alright, young man lay down on the bench and I'll get you changed." “Whoa, hold on. I can change myself just fine!” The stern and disappointed expression returned to the woman’s face. "I'm sorry, but in addition to having to wear diapers, you are also not allowed to change them yourself. Lay down on the medical bench and I’ll get you into your diaper.” “No way lady! That’s weird! I can put it on myself.” “Officer Roland please restrain him.” The man found himself being pushed down by the officer with more force than she had been able to use. She must be on enhancers. "What the- “he retorted as he fell back on the bench. Cop lady quickly restrained his left hand with a medical cuff, and the office woman quickly went around the other side and cuffed his right. They were quick from lots of practice with this exact scenario. With only his legs free, the young man began to squirm and lightly kick them about. “Hey, get me out of this! You can’t- “ “If you don’t stop moving your legs, we will have to restrain those too. Calm down and just let me change you!” “No! Let me out you bitch!” he cried back. “Suit yourself.” Immediately the women set about restraining his legs. The police officer had no issues restraining his leg, but the immigration lady needed help. But after a short struggle, his legs were restrained as well. He was about to let out another expletive but was interrupted by a soft, rubbery object being forcefully inserted into his mouth. “Spit that out and I’ll have to tie that around your head.” He wanted to spit it out but decided against further restraint. It was also somewhat soothing to have in. What was it exactly? The office woman began to make her way back to the cabinet while Officer Roland stared over the young man like a hawk. The Office lady returns with a pair of razor-scissors. “I’m sorry but since we had to restrain your legs, the only way to get your pants off for a diaper change is by cutting them up.” She then gave a quick snip-snip with the scissors. The young man didn’t want his pants cut up, but this was the fate he chose. He squirmed up until the point of the woman removing his belt and readying the scissors. He knew better than to be unsteady around those things. It took several cuts to get both sides of his pants undone. No longer held together with thread, the woman slid the pants out from underneath him, leaving him mostly exposed except for his underwear. The woman held up the scissors with a disgusted face after seeing his gray boxers. As if she were offended by being subjected to seeing them. She positioned the scissors to begin cutting the undergarment. “Now hold still, otherwise there will be a bad accident.” Saying that, she began to cut the boxers, both ends now lie open. She removes the underwear from underneath the young man, whose face goes beet red. Holding the underwear out, somewhat in disgust and curiosity. “Why do you off-world boys even wear these? They don’t offer any protection and they don’t look comfortable. If I left my boys in these, they’d make a mess all over my carpet.” She tosses the cut-up garment into a trash bin. “You won’t need those anymore mister.” She turns around to face her charge, with a wide grin on her face. “Are you ready for your first diaper mister grumpypants?” The tone of her voice and mood noticeably changed, as if a switch had been flipped in her hand. Or maybe to try and signal to him that he is now in her good graces. She wanted him in those diapers, not his big boy undies. She pulled out a bottle with lotion inside and squirted it onto her hands before rubbing them together. She went for his crotch, and he began to squirm in reaction to this strange lady rubbing his groin. “Stop squirming little guy, it’ll go faster if you stay still.” The woman was surprisingly professional about rubbing lotion on all of a man’s junk. The young man on the other hand was flustered as one could be. This was the first time a woman had ever given him the attention of this sort, and it was while he was restrained and trying to put him in a diaper. By the end of the lotion rubbing, he was a blushing, embarrassed mess and could barely come up with a thought. The woman retracted her hands and turned around to grab something else. Turning back to face the man she holds up a thick white object, which the man immediately recognized to be an unfolded diaper. The woman’s smile beamed at him, it was a happy smile, but he still found himself intimidated. “Time for your first diapering little boy!” Beamed the woman before unfolding the diaper. The unfolded diaper surprised the boy in just how large it was, it had to be as long as the woman’s torso, and it couldn’t have been less than half a foot wide in the middle. She slid the enormous underwear beneath him and adjusted its position under him. She pulled the front of the diaper over his crotch. “Shh, such a good boy for keeping still. I’m proud of you.” The woman cooed at him as if he were a toddler while she pulled the diaper's wings over the front. The tapes made a distinctive sound as they were secured onto the landing strip. The woman pulled back after the diaper was fastened onto the man. “All done! Good job for calming down, I bet you feel much happier now that you’re properly padded up, huh?” Cooed the woman, the cop on the other side of the bench gave a quick chuckle at the sight. The young man just sat in silence, too flustered from the events to react to anything. To him, the diaper felt bulky and soft, if tightly secured. It was surprisingly comfortable for what it was, felt almost like a pillow between his thighs. Both women began undoing his restraints, once his arms and legs were free the office woman helped him sit up on the bench and the police lady sat next to him. "Now I know you must be flustered by what occurred and feel like you've been punished enough. But your behavior from earlier is simply unacceptable. Around here you are to respect and obey female authorities, your little outburst is simply something you'll need to learn to control. I understand this is your first time on our planet, but you simply must learn to follow our rules if you wish to stay here. As such, to help you learn, Officer Roland here will administer a light spanking to you.” Her words were practiced and professional, she does this routinely. The young man was taken aback by her threat of a spanking. But before he could reply Officer Roland grabbed his hands and forced him over her lap. His thickly padded behind was now exposed prominently to the air. He popped the pacifier out of his mouth and yelled. “Let go of me!” He now couldn’t see the woman who had been administering his defeat for the past hour, but he could hear her tone change in her voice. “Sigh You just don’t learn to stay quiet, do you? Officer, how many spankings do you think are in order?" “I’d say at least 20 ma’am.” “Make it 30.” The young man began squirming and yelling in protest. 'This is an injustice!' he thought to himself. And he continued to writhe about. He felt another pacifier being inserted into his mouth and a strap tightening around his head. He could no longer vocalize his distaste for the actions being done to him. He feels a hand grab his chin and rotate his head. The office woman rotated his head, so their eyes meet. “Welcome to Estrea little boy.”

Welcome! This is a story about being dead, fun, right?! The plan is for there to be an overarching main story, set up here in the prologue, but each chapter will be focused on an individual that comes to our protagonist through her job while I drip feed the main story throughout. The hope is that this will be a story that, eventually, makes you feel good despite literally everyone in it being dead. #ghostsarepeopletoo Anyway, if you like what you see here and want more let me know in the comments and like the story, if you don't, let me know in the comments and don't like the story, if you're just here for reading and not interacting, that's cool, I hope you enjoy my work regardless. On with the show! Cause Of Death: Embarrassment By: The Unknown Author Prologue Excerpt from D.E.A.T.H. new caseworker orientation “Death is the great mystery of humankind, specifically, what happens after a person dies. Different religions have different theories, beliefs that drive their members to be “good” people with the promise of a paradise beyond their mortal life and warn them of being “bad” for fear of ending up tortured and suffering in the afterlife. Some believe that there is no afterlife, that they’ll be reincarnated into another living thing once their life is over, others believe that there is merely nothing after someone dies, you just die and stop being aware of anything else as the empty void swallows your consciousness. The truth of it all is that when someone dies their “soul” comes here to the Department of Expiration and Afterlife Tallying in the Hereafter or D.E.A.T.H., when a person arrives at D.E.A.T.H., they are paired with a caseworker that goes over the defining moments of their life and the circumstances surrounding their death with the goal of bringing about acceptance of said demise to avoid said person becoming a ghost. As a caseworker, you will be given a file for each new arrival and will be expected to greet them when they arrive with a warm and welcoming tone as the transition process from the living realm to this one will leave them disoriented, fragments of knowledge about their situation may exist, but it is your chief goal to keep them calm and listening to you and not let them take control of the conversation. They will ask questions about why they are where they are and it will be your duty to reassure them, providing their file indicates they’ll be moving on to a better place, that their being with you is merely a formality and you’re working to expedite their transition as quickly and efficiently as possible. Should they be heading to a worse place, you’re to keep that information from them until you’ve completed your duty of setting up their transfer to avoid a vengeful spirit returning to the living realm. Performing well as a caseworker will provide you with the opportunity to advance within the organization. There are many different career paths available to those with an aptitude for handling the affairs of the dead such as: Reaping Accounting Unborn Soul Caretaking Training New Caseworkers And so many more! Some of you may be wondering why you were chosen for this role and the answer is simple, you and every other caseworker is uniquely qualified to be an important part of this organization and have been granted knowledge beyond your own life and time to allow you to aid others in their journey forward. Welcome to D.E.A.T.H.! ********* Working at D.E.A.T.H. is a lot like when you eat popcorn and get a hull stuck in your tooth that no matter how much you tongue it it just sticks there and you resign yourself to that being your life but then when it finally dislodges you feel such immense relief that you praise yourself for enduring such a hardship for those four and a half minutes that felt like weeks. Time, as a concept, doesn’t exist in our business, the living experience days and weeks but we have an eternal stretch of routine. The powers that be have blessed us with “time off” from our jobs in the form of the chronological equivalent to the blink of an eye, but we make due with what we’re given the best we can and then we’re instantly back at our desk again. That said, if “Monday’s” existed in the afterlife, this new assignment I’ve been given would be the equivalent of an eternity of Monday’s all stacked up on top of each other. “You’re not listening to me!” the woman seated in the chair in front of my desk shouted as she slammed her hands down on the desk, her entire form rippling and distorting briefly, signaling to me that she was headed for a vengeful spirit meltdown. I stood up calmly and walked around my desk to be at her side, putting my arm around her, “Hey, Samantha,” I said in a soothing tone, “I’m listening, but I need you to also listen to me, okay?” I asked. She was silent, her form stable once more. “Okay.” I said, taking my arm from her and kneeling down beside her, “Now, we’re in a bit of disagreement about how you died, right?” I asked. She glared at me, “No, you’re just wrong!” she spat. I sighed softly and reached up to retrieve the folder from my desk and opened it and scanned the document within until I found the part I was looking for, “It says that you experienced an event so humiliating that your soul left your body.” I told her. She smacked the file out of my hand, “Do you know how stupid that sounds?!” she shouted, her form rippling and writhing wildly once more. I picked the folder up and stood, “Okay, let’s see what happened then.” I said, going to the small table against the wall that held a television and remote on it. I turned the TV on and the image of Samantha appeared on the screen. Her form shuddered as she looked down at the ground, “Please, don’t make me watch it.” she pleaded. I ignored her, focusing on driving the point that she was wrong home to shut her up and get her out of my hair once and for all, “You don’t have to watch, but I am going to narrate what I see.” I told her. The image on the screen was basically a CCTV recording of Samantha’s kitchen, the recording being done from somewhere above and away from the circular table in the kitchen. Samantha was seated in a larger than normal highchair, her blonde hair tied up into adorable pigtails, her long legs dangling above the floor, swinging back and forth as she scooped a handful of chocolate pudding up from the little pink bowl on the tray locked in place in front of her and brought it to her mouth, slathering her cheeks and chin in the process and dripping some onto not just the bib around her neck, but also the very pretty dress she was wearing. I looked over at her where she sat in front of my desk and smiled at her, though her eyes were still cast to the floor and thus couldn’t see me looking at her. “Your dress is very pretty.” I told her. She was still wearing the lavender party dress, the frills beneath made her look like a flower turned upside down where she sat. She looked up at me and immediately back down to the floor when she saw me smiling, “Th-thank you.” she stammered. The pudding spots remained on the bib she still wore, a frilly pink number with “Daddy’s Messy Eater” written in elegant flowing cursive, and her cheeks and chin were still marred with the remnants of the treat, making me impressed with myself for not laughing at her when she tried to assert herself and overpower me in this situation. The man in the recording set down his paper and looked at his watch and then at the Samantha, sighing as he got up from the kitchen table, “Did you enjoy your pudding, baby?” he asked, gently stroking her hair with one hand. She looked up at him and nodded, “Yes, Daddy, it was very nummy!” she chirped. He bent forward so his face was level with hers, “Daddy put an extra special something into it to prepare you for your surprise.” he told her. Samantha furrowed her brow, “What-” she started to say before she stopped speaking, her face looking shocked as she looked from the bowl of pudding and back up at him. Taking a step back from her, he chuckled, “Pathetic.” he sneered. The sound of a doorbell ringing made me turn my attention back to the TV, noting that Samantha winced at the sound, her form shuddering once more, but not angrily this time. In the highchair, Samantha had stopped swinging her legs and enjoying her dessert, and had frozen in place as she looked to the sound of the doorbell, leaning this way and that to try and see something off screen. Her face contorted into abject terror as she shook her head vehemently and squirmed in the highchair, her cries of “No.” repeating over and over again, growing more frantic and panicked as a man and woman appeared from where the doorbell had rang. “Please.” Samantha said quietly. I paused the video. “Please, what?” I asked. She looked up at me, her eyes wide and pleading, “Don’t make me watch it.” she begged. “What happened?” I asked. She shook her head. I plucked the document from the folder, “Samantha Walters, age thirty four, was engaged in an Adult Baby play session with her husband and Daddy, William Walters, eating pudding that, unbeknownst to her, contained sedatives to limit her ability to fight against him, in her highchair when he excused himself for a moment to answer the door.” I read, eyeing the shaking woman seated before me above the paper briefly before continuing, “A short time after he excused himself, William returned with his-” I stopped reading aloud and read with just my eyes for a bit before stopping and lowering the paper to look at Samantha. She wasn’t able to cry, but the shudder of her form told me she was performing the spiritual equivalent of a sobbing emotional breakdown. I closed the distance between us and knelt down in front of her, hooking my finger beneath her chin and lifting it gently so she was looking at me, though her eyes tried to look anywhere but into mine. “What he did to you was awful.” I said sympathetically. She nodded, “I trusted him and let myself be truly vulnerable.” she whispered sullenly. I nodded, “I know, honey, but, I can’t change any of what happened, I just need you to accept that the humiliation of what he did was what ultimately, and tragically, ended your life so that you can move on.” I told her. She looked down at the floor, “To Heaven?” she asked, her demeanor and tone changing to something more akin to the age she was dressed as rather than her chronological age. I nodded, “According to your file, you’ve got a happy afterlife ahead of you.” I said, “But only if you let go of your hurt and anger.” I added. “If you hold onto that then you’ll be an angry ghost for a really long time and all you’ll feel is pain and hatred until you eventually forget why it is you’re so hurt and angry and you just disappear.” I explained, slipping into a tone more suitable for a young child. She nodded softly, “Is Heaven nice?” she asked. I sighed and shrugged, “Honestly, honey, I’ve never been, but I’m sure it’s great.” I told her. She looked over at the paused screen and then down at her outfit, “I felt really cute.” she confessed. “Like, my outside self matched my inside self for real for the first time and I wasn’t just pretending and playing dress up.” she continued. “Then he spoiled everything.” she pouted. I stroked her cheek softly, “He didn’t deserve a little girl as pretty and sweet as you, honey.” I told her. She smiled and threw her arms around me, hugging me tightly, “I’m sorry I got angry and yelled at you.” she said quietly. I hugged her back, rubbing her back and patting it softly, “It’s okay, I know how hard and scary it is dealing with all of this stuff suddenly.” I told her, “But I know that there’s nothing but happiness in your future and no one will ever hurt you again.” I added. She broke our embrace and nodded softly, “I’m ready.” she said before her form shuddered one final time as she accepted her fate and she began to glow brightly and then was gone from where she sat. I rose slowly and smiled, “Good girl.” I praised to the now empty office, turning my attention back to the TV to finish watching the recording. The man and woman that had entered were holding hands, the woman laughing at Samantha as her head lolled to the side to look at them from her place in the highchair. “Wow, you weren’t kidding, she’s adorable!” the woman cooed as she let go of the man’s hand and went to the highchair. The man chuckled, “Yeah, until you have to change her shitty diapers.” he cruelly joked. The woman looked over at him and knelt down, reaching up to push the wad of frills away to peek at Samantha’s diaper, effortlessly batting the girls legs away as she weakly struggled against her pervy intruder, her hands covering her face as she rose and looked at the woman, “Such pretty diapers!” she cooed, “Mommy can’t wait to see you fill them up for her!” she added, patting Samantha’s head as the woman in the highchair lazily pulled her head away to escape the touch before she trotted back over to the man and wrapped her arms around his waist. “Who she, Willm?” Samantha asked drunkenly, her words slurred and more akin to baby talk then she realized. William grabbed a handful of the woman’s ass and pulled her close to him, kissing her deeply before he lifted her up and spun around to set her onto the counter behind him. “This is Kiki, baby, and she is going to be your new Mommy, Sammy.” he said, kissing the Auburn haired woman’s neck as his hand groped her breast through her blouse. “Your Daddy needs a real woman, sweetheart.” Kiki teased, “When he puts you down for your little nappy naps in your crib, I’m who he calls to come keep him company.” she said, “When you’re filling your diapers, he’s looking at the pictures I send him of what a real woman looks like.” she teased. Samantha was crying now and awkwardly batted the bowl of pudding off the tray of the highchair, a gesture meant to be powerful and show them how angry she was, but simply made her look like a clumsy baby having a tantrum, “Oo cheeding bassad.” she slurred. William and Kiki ignored her outburst, William kneeling down to slide Kiki’s panties off her, “See these?” he asked his wife as he held up the lacy red garment, “These are damp with desire for me,” he said, walking over to the highchair and shoving the panties into Samantha’s face, “not with piss because you can’t control yourself.” he spat. Samantha whimpered and tried to pull her head away, but found herself too weak and slow to do more than sob into the panties that William held against her face, the smell of the other woman’s arousal and the indignity she was suffering making her blood boil, “I divose oo.” she squeaked. William glanced over at his wife and snorted, “How?” he asked, turning back to her, “I can keep you sedated and locked up in your crib until the day you die and no one will even know you’re gone.” he hissed, walking back to her slowly, “You have no friends,” he said raising his index finger and counting it, “no family,” he counted on his middle finger, “no job,” he counted on his ring finger, “and no kids.” he counted on his pinkie as he reached the highchair. “You’re nothing but a helpless and worthless freak, and you will accept your role as the baby of this house and Kiki as your Mommy even if I have to beat every last atom of adulthood and independence out of you.” he threatened. “Now, apologize to Mommy and Daddy for being naughty and pushing your pudding onto the floor.” he commanded. The gears in Samantha’s mind slowly turned at how malicious and aggressive her husband was being, how a man that had shown her nothing but love and care as a Daddy was now threatening her with physical violence not only broke her heart, but left her a blubbering mess of rage with no way to express it, of hurt with no ability to say anything to change it. Kiki walked over, her high heels clicking on the floor of the kitchen as she took her spot beside her man and looked at the pathetic example of a woman before her, “You better apologize, baby girl.” she warned. Samantha looked up at the pair with tears streaming down her cheeks, her life was ruined, her marriage was over, her adulthood was being rescinded, and she was strapped into a highchair in her once favorite dress, her hair done into pigtails by Daddy after he’d gotten her changed and dressed. She sobbed at the memory of feeling so cute, the embodiment of the little version of her that lived inside, that sweet little girl that loved her Daddy and felt safe in his arms crushed by the cruel reality of the world, snuffed out by a hateful man with selfishness and malice in his heart. Her head throbbed and her vision blurred, “I-” she started to say before she felt a pop in her head and then nothing. I watched her slump forward in the highchair, the embolism in her brain ending her life instantly, and watched as William and Kiki panicked and argued about what to do, and turned the TV off when they started talking about burying the body somewhere. I returned to my desk and brought up William’s file. Time doesn’t move the same in the afterlife, so, while Samantha had just appeared in my office and moved on with my help, Earth was at a different point entirely. William and Kiki had decided to bury Samantha in the backyard, and did so without issue, but Kiki, overcome with guilt over what had happened, had begun pestering William with notions of coming clean and accepting whatever may happen to them. William, ever serving his own self interests, did to Kiki what he’d threatened Samantha with, drugging the woman and keeping her locked up in the nursery his late wife had once occupied. I skimmed the document on the screen and stopped when I got to the end, smiling with morbid satisfaction. William had slipped in the shower and become paralyzed but alive, though he’d landed on the drain and effectively plugged it with his body and lived his last agonizing minutes watching the water level in the tub rise until he drowned. Meanwhile, Kiki, drugged and shackled in the crib, starved to death but suffered greatly thanks to a severe case of diaper rash caused by William failing to change her for several days. I checked the final location for both and nodded approvingly at their appointment to somewhere very unpleasant for the duration of eternity and closed the file. I mentioned that today was the first day of my new appointment, but I failed to share what that appointment was. I am “Head of Embarrassment Induced Life Termination”, which is a fancy way of saying that when someone “dies of embarrassment” it’s not hyperbolic, they may have physically had a heart attack or stroke or something, but the sheer humiliation they endured led to their demise and I get to explain that to them and make them accept what happened to them, neat, right? Also, even though I’m “Head” of that field, I am the only person handling those cases, why, you might ask, well, because of who my boss is. ********* “How did your first case go?” She asked, her fingers tented on her much larger than my own desk in her much larger than my own office. I nodded, “Fine.” I said. “Samantha Walters transitioned successfully.” I added. “I understand you continued watching her video after she transitioned and looked into the fate of her husband and his mistress.” she said, her lips pursing as she stared at me above her glasses. “Is that not allowed?” I asked. She stood and folded her arms behind her back, looking out the window at the infinite sea of cubicles below, “Ella, when a spirit dwells on what happened to them for too long, what happens?” she asked me without turning around. I sighed, “A spirit returns to Earth as a ghost when they refuse to accept their fate.” I said flatly. She turned and nodded, “And if an agent of D.E.A.T.H. were, let’s just say, to take too great of an interest in the affairs of the living or recently deceased?” she asked. I scoffed, “Are we really going to have this conversation again?” I snapped. She raised an eyebrow, “Watch your tone.” she warned. “I’m justifiably concerned about your attachment to the living.” she reminded. “You’re not to go any further than is necessary in the course of your duties, am I understood?” she asked. If I still had blood, it would’ve rushed to my face, “Is that an order from my boss or from my overbearing big sister?” I sneered. She sighed and took a seat on the edge of her desk in front of me, “As your boss, I’m warning you to do your job and not linger on your cases any more than is necessary.” she said calmly before she leaned in so she was face to face with me, “As your older sister, I’m telling you that if you sass me again, I’ll make sure your next post is even less desirable than your current one.” she said softly. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I whined. She rolled her eyes, “Ever the sniveling brat, aren’t you?” she asked rhetorically before sighing heavily, “I can’t leave you alone because it’s my job to account for the activities of my subordinates.” she reminded me, her tone authoritative but calm, “Also, because not all that long ago we had quite the issue with you and your,” she paused, searching for the word she wanted to use, “fascination” she said with a smug smirk, “with the living.” she said. “Oh, I’m sorry that I chose to come up here and have you lecture me about pointless shit, Mira.” I spat. “How rude it was of me to interrupt your busy schedule of smelling your own farts and congratulating yourself for being the daughter that died with dignity.” I snapped, folding my arms across my chest petulantly. “That’s not fair and you know it.” she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked at me. She stood and returned to her seat, “You’re dismissed.” she said coldly, “But know that I’m monitoring your work going forward and if I see any warning signs, I’m pulling you from the floor.” she warned. I stood and made a theatrical bowing gesture, “Adieu, your highness.” I sneered before storming out of her office and slamming the door behind me. ********* “Everything alright?” a small voice asked from the doorway of my office some time later. I looked up from my monitor and smiled, “Yeah.” I said. “Just Mira being Mira.” I added. The little girl at the door crossed the threshold and hoisted herself up and into the chair in front of my desk. Lucy was perpetually four years old, and was the head of the children’s division of Reapers, her job is exactly as depressing as it sounds, but Lucy is sweet and amazing at her job and makes sure every client is happy and at peace when she brings them in. We can dress however we want, but Lucy leans into the four year old she looks like and wears cute little overalls with snaps up the inseam and crotch and these little Velcro shoes that light up and squeak when she walks and she has the most adorable little Afro that makes me want to scoop her up and snuggle her to pieces until I remember that she’s hundreds of years old at this point and hates being talked down to and treated like a child. “What’s got her knickers in a twist now?” Lucy asked. I sighed, “She’s worried that I’m going to go ghost because I watched a client’s video after they transitioned and looked up the husband and his mistress afterward.” I explained. “Are you?” she asked. I looked at her quizzically, “Am I what?” I asked. “Gonna go spook?” she asked. “No!” I said a little louder than I meant to, “This woman died of embarrassment because her dick hole husband slash Daddy drugged her against her will and brought his mistress over during highchair pudding time and proceeded to threaten her with a life of captivity and abuse if she didn’t accept her role as baby of the house.” I explained, “I was curious to see everything unfold and wanted a resolution to the story.” I clarified. Lucy nodded slowly, “Sounds like another Allison situation.” she said. I closed my eyes for a moment and saw a flash of Allison before opening my eyes, “We agreed never to mention her.” I reminded her. She smiled at me and nodded, though her smile did little to mask her worry, “We did agree to that, because it’s natural to have feelings like that.” she said. “I still struggle when I have to bring in a kid that drowned.” she told me. “It’s just not healthy to focus so hard on them that you go ghost.” she added. I nodded, “I know, and I’m fine.” I said flatly. “Thank you for checking on me though.” I added, smiling at her. She returned my smile, “Wanna hang out after work?” she asked as she slid off the chair and headed to the door. “Do you mind?” I asked. She shook her head, “Babysitting is fun.” she teased, sticking her tongue out at me and giggling as she slipped out the door, the squeak of her shoes making me smile. ********* I don’t know how Heaven and Hell, or whatever they’re called by whoever ends up there operate, but at D.E.A.T.H., because the work floor is an infinite labyrinth of cubicles and offices, we kind of just appear where we want or need to be at any given time, so after stepping out of my office, I’m instantly stepping into what is basically my living quarters, an oxymoron to be sure, but it is what it is. The thought is that if we have an outlet outside of our work that we won’t fall into the dangerous behavior like spending all our time coveting the living’s lives and filling ourselves with resentment and longing that causes us to turn into vengeful spirits that head to the living world to wreak havoc. Anything we want can be conjured, for lack of a better word, into our living quarters, some people have tables with puzzles in various states of completion, others have an entire orchestra’s worth of instruments to play, while some just watch TV. My living area has changed many times in the hundred plus years since I died and came here, but recently it’s changed to reflect the interests I’ve collected from my time working with the recently deceased, the “Allison” that Lucy had mentioned was the cause of the current setup, and the reason that Mira was so concerned about me. “If she’s so concerned about me becoming obsessed to the point that I turn ghost, why put me on the job she put me on?” I asked Lucy later that evening. Lucy shrugged her shoulders softly, “Exposure therapy?” she offered uncertainly, “Maybe she feels that showing you how things like this have caused people to die will make you not romanticize it.” she added as she twisted the cap on the baby bottle she had filled and brought it over to where I sat on the floor, holding it out for me to take with my outstretched hands. We don’t eat or drink, so nursing a bottle of milk is as useless as the diaper I wore but couldn’t use, it was all pantomime, theater for my senses to trick my brain into feeling like I was experiencing the things they did. “If humiliation were a deterrent, don’t you think I’d be doing this at my own place alone?” I asked between sucks of the bottle’s nipple. Lucy shrugged once more and lowered herself to the floor beside me, stroking my hair gently, “She loves you and just wants to make sure you don’t get into trouble.” she reminded me. I nodded softly and pulled the bottle from my mouth, “If she loved me then she’d let me see her.” I said bitterly. Lucy gently pushed the nipple back into my mouth, “I thought you were coming over to have some baby time, not to bitch and moan about Mira and how unfair things are for you.” she teased, her lips curling into a wicked little smile, “Unless you’re secretly looking for me to take you to Mira for a spanking.” she said, covering her mouth to stifle a soft giggle at my expense. I glared up at her and gave protesting grunt before I closed my eyes and drank my bottle like a good baby. “You know that she probably knows about you and I getting together to play, right?” she asked once the bottle was empty and set aside to be replaced with my pacifier. I shook my head, “She’s evil, but she still respects my privacy off the clock.” I said, pacifier bobbing as my garbled words came out around the sizable teat. Lucy stood and stretched, her overalls dissolving into pink footed pajamas, “We have some time left if you want to cuddle in the crib.” she offered. I nodded and willed my outfit to match hers, the bottom of my pajamas bulging around my diaper where hers were smooth and taught against her body. “Why don’t you ever wear diapers with me?” I asked as I crawled beside her to the nursery she had set up in the other room. Climbing up the little step stool in front of it, she worked the latch of the crib with her little hands and lowered the side, “I mean, diapers like what you’re wearing didn’t exist when I was alive and I’m not super interested in a giant wad of fabric under my clothes.” she answered as she waited for me to climb into the crib and lay down. “Then why bother with the snap crotch overalls and the overall toddler aesthetic?” I asked, watching her climb in and pull the side of the crib up before she snuggled up next to me. She kissed my forehead, “Because I was a cute ass baby and sadly I’m stuck being cute for the rest of eternity, but I can’t use a diaper anyway, so why not just skip it?” she asked. I giggled, “You are super cute.” I agreed, hugging her tightly like she was my own living, breathing stuffed animal. “You’re pretty cute yourself.” she said, “A little silly looking given your adult proportions, but I’d still pinch your cheeks and fawn over you.” she added. I pulled my pacifier out of my mouth and kissed her forehead, “I love you, Lucy.” I said, “I wish you were my sister instead of Mira.” I added before slipping my pacifier back in and closing my eyes. She sighed softly, “I love you too, baby sister.” she cooed in a soft whisper. ********* Mira watched the pair cuddling in the crib for a moment on her computer, the camera in the stuffed bear atop the changing table allowing her to see and hear everything happening in the nursery and made a disgusted groan as she turned the monitor off and sat back in her chair to contemplate the best course of action for dealing with her sister’s behavior. To Be Continued...

Jennifer is a adult baby and after getting enough money she decides to move to a new community that welcomes adult babies. After doing a lot of reaching she finds a place that is set up like a college campus where everyone has their own dorm. Instead of a regular dorm room it i a full nursery. All the adult babies have there own caregiver that will look after them.

Being an adult baby, diaper dependent and Incontinent, I'm so sick and tired of the stigma attached to wearing diapers. People in society associate diapers that only babies where and society never seems to understand that diapers are not just for babies, but also for anyone who has a medical, psychological or personal need. On top of that Society makes you feel weird, guilty and ashamed for wearing diapers. It's like society wants to shame you for wearing diapers and trying to solve a medical issue that you have. I know we're all different but at some point, people and society really have to stop with these old stereotypes, notions and beliefs about wearing diapers and the people who have to wear them. After all, this is 2022 and we are in the 21st century and those old stereotypes, notions and beliefs about wearing diapers belong in the 19th and 20th century. When a theoretical physicist with ALS finds the will to live and embraces the technology to allow him to continue a stellar career, he is celebrated across the globe; When a double-amputee track athlete wins an Olympic medal, the world looks on in awe. When a blind man learns to play piano and sing, he becomes one of popular music's most enduring and beloved figures. But when those of us with no/compromised bladder or bowel control find the right products to contain the situation, and also find the courage to wear them, we still live in the "incontinence closet", in fear that someone will "find out" that we have a medical problem. It is only we who can solve this inequity, not others. As so many here have said, few people in our lives would reject us because of this problem. The sooner we accept that for truth, the sooner we will be free of this long-held and deeply-damaging secret. It's why being an adult baby, diaper dependent and incontinent, i'm sick and tired of all the diaper stigma's attached to being diapered and wearing diapers. I'm not ashamed, afraid or even scared of wearing diapers and knowing they help me deal with being incontinent. Being diapered and an adult baby is how i deal with the adult world and how i deal with being incontinent. It's why I'm at an age where I am comfortable in being diapered and not ashamed, afraid or humiliated for wearing diapers. It's time to end the stigma of wearing diapers and put those old stereotypes, notions and beliefs about wearing diapers back in the 19th and 20th century where they belong.

Mary is a president of a hedge fund and has had a hard life growing up. She never had a childhood or to think of it a babyhood. So she decides to put a add online to become a baby to someone.

Madeline is a adult baby and decides to open a adult baby store for people who would like to live the adult baby lifestyle. The store includes diapers cribs changing tables and outfits. She has everything she needs except costumes.

Newer than real. Faster than real. Better than real. The TotalVerse is reality. Augmented. Advanced. Improved. Order your TotalSet today. … The prospects of the technology were, on their own, tantalizing. Lab-D technologies had outdone themselves, to the point where it seemed too good to be true. A non-invasive neural interface that delivered optical, stereoscopic, tactile, and olfactory feedback with precision that matched reality to a nearly analogue level. Already, demand far outstripped supply. If getting a PS8 had been difficult, getting a TotalSet to enter the TotalVerse was downright impossible. Scalpers made a mint. Influencers had to call in favors to get their hands on a set. Just owning one was a flex, to the point where people bought knockoff decals that looked like a headset. Visually, it was hard to tell the two metal chips the size of a pinkie nail from a fake, especially tucked behind the user’s ears, which made the fakes all the more appealing. Martin got his through a miracle. Refresh after refresh after refresh, watching all the store pages, none of it worked. Then he got the phonecall. “Hey, Marty–you know anyone who wants one of these headsets? My uncle got one and he says it makes him dizzy, he’s just trying to get back what he spent–okay, you can stop screaming.” It took a five hour drive upstate to get it, but within a day he was home, and in possession of his very own TotalVerse. Sitting on his couch, he buzzed with excitement as he wired it up. Two metal dots behind his ears, and a tiny pinprick of pain as the interface booted up. Then, his room came alive. A woman appeared in front of him, dressed in a purple tank top and matching purple skirt. Her hair, her eyes, and her jewelry were all the Lab-D Purple. His virtual assistant, then. “Hi! I’m Tallie. I’m here to help you set up your TotalSet!” she said. She looked real, as though Martin could reach out and touch her. In a childish impulse, he did so, and to his shock he felt real skin under his hands. His eyes widened. Tallie smiled. “I see you’re touching me. Your default setting is tactile feedback when not in a hazardous environment–would you like to disable that?” The options were already tantalizing. Sweating a little, glancing around uncertainly, Martin asked the awkward question. “Uh… Tallie. Could we have sex? If I wanted to. I mean–” “Certainly!” Tallie beamed, the smile highlighting the dimples on her cheeks. “There’s a suite of options for physical sensations. Would you like to customize my appearance first?” “I–no, not yet!” Martin said. “I just…jeez. Wow. Oh my god.” “I’ve finished calibrating your TotalVerse body settings,” Tallie said. “Your in-world body should match your own quite well, but you’re welcome to tweak the settings! More dramatic changes within the TotalVerse can be acquired from a licensed vendor.” There it was. The micro-transactions had made themselves clear; a TotalSet got him access to the servers, the unparalleled virtual reality world of limitless possibilities. If he wanted anything beyond that–rippling muscles, extreme physical enhancements, a dragon to ride around on–he’d need to get out his wallet. Martin didn’t much care. This was amazing. “Take me to the TotalVerse, please!” Tallie smiled. “Alright! Lie down in a comfortable position, please! I’ll be monitoring your body for safety, but it’s suggested you take breaks every hour.” He grinned, laid back on his couch, and shut his eyes. He opened them in another world entirely. The TotalVerse. Or, well, the TotalVerse lobby. He sat in what looked like an enormous convention hall, with prepopulated vendors selling basic cosmetics. Clothes, body enhancements, in-verse pets. He’d spawned with just a white T-shirt, black pants, and generic tennis shoes, but the stores offered him plenty of opportunities to customize. He’d do that later. For now, he wanted to go out into the world. “Tallie, I want to go somewhere,” he said. She appeared next to him, still beaming. “Your profile still needs a few details before we enter the TotalVerse–please review the following menus and confirm everything is correct!” A series of boxes appeared floating in front of Martin, confirming details. Even as lucky as he’d been, “Martin” had already been claimed as a username, but “MartinPalmer” was still open, so he just kept his full name. The slider options for his body were pretty useless, but he toyed with them to at least give himself the appearance of a slight summer tan and as athletic as the options would allow. He still looked like himself, just more ‘after a good summer’ himself instead of ‘done with a post-christmas binge’ himself. Still, he enviously eyed the greyed-out section on the slider. This was virtual reality, he wanted the body of an adonis. Of course, if he could do it, everyone could and it wouldn’t be special, but now it just meant that those with wealth or the time and discipline to exercise regularly would get the impressive looks, while he’d still be left out. There were minimal default clothes, just a few color options for the T-shirt and pants and an optional purple Lab-D Ballcap. He wanted fashion, but instead selected a blue T and white pants, skipped the tacky cap, and to his surprise when he hit ‘select’, they appeared in the air next to him and fell to the ground with a realistic flop. Glancing around, feeling awkward for stripping in such a large space–even a large, empty space–he stripped down to his virtual boxers and dressed in the new clothes. Everything felt real. If he hadn’t known he was wearing the TotalSet, he’d have no way of distinguishing this from reality. “Alright,” he said. “I’m set. Take me to the TotalVerse.” “Are you sure? Once you lock in your account, settings cannot be changed without spending Total Tokens for modifications.” “Sure,” Martin confirmed. “Just take me in.” “Where would you like to go?” Tallie asked. “Just…wherever. Is there a good place to get acquainted?” he asked. “Would you like to go to one of the TotalVerse Lounges?” Tallie asked. Martin shrugged. He just wanted to go anywhere. “Sure!” “Close your eyes, and I’ll take you there.” He did. She did. When Martin opened his eyes, he stood in a huge, elaborate cocktail lounge. Large steel balconies hung overhead, techno music thumped at a pleasant volume, and hundreds of other people milled about, dancing, chatting, or just taking in the sights. Many wore the same generic T-shirt/pants combination as Martin, but others had more elaborate wear–anything from high fashion to medieval armor. Several had inhuman features; tails, horns, or wings that let them fly from the ground floor to the balcony in a single sweep. Instantly, Martin felt a pang of jealousy. “How much are wings?” he asked aloud. Someone snickered next to him. Martin looked over to see a girl about his height, wearing a cocktail dress and a fabulous gold tiara. She had striking red eyes, and a body that drew Martin’s gaze for more than a moment. “If you want to talk to Tallie here, you have to say, ‘Hey Tallie!’–uh, no thank you. I’m done, Tallie.” “Thanks,” Martin said. “Hey Tallie!” Tallie appeared next to him, chipper as ever, standing between him and the girl. “How can I help you?” Martin leaned to the side. “Uh…” “She’s your Tallie, I can’t see her,” the girl explained, smirking. “Right. Hey Tallie, how much do wings cost?” Martin asked. Tallie raised her hand, and a menu appeared with a merchant page. “There are a variety of mod vendors who sell wings–prices range from fifty thousand to eighty thousand thousand Total Tokens. Would you like to shop for options?” Martin’s eyes widened as he did the math in his head, converting real money to tokens. That was way out of his price range. “No thanks.” Leaning aside again, he asked the girl, “How do I make her go away?” “You say, “I’m done, Tallie,” the girl explained. “I’m done, Tallie.” His virtual assistant blinked out of existence, leaving him facing the girl again. “Hi, I’m Martin.” “Daemon,” she replied. “You must be new here.” He chuckled. “What gave it away?” She looked him up and down. “No mods, no clothes, you don’t know how to call your Tallie–trust me, it stands out. Nothing to be embarrassed about, once you spend a few tokens you’ll be looking sharp.” Martin blushed. “Well, that’s the thing–” “Ah.” Daemon laughed. “Token poor, eh? Don’t worry, I know some people who can help with that.” “I’ve got a job,” Martin said. Daemon smirked. “Why don’t we talk somewhere more…private?” “Another room?” he asked. “Off the TotalVerse,” Daemon explained. “I’ll give you my Chaos handle, we can chat–you do have a Chaos account, right? The popular chat service?” “Oh, yeah. I mostly use it for gaming,” Martin said. “We should talk there.” Daemon looked around the club. “There’s eyes everywhere, and you don’t want to get in trouble and have your account locked–you only get one shot, y’know.” “Oh, sure.” Martin shrugged. “Okay.” They exchanged contact info, and she waved at him. “Talk to you soon, Martin. I can’t wait to see what you spend your tokens on.” Daemon disappeared in a blink, leaving Martin alone in the club. Glancing over, he walked to the bar, feeling a bit uncertain. “How much is a…how about a lemon drop?” “Just one token,” the bartender explained, leaning over the counter. With a start, Martin realized that she looked identical to Tallie, save for her outfit. “You want one?” Martin did the math in his head–one token was cheaper than a drink at a real bar. “Sure.” From nowhere, she passed him the shot glass, and Martin downed it in one swig. The alcohol hit him–a mild surprise. He’d known the sensory control was solid, but this was incredible–and he wanted to know what else he could experience. But to experience it, he needed tokens. “Eh, screw it,” he said. “Hey, Tallie. Take me back to real life.” “Alright!” Tallie said, blinking into unreality across from him. “Just close your eyes!” He obeyed, and felt his couch underneath him. The buzz of alcohol, though, hadn’t gone away. “Tallie, am I still tipsy?” Standing over him, his virtual assistant nodded. “Would you like to sober up?” “No, I just didn’t realize it crossed over,” Martin sat up. Reaching out for his phone, he pulled up the Chaos messenger, added Daemon’s user ID, and sent a message. ‘You mentioned tokens?’ Her message came back a second later. ‘I’ve got a lead on a way to generate tokens. Since the software’s still new, there’s a few exploits–from within your account controls, I can underflow the system to max out your tokens. It’ll only take a few minutes.’ Martin’s eyes widened. After the stroke of luck with getting a headset at all, he hadn’t expected to be rolling in virtual currency. ‘Won’t I get banned, though?’ ‘That’s the thing–the bug is untraceable. I did it on my own account, you saw what I was wearing, right?’ Daemon had a point. Martin considered for a moment. He didn’t want to get permanently locked out of his account due to hacking, but if she’d done it… And besides, what fun was virtual reality if he couldn’t do anything? ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘What do I need to do?’ ‘Just go into your user settings and pull a couple ID numbers for me,’ Daemon sent back. ‘I’ll send the list. That’ll let me tweak your account balance.’ ‘Okay, great.’ Martin said aloud, “Hey, Tallie. I need some numbers, can you read them to me?” He read Daemon’s list aloud, and when Tallie gave him the codes, he typed them in diligently. ‘Thanks’, Daemon said. Martin started to type out a response, but curiously, before he could hit send, Daemon’s name grayed out. “Weird…” He wasn’t sure what to do next. Maybe he already had the tokens. Maybe it’d all been a scam–but if it had, he wasn’t worried, he didn’t have an account balance to clear out. “Tallie, take me back to the club,” he said, laying back and closing his eyes. When he reappeared, he looked around for Daemon, but she was nowhere to be seen. He checked his account balance, but it still sat at a single digit number, his starting balance from opening an account. “You’ve got a message!” Tallie said. “From an anonymous user.” “Uh…” Martin frowned. “What is it?” “It says, ‘Fifty thousand credits, and we’ll give your account access back.’ And then there’s a TotalVerse Banking account number.” Tillie beamed while she spoke, totally at odds with what she’d just said. Martin looked around the club, shocked. He half expected to see Daemon smirking at him, but all he saw were the faces of other new users in their various attire, a few of whom were glancing at him curiously. “What?” “It says, ‘Fifty thousand credits, and we’ll give your account access–” “Yeah, no, I heard you.” Martin gaped. “Tillie, show me user settings.” “I’m afraid your user settings are password protected,” Tillie smiled. “Can you tell me the password?” “I…but…” Martin started to say. He had no followup. He’d fallen for a stupid scam within ten minutes of opening his account. And then he noticed the warmth in his pants. Looking down, his eyes widened, shocked as he saw a dark, wet stain spreading down from his crotch, turning the white fabric bright yellow. “Tillie, what the hell?” “I’m sorry, I don’t understand the question,” Tillie said. “Why did I just–” Martin looked around, horrified to see the smirks being cast his direction. In a quiet hiss, he finished, “Piss myself?” “It looks like your potty training settings have been adjusted to zero,” Tillie said. “You can reset that at any time from your user settings. Would you like to go there now?” “Yes!” Martin snapped. “I’m afraid your user settings are password protected,” Tillie smiled. “Can you tell me the password?” Martin blanched. His account had been bricked, unless he was willing to pay a ransom or continue pissing his pants in the TotalVerse. “I…” A passing guy snickered. “You got scammed, bro!” While Martin took that in, Tallie chimed in again. “It looks like your clothes are dirty. Would you like to have them cleaned, or change to a different outfit from your inventory?” “I don’t have any other clothes!” Martin snapped. “Yes you do! Your inventory has plenty of options,” Tillie said, raising her hand. A menu appeared, showing he had one other piece of clothing in his wardrobe inventory–a plain, white, puffy diaper.” Martin swallowed. “Take me back to the loading room, please.” They vanished from the bar, and reappeared in the starting area. He took a breath. “How much does it cost to clean my clothing?” “You may have your clothing automatically refreshed once per day,” Tallie said. “Additional cleanings cost credits, depending on the item.” “Can I buy other clothes?” he asked. “I’m afraid that option is password protected,” Tillie smiled. “Can you tell me the password?” “Dammit!” Martin snapped. “Ok. Ok, this is fine. Can I still, like, buy stuff?” “Your ability to purchase mods and clothing is password protected, but your other options are currently available,” Tillie said. “Is there something you’d like to buy?” “No, I just…” Sitting down, Martin took a deep breath. “Shit. So I can either ditch my headset completely, or deal with…ugh. Diapers.” He’d have to think about it. It was just annoying enough that he might put up with the embarrassment and nuisance, if it meant getting the other benefits of the TotalVerse. Besides, as fun as the Verse parts were, the most important aspect was the augmented reality. Those settings would be lifechanging, the kind he’d wanted the set for to begin with. If nothing else, getting to bang Tallie whenever he wanted would be well worth the sticker price. “Okay, Tallie, I’m ready to leave the TotalVerse,” he said. “Alright! Close your–” He already had his eyes closed, and he returned to reality. Once again, he was laying on his couch, the t-shirt went away and was replaced with his tank top, and his wet pants… He was still in wet pants. Opening his eyes, he looked down, shocked to see that his jeans were just as soaked as his pants in-verse had been. “Uh…” he said. “Uh…” All his user settings had been modified. Not just the in-verse settings. If he wanted the potty training back, he’d have to take off his headset completely. “Uh, Tallie…” he started to say. She blinked into appearance on his lap. “Would you like to have sex now?” His concerns faded. He could take off the headset later. And maybe he could just buy some diapers for regular-day use, too. ... Hey there, author note! I'd like to know what you think of the concept in this story. Aside from the plot itself, there's a lot I could do with the concept of a VR universe like this. I'd like to hear your comments! Also... I already wrote another story in this universe, it's in early access on Patreon & SubscribeStar. "Gamer Pants: the Stat Dump" will be out publicly next month, but you can read it early if you want to support my writing! https://www.patreon.com/posts/67843661 https://subscribestar.adult/posts/628275

Hello! This is the first story I've ever written, so I'm still getting a feel for my writing style and learning a lot! Appreciate any and all feedback as long as criticism is constructive. I'm not sure how long I want to make it, but so far I have about 8 chapters that I've already written and it doesn't feel close to done with what I want to do by the end. I feel I should mention as well I'm not a huge fan of baby talk in stories, but in the spirit of making things apparent while still feeling natural, there are some instances where it'll be done when pacis or something are involved, but I'm sorry if it's inconsistent hah. Clearly by the title it takes place in the Pokemon world, so if you're into that or the games, then awesome! If not, then I'm sorry if things end up a bit confusing ;^; I've posted 3 chapters elsewhere already, so I figure I'll do the same here! CW for the story, I may update as more chapters come: Diaper messing, diaper wetting, forced regression, hypno. Chapter 1 It was a beautiful sunny day on route 7, just outside of Hammerlocke city. The Rookidee were chirping, Ribombee and Cutiefly going from flower to flower, and standing outside of a new building just outside of town was a curious, new trainer, Rina. She looked up at the building, a sign above the door stating simply “Pokémon Nursery”, however the curious thing was up until recently, it had been a completely abandoned building, and it seemed to have little to no association with the other two more well-known Pokémon nurseries in the region. The front of the building was adorned with flower boxes beneath a bay window, and beds alongside the bottom. Rina walked to the side of the building to look around the corner, in order to see if there was anything interesting or telling around back. A fence blocked her path, but she could still make out quite a bit. A small playground stood to the side of the building, with more flowers behind it, towards a fence she could make out at the back, and a small pond could be seen peeking out from directly behind the building, slightly out of view. Everything seemed to be normal enough, and she definitely had a few Pokémon that she thought may benefit from a place like this, just so she didn’t have to spend a ton of her own time getting them through those early stages of training, and she could keep working on getting her stronger partners ready for more gyms. She wanted to win, she had to be the best! She didn’t have the time to build out the perfect team all by herself. As she stood there, she patted down the front of her skirt, wiped off her jacked trying to tidy up, checked her pink hair in the reflection of the window, before thinking “Why are you so nervous? It’s just a Pokémon nursery! They’re here to help trainers out!” With that she closed her eyes and opened the door, causing a small bell inside to jingle, signaling someone had walked in. As she walked into the front room, she looked around taking everything in. The whole foyer definitely had a bit of a preschool aesthetic to it. From the outside it seemed like a quaint cottage, fitting for the area, but inside, aside from the front wall, it felt very modern. Pastel colors adorned the walls, alongside various cute baby Pokémon decals. A sparse, new bulletin board was on the left hand side of the room, along with a few chairs for people to wait for assistance. Another door stood in the back of the room, to the right of the main welcoming desk, behind which stood a kind looking Indeedee who simply smiled up at the trainer. She walked nervously up to the Indeedee, who just continued staring. “Hello, is there anyone else here? I’m interested in your nursery services! Do you have a list of services or prices I could look at while I wait for whoever runs this place?” The Indeedee’s ears perked up, and she smiled, jumping up and down excitedly listening to the new trainer, before walking around the side of the counter, standing next to Rina, and holding a hand up for the trainer to grab. “Oh, you want me to follow you to who runs this place? Alright…” and with that she grabbed the creature’s hand, now being led towards the door to the right. She thought the whole thing to be a bit odd. Typically, the way this worked was you talk with the person at the counter, they ask which Pokémon you’d like them to watch, they charge you P500 for each, and that’s that! However, there wasn’t a person in sight, nobody outside, no prices, and not a single Pokémon to speak of other than the one that she assumed worked here! Was she their first customer? There was no way! Though she had to admit, everything looked so new, and with it seemingly not related to the other nurseries, maybe people were just being apprehensive and sticking with who they know. As she was moving she noticed there was no PC to be seen. No matter, she could drop off her Sylveon, Ribbon, while she went and grabbed some lunch just to see how things went before she committed to leaving more, just as a test. As she got to the door and opened it, she wasn’t prepared for what awaited her inside. Rina opened the door and was immediately hit with the smell of baby powder. She looked around, and what she saw shocked her. “What in Arceus…” she muttered. Her eyes were looking everywhere. She’d never been inside the rooms in Pokémon nurseries, but she had to wonder, were they all like this? Like an actual…nursery? It had it all. A changing table was pressed against the back wall, the drawers beneath stocked with a multitude of diapers, bottles, lotions, you name it. To her right sat a rather large crib, above which an adorable Eeveelution mobile dangled, reflecting all sorts of beautiful lights. Pillows and toys were spread all over, though it had a bit of the tidy mess look to it all, like it was just ready and waiting to be played with by someone. She noticed a Lapras shaped training potty in the corner at the foot of the changing table, and some sort of chart above it. To her left she heard another door open and looked over to see the Indeedee walking through it, presumably to bring her whoever ran this place. Looking closer though and taking it all in, she began to notice things. First, there were other Pokémon here. She noticed a trash bin at the head of the changing table, at the foot of which sat a diaper pail and a rather odd looking Trubbish, but it was so still she thought it fake or something of the sort. She gave it an awkward smile and a wave, and to her shock it actually gave her a kind wave back, before settling into motionlessness yet again. She looked towards the large crib pillows, and noticed they were unmistakably Whimsicott fluff. Was it still in there, or was that just leftover fluff? She walked closer to the crib, and only then did it hit her how large it was. It was person sized, not baby Pokémon sized. Sure, larger Pokémon hatched from eggs just the same as small ones, but they typically didn’t need all of…this. Did they? She wasn’t all too sure, she’d never hatched one, but she couldn’t imagine most Pokémon this sort of environment. Continuing on that line of thought, she started second guessing the changing table. She walked over to it and picked up one of the diapers. They were also, like the crib, too big for baby Pokémon. Her mind was racing, but before she had too long to think about it, a voice popped into her head. “Oh welcome, welcome to our Pokémon nursery little one!” The voice said. Rina turned around to find what could potentially be the largest Gardevoir she had ever set eyes on or even heard about. She was walking out of the room with the Indeedee in tow, and continued her psychic speak. “My name is Bella, and sweet Indeedee told me you were interested in our nursery services!” she said with a quite clearly excited smile. “Is the customer you or are you inquiring for someone else?” Chapter 2 Rina looked up at the massive Gardevoir, probably a good three feet taller than her. Was this an alpha? Surely someone with an alpha Pokémon in this day and age wouldn’t be using it to help run a nursery! She decided to reply instead of thinking of more things to confuse herself. “Hi yes! No it’s me that’s interested. How much do you all charge? I didn’t see any signage or advertisement anywhere out front, or in the foyer.” she asked, trying to speed things along and be on her way. “…Charge? Oh sweetie you have it all wrong! We do this strictly because we enjoy taking care of the little ones! It brings so many of us such joy, and I’m so glad to hear that you’re interested!” said Bella’s voice, ringing through Rina’s head like a song, while she brought her hands to her face in excitement. Maybe she was their first customer. Bella looked down at Rina’s outfit, and noticed the pokeball hanging from Rina’s purse “Oh and is this your partner? If you just hand them over to Indeedee here, she’ll see to it they’re in perfect hands!” Rina nodded, kissing the pokeball goodbye, even if only for a couple of hours, and handed her Sylveon over to what seemed to be the…secretary? Assistant? She was curious, but just left it at helper. “Well I suppose that’s it then, thank you!” And with that she turned to walk away and head out, when suddenly she felt something touch her. Bella was reaching out and grabbing her hand as she was walking away. She turned around confused and just looked at the Gardevoir, wondering what she wanted. “Oh no no no, sweetie! Come now, just relax and lets get you all situated” Was the last thing Rina heard in her head before there were some dancing lights all throughout her vision. Pink. Purple. Blue. Swirling together, making her eyes, then her whole body heavy. Oh no. Was she being hypnotized? Suddenly a lot more things started making sense. The lack of people, the baby amenities fit for a human, this wasn’t a Pokémon nursery for Pokémon, this was a Nursery run by Pokémon for people! The thought didn’t last long though, as before she knew it, the dancing lights were over, but the heavy feeling remained, and it was all consuming. She thought she’d collapse to the floor, but before she did, she felt herself being lifted up in front of Bella, before being embraced in a gleeful hug, followed by the two of them floating over towards the changing table together. As she was laid onto the soft top of the table, she could barely keep her eyes open. Thoughts weren’t connecting. Rina at last tried to say something, but all that she managed to get out was “nnn…..baby” Bella looked down at her in sheer joy, and all Rina heard back was “That’s right sweetie! You’re going to be an absolutely adorable baby! Don’t you worry about a thing, leave it all to us!” before falling into a deep slumber. While she slept, various images and scenarios appeared and were dreamed up in her head. She was in the mountains, training hard with her team. She saw her pokemon hurt from a battle, but fighting on regardless. Babyish imagery began flashing intermittently. A pacifier, a bottle, a diaper. Next thing she knew, she was dreaming of the nursery. The crib, the changing table, and Bella. After who knows how long, Rina began to awaken, reaching up to wipe the sleep from her eyes groggily. “What a strange dream” she thought, looking up and seeing the same dangling mobile she’d seen in the crib in her….dream? Wait no, that part wasn’t a dream. She sat up quickly, and it was then that she felt, and heard, the crinkle coming from beneath her clothes. Wait. These weren’t her clothes. She was dressed in what seemed like a kindergarteners outfit, blue top, a red skirt. Reaching down to lift the skirt up though, was when she saw the bulk that she felt. A Togepi egg print diaper, taped around her waist, the perfect size for her. She wanted to scream, but that’s when she noticed the pacifier in her mouth. She reached up to pull it out, but her body wouldn’t obey! Her hand just stopped when she touched it. She wanted to spit it out, but it was like she couldn’t remember how to. Clearly some sort of effect of hypnosis that the Gardevoir had used on her. She sat there, crossed her arms, and pouted, unconsciously sucking on the paci a little bit, thinking about what to do. She had to get out of here. Escape, something! The longer she stayed here, the more danger she was in. As she got to her feet, wobbly on the fluffy cushioning of the crib mattress, it was clear there was no way she was climbing out. The bars of the crib came up to about her chest. It was about then that Bella walked back in from the other mystery room. “Oh my is the baby awake?! Look at you! You are just the cutest thing! We’re so lucky you’re the first trainer to come through our doors!” Came through Rina’s mind, and the surprise of a sudden voice was enough for her to lose her balance and drop down right on to her butt with a puff of powder and a crinkle. Tears began to well in her eyes. She was embarrassed, humiliated, didn’t know what had been done to her mind, and she was trapped! It was all too much, and despite the paci being stuck there for now, she began to cry and wail around it, causing Bella to rush over in a panic. Using psychic, she effortless floated the girl out of the crib and in front of her, and before Rina could say or do anything, Bella felt just inside the side of the girl’s diapers. Rina’s eyes went wide in shock, and she instantly tried swatting the Pokémon’s arms away. “Hmm, you’re still all clean. Why so fussy, darling? Are you hungry?” she asked more rhetorically rather than just asking Rina herself. She floated the girl down to the floor into a sitting position, before starting to hover off into the next room over. “You wait right there! I’ve got just the thing!” Was the last thing Rina heard before the Pokémon disappeared, before shortly emerging back carrying a baby bottle full of white liquid that she could only assume was milk. Next thing she knew, she was being floated up into the Gardevoir’s arms and cradled. She knew what was coming, and she was going to fight it. She puffed her cheeks out around the paci angrily. She would make it clear this was all a mistake, some sort of misunderstanding. “Alrighty baby girl, say ahhhhh!” rang in her head, and Bella removed the paci from her mouth. Instantly, Rina began shouting. “I’M NOT A BA-mmmph!” was all she managed to get out before having the nipple from the bottle shoved into her mouth by some unseen force. She kept trying to talk around it, but all she could get out were murmurs. “Such a fussy baby. Shh, shh, it’s okay! This will help fill you right up!” She managed to hear through her struggling. The girl didn’t suckle, didn’t drink, but every so often a drop would come out of the bottle and land on her tongue. It was milky, but it was thick and sweet. Was this baby formula?! She began wriggling to get away and out of her arms, but the Gardevoir held her strong. After a moment though, her stomach let out a groaning growl, and the girl blushed. She cursed her body for betraying her, and Bella picked up on it instantly. Rina saw Bella’s hand start to glow before coming up to her eyes, and she heard her voice again. “So you were hungry! Still not drinking, though? I didn’t want to do this, but if you’re going to be difficult. Drink up, little one! It’s yummy! You’ll feel much better after, too!” the voice said in her head. The suggestion with the hypnosis was all it took, and the girl began suckling. She was completely aware of what was happening though, she didn’t feel heavy or sleepy at all like last time. She tried to stop, but her mouth wouldn’t obey. She tried to grab the bottle out of the air, but it wouldn’t budge from being pushed into her mouth by the powerful Pokémon’s abilities. As the thick, sweet liquid washed over her mouth more, she was taken aback by how delicious it was. It tasted way better than it had a second ago, and she remembered what she heard. It was just another part of the hypnosis, she told herself, but it didn’t matter. As she started drinking more, she felt a rhythmic pat on her bottom, her diaper crinkling with each “thump….thump…”, and she was taken aback, but she was so absorbed in trying to stop herself, while at the same time not fully wanting to because of the taste. Before too long, she stopped trying to resist. She stopped caring about the hypnosis. She stopped caring about the pats. She just drank, and then the bottle was empty. Chapter 3 Once the bottle had been emptied, it floated over onto a table. As it left her mouth, Rina just sat there in the Gardevoir’s arms, shocked. “There there, all better!” She heard in her head. She was still reeling mentally from the situation. As easy as could be, she had been stripped of control and forced to drink a whole bottle of formula like it was nothing. She tried to stay calm, but she had to admit she was a little afraid. “What...did you do to me? Why?” She managed to ask once realized her mouth was no longer occupied. “Why couldn’t I stop? Why couldn’t I take that thing out?” She asked again, pointing at the pacifier sitting next to the empty bottle. Bella was a bit taken aback by the questions. “Oh my, I’m so sorry, but you seemed so upset, but then you wouldn’t drink from your bottle! I had to get you to somehow, so I may have used a little convenient hypnosis to get the job done. As for the pacifier, same thing! It just makes my job much easier without fussy little ones throwing them all over, and having to get a new clean one!” Hearing what she heard confirmed everything, and she about burst out screaming, but tried to keep calm. “Okay then. Lastly, what the heck is this place, and why am I being treated like a baby?! I’m a Pokémon trainer, this is a Pokémon nursery, why is it all backwards?!” she asked, this time raising her voice a bit more as she went on. Bella thought a bit at the question. “Well, this is a Pokémon nursery, a nursery run by Pokémon! We aim to take care of any and all who come through our door, Pokémon or trainer! And while I must say you are a tad fussier than I imagined for someone who seemed interested using our services, you are just cute as a button!” she said psychically while patting Rina’s diaper, and booping her nose. Rina was starting to get it. “I was interested in the nursery for my Pokémon! I’m an adult, not a baby. I don’t need to be here, I can take care of myself, let me go right now!” she shouted, starting to struggle and try to break free from the large Gardevoir’s arms again. While her physical struggle seemed to have little effect on its own, her words seemed to make the Gardevoir set her down on the floor, and Bella looked to be thinking a little bit at what she said. Now that things seemed to be settling down, she went to free herself from this accursed diaper. Each movement causing a crinkle, a constant reminder of her situation, she couldn’t bear it any longer. She reached down to take it off and…wait how did she take it off? She felt all over, poked and prodded at every inch of the cloud like garment. There were tapes holding it on at the sides, but no zipper, no button, nothing. She pulled at one of the tapes a bit, but something in the back of her head told her that wouldn’t solve the problem, so she stopped without trying. She was speechless, it had to be another part of the hypnosis from when she fell asleep earlier. She went to talk again but was interrupted by the pacifier being placed back into her mouth. “Ah ah ah” she heard in her head with a chiding tone “Don’t try to take that off, we can’t have babies like you having any accidents!” and that was enough to set her off again. She threw her arms down, and puffed her cheeks out in a huff. Rina reached over to a nearby pokeball shaped pillow and grabbed it, before throwing it across the room in a huff. Rina stood up with a wobble, still not used to the bulk between her legs, and tried to look defiant. To just about anyone, this would just look like a toddler having a temper tantrum. “Not babee! Let ee go!” She shouted around the pacifier, stamping her foot on the ground, before feeling a sudden swat on her padded behind by some unseen force. “Hey!” she shouted again, this time looking straight at Bella, who seemed wholly unamused by the display. “Not a baby, huh?” she heard in her head. “After that display young lady, I’m not convinced of that at all! You’re fussy, you aren’t eating properly based on how hungry you were, you throw tantrums instead of talking. No I think you’re exactly where you belong!” The tone of voice in her head instantly made Rina avert her eyes, like a child being scolded. Bella was right to a point, but the whole thing was ludicrous! Next thing she knew however she was being lifted up and placed into the crib again. There she stood, belly full now, trapped yet again. She placed her hands atop the gate, as she watched the Gardevoir take a few steps back. “I’ll go have a chat with the Pokémon you left with us, and we’ll see where we stand. Now you just stay put and think about what I said. If you’re still dry by the time I get back, well then that’s extra big girl points for you!” she heard before seeing Bella head back into the other room and close the door. That was it, she was saved! As soon as she talked with Ribbon, this whole thing would be figured out and she would be on her way! It was just then that she thought about the last thing Bella had said. Still dry? Suddenly she realized just how much formula she drank earlier, and she had a problem. She had to pee. She flopped down on her bottom in the crib, her diaper puffing out a bit and crinkling still with each movement. How long would they be?! What was there to talk about?! If Ribbon had any sense she would just rush out and free her! It was then that the Whimsicott that had apparently been her pillow floated over to her and snuggled against her cheek. She gave it a hug gently, before letting it be whisked away, floating throughout the room. The pressure in her bladder grew, so she stood back up, fidgeting more. She looked around for a clock in the room to gauge how long it had been. Nothing. She tried thinking of other things to distract herself. She needed to go train more with Ribbon, maybe they should go to the wild area tomorrow when this was all over! She could also use a few more good team mates to deal with a few gyms she had yet to win against, yeah, that seemed like a good plan! She glanced over at the changing table again, paying more attention. How had she not put two and two together as soon as she stepped into this place? It was all so obvious in hindsight! Was it their goal to just trick trainers into coming here? Was it malicious? It didn’t seem so, just...silly. She looked down at the Trubbish next to the waste bin, before putting two and two together and feeling disgusted, realizing that it was the diaper pail, and the trash this Trubbish was made from was just diapers. Efficient at least, but. Gross, and not something she planned on contributing to. She kept trying to think of other things, the pressure growing the whole time. How long had it been? 5 minutes? 20? It felt like basically an hour! Until suddenly she couldn’t take it anymore. “Huwwy up!” she shouted out from behind the pacifier, while doing the potty dance to keep any last bit of dignity she had. At long last the door opened up, Bella walking out with Rina’s Sylveon in tow. “Tank oo! Come thave me!” sounding infinitely more childish than she meant, but it got the point across. But Ribbon didn’t move. Not in the sort of disobeying her trainer, sticking its nose up at you in battle and ignoring commands sort of way. Instead, it just stared at Rina with bright cheery eyes, and let out an enthusiastic “Vee! Vee!”. Rina couldn’t believe it. What had that Gardevoir done to it? It looked totally normal! Not hypnotized, not hurt, what was going on?! She began to hear in her head “Sorry for taking so long! We were having such a lovely discussion that we seemed to lose track of time. It’s okay though! Your lovely Sylveon wholly understood I was coming from a place of love and care and couldn’t agree more! You push the two of you so hard, you need a nice bit of pampering, and a bit of a reset! Ribbon here even agreed to help out, and who can blame them! You’re picture perfect adorable!” Ribbon just nodded while Bella said all of this, and Rina couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She glared at her Pokémon, and just whispered “twaitor” around her paci at the mention of Ribbon wanting to help. Then the voice came again “And look at you! Still dry even after all of that! I must say I’m surprised! For one as little as yourself, maybe you’ll be graduating to pullups sooner than I expected!”. That one sentence was enough to bring Rina’s attention back to the matter at hand. The revelation she wasn’t getting out of here anytime soon, combined with the growing urgency to relieve herself was too much. At first a trickle, and then like a flood, a loud hiss broke the silence in the room, followed by an “Oh. Maybe I spoke too soon!” from within from Bella. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She reached her hand beneath her skirt, she pressed her legs together, anything to try and stop it, but nothing mattered. The flow remained torrential despite her efforts. She felt the warmth spread around, making the diaper swell and expand, eventually forcing her legs apart. Bella watched on in excited glee, while Ribbon held a paw up to her mouth, stifling a giggle. She thought the thing would burst or leak, something, at any moment, but it didn’t! It just kept filling and filling, until at long last, it was over, and she was done.

Prologue: A small group of four students was hiking in the forest. Diane, Daniel, Tessie and Thomas liked hiking, they often went on tours and they managed to sweep the entire surroundings of their town. However today Tessie stopped and stared at a manor on the nearby hill. “Hey, guys. Look at the manor; if I’m right, there were ruins last year there.” “Right, there is a ruin sign on my map,” Daniel fetched a map from his backpack and looked at it. “Let’s have a closer look at the manor,” Diane wasn’t able to resist the temptation; she was quite a curious girl. Her companions nodded and they headed towards the mysterious manor. The building looked well maintained as if it had been built the day before. “I don’t know; something is wrong with this manor. Maybe it is a bad premonition only but I’d advise to turn away and leave as quickly as possible,” Tessie turned to her boyfriend Thomas but he shook his head. “Don’t be a coward, love. What can happen in a manor. We aren’t in a B class horror movie though.” “Okay then, let’s go in,” she nodded and stepped forward. Daniel opened the massive gate and entered the large hall. He looked around and stopped dead in his track. The hall was clean and equipped like one in a museum or gallery. The walls were framed by numerous pictures. There were three doors on the back wall and a small stand on his right. “Welcome in our special manor. Come closer please,” an old lady was sitting behind the counter. “Is this a museum, madam?” Diane turned to the lady. “Not exactly, my dear,” the lady replied. “Have a look at the pictures in the front hall. It is free and you can have a tour if you are interested then.” “Thanks madam,” Diane smiled at the lady and stepped forward when she felt a pressure in her bladder. “Excuse me,” she headed towards the door marked by the familiar toilet sign. When she emerged from the toilet, the group walked over to the left side wall to start watching the pictures. Although the pictures were artworks, they weren’t too interesting. There were portraits and landscapes hanging on the walls. The group passed the entire hall and Diane almost headed toward the exit. She didn’t understand the words “special manor” when she looked back and spotted a portrait they had passed earlier. “Hey guys, do I see right? A lady was depicted in that picture before,” she pointed at a picture on the back wall.” To her utter surprise a small toddler girl was depicted in the same picture. Daniel, Tessie and Thomas looked back and they started in utter surprise at the portrait. All of sudden the toddler girl in the picture changed back into the lady. “Madam, could you explain what happened?” Daniel turned to the old lady. “Of course, young man,” she smiled and continued, “picture change and people change, too.” At the same moment she disappeared in a fog and seconds later a small girl about three year old was standing in front of them. “Follow me please if you are interested,” she stood up and headed towards a door on the back wall and opened it. “Hey guys, I’m getting worried,” Tessie protested again but she caught the gaze of Thomas and got silent. They followed the small girl and entered the door. They found themselves in a small corridor leading to the right. There was a label on the opposite wall. “WELCOME IN THE TODDLER MANOR. ENJOY YOUR STAY AND THE CARELESS TODDLER LIFE. THERE IS NO WAY BACK!” The door behind them closed. When Tessie looked back, she realized there was no handle on the door. [If you are interested in an interactive version of this story, feel free to play my small video game] Part 1: A cold chill ran down Tessie’s spine. She wasn’t very courageous at all and got quite nervous. “Hey, guys; I warned you. What will we do now?” “Calm down, love. Consider it a new adventure. Haven’t you read some comics? Imagine that we are about to be inside that comic.” Thomas smiled at her. More than worried, he was curious and so was Diane. “Let’s continue,” she turned to the rest of the group and stepped forward. However she stopped and rubbed her eyes. The end of the corridor was obscured by a strange fog. Nevertheless, they didn’t have any option left but to head towards the fog. “What is it?” Daniel also got a bit nervous but still not worried,”hopefully it doesn’t hurt us.” He almost pushed Diane forwards but it wouldn’t be a gentleman’s behavior. Instead, he courageously walked directly into the fog. Diane didn’t hesitate and followed him. Thomas shrugged only and stepped forward, holding Tessie at hand to encourage her. The fog wasn’t thick at all; it looked like a thin wall. However Daniel stopped dead in his tracks behind it. The corridor grew suddenly and it seemed to be more than ten feet high. Daniel looked back and spotted a small toddler following him. “Diane, it you?” he was shocked by his speech. “Of couwse. Hey, you are a wittwe boy. Why the corridor dat big?” Diane looked around in utter shock. She almost laughed when she spotted Daniel but she realized she was little too. “Danny, you diapee,” she noticed the bulge in his pants but she reached down and felt the same bulge. She was wearing a toddler girl dress and thick tights. Tessie and Thomas emerged from the fog and they also stopped and looked at Diane and Daniel. “Hey, what you …?” Thomas looked at Diane and Daniel. He still was holding Tessie at hand and turned his head; he spotted a cute little girl. “Me little giwl,” Tessie announced innocently and smiled at her friends. Her fear and worries disappeared. The four former students were watching each other for awhile. They recognized each other but some parts of their minds looked like they were switched off. Their speech changed into a preschooler’s one and they soon found out about more limitations. Tessie’s bladder was full when they entered the manor but she didn’t use the toilet then. Now the urge was strong and her bladder muscles responded instantly; they relaxed and a stream of pee soaked her diaper. “Me wet,” she announced as innocently as before and didn’t care about it. Suddenly Diane realized that they should continue. There was another door in front of them and Diane opened it; however she hardly reached the handle. As they passed the door, it closed and there was no handle on the other side. The group found itself in a long corridor with doors on both sides. There were labels next to the doors and Daniel tried to read them: “Me … not … read,” he was a bit taken aback but he didn’t care, just like a real toddler would do. He didn’t hesitate and opened the first door on his left. He spotted a large library. An older lady was sitting behind a counter and she stopped him immediately: “Hey, what do you want here? This is a library. Can you read?” Daniel shook his head, stepped back and closed the door. He opened the next door and spotted a storeroom. The shelves on the back wall were stocked by food, drinks and diapers. The next room was a surprise. It was a large hall. There were tables and chests along the walls and a lot of different items spread on the floor and on the tables. Diane was quite curious and tried to open some chests. They were either locked or empty. “Me … afwaid,” Tessie suddenly got an unpleasant feeling and hurried up back to the door. The rest of the group followed her and they opened another door on the opposite wall. “Welcome to the Toddler Manor,” a little girl was standing near the door. “What … toddlew mano?” Thomas was surprised and stared at the girl. “Who you?” “I am Susie and this is Eric,” the girl pointed at a small boy. “You are new here, isn’t you?” “Yeah, we … new,” Diane nodded. “If you need a diaper change, go to the nurse over there,” Susan pointed at another door on their right. “You find food, drinks and diapers in the storeroom across the corridor.” “Danks,” Tessie smiled at Susie. Daniel also smiled at Susan and Eric. He somehow liked the place but deep in his mind he felt that something was wrong. They were new here but how did they get into the manor? His thoughts were interrupted by a pressure in his bladder. He instinctively relaxed the muscles and flooded his diaper. However he ignored it for that moment and turned to Eric. “How … we ... get. How … we … leave?” “Go to the library and you find everything there.” “We … not … read.” “Go to the challenge room and get the smart elixir. You will learn reading and proper speech.” “Challe … challe?” Daniel was confused. He didn’t understand the strange word. “The large hall across the corridor. Search the chests but be careful. There could be surprises inside.” Daniel nodded and headed towards the door and his mates followed him. They entered the challenge room and started a thorough search. They found more chests than before. It was a big surprise; did they appear out of nowhere? Unfortunately, Eric was right when he warned them. As Diane opened a chest, it was empty and a loud scary howl echoed in the room. Diane stepped back in utter shock. She suddenly felt a stream of pee hitting the front of her diaper and a mass of poop filling its back. “Me … pee,” Tessie announced in another accident. “We … must … find … elixiw,” Diane calmed down and continued searching. After two more attempts she opened a chest and pulled out a vial. “Me … elixir …,” she drank up half of the vial and passed it to Daniel. Daniel finished the vial. “Diane, what happened?” his speech improved instantly. “I don’t know. Give me the vial please,” Diane took the vial and read the label: “SMART ELIXIR. 2 doses.” “Wow, I can read again.” “Elixiw … me?” Tessie looked at Diane. “Wait,” Diane reached and pulled out another vial. Tessie drank a half of it and passed it to Thomas. “Wow, I can speak normally,” Tessie smiled at Thomas, “What about you, Thomas?” “Yeah, it works but I still can’t believe it. Where the hell are we?” “Let’s hurry up to the library now,” Diane replied, “we’ll find some information there.” She stepped forward when she realized her diaper, “We have to go to the nursery first and get diaper changes.” “Do we really need them?” Thomas objected but he felt a stream of pee between his legs. “Oh no. I can speak normally but I’ve just peed in my diaper.” The nurse was a lovely older lady, “Welcome, my littles. Let’s change these soiled diapers,” she pointed at a changing table. Diane jumped up onto the table first and spread her legs. “Well, you know what to do,” the lady smiled at Diane and pulled down her tights. Tessie, Daniel and Thomas also jumped onto the table, one by one, and the nurse changed their diapers. As the nurse finished, Daniel stepped forward, “I can’t wait to read the books in the library.”

Maddie Wilson is a regression therapist and helps adults who want to become babies again. She starts seeing one patient who would like to become a baby.

Ally is twenty five years old and became a secret baby as a teenager but is now ready to come out into the public. She starts by having accidents in public places and hopes that someone will step up and take care of her as a baby. She puts a ad online advertising for a caregiver.

I'm finding it SO MUCH easier to get into Little space the older I get. It's gotten to the point where I genuinely feel wittle more and more an day at a time now! Has anyone else NOTICED this over time?!???????☺️??♥️?????♥️???? I'm also finding my desire for Diapers, baby bottles, baby wipes, baby powder, rattles, pacifiers, and baby clothes gradually increasing too!??????♥️???♥️?♥️?????????

After being a secret adult baby Jennifer decides to put a ad online to be someones baby who will take care of her.

Prologue: “Mirjam Hellberg, you have been convicted of witchcraft and sentenced to death by burning,” the voice of the Head Inquisitor sounded around the crowded place in Uddevalla. The crowd roared in agreement. “Burn her … she is a witch … burn her.” The executioner's assistant was approaching the bonfire and holding a burning torch in his hand. A young girl was tied up to a stake in the middle of the bonfire and the Head Inquisitor was holding a crucifix in front of her face. “Admit your guilt and the Lord will save your soul from eternal damnation!” the Head Inquisitor continued. Mirjam didn’t say anything. She wasn’t aware of any witchcraft and she hardly was able to speak at all. Her body was badly hurt after all the torture she had to undergo. Although she never talked about witchcraft, the Inquisitor twisted her words. Now she was about to be burnt at stake in front of a cheering crowd. All she was able to do was shake her head. “You are stubborn and you will be swallowed by the deepest hell. Set off the fire!” The executioner’s assistant put the torch to the bonfire and the flames were approaching the poor girl. Mirjam was a religious girl and she didn’t understand why she was charged with witchcraft. She became an innocent victim of an evil plot but she couldn’t know it. She refused any charges and she started praying silently before the flames swallowed her body. ‘My Lord, help me please. I’m no witch and I always was your loyal servant. I don’t want to suffer anymore.’ To her utter surprise she heard a silent voice in her mind. ‘Mirjam, child, I know that you are an innocent victim and I will provide you a second chance to live. Even more, you get a gift from me.’ ‘Thank you, my Lord. You are that generous,” Mirjam answered silently. ‘You have been charged with witchcraft and you are not a witch. You will get actual witchcraft powers in your second life but promise me not to abuse those powers.’ ‘Oh no please. Won’t I be burnt at stake again?’ ‘No, Mirjam. You will spend your second life in another time when witches won’t be burnt at stake. Anyway, be careful.’ ‘I’m not sure, my Lord.’ ‘Don’t be afraid and trust me. The witchcraft powers aren’t bad as long as you don’t abuse them.’ ‘I promise, my Lord.’ a tear appeared in her eye. ‘See you in your second life, daughter.’ At that moment Mirjam passed out and she didn’t have to suffer the burning anymore. The crowd was disappointed when they didn’t hear any screams of pain. An hour later the fire went off and the remnants of Mirjam’s body were thrown into a nearby river. Part 1: Mirjam wasn’t able to understand where she was. There was darkness all around and she could hear a heartbeat nearby. She was squeezed into a small place and she hardly could move. Minutes later she realized something strange; she was not breathing. How was it possible? Everyone had to breathe to stay alive. All of sudden she realized the heartbeat; it was not hers. “How is my little girl doing?” A female voice sounded nearby but Mirjam heard it in a strange way as if it was coming from inside. She was a clever girl and put two and two together. The only option was that she was an unborn baby inside her new mother’s body. The place around her was a womb. Mirjam didn’t know about the human body but she had seen pregnant women and guessed what was going on. This was her new life and she had to start it from the very beginning. ‘My Lord, is this my new life?’ She decided to ask God first. ‘Yeah, my child. Get prepared to live in another and unknown world. You skipped 300 years and you are about to become the third child in a loving family. Don’t worry and enjoy it.’ ‘What about the gift, my Lord? I’m a bit afraid.’ ‘Don’t be afraid. You can read thoughts, talk without opening your mouth and you can move some items. None of this should be dangerous.’ ‘Thank you, my Lord.’ Mirjam suddenly got curious about the new life. What changed in 300 years? How will her new family accept her and her new powers? She also didn’t know how much time was left until labor. “Hey, Gudrun, do you have a name for our baby? You have been thinking of it for two months already,” a man’s voice sounded from outside. “Olaf, I can’t decide and I even don’t know if it is a boy or a girl.” All of sudden Mirjam didn’t resist the temptation and decided to try out her new powers. ‘A girl,’ she told her mom silently. ‘Mirjam.’ Gudrun was taken aback by the voice in her mind. What should it mean? She never heard voices before. Was it possible or was she getting insane? She startled but she continued instantly. “It is a girl and I have a wonderful name for her, Mirjam.” “Mirjam is a wonderful name but how do you know the gender? You didn’t want to know it though when you were at the ultrasonic exam.” “I know it. Trust me.” Gudrun suddenly was sure but she didn’t know why. Although the voice was strange, she didn’t worry. Mirjam was taken aback by the unknown words. What was an ultrasonic exam? She didn’t have the slightest idea and she was getting curious and wanted to learn more. However, who could tell her about it? “Mommy, mommy; will I have a sister?” an excited childish voice sounded from outside and Mirjam smiled. It definitely was a little girl. “Yeah, Kirsten; you’ll get a baby sister soon.” “Can I listen to her, mommy?” “Of course, my little one.” Mirjam felt a pressure from outside and she realized that something pressed against her mom’s belly; it was Kirsten’s head probably. Mirjam was amused by the little girl and she almost talked to her but it wasn’t a good idea. Instead, Mirjam moved her leg and pressed against the head from inside. “Mommy, she kicked me,” Kirsten laughed. “Babies sometimes do it, Kirsten,” Gudrun’s voice sounded amused. Meanwhile Mirjam felt an urge to pee. She got worried; how could she pee in her present condition inside her mother’s body? However, she didn’t have any option left but to relax the muscles. Just like every unborn baby, she peed into the amniotic fluid and wasn’t aware of it. The little girl ran away and Gudrun was alone. She started thinking of the mysterious voice. Was she getting insane? She lied down on the couch and collected her courage. She wanted to ask the mysterious voice but Mirjam was quicker. ‘Mommy, you are not getting insane,' the voice sounded in her mind. ‘How do you know about it? Who are you?’ Gudrun asked the voice silently. ‘Who? I am Mirjam, your daughter.’ ‘What does it mean? How can we talk?’ ‘I prayed to our Lord and He was generous and provided me with this gift. Sorry but I read your worries about getting insane.’ Gudrun was a religious woman and she was willing to believe in miracles; however she never experienced an actual miracle. 'Is it a miracle?’ ‘I don’t know, mom.’ ‘Mirjam, you sound like an adult,’ Gudrun suddenly realized that the baby inside her had an adult mind. How should an unborn baby know about God and miracles? ‘Mom, it is a bit complicated; could you accept me like a smart baby and not ask about my past?’ ‘Past? Did you reincarnate?’ ‘Yeah but don’t ask me more please.’ ‘Okay, you will be my beloved baby.’ ‘Thanks, mom. When will I be born?’ ‘In two weeks I think.’ ‘I can’t wait to see you, mom.’ ‘I’m looking forward to seeing you as well, my little one.’ Gudrun relaxed and her eyes closed. In her dreams she saw little Mirjam talking with her and a smile appeared on her lips. While she was napping, the little Kirsten sneaked to her and put her head on her belly: “Sis, do you hear me?” Kirsten whispered so Gudrun couldn’t hear her. ‘Yeah, I do.’ ‘How can I hear you? Is it magic?’ Kirsten talked silently in her mind. She didn’t whisper anymore. ‘Yeah, it is magic,’ Mirjam replied. She realized that Kirsten was a little girl and she believed in fairy tales. Magic would be an acceptable explanation. ‘Will we talk more when you are born? It will be a fairy tale.’ ‘I will talk with you as much as you want. I’m your sister though.’ ‘Will we play?’ ‘Wait. I can’t play with you too much while I am a little baby. When I grow up, we can play together.’ ‘I love you sis.’ ‘I love you too,’ Mirjam was emotional; her new life seemed to be much better than the previous one; however she was worried about the changes in her new world. Kirsten’s eyes closed and she dozed off with her head sitting on Gudrun’s belly. Mirjam also was tired and she fell asleep.

Hi everyone, So I've been a lurker for years. Reading your stories, a little jealous sometimes at certain scenarios. I love writing but never had the courage to write ABDL stories. Today I just felt like trying and made my own account to publish. English is not my native language, constructive criticism and ideas are always welcome. If you guys like it, I will definitely continue. Nina ":) ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Intro The sun was finding it's way through the half open blinds, small beams of light peaking through on the early Monday morning. The first sign of hopefully good weather today, not that they wouldn't go out if there was chance of rain but for an outside activity it surely was a plus. The bedroom was quiet, except for the soft snoring of a young man. Next to his sleeping form was a woman, just a few years his senior. She had been awake for several minutes already but hadn't moved yet, she was content with just looking at her sweet for now. He had cradled himself against her, the head full of dark brown curls nestled against the woman's bosom and his hand holding onto the fabric of the pink nighty she was wearing. The other one held a grip onto a stuffed red panda, his favourite animal. His light snores wear still heard, but the pacifier in his mouth continued to move up and down every now and then as he suckled. He also was content. This new dynamic had been going on for seven weeks now, they had been together for two and a half. But they had both missed something in it, well, Jessy mostly. A mother. Esmee had always cared for him, right from the start she nurtured him a little more then a girlfriend probably should have. But that's what he needed, someone to tell him what do, make his decisions. It gave him structure, less stress and she was more then happy to see him blossom in life because of that. She was his partner but also his mama now. In the last seven weeks there had been changes, obviously all in agreement. Some he was unsure about, like the bedroom across the hall being turned into his nursery. He liked the big bed, loved snuggling with his Mama as he slept. But there he was all alone with just his panda, so for now they agreed only naps were to be taken in his crib. Diapers on the other hand hadn't been much of a problem. He was naturally a little lazy, so the diapers were introduced as the perfect solution for gaming, no potty breaks needed. Jessy liked his diapers, the infantile underwear felt nice and thick. And his Mama always gave him bum pats when they snuggled, those were the best. With every drop of motherly love Esmee gave Jessy the last seven weeks, he became a different person. He slept better, was less anxious and just in general much happier being her little boy. There was only one thing that he struggled with most, outside. Jessy had no trouble being his Mama's boy inside, but out of the house? What if friends saw him, family? Or if a stranger noticed the bulge of the thick pampers? The thought on it's own made him physically ill. What if they noticed? Esmee understood, but this dynamic they had, she liked it too. More then she was willing to admit and she wasn't just going to 'play house' at the house. So every now and then she would take him with her on errands, just small ones. Dressed in shorts a size too big, a clear white onesie underneath that was snapped closed at the crotch, the tight fabric against his thick diapers and a striped red and white t-shirt to hide it under. They would wander through the grocery store, one that was two towns away from theirs. She would hold his hand, like any mother that wouldn't want their child to wonder off. Jessy would toddle next to her, his legs splayed apart because of the underwear. And he was quiet, with a faint little blush on his cheeks as Esmee walked through the store with him, occasionally patting his crinkling behind, reminding Jessy of his status. And with every small outing the young man had with his Mama, he felt more relaxed. It was only a small routine trip after all, she was there, making sure he was alright and taken care of. On the last trip he even emptied his bladder, right there in the baby isle as Mama was getting new wipes. But today would be different, today they were going to the zoo. Jessy was excited to see the red pandas, but the realisation that it was a full day out made him anxious. And when he was anxious, he became a fussy little boy. He didn't listen or cleaned up his toys. To top it all off, Mama made him lunch and he purposely tossed it on the floor. Yesterday evening they were supposed to go out for dinner with friends, the first time in a full week he would be out of diapers and in a pull up. Mama made him wear those just to be sure. But she had canceled it because of his behaviour, told them they couldn't make it. And when Mama announced that, Jessy threw his PlayStation controller on the ground in anger. As it collided against the black tiles, the back came off and the controller glided away to the other side of the living room. Seeing the state of the item he immediately regretted it, more reason because it been a gift. Mama had pulled some serious strings to get it for him when it came out, it was hard to get but she managed and here he was throwing it around. Esmee wasn't going to punish him for his behaviour, she knew what the real source of the behaviour was. Not to mention that the guilt was already written over his face before the controller had come against the ground. His cheeks were now red, glistering of tears in his eyes as he looked up slowly, even Jessy was embarrassed at his own childish tantrum. So she took his hand, deciding that an early bedtime and some extra motherly love was in order. Now here they were the next morning, Jessy cradled against his loving Mama as he dreamed of red pandas with diapers on.

Maddie is a adult baby in secret and misses being taken care of by parents so she decides ti go and post a ad for a couple that will take care of her from now on.

Prologue: The unpleasant and cold wind was blowing through the countryside and leaned to the windows, shabby walls and roofs. The wind driven heavy raindrops kept hitting the windows . It was a gloomy November morning. An old building was hidden in a forest and few people knew about it. A barrier blocked the entrance road and the label next to the barrier discouraged eventual visitors from an attempt to enter the area. If a visitor had the courage and ignored that warning, they would find a high fence with an iron gate, cameras above the gate and the former monastery behind the fence. There was no label on the gate. A card reader and video intercom near the gate were the only ways to get inside or ask for it. The monastery looked abandoned from outside but the security measures didn’t match that image. Most of the windows were grated and all doors were either locked or bricked up. There was another surprise hidden behind the main entrance. The shabby outside look would change into a modern and well equipped mental clinic. However, that clinic was quite different from all other ones. It was the final destination of those who entered it as patients. To be exact; the clients were no patients and they didn’t suffer from any mental disease. The only reason to commit someone to the clinic was an effort to get rid of them for whatever reason. The clinic was private and the fees for keeping a person there were quite high. Despite the high taxes the clinic was profitable and the working conditions of the staff were better than in every other similar mental clinic. There were comfortable rooms for every staff member in the private wing; an everyday commute to work was uncomfortable for most of them and they also were a partially closed community. Unlike the staff, the clients didn’t live in comfortable conditions. They were restrained almost 24 hours a day, diapered and sometimes tormented by the staff. They could spend several hours watching TV or talking together in the common rooms but it was conditioned by good behavior. Otherwise they were strapped down to their beds. The awards for good behavior were rare but the punishments were quite often. The mildest ones were tickling or diuretics. More serious punishments were laxatives, spanking or an isolation room. However the clients were afraid of the ghost chambers in the basement. The basement was a mysterious place and it was full of unknown entities. They looked like translucent black clouds and some people stated they had seen faces with red glaring eyes on those clouds. The entities appeared in different places but there were three rooms in the basement far corner where they appeared regularly and often. The corner probably was near a portal they passed from underground. Those three rooms were called ghost chambers. Nobody knew exactly what happened in the chambers but a night spent there turned the victim into a wreck without their own will. The staff used to show those victims to other clients to warn them. On rare occasions the entities appeared outside the basement. Fortunately the only consequence was fright; however both clients and staff were afraid of those events but nobody found a way to avoid them. Our visitor probably would turn on their heel and run away from that terrible place; it didn’t have an official name but people called it Clinic of Oblivion.

Laura is 30 years old and has just come home from a long day at the office. She decides to go into her inner child and puts on a diaper to relax in.

Greetings! This isn't going to be a long story, a few chapters, less than ten for sure, but I liked the idea and thought maybe someone else would enjoy it too. Let me know what you think and have a great day! Worth A Thousand By: The Unknown Author I “The Box” It took me a good month to work up the ability to start going through my mom’s stuff after she died. Her house became my house and I found myself avoiding anything and everything in it that would trigger another emotional breakdown. I stayed in my childhood bedroom most of the time in that first month, venturing out for food and to shower and use the bathroom, but her room at the end of the hall remained closed off. When I was little the hallway seemed impossibly long, nights when I had a nightmare and sought refuge in her bed were the worst, the fear that the things from my dreams were lurking somewhere in the dark chasm between my room and hers, waiting to grab my leg as I passed by in near full sprint until my feet left the ground to avoid the final pitfall of the space beneath her bed in my journey to her warm and safe embrace. Being back in that house, and my old room in particular, made me feel like that little girl again, nightmares waking me, my still drowsy and sluggish mind recognizing the childish room immediately and putting me right back into my little body, cries for mommy threatening to leap from my mouth just as my spacial awareness kicked in and I slumped back down on the bed, the sheets clinging to my sweaty skin. At least it was sweat at this stage in my life and not the other, far more humiliating reason for dampened sheets that plagued me when I was growing up, the crinkly mattress protector being the first and only thing I’d actually thrown out in the house up to that point. I started the cleaning and purging in my old room, spending the majority of my time there anyway made it easy to get most of it done in short order. I’d sorted everything out into piles, one for donation, one for trash, and one for any little one’s that might want or need old toys or clothes in my extended family. It was more than a little embarrassing to come across so many things from when I was little given that I’d lived in that very room until I graduated high school and went off to college, baby toys in a box on the top shelf of my closet, clothes that seemed ludicrously childish to still be hanging up in a room that a moody teenager had dwelt in last. By the time I’d finished my room, I’d managed to drum up the courage to venture down the hall to my mother’s room, my heart pounding in my chest as my hand curled around the doorknob and turned it, the familiar squeak of the knob protesting its manipulation bringing memories of sneaking in to look for Christmas and birthday presents in her closet when she wasn’t home flooding back into my mind. The room was immaculate, as it always was when I’d lived with her. Her four post bed was made with hospital corners and despite the staleness of the air from being closed off for a month, the lingering scent of her perfume clung to the bedding or the carpet and triggered a fresh breakdown that took more than an hour to recover from. I’d dropped to my knees in anguish, and then onto my side, and lay in more or less a fetal position rocking and sobbing until I was hoarse and exhausted and weakly slunk back to my room in defeat. The following day I’d managed to make it to her dressing table, the oak behemoth had always been of particular fascination to me growing up, lectures after making a mess by playing with her makeup were fairly common until I learned my lesson and watched her doing her makeup rather than sneaking in to try and do my own. Another defeat came when I remembered sitting on her lap while she did my makeup to teach me how things should work so I didn’t look like the four year old I was had drawn on my face with lipstick and blush. Every day for a month I managed to stay in her room for a little longer. The triggers were numerous, landmines of memory that blew up in my face over completely innocuous things to the untrained eye, but deeply personal moments in time preserved like a mosquito in amber waiting for me to come along and find them so I’d destroy what little emotional stability I had and send me scurrying back to my room to hide like a scared rabbit until the next day when I could do it all over again. When I finally managed to stay in her room for a full day with little more than a few tears and a sniffle or two, I set about packing up her things for donation, the closet was first and all the clothes filled a dozen boxes. With the closet devoid of clothes I found only one thing remaining, a wooden box on the highest shelf, the one where the presents would hide when I was little. I thought maybe it was a forgotten present, something she’d misplaced and never recovered, thoughts of some toy meant for toddler me or something for gawky middle school me to fell embarrassed about receiving filling my mind as I pulled it down and took it to the bed. The box was gorgeous, carved from some dark wood with ornate, shiny patterns of some kind of stone or other material adorning the top of it. The front had a small circular silver plate and a little cover that slid aside to reveal a keyhole. My heart sank when I saw the keyhole and tried with no success to open the box, but as I lifted it to see if there was some kind of button or switch that might be the real means of opening it, I saw a white envelope taped to the bottom of the box with my name written in my mother’s lovely, fluid cursive. I pulled the envelope off and opened it to find a letter and a small key within, my heart beginning to race as I opened the letter. “My darling Madeline, If you’re reading this, then I’m sadly gone. I wanted so desperately to share the contents of this box with you over the years, but never found the courage to do so. Many people in my life, friends and family included, think they knew who I was, but the evidence of the woman I truly was lies within this box. I know that nothing will make sense at first when you open it, which I hope you will, but, if you’re anything like me, the intrigue and adventure of an honest to goodness mystery to piece together will be too much to resist. Should you decide to open the box, I urge you to keep an open mind and remember that despite being your mother for however long I lived, I was a woman before you were born and I had a life and many truly wonderful experiences, but you became my life and I put myself aside to give you the best life I could and nothing in the world would ever compare to the joy I felt at being your mother. All my love, forever and always, Mom P.S. I truly am sorry I’m not around to provide context, but I hope you’ll understand that I see more than a little of myself in you and I have a gut feeling that you’ll see it too when all is said and done.” It was another month before I managed to venture back into her room to pick up the box, the rest of the house had been cleaned up and boxed up and thrown out where appropriate, and with nothing else to focus my attention on, the box became my obsession. On the one hand, I was terrified that I’d find out my mother was a serial killer or something, the box full of trophies from her victims that she was bequeathing to me because I too was a killer, but on the other hand I was curious to learn more about the woman she’d been before I was born. She had a photo album in the living room, pictures of her as a little girl and up to high school, but then it bled into photos of her holding me in the hospital when I was born and then nothing but me at the various stages of my life. By my rudimentary math, the box could have as many as fifteen years worth of information about her that I had no knowledge of, and that was the carrot that drove me to pick the box back up and take it back to my room. I slid the small metal cove aside and inserted the key, twisting it until the lock clicked and then I sat and stared at the still closed but now unlocked box for the better part of an hour before I finally lifted the lid. A photograph on top of a small stack of Manila envelopes greeted me, my mother, freshly graduated from high school judging by how young she looked, stood in front of a Volkswagen van holding up two fingers and smiling like someone had just told her the funniest joke, her eyes were closed and her mouth was partly open in a wide grin. She was wearing a peasant top, thin enough to reveal she wasn’t a fan of bras and skin tight jeans. Her hair was held out of her face by a hairband of some sort that looked like a wreath of white flowers had been slipped onto her head and I realized with great embarrassment for both of us that my mother had been a hippy. Each Manila envelope beneath the photo was thin, not containing anything more than a document, and each with a date written on the front, a half dozen in total ranging from the year she’d graduated high school to just before I was born. Atop the stack was a yellow sticky note that simply read “Keep an open mind”. I peeled the sticky note off and set it aside, my mouth dry as I picked up the envelope marked in my mother’s handwriting “James 1/17/71, Oakland, CA” and opened the folded metal arms on the back of the envelope to allow me to open it, pulling out a few piece of paper and a small collection of photographs. Setting the photos down on the bed, I read the first paper, finding it to be a diary or journal entry of some kind. “Stopped into a furniture store to take a break from walking all day and met James. Thinking I was in the market for the bed I’d flopped down on, he approached me with all the charm and charisma you’d expect from a young man working on commission. I could tell he wasn’t a total square though, despite the ugly tie and cheap suit he was wearing. I took his picture and he was curious why “anyone as beautiful as me would want a picture of him” and I told him that he was very handsome and that pictures showed us as we truly were, not as we or anyone else perceives us. We talked for longer than his boss deemed acceptable and James was told to escort me out, which he did, but said if I was interested, I could come back after the store closed that night so we could continue talking.” I sat in stunned silence as I read my mother’s diary page, wondering how the woman that taught me everything I knew about life and stranger danger could even consider taking “James” up on his offer, then I remembered her insistence that I keep an open mind and I pressed on with the next page. “Went back to meet James when the furniture store closed, he’d ditched the tie and jacket and had some cold beers waiting for me when I arrived. We sat at one of the dining room tables on the show floor, it was funny because the rest of the lights in the store were off except for a few lamps here and there, and if I focused on him, it felt like I was in his home rather than a store. We talked a lot about his job and my trip and then he turned the music on on the store speakers and we danced and it was so much fun.” I smiled as I read, imagining my mother having an admittedly very sweet encounter, possibly even date, with this James guy and moved on to the next page of her diary. “We danced for a while and drank some more, and James started to dance a little closer and touch me a little more and-” I sighed and closed my eyes as I pointed my head to my ceiling, mentally shutting off the urges to discontinue reading this saga and shut the box forever at the thought of reading about my mother having sex with a random furniture salesman in Oakland. I opened my eyes slowly and looked down at the papers in my hand and swallowed hard as I kept reading. “we ended up dancing near a bedroom display. There was a queen bed and a lemon yellow crib, and as we danced we neared the little yellow crib until I had nowhere else to move and sat down on the mattress of it as he kissed me. When our kiss ended he asked me if “I was a good little girl” and the question made me blush and gave me this weird tingle up my back, the beer we’d been drinking making me giggly before I corrected him that I wasn’t a little girl.” I shuddered involuntarily as I read. “He pointed out that I was sitting on a crib and that it was night time and those things couldn’t be a coincidence, so I must be a little girl, or maybe a baby. I blushed more at his insistence and of the quick demotion from little girl to baby, but looking up at him from my seat on the edge of the crib made me reluctant to argue a second time, making me chew my bottom lip as the tingle I’d felt earlier went lower in my body and built to a persistent hum between my thighs.” I was reading my mother’s erotic fan fiction, I suddenly realized, hating that I was doing so but despising my inability to stop reading despite all the alarm bells going off in my head about how expensive the therapy bill for continuing to do so would be. “His strong hand took mine and he gently curled my fingers into a fist and extended my thumb outward before her guided it to my lips, his smile when my lips parted and allowed my thumb to enter making the hum stronger. He stood before me looking down and I felt so small sitting on the mattress of that baby’s crib sucking my thumb, but he knelt down and placed his hands on my thighs, “Daddy thinks it’s time for baby to get ready for bed.” he said, enhancing my blush and the hum between my thighs to heights I’d never experienced before.” “Why am I still reading this?” my brain screamed at me, but something else was far more concerning to me, the tingling I was feeling running up my own back, the soft hum that was building between my own thighs, this was disgusting and kind of incestuous, but it was turning me on for some insane reason and I didn’t want to stop reading it. “I was surprised when he left me sitting there, thumb in my mouth, wanting him to come back and fix the feelings I was having for him, to take me to the adult bed and do adult things with me, but as I sucked my thumb and gently rubbed myself through my jeans, I also felt like I was right where I should be, obediently waiting for “Daddy” to come back to his baby. When he finally did return he set the things he was carrying down on the big bed and came to me and picked me up as though I weighed nothing to him, my legs wrapped around his waist on instinct and I hugged him tightly with my free arm as I continued sucking my thumb with the other so I didn’t upset him for removing what he’d so gently put into my mouth.” I wasn’t completely ignorant to what was seemingly about to happen to my mother, I grew up when the internet was a wild west landscape of everything under the sun being available at the click of a mouse without parental controls or paywalls being in place, and while I couldn’t remember specifically where or when or how I’d come across it, adult’s playing baby wasn’t something that was unheard of to me. “He lay me down so gently on the big bed, putting me on my back to look up at him as he knelt and slipped my shoes and socks off, peeking at me over my stomach as he reached up and unbuttoned my jeans, slowly peeling them off of me, his face looking like he was waiting for me to stop him, but also proud that I was still sucking my thumb and allowing him to continue. Once my panties were gone, he slipped my shirt off and left me naked on the bed, admiring my body for a moment before he picked up the stack of towels beside me and lifted my legs to slide them beneath me, bringing them up between my legs before he pinned them into place with the safety pins he’d been holding in his mouth when he picked up the towels.” I had to stop reading and take a minute to compose myself, the notion that my mother, the woman that enforced bedtimes and curfews and groundings over the course of my life, had allowed herself to be diapered by a total stranger in a very public place was mind boggling to me, and my intense arousal was more than a little shameful and concerning. I went to the bathroom, noticed the quarter sized damp spot in the center of my gray panties and felt disgusted with myself for having already decided to go back and finish the story, pretending that I wasn’t going to pleasure myself to what I was reading, that my mother wasn’t going to change into myself as I imagined some boy I had a crush on doing those things to me. “Once the diapers were pinned in place, James checked the fit and picked me up once more to take me back to the crib, setting me down and then guiding me to lay on my back, legs pulled up to my chest but parted before he raised the side and hurried away, returning with my camera and snapping a photo of me.” My cheeks burned at the knowledge that somewhere in the envelope these pages had come from there quite probably was a photo of my barely legal mother in a baby’s crib and some form of a cloth diaper as she sucked her thumb and my hands trembled as I began the final page of her diary. “It only took a few gentle “make a pee pee for Daddy” and “good baby’s wet their diapers” for me to let go and flood the towels pinned around my waist, my inebriated bladder more than willing to let go, James’ fingers gently rubbing the warm, wet padding when I’d finished, bringing squeals of pleasure and bliss in little bursts around my thumb as I sucked on it with my eyes closed until another wetness filled the diaper. He snapped a final picture before he lowered the side of the crib and knelt beside it, stroking my hair and praising me before he removed my thumb from my mouth and stood to unzip his pants and pull out his manhood, teasing it against my lips as he’d done with my thumb, the final results much the same.” I set the last page down beside me in the neat, orderly stack with the others and picked up James’ envelope with trembling hands, sliding the black and white photo’s out in a neat stack in my hand, looking at James for the first time, was clean cut and clean shaven, barely older than my mother, his tie was ugly, looking like a cheap motel rug, the kind of thing that someone with zero taste would assume would brighten an area simply by existing, not noticing the off putting patterns lack of cohesiveness. He was stronger looking than I imagined, maybe a football player or a wrestler in school given his thick forearms and the obvious biceps trapped beneath the long sleeves of his button up collared shirt. The next photo was of my mother, naked save for the thick towels pinned around her waist. She had a gorgeous body, fit and slender, curving in all the right places, her thumb in her mouth, that arm covering one bare breast while the other lay at her side. The sides of the crib were narrow, leaving barely enough room for her to lay on her back within it, but her legs were pulled up so her knees were near her stomach, and true to her description, her legs were partially spread to allow clear visibility of the diaper she was wearing. It was thicker than I’d imagined it would be based on her description, images of bath towels I’d conjured banished away by something more akin to the thickness of a bath towel folded up on a shelf, the pins securing it seeming to shimmer in whatever light source they’d been picking up. Setting that picture aside I came to the next, my mother in the same position as the previous photo, but with a wet diaper, though the photo didn’t clearly illustrate that thanks to the black and white medium, but based on her description I found myself studying her crotch intently for a moment to check, blushing when I remembered who the woman in the photo was and setting it aside. The last picture made me smile involuntarily, my mother curled up on James’ lap on the queen sized bed, her head rested against his chest, eyes closed and thumb still in her mouth, but the faintest curl of a smile in the corner of her mouth. James was smiling, his strong arm holding her to him behind her back, his hand resting on the seat of her diaper while his other hand rested on her knee. They looked incredibly happy together, beyond the happiness of having an orgasm, and I found it incredibly sweet that he hadn’t just used her for his kinky game and booted her from the store one he’d gotten what he wanted, but that he’d held her and spent time with her, going so far as to take a photo of the two of them together for her to keep as a reminder of the Daddy she’d had for a night whenever she happened to look back at her old photos. I put the diary pages and photos back in the envelope and set it back in the box, closing and locking it before I took it over to the dresser across the room and put it in the top drawer before returning to the bed. I thought about my mom’s note on the bottom of the box, how it had said that she saw more than a little of herself in me and that she felt I’d see it too. Was she talking about the diapers? The willingness to play baby for someone? I dismissed those thoughts and settled on simply her adventurous nature and desire to meet people and make memories with them. The ache of neglect in my intimate areas made it harder to accept those notions however, the thought that not long ago I too was in a diaper in this very bed making my fingers disappear beneath the blankets to explore the other possibility, however unlikely I hoped it would prove. To Be Continued…

Hi folks! I have posted my stuff on other sites, notably Reddit and Wattpad. Someone recently encouraged me to post here, and I thought I would give this community a try. I have a fair backlog of stories, but I won't be posting them all at once on here. That seems spammy and rude. Plus, I think it's fun to have regular content to look forward to. For the medium-term, I'll be posting one chapter of a story a week on here, starting with my short novel "Baby Briana". It has twenty six chapters, so we'll be a while on that one. I hope you enjoy! Please feel free to comment, ask questions, and otherwise talk to me in this thread. I don't know how often I will be checking my inbox here, as I already have a lot of inboxes, so my story threads are probably the best place to talk to me. Content Warnings: NSFW content including sex scenes. Spanking and discipline. Consent is not explicitly spelled out; a person acting as a child is considered to be giving implicit consent to be treated as one. Without further ado: Chapter 1 of Baby Briana. Brianna lifted her head and let out a yawn that stretched her jaw. Discomfort made her squirm in the bed. She slid a hand under the covers and immediately teared up. The bed was wet again. She froze in bed, listening and hoping that the house would be silent. No luck. By the sounds of it at least two of her roommates were already awake. The sun blazed through her white daisy curtains; a sign that it was likely they were all awake. For a few minutes she burrowed back into the covers despite the dampness. She wished she could vanish into the bed and disappear. Or better yet, that the stain would. “I don’t know why this is happening!” Briana despaired. “I haven’t wet the bed since I was six. It’s been ten times this month, and it’s happening more and more often.” With a groan she crawled out of bed and stripped off her soaked panties and nightshirt. She was able to scamper to the bathroom to shower without running into anyone. Scraggly red hair greeted her in the mirror. She sighed and tied it up. Haircuts were another thing that weren’t happening. At least the rest of her looked good. A smattering of freckles across a slim body. “Nothing like being poor to keep you trim.” Back in her room she dressed in dry clothes and faced her bed grimly. The comforter was too bulky to launder easily and seemed to be barely damp. She stripped the sheets and wrapped them in her wet bath towel. With the window open and a bit of febreeze on the mattress, she hoped no one would notice. Her feet creaked on the old wooden floors. Normally she loved an old house with tons of character. Now it was a traitor reporting her every move. Since quiet wasn’t an option, she made her way down the stairs quickly to the living room. Her roommate Suzie was there, curled up on the green antique couch. Brianna froze for a moment, but the blonde girl didn’t look up from her phone. Brianna rounded the wall that supported the stairs and opened the basement door. Another flight of creaky stairs and she was on nice quiet concrete. Even better, the washing machine was free. A huge wave of relief washed across Brianna when she set the washer running. Briana checked her bank balance for the hundredth time while she leaned on the kitchen counter. Only a couple hundred dollars left. Her roommates had been generous enough to let her skip the rent. They even let her eat from the groceries they bought. It was a lifesaver, but a guilt-inducing one. The college’s work study wasn’t taking any new student workers mid semester either. “There’s nothing online for jobs.” Briana sighed. “I’m sending out three applications a day but nobody replies.” “Hey, Bri?” Suzie startled Briana out of her thoughts. “Can you come to the living room? We wanted to talk to you about something.” “This is it. They’re kicking me out.” Briana’s mouth went dry, her stomach knotted. She managed a nod but couldn’t speak. Her fears redoubled when she saw her other four roommates sitting in the living room. Suzie led her to the armchair and took a seat on the right-hand couch next to Jane. As a film school student she was the most quirky of the group, short blue hair and a lot of tattoos. When she’d first moved in everyone called her Manic Pixie Dream Girl until it got to be too much. Anything but plain Jane was still in pajamas, her long black hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had striking German features with a resting bitch face that was legendary in the Economics department. Erin and Casey were on the left-hand couch, still dressed for their morning run. The only sporty members of the house, Erin was freckled and burnt, while Casey tended to evenly tan. They always seemed to sit together; Erin was the only one in the house who wouldn’t be dwarfed by Casey’s six and a half feet. Across the coffee table in the other armchair was Veronica, dressed in her usual black house dress. She had a quiet, commanding presence most of the time. At a meeting like this she had the look of royalty. Not condescending, just the assumption that she was in control. She didn’t even need to flex her wealth or Postdoc status to have authority in the house, but they certainly helped. Brianna sat at Veronica’s direction, eyes already brimming with tears. “I think you probably know why we wanted to talk.” Veronica said. “I’m sorry!” Briana burst into tears. “I can have my stuff packed up in a couple of days.” “What? Huh? No!” Several of the girls responded in unison. “Briana, no.” Veronica said with a concerned frown. “Nobody is kicking you out. I’m sorry you thought that’s what this was!” “What then?” Brianna sniffled. “You have been… having to do a lot of laundry lately.” Veronica said. Briana flushed. “That was really kindly worded. Carefully worded. I wonder if she learned that in the counseling program.” “We’re worried about you, and we want to help.” Veronica continued when Briana didn’t seem like she was going to reply. “Help how?” Briana sighed. “I don’t have insurance, or money for a doctor. I can’t ask you to cover me on that too!” “That’s not what we were offering.” Veronica said kindly. “We did get you a couple of things that might help though.” Erin hopped up and grabbed a package from behind the couch. A package of incontinence undergarments. Brianna’s heart sank and her face flamed again. “I uh, I don’t know why it’s happening but I’m not sure that I really need…” She stammered. “I know it’s rough even thinking about wearing those!” Erin said. “So I got you some different ones too.” She placed a second package on the coffee table. This one had bright colors, proudly proclaiming the efficacy of its pullups. “Uh, I’m pretty slim but I don’t think I can fit into pullups.” Brianna said, confused. “They’re adult sized!” Casey chimed in. “I know they look kind of kid-y.” Erin said. “But they’re way prettier than the Depends.” “I don’t think…” Brianna began. “Please think about it.” Veronica said. “Use them until you figure out what’s going on.” “Veronica’s the one covering my rent…” Briana hesitated, “Those things probably weren’t cheap either. This is actually really nice of them, even if it’s embarrassing.” “Um, okay. I’ll try them for at least a couple of days.” Briana said. She blushed and sank back in the chair as the other girls applauded. “We want you to be okay.” Jane said. “We’re here to help you, okay?” Suzie smiled at Briana. “It takes a lot of courage to accept help, especially about something like this.” Veronica said. Briana wiped away tears. Her roommates rose up en masse and helped her out of the chair. Surrounded in warm group hug, Brianna sobbed a couple of times and took a deep rattling breath. “Thanks everybody.” The hug closed tightly around her again. “You’ve all been really nice.” “We’re friends!” Suzie declared. “Just because we’re not a sorority doesn’t mean that I don’t think of you all as my sisters.” Veronica said. “We’ve had this house together for three years.” Brianna nodded, wiping her eyes. Jane helped her carry the supplies up to her room, giving her another hug before she left. Briana put the packages in the far back of her closet and realized there was a third one as well. A plastic mattress cover, that had been sitting under the depends. “I can’t afford to replace my mattress.” Briana thought grimly. She slipped the cover on her mattress and made the bed with new sheets. You couldn’t tell by looking at it, and when she crawled under the covers, the feel wasn’t too bad. “I sure have good friends. I wish I knew why this was happening!”

Im 20 years old and live in the UK, i use 16fr foley catheters to stimulate incontinence and i have done it every weekend for the last year or so, does anyone else use catheters as a way to lose bladder control ? Thoughts on this?.

Hello reader, It has been a long time since I have written a story like this. I really enjoyed my first work, Flooded, but had not had the inspiration (i.e. a Mommy making me wear a plug until I finished my next chapter) in quite some time. So you will have to pardon my rust. This story was not driven but such persuasive influences but rather by a fantasy I had once that got stuck in my head and after several years I finally felt the need to put it down on paper. The following story is set in the Diaper dimension. For those of you not familiar with this setting you might want to read some of the other works out there by various authors to help you better understand the world. Special thanks to WBDaddy who’s story “Little Legal issues” helped inspire this story. I have always been a fan of the Diaper Dimension as it can take mundane things like holding down a job, or going out to eat, or any other aspect of life that might seem commonplace and allow a world of Amazons, Littles and unlimited technology to twist them into an adventure. So that being said, I give you: Divorce Proceedings Chapter 1: Opening Arguments Nicholas sat on the couch waiting. He could have turned on the TV, or surfed the internet, or done anything else to pass the time. But he didn't. He just sat there and waited, stewing in his own anger. He muttered quietly to himself. Going over exactly what he would say. Playing out the conversation in his head over and over and it just made him madder and madder. And then he finally heard what he'd been waiting for. The car pulled up into the driveway and he listened as his wife Angela exited the vehicle and made her way to the front door. This was it Nick thought to himself. He took a deep breath and waited for the door to open. "How was your day honey?" he managed to speak the words in a civil almost sincere tone. "Did you have fun shopping at the mall?" he asked almost unable to contain his delighted smile. "Oh it was terrible sugar," she responded. "I found this super cute dress and shoes but when I went to pay for them the card was declined. We tried calling the bank but they said I'd need to talk to you so I need you to call the bank and get this all cleared up." "Oh there's no need to call the bank," Nick replied his grin now uncontainable. "You see the card was declined because I canceled your credit card." Nick’s wife wheeled around to face him. "You did WHAT?" she demanded her face flush with anger. "I canceled your credit card." Nick said as calmly as he could muster, "oh and I changed the registration on the bank account too." Angela looked shocked, "But why sugar? Why would you do such a thing” she pleaded. "Because that is what you do when you find out your wife has been cheating on you!" Nick roared as he stood up and threw the garments that had been sitting beside him to the floor in front of her. Angela's face went pale as she instantly realized what they were. They were a pair of her panties and a pair of men's boxer shorts. She might have tried to suggest that those belonged to her husband, but in this case the offending underwear clearly belonged to a Betweener and would be much too large for Nick's Little frame. They both stood there in silence. Nick waiting for Angela to come up with some kind of explanation. Some kind of excuse. But the evidence was damning. He had found the boxers under the bed the previous day and after a moment of denial and anger he finally decided that he needed to protect what was his before he confronted his wife. "Is it Scott?" Nick demanded already knowing the answer. Scott was one of only a handful of Betweeners that lived on the small island nation of Freewind. As one of the few places in the world where the Littles got to govern themselves free of Amazon influence it was considered a paradise to Little’s across the globe. Here everyone was treated equally under the law. There were a few Betweener families that dotted about from place to place but an Amazon had not set foot on the island in over 50 years. Nick and Scott had always been close friends. Growing up together, Scott had been Nick's protector. Nothing like having a Tweener in your corner backing you up to get you out of a jam. Scott had been the best man at his and Angela's wedding. The betrayal burned him to his core. Nick would eventually confront him, but right now there were more immediate issues to deal with. Angela looked at Nick with tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry honey," she pleaded. "You have to forgive me!" "Angela, I know our marriage has not been perfect, but I've been willing to work with you on it," Nick said his anger subsiding. "But this? THIS? How am I supposed to get past this?" The anger gone the hurt could now be felt in his words. “I'm sorry Angela, but this is just something I can't forgive. I mean it's Scott! How could you?" "But sweetie, you just have to understand, he's just so.... so..." and with that her demeanor shifted " SO much BIGGER than you." Angela now stood proud and confident while Nick was taken aback by her statement. Angela could see her opening and pounced on the open wound. "And I don’t mean taller Nick. I’m talking about his cock. His big fat manly glorious cock. Sure he's a Tweener, but sweetie, did you really think that you were satisfying me with your little thing?" she continued "because even for a Little honey, you are LITTLE. And his cock, oh it just feels so good. And stamina! He doesn't pop his load off in 30 seconds and then roll off to sleep. I mean even when it's bad with him it is still better than anything I've ever felt with you." Nick tried to hold his ground but the words crushed him. He knew he wasn’t the greatest lover and had always been embarrassed by his hair trigger. Her words were intended to hurt and they did. Deep down he had still hoped that this was just a one time thing, just a slip and that she really still loved him. But now it became clear that was never the case. The fight had left Nick. "Just go. Take the car and go." he said in a small voice. "What about the credit card and the bank account? Half of everything that's yours is mine." she said proud to once again have the upper hand in the conversation. Nick managed a little smile. "No Ang. See, I’ve hired a lawyer and he says my case against you is very strong and that the court system of Freewind does not take kindly to cheating spouses. Especially when that cheating involves a Betweener. You’ll be lucky if they let you keep the car.” A fire reformed in Nicks eyes. "So this is my house and my investments and my money. Your days of spending MY money are over! Done. Finished" Angela stood there a look of realization coming across her face. "Well... we’ll just see what my lawyer has to say." she spat back. "You do that Ang" Nick retorted confident that she did not have a leg to stand on. "Now just go." Angela grabbed her purse and turned to leave in a huff. Opening the door she turned back to face him "Oh and honey, Everyone in the neighborhood has known about Scott and I and that teeny weeny hair trigger of yours for years. They all know what a weak little cuckold you are. So don't think this is over. Not by a long shot." And with that she left. Nick stood frozen still in his spot. He was so angry and hurt and humiliated. He listened as Angela got in the car and pulled out of the driveway. Only then could he relax. In one short day his life had been completely turned upside down. He had lost his wife, his best friend and what looked to be his reputation. How many people already knew he thought. He started replaying scenes in his mind. Did they know? Were they just stifling a giggle, or sharing a knowing glance between themselves when he wasn't looking. How could he look these people in the eyes again? He'd have to move. Where to was another story. Freewind was just not that big a place. It seemed like everyone knew everyone else. He certainly wasn't going to move to the mainland. The last thing he needed was the stress of having to live among Amazons. The house was eerily quiet. Nick tried to have dinner but he wasn't really hungry. He turned to the TV, but there was nothing on the few “safe for littles” channels he got that could hold his attention. Eventually he decided to go to bed. As he drew up the covers he thought about the day to come. There would be lawyers and paperwork. But the thing that really worried him was talking to Scott. I mean he had to do it, but he was not looking forward to the confrontation. Still it was something he had to do if he was to have any amount of self respect left. Nick had always been challenged with insomnia and as he tossed and turned he knew that he would not find sleep anytime soon. Reaching over to the bedside table he took one of his sleeping pills. The swirling thoughts about what tomorrow would bring slowly began to sink into the back of his mind as he feel into a deep sleep blissfully unaware of the sound of the lock to the front door clicking open. Chapter 2: Motion to Dismiss Darkness. "Aren't you done with him yet?" a male voice said as if from far away. "Almost, Keep your pants on." a female responded. "I want this to be perfect." there was a light touch on his cheek. "It don't need to be perfect." the male answered. "They’re going to love him." "They are going to love him because he's going to be perfect." the female spat back. Only this time, the voice seemed familiar. Nick stirred gently. A heavy fog covered his mind. He could hear the voices. Feel hands touching him, manipulating him. He struggled to open his eyes but they were just not ready to obey his orders just yet. "Crap I think he's waking up." the male voice stated. But, Nick knew this voice now too. "OK, just give me a few more seconds and then we can unhook the bag." the familiar female voice said. Nick liked that voice. He had heard it so many times before. As his muddled mind tried to focus a feeling of relief came over him. He knew that voice. It was his wife he thought with a smile. Half a moment later the relief was replaced with panic. His Wife! He stirred again trying desperately to break through the fog. "I still say we should have used a wrangler." the male voice said, sounding even more familiar. "And create a paper trail? I don't think so." Angela responded, "Besides how do we know the wrangler wouldn't try to take me as well. They can't be trusted." "Aw doll you are adorable but I would never let anyone take you.” the male responded only to be followed by a prolonged silence that could have only been there to contain the gaze of death that Angela had to have been giving her companion. Nick knew that gaze well. “Yeah, you're right." said the man. His voice was completely familiar now but what was his name? "And don't you forget it Scott." Angela replied filling in the missing piece. Nick struggled to move but it wasn't just that his limbs were not responding they were also being held. Immobilized. He clenched and unclenched his fists only to find them surrounded by some kind of soft padding that restricted their movement. He moaned a little more loudly and demanded that his eyes open. He was met with a blurry view. It was dim, as tight shafts of bright light shone through small curtain covered windows. A figure hovered before him that was slowly coming into focus. "Well good morning baby," Angela chirped in a sickeningly sweet voice. "Did you have good naps?" "Angela? Was going on?" Nick slurred out. He attempted to move forward only to be pushed back into his seat. "Well, Nicky, after our little talk on Friday, Scott and I had a discussion about our little problem. See, I really want to be with Scott and Scott really wants to be with me, But you see on the other hand we both really want to be with your money too." Nick got a sinking feeling in his stomach. He started to take in his surroundings. First were his hands. They were indeed bound into some kind of padded satin mitten. The pink fabric shimmered a little in the light. He then moved his attention to his legs which were spread far apart on the seat. His attempt to close them met with a thick bulk between his thighs. Nick was fortunate to have never been diapered in his adult life. A fact not many Littles outside of Freewind could claim. But it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that his streak was over and he must be in some of the thickest diapers he could even imagine. The feeling in his stomach worsened as he once again unsuccessfully tried to close his legs. "So we decided," Angela continued, "that there had to be some acceptable alternative to a divorce where I'd only get half of everything at best.” She paused for dramatic effect. “And then it came to me.” Another pregnant pause. “Adoption!" she said with a kind of glee he had not heard from her in years. "What?” Nick struggled to understand what she had just said. “ You can't be serious! Adoption isn’t allowed in Freewind!” “And who said we’re still in Freewind? Hmm?” Angela taunted. The feeling in the pit of Nick’s stomach rose again. It was clear now that he was sitting inside an Amazon sized vehicle. But you can’t adopt even if we are on the mainland. You're just a Little too!" Nick fired back. The fog was clearing but as he tried to move forward in his chair he once again felt large strong hands pushing him back into the seat." "Oh we're not adopting you, you little sissy." Scott chimed in happy to offer up a contribution. "but there are plenty of baby crazed Amazons out there just dying to adopt." "And all we need to find one," said Angela moving to the side, "is the perfect bait." Nick now found himself staring at the image of a sweet toddler girl. She wore a baby pink dress that was covered with images of little girl ballerinas. The dress came well short of her knees and was puffed up by a fluffy white petticoat. A large pacifier dangled at the end of a ribbon that clipped to her Peter pan collar. On her other breast there appeared to be some kind of note pinned there with a large safety pin. Nick did not have time to try to read it as he looked over the rest of the figure. Her blonde hair was done up in ringlets that bounced playfully at the sides of her head. Her face had an innocent glow to it from a soft layer of blush that complimented her pink painted lips and large doe eyes. She was sitting in a chair far too big for her and her feet dangled in the air. Her shiny white patent leather Mary Janes caught the occasional stray beam of light. From her left arm there was a tube that led up to a large IV bag of clear liquid that was almost empty. And of course covering her hands a pair of baby pink satin mittens. Nick felt the blood drain from his face as he stared at the image of himself squirming in the chair as he struggled again to break free.. "And what Mommy could resist a sweet little sissy baby like you?" Angela said. She beamed with pride at how perfectly she had transformed her soon to be former husband into a package that would ignite the maternal instincts in almost any Amazon woman. "Or Daddy!" she said with glee. "Would you like that Baby Nicky? To be adopted by some big strong Amazon daddy?" her mocking continued. Nick felt his strength returning. He thrashed about in the seat but Scott's heavy hands held him fast. He looked around for a weapon or something he could use to his advantage. But he could not find anything inside what he assumed to be an Amazon sized conversion van.. Behind the enormous chair he was seated in Scott maintained a firm gasp on Nicks shoulders. Scott was certainly not an Amazon but his Betweener frame was more than enough to control the Little before him. He chuckled as he watched Nick kick at at nothing with his feet sending his dress and petticoats fluttering in the air about him. Nicks left arm got caught up in the IV tubing ripping the needle form his arm. Scott pushed Nick down again with renewed urgency and squeezed Nick a little harder which brought at least a temporary end to Nicks struggles. "Sweetie there is no point. You're only going to hurt yourself." Angela calmly stated as she moved to place a small band aid on the fresh puncture. "And what chance does little sissy wimp like you have against a real man like Scott?" Scott lowered his head so they could share a brief, but still far to lengthy kiss. Satisfied with her work she walked to the large van door and pressed the button to release it. With a soft whine the door slowly opened and Nick stared out in the bright sunlight. Nick shivered as a cool breeze blew up the bottom of his dress and he felt very exposed as the air chilled the tops of his legs just below his bulging diaper. "Come along now baby. It's time for you to go find your new Mommy." "Or Daddy" Scott mocked. "A little sissy and her Daddy. Could there be anything more precious?" Scott lifted Nick to his feet and began maneuvering him toward the open door. The thick diaper around Nick's waist severely reduced his leg movements and the hard soles of his shoes found no purchase on the floor as he desperately tried to halt his movement forward. Nick realized the peril of his situation. "Angela! Please!" Nick begged, "Don't do this." His feet found the edge of the door and dangled in the air. He reached out to grab the door frame but his slippery mittens lost their grip as Scott lifted him out of the Amazon vehicle. "But Nicky." Angela said. "It's already done." With a smooth movement Scott spun Nick around and then pushed him knocking him squarely down onto his padded bottom. Angela tossed a large white stuffed rabbit at where Nick was sitting on the ground. "Now you take good care of Flopsy bunny for me OK?" Nick tried to scramble to his feet but between the thick diaper and the smooth soles of his shoes it was slow going. Scott had already made his way back into the van and hit the start button. The engine softly purred to life. Scott may barely be able see above the huge steering wheel, but his feet still reached the pedals enough for him to drive. Angela pressed the button and the van door began to close. Nick regaining his balance started to run toward the door but almost fell over again as he slipped on the cobblestone path. He reached he van just in time to feel the door latch shut. He banged on the door with his padded fists as Angela smiled at him through the window. "You can't do this!" he shouted as Scott slipped the van into gear. Nick took a step back as the van lurched awkwardly and began to pull away. He toddled after the van calling out "Angela!!! Please!!! Don't Leave Me!!!" End Chapter2 I've got more parts written but they need some more editing. I'll try to get a new part out every week or so. Thanks for reading.

Hey everyone! It's Sophie! Pudding and I have been writing a few short stories recently so I'm just going to post them all at once. If you like them and want to support our writing, please check out our Patreon: www.patreon.com/sophieandpudding This one actually comes from an ABDL web-zine we worked on, starring 22 talented writers and artists! You can download it for free at: https://princessmolly.gumroad.com/l/nursery-warp-2021 The illustration at the end of the story is by JuiceBox! Check him out on Patreon at: www.patreon.com/JuiceBoxArt -------------------------- Lost in Translation Written by Sophie & Pudding Translations by Lilyblax Illustration by JuiceBox Premise: Grace Gardener travels to France to visit her old crush, Violette. Resolute in her plans to tell Violette how she feels, Grace is constantly stymied by unexpected foreign customs. Will Grace be able to admit her feelings in time, or will she become Violette’s little girl instead? Disclaimers: diapers, wetting, messing, French -------------------------- "Here's you go, Miss Gardner." The flight attendant passed me a pillow with a bright smile. Every time she looked at me, she seemed particularly happy. Or maybe that's just what you pay for when you buy first class. I settled back in my chair and tucked the pillow under my head. Outside the little window, the sky was the darkest blue and the moon was the brightest white. I couldn't see the ocean beneath the clouds, but I knew it was there; there's not much else between New York and France. I'd never been outside the United States before, but I couldn't turn Violette down when she asked me to visit. Violette and I had been best friends all through high school, but she went back to Paris for college. After she graduated, she moved around a lot until she settled in a French city that I would embarrass myself trying to pronounce. In high school, I had a huge crush on Violette. She was unwavering in her optimism and unfettered in her confidence. She made me do things I would never do on my own, things I haven’t done since. But even as we said our goodbyes, I couldn't work up the courage to tell her how I felt. Somehow, this trip felt like a second chance. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. I closed my eyes and let the hum of the airplane lull me to sleep. When I woke up, the sun was pouring in through the little window and an overhead voice was addressing the cabin: "Nous allons commencer notre descente dans quelques instants." I rubbed my eyes and sat up in the seat just as the pretty flight attendant appeared at my side. "Good morning, Grace," she said with that same bright smile. "We will be landing shortly, so let's get you all buckled up." Unexpectedly, the flight attendant bent down on one knee - so we were the same height - and pulled the seat belt over my lap. She clicked it shut and pulled the strap tight. Then, as she stood back up, she patted me on the top of my head. I stared incredulously as she walked down the aisle. "That was weird," I muttered to myself. Maybe I was reading too much into it. Before I was fully awake, the plane began to lilt forward and dip into the clouds. I pressed my forehead to the window to see the vast, grassy hills as they emerged from the fog. A small city grew ever closer, until I could see cars on the streets and people on the sidewalks. With a jolt, the plane landed on the runway and I let out a sigh of relief. I didn't even realize I'd been holding my breath. People all around me started to get up and gather their bags. I pulled at the seat belt around my waist, but I couldn't figure out how to unlatch it. Maybe it had a lock or something? The cute flight attendant passed by and I reached out to get her attention. "Excuse me. How do I unbuckle this?" "Be patient, Grace," she smiled. "I'll help you after the rest of the passengers are through." "But..." I tried to protest, but the flight attendant was addressing the crowded aisle in French. I sunk into my seat and pouted. I guess I didn't have a choice, did I? I watched as families and businessmen walked past me. Sometimes they would look at me and smile. Sometimes they would wave. A few women would speak to me, but I didn't understand what they were saying, so I would smile and nod. I could have sworn most of the passengers spoke English before we left. While I waited, I fished around my bag for my English to French phrasebook. I'd been studying it all summer, but I suddenly couldn’t remember a single one. Maybe I just needed a quick refresher. "Grace?" I looked up from my book at the flight attendant. Everyone else had left the plane. "What are you reading, hm?" "I... uh. I'm just trying to remember some phrases," I stammered. "Oh? Do you have a favorite one?" I started to notice her sunny disposition could be taken as condescension. "No," I muttered, looking at the cover of the book. I'd just reviewed ten different phrases, but I couldn’t remember any of them. "That's okay, honey," she said. "It's hard to learn new words." I sulked at the implication. Effortlessly, the flight attendant reached down, unbuckled my seat belt, and helped me to my feet. My legs felt a little wobbly after sitting for so long and she had to hold me up until I caught my balance. "Do you need a, um..." The flight attendant paused to think of the word, as though she didn't speak perfect English. "Push chair?" "No, I'm alright." I didn't want to be in a wheelchair the first time Violette saw me in five years. I was trying to make a good impression! "Okay then. Follow me." The attractive, condescending woman - was I just describing French women in general? - led me off the plane, holding me by the hand in a way that was altogether inappropriate. Was this a cultural thing? It had to be a cultural thing. But after we entered the airport and the flight attendant let go of my hand, I was overwhelmed with longing. My hand hadn’t been held like that in a while. “Vois-tu ta maman quelque part?" she asked. I stared blankly at the flight attendant. "Is someone meeting you?" she asked in English. "Oh, um. My friend Violette. She’s a little shorter than me, with blue-green hair." I looked around for signs of my friend, but the flight attendant took me by the hand once again. We were halfway down the terminal when I caught sight of Violette's teal tips. She always dyed the ends of her long, wavy hair. I thought she would get over it after high school, but she still sent me pictures each time she picked a new color. "Violette!" I shouted, waving my free arm. I managed to pull my hand out of the flight attendant's and run a dozen or so feet down until my arms were around Violette. She smelled like cinnamon and snowy mornings. I melted into her like chocolate fondue. "Gracie, je pensais que tu t'étais perdue!" she laughed. I didn't know what she said exactly, but it was wonderful to hear her voice. After the hug, I looked up at her with a touch of confusion. "You’re taller," I realized, at least a few inches taller than me. I checked her shoes, but she wasn’t wearing heels. "Ou alors tu as rétréci," Violette said. Then she turned to the flight attendant and started a conversation in French. I tried to wait my turn, but the longer it went on the sillier I felt. I couldn’t understand a single word… I tugged Violette’s sleeve to get her attention. "I'm so sorry, my darling," Violette apologized after looking at my expression. "I know those words are hard for you, and you must be oh-so-tired after your long trip.” She kissed the flight attendant on the cheek, which made me a little jealous. Then Violette took my hand in hers to led me to the baggage claim. "I slept on the flight," I explained as we walked. "And you don't have to..." Hold my hand? I'd longed for her to hold my hand for years, so why was I going to complain? I decided to stay quiet instead, a blush on my cheeks. "You're going to love it here," Violette said in a dreamy voice, pulling me along by the hand. I was having trouble keeping up with her and my legs still tingled from the flight. Every few sentences, Violette would slip into French and I would lose her train of thought. When we got to the baggage claim, there was only one bag left: a pink one with cartoons on the front. Violette went to grab it but I pulled her back. "My bag is green," I told her. "It's the same one we took on our camping trips." Violette tilted her head and said, "This is the one we took on our camping trips, you silly little sweetroll." "What? No, mine’s green…” Despite my protest, Violette grabbed the bag and read the tag out loud: "Petite Madame Gracie May Gardner." I narrowed my eyes and pushed in front of her to read the tag myself, but the words... they didn't make any sense. Maybe they were in French? That made sense, right? But why would my name be on a bag that wasn’t even mine? Unless... "Could the airline have switched my stuff to a different bag?" Maybe there was a problem with my suitcase and this was the only one available. But Violette didn’t seem to care about the luggage mystery. "Come now, Gracie." Violette pulled me along in one hand and pulled the rolling suitcase along in the other. I followed her halfway across the room before I was out of breath. I pulled on her hand until she stopped. "I need to sit down for a minute, Vi. My legs are killing me..." Thankfully, there was a bench only a few steps away. Airports were notorious for sitting space. "Je devrais peut-être trouver une poussette," Violette mused, looking around the open baggage lobby. I sat on the bench and pouted. "I can't understand you when you speak like that," I told her sharply, with as much assertiveness as I could muster. "And why are you calling me Gracie?" "Quel autre surnom pourrais-je te donner, princesse?" she said, still speaking French and glancing around the room. “English, please. I don't understand it when you—" "Ah!" Whatever Violette was looking for, she seemed to find it. She ran off with all the whimsy of a woodland sprite and I was left alone with the pink suitcase. I spoke quietly to myself: "I can't tell if this is going well or not..." I took a moment to look around the airport; I could hear the sounds of cars outside and the chatter of people, but none of them were saying words I could understand. Even the words written above the baggage claim or the signs at the help desk were gibberish to me. I felt like a stranger in this world, and when Violette came back pushing a giant stroller I was sure that was the case. "What the fuck is that?" I demanded. "C'est une poussette pour une princesse qui a fait un très long vol." I didn't understand her, but the question was rhetorical. It was a baby stroller, but it looked like it was sized for an adult. The metal was painted pink and the cushion was decorated with little cartoon princesses. Even the buckle and harness were bigger, easily enough to accommodate a fully grown woman. How did something like this even exist?! Then I realized why she had brought it over in the first place. "No," I said seriously. "No way." "Gracie." "No!" I shouted a little louder. "I’m not getting in a stroller!" A few people nearby turned their heads to look at me and I felt sick with embarrassment. "The car is parked very far away," Violette said. "At least twenty minutes walk." I hesitated. A twenty minute walk? I could barely make it to the baggage claim, and my legs weren't feeling any better. "Maintenant, sois une gentille petite fille—" Violette began, but I cut her off with one loud word: "English!" "You aren't going to learn any adult words if I keep speaking to you like a baby," Violette said harshly. A few more people turned to look at us and I sunk into the bench in shame. Violette had never spoken to me like that before… "I don't know what you're so upset about," Violette sighed, softening her tone. "Why do you think the airport has these? It's normal." I looked at the oversized stroller. Normal? I had never heard of adult strollers in France before... but why else would it be in the airport? I put my thumb to my mouth and bit nervously on my nail. "You're sure?" I muttered. "Tout à fait normal pour les filles de ton âge," Violette nodded. "Monte." With a bit of difficulty and a lot of reluctance, I climbed into the giant stroller. Violette buckled me in and I leaned back as far as I could to hide myself. This was so humiliating. Violette pushed the stroller through the baggage claim and outside to the parking lot. I kept waiting for someone to laugh or point at me, but even as dozens of people passed, no one gave me more than a cursory smile or a pleasant wave. Out of courtesy, I would sometimes wave back. Was this really normal? True to Violette's assessment, the car was parked a full twenty minutes walk away - a distance that now, in retrospect, I knew I couldn't have walked on my own. How ordinary was it to feel so weak after a long flight? What did people call it? Jetlag? Yeah, that had to be it. There was a brief flash as Violette took a surprise photo of me and I opened my mouth to protest. "Cela fera une belle couverture pour notre scrapbook!" she said. "Violette..." I actually sounded whiny. "This kind of thing may be normal in France, but you have to ask before you take my picture in a baby stroller." "Ne fais pas d'histoires. Je vais prendre plein de photos de toi et de tes nouveaux amis. Des amis français." I pouted. She wasn't going to stop this French nonsense, was she? But maybe she was right: maybe this was the best way I could learn the language. As Violette packed my suitcase into the trunk of her car, I fumbled with the buckle on the stroller. But no matter how I tugged or twisted or pulled, I couldn't seem to free myself. By the time Violette came over, I was red with irritation. "It's stuck! This stupid thing... I swear all the buckles in this stupid country—" Violette pushed my hands away and clicked open the buckle on her first try. I looked up at her with red cheeks as my frustration turned to embarrassment. How did she… but she lived here. Of course she had experience with this stuff. Right? "Monte, Gracie." Violette held open the door to the back of the car rather than the passenger seat, clicking her tongue impatiently. I rolled my eyes and climbed into the car. There was a car seat strapped in one of the seats. That was weird; Violette didn’t have any kids. I sat next to it and - before I could even find the seatbelt - Violette clicked her tongue again in disapproval. "In the car seat, silly," she explained in English. "I… what?" I stared dumbfounded. This had to be a joke… "It’s the law, Gracie," Violette said seriously, crossing her arms over her chest. No way that was true. Americans had to sit in car seats? She was taking this too far! "Vi, this is stupid…" I muttered, looking at the huge car seat beside me. It was definitely big enough to fit an adult and I was starting to notice a trend. I didn’t remember reading anything about this online, and I’d done a lot of research on French customs. But all those people we walked past in the airport… there was no way they were acting. "We can’t leave until you get in," Violette said. "So unless you want to live in this parking lot…" I glared up at her, but her confidence was unshakable. I knew Violette; she would wait here until the end of time if she was trying to prove a point. At least the car seat was in the privacy of her car - it was much less embarrassing than the stroller. "I still think this is stupid," I muttered, lifting myself into the carseat with deep annoyance. "You're American," Violette giggled. "You think everything is stupid." Violette wasted no time reaching down into the car and strapping me in. Another buckle I didn't understand. Once again, I was trapped. Violette put the car in Drive and turned to look at me. A warm smile spread across her face. "Tu vas être si mignonne quand nous rentrerons à la maison. Une jolie couche, une jolie robe, des nattes. Mon Dieu." "Based on your tone," I muttered, trying to close my legs with the buckle pulled between them, "it sounds like you’re flirting with me." "Very good, Gracie!" I stared incredulously into her rear-view mirror, catching sight of her smile as she said those words. Violette was actually flirting with me? I bit my lip and sunk into the carseat. Maybe not everything was stupid. The car ride was predictably dull, but the view was gorgeous. Outside the windows, the city buildings were never more than three stories tall and the rolling hills made a beautiful backdrop. All the streets were only two-lanes, and we even drove on the correct side of the road. I kicked my feet idly, nowhere near touching the floor, and let my imagination take me to Violette's house. Did she have a room for me? Or was I staying in her room? I never asked. Then a strange feeling pulled me back to reality. Out of nowhere, I really had to pee! I hadn't gone even once on the plane; I hated public bathrooms more than I hated anything! But it never mattered - I had an iron bladder - until that very moment. "Hey, um. How much longer until we're there?" I wiggled awkwardly in my carseat, shifting side to side. "A little while yet, Gracie sweetie." That was not the answer I was hoping for. "Like... five minutes?" I was kicking my legs a little faster now, and I'd have crossed them if I could. "Tu vas finir par faire pipi dans ma voiture, n'est-ce pas ? J'aurais dû te changer à l'aéroport." "Hey! I don't know what you're saying but you sound annoyed." "Let's play the alphabet game, Gracie, would you like that?" "Umm..." I really had to pee, but maybe the distraction would help. "I guess..." It was a lot harder to play the alphabet game when you can't read any of the words! All the street signs and storefronts were in French, and I didn't know how to pronounce any of it. Even if I saw the right letter, I didn't know how to say the word. And there weren't any billboards like there were in the States. I only made it to letter D before I felt a heat pool between my legs, soaking into the denim of my jeans and pooling under my butt. At first I didn't understand what was happening, and then I realized I didn't have to pee anymore. Before I could figure out what to do, tears filled my eyes and my lip started to tremble. I couldn't let Violette see me like this! If she did, she'd never like me! "Oh tu as eu un petit accident?" Violette cooed from the driver's seat. "N-no, I'm fine!" I answered, not understanding the question. "I'm just... just tired! Um..." I fumbled for the buckle as tears spilled down my cheeks. I had to get out of this thing before we got to her house. I kept wiping the water from my cheeks but it wasn't doing me any good. I couldn't hide my tears no more than I could hide the accident I had. Within minutes, we were pulling in a small stone driveway in front of a cute two-story condo. Violette got out of the car and opened my door. "No, go away!" I shouted, shoving at her hands, but small slaps on the tops of them shut me up. She reached forward, unbuckled my seatbelt, and lifted me up out of the seat. I cried as she sat me on my feet and took a look at my jeans. "Pauvre chou, allez, on va rentrer à l'intérieur et te changer." I turned to face away from her so she couldn’t see, but the back was even worse than the front. My butt was completely soaked and I couldn’t look up from the gravel driveway. "Je vais te retirer de ces guenilles et te donner des vêtements plus appropriés." "Please stop talking in French. Please, I—" My words were interrupted when Violette pushed my thumb between my lips. In the span of two heartbeats, my anxiety began to trickle away. I wanted to pull my thumb out of my mouth, but it was the first time since I'd wet myself that I felt like I had some level of control. Everything around me was so new and scary: the country, the customs, and then my accident. Even Violette was acting strange. But with my thumb in my mouth, it felt slower. Manageable. Was this why babies suck their thumbs? I couldn't even remember the last time... Violette took my hand and led me up the stoop and in the front door. I felt like a two year old following her mommy around: soaked pants on display for the whole neighborhood. But somehow, with my hand in hers, I felt safe too. When we were both inside, Violette closed the door behind us and I took three steps into her foyer. The house wasn’t particularly big, but the open living room and kitchen made it seem gigantic. I mustered every ounce of willpower to pull my thumb from my lips and turned to look at my best friend. "I'm so sorry," I told her. "So sorry about your car, and... and I didn't mean to... I promise it will never happen again. I promise..." "Ne t'inquiète pas, je ferai en sorte que cela ne se reproduise plus," Violette said with a warm smile. She walked up the stairs with my hand in hers and I followed a step behind. With my free hand, I kept rubbing my eyes. I felt so foolish. The whole day had been a terrible disaster. How was I ever supposed to ask Violette out now? I would be lucky if she was still my friend after all this... At the top of the stairs, there was a small landing with a toy chest in the corner and a soft looking rug in the center of the room. In the corner, there was a rocking chair. Then there were two doors. As I was led past the first one, I peered in to see a bathroom. So then... Violette and I were sharing a room? But when she opened the door, I could never have expected what I saw. It was like any adult's room: a dresser, a queen-sized bed, a full-length mirror, and a closet. But on the far wall, there was an alcove maybe a quarter the size of the room itself. It was set into the wall, trimmed with white moulding, and a small butterfly nameplate above it - near the ceiling - reading "Gracie". The alcove itself was painted pink - a stark contrast to the neutrality of the room itself - and decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars. Against the back wall was a huge white, wooden crib. On the other wall, there was a table with a thin mat on top of it, like a changing table. And lastly, a set of ten square shelves were stocked with stacks and stacks of diapers. I stared dumbfounded at the dichotomy of Violette's room - of our room - and shook my head in disbelief. This was... no way. "What the hell is this?!" I shouted, anger and confusion filling the space where my embarrassment was only a moment ago. How could she do this?! "This is your home, Gracie,” Violette said simply. If she was intimidated by my display of ferocity, she certainly didn’t show it. She nudged me inside the room and closed the door behind us with a little click. "I mean it, Vi! What... what is... what the hell? You think I don't see how big those things are? You think 'oh Grace will just think they're for some kid' - I'm not even staying here! I'm going home on... on... um..." Why couldn't I remember...? "Oh mon Dieu, quelle crise de colère!" "I can tell when you're being condescending!" "Le français sonne comme ça," Violette laughed, but I wasn't amused. I shoved past her and twisted the door handle. It didn't open. Then, faster than I could blink, Violette spun me around and pinned my back to the door. She stepped closer to me and cradled my cheek in her hand, rubbing her thumb across my face ever so softly. She leaned in so our lips were only a few inches apart and I felt my heart race in my chest. Then she tilted her head and kissed me once on the forehead. The warmth spread through that spot on my skin like the wetness through my jeans, filling me up with emotions. But rather than fear and shame, I felt... safe. "I'm so happy you're here, Gracie," Violette whispered, tracing her free hand down my side and to the hip of my wet pants. I had to remind myself to breathe. "Moving to France was the hardest thing I've ever done... I've worked for years to make a life for you here. For us. I never wanted to leave my little girl behind..." I had no idea what she was talking about. I was never her little girl before! Right...? But the more I thought about it, the less sure I was. Her optimism was unwavering; she always told me things would be okay, no matter how scary they seemed. Her confidence was unfettered; she always told me I was safe with her, no matter how unlikely that was. She made me do things I would never do on my own - she made me hang out with the other kids, talk about my feelings, and accept everything that I am - things I hadn't done since. But even as we said our goodbyes - a forehead kiss at the airport and a final crinkle of her hand on my hip - I couldn't work up the courage to tell her how I felt. Somehow, this trip felt like a second chance. "Do you really wanna be a big girl, Gracie?" she asked, a nervous smile on her beautiful lips. But somewhere in me, I knew she deserved an adult. That's what I'd been trying to be for so long. So I nodded my head. "I am a big girl," I said assertively, or as assertively as any girl in pee-soaked jeans could manage. "Then you'll say it with big girl words," Violette said, then took a step back. “Veux-tu que je te remette des couches pour le restant de ta vie? Veux-tu être ma petite fille? Je sais que tu l'es déjà." I stared dumbfounded at the girl of my dreams. She'd asked me a question, and it was clear she wanted an answer. But I had no idea what she was asking. I knew, without a doubt, if I told her to try to speak English, that I would always be a baby-babbling little girl to Violette. But if I answered wrong... I couldn't come back from that, could I? I tried to read Violette's face. She stood with a smile and excited eyes... eager? Curious? Or did she know that even if I answered correctly, I could never know for sure. She could pretend she asked a different question and I would never know the difference. In truth, I wasn't answering Violette's question. I was letting her decide my future. My choice didn't matter: only hers did. In that way, I really was just her little girl. "Yes," I said, with the utmost confidence, not knowing to what I was agreeing. "Tu es sûr?" she asked. I didn't know what it meant, but I could read the intent. She was asking for confirmation. "Yes," I said again. "Okay," Violette said, speaking my baby-talk language for the last time. I felt like I had crossed a threshold, like I was taking a step I couldn’t come back from, and the feeling was literal when Violette led me by the hand into the nursery nook. My cheeks were red as I looked at the changing table, at the crib, at the diapers. "On va te changer, ma petite fontaine. Tu dois être tellement mal à l'aise dans ce pantalon mouillé." Her voice and cadence were so melodic as she unbuckled my jeans and peeled them down my legs. Next went my panties; she prompted me to step out of them as they reached my ankles. I'd daydreamed about Violette undressing me countless times, but never like this. I could never have imagined it would be like this… naked from the waist down, soaked in my own pee, and standing adjacent to an adult-sized changing table, in an adult-sized nursery nook, filled with adult-sized diapers and an adult-sized crib. Next to Violette, I felt the very opposite of adult-sized. Violette reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it up over my head. Instinctively, my arms raised and I was standing in just my bra. She took a step closer and leaned in; my heart raced as our lips closed in on each other, but she turned her head and our cheeks touched. Her arms wrapped around me and unsnapped my bra, pulling the straps down off my arms and leaving me as naked as the day I was born. I looked up in her eyes with tears in mine, overwhelmed with shame and fear. But her smile seemed to take it all away. "Violette..." I muttered, a plea for her to stop all this. I couldn't be a baby. I wasn't a baby! "Maman," she corrected, a stern look in her eye. A felt a rush of heat in my face and electricity up my spine. "Maman," I repeated... the first and only French word I knew. The only one that mattered. "Gentille fille," Violette smiled, and though I didn’t know what she said in words, the pride of her sentiment made me warm inside. She pushed me back ever so slightly until my bare butt hit the changing table. I looked up at her, biting my lip, and she gave me a supportive nod. "Lève." I didn't need a translation for that one. I slid back on to the changing table, like it was a doctor's table, but Violette wasn't having any of it. She spun me by the ankles and pushed me gently onto my back. I looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars - unbearably dim in the afternoon sunlight - and knew that my cheeks were shining much brighter. I felt Violette's hand on my thigh, trailing her fingers up to my knee, and pulling my legs apart. I had imagined this moment so many times, but never like this. I felt something cool and wet against my thigh. It made me jump, but Violette hushed me. "Du calme, ma petite princesse. Maman est juste en train de te nettoyer." I shivered in place as I figured out she was wiping me clean with a baby wipe from the changing table. She moved slowly and deliberately, rubbing the insides of my thighs and then between my legs. She was cleaning me up because I pissed my pants like a... like a… As Violette stepped across the nook to the cube shelves and I heard the crinkling of plastic. She turned the simple act of a diaper change into something sacred, like it was a ceremony. In a way, it was. She unfolded the diaper in front of me, standing at the side of the changing table. In my peripherals, I could see the plastic unfurl, crinkling sounds filling the air. I watched the wings as she pulled them apart, huge and wide like the arms of a hug. And the print on the front was so infantile, with baby blocks and teddy bears. How had she gotten them in my size? How had she gotten this table, or that crib, or that stroller at the airport? Why was everyone - from the flight attendant to the people in the parking lot - so comfortable with seeing me as an oversized baby? The only reason I could think of was the obvious: this was normal. Violette lifted my legs by the ankles. She raised them high in the air so my butt was off the table, and then - when it came back down - it rested on the soft padding of the diaper. The scent of baby powder filled the air and I sunk deeper into the changing table. I felt so fresh. Clean. Pure. Any parent could tape on a diaper in two seconds flat. Practice makes perfect, right? But the way Violette did it was perfect in a totally different way. She took her time, adjusting every little part of the plastic to be symmetrical. She pulled the thick center between my legs and pressed it to my hips. She folded and creased the wings so that each tape was pulled tight and snug across my body. She drew lines with her fingers around the legbands, checking for anywhere I might leak. And when she was satisfied, she patted the front two times, sending a shiver up my spine. By the time Violette pulled me up to sit on the table, my head was swirling with things I'd never felt before. Important. Adorable. Protected. Loved. Why would I ever want to be an adult, when I could be her little girl? If I had an answer at one point, I certainly didn't anymore. "Tu as été une si gentille petite fille. Maman est si fière de toi. Allons choisir une de tes plus belles robes." I was oblivious to her words, but the tone of her praise melted me from the inside out. She picked up the suitcase she had brought up with us and laid it down on the changing table. As I moved, even a little bit, I crinkled; I harmonized with the zipper of the case opening. When she pulled out the pretty sundress that was too short to cover my diaper, I anxiously put my thumb to my lips. "That's not mine, Maman..." "C'est dans ta valise, Gracie. Cela signifie que c'est la tienne. N'est-ce pas?" I nodded, agreeing to something I didn’t understand, although I knew what would happen next. She would put me in that dress and it would be mine. Sure enough, after a word of praise, Violette pulled the dress over my head and lifted me onto my feet. She took me across the room to see myself in her full-length mirror. As she tied my hair into pigtails, I stared at the hem of my pink sundress and the diaper it failed to conceal. There was no going back now... Once my hair was done, Maman clipped a ribbon to my dress. She took the pacifier hanging off the end of it and popped it in my mouth. The girl in the mirror was nothing but a baby, through and through. So when I felt my tummy gurgle, I knew the was no point in asking. But what little adulthood I had left demanded I ask anyway. "Maman," I muttered, turning to face her. I spoke with a lisp around my pacifier. "I gotta go potty…" "C'est à ça que servent tes couches, mon ange. Nous le savons toutes les deux." I looked up at Maman with resignation. I didn’t know what she said, but it didn’t matter; I knew my fate. Just in case I forgot, my tummy gurgled again to remind me. It was unavoidable, inescapable, and approaching inevitable. Long ago, maybe a lifetime ago, I knew when I needed to use the potty and I could make it there in time. Now, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to. I did my due diligence; I did what my adulthood demanded of me. I asked, even though Maman and I both knew it was all for show. I had to ask, because she had to say no. It was performative. Distantly, somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear the echoes of shame and humiliation begging me to defy Maman. As those pleas fell on deaf ears, I watched the girl in the mirror. I saw a blush on her cheeks and the way her teary eyes shined with longing, a longing for things to be easy. She wasn’t happy with what she was about to do, but she was happy for the praise that would surely follow in words she couldn’t possibly understand. Maman wrapped her arms around me, rubbing my tummy through my dress, and whispered softly in my ear: "Je t'aime, Gracie." Though my dumb baby brain couldn't translate her words, my dumb baby heart could feel them more clearly than anything I'd ever known. I stared at Maman in the mirror and bit my pacifier. I didn’t want to hold it, even if I could. So with my Maman’s arms around me, I bent forward just a bit and began to push. At first, nothing happened; I thought maybe I wasn’t a baby after all. Then, with a second push, I felt the seat of my diaper expand and fill. It was so easy. Nothing in my life had ever been as easy as messing my diaper, and that's how I knew I was never meant to be an adult. [END]

Hey everyone! It's Sophie! Pudding and I have been writing a few short stories recently so I'm just going to post them all at once. If you like them and want to support our writing, please check out our Patreon: www.patreon.com/sophieandpudding -------------------------- Bnuuy Brainwash By Pudding *Author’s Note: I wrote this as a birthday gift for my favorite dumb bnuuy, Claire, and she was gracious enough to share with you all. Premise: Claire is a new initiate in the Dependent program, where she is regressed to a full-time baby. What awaits Claire in her new life? Disclaimers: brainwashing, hypnosis, diapers, wetting, messing -------------------------- “You can’t do this to me!” They always said that, without fail, without exception, as though that very simple and defiant proclamation might have changed their fate. What did they expect would happen when they said that? Did they fancy that the fate chosen for them would suddenly and miraculously be reversed? That the very extensive program designed purely and strictly for this purpose would just do an about-face and decide that they indeed couldn’t do this? Regardless of motivation, it was all academic at this point anyway; once a person was nominated to undergo this conversion, there was no turning back, or reversing the process, or presence of an off-switch or anything of the sort. And beyond a doubt, the program worked — it had worked on thousands of other people before this little bundle of sass and spunk, and it would work on thousands and thousands more after her too. She was certainly attractive, with brown eyes that shone with intelligence and thought, an adorable nose and a smile that was best described as too pretty for a girl as clever as she was. Although presently, smiling seemed to be the last thing on her mind. Rather, she wore a scowl with all the efficacy of a child; much more of a pout than anything intimidating. It wasn’t hard to see why someone might want her transformed into a Dependent. What was her name? Claire? That was a pretty name, and suitably juvenile too. A glance at the chart revealed that her wife had nominated her for the program, citing in her application that Claire was often lost in daydreams and fantasy worlds, and couldn’t be trusted with adult tasks. Which was in no way to say she wasn’t capable, just that when given the choice she’d always rather lose herself in passions than devote herself to something meaningful. Just like any child, really. “Oh, you know, they always say that Claire.” “But!” she scrunched up her nose and shook her head, “maybe other people deserved it, but not me, I’m not supposed to be here. My wife-” “Is the one who sent you here, yes, that’s very good!” There was a brief and delightful silence from the girl as her pretty brown eyes fell under the weight of her frowning, and she tried to figure out if that was true or not. This, too, was all too common. She’d probably see it as a betrayal, rather than the act of love that it had been. “She wouldn’t, she loves me, and… and and and…she wouldn’t do this to me.” Bingo! “And it’s because she loves you that you’re here, Claire. My name is Miss Pudding, although you don’t really need to remember that for very long - you won’t be in any state to call an adult by name, soon enough.” “Pudding!” “That’s right, sweetheart! That’s my name,” the woman clapped her hands in quiet and singular applause, and continued, “and you’re Claire, although I’m to understand that your Momma-to-be has something more appropriate in mind as a pet name for you.” This was about the time Pudding expected Claire to realize the gravity of her situation, and the brown-eyed-beauty certainly didn’t disappoint. She looked around slowly at first; as the fire in her heart faded and the metaphorical smoke was given a chance to clear. She was in a room with lilac walls and carpet, lacking any other defining features apart from the bed she was strapped firmly down to by the wrists and ankles. “Please, please please, you gotta let me go…I won’t tell anyone, I won’t, and I’ll um…” Tears were starting to pool at the edges of those pretty pretty eyes, and she really did look beautiful, especially in such a state. “You’re trying too hard, Claire; there’s no escape and by the time we’re done with you, escape won’t even be something you want. So just relax and try to enjoy yourself.” There was a click sound as the lights went down, and as though the lights had been her own eyes, Claire faded quickly into sleep. * * * When she woke up, Claire wasn’t in the lilac room anymore, and she wasn’t in the bed, and she wasn’t in the dark. Around her she could hear the busy chittering of what sounded like children, although she couldn’t focus on them right now; she was so awestruck and stunned by what she was wearing: a gingham dress in lilac that flowed over her body the way that snow painted a layer over the world in winter. Wearing a pretty dress was right. Something thick between her legs that she immediately lost focus on if she tried to think about it. That was right, too. And something in her mouth that a part of her brain told her was a pacifier and a louder voice inside of her told her was okay. Promptly, defiantly, she ignored that voice, and spat the thing out from between her lips. The pacifier fell only far enough for the momentum to be arrested by the clip attached to her dress. She could feel panic trying to rise in her chest, both fueled and suppressed by the final realization that she wasn’t alone anymore. Her eyes looked around, panned the horizon from her place sitting on the floor, and she saw now what she’d thought were children. Her brain tried to tally them up, although any counting past four seemed to get jumbled, and so she concluded there were simply ‘lots’. Lots of adults, dressed in pretty outfits. Dresses and shortalls, onesies and skirtalls, footed sleepers and cute polka-dotted ensembles. The largeness of the room made Claire feel very small by comparison. Claire winced and rubbed her head; feeling braided plaits that danced and pulled under their own weight of hair and ribbons. Something didn’t feel right; her head didn’t feel right, her thoughts didn’t feel right. None of this felt right, or sensical, or familiar. A voice that reached out to her did feel familiar, though. A voice she knew, a voice she trusted. “Hello again, darling girl.” Looking up at the woman who stood above her, there were a lot of floating thoughts in her head. Safety. Happiness. Trust. Miss Pudding. And another name that came to the forefront the way a message might in a magic 8 ball: Nana. “Nana…?” Claire felt uncomfortable with that word; she felt conflicted. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, and like it was the first time she’d ever said it. Moreover, her voice felt strange… or her choice of words, maybe. Like most of the words she reached for flittered out of her reach. “What happened… what… what did you do to me, Nana?” The standing woman knelt and put her hand on Claire’s cheek with a warm smile – the kind of smile that made Claire flush with warmth for reasons she couldn’t understand — and spoke to her in words that felt like honey; sweet and thick and sticky. “Nana didn’t do anything you didn’t want, sweetie.” “She… she didn’t…?” Claire felt so confused. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here. She remembered the Lilac Room, and she she remembered the darkness, and she remembered… swimming? No. She remembered sinking. And then floating. She remembered feeling scared, and then safe, and then… her memory felt foggy. Or maybe it felt like it was receding the way that waves did after they crashed upon the shore. Nana had such a warm smile and such pretty eyes. How had Claire never noticed that before? How had she never noticed those pretty blue eyes? She wanted to look away and found herself patently unable. A voice in her head told her that it was okay to float in those waters, and that Nana loved her. Of course Nana loved her. Obviously. “What… what is this, Nana?” She tugged at her dress, at the pretty purple gingham material, and managed to look away just to look down at it. There was an oddness between her legs she was still aware of; a thickness, a foreign strangeness. And just as soon as she focused on it, her attention fluttered away like a butterfly all over again. “It’s your dress, Claire. A pretty pretty dress for a pretty pretty girl.” “For a pretty pretty girl…” Claire mused quietly, trying to see if the words fit as well as the dress did. “That’s right, darling! You’re Nana’s Pretty Girl! How’s your drawing coming?” “Drawing…?” Claire felt ever more confused, but her eyes scanned the floor where she was sitting for any sort of answer and found a sheet of paper with a crude drawing of a three stick figures in dresses, holding hands. “Oh!” Suddenly, Claire was awash with enthusiasm and excitement as she started to point fervently at the paper. “This is… um… this is um…” And just as quick as the excitement came, it gave way to foggy confusion. Quicker still, a three-tone chime sounded in the room and every single person paid attention. Claire couldn’t be sure what it meant, but as sure as she knew Nana loved her, she knew that the tone was important! “It’s time for your favorite game, darling, you should hurry!” Nana encouraged her, and Claire nodded. She knew which place she liked the most. The one with the lilac game controller, the one next to the fingerpaints and the fairy wings. Quick as she could, she crawled over to the small, curved screen by the nearby wall and sat herself down in front of the display, taking the oversized controller in her hands. An image of a bunny came to life, and Claire heard herself giggling happily. Colors flicked up on the screen, and she pushed the buttons, and her mind floated away into a happy bliss of lights and colors and instructions. * * * “I dun’ feel good, Nana…” There weren’t any sounds around her anymore, just the walls of the Lilac Room. Claire sat upon the bed, and Nana sat next to her. How had she gotten here? How long had it been? Her tummy twisted in anxiousness, and she squeezed her thighs tight around what she knew for a fact was her diaper. That made sense. “You need to go for another swim, darling, that’s all. Are you ready?” “A swim…?” “Into The Blue.” Claire might not have been feeling good, but those words made the most sense to her. She loved The Blue, almost as much as she loved her Nana and her Momma. The idea of getting to visit made her giggle happily, and it took all her energy to steel herself and focus and calm, before obediently staring into Nana’s eyes. * * * “I’m a baby.” “I’m a little baby.” “I love my Momma.” “I love my Nana.” “I can’t take care of myself.” “I’m a baby.” “I’m a good little baby.” “I love my dresses.” “I love my diapers.” “I’m helpless.” “I’m a baby.” “I’m a dumb and happy little baby.” “I love being a baby.” “I love being dependent.” “I’m too pretty for thoughts.” “I’m a baby.” “I’m a diaper-dependent, incontinent, devoted little baby.” “I love my Momma.” “I love my Nana.” “They do the thinking, Claire does the stinking.” “I’m a baby.” “I’m a beautiful, brilliant baby bunny.” “I’m too pretty for thoughts.” “I’m helpless, obedient, pretty, and submissive.” “Thoughts for for grown-ups, diapers are for Bunny.” “Bunny obeys.” “Bunny listens.” “Bunny is a baby.” “Bunny is better this way.” * * * “I’ma bunny…baby…baby bnuuy…” Claire wasn’t sure why she said those words, but her thoughts swirled with words just like those, and each one of them felt as true and genuine and real as her looking at the grass and saying it was green. And Bunny was so good at colors! That’s why she wore a purple dress in her drawing, and Nana wore yellow, and Momma wore teal. Bunny was in the middle, holding hands, and that was the best bestest place for her! “Nananananana!” Claire giggled as she felt Nana lean down next to her and slip fingers under her dress to check her diapers. Bunny wore diapers. Claire was Bunny and she loved her diapers because of course she did! There was a heavenly and familiar musical chime, and she didn’t even need to be told – she had to get a best high score with the pretty rabbit! She hadda get to 72! Claire crawled across the foam tiled floor and plopped down between two other babies that were just like her, and she took the purple controller awkwardly in her hands. “Bunn--nnyyyy!” She giggled at the heterochromatic rabbit and pressed all her buttons just the way she was told. Bunny loved to be obedient! Helpless and Obedient and Pretty and Submissive. Bunny HOPS! * * * “Oh my goodness, darling, someone’s a stinky little princess, isn’t she?” “I can’ helps it Nana… I was sleepsin an’ I’ma baby…” “That’s right, darling! Messing in your sleep during nap time is very normal for a girl your age.” Distantly, a part of her brain told Bunny that she didn’t used to do that. That she didn’t used to play with the others until she got tired, and then go to sleep on the floor in the playroom, and then poop her diapers. But that didn’t make any sense at all, and that was why Bunny didn’t do the thinking. Bunny was too pretty for thoughts, after all. Helplessly, she let Nana pick her up and put her against her hip. Had Nana always been so big? It didn’t matter. All grown-ups were much bigger than Bunny was, and that was because and also proved the fact that, she was a baby. Bunny and Baby both started with a B, and she sure didn’t know many more letters than that, so it had to be true. Obediently - as though this routine had happened a thousand times - she cuddled into Nana like a koala as she was carried over to the changing room. Prettily, she smiled. Her giggle was so vacant, and her eyes were glossy and happy and empty. Bunny sucked her fingers all the way there, until Nana put her binkie back between her lips. Submissively, she laid down on the padded changing table and kicked her feet happily. “You’ll be ready to go home soon, and see your Momma. Won’t that be wonderful?” “Yuh yuh yuh! I wanna see my Momma ‘cause she’s a good an’ I love her an’ an’ an’!” “And she’ll be so proud of how your conversion is progressing, darling.” “Yuh yuh yuh Momma gonna love my this.” While babbling back and forth with her Nana, Claire knew a few things. She knew that this adult woman was changing her very mushy diaper that she had no recollection of using, and that there were countless others who could just look over and see. She knew that she’d gotten so much smaller since being here, and she knew that she needed her diapers beyond doubt. She knew that she heard Nana’s voice in her head, and her words were always the right thing to do. She knew that she was a baby girl. She knew that she loved her Momma. She knew how much she loved to play her bunny game on the screen, and how much she loved her binkie, and how much she loved her drawings. She knew how much happier she was now. And she knew how much many more happy it made her to be told what to do. Burning deep inside of her, Bunny knew she was created to please and fulfill and make people happy. “All changed!” Nana smiled, patting the front of Bunny’s diaper with a sense of accomplishment. Already, Bunny couldn’t wait to get down off the changing table and get back to playing. “Nanananana I wan’ play an’ I wan’ draw an’ I wan’ make more drawings for Momma!” “Well you’d better hurry, Bunny, you might see your Momma sooner than you think.” With her brown eyes filled with determination, Bunny nodded her head earnestly. “Bnuuy will draw lots of the pictures an’ make lots of good an’ give Momma LOTS of smiles!” True to her Nana’s prediction, it wouldn’t be too much longer before Bunny’s Momma came to get her, and ordinarily that moment of parting would have been a bittersweet one indeed. Of all the caregivers at the conversion nursery, Nana was most known for her imprinting on her charges and sending them back out into the world was always an event of mixed feelings. That made it especially wonderful that Claire was to be a part of a new program where she’d have a state-appointed caregiver relocated to live just across the street from her and to assist her Momma in her continuing development. And, of course, it only made sense for her appointed caregiver to be her Nana who she already loved very, very much. So as Bnuuy drew another picture of herself with her Momma to one side and her Nana to the other, as she hummed and wriggled her diapered bottom as she wet herself without a care in the world, she’d occasionally mutter a few words to herself and giggle. “’…an’ they liveded happy evers afters…” [End.]