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18-year-old Benjamin has just been evicted from the college dorms after he has failed out of college for the semester. He sits in the student lounge with his bags while he figures out his next moves. His former professor Megan is talking to her faculty friend and sees him sitting alone. She is confused because he is supposed to be in her class for the semester. "Hi Ben. I missed you in my class this semester. Are you okay?"

I Don't Want to Be Big Cathy is an eight-year-old English girl. Cathy's parents are both doctors and separated. She is small for her age but feels pressured to be big and sensible. She doesn't want to be. When her mother goes to help in a disaster zone and her father is not available, she is sent off to Australia to stay with her Granddad. She has recently started wetting the bed at night and is mortified when that happens at Granddad's house. But Granddad's reaction is not at all what Cathy feared or expected. Chapter 1 "Did you see the news about the outbreak in the earthquake zone Dad?" Hank's daughter was on the phone. It was a fairly rare occurrence and when she did call, she never wasted time on salutations or small talk, often starting out like they where in the middle of a conversation. "Nope – none of our TV stations picked up on that one", Hank replied. Nor had he expected them to – it was Ashes Test Cricket week after all, so something as insignificant as a cholera epidemic added to the already abject misery of some villagers in northern Pakistan was unlikely to get a mention. "But I did get a news-flash from MSF this morning on the e-mail," he added. "I've sent off a sum." Hank was wealthy and could afford to be generous. "Oh goodie," his daughter said. "You'll be paying my salary!" Hank was not surprised. Camilla had studied medicine not to become rich but to make a difference and this was not the first time she had been posted by Médecins Sans Frontières amongst the neediest of the world. She was an expert on cholera management and her early involvement was unsurprising. "Will Cathy be staying with Kamal then?" Hank asked. His daughter and her husband had been separated for several years, but they had a very civil relationship for the sake of their daughter. Cathy was born with serious health problems, and it was probably only because both her parents were doctors, and very good doctors at that, that she was now completely healthy – if still very small for her 8 years. But the process had taken its toll on her parents' relationship, and they had separated, but worked in the same city (at different hospitals) and could thus share in their daughter's upbringing. "No, that's the problem Dad," Camilla said. "Kamal's not available. He went home to visit his folks for New Year, and I can't reach him. I tried to call his sister to get in touch, but I obviously got nowhere with her." Hank sighed. Kamal's sister had always hated Camilla with a vengeance. She never wanted her brother to marry a (nominally) Christian, thoroughly western, highly educated, and liberated woman. She was close to the cousin who believed she should have had 'first dips' at Kamal and had actively been sabotaging the fragile marriage, urging her brother do divorce Camilla and relocate to Pakistan. Hank knew his son-in-law well enough to know that was not going to happen. Nor would Camilla take up with anyone else, but he despaired at the two of them not patching up their differences. It was mainly pride that kept them apart; they could be so stubborn. "And?" Hank teased. He knew what was coming, but he wasn't letting his daughter off the hook that easily. "Dad, could she stay with you?" Camilla was almost pleading. "Bringing her with me is not an option." "Of course not," Hank agreed – shuddering at the thought of bringing a small child to a cholera-ravaged earthquake zone. "She is more than welcome, you know that. How do we work this?" With Camilla in the UK and Hank in Australia, the logistics were kind of daunting. "Eh, we're booked on a flight to Sydney via Singapore tonight," Camilla admitted. "If you can pick her up in Kingsford Smith then I can get a flight back to Karachi 4 hours later." "Short and sweet," Hank said with a laugh. He should have known his daughter well enough to know it was all planned. "I'd better book domestic flights right away. How is Cathy, by the way? Anything I need to know about?" "Not really," Camilla said evasively. "We've been having a bit of toilet troubles recently, but I guess it is all about attention seeking." "'Toilet troubles'?" Hank repeated. "Yes, well, you know, being wet at night again," Camilla said, sounding exasperated. "Not a problem," Hank said. "I know a thing or two about wet beds." Camilla didn't comment. She had conveniently repressed the fact that she was in night diapers, or nappies as they are called in Australia, until after her tenth birthday. And Hank didn't press the point. He had solemnly promised his daughter many years ago never to tell anyone and he was a man to keep his promises. Chapter 2 "Granddad!" The small girl's thrill cry of delight made everyone in the busy airport turn to look as she launched herself at the tall grey-haired man just outside the restricted arrival zone. She was very pretty with dark brown hair and eyes. She looked to be about 5 years old, and the man easily caught her and swirled her around. "Hi Pumpkin," he gushed. "It's so good to see you." "I am going to stay with you while Mummy helps the sick people," she said seriously, clinging to Hank like lichen. "That's right sweetheart," Camilla said. She had now caught up with her daughter, pushing a trolley with a large amount of luggage. "Granddad will look after you." She embraced her father too. "Thanks for helping out." Hank smiled. A widower and semi-retiree, he certainly had the time. He saw his only child and grandchild much too rarely, so he was happy with this opportunity. He occasionally did consultancy work, but not much in the summer – and most of it he could do from home. "Any time, for however long," he said with conviction. "When will you come and get me again?" Cathy asked her mother. "I don't really know," Camilla admitted. "It depends on how long it takes to stop the disease." "Will I have to go to school while I'm here?" Cathy demanded. "Hardly," her grandfather laughed. "It's summer holidays here you know. School's out for many weeks." "Silly, it is Christmas Holidays," Cathy laughed. "Sure is," Hank replied. "But down here we have Christmas in the summer." They had a meal together in the airport before Camilla had to check in again for her flight back to Karachi and Hank and Cathy transferred to the domestic terminal. Hank noticed that Camilla constantly urged Cathy to go to the bathroom – something that obviously pained the girl. Even as they hugged their farewell hugs, Cathy was urged to remember a toilet stop before the flight. "She does go on a bit about it, doesn't she?" Hank said conspiratorially when they walked towards the transfer train. Cathy looked up at him shyly. "I guess..." she faltered. She'd had a small accident on the interminable flight from London to Singapore so perhaps her mother had a point. The flight to Canberra was on a small turboprop with no direct access from the terminal, so as they were boarding they went outside for the first time and the heat of the Australian high summer hit Cathy like a brick wall. "It is summer," she exclaimed. "I thought you were only teasing." Hank laughed and explained all about different seasons on different hemispheres. During the flight he explained a lot about Australia, including its unique and not always harmless wildlife. The noise in the small aircraft, and the excitement of it all, kept Cathy awake, but once they had landed in Canberra, found Cathy's bags and Hank's car, Cathy was visibly flagging. It was only mid-morning, but her internal clock said late evening and before they were even out of the parking house, she was fast asleep. She woke up long enough when they arrived at Hank's house on the other side of the Australian Capital to take in the strange sounds and smells outdoors and to appreciate the pleasant room that was to be hers for the next while. "It used to be your mum's room when she was a girl," Hank said. "Uh huh," Cathy said. Hank stripped her down to her underwear, tucked her in and tip-toed out of the room. Cathy's last conscious thought was how nice the bedding was – very pink and very girlish and pleasant smelling. There was a crinkling noise when she moved, but before she could work out why she was out of it. Hank returned a little later and unpacked Cathy's suitcases, transferring her clothes to cupboards and drawers. It was all so small – and much too warm for the season. 'Miss perfect organizer must have forgotten about Australian summers', Hank chuckled to himself. He would have to do something about Cathy's wardrobe quickly. Chapter 3 Hank didn't want Cathy to swap day and night, so he intended to let her sleep until mid-afternoon, tire her out with some activity and hope she could then sleep a normal night's sleep. Kids usually get over jet-lag easier than adults anyway, so he wasn't concerned. He was working on a consultancy report in his office and kept an eye on the clock, deciding it was nearly time to wake up Cathy when a pitiful cry was heard from her room. Hank rushed in and found her sitting up in bed crying inconsolably. "What's the matter Pumpkin?" he asked. "Did you have a bad dream?" "No," she wailed. "I, I, I wet the bed." Indeed she had. The bedding was drenched. "Is that all?" he asked. "I thought something had happened to you!" He picked her up, carried her to the bathroom and started running a bath. "Bubbles?" he asked and held a bottle of strawberry scented bubble soap to her nose." "Yes please," she whispered shyly. He added the soap, frothed it up to a generous layer of foam, stripped off her wet underwear and plunked her in the bath. She sighed with pleasure. "Nice, isn't it?" he said with a smile. "Can you promise me not to fall a sleep" he asked. She nodded and he left her alone for a while. When he returned a little later, he brought a large fluffy towel and the lightest of her clothes. He lifted her out of the bath, rubbed her dry and got her dressed. The accident wasn't mentioned. Cathy was confused. If it had happened at home her mother would have been going on and on about it, but Granddad didn't seem to care. "Want to go and see some of the local wildlife?" he asked. Cathy nodded shyly, took the proffered hand gratefully and walked out in the scorching hot afternoon. They walked to a local nature area that separated Hank's suburb from the next. There was a small stream running through it and a group of small kangaroos were grazing the lush grass. Flocks of colourful Eastern Rosellas were foraging the shrubs and trees. Grandfather and granddaughter sat down companionably on a log, drank water Hank had brought and studied the kangaroos – who on deciding that Hank and Cathy were harmless had returned to eating. Growing up in a large UK city, this was the closest Cathy had ever been to wild animals – or indeed any animals apart from visits to the zoo. The heady scents of flowering trees and the loud noise of insects added to the mystique. Cathy was enchanted, but she could also feel her bladder pressing and reluctantly asked Hank if they could go home again. She just made it to the bathroom. Hank had found some of Camilla's old toys and urged Cathy to play with them while he cooked an early dinner. Cathy readily agreed – she was especially attracted to a near life-size baby doll. It could be "fed" water from bottles and would "wet" itself shortly after. The original toy nappies of poor quality were long gone, but Hank's wife had been a neo-natal nurse and had gotten hold of some proper miniature nappies that fitted just fine. Cathy was endlessly fascinated – and, like all children through the ages, was thrilled to play with toys that had been her mother's. They ate dinner, Hank read an exciting Australian children's book for Cathy and before long she was tired enough to go to bed. When Hank removed the bedspread Cathy was momentarily confused that the bedding was the same as earlier in the day. Crisp, clean, and sweet smelling; it was like the wetting episode hadn't happened at all. She let herself be tucked in, once more briefly wondered about the crinkling sound – and fell into deep sleep. Chapter 4 To her despair, Cathy was drenched again when she woke up next morning. "Granddad," she cried out and within moments Hank was there. He had in fact checked up on her a few minutes before and was forewarned, so he simply lifted her up, carried her out into the bathroom, stripped her out of her wet underclothes and plunked her into the waiting strawberry-scented foam bath. He kissed her on the top of her head and said "Breakfast when you've finished your bath. I was thinking pancakes today." Cathy was confused. Not one harsh word. No scolding. Nothing. And her favourite food for breakfast. When Hank returned a little later with a towel and some clothes, he picked her out of the bath, dried her and dressed her. "We got to get you some summer clothes today," he said. "It seems you mother forgot about the season thing. Silly mummy." Cathy giggled and gleefully agreed. They shopped in an air-conditioned shopping complex some distance from Hank's home, requiring a fair bit of driving. Hank decided to let Cathy choose what she wanted. He was concerned that her small size would mean she wouldn't be able to get the 'tween' stuff he expected her to choose. He needn't have worried; on the contrary: Cathy went for the little-girl stuff in bright colours (lots of pink) and wanted skirts and dresses only, no trousers, not even shorts. For accessories she again chose the brightly coloured stuff and wanted a lot of hair elastics to put her hair into pigtails. She got sandals and snickers and after a light lunch at the centre they drove home. She fell asleep in the car. Hank could see her nodding, her head getting heavier and heavier. Her right hand drifted up to her mouth, she sucked on the thumb and fell asleep. At an intersection, the stop/start eco engine cut out and Hank could just hear the hissing sound from Cathy's crotch as the hated jeans darkened. "Oh well, never mind," Hank thought. The upholstery of the child seat is easy to wash. They have to be. Cathy was mortified when she woke up – and once more confused by her grandfather's complete lack of concern or anger. "You get to wear one of the new skirts sooner," he said cheerfully as he led her to the bathroom and quickly and effectively rinsed her with the shower head. He decided that the car seat had gotten so little on it that it could be wiped with a very wet cloth and left to dry in the sun. Next he retrieved this morning's bed linen that had been washed and left to dry on the line outside. He folded it up neatly and put it in a drawer with several sets of the same pattern, resolving the mystery that had so intrigued Cathy. She also saw the rubber-backed mattress protectors, answering the question about the crinkling sound. But one thing she didn't understand: Granddad was so calm about it all! She played with the baby-doll all afternoon, taking it for a walk around the block in a lovely play-pram. They had dinner, read stories, and Cathy was off to bed. Chapter 5 Cathy was soaked once more the next morning. "Granddad," she called – this time with less despair in her voice. "I wet the bed again." "Did you sweetheart?" Hank said, appearing in the door. "Poor you. We'd better get you out of the wet things and have you washed." Cathy could contain it no more. "Granddad, how come you're not angry with me?" she asked. "Angry?" Hank repeated as if not understanding. "Angry about what?" "Angry with me, you know, wetting the bed," Cathy said. "Mummy always gets so upset with me," she added barely over a whisper. "But why should I get angry with you?" Hank asked. "It's not like it is your fault, is it?" "Mummy says big girls don't wet their beds – or their pants, like I did yesterday. Only little girls do that..." Cathy trailed off, tears trickling down her cheeks. "That's not true, is it?" Hank countered. "Huh?" Cathy asked, completely confused. "Little girls don't wet their beds and pants, do they?" Hank asked. "I don't understand," Cathy started. "Only big girls do that. Little girls wet something else, don't they?" Hank asked gently, holding up the baby-doll which was 'dressed' in only a nappy. "Oh, I suppose," Cathy said while the implications of that sunk in. "Besides, I don't want to be big..." she muttered in so low a voice that Hank could only just hear her. He picked her up, took her to the bathroom, undressed her and plunked her in the waiting bath. "I'll go get breakfast ready," he said and left Cathy to enjoy the strawberry scented foam. Hank had to work that morning, so Cathy played – mostly with the baby doll – but after lunch they walked over to a playground in the next suburb. It was a very nice playground with lots of activities and lots of other children. Cathy quickly got over her shyness and started playing with a group of young children while Hank sat on a bench in the shade and talked to the other adults, mainly mothers. Cathy was so absorbed with the playing that she missed the signals from her bladder. As she got up from squatting next to some of her new friends, she felt a spurt of pee escaping, but it was absorbed by her little cotton panties. She squeezed her pelvis hard and stopped the flow, but she knew she would need a toilet – and fast. She ran over to Hank. "Granddad, I need to pee." Hank could see from her little dance that she was serious and rushed her over to the service block at the far end of the playground. To his despair they were met by large "Closed for repairs" signs on all three toilet doors – women, men and disabled alike. "It seems we're out of luck Pumpkin. Do you think you can hold on until we get back?" Hank asked. "No," Cathy said. Tears were forming at the corner of both eyes. "Tell you what," Hank said. "Go sit on the grass over there and make sure you are not sitting on you skirt. Then just let go. The grass won't mind and, in that way, only your panties get wet." Cathy looked startled but then nodded and did as her grandfather had suggested. She sat down on the grass at the edge near the flowerbed carefully spreading out the skirt. It felt strange and for a while she couldn't will her bursting bladder to let go. Then she put her right thumb in her mouth, relaxed and moments later the flow started. When she had finished, she got up, looked around furtively to see that no one had noticed anything, and walked over to Hank. "Let's go home," Hank said and offered his hand. Cathy grabbed it and they walked off. She looked very small, and her gait was a little strange from the wet panties, but her skirt was quite dry. She was deep in thoughts. "I guess I am a big girl after all," Cathy suddenly said with a giggle when they were almost home. "What do you mean?" Hank asked slightly confused. "I wet my pants just like big girls do," Cathy said with another giggle that turned into a laugh. Hank laughed too. "Yup, so you did." He cleaned her up with the shower head, once more eliciting loud giggles. "It tickles!" she squealed, but she didn't want him to stop. Chapter 6 While dinner cooked in the oven and Cathy watched some children's TV, Hank slipped out to the local shops for some quick purchases. When it was time to put Cathy to bed after dinner and reading, Hank picked her up, looked her in the eyes and asked "OK, little girl or big girl?" Cathy was a first confused, but then she got it. She looked into her grandfather's mild grey eyes, seeing nothing but love and affection. "Little girl, please," she whispered. "OK", Hank said. "Let's clean your teeth and then come with me to your bedroom." Wearing only a tee-shirt, Cathy was placed on a towel on the bed and Hank proceeded to rub cream into her nappy area, then sprinkled her liberally with baby powder before putting a Pampers size 6 years on her. He then tucked her in. "Sleep tight Pumpkin," he said. "This time you will wake up dry." Falling asleep was not easy though – the forgotten sensation of being in nappies took some time to get used to. There was an additional crinkle when she moved around, but first and last she felt warm, snug, and safe. Not being in a wet bed meant the Cathy slept much longer. Hank had expected that and didn't wake her up before nine. "Good morning, Pumpkin," he said. "Slept well?" "Yes Granddad," Cathy said happily, stretching out – only now feeling the heavy nappy around her waist. "Eh, my nappy is very, 'eh, wet..." she trailed off. "Sure," Hank said. "That's what it's there for. Your bath is ready." He picked her up, carried her to the bathroom, stripped her of her tee-shirt and removed the well used nappy before plunking her in the bath. So went the following week. The nappies solved Cathy's night-time problems and her day time was full of fun and adult attention. Hank and Cathy played, read stories, visited the sites of the Capital, and had a great time. When Hank had to do some work, Cathy was very good at entertaining herself. On one occasion Hank had to call on a client, but she was home too having school aged kids as well. Her just teenaged twin daughters made much of Cathy – offering to baby-sit 'any time'. Mid-week late one night Camilla rang on a very bad satellite phone connection. She sounded despondent. "If Hell exists on Earth, it is here," she sighed. Hank who knew his daughter's usually unbreakable resilience was concerned. He sent another large sum to MSF – it was all he could do. Except of course assuring his daughter that Cathy was doing very well. "Any problems?" Camilla asked just before the call broke up. "None," Hank assured. "None whatsoever. And I've updated her wardrobe for the climate..." "Ups, yeah, I guess the suitcase was more geared for the winter holiday in Brittany we were planning on," Camilla said sounding fairly sheep-faced through the static. "Not to worry," her father assured her. "We're doing great." He didn't know if she had heard him though. The line was now dead. On Friday Cathy asked if they could go to 'the great playground' once more. Hank readily agreed, but remembering last week's episode and being fairly certain that no further work would have been done on the toilet facilities, he asked Cathy if perhaps she would like to wear a nappy – 'just in case'. After a bit of thought Cathy agreed. It felt strange to have a nappy on during daytime and Cathy was adamant she wouldn't need it, having gone to the toilet just before they went out. But once at the playground she forgot all about it. Several of her new friends from the week before were there and they quickly established a good game. On occasion they would 'check base' with their respective adults for a hug, a snack, or a drink of water, but otherwise they looked after themselves. "Your... ?." A woman started after Cathy had darted back to the sandpit. "Granddaughter", Hank offered. "Your granddaughter is a real cutie," the woman resumed. "And her language is really advanced for her age." Hank smiled. In her pink skirt, pink t-shirt, pink sandals and pigtails held by pink elastics with large pink plastic hearts Cathy didn't look a day over five. He simply nodded. "But she is still in nappies?" the woman asked. "Cathy has the occasional day-time accidents," Hank conceded. "And with the toilets here out of order, we took the precaution." "Wise," the woman agreed. "I wish I could get my Jimmy to be as sensible. He is also five and I have all kinds of problems when we are out for a long time, on road trips and so on. He absolutely refuses to wear a nappy. I can't count the number of times we've ended up with wet pants. I tried trainer pants, but he won't have a bar of those either." "Oh, we have no problems in that respect," Hank said. "Cathy would rather have a nappy on than wet clothes." At exactly that moment Cathy, hitherto completely absorbed in the game, suddenly realized that her bladder was full beyond capacity. Almost involuntarily she put her right thumb in her mouth and released the contents of her bladder into the nappy. The pee was absorbed quickly, leaving a warm feeling. Jimmy, sitting next to her didn't notice what happened to Cathy. But moments later, to his chagrin, he released a torrent of pee himself, drenching his underwear, shorts, socks, and sandals. "Mummy," he wailed and ran over to the bench. Cathy followed him. "See what I mean?" the woman said in a hopeless tone. "Better get you home buster," she said to her son. "Why couldn't you be a smart as your friend?" "I couldn't help it Mummy," Jimmy sobbed. "Neither could Cathy, but she was smart enough to be prepared," Jimmy's mother said, eyeing Cathy's visibly sagging nappy. "Prepared?" Jimmy sniffled. "Yes – she's wearing a nappy because she knows there is no toilet here," the woman said. "Really?" Jimmy sniffled. "Really," Hank confirmed. Cathy blushed slightly, but she didn't feel nearly as embarrassed as she thought she would have. As the sobbing and dripping Jimmy was let home by his mother, Hank turned to Cathy. "Sorry about that Pumpkin. Jimmy's mother spotted your nappy herself. I didn't know she was going to tell Jimmy." "That's OK Granddad," Cathy said. "It was a good idea to wear it." "You mean it is wet?" Hank said only now discovering the sag. "Oh, yes, I can see that it is." "Uh huh," Cathy said. "Well, I have brought another," Hank said, "but there is really nowhere I can change you." "That's OK Granddad," Cathy said again. "With Jimmy gone I think I'd rather go home anyway. I'm kind of tired." They walked home in silence. When they got to the house, Hank took Cathy to the bathroom and removed the saggy nappy. He washed and dried her. Holding a pair of panties in his hand he suddenly remembered Cathy's comment. "You said you were tired. Do you want a nap?" "Uh huh," Cathy nodded, looking down. "Big girl or little girl nap?" Hank asked. Cathy looked up at her grandfather. He was offering something she hadn't dare ask for, but really wanted. "Little girl", she whispered. Hank undressed her, but on a fresh nappy and carried her to her bedroom. In the mid day heat, she didn't need any clothes and he just covered her with a sheet. "Sleep well Pumpkin," Hank said, kissing her forehead. "Granddad will be in his office working." "OK," Cathy said and rolled over on her side. The snug feeling of the nappy made her feel safe. Safe and loved. She put her thumb in her mouth and fell asleep. She woke up two hours later. Her bladder was bursting again. She once more put her thumb in her mouth and let go. She could hear the hissing sound of her pee streaming into the nappy and feel it getting warm and tight, but she didn't feel wet. She felt wonderful. 'I don't want to be big, ' she thought. Chapter 7 When Hank picked up Cathy after her little afternoon sleep the very wet and obviously still warm nappy was not mentioned. He had brought a warm washer and a towel, so he washed and dried her, then dressed her in panties and a summer dress. "Run a long and play," he said, "Granddad needs to work a few more hours." "OK," Cathy replied. "But don't forget we're watching that show on TV tonight." 'That show' was some inane awards show that had been heavily promoted for weeks now. Hank wasn't sure that Camilla would have let Cathy watch it back home, but then he was sure she wouldn't let her have nappies either. Besides, it was likely to be harmless. He simply nodded. After dinner, Hank said "OK; we can watch the show together, but you need to get ready for bed first in case you get sleepy." "Not fair," Cathy pouted. "You promised we could have snacks." "I did, and I keep my promises, but it would be easier to pop you in bed if all I have to do is brush your teeth. Capito?" Hank said in his best Godfather imitation. The reference was lost on Cathy, but she happily found her nightdress – and a nappy and the cream and powder and moments later Hank put a nappy on his granddaughter – like it was the most natural thing in the world. Snuggled up closely on the sofa, Hank and Cathy watched the show and pigged out on an orgy of snacks and drinks (beer for Hank, soda for Cathy). They enjoyed themselves immensely. To Hank's relief, the show's two hosts – a pair of well-known comedians – were doing a great job with good laughs for young and old alike. The show was very long and with all the drinks, Cathy bladder was soon uncomfortably full. She was squirming but didn't want to leave right now at the most exciting moment when the winner in the category that interested her the most was about to be announced. Cathy looked up at her grandfather. He had noticed the squirming and just nodded. Cathy bit her lip and squeezed her pelvis hard. Hank kissed her forehead and rubbed her stomach. Bowing to the inevitable, Cathy put her thumb in her mouth and let go. In addition to the sheer relief, she also felt that strange pleasure she had experienced earlier when she woke up and wetted herself deliberately in the afternoon. At the same time, her favourite singer won the award, and her happiness was complete. Shortly after she fell asleep in her grandfather's lap. She was only barely awake when Hank cleaned her teeth, changed her into a dry nappy and plunked her into bed a little while later. The following morning, Cathy woke up early. The nappy was wet but not very heavy or uncomfortable. She decided to get up and watch TV while her grandfather slept. She got herself some cereal with milk and happily watched the morning show for small children. When that finished, she went back to her room and started playing with the toys that had been her mother's. When Hank finally woke up and went to check on Cathy, he saw that she was already up, sitting on the floor playing with the baby doll. From the doorway he could see her now heavy nappy. She stopped the game, but her thumb in her mouth and moments later the hissing sound announced that once more his granddaughter had reverted to being a little girl. "How about you finish changing Dolly and then I change you?" Hank asked. Cathy swirled around startled. Was Granddad really going to let her be in nappies all the time, she wondered. It would seem so. "Yes please," she whispered. Moments later the heavy nappy was off her, she got washed, powdered, and had a fresh nappy on. "I'll make the breakfast and call you when it's ready," Hank said. Cathy just nodded, smiled, and resumed the game. She couldn't have been happier. She was allowed to be a little girl. She had a nappy on. Not for sleeping and not for going places. Just to use – like she was a baby. They did go places though – to a matinee of a popular children's film. Cathy nappy was quite dry when they headed out, but she got popcorn to snack on during the movie and a large soda that went down quickly because of the salty snack. The movie was exciting. Perhaps a little too exciting, Cathy thought and before long she climbed up on Hank's lap. At the scariest point, she got such a fright she momentarily lost her bladder control and let out a large squirt of pee in the nappy. She was just about to cry but then remembered there was nothing to cry about. "I got so scared I wet myself," she giggled in Hank's ear. "That's OK Pumpkin. Little girls can wet whenever they like. That's why they have nappies on," Hank whispered back. "Hmmm," Cathy agreed. She put her thumb in her mouth, snuggled closely into Hank and let go again, this time on purpose. That happy feeling returned. It returned again when she wet herself once more during the long drive home. "Do you need a change?" Hank asked when they were back at house. "Yes please," Cathy said and led her grandfather by the hand to the bathroom. It was a scorching hot day and Cathy ran around in just a nappy until dinnertime. For the rest of the day, when ever Cathy felt the slightest urge, she would simply let go. And there was plenty coming – with the warm weather, Hank ensured she was drinking a lot of liquid. Chapter 8 During the following week Cathy was a happy little nappy girl. At no point after she scare in the cinema was, she unaware of wetting the nappy. In fact, that was true for day and night alike. From Sunday onwards she woke up dry every morning – but with a very full bladder. She would put her thumb in her mouth, let go and get the happy feeling. She never wore panties during the day, only nappies. Whenever she felt the nappy was too full or uncomfortable, she would ask Hank for a change. He did so without any comments. To his quiet relief she would always do number two on the toilet, but that wasn't commented on either. Unlike his daughter who thought the wetting was attention grabbing, he was sure that his granddaughter had been under a lot of pressure to 'be big'. What she needed was being allowed to be a little girl for a while. This Aussie Summer with Granddad gave her exactly that. On the Friday Hank had an unavoidable social/professional engagement. Remembering the sincere sounding offer by the teenaged twins, he rang his client, their mother, and asked if they could babysit. Assuring them that he wouldn't be far away and wouldn't stay out late, the mother's reservations were overruled by the girls' enthusiasm. The client was somewhat concerned about letting a pair of 13-year-olds looking after 'such a small girl', but Hank reassured her that Cathy as in fact 8, nearly 9, only very small for her age. "Bethany and Denise are going to look after you on Friday evening," Hank said when the agreement had been struck. Cathy was happy – she had liked the big girls a lot, but then she got concerned. "What about my, you know, my..." she trailed off and looked down. It was another very hot day, so all she wore was a nappy. Hank got it. "Your nappies?" he asked. "Not a problem. Babysitters need to take care of that all the time. Lots of kids are in night-nappies well into their school years and they will just be told you wear them during the day too." "OK," Cathy said. Granddad was so cool about it all. She hoped Bethany and Denise would be too. She could give up the nappies for an evening of course, but she didn't want to. She didn't have to. Bethany and Denise were way cool about it. Cathy was the little sister they never had, and they enjoyed looking after her. Even when told that Cathy was actually close to 9, not 5 that didn't change anything. They 'babied' her happily and nearly fought over who should change her. "How come you're wearing them now?" Denise asked when she had a moment alone with Cathy. She was more than a little curious about this nappy-business. "You didn't wear them when you visited us last." "I, uh, kind off, you know, kept being wet at night," Cathy said. "And then Granddad got them for me. And they feel good, and I fell, you know, safe." "And so you got to wear them during the day too?" Denise breathed. This was a concept she had never thought of. It had a strange appeal to her. "Yes," Cathy whispered. "It's nice not having to be big." That hit home. Unlike her twin-sister who was enjoying puberty – Bethany couldn't wait for her miniscule breasts to reach her mother's generous E-cup size; Denise had no desire to leave her childhood behind just yet. When Cathy was asleep and Bethany was watching TV, Denise snuck out to the bathroom, pinched a couple of nappies, and hid them in her bag. She was aware that they were too small for her, but she hoped she could somehow wear two and try out what it was like being a little girl herself. Hank actually spotted the nappies when he paid the girls for their babysitting duty a little later and Denise very reluctantly had to get her purse out. Luckily neither Bethany nor their mother who had come to pick them up noticed and Hank just winked to the blushing girl. Chapter 9 Cathy's happy 'extra summer' continued. Because of her small size, she had been held back from school a year – which was a mistake since she was exceedingly bright. Nevertheless, Camilla had promised the school that Cathy would keep up her school work while away, and so for an hour or so every day Cathy would sit at the table in the kitchen doing her year 5 school work, often 'dressed' in nothing but a nappy. Hank would watch her work on some problem in deep concentration, then see her 'faze out', her thumb drifting to her mouth and the tell-tale hissing announcing another wet nappy – before she resumed the work. Then, after a nappy change, a snack, a mid-day snooze and more often than not another nappy change, Cathy would resume playing like a five-year-old. She couldn't have been happier. All good things come to an end, the saying goes and mid February a very upbeat Camilla was on the phone again. "We did it Dad, we did it!" she exclaimed. "No new cases for the last week and no deaths for twice that. We'll hang in here for another week just to be sure, but then we're coming out to get Cathy." "That's lovely sweetheart," Hank said with feeling. "Well done indeed. Let me know when you get her so we can go up to Sydney to meet you." "Oh, don't worry about that Dad. We'll come and stay for a couple of days with you," Camilla said. "We'll let you know when we're there." "That would be lovely," Hank said in delight. Before he could get a chance to inquire exactly what his daughter meant by 'we' the line went dead. 'I wonder, I just wonder, ' Hank thought to himself, but he didn't say anything to Cathy about that. He did tell her about her mother's impending return of course. Cathy was out-and-out happy about that, as Hank had confidently expected. He did mention the nappy situation though, leaving it as an open choice for Cathy what she wanted to do. "Oh, I think I'll stop wearing them," she replied after a moment's thought. "Mum wouldn't want me to wear them and I couldn't wear them to school when I get home." She added a little wistfully. "I'll miss not having to be big." "Oh, I think there will be other things to think about that will make you happy," Hank said. "But we'd better start toilet training you," he added. "Going from nappies around the clock to completely dry in a week will not be easy." "That's OK," Cathy said. "It's not like I don't know when I need to pee." "Is that so?" Hank said – feigning surprise. "What about in the nights?" he added, genuinely not knowing. "I, uh, I've been, you know, dry every morning for a long time now," Cathy stammered – now worried that her grandfather might finally be annoyed with her. "Super," Hank said with feeling. "That makes it much easier. Don't panic if you have an accident or two, but let's work on avoiding them – you know, drink less before bed and remember to go to the toilet." "Sure," Cathy said with a big smile and a conspiratorial wink. "No need to upset Mum." A bit over a week later – a completely dry week later, Cathy and Hank were standing on the porch watching out for cars arriving. When a mid-sized rental parked at the curb, Cathy was beside herself with excitement. Then her mother got out – on the passenger side, and a moment later a tall handsome dark-skinned man got out from the driver's side. "Mum – Dad!!!" Cathy screamed and rushed down to meet them. Her embrace of Camilla was warm and genuine, but then she launched herself in Kamal's arms and wouldn't let go. "Dad, Dad, Dad. You came home. With Mum!" she kept repeating in a high excited voice. "So that's what you meant by 'we'," Hank said in his daughter's ear. "I was hoping that. Didn't tell Cathy though. I was sure she would love the surprise." "Yes Dad," Camilla smiled at her father. "Kamal was my saviour. When it looked the bleakest – two of my staff desperately ill, the rate of infection still going up and people dying like flies around me, he came to my rescue out of nowhere. We worked and worked and worked and got the epidemic under control. And at the same time, we fell in love all over again." Hank looked hard at his daughter. She bit her lip, then corrected herself. "That's not true. I never stopped loving him. It was all my stubborn pride. I guess all I needed was some excuse to let go of the anger and resentment. He gave me that again and again 20 hours a day for several weeks. I have never been so exhausted and never been so much in love." Three days later the little family left for the UK, promising to be back soon. Hank felt a big hole in his heart. "Thanks for everything," Cathy said after bestowing her grandfather with a final wet kiss. "My pleasure Pumpkin," Hank replied. "There is always room for my little girl in my house." Only Cathy heard and understood the emphasis on little girl. Her mother had asked in a generic way if there had been 'any problems'. Hank simply replied, in complete accordance with the truth, that no, there had been no problems. Cathy had looked up and smiled. Her secret was safe – as she knew it would be. Chapter 10: nearly a year later "Do you really think it is a good idea to go bush in your condition?" Hank asked worriedly, eyeing his daughter's clearly swelling belly. "Don't be such a worrier Dad," Camilla replied. "I'm fine. Pregnancy is not an illness. Besides I'm only there for show." "For show?" Hank asked incredulously. "What's that supposed to mean?" "Well, you know how Polio was so very nearly eradicated – but then some illiterate village clerics in outback Nigeria, one of the last places on earth where it is still rampant, got it into their heads that the immunization program was a Christian conspiracy to make Muslim girls infertile – and we lost the chance." Camilla said. "Ouch," Hank exclaimed. "That kind of thing can be pretty difficult to overcome." "Exactly," his daughter agreed. "So we'll use the same kind of tactics." "Huh?" Hank asked, not getting it. "Yes, well, we will tell them that the conspiracy was really to prevent Muslims from being immunized so that only they will die. The new program is paid for by the Sultan of Brunei – the world's richest Muslim. All health workers are Muslim women from Malaysia – many of them visibly pregnant. And the lead doctor is a respected Muslim from Pakistan – your son in law, bringing his also visibly pregnant wife," Camilla said, patting her belly. "They'll buy that." Hank laughed. "That's clever – it might just work." "We sure hope so," Kamal said. "As you say, it is nearly impossible to debunk conspiracy theories. But your clever daughter suggested that we out-conspiracy the previous one, as it were. It could just do the trick." He looked lovingly at Camilla. "It is certainly worth a try," Hank agreed. "And I take it no one will mention that the Muslim Doctor's Doctor-Wife is no Muslim herself?" he laughed. "Nah, we'll skip that one," Camilla agreed. "But that leaves you with the onerous task of entertaining Cathy for another summer," she said lightly. "I think I'll manage," Hank said with a dramatic sigh. "If only just..." Cathy's mock-outraged play-punch made them laugh all-round. They had spent a wonderful Christmas together in Canberra and now it was time for Camilla and Kamal to leave. They got into the taxi after a last final round of farewell hugs. Hank was standing behind Cathy with his left hand on her shoulder. They were both waving. As the taxi disappeared round the corner and out of sight, Cathy right hand went to her mouth. She sucked her thumb and released her aching bladder, completely flooding her jeans, socks, and shoes. "Granddad," she whispered barely louder than the hissing sound from her crotch. "I wet myself." "So you did Pumpkin," Hank said, "so you did. We'd better get you cleaned up and put you in a nappy." "Will last year's nappies still fit?" Cathy asked, taking Hank's proffered hand and walking back to the house. She had grown a lot since she was in Australia last. "No, I don't think so, "Hank answered, "But the new ones I bought will. You'll like them – they have a pretty pink pattern on them. And I've bought some nice skirts for you too." Cathy smiled happily. This was going to be a great summer. She walked a little awkwardly in her drenched jeans. She couldn't wait to be a care-free little girl in nappies and skirts again.

Elizabeth or lizzie for short is a coo of a bank but the stress she is under at work is unbelievable. She decides to posh a ad online to find someone who will take care of her. What they don't know is that she is a adult baby.

Summer with Aunt Amanda by Spark Part 1 My mom was deployed to the Middle East the summer after I finished eighth grade. My mom was a single parent, so I went to stay with my Aunt Amanda for the summer. She lived in this remote mountain town, and I didn’t know any kids my age who lived near her house. I was fourteen, which made me too young to get a job, and too old for summer camp. I would spend all summer with my two younger cousins. Scott was seven years old, and Debbie was five. In truth, I liked my aunt, even though she still treated me like I was a little kid. For some reason, she didn’t realize I was a teenager and didn’t need to be supervised all the time. My mom warned me, “Tommy, I know it feels like Aunt Amanda treats you like a kid, but if you can show her that you’re mature, she promised to give you some more freedom and responsibility. But that means that you have to be helpful and respectful. You might need to help with your cousins and, of course, clean up your messes.” The truth was, despite being fourteen and entering high school, I acted more like a kid. My mom still had to remind me to brush my teeth and tell me to take a shower at night. She constantly had to tell me to put away my things, and I never did any chores without being told to. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to, but I just never thought about it unless she asked me. I also would pout and whine, and even tantrum, when I didn’t get my way. I don’t think I was a bad kid, but I was just really immature for my age. I’m not completely sure, but I think my mom hoped time with my aunt would help. My mom and aunt met halfway between their houses. Scott and Debbie were in the car with my aunt, and I noticed a diaper bag in the back of the car. That surprised me because I thought Debbie was already potty trained and figured Scott was too old for diapers, at least during the day. We did our goodbyes, and I took a seat in the passenger side next to my aunt for the three-hour drive to her house. Now, despite my mom’s warnings, I overindulged in chips and soda along the way, and my stomach was already rumbling when we got on our way. I figured it wasn’t an emergency yet. I didn’t want to ask my aunt to stop because she already warned me before we left. She asked, “Tommy, it’s a long drive, do you need to go potty before we leave?” That annoyed me and I replied, “I’m not a baby! I can hold it.” Aunt Amanda noted my sharp tone, “Ok, but remember, you can’t ask me to stop unless you go potty now.” The pressure grew and I tried to fart a little to relieve it, but it wasn’t just a fart. I felt something come out, and it wasn’t just a small leak. It was enough that I could feel it in my underwear, and it wasn’t long before I started to smell it. I was fourteen years old, and I just pooped my pants! I wanted my aunt to see me as a teenager and not just some little kid, but that wouldn’t be possible if she knew that I pooped my pants. I tried to be discrete, but Aunt Amanda noticed the odor. She asked, “Scotty, did you poop?” “No.” Aunt Amanda then asked, "Debbie?” “No, Mommy. I’m a big girl.” “I know you are, honey. It smells like somebody pooped, so we’re going to stop.” We pulled into a rest stop, and everybody got out. My aunt checked Scott and Debbie first. Scott didn’t poop, but he wet his Pull-Up and his mom said, “Scotty, that’s your second accident. That means that you need to go back to diapers. We’re going to take a break from potty training.” I tried to sneak off as she was dealing with Scott, but she saw me. “Where do you think you are going?” “I need to go to the bathroom?” “Not yet; I need to see if it was you.” “WHAT! Don’t treat me like a baby. I didn’t poop my pants!” My aunt shot me a stern look, “Do you need to go to time-out?” I shook my head and meekly said, “No.” “Ok then. I understand that you want me to treat you like a big kid, but I can’t treat you like a big kid unless you act like one. Do big kids throw tantrums?” “No.” “That’s right, and you just threw a tantrum, didn’t you?” “But …” I didn’t get a chance to finish my protest. “Did you just shout at me and cry that you didn’t poop?” I nodded. “If you didn’t, let me check.” “Please! Let me go to the bathroom. I’ll clean it up.” “Was it you?” I blushed and cried, “Only a little bit.” “So, it was you; why didn’t you say so?” “I was embarrassed.” She placed a change pad from the diaper bag in the back of her SUV and said, “Hop up so I can take care of your mess.” “Um. What? Can’t I just go to the bathroom and clean myself?” My aunt shook her head, “I’m afraid not, Tommy. I need to make sure you’re properly cleaned.” I protested, “I can do it myself. I’m not a baby!” I hoped that would make her realize that I didn’t need her to clean my butt, but she just rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Really? Do big kids poop their pants?” “It was an accident!” “Yeah, it was, and I need to make sure it won’t happen again.” “It won’t happen again, I promise. I’m not a baby; I’m fourteen years old.” By this point, I was whining and begging. Aunt Amanda shook her head and said, “Tommy, if you want me to treat you like a big kid, you have to act like a big kid. So far, I’ve seen no evidence that you can do that.” “What? I am a big kid. You can’t do this.” “Do big kids poop their pants?” I shook my head. “Do big kids pout and whine?” I cried, “I’m not pouting!” By this point, Aunt Amanda was tired of it, “Look! If you’re going to act like a baby, I’m going to treat you like a baby. I can’t potty train you if you’re not cooperating.” “I am potty trained. It was an accident.” She laughed and said, “I certainly hope so. I’d hate to think you did that on purpose. However, at my house, an accident means that you have to wear Pull-ups until you can show me that it won’t happen again.” She took a pacifier and ordered, “Open up.” I asked, “What’s that?” and as I did, she plopped the pacifier in my mouth. “That’s a pacifier. That’s what you get when you whine too much in my house. Keep that in your mouth until I take it out. Now be a good boy and lie down on the mat.” I resigned myself to having my aunt clean my messy bottom but pleaded for more privacy. In a muffled voice, because of the pacifier, I cried, “Can’t we do this in the baffroom?’ “I’m sorry honey, but you’re too old to take into the women’s bathroom. We have to do this out here.” “But you’ll see my --,” I was too embarrassed to say it in front of my aunt. Aunt Amanda grinned, “Honey, I’ve changed lots of little boys. I’ve even changed your diaper a few times.” I closed my eyes and let her lift my legs and clean my bottom, just like I was three years old. She finished wiping my bottom and then praised me, “You’re being such a good boy for me. It is so much easier when you’re not squirming.” She put my legs through a Pull-Up and then told me to lift up, so she could finish putting the Pull-Up on me. “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” “I guess so.” I suddenly realized that everybody would see me in just the Pull-Up when I got up to put on my shorts. I asked, “Can you help me with my shorts?” “You want me to help you get dressed?” “I don’t want anybody to see me in just the Pull-Up.” She nodded and then said, “Let’s see what you have in your bag. You can’t wear the ones you were wearing because they need to be cleaned.” After she finished, she helped me up and asked, “Are you going to be a good boy?” I nodded, and she took the pacifier out of my mouth and said, “Ok, that’s good. Keep this in your pocket to remind you what happens when you pout.” She then pointed to the package of Pull-ups and said, “These are just in case. You still need to use the potty. If you can use the potty for three days, I’ll let you wear underwear again. But, if you don’t, you are going to stay in diapers until I can potty train you. Scotty is going back to diapers because he wasn’t using the potty, and the same thing will happen to you.” Part 2 I realized that my aunt was crazy! She was completely nuts, but at fourteen years old, I didn’t have any recourse. I was in the middle of nowhere and couldn’t run away. I couldn’t fight back and change her mind. I could only stay out of her way and not rock the boat. Fortunately, I wasn’t going to keep pooping my pants and I hadn’t wet the bed since I was ten. My aunt promised to let me wear underwear again if I could stay dry for three days, which seemed easy. I expected my mom to flip out when she found out what my aunt did. It was a Monday, and my mom promised to call me on Wednesday after she got settled at her base. I just had to make it until then, and this would all be over. I felt sorry for Scott, especially when I noticed how his mom was treating him. She treated Scott like he was two years old. He had to stay close to an adult all the time and he didn’t have the same privileges that Debbie or I had. In fact, he had to sit in a highchair for dinner. I wasn’t sure if he could help it when he peed, and I wondered if he really did need diapers. I didn’t notice much at first, other than my aunt putting him in a diaper after she put me in the Pull-Up. He and Debbie both sat in car seats. He was kind of a small kid and still fit in a car seat, so that made sense to me. I remembered that I used a car seat when I was his age. He also had a sippy cup in the car, but Aunt Amanda would probably make me use a sippy cup as well. It wasn’t until we got to their house that I noticed anything. First, Aunt Amanda told me, “Tommy, you’re wearing Pull-ups, but I expect you to use the potty like a big kid. Do you want Auntie to help when you go potty?” I was trying to hide my annoyance, but my tone didn’t do much to hide it. “I can do it myself!” Aunt Amanda rolled her eyes and remarked, “Ok! Just remember to tell me when you go potty.” “WHY?” “Don’t yell at me. It’s not my fault you pooped your pants. Remember, if you want me to treat you like a big kid, you have to show me that you’re a big kid.” I huffed, “Fine! But why do I need to tell you when I go to the bathroom.” “I need to make sure you’re using the potty like you should.” I gritted my teeth and said, “Fine!” I needed to pee, and I had no intention of wetting the Pull-Up, not that I felt that was likely. I tried not to sound snarky, which is difficult for an annoyed fourteen-year-old. “Can I use your bathroom?” Aunt Amanda smiled, “Of course, honey. Remember, this is your house for the summer. It’s right down the hall.” I did my thing, and when I came out, she asked, “Did you go?” I rolled my eyes, “Yes.” “Did you pee or poop?” “I peed.” In a falsely excited voice that you would use if I was just learning to use the potty, my aunt cried out, “GOOD JOB! I’m so proud of you. Now, did you wash your hands?” In reality, I pulled my pants down low enough to aim (albeit my aim wasn’t all that great), zipped up, and left. I didn’t wash my hands, which was normal for me at the time. I replied in a halting and questioning tone, “Yes?” It sounded more like a question than a response, and I think my aunt knew I was lying. She looked at me and asked again, “Are you sure?” I gave away my deception with my stammer, “Um, uh.” “Why don’t you go wash your hands again? Remember, it’s very important to wash your hands after going pee-pee and poo-poo.” While I hated being talked to like I was a three-year-old, I knew that protests would get me nowhere. What I didn’t expect was that I would receive praise when I complied with my aunt’s absurd request. Aunt Amanda praised, “Thank you for being such a good boy; I’m glad you washed your hands.” I know this sounds strange, but I didn’t get much praise from adults back then. My mom tended to criticize me most of the time. She didn’t like my grades; she got mad when I played video games for long periods, and she was mad when I didn’t put away my things. It felt like anything I did was going to make her mad, and when she wasn’t mad, she ignored me. Even my teachers got upset with me, and when I was praised, it was backhanded praise. It was always something like; “See, look what you can do when you apply yourself.” Suddenly my aunt praised me twice in just a few minutes. Ok, it was for peeing in the toilet and washing my hands, but she sounded genuinely proud of me. My aunt changed Scott’s diaper in the living room, right in front of everybody. It seemed weird to me, but my aunt is crazy. It wouldn’t be unusual if he was only three years old, so my aunt didn’t think it was unusual now. At least, she acted like it was normal. Scott seemed resigned to his fate, although he begged me not to watch. Unfortunately, I couldn’t turn away. After his diaper was changed, Scott returned to his cheery self and asked, “Can Tommy and I go play in the yard?” They had a neat playset that he was excited to show me. My aunt shook her head, “I’m sorry, honey. Mommy has to put stuff away, and you need somebody to watch you.” He immediately protested, “But Debbie is playing outside.” “Debbie is a big girl, and big kids can play outside if they are careful.” “I’m a big kid.” Scott’s voice was more of a whine than a true protest, and I’m sure he knew what his mom would say next. “Do big kids wear diapers?” Scott smirked, “Sometimes?” “No, they don’t. Big kids use the potty. When you use the potty, you get big kid privileges.” I felt bad. A few years ago, Scott was still in diapers, but my aunt let him go outside as long as he stayed with me. I figured the same thing still applied and I said, “I can watch him.” “Sorry, but I don’t think so. You haven’t shown me that you are responsible enough yet.” “WHAT?” Aunt Amanda shot me a disapproving look and remarked, “Maybe if you can show me that you can handle responsibility, I’ll let you watch Scotty. But not yet.” She then looked over to Scott, whose face was disappointed, and said, “I’ll tell you what. Jessica is next door, and maybe she is willing to watch you while I get dinner ready.” Jessica looked close to my age. Based on her looks, I figured she was in middle school. Aunt Amanda asked Jessica, “Can you do me a favor? Scott wants to show his cousin the playset outside, but he’s been put back in diapers and doesn’t have big boy privileges.” Jessica smiled, “More accidents?” “I’m afraid so. He wet himself twice on the ride to pick Tommy up.” Jessica nodded and agreed to take us outside. It felt like she was babysitting me as well, which was strange. Jessica asked, “You look old enough to babysit; how old are you?” Now, I was somewhat embarrassed, but maybe I could impress her if she knew I was in high school. I guessed she was in eighth grade, and she might think it’s cool to date a kid in high school. That’s what boys my age should do, and I hoped that she could be my girlfriend for the summer. This summer might not suck so bad if I had a girlfriend. Unfortunately, I had no idea how to get a girlfriend, and I only wanted one because that’s what I thought every boy my age wanted. I confidently gloated, “I’m fourteen. I’m going to high school next year.” Jessica didn’t seem all that impressed with a fourteen-year-old who wasn’t even allowed to watch his younger cousin for a few minutes. “Really? Why didn’t Mrs. Whitmore let you watch Scott?” I shrugged and said, “I don’t know; I think she is mad at me.” “Already? What did you do?” I hoped that sounding like a bad boy would help my cause and responded, “She talked down to me, and I don’t let people do that. I’m not a little kid, so you got to treat me with respect.” “I see.” She smirked with a kind of mocking tone, and replied, “Well, I’m younger than you. I’m only thirteen, and I’m going into eighth grade.” She then noticed the elastic band of my Pull-Up peeking above my shorts. “Is that a Pull-Up?” My eyes grew big, and I tried to hide it, but I am terrible at lying. Everybody knows when I’m lying. “NO! Do you think I’m wearing Pull-ups?” “Whatever, dude. It looks like you are wearing Pull-ups.” “Well, I’m not.” “If you say so. Just remember, if you are, you still have to use the bathroom. Your aunt is really strict about that.” I shook my head and turned my attention to Scott. They did have a cool playset. It had a jungle gym, a tire swing, and a teeter-totter. If I was still a little kid, I would probably think it was the coolest thing, but I wasn’t supposed to be impressed with stuff like that at fourteen. Scott whined when his mom pulled out the highchair. “Please, Mommy. I don’t want to sit in the highchair.” Aunt Amanda put a pacifier in Scott’s mouth and said, “That’s enough whining out of you. If you want to be a big kid, you have to use the potty. If you keep whining, you are going to sit in your playpen until everybody finishes dinner.” While I did feel sorry for Scott, I knew it was a bad idea to argue with my aunt. I ate in silence, hoping to avoid making her mad. Fortunately, Aunt Amanda left me on my own, but she did have to remind me to clear my plate when I was done. I guess my mom was right; I wasn’t very responsible. We finished dinner, and Aunt Amanda announced, “Ok, kids, it is time to get ready for bed. Tommy, go take a shower and then put on your PJs.” “What? It’s only seven o’clock.” “Yes. It’s almost bedtime. Go shower and put on your pajamas.” Her tone was getting more and more insistent. “I don’t wear pajamas. I don’t have any.” Aunt Amanda looked disgusted. “You don’t. That’s not going to work. It’s too late tonight, but tomorrow we need to buy you some pajamas. I guess you can wear one of Uncle Ron’s tee shirts tonight.” She waved her hands and warned, “Now take off your clothes, and go take a shower. Don’t make me ask you again!” I knew it was a bad idea to test Aunt Amanda any further, so I stripped down to let her inspect my Pull-Up. She praised, “It’s still dry; that’s good. Hopefully, you’ll stay dry for three more days, and you can get your big kid underwear back. Now it’s time for you to take a shower.” “But it’s early,” I complained. “No, it’s not. It’s almost bedtime. Maybe I’ll have to give you and Scott a bath together.” “I don’t take baths.” “Then go take a shower.” Once again, my attempt to establish independence failed miserably. Scott was getting his diaper changed on the floor when I came out. I didn’t have any clothes with me, so I wrapped a towel around my body and asked, “Where is my underwear?” Aunt Amanda pointed to a tee shirt and said, “I’ve got a shirt for you to wear, but I need to put a diaper on you first.” “What? I don’t need diapers.” She asked, “Are you sure about that? You pooped your pants today.” “I don’t wet the bed anymore, I promise. You can even ask my mom.” My case wasn’t helped by the fact that Aunt Amanda knew I wet the bed until I was ten years old. Aunt Amanda was unswayed and simply replied, “I’m sorry, but no. If you need Pull-ups during the day, you have to sleep in a diaper. That’s our rule. That way, you don’t have to worry about staying dry at night until we know you are potty trained during the day.” She was crazy, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I remarked, “I’m going to tell my mom.” Aunt Amanda was unimpressed and scoffed, “You are? Are you going to tell her you pooped your pants? Your mommy told you to follow our rules, right?” I nodded. “And in our house, big boys don’t poop their pants, do they?” I nodded. “Until I know that you can use the potty like a big boy, you need to wear a diaper at night. Now lie down, so I can get you ready for bed.” She held a pacifier in her hand and ordered, “That’s enough pouting. Now, open up.” I obliged and allowed my aunt to plop the pacifier in my mouth, and reluctantly laid down on the mat. I was trying to hold back cries and sobbed, “Why are you punishing me? It was an accident; I didn’t do it on purpose.” Aunt Amanda hugged me and said, “Honey, I’m not punishing you for pooping your pants.” “You aren’t? It feels like it.” “Well, I’m not. Do you think wearing glasses is punishment?” “No.” “Well, it’s the same with diapers. I don’t want you to pee in your sleep, and the diaper protects it.” “But I don’t pee in my sleep,” I cried. “And if you can show me that’s true, you won’t need diapers anymore. Ok, it’s getting late. I’m going to read you guys a story, and then it’s off to bed.” My uncle’s shirt fit me more like a dress than a shirt. It dropped down to my knees, which made it look like I was wearing a nightgown. Aunt Amanda asked, “How does that feel, sweetie?” “I don’t like it. It feels like I’m wearing a nightgown.” “I agree, but it’s all we have tonight. We’ll get some pajamas for you tomorrow.” We snuggled up next to my aunt, and she told us a story of a boy in a magic land, which was kind of like Jack and The Beanstalk, but her original version. That’s what my dad used to do before he died, and I missed hearing his wonderful stories. After the story, my aunt took us to our rooms. Debbie’s room was a little girl’s room with a lot of pink, and there was a princess bed in the corner. Then we walked into a room that looked like a nursery with two cribs. Aunt Amanda said, “Tommy, you’ll sleep here with Scott.” I cried, “That’s a crib!” She calmly remarked, “Yeah, fortunately, Debbie has a big kid bed, so you can use her old crib.” I cried, “I can’t sleep in a crib. I’m not a baby.” I wanted to avoid the pacifier and stay calm, but it made no sense. I’m fourteen years old; it’s still daylight and I’m being sent to bed; I’m wearing a diaper, and now she is making me sleep in a crib! Aunt Amanda countered, “Little kids sleep in a crib.” “But I’m not a little kid, I’m a teenager.” “Big kids don’t wear diapers.” “But I don’t need a diaper.” “Did you poop your pants?” It was a vicious cycle. When I reminded her that I wasn’t a baby, she told me that big kids don’t wear diapers. I whined that I didn’t need the diaper, but she reminded me that I pooped my pants. I needed the diaper because I pooped my pants, and I needed to sleep in a crib because I was wearing a diaper. I tried more tactics to delay my bedtime. I said, “I’m not tired; it’s too early to go to bed.” Aunt Amanda countered, “You’re pouting, and you’re cranky, so I can tell you are tired. It’s time for bed.” “I’m thirsty.” She pointed to a baby bottle. “There is a bottle for you to drink.” She then warned, “Scott already knows this, but I want to make sure you know. Stay in your crib until I get you.” I suddenly found a flaw in her plan. I can’t pee in the toilet if I’m stuck in a crib. She had to lower the rails. “What happens if I wake up and need to pee? If I use the diaper, you’re going to think that I peed in my sleep.” She paused a second and then said, “Scotty sleeps through the night, so usually that’s not a problem. But there is a baby monitor on, and I can hear when you cry. Just remember, if I take you to the potty, you better pee.” In reality, at that age, I rarely woke up in the middle of the night. I usually slept until the morning, and peed after I woke up. I got in the crib, and I have to admit it felt nice when Aunt Amanda tucked me in. She calmly said, “Good Nite.” It was strange; I hated all the baby treatment, but the attention felt good. I never got that attention at home. Part 3 After his mom left, Scott asked “Do you wet the bed at home?” I replied, “No, I don’t pee at night.” I could have left it at that, but I felt an odd sense of companionship with Scott. I shared, “But I used to.” There was a sense of relief in Scott’s voice. He knew he wasn’t alone in his plight. “Really! How long did you wet the bed?” “I wet the bed until I was ten.” “Oh, did your mommy make you wear diapers as well?” I answered, “No. I used to just wet the bed, and then my mom would get mad.” Scott replied, “Mommy makes me wear diapers, but she doesn’t get mad if I’m wet. Debbie used to wet the bed too, but she stopped. Mommy told me that I’ll get a big kid bed if I can stay dry three times in a row.” I asked, “Do you wear diapers during the day all the time?” Scott said, “No, only when I have too many accidents. When I have accidents, I have to stay in diapers until Mommy can potty train me. Sometimes I even get to wear real underwear like other big kids, but then I pee my pants and have to wear Pull-Ups.” “How long will you have to wear diapers now?” “I don’t know. A few days. I can’t use the potty until Mommy lets me.” Aunt Amanda chimed in on the monitor with an annoyed tone. “It’s bedtime. No more talking!” My aunt is crazy! Scott is going to be treated like a baby until he stops wetting his pants, and it might be three more years until she lets him sleep in a real bed. That’s what would have happened to me. If my mom acted like Aunt Amanda, I would have slept in a crib until I was ten, and I used to wet my pans as well. I might have had to wear diapers during the day! At least I knew this wouldn’t last forever. I hoped my mom would make Aunt Amanda stop and everything would be back to normal. I thought about making my aunt wake up in the middle of the night to take me to the bathroom. I figured it would be a good punishment for doing this to me. However, there weren’t any clocks in the nursery. It was just a night light and curtains. Even if I woke up in the middle of the night, I wouldn’t know what time it was. I ended up falling asleep and slept until my aunt woke me up. “It’s time to wake up. I want to check your diaper.” She put her hand on the diaper and said, “Good, it’s still dry.” In a smug voice, I chimed, “See, I told you. I don’t wet the bed.” Aunt Amanda grinned and said, “We’ve got to make sure you are potty trained during the day before we can worry about nighttime.” She handed me a new Pull-Up and said, “Try to keep these dry, remember to use the potty.” I protested, “I don’t have accidents!” Aunt Amanda replied, “You did yesterday. If you stay dry through Thursday, I’ll give you big kid underwear on Friday.” “WHAT? It’s only supposed to be for three days. That’s the day after tomorrow!” Aunt Amanda shook her head, put the pacifier in my mouth, and warned, “Stop whining. Yesterday doesn’t count because you had an accident.” Scott sat in his highchair for breakfast, and then Aunt Amanda got ready to take us to Reno, which I think was to buy me some pajamas. I guess they had to buy some other stuff as well, but I didn’t pay too much attention. I just followed along. Other than the thick padded underwear that I was wearing, my aunt didn’t treat me much differently than I got from my mom. She even let me go into the men’s bathroom by myself, which shouldn’t have sounded like a big deal, but it was. On the other hand, Scott was pushed in a stroller, and Debbie kept close to her mom the whole time. Debbie might have technically been a big kid, but she was still only five years old and didn’t have much independence. I got into a small tussle with my aunt at the store. I wanted to buy something from the men’s section, but my aunt knew those clothes were too big for me. At the time, I wasn’t quite big enough for men’s clothes, but baggy clothes were more popular. I pointed to the men’s section and whined, “I want to go there.” “No, Tommy. Those are too big. You still need boy’s clothing.” “But I like them big.” “I’m not buying clothes that fit you like a dress.” I stomped and huffed, “It’s not fair.” I had a sour demeanor and didn’t like anything that my aunt showed. She eventually got tired of it and just picked something out herself. To my dismay, most of the pajamas had themes that were for younger kids. Things like Pokémon or Power Rangers. She remembered that I liked airplanes when I was younger, and she found a pair that had airplanes on it. She showed them to me and said, “How about these? You like airplanes, don’t you?” These would have been the pajamas that I would have picked if I was younger, and I really do like airplanes. If I had to get some pajamas, they wouldn’t be so bad. I held back my excitement and answered, “They are kind of babyish.” “Well, I think they look cute. Go try them on.” By the way, fourteen-year-old boys do not like ‘cute’ things. “Do I have to?” “Yes, you do; I want to make sure they fit.” Fortunately, Aunt Amanda didn’t make me parade out of the dressing room, and I got to take them off once she knew they fit. She didn’t make Scott sit in a highchair at the In-n-Out. I guess she didn’t think that was necessary, and it saved Scott a whole lot of embarrassment. Other than making me tell her when I went to the bathroom, she left me alone after we got home. She was concerned that I hadn’t pooped and wanted me to try and poop when we got home. No fourteen-year-old boy wants to discuss bowel movements with his aunt, but she reminded me that I was supposed to tell her when I used the potty. We followed the same routine that night, which included me having to strip down to let my aunt inspect my Pull-Up. She noted that it was dry and praised me for it. “Good job. You get a smiley face. Only two more days until you earn your big kid pants.” I mumbled something under my breath, and she chastised me for being a sourpuss. I was once again back in the nursery, sleeping in a crib and it was still light outside. Part 4 I was dry again in the morning, and I made sure to gloat when Aunt Amanda woke us up. She said, “You’re dry. Do you need to go pee-pee?” I nodded and smugly said, “See, I told you.” My aunt remarked, “First, we need to make sure you stay dry during the day.” I wanted to tell her that I was already potty trained, but I knew it would just put us in a vicious cycle. I did my business in the bathroom and then took a seat next to Scott in his highchair. My aunt looked at me and asked, “Did you pee, or did you poop?” I tried not to sound snarky, but I probably did. “I just peed.” I was a little more excited when I added, “And I washed my hands, too.” Aunt Amanda smiled and said, “Good job, and you did it without being reminded.” I couldn’t tell if she was genuinely proud of me, or just being snide. It didn’t matter at the time; I was too excited about the phone call from my mom later that morning. All I needed to do was let my mom know what my aunt was doing. There was no way my mom would let Aunt Amanda keep treating me like a baby. My mom was always telling me that it was time to grow up, but that wouldn’t be possible if I was literally treated like a baby. The call was just before lunch, which was nighttime at my mom’s base. She wasn’t allowed to tell me where she was, but it looked like just another Army base. I have to admit, it was kind of cool seeing her. It had only been two days, and even if I wouldn’t admit it, I missed her. However, I had business to conduct. I had to let her know what my aunt did. The first thing I said was, “Mom, can I go somewhere else for the summer?” My mom shook her head. “I’m afraid not, honey. Aunt Amanda is the only person who can watch you this summer.” “But Aunt Amanda is crazy!” “Why do you say that?” “Mom! She is making me wear Pull-ups, like the kind that little kids wear.” I figured that would get her attention, but Mom didn’t seem surprised. “Aunt Amanda told me that you pooped your pants in the car on Monday.” I tried to think of an excuse, “Yeah, but.” “She wants to make sure it doesn’t happen again.” “Mom, I’m fourteen. It won’t happen again.” “It’s only been two days; how do you know it won’t happen again?” I cried, “It was an accident.” Mom countered, “Isn’t that what the Pull-ups are for?” I smirked, “If I was three.” Mom was not impressed and said, “You pooped your pants, and you’re fourteen. What does that say about you?” It wasn’t going how I expected. “Mom! She is making me sleep in a crib, and I have to go to bed at eight o’clock. It’s not even dark yet!” I could have told her about the diapers, but I didn’t want her to know about that. My mom was undeterred, “Tommy, I told you before you left that you’re going to have to follow Aunt Amanda’s rules.” “But.” My mom interrupted me, “I know that I did things differently when you were little but let me ask you this. Are you going to poop your pants again?” I immediately shouted, “No!” “Are you going to wet the bed?” “NO!” “Good, then it’s working. You know that Scott still has problems making it to the potty, just like you did.” My mom liked to remind me about my potty issues when I was little. “Scott has to wear Pull-ups when he doesn’t make it to the bathroom, and she has to treat you the same way. It’s only fair, right?” I guess I was supposed to nod in agreement, but I just rolled my eyes. Mom continued, “Look, I don’t expect you to have any issues. It’s just three days, and then everything will be back to normal. You’ll get your own room, and you can stay up as late as you want. She will leave you alone and let you do whatever you want, within reason.” My mom saw the disappointment on my face and scoffed, “Tommy, don’t give me that look. You’re a lot older than Scott, so I expect more from you. Pooping your pants is just not acceptable. At the very least, you should have to follow the same rules.” I shook my head, but Mom ignored it. “Maybe if I made you wear Pull-ups and diapers when you were younger, you wouldn’t have kept wetting your pants.” I sulked in protest, “I’m not a baby!” It was supposed to sound defiant and strong, but it came off more like a whine. My mom rolled her eyes and gave me that disapproving look that only a mom can give. “Tommy Michael Montgomery,” she used all three of my names, and any kid knows that’s never good. “Aunt Amanda told me that you’ve done nothing but pout and sulk. If you don’t get your way, you pout and throw a tantrum. I already told you that if you want Aunt Amanda to treat you like a teenager, you have to act like it. You have to be mature and responsible. You have to help around the house and do your chores without being asked. Don’t whine, don’t pout, and don’t throw tantrums when you don’t get your way. If you keep acting like a baby, you should be treated like one.” That conversation didn’t go as well as I hoped, and I fought back the tears when we hung up. I didn’t mean to cry, but I felt hopeless. I was stuck living under my aunt’s absurd rules for the whole summer. Part 5 After my mom failed to come to my rescue, I sulked for the rest of the day, which I guess kind of proved her point. I didn’t get my way and just moped around for the rest of the day without talking to anybody. In my mind, it was safer to stay silent. If I did talk, my aunt would just make me suck on a pacifier to keep me from pouting. I kept to myself, read some books, and looked at my phone. I wanted to go to my room, but my room was the nursery with the crib in it. Fortunately, my aunt left me alone. She asked me to do some minor chores, which I complained about until she said, “Tommy, don’t you want me to treat you like a big kid.” Oddly, I wasn’t treated like a baby during the day. It was nothing like how she treated Scott, who wasn’t allowed to do much of anything. Scott had to stay close to an adult, or Jessica at all times. He had to take a nap after lunch, and there was the highchair and sippy cups. He also didn’t have any chores, short of putting the toys back. I wasn’t even treated like Debbie, who technically was considered a big kid, but she was still kind of little and needed to be watched closely. She still took a nap, but she slept in her own bed. Other than the Pull-ups, my aunt didn’t treat me that much differently than I hope she would have. My aunt didn’t even have a problem letting me explore the property near their house, which was something that my mom didn’t always allow. Things always took a drastic turn after dinner. That’s when I had to take my shower, get diapered for bed, and then put in a crib at a ridiculously early hour. From dinner till morning, I was just a little baby who wore diapers and slept in a crib. Complaining about it didn’t do any good, and I didn’t hate all of it. To be honest, I really enjoyed our story time when we would cuddle up next to my aunt and listen to her wonderful stories. I kind of wondered what it would feel like to pee in the Pull-up. It’s no secret that I wet the bed, and even had accidents during the day when I was younger, but my mom stopped using diapers and Pull-ups after I started school. She said, “You’re a big kid and big kids don’t wear diapers.” I wished I could just go back to diapers and not wake up with pee all over me. Especially because my mom would yell at me, and I was still crying when I got to school. I asked Scott, “What happens if I accidentally pee in my Pull-up?” I had to do that on the sly, because I didn’t want my aunt or Jessica to know what I was thinking, nor did I want anybody to think that I really needed them. Scott answered, “Mommy just helps me change, and then reminds me that big kids use the potty. Mommy puts me back in diapers if I do it again.” I asked, “Does she get mad?” My mom used to get furious when I had an accident. Scott shook his head, “No. Mommy never gets mad. Even when I have to wear diapers. She says that I’m just not ready, and that’s why I still need diapers.” I knew that was true. I never saw Aunt Amanda get upset about changing diapers, nor did she say anything mean. She had a really strict ‘no teasing’ policy in her house, so I didn’t even have to worry about getting teased. I could wet myself one time, and nobody would say anything. However, I didn’t want to give Aunt Amanda the satisfaction. I wanted her to know just how ridiculous it was to put a fourteen-year-old kid in a Pull-up and make him sleep in a crib like a baby. I used the bathroom and didn’t have any accidents. Aunt Amanda inspected my final Pull-up Thursday night after dinner, and upon seeing that it was still dry, put a third smiley face on my chart. “That’s three smiley faces in a row, do you know what that means?” I smugly replied, “It means I don’t have to wear these stupid Pull-ups anymore.” My aunt didn’t like the tone of my reply and shot me a terse look, “Is that what you say Tommy?” I immediately shrank back down and meekly mouthed, “Sorry.” I couldn’t risk giving my aunt ammunition to extend my time in Pull-ups. She nodded, and so I answered more appropriately, “It means that I can wear underwear tomorrow.” Aunt Amanda nodded and announced, “Yes, Tommy has proven that he is ready for big boy pants. No more Pull-ups for Tommy!” My cousins both raised their hands and shouted, “Hooray for Tommy!” She had the nighttime diapers laid out and I asked, “What about those, why do I still need to wear diapers at night?” Aunt Amanda kept telling me that we were only concentrating on my daytime potty training, so I should have realized I would have to wear a diaper for a few more nights. “Now that we’ve taken care of your potty training during the day, it’s time for you to show me you can be dry at night.” I pouted, “That’s not fair! I haven’t been wet all week. Why do I still have to wear diapers?” Aunt Amanda rolled her eyes, grabbed a pacifier, and ordered, “Open up.” I started to protest, but she plopped the pacifier in my mouth and said, “We don’t whine in this house. Go stand in the corner and I’ll get you when I finish with Scotty.” I stomped to the corner and sulked as my aunt took care of Scott. I heard her giving Scott loads of attention. I once saw a kid getting treated like a baby by his mom and it was so different than what my aunt was doing. That kid’s mom was mean and making fun of him, while my aunt didn’t even seem mad. Part of me was mad at her. I couldn’t believe my aunt was doing this to me, but another part of me was mad at myself. I knew I wasn’t helping myself by throwing tantrums. Things were so much easier for me when I just let her do her thing. What if she decided I wasn’t a big kid yet, and made me wear diapers all the time? Aunt Amanda didn’t seem mad when she came to the corner. I mouthed, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get mad.” My aunt hugged me and said, “I know honey. You’re just over-excited and tired. Let’s get you diapered and ready for bed.” I had tears in my eyes and asked, “Do I still have to wear Pull-ups tomorrow?” She had a confused look and remarked, “Of course not. You earned big boy pants, remember?” “But I threw a tantrum.” “That’s not good, but if you don’t make it a habit, we won’t worry about it.” I asked, “How much longer do I need to wear diapers at night?” Aunt Amanda replied, “Now that we know that you are potty trained during the day, it’s time to see if you can stay dry overnight. If you are dry three nights in a row, you can move to Pull-ups.” “Will I have to sleep in a crib after that?” Aunt Amanda shook her head and reminded me, “Big kids sleep in a bed. You’ll get to sleep in the guest room. That’s where you were going to sleep until you pooped your pants.” “What about my bedtime?” “You’ll be a big kid, so you should get a big kid bedtime. You’re fourteen, so this summer will be a good chance to show that you can manage your own bedtimes. First, show me that you are ready, and I’ll treat you like you’re in high school. Does that sound good?” I had time to think after my aunt finished her story and tucked us in our cribs. I allowed my aunt to put me in a diaper and make me sleep in a baby crib, even though I didn’t wet the bed, and then she made me feel guilty when I complained about it. She wasn’t only crazy; she was evil. I did the math in my head. Three nights would take me to Sunday morning, which was a week after I got here. I wondered if this was all part of an elaborate plot my mom concocted to get me to grow up. Maybe she planned this whole thing! I get treated like a baby for one week just to make me realize I shouldn’t be acting like a child. I thought about punishing my aunt by using the diaper, but based on how she treated Scott, it didn’t seem like much of a punishment. She didn’t seem to think it was a big deal to change his diaper, even when it was poopy. I would just have to wear diapers a while longer. Aunt Amanda would wake us up around seven o’clock, which was much earlier than I wanted to get up. However, my bedtime was so early that I wasn’t groggy in the morning and didn’t get cranky. My aunt praised me when I was still dry the next two mornings. She then removed the diaper, wiped the area, and let me get dressed in the bathroom. She typically waited until Scott had breakfast before changing his diaper, so he ate breakfast from his highchair while staying in his soggy diaper. For me, everything was normal during the day, just like it would be if I never had to wear Pull-ups. Aunt Amanda gave me some chores, which I would eventually do after getting tired of her nagging, and then leave me alone for the rest of the day. I usually kept myself entertained and didn’t bother anybody. Aunt Amanda worked from home and paid Jessica to help keep an eye on Debbie and Scott. My aunt did most of the parenting, but Jessica was there to help. It was very clear that my aunt felt Jessica was more mature than me and far more responsible. My aunt didn’t think I was mature enough to watch Scott or Debbie, even if we were just outside. Jessica didn’t seem all that interested in me. I think she knew about my Pull-ups, and she probably knew the second crib was mine, but she mostly ignored me during the day. At first, I tried to avoid being around my younger cousins, because I felt like another little kid. However, as the week progressed, I didn’t seem to mind it and spent more time around my cousins. Scott liked a lot of the same things I did when I was little, so it was kind of fun playing with him. I started to get these weird thoughts in my head. It is hard to explain, but I was a little envious, especially with all the attention everybody gave to Scott. I still counted how many days I had left in diapers, but I started to accept and even eagerly anticipate the nightly diapering routine. By Saturday night, I offered no resistance when it was time to get ready for bed and compliantly allowed my aunt to change my diaper. It was enough that she commented, “My, you are so calm and being such a good boy. I didn’t even have to tell you to stop wriggling.” She started to say something else and stopped herself. I remember thinking she was going to say, “It is almost like you like it,” but then decided to stop. I was desperately trying to convince myself that I hated it, but I knew that wasn’t true. She finished up, hugged me, and said, “If you’re dry tomorrow, I won’t need to do this again. You won’t need diapers anymore. Isn’t that nice?” I answered with an awkward, “Yeah.” I wanted to sound excited and with a huge sense of relief. My nightmare was finally over, but it was hard to hide the reality. I think I came off sounding disappointed. I tried to regain my composure and asked, “Will I still have to go to bed so early?” Aunt Amanda smiled and answered, “Of course not. You and Scotty have an early bedtime because little kids need more sleep. If you show me that you’re not a little kid, I can treat you like a big kid.” I said, “Thank you,” but part of me was disappointed. I didn’t think my mom cared about me anymore. It felt like Aunt Amanda really did care, especially when she was putting me in diapers and being so nice. I wondered if that would stop when I didn’t need diapers. This was my sixth night wearing a diaper, and I still hadn’t peed in one. I had the Pull-ups for three days and never wet one. I asked Scott how it felt when he wet his diaper, but the question sounded weird, and Scott didn’t know how to answer. This was my chance to see what it felt like to pee in a diaper. I didn’t think Aunt Amanda would get mad. That’s what the diaper is for. It would mean another three nights in the nursery, but that didn’t seem so bad. I felt a slight pressure on my bladder. It wasn’t that strong, but it was enough that I could pee if I wanted. I thought, “Why not just pee in my diaper?” It was harder than I expected, but I eventually started to pee. The warmth spread and I fell back asleep wondering what my aunt would say in the morning. Part 6 It’s a lot harder to start to pee when you think you should only pee in the toilet. I had to think about standing in front of a toilet, and really concentrate, but I managed to pee in the diaper. I rolled over and fell back asleep. I was already awake when Aunt Amanda came into the nursery. I let her discover my wet diaper when she checked. In my mind, it sounded more believable if I didn’t know I was wet. She checked Scott first, and it wasn’t a surprise that he wet his diaper. Scott always woke up with a wet diaper and my aunt just said, “You’re wet again, but that’s why you need diapers. We’ll change it after breakfast.” She came to me and gently tapped, “Are you awake?” I nodded and she replied, “Let’s see how you did last night.” She looked surprised when she felt my diaper. I hadn’t wet my diaper all week, so I’m sure she expected me to be dry. “Uh-oh, it looks like you wet your diaper. I guess it’s a good thing you wore one last night.” I pretended to look disappointed, but in reality, I loved it. Aunt Amanda hugged me and said, “It’s ok, honey. Sometimes these things happen. Let’s have some breakfast, and then we will take care of your wet diaper. Do you want to go pee-pee in the potty?” I shook my head, even though I needed to pee. It wasn’t urgent because I peed two more times that night. I asked, “Do I have to wear Pull-ups, or a diaper today?” Aunt Amanda shook her head and said, “No, honey you’ve shown me that you are potty trained during the day, it just doesn’t look like you’re ready for a big boy bed. I think you’ll get there, but you have to sleep in here until you do.” I guess I was supposed to be upset about that, but I meekly accepted my fate. My aunt pulled a second highchair from the closet and brought it to the table. I asked, “Do I have to sit in that?” My aunt answered calmly and matter-of-factly, “Yes, little kids sit in highchairs.” It made no sense, but a part of me was curious about what baby treatment was like. I complained, “I’m not a little kid.” It wasn’t a strong protest; I was genuinely confused. This was the first time she made me sit in a highchair. Aunt Amanda asked, “Is your diaper wet?” I had to admit the truth and nodded. She said, “Ok then, hop up. In my house, little kids who wear diapers have to sit in a highchair.” Debbie saw me sitting in the highchair and asked, “Why is Tommy in a highchair?” “His diaper is wet, and that means he eats breakfast in a highchair.” As if that was completely normal, Debbie responded, “Oh, yeah.” It sounded like this made perfect sense to her and wasn’t anything to be concerned about. She also knew enough to avoid saying anything that could be considered teasing. I know my aunt wanted to humiliate us. We wet our diapers like babies therefore we should be treated like babies. She tied a bib around my neck, cut my pancakes into bite-sized pieces, and handed me a sippy cup full of juice. It was just like she did with Scott, and just like she would if I was two years old. I was embarrassed but oddly enjoyed the spectacle. She changed my diaper after breakfast, and it was more involved than any of the previous diaper changes. When my diaper was dry, my aunt just did a quick wipe and then sent me to the bathroom to get dressed. This time, she took her time and made sure the diaper area was clean and dry. She also took time to clean my butt, just like she did when I pooped my pants. It was more than just a few wipes, so I don’t think I was very clean down there, but my aunt didn’t say anything about it. I think it was about five minutes later when she finally handed me my underwear and said, “Off you go, honey. You’re a big boy now.” I was the same awkward teenager I always was. Based on how she treated me that Sunday morning, I knew I would get the same treatment Scott was getting if I wet myself during the day. I knew her system. I would have to wear Pull-ups if I had an accident, and I would go back to diapers if I had too many accidents in Pull-ups. I knew I would get the full baby treatment, just like Scott. I wasn’t sure how long the baby treatment would last, nor did I know how many times I could wet a Pull-up before getting put in a diaper. It was almost a full week, and Scott was still in diapers all the time. Scott never asked to use the bathroom, and she never took him. She said they were taking a break from potty training, but I didn’t know how long the break would be. What if she makes him do this all summer? What happens if she puts me in a diaper? I’d like to say that the bug was out of my system. I peed in my diaper and knew what it felt like, which is what I wanted. However, I wanted it more, and not less. I thought about wetting my pants that Sunday afternoon. I might have done it, but I was too scared. I wanted to wet my diaper again the next night, but it is hard to pee in a diaper when you are used to using the potty. I slept the whole night and was still dry when my aunt woke us up. She took off the dry diaper, gave me the appropriate kudos, and sent me on my way. I ate breakfast from a normal chair, and my aunt went back to ignoring me most of the time. That was the day that Scott started potty training. I was a single child, so I didn’t know how little kids learned to use the potty. My experience was a bit rough. I remember my mom getting mad at me when I didn’t make it to the potty, but I didn’t understand how kids learned when they needed to go. My aunt seemed to be calmer and a lot nicer than my mom. She didn’t yell and didn’t make him sit on the toilet unless he asked. When she knew he was ready to poo, she asked, “Scotty, do you want to try to use the potty?” He nodded and she praised him when he pooped in the toilet. She then asked me, “Tommy, Scotty wants to use the potty like a big boy. Can you show him how big boys use the potty?” I was confused and answered, “Yeah? what do I have to do?” “It is really easy, just make sure to take Scotty with you when you use the potty. You can model how big boys use the potty.” I was fourteen, and it was weird bringing my seven-year-old cousin with me when I peed in the toilet. I didn’t want to do that, and I am ashamed to admit this, but I wanted Scott to stay in diapers. I think I only did it one time, and that was when my aunt was watching. That first day, my aunt asked Scott if he needed to use the potty and praised him when he went. The second day, which was a Tuesday, she told him, “Scotty, big boys don’t need to be told when it is time to use the potty. If you need to use the potty, ask me and I will take you.” I think Scott asked her a few times, but most of the time, he just used his diaper. I don’t know if he did it on purpose or couldn’t tell when he needed to pee. Either way, my aunt didn’t get mad. She just said, “I guess you are not ready. We’ll take a break and try again later.” I figured my aunt wanted to put Scott in Pull-ups, just like she did with me after I pooped my pants. If he did make it three days without an accident, he could wear underwear. I started to do the math. I wanted to see how long Scott would have to wear diapers, and how long until he could get to full big-boy status. At least, that’s what I told myself. In reality, I wanted to know how long it would take to go back to normal after being put in diapers. It was a whole week until my aunt started to potty train Scott again, and I figured that’s what would happen to me. I knew it would be another three days in Pull-ups, and then three more nights wearing diapers to bed. Obviously, that included sleeping in the crib the whole time and getting treated like a baby while wearing a diaper. That was only two weeks, which didn’t seem that bad. I knew I would have to act fast if I wanted to do this. My aunt just put Scott back in diapers, and it would be another week until she tried to potty train him again. If it happened soon, Scott and I would be babies together. However, there was a chance that Scott would be potty trained and out of diapers, while I still needed them. It sounds weird, but I didn’t want to be the only one treated like a baby. I considered wetting my pants right there, but I had to make it seem real. It would look suspicious if I started to wet my pants for no reason. However, my aunt knew I used to wet the bed, and I just wet the bed again on Sunday. Maybe, if I wet the bed, she would think it came back. It made sense, to me, that if I was already wetting the bed, I could have accidents during the day. That night I set my plan into action. First, I peed in the diaper before I fell asleep. My aunt had to think I was wetting the bed again, and I couldn’t risk another dry diaper. That meant I had to sleep in a wet diaper all night, but I didn’t mind. The second part of my plan came after our highchair ritual. Aunt Amanda was working from the patio as I played with Scott and Debbie. We were running around like little kids, and I felt the urge to pee. I wanted to make sure I could pee when we were outside, so I didn’t go before we started to play. I made sure nobody was watching, closed my eyes, and started to pee in my pants. I felt the warm liquid stream down my legs and looked down at the obvious sign that I wet my pants. This set up a problem I hadn’t considered. My aunt had to find out, but how to I make sure it isn’t obvious that I wet myself on purpose? I asked myself, ‘What would I do if I really did wet my pants?’ When I was little, I hid my accidents to avoid punishment. However, this time I wanted to be caught. I could have easily excused myself and cleaned up in private. Nobody would ever know I peed my pants, but that’s not what I wanted. I decided to let my aunt discover it for herself, which is what happened before. Unfortunately, I didn’t count on Debbie seeing it. She saw the wet spot and said, “Tommy, you peed your pants.” I shook my head and defiantly cried, “No I didn’t. I don’t pee my pants.” “Yes, you did. It’s right there. I need to tell Mommy.” “I’ll take care of it.” “Mommy said to tell her when Scott pees his pants, so it’s the same for you.” She then shouted, “MOMMY! Tommy peed in his pants.” Aunt Amanda looked surprised and said, “He did? Tommy, what happened?” Debbie said, “We were playing, and Tommy went pee-pee.” Aunt Amanda looked at the wet spot and said, “It looks like you had an accident. I’m afraid that you need to go back to Pull-ups. Let’s get you changed.” Part 7 My aunt put a change pad on the living room floor; it was right in front of everybody. That’s what she did at night, so I don’t know why I expected any privacy. I complained, “Do we need to do this here? Can’t I go to the bathroom and clean up by myself?” My aunt looked at me like I was crazy. In her eyes, only a little kid would wet their pants, so I was just a little kid. She shook her head and said, “I have to make sure you are cleaned properly. I don’t want you to get a rash. Now, stop stalling and lie down.” I guess this was kind of what I wanted, but it scared me anyway. I was also putting on a bit of an act. I was afraid that she would suspect something if I didn’t complain. I grumbled in a whiney voice, “I don’t want to.” Aunt Amanda rolled her eyes, put a pacifier in front of my mouth, and said, “Tough, now lie down.” To be honest, I was beginning to like the pacifier. It calmed me down and helped me relax. She put the pacifier in my mouth, and I calmly laid back down on the floor. She praised me, “Good boy.” She finished wiping, helped me into the clean Pull-up, and then warned, “This is a Pull-up, not a diaper. You still need to use the potty like a big boy. If you can use the potty, you can have your big boy pants back. If not, you’re going to have to go back to diapers.” I muffled through the pacifier, “How long?” “Just like last time. Three days. You can get your big boy pants back on Saturday.” She condescendingly patted my Pull-up and said, “Go to the nursery and get dressed, then you can play with Scott and Debbie.” Going back to Pull-ups was the first part of my plan. I knew I would need more accidents to be put in diapers, but I didn’t know how many. Scott told me that he sometimes stays in Pull-ups after an accident but usually goes back to diapers if he has more than one. I figured that one accident wouldn’t be enough, and I would need to have at least two accidents in my Pull-ups. I didn’t want to make my aunt suspicious, so I didn’t have any more accidents that day. That night my aunt praised me for keeping my Pull-ups dry, and then got me ready for bed. I made sure to wet my diaper again that night. In my mind, I had to start wetting the bed to make my plan believable. It was getting easier to wet my diaper. I no longer had to visualize standing in front of a toilet. I just started to pee when I wanted to go. My aunt noted the wet diaper in the morning but didn’t seem all that concerned about my sudden bedwetting. She acted like everything was normal. I thought my plan was going well. My aunt was acting like these were real accidents, and that I might need to go back to diapers. I figured it would be fun to act like a baby for a few weeks, and I didn’t have to worry about other kids finding out. Nobody at my school would ever know. However, teenagers don’t always think about all of the factors before acting. I forgot about my mom. My mom wasn’t around, and I didn’t think she would know anything about it. It didn’t dawn on me that my aunt told my mom all about it. That was stupid! My aunt told her that I pooped my pants, so why didn’t I think my aunt would tell her that I wet my pants and started wetting the bed. Mom called me on Wednesday morning, which was the day after I peed my pants. I also wet the bed three times. A week earlier, I complained about having to sleep in a crib after pooping my pants, and now I was wetting the bed again, and I already wet my pants once. I hadn’t wet my pants since I was in 2nd grade. She asked, “Tommy, what’s going on? Do you know why you’re wetting yourself?” My first instinct was to deny it. “I’m not peeing myself.” My mom tersely replied, “Tommy, stop it! Aunt Amanda told me that you wet your diaper twice. She also told me that you peed your pants yesterday. Why is that happening?” I tried to blame my aunt. “It’s not my fault. Aunt Amanda is making me sleep in a crib, and I can’t get out when I need to pee.” Mom shook her head, “I don’t buy that one bit. You were dry for the first five nights. You only had to stay dry one more night to get out of diapers.” I dejectedly answered, “I know.” Mom continued, “What about the accident yesterday?” I stammered, trying to think of an explanation. I went back to what I used to say when I was little. I meekly answered, “I didn’t know I had to go.” Mom sighed, trying to contain her anger. “That means you have to wear Pull-ups again, right?” I was too embarrassed to answer, but I nodded to avoid more wrath. “What about this morning? Did you wet again last night?” My lack of an answer gave it away. Mom replied, “Tommy, you’re much too old to be wetting your pants like a baby. You know that if this continues, Aunt Amanda is going to make you wear diapers during the day.” I shifted my eyes away from the camera and mumbled, “I know.” “Well, is that what you want?” This was the first time Mom implied that I was doing this on purpose. I emphatically denied the charge. “No! She is going to treat me like a baby. I don’t want that. Why would you even let her do that?” I hoped turning the tables might put my mom on the defensive. My mom sighed and said, “Tommy, I can only think of two reasons that a boy your age would suddenly pee himself. You’re either doing it on purpose, or something is wrong.” “It’s not on purpose.” I protested. My mom replied, “Ok, I guess Aunt Amanda will have to take you to the doctor.” The thought of telling a doctor that I was wetting my pants was humiliating. I cried out, almost begging, “Don’t do that. Please. I’ll stop. I’ll stop, I promise.” Mom clearly didn’t believe me. She asked, “Are you telling me that you can stop? That means you’re doing this on purpose.” I was getting frustrated. She was turning everything against me. I cried out, “I’m not doing this on purpose!” “Then you can’t promise to stop.” She paused, while I tried to think of a way out. Mom continued, “It doesn’t matter anyway. You still need to go back to diapers.” “What? Why?” “Because you'll pee your pants if you don’t wear a diaper. That’s why babies wear diapers.” I whimpered, “But, she is going to treat me like a baby.” Mom replied, “Why shouldn’t she? You should be treated like a baby if you aren’t potty trained.” I protested, “I am potty trained! Stop saying that.” Mom snapped back, “You aren’t if you purposely pee your pants.” “I’m not doing it on purpose!” By this point, I was on the verge of massive tears. The kind of meltdown I only had when I was very young. “But that means you need diapers to avoid accidents, and you’re not ready to diaper yourself.” She paused in the middle to give me time to process what she was saying. I was confused, “Diapering yourself?” “That means you change your own diapers, and I don’t think you’re ready to do that.” I indignantly asked, “Why not?” “Tommy, it takes a lot of maturity to take care of your own diapers, and you’re not ready. You have to make sure you clean everything and then get rid of the diaper without making a mess. I don’t trust you to do any part of that. You don’t even pick up after yourself when you take a shower, and I still have to nag you to take a shower.” Mom continued, “If you really are having accidents, you’ll have to learn how to handle it like an adult. I can’t ask Aunt Amanda to teach you something like that, so you’ll have to wait until we get home. Until then, Aunt Amanda is going to take care of it her way.” I was stunned, and said, “But, that’s the whole summer.” Mom scoffed, “It’s probably going to be a lot longer than that. I need to see a lot more maturity from you before I’m willing to teach you. You will need to be potty trained all over again.” Once again, I protested, “I am potty trained.” “Big boys don’t pee their pants. You keep peeing and pooping in your pants, so obviously you aren’t potty trained. I didn’t do it right the first time, so maybe it is time to let Aunt Amanda have a try.” Mom saw the look on my face and asked, “Tommy, did Aunt Amanda put you in a Pull-up, or is she making you wear a diaper?” I meekly replied, “a Pull-up.” “That means she thinks you are ready to use the potty on your own. If you show her that you can be a big boy and use the potty, she won’t treat you like a baby. You can do that, can’t you?” My mom was talking to me like I was a baby. Her voice was high, and she used short phrases. She used euphemisms like potty and pee-pee, just like I was a small child. I regained my composure and said, “Mom, can you stop talking like that? It makes me feel like a baby.” Mom replied, “That’s the point, Tommy. If you don’t want to be treated like a three-year-old, stop acting like a three-year-old.” “I’m not a baby!” Mom rolled her eyes and said, “Prove it. If you want to become a teenager, act like one. Stop peeing your pants, don’t wet the bed, and stop whining when you don’t get your way. If you act like a little kid, you’re going to be treated like a little kid.” Part 8 Even though she didn’t say it, my mom thought I was wetting myself on purpose. Did she really mean it when she said that I wasn’t potty-trained? I was especially mad when she said that I was acting like a little kid, and she wanted my aunt to treat me like I was a baby. I couldn’t believe it when she said that I might stay in diapers a lot longer than just the summer. I wondered why I did this in the first place. I wished I’d never pooped my pants. I didn’t do that on purpose; that was a real accident. Everything would be normal if that didn’t happen. I wouldn’t have to wear Pull-ups and I wouldn’t have to sleep in a diaper. I asked myself, ‘Why did I want to pee in my diaper?’ That wasn’t an accident, nor was it when I peed my pants. I did that because I wanted to stay in diapers, which made no sense. What kid my age wants to wear diapers? Unfortunately, I didn’t feel like a typical teenager. I was a fourteen-year-old boy who was starting high school in a few months, but that’s not what I saw in the mirror. Physically, I didn’t look like a teenager. I wasn’t just small, I was undeveloped. The boys at my school bragged about their giant dicks, while mine was just a tiny bald little thing. Mine looked like it belonged to a little kid. Some of the boys in my class were shaving, but I didn’t even have peach fuzz. The friends I had in elementary school grew up, and I didn’t. I had a good friend named Jaxon; he was the only kid who knew that I wet my bed, and he kept my secret. I’m older than him, but he was always one of the bigger kids. He was always bigger, but by eighth grade, he towered over me. He was big, even for an adult. He wore size 13 shoes, and I wore size 6. We didn’t share many things in common anymore, so we stopped hanging out together. His friends were jerks anyway, so I tried to avoid them. I wanted to be cool, but I didn’t know how. I pretended to like girls, but I wasn’t really interested, at least in that way. The girls didn’t seem all that interested in me either, other than the ones who treated me like a little brother. Some kids thought I was gay, but I didn’t think about boys that way either. I just spent my time pretending that I was a famous athlete, or whatever cool thing I could think of. That’s fine when you’re nine years old, but not at fourteen. At first, I wanted to punish my mom for what she said. I thought about going into full baby mode. If they were going to treat me like a baby, I would become a huge brat. I would cry, throw tantrums, and do all the things that babies do when they get upset. I soon realized that wasn’t going to work, and it was better if I just proved them wrong. I had to prove that I wasn’t just some little kid who needed diapers; I was a teenager who needed independence and respect. However, that’s not who I was. My mom constantly nagged me to do my chores and then complained that I didn’t do them properly when I finally completed them. Aunt Amanda took a different route. At the end of the week, she gave me money for each chore I completed. She had to inspect it to make sure it was done correctly, but I got credit for the chore. I didn’t have to do them unless I wanted the money. It was the same for Debbie, but hers were simpler and she didn’t get as much money. I could have earned $20 for cleaning the garage, while Debbie got $1 for setting the table. At the end of the week, Debbie made three times more money than I did. I tried to be a big kid that day. I knocked a chore off the list; I vacuumed the living room. It took me four times to pass the inspection, but I finally met my aunt’s expectations. At the same time, I watched Scott happily play on the floor. He wasn’t allowed to do any chores and didn’t get an allowance. That was reserved for big kids. My aunt doted over him while changing his wet diaper, which made me jealous. I had a strange dream that night. It was about the last time I wore diapers for an extended period. I was five years old, and we went to Asia for vacation. I remember wearing diapers on the plane. I still wore diapers at night, but I didn’t wear them in the daytime anymore, and that felt weird to me. I remember that these were diapers and not Pull-ups. I had some accidents, so I had to wear diapers for the rest of the trip, which was three weeks. That’s a long time for a five-year-old. I also remember getting lost at the airport and getting put in a stroller. This wasn’t a bad memory. It was pleasant, and I didn’t care that I had to wear diapers or sit in a stroller. I woke up in a wet diaper. Having a real accident put me in a strange place. It’s hard to explain, but I used to feel special after I wet my bed. It was like a part of me was still a baby, and I didn’t want it to go away. I felt the same that morning, but I didn’t get yelled at, and I wasn’t covered in pee. After lunch, I went outside to play while my cousins took their naps. I purposely didn’t use the bathroom, and I drank two glasses of lemonade before heading outside. I was playing in a puddle when I felt the first twinge in my bladder. I told myself to let go and started to pee. I felt the warmth spread in the padding. It felt different than the cloth diapers my aunt used at night. The Pull-up was about to leak, but I kept peeing. I don’t know if my aunt was watching me, or just sensed that I had an accident. She called to me, “Tommy, come over here. I need to check your Pull-up.” I didn’t even have a chance to tell her. I was surprised, and given my condition, I was reluctant to let her see. I don’t know why I was reluctant; she was going to find out eventually. The Pull-up was close to leaking and I needed to change. How did I ever think I would get that past my aunt? I cried, “What? Why?” “You haven’t used the potty since lunch, and I need to see if you’re still dry.” I didn’t want to admit the truth. I answered, “I’m dry, and I did go. I just forgot to tell you.” “That doesn’t matter, I need to check your Pull-Up right now!” This was her no-nonsense voice, and I could tell she was out of patience. I huffed, “Ok,” and trundled over to her. I thought she would be angry when she felt my soggy Pull-up, but she wasn’t. “Oh dear, you’re wet. Is that why you didn’t want me to check?” I shot my eyes down and mumbled, “Yes.” My aunt acted like it was just an accident. “I guess you didn’t know, but you’re supposed to tell me when you have an accident sweetie. If you hide an accident again, you’ll go right back to diapers. Is that understood?” I felt guilty and looked like I was going to cry. Aunt Amanda gently hugged me and said, “It’s ok honey. Sometimes kids have accidents when they are learning to use the potty. Let’s get you cleaned up.” It was the same process that she always did, making sure to thoroughly clean and dry everything before handing me another Pull-up. She warned, “Tommy, you can’t be a big boy if you don’t use the potty. If you have any more accidents between now and Monday, we have to pause your potty training. You’ll go back to diapers.” Part 9? My aunt warned, “Tommy, you can’t be a big boy if you don’t use the potty. If you have any more accidents between now and Monday, we have to pause your potty training. You’ll go back to diapers.” I asked, “How long?” She looked perplexed, and asked,” How long what?” “How long will I have to stay in diapers?” Aunt Amanda tilted her head with a strange look. She asked, “Honey, is that what you want?” I don’t know what would have happened if I told her the truth. I think she was ready to put me in a diaper right there, but I didn’t want her to think I was a freak. I furiously shook my head, which was more of an act, and said, “No, no, no! I just want to know what happens if I have another accident.” Aunt Amanda was dubious but indulged me. She talked to me like I was a child. “Right now, I don’t know if you are ready to use the potty by yourself. That’s why you are wearing Pull-ups. Big kids use the potty by themselves. If you keep having accidents, I know you’re not ready. That means you need diapers, and you can’t be a big kid if you need diapers. Does that make sense?” It didn’t make any sense, but I nodded anyway. I asked, “But for how long?” “You’ll need to be potty-trained before you can wear big boy pants. That can’t happen until you are ready.” “How will you know if I’m ready?” Aunt Amanda calmly answered, “It depends. I knew that Debbie was ready when she stayed dry for a long time and used the potty when I asked her. Now she doesn’t need help using the potty and does it all by herself. Older kids sometimes take longer. You are older than Debbie, so a day won’t feel as long to you. You might need a longer break before you are ready. It’s also very important for you to cooperate with me. I can’t teach you to use the potty if you don’t listen to me.” I remembered what my mom told me. “My mom said that it might take the whole summer. She said if I can’t help it, I need to learn how to change my own diapers, and she won’t do that until I’m ready.” Aunt Amanda nodded, “That’s true. Some adults, and even big kids, have problems getting to the potty, and they have to manage it by themselves. It is called, ‘incontinence’, but that doesn’t mean they are like little kids.” “It doesn’t?” I sounded very childlike, and innocent. “No honey; They can take care of themselves. It’s hard, and they need to be very responsible. I think that’s what your mommy meant when she told you that you weren’t ready for that.” She continued, “And to be honest, I think your mommy is right. You aren’t responsible enough. I know that you sometimes use the potty by yourself, so I know you can do it. However, big kids don’t just do that some of the time, they handle the potty by themselves all of the time. That’s what you still need to show me.” I didn’t get the answer I wanted, but I did get some perspective on my aunt’s thought process. It felt like she was seriously considering putting me in a diaper right there, and there was a part of me that wished she had. However, it was a big step. I still had to wear a diaper for six more nights, which would be almost three weeks in diapers. If she makes me wear one during the day, I might be in diapers all summer. I made it through the rest of the day without an accident, but the ever-perceptive Debbie noticed the frowny face on my chart. “Why does Tommy have a frowny face?” Aunt Amanda sighed, “Tommy went pee-pee in his pants today.” “Is he going to be a baby again?” My aunt gave Debbie a disapproving look. That was close to teasing, and teasing is not allowed. “Debbie! We don’t do that in this house.” Debbie deflected her eyes and mouthed, “Sorry.” I guess she was talking to me, but it didn’t seem directed at anybody in particular. My aunt replied, “No, Tommy still wants to be a big boy.” It was getting easier for me to pee in the diaper at night. I barely had to think about it before I started to pee. I was oddly proud of myself, but I couldn’t explain why. During the day, I was constantly flooded with doubt and anxiety. I felt out of place in the world. At night, I felt like a three-year-old with no responsibilities. I just needed one more accident, and I could get that feeling during the day as well. It dawned on me that I had to act now. In a few days, my aunt might give Scott another chance with Pull-ups. What if I’m wearing a diaper, and Scott gets to wear Pull-ups? I promised myself to pee in my Pull-up in the morning. Aunt Amanda barely acknowledged the soggy diaper that greeted her in the morning. She just said, “Let’s get you two some breakfast, and then I will get you ready for the day.” She cleaned me up carefully, handed me the Pull-Up, and said, “Try to use the potty today. I don’t want you to have any more accidents.” I replied, “Ok, I’ll try,” knowing full well that wasn’t going to happen. My aunt hugged me, “That’s wonderful, sweetheart.” I couldn’t help but notice the twinge of doubt in her voice. At this point, I wasn’t turning back. I was going to wet my Pull-up, and it was just a question of when. There was a part of me that wanted to get it over with, but it was like jumping off the diving board; I couldn’t take it back after it happened. I tried to pee in the morning, but I couldn’t. Jessica came over shortly after 10 o’clock, and the four of us went outside to play. I didn’t want to do it in front of Jessica, so I tried to put it out of my mind. Up until then, I thought I kept this a secret. As far as I knew, she didn’t know I was wearing a Pull-up. I suddenly felt the urge and began to pee, without thinking. I realized what I was doing and tried to stop, but I couldn’t stop peeing. I froze and hoped nobody saw what happened. Jessica noticed and asked, “Tommy, what did you do?” I answered, “Nothing. I was just thinking.” Jessica smirked, “I don’t think that’s it. I know that look. I think somebody peed his pants. Come over here, I need to check your Pull-Up.” “Um, I’m not wearing a Pull-Up.” My stammer and red face might have given it away. “Oh, please! Do you honestly think I haven’t noticed the Pull-ups? I can see the tabs above your waistband. Now come over here and let me check if you’ve had an accident.” “No.” Jessica was talking to me just like I was a petulant child and ordered, “No? Come here, I need to check your Pull-up.” She might have only been thirteen, but she knew exactly how to handle an ornery child. I screamed, “No!” And started to run. I didn’t get very far; Jessica caught me from behind and said, “Got you, you little stinker.” She put her hand on my shorts and said, “Tommy, you’re wet. Let’s tell your aunt.” I pulled away and cried, “No, I don’t want to.” She tugged back and said, “Tommy, you’re only making this bad for yourself. Be a good boy, or I’ll put you in time-out.” I shouted back, “You’re not my babysitter! You can’t put me in time-out.” Jessica snidely asked, “Should we ask your aunt about that?” Aunt Amanda walked outside; “What’s all of the commotion? What’s going on?” Debbie was eager to tell her mom what happened, but Jessica spoke first. “Mrs. Whitmore, I’m afraid Tommy had a little accident and needs another Pull-up. I can help him if you are busy.” It sounds stupid, but until then, it never dawned on me that Jessica could end up changing my diaper. She took care of Scott quite a bit, so it would make sense that she would do the same with me. Much to my relief, Aunt Amanda waved her off. “That’s very nice of you, but I can take it from here. Please keep an eye on Scotty and Debbie, while I’ll take care of Tommy.” Part 10 The best way to describe my aunt’s reaction was disappointment. I don’t know if she thought I did it on purpose, but I don’t think it surprised her. It didn’t matter; she had no choice but to go through with her promise. She said, “Tommy, I don’t know what’s going on, but you aren’t using the potty like you should. We have to take a break from potty training. That means you have to wear diapers until you are ready to try again.” I willingly climbed on the changing table and let her take care of the soggy Pull-up. She calmly asked, “Sweetie, do you want your pacifier?” I nodded, and she put it in my mouth. “There you go. Isn’t that nice?” It’s hard to explain the calming effect sucking on a pacifier has on me. I felt like I melted into the table. I thought my aunt would mock me for acting like a baby, but she didn’t. In her mind, I literally was a baby. She placed the diaper underneath my bottom, and said, “Now sweetie, I don’t want you to worry about making it to the potty. If you need to do a poo-poo or a pee-pee, just go ahead and an adult will take care of your diaper. I don’t want you to try to be a big kid and use the potty. We won’t worry about the potty until you are ready.” I guess this was her way of telling me the bathroom was off-limits. Scott wasn’t allowed to use the potty, so I knew I wouldn’t be either. I felt guilty and mumbled, “I’m sorry.” In her calm voice, she said, “You have nothing to be sorry about. You’re not ready to be a big kid, so you need a break.” My aunt used cloth diapers at night, which seemed to fit me easily. During the day, she used the largest-sized Pampers available, but they were meant for a kid half my size. I wasn’t sure if they would fit. After she finished, I commented, “I didn’t think they would fit me.” Aunt Amanda smiled, “They fit, but just barely. I think I’ll have to get some bigger diapers, just in case.” She then dressed me like I was a two-year-old. She didn’t let me do anything for myself. My shirt was pastel yellow with a big red balloon on the front. The shorts were bright red and had an elastic waistband. It was the kind of thing I wore when I was three. After she finished, she said, “Big kids don’t wear diapers, so you can’t have big kid privileges until you are potty trained. Is that understood?” I nodded. She continued. “Little kids are not allowed to open doors, and not allowed to run off. They have to be with an adult at all times. You also have to ask an adult first, and if the adult says no, that means no. If you pout, or whine, you will go to time out.” I asked, “What about Jessica, is she an adult?” Aunt Amanda replied, “She is to you. She is in charge, and you have to do what she says.” “Is Debbie an adult?” “No, she is a big sister. You can ask her for help, but she is not in charge.” Aunt Amanda held my hand as we walked outside. She got Jessica’s attention and said, “Jessica, honey, can you keep an eye on Tommy?” Jessica gave her a thumbs up, and then my aunt put her hands on my shoulders and said, in a loud voice, “Be a good boy for Jessica.” I looked ridiculous in my toddler-style outfit and well-padded rear. I think it was obvious that I was wearing a diaper. I asked Jessica in a trembling voice, “Are you going to tease me?” Jessica condescendingly asked, “Why would I do that?” “Well, you know, what I’m wearing.” My voice was timid and shy. “What are you wearing?” She knew everything, and just wanted me to say it out loud. “You know.” I paused a bit, and then continued, “Don’t make me say it.” “No, I don’t, Tommy. What are you wearing?” Exasperated, I admitted, “I’m wearing a diaper. My Aunt is making me wear diapers.” She mockingly looked surprised, “You are, and why are you wearing diapers, Tommy? What did you do?” I was annoyed and mumbled as quickly as possible, “I wet my pants.” “You did, didn’t you. I guess that means you aren’t potty trained.” I wanted to run off but knew that wasn’t possible. I nodded, and Jessica continued, “I guess that makes you a little kid, doesn’t it?” I didn’t nod back, but she didn’t care. “I don’t tease little kids; that’s just mean. Don’t worry, I’m not going to tease you. Just remember that I’m in charge, and you can’t argue with me. If you do what I tell you, I’ll be nice.” I guess that’s the best I could hope for. Debbie kept asking, “What happened? Why is Tommy wearing diapers?” I wanted to scream at Debbie, but I knew I would get in trouble, so I gave Jessica a pleading look. Fortunately, Jessica quickly admonished Debbie. “Debbie! Don’t be so nosy. That’s none of your business.” Unfortunately, I hadn’t pooped yet, and breakfast was making it’s way to my bowels. I had let my mind go free while Scott and I were playing in the sandbox and forgot about the new rules. I got up to head for the bathroom. Jessica quickly asked, “Tommy, where do you think you’re going? You can’t run off by yourself.” I replied in a firm voice, “I need to go to the bathroom.” Jessica gave me a serious look, “Tommy, you don’t have to worry about that. That’s why you’re wearing a diaper.” I didn’t want to poop in my diaper and didn’t think Jessica would want to deal with that either. I snapped, “It’s not that. I need to take a shit.” I didn’t think swearing was a big deal, especially in front of kids my age. I didn’t usually swear around little kids, but I didn’t think I said anything wrong. Jessica gave me a dirty look and said, “Tommy Michael, you know better than that. Little boys don’t speak that way.” She pointed to the picnic table and in a firm voice said, “Go to the table. Now!” I have no idea how she knew my middle name, but hearing it is never good. I was more shocked than anything else, and asked, “What? Why?” “You heard me. Go!” She marched me to the table, put a pacifier in my mouth, and said, “Sit! You are in time-out.” I tried to plead my case. I spit the pacifier out, and tried to say, “But I need to go to the bathroom.” However, I didn’t get past the first word before she put the pacifier back in my mouth. “Don’t talk until I take that out! Is that understood?” I was too afraid to respond. She continued, “I know what’s going on, and as long as you are good, and don’t argue with me, I’ll be nice. But, if you don’t obey me, and make this difficult, I’ll make sure everybody knows what a big baby you really are. Do you want that?” I vigorously shook my head and tried to talk, but Jessica wouldn’t let me speak. “No talking! Sit here and think about your words. You are in time-out because you used a naughty word.” Debbie didn’t hear me cuss, and being the curious child she was, asked me, “Tommy, why are you in time-out?” Jessica quickly intercepted, “Debbie, Tommy is in time-out. He can’t talk to you right now.” “I’m sorry.” “It’s ok. Tommy can play after he finishes his time-out.” I hadn’t been put in time-out since I was six years old, and now I was put there by a girl younger than me. It’s a lot to unpack. However, I had to admire Jessica’s poise. It gave me a strange sense of security that is hard to explain. Her maturity belied her age. A short time later she came back and asked, “Are you ready to apologize for saying those naughty words?” She took the pacifier out of my mouth after I nodded back. I started, “I’m sorry, but.” The pacifier immediately went back to my mouth. “No buts. Are you going to say naughty words anymore?” I shook my head, and she nodded back. “Good, you can go back to playing after you apologize for real.” I replied, “I’m sorry.” “For what? What are you sorry about?” “I’m sorry I cussed.” Jessica smiled, “You’re forgiven. I think you’ve learned your lesson.” I raised my hand and waved, “Can I say something?” “What is it?” “I still need to poo.” Jessica shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you are taking a break from the potty. That means you have to use your diaper.” She pointed to a corner of the yard and said, “If you want, you can do it there.” I answered, “I can’t do that out here.” Jessica put the pacifier back in my mouth and smirked, “Obviously, that’s not always true, is it?” A few minutes later, Jessica took us into the kitchen for lunch and told my aunt, “He says he needs to poo, but he hasn’t done it yet.” It was humiliating to hear people talk about my bowel movements that way. Aunt Amanda nodded, “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll give him some time, but I might have to help him if he hasn’t pooped by dinner.” She turned to me and said, ‘Honey, it’s not good to hold it in.” I sat in my highchair at lunch, right next to Scott. We both had bibs around our necks, and our sandwiches were cut into small pieces. We also had sippy cups, while Debbie got to use a real cup. We took our naps after lunch. I still had to poo, and I was mad, so I decided to go in my diaper. I figured it would be a fitting punishment to make my aunt change my stinky diaper. There weren't any clocks in the nursery, so I had no idea how long I would have to wait until my aunt woke us up. I just had to wait, and deal with the smell. She reacted immediately after opening the nursery door. “I think somebody has a stinky diaper!” She checked Scott first. “Was it you?” She felt the front and then checked the back. “No, not you. You aren’t even wet. You were a big boy, and that makes Mommy very proud.” It was my turn. She felt the front and said, “You went pee-pee. Let’s see about the poo-poo.” She opened it up and in an almost proud voice said, “Yep, you did. And you did a big one. I’m happy that you don’t need any help going poo-poo.” I was confused, and asked, “Aren’t you mad?” Aunt Amanda replied, “Why would I be mad? It’s not healthy to hold your poop. I told you to use your diaper, and you did. That means you are a good boy.” Part 11 My aunt didn’t care what anybody thought. She acted like this was completely normal. She put two strollers in the car when we went to Reno the next day. I realized that the other one was for me and cried, “I can’t ride in that!” Aunt Amanda asked, “Why not?” “I’m too old. People will think it’s weird.” Aunt Amanda scoffed, “You’re wearing a diaper and that makes you a little kid. Little kids need to use a stroller.” “Why? I don’t need a stroller. I’m not going to get tired.” My aunt shook her head, “I’m sorry honey. It’s not safe to let you wander off. The stroller keeps you and Scotty close, and you won’t get lost.” I whined, “I won’t get lost. I promise, I won’t wander away. I promise.” Aunt Amanda replied in a firm voice. “Tommy, go suck on your pacifier and stop whining.” I was smart enough to know I wasn’t going to win. I hadn’t won a single battle with my aunt. I didn’t want anybody to see me, especially somebody from my school. She took the strollers out of the car after we parked, and I begged, “Please, Aunt Amanda. You can’t make me do this. It’s humiliating.” My aunt didn’t want a debate. She demanded, “Tommy, get in the stroller, now!” I knew she wasn’t going to back down, however, I still tried to resist. I wasn’t a baby. I didn’t need diapers, and I definitely didn’t need to ride in a stroller. I had to take a stand, and not let her humiliate me in public. I tried to muscle up my strongest voice, but I was starting to cry. Rather than sounding strong, I pleaded between sobs, “Pleese Au-unt Amanda! Pleese! I’m sorry, I’ll never do this again. I’ll do anything, just don’t make me go out like this.” Aunt Amanda was unimpressed with my theatrics. She put the pacifier back in my mouth and said, “Stop with the dramatics. You’re only making it worse for yourself by making a scene. You have two choices: sit in the stroller like a good boy, or we can go home, and you’ll go straight to the playpen.” I didn’t know what she meant by the playpen, but I saw Scott shaking his head and prompting me to stop. It sounded bad, so I reluctantly sat down in the stroller. I think these were bigger than most strollers, but they looked like any other stroller. They were connected side by side, which allowed Scott and I to talk while we were pushed around town. It felt like everybody was watching us, but most people didn’t seem to pay attention. Scott looked too old to be in a stroller, but not that far off. Somebody might think he was just a big four-year-old, and that’s still young enough to use a stroller. I clearly was too old and too big to use a stroller. Nobody would ever think I was young enough to need a stroller. I saw people stare, which made sense. We both looked way too old for a stroller, and I was sucking on a pacifier. It caused a scene, but my aunt didn’t care. One young kid saw us and asked, “Mommy, why are those big kids in strollers?” The mom knew we heard and was embarrassed. She replied, “I don’t know honey, but it’s not polite to stare.” My aunt and uncle wanted a date night that weekend and needed a babysitter. Jessica was the obvious choice, but my aunt wanted to let her parents know about me. Jessica’s mom wasn’t comfortable with the two of us being together without supervision. When Jessica realized what her mom was thinking, she scoffed at the idea. “Mom! Please. Yuck! He’s wearing a diaper. Nothing like that will happen. You don’t have a problem when I change Scott.” “No, but Scott is younger than you.” Jessica remarked, “Mom, Tommy is the same as Scott. He’s just a little boy who still needs diapers. I don’t think of him that way at all.” Jessica’s mom asked my aunt, “Is she telling the truth? Does Tommy wear diapers? Aunt Amanda answered, “He does. Tommy had a setback with his potty training, so I put him back in diapers. Jessica is right, there really is no difference between Tommy and Scott. They are both little boys, and Jessica handles them like a pro. She won’t let him get away with much, and that boy was a nightmare for me until I put him back in diapers.” Jessica pleaded, “Mom, please let me do this. Mrs. Whitmore is going to pay me $20 an hour.” Jessica’s mom turned back to my aunt, “$20 an hour?” My aunt said, “Well, it’s three kids. Jessica may be young, but she is a great babysitter, and the kids adore her.” Jessica noted, “Tommy is just a little kid, or at least he acts like one.” Jessica’s mom nodded and then asked my aunt, “Are you saying Tommy hasn’t given you any problems since you put him back in diapers?” Aunt Amanda nodded, “It’s true. Last week, he was an absolute nightmare. He had an awful attitude and wouldn’t do anything around the house. He sulked and pouted whenever I asked him to do anything. I know he’s not a bad kid and he’s had a rough go at it these last few years. Since Thursday, he’s been a different kid. Sure, there’s been a few tantrums, but they’re short-lived and easily rectified. He calms right down when I give him a pacifier. He is more compliant and hasn’t whined nearly as much. I can’t trust him to do any chores, but that was never worth the hassle. I know it’s odd, but he seems happier.” Jessica’s mom looked intrigued, “You don’t say. I might have to try that with Jason. That boy has been a real pill since school let out.” She looked at Jessica and said, “Don’t say anything to your brother.” Jessica was strict, but nice. I guess that makes her a good babysitter. We had to follow all of the rules. She made me eat all of my vegetables, but then gave us some cake for dessert. My aunt doesn’t usually give us any dessert, so that was a treat. The four of us played a board game after dinner, but Jessica made sure we were in bed by eight o’clock. Scott and I both had baths before she got there. However, she had to change my diaper before bedtime. She didn’t make a big deal about it and acted like it was normal. Fortunately, I didn’t give Jessica any problems. I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to put me in time-out, and my aunt warned me before she left. “If you give Jessica any issues, I’m putting you in the playpen tomorrow.” I asked Scott, “What does she mean by the playpen?” Scott answered, “You don’t want that. If I’m naughty, Mommy makes me sit in a playpen all day, and I’m not allowed to have any toys. It’s like time-out, except it’s the whole day.” That warning kept me in check. After a few days, I realized my life is easier if I don’t complain and just go along with my aunt. Within a week, I understood the routine and knew what was expected of me, which was basically nothing. I had no responsibilities and no real decisions to make. I was praised for following her rules and doing what she wanted. I was also praised when I used my diaper and always got a hug after my diaper was changed. I didn’t get very much positive attention in those days, so I responded well to praise. On the other hand, attempts at independence were quickly quashed, usually with a mild reprimand. Scott got to use the potty after the weekend; I guess that meant he was ready to be potty-trained. I knew my turn was coming, which I thought would happen in just a few days. By Wednesday, Scott was in Pull-ups, which made me the only baby in the house. I still had diapers, had the same rules, and had to wait patiently for my turn. Scott got to wear underwear the following Monday and was dry in the morning. He got to eat breakfast from the table, and I still had to sit in my highchair. I knew Scott would be completely out of diapers soon, and I still wasn’t allowed to use the potty. I asked, “When can I use the potty again? It’s been more than a week.” I didn’t want to get in trouble, but I didn’t want this to last forever. My aunt nonchalantly answered, “Don’t worry. We will try again when you are ready.” I protested, “But Scott only had to wait a week. Why do I have to wait so long?” I tried not to whine, but I’m sure I was. To her credit, Aunt Amanda didn’t get mad. I had an honest concern, and my protest made sense. She calmly replied, “That’s because Scott is younger than you. A week to you isn’t very long, but at Scotty’s age, it feels much longer. When you are older, you need longer breaks. That means when we start again, we get a fresh start. If you keep being good, I think you will be ready soon.” Four days later, which was after fourteen days in diapers, I got to poop in the potty. I was praised and even allowed to wipe after. However, my aunt had to finish. I wasn’t clean enough, so she had to finish before putting me in a new diaper. She warned, “You have to do a better job wiping. If you can’t wipe properly, you will have to stay in diapers.” After she changed my diaper, she said, “It’s time to see if you are ready for Pull-ups. Tell me when you need to use the potty, and I’ll take you.” Unfortunately, I was used to peeing in my diaper. After a couple of wet diapers, my aunt said, “I guess you’re not ready. Let’s wait. We will try again in a few weeks.” Epilogue That happened three years ago. I’m now going into my senior year in high school and thinking about college. I don’t know what college I want to go to, but I have the grades to go to UC Berkeley or any other top school. I want to study computer science, and my grades are good enough. My grades weren’t very good in middle school. I got C’s and D’s, and I was hanging out with a bad crowd. I don’t think I was a bad kid, but I was immature and trying to impress kids I thought were cool. I guess being put in diapers changed my attitude. I stopped trying to pretend that I was something I wasn’t. I ended up spending the entire summer in diapers. I got to wear Pull-ups a few times, but always went back to diapers. By the end of July, Scott was out of diapers at night, which left me alone in the nursery. My mom’s tour was extended, and I had to stay with my aunt through Christmas. I had more accidents, so I was diapered most of that time. It was a virtual high school, and my aunt kept a tight rein on me. I ended up with straight A’s that semester. I moved back with my mom after Christmas. I didn’t start at my high school until January. By then my old friends had different friends and they ignored me. This is where things get strange. My mom gave me the same freedoms and responsibilities that other kids had, and I didn’t handle it well. I started to argue with my mom, and my grades suffered. I did better when my mom put me back in diapers. She eventually discovered diapers were the key. As long as I have to wear a diaper, she can give me the same freedoms and responsibilities that other kids have. I’m now in diapers all the time, and I’m not allowed to change my diaper. I’m not even allowed to ask; I have to wait until somebody checks my diaper. My mom is responsible for my diapers, and if she can’t be there, somebody else is. It’s been this way since 10th grade. I’m not treated like a baby all of the time, but my mom will give me extra attention when she thinks I need it. We aren’t sure how to handle college yet, but that’s not my problem. I have no say in the matter. My cousins are doing fine. Scott still has accidents and needs diapers sometimes, but not all the time. Debbie hasn’t needed diapers for a long time. I stay with my aunt during the summer, and I still have to follow the same rules when I’m there. Jessica is still our babysitter, but she also takes care of her older brother Jason, who is now in diapers and treated like a toddler.

This is the last of the Nikki & Sarah stories in the first story arc which took place in 2015. If this is your first Nikki & Sarah story, you might want to read the previous ones first. Here's a list: Nikki & Sarah - Index thread ------------------------------------------------ New beginnings The plane came to a halt and the seat belt light went out. Everywhere around Nikki people started to get up to get their bags. She resisted the urge to do the same, telling herself that she might as well sit and wait rather than stand. She was so far from the exit that it would still be several minutes before she could get out. Nikki's thoughts were interrupted as the man in a suit and tie that had been sitting in the window seat next to hers, tried to get past her to the already packed aisle. She pushed back in her seat to let him pass and muttered a few choice expletives. "What?" he asked and turned, giving Nikki an extremely close look at his tie. "Oh nothing," she answered diplomatically. The man had been rude and annoying the entire flight and Nikki really didn't feel like an argument. She just wanted to get off the plane, get home to her bed and sleep for a day. Spending Christmas with her family had seemed like a good idea at first. The fact that they told her she couldn't bring Sarah was infuriating, but not unexpected. Nikki's parents were still refusing to accept the fact that she was a lesbian, calling it awful and sinful and wrong. Nikki had managed to hold her tongue up until the Christmas day dinner when her mother had tried to set her up with "a really nice, young man" who had proved to be not only just as bigoted than her parents, but also more than a little racist. She had exploded, yelled at more or less everybody, leaving them shocked at the table as she stormed out. She had spent the remaining two days of her stay crashing on her older brother Michael's couch before flying back home. The aisle was becoming less crowded as the people in business class had made their way off the plane. That meant that filthy peasant class was next. After another minute or two, Nikki got up and pulled her bag out of the overhead compartment. She gave her seat a quick check and realised she had forgotten her book in the seat pocket. She grabbed it and tucked it under her arm before following the slow crowd towards the exit. As soon as she was off the plane and had a little room, she set her bag down, placed the book inside and put on her jacket. Then she headed for the luggage carousel. At least I don't have to wait for ages for my bag to arrive. Nikki leaned against a pillar and rubbed her sore neck while she watched the conveyor belt filled with suitcases and bags of all shapes and sizes; none of them hers. Finally Nikki's high-visibility, fluorescent yellow bag slid down the chute and onto the belt. She grabbed it and began to make her way through the crowd towards the exit, one of the wheels on her bag squeaking softly. She felt a bit of justified schadenfreude when she passed her seat neighbour, still impatiently waiting for his luggage. Nikki walked through the doors to the arrival hall and let the buzz of hundreds of conversations wash over her. Being in a crowd like this felt good. She could be just another face passing by, not having to defend every decision she'd ever made. Not having to- "Nikki!" ...not having to care about what her par- "Nikki!" Nikki was pulled from her thoughts. She looked in the direction of the voice and saw Sarah, standing in the crowd holding a sign with "Nikki" and lots of red hearts. She changed course and walked right into a hug that felt better than anything she had felt for a week. "Thanks sweetie," Nikki mumbled into Sarah's neck. She closed her eyes and inhaled the almost cinnamon-like scent that was uniquely Sarah's. Sarah just held Nikki and slowly stroked her back. "You sounded like you needed a hug on the phone," she finally said. "I did." Nikki reluctantly let go of Sarah and the sign that had been crumpled between their bodies fell to the floor. She grabbed the bag again and let Sarah steer her towards the exit closest to the parking garage outside. "So, what's the deal with the sign?" Nikki asked, dropping the crumpled paper in a trash can. "Afraid I wouldn't recognise you? I haven't been gone that long you know." Sarah smiled sheepishly. "I just wanted to do like in those stupid, romantic movies." "Aww." Nikki slipped an arm around Sarah's waist and pulled her closer. They reached Sarah's car and loaded Nikki's bag in the trunk. When they were both in the car, Sarah leaned in close and pulled down the scarf and turtleneck to reveal her collar underneath. She fidgeted theatrically. "And I even wore my funderwear for you," she said coyly. "Your what?" "My funderwear. My diapers." "My god, you're such a dork." Nikki smiled and took Sarah's hand. She held it to her cheek and gave the palm a kiss. "It's not that I don't appreciate you trying to cheer me up. I really do. But right now, I really don't feel like playing." "Oh," Sarah said quietly. "I'm sorry." "Nononono, don't be. I really do love it that you wanted to cheer me up, it's just that I've had a shitty few days and I just don't want to think about it." "It was that bad?" Nikki nodded. "Mmm-hmm." "Well, in that case I know just the thing," Sarah said and started the engine. *** An hour later they stumbled through the door to Sarah's apartment, balancing Nikki's big, yellow bag, a plastic bag from the grocery store down the street and a large pizza box in far too few hands. Sarah kicked off her shoes after pushing the door closed with her butt. "Why don't you go take a shower to get rid of the airplane sweat and I'll get things ready here," she said. Nikki shrugged off her jacket and headed for the bathroom. A hot shower, pizza and TV. Just what the doctor ordered. Nikki stood in the shower with her forehead against the wall and let the warm water cascade down her neck and back. As her muscles slowly began to relax, she realised just how tense she had been, and also how much she smelled of old cigarette smoke. That's the last time I sleep on Michael's couch. She spat and reached for the shampoo. Fifteen minutes later Nikki emerged from the steam-filled bathroom wrapped in Sarah's far too big, terrycloth bathrobe and still trying to get the towel to stay on her head. Hearing the TV, she padded towards the living room, ignoring the damp footprints her bare feet were making on the hallway floor. On the sofa, Sarah had wrapped herself in their big, fuzzy blanket. "Feel better?" she asked. "Mm-hm." Nikki gave up on the towel and just let it hang on her head like a giant hood. "Good. Now get over here." Sarah lifted the blanket to reveal that she was only wearing her diapers and a t-shirt. "You know," Nikki said as she crossed the room and sat down next to Sarah. "That's quite a bossy thing to say for somebody wearing diapers and a collar." "Oh shush. You don't have to be all dominatrixy just because I want to snuggle. You said you didn't feel like playing and I respect that." "And the diapers? I mean, it's not that you don't look cute in them, but if we're not playing..." Sarah leaned closer and whispered in Nikki's ear. "Sometimes I wear them just because I want it for myself. Even if you're not there." "And this is one of those times?" Nikki allowed Sarah to wrap the blanket around her to enclose them both in a warm and fuzzy cocoon. "Wellllll, I was already wearing them," Sarah said. "And it seemed like a waste to take them off while they're still dry." "Always the economical one, aren't you," Nikki stroked Sarah's forearms. "Sure, we can call it that." Sarah wrapped her arms around Nikki and pulled her closer, one hand 'accidentally' slipping inside the robe. "So, are you ready for a little girlfriend therapy?" "Mm-hm." There was a small gust of cool air as Sarah slipped an arm out from under the blanket. She reached down over the arm rest on the sofa and brought back a bottle of Sprite with a straw. After a few fumbled attempts, Sarah managed to hit Nikki's mouth and she sucked hungrily. "Now," Sarah wiggled the remote control in front of Nikki. "Nightmare Before Christmas or Gremlins?" "Honestly? As long as I get to stay like this, I don't care." Nikki tilted her head back and gave Sarah a quick, lemon-flavoured kiss. The next hour and a half consisted mostly of pizza, drinks and cheesy one-liners. At some point, Nikki wriggled out of the robe and snuggled closer to Sarah, pushing her t-shirt up as far as it would go. She marvelled at how relaxing that skin-on-skin sensation was. At one point she had to push away one of Sarah's wandering hands and awkwardly reach around her to give her butt a playful little smack. When the movie was over and the pizza had been devoured, the Sarah addressed the elephant in the room. "Want to talk about it?" "Not really," Nikki replied. She snuggled closer in an attempt to distract Sarah. "OK," Sarah said, "but you know that you'll just end up being cranky and irritable for weeks." Nikki sighed. "It's just my parents. They just can't accept that I'm not straight. You know, 'it's just a phase' and 'you just haven't met the right boy yet'. They even tried to set me up with this mouthbreather of a guy during the Christmas dinner." Sarah grimaced. "But don't they-" "I just wish they'd understand how happy I am right now, with you." "Aww." Sarah kissed Nikki's forehead. "So they really don't like me then?" "Well..." Nikki grinned. "It's not really you that they don't like, but the fact you don't have a penis." "Maybe your mother's just worried she's not going to be a grandmother." Nikki snorted. "Paul has that handled. He already has two little rugrats. And knowing Michael, he might have a kid or two that even he doesn't know about yet." "Then I guess it wouldn't help to tell her that you do have somebody whose diapers need changing on a semi-regular basis." Nikki stared at Sarah and began to laugh. "You're right," she finally managed. "That probably wouldn't help. You'd just be the horrible deviant who corrupted her baby girl." "Oh reeeeeaaaally?" Sarah wiggled her eyebrows. "I guess inviting them here next year is out of the question then." "Yeah." Nikki sighed and leaned back against Sarah. They sat there, in a comfortable silence, Sarah slowly stroking Nikki's hair. Then suddenly, Nikki felt Sarah's diaper, resting against her hip, grow warm against her skin. "Did you just-" "Uh-huh." "You're getting really casual about using your diapers." Maybe a little too casual. "Yeah, that Halloween party sort of helped me get over the whole thing about wearing them in public. I mean, as long as I take some precautions, nobody's going to notice them anyway." Nikki slid a hand down to rest on the warm plastic. "And you like that?" she whispered. Sarah nodded. For a while they just lay there on the sofa, not moving, not talking, just being. Eventually Nikki broke the spell. "Do you need to get changed?" she asked. Sarah shook her head. "It can wait." Nikki sighed happily as Sarah resumed stroking her hair. "It's weird," Sarah said. "Sometimes I actually have to remind myself I'm not wearing them." "Oh?" "Yeah. Mostly when I'm at home though." "So you've had an accident or two?" "No. But it's been close a couple of times. Especially at night." Something shifted inside Nikki's mind. "And have you been... taking precautions?" "Nah, I wake up in time. I just have to remind myself when I wake up that I'm not wearing my diapers." "I think it'd be a good idea to take precautions..." Nikki turned over so she was facing Sarah. "...from now on." "That's not necessary. I alw-" Sarah protested. Nikki pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. "What made you think you had any choice in the matter?" she purred. "Now I say that I think it'd be a good idea to take precautions, and you say?" Sarah smiled and swallowed. "Yes Ma'am," she whispered. *** Nikki woke up as the sun peeked in through her window. She could feel the weight of Sarah's head resting on her shoulder and her arm across her stomach. Nikki squinted against the light and saw that Sarah had her legs more or less wrapped around one of hers. The big, puffy plastic pants hiding the equally big towel diaper rested firmly against her thigh. It trapped so much heat that it was hard for Nikki to feel if Sarah had wet herself. I really hate doing this. Yesterday was so great and I really, really don't want to go to work today. Nikki started to gently stroke Sarah's hair to wake her up. It didn't take too long before she stirred and opened her eyes. "Mmm-mornin'," Sarah mumbled and rubbed her eyes. "Morning sweetie," Nikki answered and kissed her forehead. "Sleep well?" "Had the weirdest dream." Sarah let her hand wander from Nikki's stomach and up towards her breasts. "Good-weird or bad-weird?" "You were in it, and you were wearing this really shiny, rubber catsuit and..." Sarah paused as she realised what she was saying. "Not that I want that," she quickly amended. "Of course not. That's why you kept saying 'no fingerprints' in your sleep. Makes perfect sense" Nikki smiled when she saw the blush on Sarah's face. I love it when she does that. She reached down to squeeze Sarah's diapered butt-cheek. "Sounds like you have a few more kinks than just your diapers." "Maybe. But I don't hear you complaining when I have to tell you about them," Sarah said defensively. "Well, I get to dress in all sorts of naughty outfits when I'm being all mistressy," Nikki answered with mock indignation. "It's kinda part of the deal." "I liiiiiike that deal." Sarah gave Nikki's left breast a kiss. Aaaaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhh!!! "I like that deal too sweetie. Unfortunately, this mistress has work to go to." "Aww. Can't we just stay here? Just a little?" "No. I have to make up for these last days off." "That's not fair. They were sucky days off. They shouldn't count," Sarah complained. "Except yesterday. Yesterday was nice." "Yes it was sweetie, but I really have to get ready for work." Sarah sighed deeply. "OK. I'll make you some breakfast before you go. You have time for that, right?" "That depends." Nikki grinned and gave Sarah's butt another squeeze. "Does my little girl need changing first?" Sarah blew a raspberry in response. Nikki extricated her leg and got out of bed, tip-toeing naked out the door and towards the bathroom. Ten minutes and a really quick shower later, Nikki stood in front of Sarah's big wardrobe trying to find a reasonably-casual-Tuesday-between-Christmas-and-New-year outfit from the limited number of clothes she kept at Sarah's place. After rejecting two tops and a skirt she hadn't worn in a at least half a year anyway, Nikki settled on a white men's shirt and charcoal slacks. After she got dressed, she looked at herself in the mirror. It's a little butch, but I can pull it off. The smell of toast and coffee drew Nikki to the kitchen, but when she entered she was a little surprised to see what Sarah was wearing: Fluffy bunny slippers, the big diapers and nothing else. "Oooh, you look niiiiiice," Sarah said when she saw Nikki. "Um, er, thanks," Nikki finally managed, a little thrown by Sarah's outfit, or rather lack thereof. She certainly seems to be getting more and more comfortable with wearing those. Sarah handed Nikki a steaming mug of coffee before fishing two pieces of toast out of the toaster. She put them next to two others on a plate on the table and absent-mindedly brushed the crumbs from her fingers. Nikki sat down by the table while Sarah got butter, jam and some cheese from the fridge. Then she sat down across the table from Nikki. "So..." Sarah started while spreading butter on a piece of toast. Do you think it'll be a busy day today?" "Uh, maybe. I have a little bit of catching up to do," Nikki said. Sarah's bare chest and the diaper Nikki knew was hidden by the table combined with the casual way she was just eating breakfast by the sunlight coming in through the blinds was just so distracting. Get it together Nikki. You sound like a moron. Sarah took a bite of the toast and chewed. She licked a bit of jam from her lips before taking a sip of coffee. "I know you've had a shitty couple of days, but are you going to be all right?" "Yeah. It's just..." Nikki gestured towards Sarah, waving her hands up and down. "Ah, don't worry about it. It's not like anybody's going to see it. I mean with the blinds like this you'd have to be on the roof of the building across the street to be able to see in and-" Sarah looked out the window and jumped, pushing her chair back. "Shit! There's somebody up there." "What?!? Where?" Nikki looked all over the top of the building, but couldn't see anybody. Then she saw the grin on Sarah's face. "Hah! I had you," she said. "I definitely had you." "Oh, you're a bad, bad girl. You're going to regret that." Nikki sat back down again and Sarah pulled her chair back to the table. "Maybe, but it was soooo worth it." Sarah took another bite of toast. "Seriously though, how busy are the next couple of days going to be for you?" "Why do you ask?" Nikki stared into her mug, trying to figure out if she had time for a second cup. "I wanted to do something special for you for New Year's Eve, and it's going to take a little time to get everything ready." "And?" "And I was thinking maybe we could stay at your place until then." "Of course sweetie. But remember I have paper-thin walls and nosy neighbours so we're going to have to pretend to be really vanilla." "Or be really quiet." "Yeah." Nikki laughed. "Or that." *** Nikki sighed and leaned back in her chair, looking at the number of messages in her email inbox and the piles of paper on her desk. 'A little bit of catching up' my arse. This is more like running a fucking marathon against Paula Radcliffe. The Christmas weekend had turned out to be a perfect storm. While Nikki had been away, a supplier had filed for bankruptcy, a power outage had wiped out almost a whole day's work and one of Nikki's team members had been forced to take some unpaid vacation time, or possibly he was fired. Rumour had it that he'd attacked the therapist during one of the anger management classes the HR department had made him attend. Nikki wasn't sure if she believed it, but had to admit that it didn't sound entirely implausible. Regardless of whether the rumours were true or not, the net result had been a giant pile of work for Nikki. She had had to call Sarah to let her know that she was going to have to pull some serious overtime to get caught up and that she probably wouldn't have the time nor the energy for any fun the next couple of days. Nikki admitted that she had taken the news better than expected. She took a bite of the stale vending machine sandwich that was pretending to be her lunch and glared at the pile of paper. She had been fighting it for three hours and she had barely made a dent. Just as she was about to dive back in, her phone made a happy little chirp. Sarah: About what time do you think you'll be home. I'm planning dinner. Nikki: Dont know. Late probly. Ill just grab somethng on the way. Sarah: Oh no. These next couple of days I'm taking care of you. Prepare to be pampered? Nikki: Thats my line sweetie 😉 Sarah: 😛 The next couple of days had been brutal. Nikki was quite certain that if it hadn't been for Sarah taking care of her, she would have been a complete mess. Especially after her mother had called her to let her know she had forgotten some things when she left. For some reason or other her mother had started criticising Nikki and her 'lifestyle' and had gone into full rant-mode so Nikki couldn't even get in a word edgewise. Sarah had seen she was getting more and more upset so she had motioned for her to hand over the phone. When Nikki had given it to her, she had promptly hung up, cutting off Nikki's mother mid-sentence. When she inevitably called back, Sarah had answered the phone and said what she wished she could have said herself. Listen you shrill shrew. If you're so blinkered by your own personal hangups that you can't see that you're hurting your daughter, then you ought to be ashamed of yourself. We are together. She makes me happy and I'm pretty sure it's mutual. Nikki is not your little girl any more. She is a grown woman and she's allowed to make her own decisions and if you can't handle that you can take a running start and jump off the big fuck-you-pier. Then she had just hung up, walked over to Nikki and hugged her. Nikki had just buried her face in Sarah's sweater, hating herself for crying. Sarah had just held her, slowly stroking her hair and her back and letting her get it all out of her system. Afterwards, she had felt completely spent, but in a good way. *** By lunchtime new year's eve, Nikki was was finally approaching something that resembled being up to date. It had taken a minor miracle to find a firm that could handle supplies temporarily until a more permanent contract could be set up but she had managed that. A date with one of Nikki's co-workers had been negotiated down to a bottle of twelve-year-old whisky for the creepy IT-guy who had spent the better part of an afternoon digging around the system to recover most of the lost data. And last, but not least, everybody on her team had pitched in to handle the extra workload caused by being one man short. Nikki looked over the remaining work before standing up. Feeling like a general addressing the troops, she cleared her throat. "OK guys, I'm sure you all have places you'd rather be than here, so I'll be brief." There was a murmur of assent. "What we've managed these last couple of days is nothing short of a miracle. Another hour or two and we should be done and we can all enjoy a long weekend off. I know I will." When Nikki returned to her desk, she saw there was a message on her phone from Sarah to call her when she had the time. She gave the remaining work another quick glance before finding some privacy to return the call. "Hi sweetie," Nikki said when Sarah answered. "What's up?" "Oh, nothing much. I'm just putting some finishing touches on a few things. I was just wondering when you think you'll be done today." "I don't know. Three hours, maybe a little more." "So, four-ish?" "I guess. Why? You have something planned?" "Oh yeah. When you get home, I want you to put on your most mistressy clothes before coming over tonight?" "Sounds like you've planned something big." "Wellllll..." Sarah hesitated ever so slightly. "I just wanted to make sure we get the year started the right way... Ma'am." Nikki could almost hear Sarah's grin as she added that final word. "And you want to be a good little girl, don't you?" Nikki couldn't help arching an eyebrow even though there was no way for Sarah to see it. "Maybe not that good. You may have to be a little strict if I'm naughty." Nikki laughed. "Don't you know just what to say." "I do my best. Will you call me when you leave your place so I can get everything ready?" "Of course sweetie." Thank you, Ma'am." Sarah made kissing noises before hanging up, leaving Nikki with a smile that really seemed to confuse her team when she came back. *** Almost four hours later, Nikki walked through her front door. The apartment was deathly silent. There wasn't even any noise from her neighbours. They must have gone to celebrate with someone else. Or started drinking really early. Nikki took off her shoes and coat and headed into the living room. She flipped through five or six CDs before finding one that caught her fancy. Seconds later David Bowie's Ashes to Ashes filled the room and Nikki sang along while she half walked, half danced to the bathroom. The hot water hammered down on Nikki's skull, almost, but not quite, drowning out the music. Nikki just stood there, feeling herself go from work mode to a far more relaxed weekend mode. Three days off Nikki. This is going to be glorious. It took Nikki quite a while before she felt ready to turn off the water and let the cold air outside the shower hit her. She quickly dried herself and went to the bedroom. Finding 'the most mistressy' clothes proved to be a bit of a challenge. It wasn't as if Nikki had an abundance to choose from, but with the right attitude, anything could work. OK, underwear: Something small, black and silky. It didn't take Nikki long to fit something that would fit the bill. The tight, black, leather pants were also pretty much a no-brainer since they were clearly Sarah's favourites. At least until I end up wearing something even shinier and smoother. Nikki paused for a moment trying to imagine Sarah's reaction to the latex pants she kept hinting to. Her head would probably explode. The top proved trickier to pick out. There was a crisp, white blouse that would contrast nicely with the black leather. Nope. Too similar to what I wear to work. Next she considered a charcoal turtleneck sweater. Yeah, like I want to look like one of those Steve Jobs wannabes in an Apple store. Her hand brushed against a joke t-shirt with a corset print on that Sarah had bought for her. Yeah, riiiiiiiiiiiight. Nikki was just about to tear out her hair when she spotted something something that made her think. She pulled out the dark red top she had worn the day Sarah first wore a diaper for her, almost a year earlier. Yes! If this doesn't set the mood, I don't know what will. She put it on and checked herself out in the mirror, trying to give herself a stern look. After packing some clothes and hers and Sarah's favourite toys in an overnight bag, Nikki let the final seconds of Ziggy Stardust play out before switching off the stereo and calling Sarah. "Hey there sweetie," she said when Sarah picked up. "I just thought I'd let you know I'm on my way out the door now." "Great. By the way, would you mind swinging by a hardware store or something to pick up some duct tape on the way? "Oooh, planning something naughty?" Nikki grinned at the thought of Sarah all wrapped up in tape; squirming and completely helpless. Sarah laughed. "Not really. Sorry. I just need to fix something." "OK. I should be there in half an hour's time." "You almost sound disappointed. You were hoping I'd be wearing a couple of little patches of tape and nothing more, weren't you." "I will neither confirm nor deny," Nikki said facetiously. "Not even a little hint? Some inspiration for a story maybe?" "Nope." "Aaaww. What if I promise to be a good girl and obey all my beloved mistress' commands?" "Oh you're going to do that anyway my little pet," Nikki purred. "Now you behave yourself until I get there. OK? No-" "No playing with myself. I know," Sarah interrupted, her voice dripping with mock exasperation. "Also, no interrupting. Good little girls know when to keep quiet." "Yes Ma'am," Sarah said meekly. "I'm sorry. I'll be good." "That's better. Now, see you in a little bit." Nikki was sure she could hear a giggle on the other end of the line as she hung up. Maybe I should chastise her for that too. Nikki opened the CD-player, took the David Bowie CD and put it back in its cover before dropping it into her bag. Aaaaand some good music to start the new year with: Check. *** Nikki checked her watch as she fumbled one-handed with her keys. Fifty-two minutes. If I ever end up behind a little, old lady who starts arguing with the one cashier working about the price of plastic bags and how they were cheaper before. And then buying them along with a reciprocating saw and insisting on paying for them with change she digs out of her handbag. If that ever happens again, I'm going to lose it. She opened the door and was met with a warm breath of air that smelled like chocolate cake. "Sarah, It's me," she called. "Be right there." Sarah's voice came from down the hall. Nikki put her shoes on the rack next to the door and hung her coat on of the hooks. She was just about to head down the hallway to put her bag in the bedroom when Sarah came out of the bathroom. She was wearing light grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt. "Oh wow!" she said when she saw Nikki's outfit. "You look..." she paused, clearly trying to find the right word. "Incredible." Sarah wrapped her arms around Nikki and gave her a big hug. "I'll put the bag away when I get dressed," she said. Then she took Nikki's hands in hers and walked backwards, gently pulling Nikki towards the living room. What Nikki saw when she walked through the door made her speechless. All the furniture had been pushed up against the walls and in the middle of the room was a big tent made of what looked like several sheets. And there were candles everywhere. A small, safety-minded voice in the back of Nikki's head told her that most of them had to be electric, otherwise they'd be a serious fire-hazard. "I wanted to do this on the roof, but it's just too cold. We're practically only a couple of degrees up from the heat death of the universe." Sarah led Nikki to the giant pile of cushions and duvets in the tent and helped her sit down. "You just relax and I'll get dressed too. Oh, where's the duct tape?" "In my coat pocket," Nikki said absent-mindedly. She was still taking everything in. The tent had been set up so they had a view out of the living room windows. There was a small table with cakes and coffee mugs next to the pile Nikki was sitting in the middle of and under the windows, between two small electric radiators was the TV. The screen showed a burning fireplace. Nikki leaned back and looked up at the ceiling and the how the flickering, golden lights created dancing patterns that were almost hypnotic. She was so absorbed that she almost missed the sound of bare feet against the hallway floor. The sound was muted when Sarah stepped from the hallway and onto the living room carpet. When she came around the tent so Nikki could see her, however, she was still surprised at what she saw. Sarah was wearing an enormous diaper and nothing else. Hanging from the collar around her neck was the chain leash they had bought almost a year earlier. She knelt next to the pillows and lowered her gaze. "That's... I mean..." Nikki was at a loss for words. Finally her brain caught up with her and she cleared her throat. "You... You look absolutely adorable," she managed. "Thank you Mistress," Sarah whispered softly. She crawled closer until the leash dangling between her arms came close enough for Nikki to grab. Then she stopped, letting Nikki pull her closer. She ended up lying on her back across Nikki's lap, the chain forming a cold line from her neck to her armpit. Nikki had one hand under her back while the other rested on her diaper. "That's a big diaper you have there," Nikki said. Way to go genius. Sounding real smart there. "I made the Halloween diaper a little bigger." Nikki lifted Sarah up so her head rested on Nikki's upper arm. "Not just a little," she commented and gave the diaper a squeeze, making Sarah squirm a little. "Do you like it Ma'am?" Nikki smiled at Sarah. "It's perfect," she said. For the longest time they just sat there, Nikki slowly stroking Sarah's hair and Sarah playing with one of the buttons on Nikki's top. The only sounds were the sounds of the fire from the TV and the wind outside the window. Occasionally, Sarah would begin to fidget, but when she did, Nikki would slip her hand just inside the top of Sarah's giant diaper and slowly stroke her stomach with her thumb. In short, it was a perfect moment. Too bad it won't last. "Ma'am? What's wrong?" Sarah looked up at her with a worried expression on her face. "Wha... Why do you ask sweetie?" "You just went all frowny and worried all of a sudden." Sarah reached up to stroke Nikki's cheek. Nikki turned her head and kissed her palm. "It's just... This is so wonderful. And I don't want it to end." "Don't be sad," Sarah said, sounding like she was consoling a child who just found out Santa wasn't real. Nikki sighed. "Three more days. Three more days and four more nights. Then it'll be Monday and our lives go back to the way they were a couple of hours ago." Sarah wriggled her way up to hug Nikki. She nuzzled the side of her neck, causing an involuntary shiver to run down Nikki's back. "It doesn't have to," she murmured. "What do you mean?" "I have something for you." Sarah crawled off Nikki and got to her feet. She extended a hand to Nikki to help her up. A little confused, Nikki took Sarah's hand. "Do you trust me?" Sarah asked. "I thought that was my line," Nikki answered with a sly smile. "I'm serious Nikki. Do you trust me?" Nikki looked at Sarah, her serious tone contrasting wildly with her appearance. Her mussed-up hair, giant diapers and slightly bow-legged stance made her look a little like an oversized baby. Why is she standing like that? She didn't do that before. Nikki cocked her head a little to one side. "Sweetie? Have you wet yourself?" "Yes, but that can wait," Sarah said airily. "Yes sweetie. Of course I trust you." "Close your eyes." Nikki could hear the excitement in Sarah's voice. When she did as Sarah asked, she felt Sarah take her hands and start to gently pull her along. "No peeking," Sarah said with a childish mock-seriousness. They left the living room and slowly walked down the hallway. At what was probably the end of it, Sarah slowly spun Nikki around a couple of times so when she opened a door, Nikki ha no idea which of the three rooms at the end of the hallway it led to. "Threshold," Sarah warned and Nikki took another careful step forwards. Sarah let go of Nikki's hands. "Now just give me a second." Nikki waited patiently while she heard several quiet clicks. "OK, you can look." Nikki opened her eyes. She was standing just inside the door to the bedroom which was lit by the golden glow of a dozen fake candles. Sarah knelt in front of her with her; her thighs spread wide apart by the diapers. She was looking expectantly up at Nikki, smiling like she was waiting for something. Nikki looked around. Something was different, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. The bed looks the same as always; minus the pillows and duvet of course. The Narnia wardrobe, the dressers, the big chair with th- Hang on: Dressers? Where'd the second one come from? It took Nikki a couple more moments to recognise the dresser from the guest bedroom. "You've... redecorated?" Nikki asked, not quite sure what else she could say. Sarah didn't say anything. She only held out her hands to Nikki. In her open palms was a box that looked like an oversized version of the boxes jewellers put rings in. "Sarah, I thought we agreed on no expensive gifts." "Just open it Ma'am. Please." Sarah almost whispered the final word. Nikki took the box from Sarah's hands and flipped open the hinged lid. Inside the box was a flat square of brass with "Nicolette Ellis & Sarah Nilsen" in black letters. "What's this?" Nikki asked, turning the little piece of metal over. "It's for the mailbox," Sarah said. "Downstairs." Realisation dawned on Nikki. "Are you asking me to move in?" She looked down at Sarah kneeling in front of her. She almost seemed to be holding her breath. "If you want to," Sarah whispered, barely audibly. Nikki fell to her knees in front of Sarah and embraced her. "Of course I want to sweetie." Nikki's lips met Sarah's in a kiss so intense that Nikki halfway expected music to swell. It was hungry and urgent, but at the same time soft. It almost felt like she was melting as Sarah held her. Eventually, their lips parted and they helped each other up. For a few more moments they just stood there, slow-dancing to music nobody could hear. When Sarah's hands slid down to cup Nikki's leather-clad buttocks, Nikki answered by giving Sarah's diapered butt a squeeze. "Soooo," Nikki said with a grin as she pushed Sarah onto the bed, the plastic sheet crinkling softly when she landed. "What do you say we get you cleaned up and changed so we can start the new year with a bang?" Sarah giggled and lay back, spreading her legs as Nikki crawled onto the mattress between them. 2016 is going to be the best year ever.

Hi there, Long time silent follower and reader of the stories on this site. Had been thinking of writing a story of my own for a while now and the backtoschool competition gave me the motivation I needed. I envision this as being the first part of a three or four part story so not all of the context is provided at the beginning however let me assure you that the characters mentioned are eighteen years of age and older. Further background to the school and its students will be explored in later instalments. Hope you all enjoy! Mount Usher Reform School Jesse Wilson fidgeted as discreetly as she could at her desk. She desperately needed to use the bathroom and wanted nothing more than to run out of the lesson and relieve herself. However, students were not permitted to use the bathroom during class time at Mount Usher Reform School. Gently, shaking her right leg to distract from her ever-growing discomfort in her bladder and bowels Jesse contemplated her options. There was still thirty-five minutes left until the bell and she did not think she was going to be able to hold it until then so she had figured she had three choices. First, she could try to get up and leave. The problem with this however was that the six Classroom Disciplinarians standing around the edges of the classroom were watching all of her classmates intensely, searching for any signs of misconduct, and if she tried anything she knew she would be down the back of the class over their knee before she could even open her mouth to plead her case. A spanking such as those delivered by the Disciplinarians was no small thing to endure and Jesse suspected, the way she was at the moment, it was likely it would result in her having an accident. No, she thought, there was no way she could leave without disaster ensuing. Even now, she had to be careful her less-than-full attention on the lesson did not give the Disciplinarians cause to punish her. Sparing a moment to focus on the board and what Ms. Smyth was saying she was glad at least that this emergency was occurring during Maths, which came easy to her, and she was confident would be able to answer any question without difficulty if called upon. Returning to considering her problem Jesse thought that her second choice was to just attempt to hold it regardless and hope that she would be able to make it despite how badly she felt she needed to go. It was possible she thought that if she could just keep her mind off things she may manage to get through the rest of the class. The only problem with this of course was if she was wrong and soiled herself. Not only would she be humiliated in front of all her peers and the school staff, it would bring her to the attention of the sixth Classroom Disciplinarian the so called “Potty Patrolman”. Toileting problems of any kind fell under the Potty Patrolman’s remit and once that happened it was an inevitable and demeaning return to fulltime diapers. In her one and a half years so far at Mount Usher it did not matter what reason or circumstance might have led to you having an accident – whether it was an illness, bedwetting, a prank, an oversight when wiping - the moment your school approved panties were any less than pristine at the 8am and 8pm inspections you were done for. Even now as Jesse feigned attention to the lesson she could see her friend and former roommate Hazel in the front or “Toddler” row with two other girls. A simple mishap with some orange juice and now she was strapped into a highchair styled chair, though at normal height, sucking a pacifier and wearing a onesie and thick diaper – the uniform for those at toddler level. No, Jesse shook gently shook her head, she could not risk an accident of any kind, let alone a messy one, if she were to retain what little independence, she had at the Reform School. This she knew left her with a final but almost similarly inconceivable choice. Although, it was made clear to the girls that they were not allowed to leave to go to the bathroom during class and all requests to do so would be denied and ignored, if it was an emergency, they could ask to use the class potty. This was a bright yellow, child’s potty with a smiling clown face, sized for adults located in its own demarcated “Potty Zone”. The rules stated that it could be used during class up to three times in one week before you would be placed under the care of the Potty Patrolman. The only problem was that the Potty Zone was in full view of the staff and students since it consisted only of a small plinth to the side of the classroom, upon which the potty sat, and a named sign which hung on the wall behind it. The logic of the Potty Zone being that the student was not really missing class if they used it no matter how long they took since they could keep following the lesson even as they went. Thinking it through Jesse knew what she had to do. Although it would certainly be mortifying for her, she was going to have to ask to use the classroom potty. It was rare enough that any of the girls took this option because of its nature, even just for peeing, so the fact Jesse was going to use it for both number one and two would be the talk of the school for a couple of days. However, she told herself that although no one was likely to completely forget the memory, at least she would not be moved down a level, and her experience would be overlooked once someone else had been embarrassed by the Reform School. Waiting until Ms. Smyth came to a natural rest in her explanation, Jesse raised her hand. Despite the anxiety and dread she was feeling over what she had decided to inflict on herself she was glad she was mature enough to make the decision. Already it was clear that a few of her silent but deadly toots had attracted the attention of the Patrolman’s two aids who were sniffing about and looking in the direction of the Toddler and Pre-schooler rows. After a few moments Ms. Smyth noticed Jesse’s hand and called on her. “Yes Ms. Wilson, do you have a question about the lesson?” “No Miss” Jesse replied with only a slight tremble in her voice. “I wanted to ask if I may use the potty? It is an emergency”. Hearing this, Jesse felt as though the classroom came to a complete halt and now everyone’s eyes and attention was focused solely on her. Her anxiety instantly went up a notch and she could feel her cheeks going red. “Really now” Ms. Smyth said grinning like a Cheshire cat and throwing knowing glances to the Classroom Disciplinarians and Patrolman’s Aids. “Well, I suppose …” she started and then paused as though considering things while Jesse waited in desperation “I suppose you may since it is not like you to try and waste class time, and since you stated it is urgent, if, you have been paying attention. Before you go tell me what is the answer to the following problem on the board?” she said pointing to a particular question. Jesses looked at the problem. It read: Solve for X: 3x+7=22 Thankfully it seemed easy enough to her. Jesse replied “Em… the answer is X is equal to five Miss”. Hearing her answer Ms. Smyth frowned for a moment making Jesse even more anxious and distressed. She was desperately trying not to fart or let anything out to prevent herself from embarrassing herself further than what was necessary. Eventually however Miss Smyth said “That is correct. How did you get the answer?” Rapidly, Jesse replied “To isolate X I subtracted seven from both sides. That left me with 3X is equal to fifteen, then I divided both sides by three to get X is equal to five.” Seeming satisfied then Ms. Smyth said “Yes, well done that is correct answer and solution. For those of you who are struggling… I am looking at you in particular Ms. Robinson” eyeing one particular girl in the second row “take note, as similar questions will be on the test on Friday”. “Now Jesse” she said motioning one of the Potty Aids “you can go and Mrs. King will help you. Everybody else begin working on problems three to fifteen in your textbooks. I do not need to remind you that the Disciplinarians will be watching to make sure no one is daydreaming or slacking off.” Having heard Miss Smyth’s words every one of their classmates turned to their books and copies with an exaggerated fervour all determined not to be punished, however Jesse knew each of them would be attentively following her shameful performance in a few moments out of the corner of their eyes. After all she would have done the same. Who and how someone was punished or humiliated was top gossip among the students at Mount Usher. Jesse waited until the old but fierce Mrs. King proffered her hand before standing, gently taking her hand in turn and allowing herself to be led to the Potty Zone. Instead, of taking the shortest path through the rows, Mrs. King brought her to the opposite side of the rectangular classroom, up the aisle to the top of the class and then finally back down the other side to her destination. Thankfully Jesse still had the presence of mind to watch out for other student’s feet up at the Toddler row who attempted to trip her in a bid to make her have an accident – misery loves company. Mrs. King stood Jesse on the plinth in front of the potty and then began to undo her skirt which she removed after checking it and placing it to one side. She then pulled down Jesse’s underwear and had her step out of them so that she was naked from the waste down but for her shoes and ankle socks. Once she had fully inspected Jesse’s panties for any sign of accident, she placed them on top of the skirt and then taking Jesse’s hand once more directed her bottom down onto the potty – and not a moment too soon. Jesse had practically been doing the potty dance while Mrs. King was going through the proceedings. Looking up at Mrs. King, the older woman finally said “alright Jesse try going to the potty like a big girl”. This was all the encouragement Jesse needed and having been given permission she proceeded to noisily empty her bowels and then bladder into the plastic container. A great squelching noise could be heard by all as her poo hit the bottom of the potty and then a loud hissing noise. Such was her relief that in spite of herself Jesses could not help but release a sigh as this happened. It was only as she was letting out a final few small but very audible farts that seemed to resound within the hollow potty that Jesse began to feel embarrassment over what she had just done. At first, as she came back to herself, she became aware that she was half naked, sitting over her own filth, the smell of which was awful, and there was no toilet paper in sight for her to clean herself up. Then she realised that not only had Mrs. King been watching her the whole time but she could also see some grins from the Class Disciplinarians. Suddenly, she felt tremendously vulnerable and ashamed, and if she could have hidden somewhere, anywhere she would have done so. It was only that Mrs. King was still gently holding her hand that she was prevented from running out the door and sobbing. Looking Jesse straight into her eyes which were beginning to look a bit lost as she receded into herself Mrs. King said “Well done, Jesse” as though she were congratulating a two-year-old who had just begun toilet training. “I bet that feels so much better having gotten that all out. Such a big girl making it to the potty on time!” Looking over to the Toddler and Pre-school rows before looking over to the teacher she said “There are a few potty pants who could take note here as well, isn’t that right Ms. Smyth. Ms. Wilson isn’t just good at maths, she’s also very good at using the potty, isn’t she?” “She certainly is Mrs. King. That was very well done. Exactly what a big girl should do when she needs to use the toilet” replied Ms. Smyth once again with a large grin on her face. Turning to Hazel in the front row, she said “I bet you wish you could be a big girl like your friend Ms. Wilson here, don’t you Ms. Fisher? Instead of being a silly little toddler who does all her pee-pee and poo-poo in her pampers.” Turning red at being singled out, Hazel squeaked behind her pacifier “Yeth, Mwis Swmyth”. “Well, maybe you’ll get there one day, but by the looks of your diaper not for a good long time yet. You have absolutely soaked it! You are quite the little super soaker aren’t you Ms. Fisher." Looking very ashamed and on the verge of tears Hazel said again “Yeths, Mwis Swmyth”. Although, it looked as though Ms. Smyth would keep berating poor Hazel or one of the other toddler girls, at her last comment, Jesse heard someone snigger from somewhere in one of the back rows which they quickly tried to turn into a cough. Unfortunately, for them once of the Classroom Disciplinarians caught them and dragged them up out of their desk by the wrist with an undignified yelp from the girl. Even as she still sat on the potty, Jesse could see that it was Margaret Carter who had been caught and knew from her demeanour that it was probably a nervous laugh she had let out rather than a malicious one. However, now Margaret had caught Ms. Smyth’s ire. “Is there you find funny Ms. Carter about a girl Ms. Fisher’s age still going to the bathroom in her pants?” Ms. Smyth asked giving Margaret a death stare. Jesse like all of the girls in the class knew that this was one of those questions with no right answer. If Margaret said yes then she would likely be given a lesson in empathy which could end in any manner of punishment. However, if she said no then she would be asked to explain why she was laughing and if she could not give a satisfactory answer be called a liar as well. Knowing she was trapped Margaret replied “Sorry Miss, I didn’t mean to laugh but I couldn’t help it. Super soaker is what my mother calls my two-year-old brother as well.” “So, you admit then” said Ms. Smyth “that you were laughing at Ms. Fisher”. “Yes, Ms Smyth” said Margaret hanging her head in shame. “And why did you try to conceal the truth by coughing?” asked Ms. Smyth “I, I didn’t mean to laugh at Ms. Fisher, I wasn’t trying to be mean Miss. It was just the word super soaker made me laugh so I tried to turn the laugh into a cough to hide it and also to try not to disrupt the class” Margaret replied hesitantly. “I see” said Ms. Smith. “Well even if that is the truth and you did not mean to offend Miss Fisher and disrupt my class, you have certainly done that, haven’t you…Haven’t You???” “Yes, Ms Smith. I am sorry Hazel I did not mean to laugh” she said turning to a still mortified Hazel, before turning back to Ms. Smith. “I am sorry Ms Smith for interrupting your class and wasting precious learning time”. “Good. I accept your apology” said Ms. Smyth “and I am sure Hazel does as well. I am glad you recognised your fault and you did not need me to tell you to apologise. That shows maturity. However, because I will not tolerate bullying of any sort in my classroom, even by accident, Mr. Moore is going to give you a sound spanking during recess this morning to ensure you do not do so again, even accidentally, and even when it is funny that a big girl like Ms Fisher is a super soaker. Do you understand and accept your punishment?” Margaret having gone pale knowing that she would not be able to sit down for a week after being paddled by Mr. Moore, otherwise known as Classroom Disciplinarian Number 4, said “Yes Miss. I understand and accept. I’m very sorry”. “Good, and I’m sure you will be very sorry indeed missy during recess! You are lucky though that you accepted your punishment so maturely. Next time I catch you laughing at anyone in my class you are going to have your bathroom privileges revoked and then we will see how funny you think it is being a super soaker yourself.” The whole class having just witnessed this discourse never looked busier to Jesse just then, who was still sitting, half- naked on the potty. “Now where were we” said Ms. Smyth turning back to Jesse and Mrs. King. Checking her watch Ms. Smyth said “there are only just under twenty minutes left in the lesson Mrs. King after dealing with all that silliness. If you could finish helping our potty superstar with her business and bring her back to her seat so that she can continue with the lesson I would appreciate it.” With that Ms. Smyth seemingly lost all interest in Jesse and began walking down the classroom rows, checking to see how much work the students had done so far. Jesse knew from experience that Ms. Smyth would find enough mistakes that there would be at least two or three spankings given out by the end of the lesson. Still out of sorts and feeling very exposed when Mrs King asked her, more quietly this time, if she was finished Jesse could only nod her head in assent. After that, she gently manoeuvred Jesse up off the potty and turned her to the side before forcing her to bend over. Mrs. King then produced a packet of Huggies Baby Wipes as though by magic and began wiping Jesse’s dirty bottom and genitalia before Jesse could even think to protest and ask to do it herself. After each wipe had been used Mrs. King made a point of showing it to Jesse and whispering things like “so dirty” or “disgusting” before throwing them into the potty. Once she had been cleaned to Mrs. Kings satisfaction, her school approved panties were then brought back and Jesse was asked to step into them. Mrs. King then drew them up Jesse’s legs pulling them up right to the top more tightly than necessary so that for a moment it almost seemed as though she were giving her a wedgie. She then had Jesse step into her skirt and tightened it for her, before patting her on the bum a couple of times and leading her all around the room and back to her chair. It was only as Jesse sat down, momentarily relieved despite being thoroughly humiliated she had managed to avoid total long-term disaster, that she realised something was wrong. Her panties felt a little bit damp and sticky under her bum where she was sitting. Jesse hoped it was only residual dampness from the baby wipes but she feared Mrs. King had deliberately failed to wipe her completely so that when she pulled the panties back up so tightly, they would be stained. Considering this new dilemma, Jesse looked on as the potty was being taken to be emptied by the other Potty Aid in the class. With the windows open and special air conditioner working overtime it would not be long until the potty smell would be gone from the classroom, unless of course one of the Toddler or Pre-school level students had a messy accident. If her soiled panties did not give off a potty smell, Jesse felt that it was possible this issue would go unnoticed until lunch when she could quickly swap her panties in her dorm room and wash her current pair by hand. However, she feared that for some reason Mrs. King was out to get her after what she had just done and she would make up some excuse for a panty inspection before then. Suddenly, it was looking all too likely to Jesse that all the indignities she had just put herself through may have been for nothing and there would be more to come soon. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Fidgeting anxiously in the café Amelia couldn’t stop herself from checking the clock every few moments, Irritated that only 15 minutes have passed when it felt like 15 years. To focused on the time she barely notices when the waitress walks up “just yourself today Hun” pulling out a pen and paper for her order. “I’m waiting on someone actually” looking down to avoid eye contact she sheepishly says “could I have small coffee please” she’s never been good with strangers “ of course coming right up” the waitress replies smiling before turning away. Amelia’s eyes once again dart back to the clock with 10 minutes to go, almost squirming uncontrollably “I can’t believe I’m doing this” she murmurs under her breath waiting for the elusive C an older woman she has been chatting on fetlife for the last several weeks. They seem to click on every level spending hours upon hours discussing everything from books to their home life. They decided to wait on a meeting up or giving names, both having been burned heavily in past relationships due to their interests but neither wished to discuss it just yet. Arriving with her coffee the waitress leaves it on the table and heads back up front, suddenly the café door opens up and Amelia hears her say “oh she’s in the back waiting” Amelia straightened up her anxiety going through the rood as she hears the footsteps growing closer until finally. “Hello are you A?” Her voice sounds incredibly familiar to Amelia as she stands and turns, but freezes at the sight of C instantly recognizing her. “Oh no oh no” is all she can say her mind racing “this can’t be happening” standing before her is Claire Parker her old middle school teacher. Not just any teacher, her favorite teacher. The one who was there to comfort Amelia when her best friend pretended she didn’t exist in the cafeteria, the one who helped wipe away the tears when bullies wouldn’t leave her alone calling her “anchor Amy” because of her size. Miss Parker was also the one who encouraged her to follow her passion for music and to be honest the one when had an enormous crush on. She was a huge influence on young Amelia, but suddenly one day she just quit, no word or warning she just vanished. Leaving Amelia devastated. But now over 6 years later they’re once again face to face, she should be overjoyed at the reunion but all Amelia can think about is the fact that she has told Miss Parker everything. Literally every dirty fantasy and kink has been unknowingly discussed with her former teacher; shaking uncontrollably the only thing that stops her from fleeing is 9Miss Parkers reaction. “AMEILIA!!!” she exclaims pulling the startled girl into a warm embrace “now this is a happy coincidence isn’t it” her voice giddy with excitement “it’s been what? 6 years? Look how you’ve grown” looking her up and down Miss Parker gets a good look at her former pupil her smile growing “you filled out in all the right places” Amelia’s face flashes crimson at the compliment, looking down at her thick frame she doesn’t quite get what Ms Parker is seeing “t..th..thank you Miss Parker” is all she can spit out “Oh I think we’re far past calling me Miss don’t you?” her kind demeanor making Amelia fill more at ease “ why don’t you try calling me Claire?” she says as she settles down into the booth. Settling down herself she takes a deep breath to steady her nerves “this isn’t weird for you? I mean you use to be my teacher” says Amelia quietly, her eyes darting back and forth ensuring the coast is clear “I haven’t been your teacher in a long time sweetie, were both adults who know what they are getting into” Claire keeps a close eye on her not looking away for a moment “and besides I think we’d both rather I be your Mommy anyway” she says it so casually it causes Amelia to blush even harder. “but why don’t we forget all that for now” reaching across the table Claire puts a hand on her arm “I’d love for us just to catch up and chat, just treat this like a regular old date, no pressure or expectations. How does that sound?” Thinking of this as a normal date did help alleviate some of Amelia’s anxiety about the situation, I mean at the least this isn’t some stranger just trying to seduce her or anything, it was Miss Parker one of the kindest people she has ever known “I guess that could work” a smile beginning to spread across her face as she begins to relax. And so began their first official ‘date’ it was awkward at first with Amelia stumbling to find her words but soon they were both chatting up a storm talking for hours in the quiet little booth about everything they could think off . It all flowed just so naturally as if they were friends for years. It was the best date either of them had in quite a while. One thing became very evident to Amelia throughout the evening and that is that she was still totally infatuated with her former teacher hanging onto her every word neither of them realizing just how long they’ve been talking until Amelia asks the question that has plagued her for years “Why did you leave the way you did” Claire grimaces, the old memory still causing a sting even now “well you see sweetie back then I was in a relationship that had slowly become toxic. We were bad for each other but neither of us could admit it. In the end I broke things off with her” she pauses staring down at her coffee “she….didn’t take it well” Amelia’s can see her eyes start to glisten and says “you don’t have to tell me if it’s too painful I understand” the last thing she wants is to drudge up old hurts. “No…no it’s ok you of all people deserve an answer” breathing in deep she exhales “my former little ousted me to everyone, she told the school board and all the parents the nature of our relationship and they freaked” Amelia’s eyes grow wide with disbelief. How could anyone do such a cruel vindictive thing to Claire, she was always the kindest and most compassionate out of all the teachers at school. “They gave me the choice to resign with some dignity or be fired” looking down to avoid eye contact she says “I’m so very sorry for never saying goodbye but they wouldn’t let me” a moment of pure silence follows as Claire continues to stare at her coffee. Amelia had never seen the usually confident Miss Parker seem so vulnerable. Shaking her head she looks up at Amelia “but that’s all in the past now” reaching over the table she takes Amelia’s Hand “I’d much rather look to the future” she squeezes a little “and I hope you can be a part of it as my little” Amelia’s entire body once against turns scarlet almost forgetting why they were there in the first place. The thought of loosing Miss Parker again is too much to bear; she squeezes Claire’s hand just as hard before replying “I think I’d like that very much” “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that” says Claire still holding Amelia’s Hand tightly “there’s no rush we can take this as fast or slow as you want ok baby girl” gazing deep into Amelia’s eyes she leans forward over the table their lips just barely touching before she pulls away “I’ll keep you safe, I’ll take care of you, I promise” Amelia’s brain short circuits as their lips meet, she must have day dreamed about doing that a million times back in school but the reality of it is much more satisfying then in fantasy. Her attempts to speak fail miserably, unable to find the right words. Burying her face in her hands incredibly flustered she can only murmur “oh my God that just happened “much to the amusement of her older companion. Mustering the strength of will to lift her head she finally asks “do you mean it…..that you’ll keep me safe? ….. That you’ll take care of me?” Her face instantly serious without a shred of doubt in her voice Claire replies “Always Amelia no matter what we do I’ll be there with you every step of the way” softening her features “you’re going to be my little girl after all” Seeing Claries conviction she relaxes, a state of calm she rarely enjoys. The ideas of being someone’s baby girl making her feel so at ease it’s shocking. Feeling 10 years younger she slips into a headspace she’s not quite familiar expressing in front of others. Having spent her teen years being the good girl, the honour roll student, the constant pressure by her parents to succeed. Heck she has never even had a detention. With a coy smile she leans over and giggles “but what if your baby girl likes being a brat” she teases twirling her honey blonde hair around her finger enjoying being able to show this side of herself to someone “I mean I can be a lot to handle” “Oh is that so” purrs Claire her voice sweeter then honey “well there isn’t a brat born who myself and Miss Hairbrush can’t handle” reaching into her purse she pulls out a solid oak paddle brush placing it in front of Amelia. Biting her lip Amelia’s eyes lock onto the brush, so many deep seated fantasies of being helpless over someone’s knee while they roast her bottom flashing through her mind, squeezing her legs together in need hoping Claire doesn’t notice. Feeling like a bratty teen now more than ever she defiantly proclaims “is that all?” dismissing the brush entirely “you’ve met your match Miss Parker” sticking her tongue out at her former mentor impudently. Leaning to the side Claire raises her hand almost shouting “Check Please!” Sitting in Claries SUV outside her home Amelia’s heart is beating like a drum, she is made to sit in the back on the drive because “little girls are safer back there”. Sticking true to her role Amelia whined “but I wanna sit up front” But was quickly silenced by Claire’s steely glare. Stepping out onto the asphalt the young woman can’t help but stare in awe at the big house, so entranced she doesn’t notice Claire coming up beside her “sweetie there’s something important we need to discuss” Turning around to look up the tall brunette is staring down at her. She can’t help but blush “If anything gets to be too overwhelming or to difficult you just have to say cantaloupe and well stop ok” reaching up she brushes some of amelias hair behind her ears before leaning to whisper “otherwise the second you walk in that door you’ll be nothing but a naughty brat in need of some firm discipline, is that clear” her demeanour changing rapidly, now strict and demanding causing a shiver to run down Amelia’s spine, nodding her head unable to articulate a response Claire gently grasps her hand leading her up the stairs. inside the house is immaculate and well furnished but the awestruck girl has no time to process when she hears “Amelia Jacobs you are in so much trouble” spinning around to see Miss Parker with her hands firmly on her hips stern look across her face. “I can’t believe a girl your age would act like such an incorrigible brat in public” with hands faster then they eye can see she grabs Amelia by the ear much to her dismay“and I know just how to deal with bratty little girls”. Stinging like hell with little choice but to lean forward awkwardly as the older woman leads her into the living room squealing along the way “hey let me go you can’t do this I’m not some little kid” trying her best to sound angry instead of deeply excited being lead to her fate. Ignoring her pleas Claire drags her to the living room before pushing her front and center, where with the same steely gaze as before she orders “Strip!” Amelia’s heart is pounding in her ears, it’s been many years since her last high school gym class, and even then she changed in the stalls insecure about her body. Panicking a little she debates using her safe word until she sees Claries face staring at hermit was a look of pure desire, of hunger and want. No one had ever looked at her that way before, like she was something desirable. Shaking her head meekly she squeaks “n-no I w-wont” stuttering while staring at her feet to hide her excitement. Feeling a hand under her chin her head rises to meet Claire’s gaze “you can do it or I can do it little one your choice” Oh god the thought of Claire stripping her down is almost too much to bear. Gulping down her apprehension and with shaky hands she slips her thumbs into her yoga pants slowly dragging them to the floor hoping that’s the end of it “Shirt to” says Claire leaving no room for argument Hands still shaking lifting her sweater over her head before dropping to cover her voluptuous body, she can feel Claire’s eyes scanning every inch of her until they rest on her wiggly bottom framed perfectly by a lacy pink thong “tsk tsk tsk” is all that comes out “Those panties are unacceptable for a girl your age Amy” taking the waistband of her panties giving it a snap against her waist “we will definitely be making some changes to your underwear drawer” without further warning she gives Amelia a spank on her unprotected bottom “in the corner now little girl” Amelia quickly buries her head into the corner having never felt so exposed while Claire can only stare at her bottom “in 20 minutes I’ll be back and I won’t be empty handed” her hand making its way to her bottom giving it gentle rub before leaving. So here was Amelia, half naked, exposed and having never felt so helpless in her entire life, yet she couldn’t have been more excited.

I’m new to writing so let me know what you think ☺️ Chapter 1 Jayne finds herself on an airplane, soaring high in the vast expanse of the sky. The sense of freedom and solitude envelops her as she is the only passenger on this plane. Soft, fluffy blankets surround her, swaddling her like dollops of whipped cream. The comforting embrace of the blankets brings her a profound sense of security and contentment. The blankets seem to stretch infinitely, taking up the entire plane, and Jayne feels as if she's floating on a cloud. As the plane ascends higher and higher, a delightful rush of butterflies flutters in her stomach, filling her with pure joy and exhilaration. The sensation of elevating in the sky, unburdened and weightless, is an experience she relishes. The enchanting melody of "Let it flow" by Spiritualized plays in the background, its gentle notes adding to the dreamlike atmosphere. With each passing moment, Jayne's heart dances to the rhythm of the song, amplifying the euphoria she feels. "Here it comes and then it goes And that feeling takes me home And I don't know where I'm goin' Let it flow" As the plane starts its descent, Jayne can't help but giggle with delight. The excitement of the downward shift fills her with a thrilling sensation. She feels as if she's on an adventure, descending into a world of pure bliss and ecstasy. The dream takes her to a place of complete release and surrender, where she lets go of all inhibitions and embraces the flow. Suddenly, Jayne is jolted awake by the song continuing from her alarm clock. "Let it flow..." Her heart still races with the remnants of the dream's euphoria. She realizes that her bladder is full, and she rushes to the bathroom. The relief she experiences as she uses the bathroom is similar to what she felt in her dream. Jayne, is a 30-year-old girl, free spirited, creative designer at a large gaming company. Slim and tone in posture, she has undergone a transformation in recent years, becoming more conscious of her health and well-being. This all thanks to her partner Ryan, who does marathon runs alongside his day job. Their one year relationship has been a catalyst for positive change, as she found herself motivated to adopt healthier habits. Long runs have become a regular part of Jayne's routine. She finds running to be relaxing. On the weekends she likes to unwind and make her runs a little more entertaining. This entertainment is fueled by vaping some of her favorite sativa weed. She enjoys the rush of endorphins and the melodic vibrations that flutter with each stride during her elevated run. In this headspace she is able to achieve not just a runner's high, but instead, the best of both worlds. The joy of running has become her therapy, allowing her to clear her mind and find solace in the rhythm of her feet hitting the ground. In addition to running, Jayne has embraced yoga as a way to balance her physical and mental well-being. She's discovered the transformative power of yoga, not only for its physical benefits but also for the sense of inner peace and mindfulness it brings to her life. Her wardrobe has also evolved to reflect her active lifestyle. Yoga pants have become a staple, not just for their comfort, but as a symbol of her commitment to a healthier and more balanced lifestyle. With Ryan away on an offsite project for the past six months, Jayne has found herself facing the challenges that typically come from a long-distance relationship. In the past, she had struggled with long distance relationships, but this time, she was determined to approach it differently. She knew that maintaining her fitness routine was more crucial than ever, as it not only kept her physically healthy but also helped her cope with the emotional distance between her and Ryan. Jayne has had to learn to trust and be patient, giving Ryan the space and understanding that he's immersed in his offsite project. The sporadic communication has made her anxious at times, but she's reminded herself that Ryan's dedication to his work was one of the things she admired about him. This past month, Jayne has struggled with feelings of uncertainty as Ryan has been really out of touch in communication. She has been trying to get herself to understand that the sporadic check-ins are likely due to his busy schedule, and she that she needs to trust in their relationship. Jayne's morning began like any other as she prepared for her remote workday from the comfort of her downtown apartment on the 33rd floor. Stretching and yawning, she embraced the tranquility of her living space with a sense of calm and purpose. Her cozy apartment was adorned with soft furnishings and elegant touches, creating a serene ambiance that inspired her creativity. After freshening up in the bathroom, Jayne made her way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Today, she was in the mood for a delicious omelette. But as she reached for the vegetables in her fridge, she realized she was out. Undeterred, Jayne decided to take a quick trip downstairs and a couple of blocks over to the morning farmers market. The prospect of getting fresh, organic vegetables excited her, and it was the perfect excuse to take a short break and savor the beauty of the city before diving into her work. Stepping outside her apartment building, Jayne felt the city's vibrant energy enveloping her. The sound of distant traffic and the chatter of people bustling about created a symphony of urban life. With a spring in her step, she strolled down the bustling streets towards the farmers market. As she reached the market, she was greeted by an array of colorful stalls, each offering a delightful selection of fruits and vegetables. The sights and scents of fresh produce invigorated her senses, and she relished the opportunity to engage with local vendors and support the community. Jayne carefully selected the ripest tomatoes, crisp bell peppers, and vibrant greens for her omelette. With her bag filled with the freshest ingredients, she made her way back to her apartment, feeling a sense of fulfillment and contentment. On her walk back to the apartment she decided to stop into her go-to pharmacy, Trust Pharnacy, which is convientally situated at ground floor of her apartment complex. She loves this pharmacy as it's always well stocked with her preferred zero-waste feminine products. This time around she notices that it's not only those products that are well stocked at this pharmacy. As she walked around, she found out that they moved her aisle to the back of the store and she had to traverse two different incontinence aisles. One of which looked like it was dedicated to single packaged adult diapers and the other for larger packages. As Jayne explored the back of the store, she noticed that her aisle had been moved to a more discreet location, hidden away from the main shopping area. She had to navigate through two different incontinence aisles to find her desired products. One aisle displayed single packaged adult diapers, while the other held larger packages. As Jayne approached her aisle, she couldn't help but notice a striking girl, who appeared to be around her age, refilling the diapers on the shelf. She notices the girl's posture and body form. Jayne is envious of how round and plump her ass is. Even after Jayne's rigorous squat routine for her workouts she has nothing on this employee's ass. This girl had a radiant smile, adorned with braces that Jayne found oddly attractive. Her name tag read "Aria" "Excuse me, could you help me get this pad brand?" Jayne asked. "Sure thing! Let me grab the..." Aria's reply was cut short by the store intercom broadcasting her number for clocking out. "I thought this time would never come. I can finally clock out" sighed Aria. She mentioned that she had worked overtime and was finally being relieved. "I'll be right back I have to get the right keys for this shelf" Aria said as she sped out of the aisle. Jayne found Aria's behavior peculiar as she hurriedly passed her, seemingly fidgety and eager to leave. It seemed that there was more to Aria's excitement than just the end of her shift, and Jayne couldn't help but be intrigued. Less than a minute later, Jayne hears footsteps advancing closer to her and sees Aria speed back into the aisle. Aria steps up on a short step stool and reaches for the flap to unlock the shelf and flips it up. "Is it this one?" Aria asked. "It's actually the one next to it that is almost out" replied Jayne. Aria seems to be bouncy in her posture. Since there was only one package of the pads left, Aria had to go on her tipy toes to reach for it. Jayne notices that she is bouncing her heals on the stool like she is jump roping without lifting her feetoff the ground. Suddenly an "ahhhhh" sigh softly exits Aria's lips. There is a sudden pause as Aria freezes with her arms deep in the shelf. After about 5 seconds of being frozen, Aria carefully steps down the stool and hands Jayne the pads. Aria looks at Jayne with a spacey gaze says "Here you go, have a good rest of your day!" Jayne sees Aria take off her apron and walk down the hallway very calmly towards the back room. Jayne couldn't help but observe Aria's movements as she walked towards the backroom to clock out. There was a subtle waddle in her step that Jayne found strangely cute. She tried not to stare, but her eyes were drawn to the oddly placed wet patch on Aria's butt. She notices Aria discreetly reach her hand out to grab something when passing through the aisle. The checker at the front scanned her pads and looked up at Jayne "I take it you must have met Aria, hehehe she is quite the free spirit!" Jayne nervously chuckled as she grabbed the bag and headed home to go make breakfast. As she cracked the eggs into a bowl and whisked them with care, she couldn't help but admire the panoramic view of the city through her large windows. The morning sun painted the skyline with warm hues, casting a golden glow on the bustling streets below. Jayne sautéed the vegetables with a hint of olive oil, savoring the aroma that filled her home. She expertly folded the omelette, creating a masterpiece of flavors and colors. As Jayne sat at the breakfast table, her mind couldn't help but replay the peculular encounter with Aria, the employee at the store. The puzzle pieces of Aria's behavior seemed to fit together in her mind, and a thrilling realization washed over her. The fidgety behavior, the sudden shift in composure, the weird wet patch on her butt, what she reached for in the aisle... it all pointed to one possibility...Aria wears diapers! But she not only wears them, she uses them. Aria was flooding her diaper while helping Jayne and it had leaked! Jayne changed topics in her head as she noticed it was 8:45 and she had to hurry to finish her morning tasks before the work day. Jayne logged in for the work but throughout her day her mind was racing. She found herself imagining Aria wearing a diaper, feeling the same sensations that had brought her pleasure in her dream. The day went by...Jayne had a typical work day, half virtual calls and half the other time to actually get her work done. Jayne logs off of work a little bit after 5pm. Her phone rings, and she notices that the number shares the same area code as Ryan's work phone. Curiosity mixed with a sense of unease, as she answers the call. It's not Ryan but instead a woman's voice on the phone.

This story is written for the 3rd kasarberang non-contest. That Escalated Quickly By Bo Tox Chapter 1 Well, I suppose I have no one to blame but myself but the damned genie didn’t have to be so vindictive about it. Let my mistakes be a warning: Don’t make the three wishes. It never ends well. I was minding my own business while metal detecting at the beach. That day I found a fake high-end watch, a wedding ring and lots of trash. I was loading my gear into my backpack. The metal detector was still on and I sat it down near the dunes. It went off with the sound of something strong. The spot it indicated was above the high tide line so whatever was in the sand wasn’t new unless someone purposefully buried it. The sand was easy to dig in and I found a handle. Once pulled, the handle was attached to a pot. When I had it fully out of the ground, it resembled an old teapot. The teapot was a dull metal, maybe brass. It certainly didn’t look like it had a lot of value but if it were old enough, it might bring something. I tossed it in with the rest of my booty and finished preparing to leave. My diaper was pretty wet so it was definitely time to go. About the diaper, it is for convenience. If I’m making good progress while prospecting, I don’t want to stop to find a toilet. The facilities at the beach are often poorly maintained and borderline disgusting. With everything loaded in the car, it was good to get back into an air-conditioned car. Twenty minutes later, the car was in the garage and the day’s treasure was in the laundry room sink, getting rinsed off. While that stuff soaked, it was time to get something to eat, rehydrate and change my diaper. Full disclosure, diapers aren’t just for convenience. I might actually like to wear them. There’s nothing wrong with that. Lots of people do it. The microwave was spinning a pizza and half a bottle of water sat on the table while I went to get into a dry diaper. The microwave beeped on the way back to the kitchen. A fresh diaper is always a nice feeling. After eating and drinking enough to feel full, I went to the sink to start inspecting my finds a little more thoroughly. The teapot was rinsed off and put aside to dry. The other items needed another rinse. I towel-dried the teapot. It looked better cleaned up. A little shine might make it nice. A little metal polish and some elbow grease would do wonders. I squirted the polish into the cloth and started rubbing the teapot. I wasn’t paying much attention. When I looked at the lamp, it was brilliant with smoke coming out of the spout. The lights flickered a few times and the smoke grew thicker. I had no idea what was going on so I sat the teapot on the counter and backed away. A booming voice announced, “WHO HAS FREED ME?” I was shaking and might have even peed my diaper a little bit but answered, “I did, James.” “I am the genie of the lamp,” said the voice as the smoke coalesced into a head and flowed down to arms and a torso. The lower part remained a smoky haze. “Lamp? I thought this was a teapot,” I said. The arms of the genie spread and she smiled, “I was imprisoned in the lamp for 100 years. You have freed me and I will grant you three wishes and only three wishes. Choose wisely, James.” I scratched my ear and looked at the genie, “Three wishes. I’ll have to think about that a minute.” The genie looked at me with a wry smile, “Don’t take too long.”

I know it's still a couple of months until halloween, but we can have fun a little early. Can't we? If this is your first Nikki & Sarah story, you might want to read the previous ones first. Here's a list: Nikki & Sarah - Index thread ------------------------------------------------ Hidden truths in plain sight Part 1 of 4 "You want to dress up as what?!?" Sarah looked incredulously at Nikki who just continued eating the slice of raspberry pie in front of her. They were sitting in a corner booth at a diner, having lunch after doing some Saturday shopping "Oh come on, it'll be fun," Nikki said around a mouthful of pie. "Plus, couples' costumes are really cute." "But Tinkerbell and Wendy? Tinkerbell and Peter Pan makes sense. Or Peter Pan and Wendy. Tinkerbell and Wendy just barely get along." "That's the whole point." Nikki tapped her temple with a finger. "I have a plan." "Oooo-kaaay," Sarah said warily. "What? Don't you trust me?" Sarah put on an exaggerated hurt expression and pouted, causing Sarah to chuckle. "Of course I do." Sarah reached across the table to stroke Nikki's cheek. "But some of your plans are kinda embarrassing." "Maybe, but you like it." Nikki turned her head and kissed Sarah's palm. "Don't you?" A blush crept up Sarah's face. "Well?" "Yes Ma'am," Sarah whispered, barely audible. "Good girl," Nikki said and lifted the final piece of pie to her mouth. A minute later, after having finished the last of her coffee, Nikki took Sarah's hands in hers. She leaned closer across the table and whispered: "Do you need to be changed yet?" Sarah's blush was renewed. Wearing a diaper while going shopping on Saturdays had become a more and more regular occurrence the last couple of months. The only times Nikki didn't insist on her wearing them was when they were getting something that Sarah needed to try on without the diapers. However, she never wet the diapers until they were back home or, on a few occasions, in the car on the way back. That didn't stop Nikki from asking if she was dry while they were out. In some cases she even insisted on checking. "You know I'm dry. I'm always dry," Sarah whispered back. "Don't take that tone with me, little girl," Nikki said sternly. "I have four feet of paracord and a carabiner in my bag. I will hook a leash to that collar of yours if you don't behave." Sarah knew it was an empty threat, but just hearing it made her conscious of the collar around her neck. It was still one of their ground rules that if Sarah wore her diapers, she would also wear her collar. During the summer months, hiding the collar had become an exercise in futility, so they had switched to a narrow cloth choker with a little cameo brooch on. Sarah liked it so much that she had taken to wearing it when she didn't have to wear a collar. She had even worn it to work a few times. But now that the weather was chilly enough to justify sweaters and that meant that hiding beneath Sarah's turtleneck was the plain leather collar they had bought last winter. "I'm sorry Ma'am," she said contritely. "I'll behave." "Good, because we're not leaving here until you actually do need a change." "You want me to..." Sarah paused for a moment, "...wet myself right here? In public? Why?" "Because you're a good little girl and I'm your..." Nikki let go of Sarah's hands. "You're my mommynatrix," Sarah finished with a sigh. Nikki smiled at the silly title. "Damn straight. And good little girls do what they're told." "Yeah, but here? The car is one thing. We're alone there. But there's people here. They'll notice. And what if there's a leak? And..." Sarah rambled. Nikki put a finger to Sarah's lips. "Shhh." She took Sarah's hands in hers again. "Look at me sweetie. Nobody's going to notice." Sarah closed her eyes and Nikki could almost see her brow furrow with concentration. After a while she sighed. "I can't do it," she said and slumped back in her seat. "Don't be upset sweetie," Nikki said. Then she slid around the table to sit next to Sarah. "Just sit back and relax." Sarah leaned against Nikki and rested her head on her shoulder. She took Sarah's hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Do you have to go?" Nikki asked. "Yeah, but I just can't do it here." "That's OK sweetie." Nikki just stroked the back of Sarah's hand with her thumb. "Just relax; don't try to force it. Try to think about something else." "Like what? It's a little like telling me not to think of pink polar bears." Sarah emptied her glass of water in two gulps. "Tell me the plan." "What do you mean?" "Why do you want to dress up as Tinkerbell?" Nikki laughed. "Sweetie, I'm not Tinkerbell. You are. I'm Wendy." "Huh?" "You know how Halloween is a chance to let a different side of you out?" "Mm-hm." "Well, you've read Peter Pan, right?" "Nope. Only seen the cartoon." "Same thing. You know how Wendy basically becomes a substitute mother for Peter and the lost boys?" "I suppose," Sarah said warily. "I want to show off our secret side without anybody figuring it out." "So you're going to be Mommy Wendy, but why would I be Tink? And how does she fit into this?" Nikki shrugged. "Well, when she's jealous of Wendy, she does behave like a bit of a brat. I'm pretty sure that both Peter and the lost boys would think she's being really childish." "So you want me to wear...?" "Yep." Nikki nodded. "Big ones." "But people will see them." "That's the whole point. That's why we have the whole Mommy Wendy and Bratty Tink explanation. Nobody's going to expect you to have real diapers on underneath the costume ones." "What?!?" Sarah sat up and looked at Nikki. "Are you serious?" "That's why we're doing this," Nikki said calmly. "Look, we both know you like wetting your diapers. Right?" Sarah blushed. "Yeah," she admitted sheepishly, casting a quick glance around the nearly empty diner to see if anybody could hear them. "And this is like the one day of the year when you can get away with wearing giant diapers in public. And using them." "But you know I can't do it. I mean, at home or in the car is one thing, but in public?" "That sweetie," Nikki kissed Sarah's forehead, "is why we're practicing." "Practicing?" "It's two weeks until Halloween. Every day between now and then, I want you to wear a diaper and wet it while you're out in public," Nikki said quietly. "Every day?" "Yep." Sarah looked mortified at what Nikki said. "But... but..." "Can you think of another way of getting over that particular mental hurdle?" Sarah sighed. "No," she admitted. "So are you going to be a good little girl and do as you're told?" "Yes Ma'am," Sarah said demurely. "But can we go outside? Maybe it's easier to do it while standing?" Nikki considered what Sarah said. "OK," she finally said, "but then you're not getting changed until we're going to the car." "And how long is that?" "I'm not telling you. Do we have a deal?" Sarah nodded hesitantly. "OK." Nikki signaled the waitress for the check and while they waited, she moved back around the table. "So, do you really have paracord and a carabiner in your bag?" "Why?" "It just makes me wonder how you run your office." Sarah grinned mischievously. "See? This is why you'll be perfect as a little bratty Tinkerbell." Nikki paid and left a generous tip before getting up. "Now, come along." *** A while later, Nikki and Sarah were leaning on the railing of the mezzanine, looking at the people milling around below them. They had been making up little stories about them, each one more outlandish than the one before. A couple walking arm in arm were suddenly adulterers cheating on their respective spouses, a woman in a big, fuzzy jacket became a closet furry and a man checking out the window display in a Victoria's Secret store became a cross-dresser who acted out scenes from Rocky Horror Picture Show with his collection of dolls in his bedroom. Sarah had been particularly proud of the chuckle she got out of Nikki with that last one. "Nikki?" Sarah said. "I've been thinking." "Oh that's never a good start," Nikki replied with a smirk. Sarah stuck out her tongue. "Seriously." "OK, What've you been thinking about?" "My safeword. I think I might need another one." "You want to change it? It's not like that's a big deal. What do you want instead of 'Mongolia'?" "No, not a new one; an extra one." "Huh? Why?" "Well," Sarah said, all of a sudden looking painfully awkward. "When I say 'Mongolia', that's a signal to stop right away." Nikki nodded. "But what if I want to keep going, just not take it further. Like, if we're at 8 and you're about to take it up to 9 and I don't want to, 'Mongolia' would stop he whole thing, but I want to keep going at 8, just not escalate. Does that make any sense or am I just rambling?" Sarah finished, almost out of breath. "I see what you mean. You want something that says 'Don't stop, but don't take it further'. Sort of half a 'Mongolia'." "Exactly." Sarah nodded. "OK, how about we just pick one of Mongolia's neighbours then?" Nikki pulled out her phone and googled Mongolia. "That'd be Russia or China." "I don't know. Those would just feel weird to use." "Yeah," Nikki agreed. "Well, it almost borders on Kazakhstan." "Yeah, the thought of Borat doesn't really keep me in the mood for our kind of fun. How about 'Attila'? That'd work, right?" "Sure, but not to be nit-picky; Attila wasn't Mongolian. That was Ghengis Khan." Nikki grinned, finally having out-triviaed Sarah. "Whatever. Attila is easier to remember." Nikki nodded slowly. "OK, just to be completely clear: Mongolia means 'stop everything' and Attila means 'don't stop, but don't go any further'?" "Yeah," Sarah's gaze went back to the people below. Nikki noticed a stick-thin woman who exited a bakery carrying several cake boxes stacked on top of each other. She was just about to reveal the woman's secrets which involved naked pie fights and numerous cans of whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles, when she noticed that Sarah had become uncharacteristically quiet. Not wanting to lose track of her next story target, Nikki glanced quickly at Sarah. The faraway look on Sarah's face made her forget about the woman below. She inched closer until their shoulders almost touched and nudged Sarah gently. "Are you...?" she asked. "Mm-hm," Sarah replied dreamily, her eyes half-closed. Nikki waited until Sarah recovered, then she whispered so none of the passers-by would hear, "Do you need to be changed?" Sarah shook her head. "No, not yet. It was just a little." "OK." Nikki paused, then she realised something. "You're going to do it again, aren't you." Sarah blushed. "At home it's a lot easier once the diaper is already a little wet. I want to see if it's the same now." It was.

I'm writing this for the 3rd kasarberang non-contest. Chapter 1 I finished the block of code I was working on and started the unit tests. As the project built, I turned to the Web browser on my second monitor and started scrolling through the videos, trying to find one I hadn't already watched. I finally found one. The title was promising. "Slut takes 3 dicks." The thumbnail showed a wide-eyed woman with her lips wrapped around the shaft of an impressively thick cock. The balls resting on her chin. I glanced back at my work. There were a few green ticks indicating that the first tests had completed successfully but there were many more remaining. I had plenty of time so I started the video so I unzipped my pants. Enjoying porn on company time was just one of the many benefits of working from home. I was just getting into a rhythm when my phone began ringing. Without pausing, I looked down at it on the desk. The caller was identified as Melanie Baker. She was the wife of Brad, a friend of mine. I was actually rather envious of Brad, Melanie was hot. I ignored the ringing and kept going. I was already imagining Melanie in place of the star of the video and myself in the place of each of the men penetrating her. My climax came long before that of the video and I fell back into my chair panting, my cock still hanging out. My phone started ringing once more. It was Melanie again. This time I answered it. “Hi Melanie.” “Robert.” She said urgently. “I need your help.” “Huh?” I couldn’t imagine what problem she could have that would need my help specifically. Surely she had her own friends to call. “Brad was working on a story. He was obsessed with it. Something about a bunch of disappearances being connected.” Brad was a freelance journalist. “He told me he was getting close but then he didn’t come home. I’m really worried.” “So what can I do?” I asked. “All of Brad’s research is in his computer. There must be some clue where he was going there.” She explained. “But I don’t know his password. You know about computers. I thought maybe you could figure out how to get in.” “Yeah probably.” I agreed, seeing the potential to spend time alone with Melanie and with her in such an emotionally vulnerable state. “I’ll be right over.” When I arrived at Brad and Melanie’s apartment, Melanie answered the door with tears in her eyes and greeted me with a tight hug. “Oh Robert. Thankyou for coming.” “It’s no problem, really.” I hoped she wouldn’t notice my growing arousal. “Where’s Brad’s computer?” “In his office.” She released me and led me to a small room with a laptop sitting on a desk, surrounded by piles of paper. I moved the mouse and the black monitor came to life, showing the login screen. After clicking around a bit and finding no obvious way around it, I pulled out a USB stick from my pocket and plugged it in before restarting the machine. The computer booted into my pre-prepared Linux environment. This gave me access to the laptop’s harddrive. “Okay.” I declared. “Here’s his documents folder. And luckily he hasn’t encrypted anything.” “Can you find the research he was working on?” Melanie moved closer, placing a hand on my back. “Yeah. I think so.” I found and opened the most likely file. “I think this is it.” It contained chunks of an unfinished article interspersed with notes, documenting interviews and contact details. Brad had apparently found connections and patterns in the disappearances of a number of people, all but twol were women. Tthe men were each married to one of the women and disappeared at the same time as her. Most of the women were scientists, engineers and doctors, many with impressive achievements in their fields. He had concluded that they had not been murdered or abducted. They had chosen to leave. Brad had been particularly interested in Rachel Harbourne, one of the women who had disappeared. She wasn’t an engineer or a scientist. She was the ex-wife of the founder of some tech company and had left the marriage with over a billion dollars of his money. Brad had dug into her investments and had found a remote property that she owned indirectly through a convoluted network of shell companies. He was convinced that he would find the missing women there. “That has to be where he was going.” Melanie exclaimed. “It’s only about an hour away from here too. You’re my hero Robert.” She kissed me on the cheek. “What do we do now?” I wondered. “We go there.” She seemed uncertain. "Right now." “It would be too dark when we got there. We'll go first thing tomorrow." I said then saw an opportunity and added “I’ll stay here tonight so you don’t have to be alone.” "No.” She must have heard the enthusiasm in my voice because all doubt was gone. “We need to go tonight. Brad might be in trouble.” So I soon found myself driving down a deserted, unlit road with Melanie in the passenger seat. There was no address, only coordinates to put into the GPS, that gave us a marker which was at least a kilometre from any road on the map. As we got closer it wasn’t clear how we could actually get to the property. “Was that a road?” Melanie suddenly asked. “Back there on the left.” I checked the screen in the dashboard. “There’s nothing on the map.” “We have to go back and check.” She insisted. “That might be it.” I slowed down and did a U-turn. She was right, it was a road, well more a dirt track. We followed it and soon had confirmation that we were in the right place. “That’s Brad’s car.” Melanie pointed excitedly. I pulled up behind it and Melanie was out before I’d even come to a complete stop. “It’s locked.” She informed me when I joined her. “He must have decided it was better to go on foot from here.” I suggested, then noticed something through the trees. “Look. There’s some lights over there.” “Let’s go.” She took off in that direction. I chased her and saw that the light was coming from the window of a large building. As we got closer, I could see it was just one of many buildings but the only one with light in the windows. “What the fuck?” Melanie said as she reached the window. I joined her looking into the building. There was Brad, totally naked, on all fours on a table. A blonde woman was standing, fully clothed, beside him with a hand around his cock. There were two other naked men, in similar positions. Women stood around the room in small groups watching. "He's joined a bloody sex cult." I tried not to sound too happy. If anything was going to get me into Melanie's panties this was it. Maybe she'd come to me for comfort or maybe for revenge. It didn't matter if it got her into bed. The blonde woman moved her hand up and down Brad’s member. Initially, he just held his position, looking down at the table beneath him but soon he started moving back and forth with the rhythm. I absent-mindedly rubbed my growing erection through my pants as I watched. "Enjoying the show?" I heard a woman's voice behind me. Melanie and I both turned away from the window to see two women, armed with strange looking guns. After taking a moment to consider my options, I ran for it. I didn't get far before feeling a sharp pain in my right butt cheek. My legs started to feel weak as I felt for the source of the pain. I found a small dart and pulled it out as everything went black. I woke up surrounded by wooden bars. I could feel that I was naked except for some weirdly thick underwear. I ran my hands over this strange garment. It was covered in soft plastic and fastened at the front with tapes. With some effort, I sat up to examine it, confirming my fear. I was wearing a diaper. a ridiculously huge puffy disposable diaper, decorated with cartoon teddy bears in various pastel colours. I tried to take it off but the lingering effects of the tranquiliser left me too weak and uncoordinated. A door opened and a light turned on. "Looks like someone is finished with his nap." A woman's face, with olive skin and framed by long black hair, appeared, looking down over the bars. I suddenly realised what the bars were. I was in a giant cot. "Who are you?" I demanded. "And why am I wearing a diaper?" "You can call me Dr. Patel." She answered. "And the diaper is so you don't make a mess on the floor." "Where am I?" I continued my questions. "What have you done with Melanie?" "Patience. Everything will be explained in good time." She lowered one side of the cot. "But right now you only have to worry about finishing your bottle." "Bottle?" I asked, confused as she took my hand and led me to a long sofa. I tried to pull away but found I wasn't strong enough. She sat me in the middle of the sofa then picked up a large baby bottle full of a white liquid and sat at one end. "Just lay down and Dr. Patel will feed you." I made a feeble attempt to resist as she guided me to lay down across the sofa with my head in her lap. She smiled down at me as she brought the large nipple of the bottle to my lips. Even though I tried to clamp my mouth shut, she easily forced it in. The nipple filled my mouth. I tried to push it back out with my tongue but that only caused the liquid inside to squirt I to my mouth. In that position, I had no choice but to swallow it. "See." Dr. Patel said. "It doesn't taste so bad." She was right but it wasn't the taste I objected to. It was laying there in a diaper being fed like an infant. I wanted to ask why she was doing this to me but trying to talk only caused my mouth to fill with more of the liquid. "Good boy." She cooed. "Drink it all up." Whatever her reasons, it was clear she wasn't going to take that nipple out of my mouth until I had drunk the whole bottle so, resigned to this, I got to work. I had finished about half of it when my stomach started feeling uncomfortable. I kept going but a little while later it started cramping. "Is your tummy feeling yucky?" Dr. Patel must have noticed my discomfort. "Don't worry. It's just the laxatives starting to work. The muscle relaxants should kick in soon and then you'll feel much better." Now realising the purpose of the diaper, I started struggling against her again. She easily held me in place and kept the nipple in my mouth. I only succeeded in filling my mouth with more of the laxatives, muscle relaxants and who knows what else. "All done." She finally declared, pulling the bottle out of my mouth. "It won't be long now." She released me and I stood up. As promised, the muscle relaxants had muted the cramps but I could still feel what was coming. I had to find a toilet fast. On unsteady legs, I made my way to the door but I found that the doorknob was too much of a challenge for my hands. I knew that what was coming was inevitable but I still tried to fight it. I ordered my butthole to squeeze tightly shut and, for a while, it obeyed. With all of my attention on not shifting myself, my bladder took the opportunity to release, flooding the diaper. I felt the pee pool between my legs before being absorbed by the paddling. Dr. Patel didn’t move from her spot on the sofa. She just sat there, watching me with a patient smile. "Just let it happen." She suggested. "Don't worry. I won't leave you in a messy diaper. I'll get you cleaned up as soon as you're done. Her encouragement was unnecessary. At that moment, I finally lost the battle and the mess filled the seat of my diaper. It kept coming, squeezing up the back and the front. When it was finished, the diaper seemed ready to burst but, despite sagging heavily, it held on. "That's some laxative isn't it?" Dr. Patel laughed as she finally stood up. "It cleans you out completely, much more thoroughly than an enema." Too ashamed to offer any response, I meekly allowed her to lead me into the next room. With each step, I felt the mess against my skin. This room was far more clinical than the first. In the centre was what looked like a gynaecologist's examination chair. At least that's what they looked like in the fetish videos I'd watched. Dr. Patel led me straight to the chair. "Sit here and I'll get you cleaned up." I desperately wanted to be out of that diaper so I did as I was told. I didn't protest as she guided my feet onto the stirrups and strapped them in place or when she fastened a belt across my stomach. A large mirror took up most of the wall I was facing. As I looked at myself in that bulging diaper I had a terrible feeling it was actually a one-way viewing window. She pressed a button and the back of the chair lowered, pulling me back into a lying position, as the stirrups lifted my legs above me and spread them apart. “Okay. Now for the yucky bit.” She undid the tapes open and let my diaper fall open. She pulled a face but got to work, cleaning me with baby wipes. Working methodically, Dr. Patel started just under my stomach and then moved down to the base of my cock. I couldn’t help growing a little hard as she began to wipe the shaft. “Enjoying the attention?” She giggled and moved on to my balls, which did nothing to reduce my arrousal. Continuing to work her way down, she cleaned the mess off my bottom then wiped through my crack. She lingered on my butthole, pressing gently until it yielded to her fingers. I let out an involuntary moan of pleasure and my cock grew even harder. “I see you like that.” She smiled, removing her fingers from my arse and wiping the rest of my crack. “You’re going to love the procedure then.” “What procedure?” I did not like the sound of that. “What are you going to do to me?” “You’ll find out in just a moment.” She wiped my lower back and after inspecting her work declared. “There. All clean.” Leaving me strapped in place, She threw the used diaper and wipes into a nearby bin and moved to a sink to wash her hands. She took her time, either being very thorough or just deliberately making me wait, helpless with my bare bottom presented to that mirror. . Finally, Dr.Patel opened a cabinet, from which she removed a metallic cylinder. She carried it over to me and smiled at me from between my raised legs. “This is why we had to make sure your bottom was cleaned out.” She held up the cylinder, confirming my fears. “And the muscle relaxants will help it go in without hurting you.” I heard a clink as she put the device aside, then felt her fingers penetrating my butthole again but this time they were cold and slimy. “Just some lubrication to help it go in.” She explained, spreading the gel. I started to grow hard again in spite of my fear of what was coming next. Dr. Patel withdrew her fingers. A moment later I felt the smooth rounded end of the metal device replace them. “Just relax.” She said gently as she pushed it inside me. I gasped as I felt it slide deeper inside me. Precum started dribbling from the end of my rock-hard cock. “I knew you’d enjoy it.” She slid the device out a little. Then back in, slightly deeper than before. “Now I just have to find the right spot.” She moved it in and out a couple more times then said. “There.” I yelped as I felt a brief stinging pain inside me. I lasted less than a second but it seemed it was enough to make my erection disappear as Dr. Patel pulled the device out of my bottom. “What did you do to me?” I asked. “I’ve just installed your prostate chip.” She put the device down and returned to the sink to wash her hands again. When she returned, she stood at my side. “Now let’s test it.” She gently stroked my, now limp, cock. It felt good but I didn’t start to get hard again. “Good.” She began tapping on a bracelet on her left wrist and my cock became fully erect. “Excellent.” She tapped a couple more times and suddenly I began to squirt cum onto my stomach and chest. Weirdly, I didn’t feel any pleasure from this orgasm. “What did you do to my cock?” I demanded. “The chip is connected to the nerves in your bottom and groin.” She took out more baby wipes and cleaned the cum off of me. “Among other things, it lets us control your erections and ejaculations. Men have proven they can’t be trusted to control their penises so the chip gives that control to someone more responsible.” “What sort of feminist bullshit is this?” I demanded. “You bitches need a good…” I stopped and screamed as I suddenly felt a pain just like getting kicked in the balls. “That’s one of the other things it does.” She tapped her bracelet and the pain was instantly gone. “Behave yourself and you won’t have to feel that too often.” She took out a tissue and wiped up the tears running down the sides of my face. “You’re going to be a good boy for me aren’t you?” I wanted to tell her to go fuck herself but I didn’t ever want to feel that pain again. I remained silent and turned my head away from her. I heard her moving around then heard a plastic crinkling sound and turned to find her back between my legs, unfolding another big diaper. I was too afraid to say anything so I just laid there pouting silently as she slid it under my bottom. Once she had me taped into my new diaper, she moved the chair back up into the sitting position. “Don’t you touch that diaper.” She warned as she released me from the straps. “Now let’s introduce you to Ms. Harbourne.” She led the way out of the room. I hesitated. “Like this? In just a diaper?” “Of course. That’s how all of the boys dress.” She held the door open. “Now hurry up if you don’t want to get in trouble.” She motioned toward her bracelet. I quickly followed her out of the room into a hallway. At the other end, Dr. Patel knocked on a door. “Yes?” came a woman’s voice. “Come in.” She pushed the door open and led me into the room where a well-dressed woman sat behind a large ornate desk. She was middle-aged but still in great shape. “Rachel.” Dr. Patel greeted the woman. “I’ve installed Robert’s prostate chip and it is working properly.” “Thankyou Inika.” The woman ignored me for a moment and addressed Dr. Patel . “Good night.” “Goodnight.” Dr. Patel left me alone with the woman. “Hello Robert.” She smiled at me. “You may call me Ms. Harbourne.” When I didn’t respond, she said. “Don’t be rude Robert. I’m sure Dr. Patel warned you what happens to boys who are rude.” I looked at her wrist. She wore a bracelet just like Dr. Patel’s. “Hello Ms Harbourne.” I said, feeling like a schoolboy greeting his teacher. “Good boy. You can sit down.” She indicated a chair in front of her desk and sat on it. “I’m sure you’re very confused right now.” She went on. “You are in a little town I have founded as a model for a new society, one where women are in charge. I was sick of being mistreated by men and after the divorce settlement I had the resources to do something about it. I made contact with talented women who shared my feelings and together we built all of this.” “So, you’re punishing me for being a man?” I asked, hoping that maybe there was some way to talk my way out of the bizarre situation I had found myself in. “Oh no honey. This isn’t a punishment.” She said with genuine sweetness. “We don’t hate men. We understand that you can’t control yourselves. It’s not your fault. I promise that you are safe and we will take good care of you. If you accept your new position I’m sure you can be very happy here.” “And If I’m not happy here?” I asked. “Can I leave?” “No. I’m sorry but I can’t let you do that.” She said, “You would tell people what we are doing before we were ready and they would come and ruin everything.” I sighed. It was worth a try. “Okay but what about the diapers?” "Men have always needed women to take care of them like you are babies and we are your mommies." She explained. “Keeping you in diapers just makes that explicit.” "I thought you said it wasn't a punishment." Maybe I could at least negotiate a less humiliating outfit. "It isn't. It is just a reminder of your dependence on us, to keep your ego under control. When a man's ego gets too big it only creates problems for himself and everyone else." She explained patiently, as though she was speaking to a small child. "I know this feels like a punishment right now because you think it is humiliating. That's just your ego creating a problem for you. Let it go, accept your dependence and you will be quite comfortable in your diapers." Without thinking, I rolled my eyes at this. “Bullshit.” I realised my mistake a moment too late. “Robert.” Ms Harbourne rose from her seat and her tone became suddenly stern. “I will not accept rude language from you.” “I’m sorry.” I said. I was about to burst into tears as I anticipated the pain from the device they put in my butt. However, as she made her way around the desk, she didn’t reach for her bracelet. “I understand that you’re cranky. It is past your bedtime but next time you use bad language you will be punished.” Her voice was already softening again. “Do you understand?” “Yes.” I nodded quickly. “Yes, Ms Harbourne.” “Good Boy.” She was smiling again. “Now, I’d better get you to bed.” Ms Harbourne held out her hand. I hesitated for a moment but knew she could force me if she wanted to so I got to my feet and took it. She led me out of her office and back through the building to an entryway with double glass doors looking out into the dark night. “It’s a bit chilly outside.” She took some neatly folded baby blue fabric from a nearby shelf. “Let's get you into this.” She let part of the fabric hang down, a pair of blue fuzzy legs. “Step in.” She held it out for me. Eager to finally have my diaper hidden, I did as I was told. The material was soft and warm. The feet were closed and had rubber soles built in. Ms Harbourne pulled the rest of the material up my body and guided my arms in before pulling up a long zip which ran all the way from my left foot up to my neck. I realised that I’d just been dressed in a footed bodysuit like a baby but I didn’t mind. It felt snug and comforting. Outside, I tried to get my bearings. As Ms Harbourne led me along a footpath, I looked for the big building where Melanie and I had found Brad. If I could identify that, I could figure out how to get back to my car. “This is my house.” She indicates the building we were walking toward. “You’ll stay with me until we decide who will adopt you.” I rolled my eyes at the idea of being adopted. Fortunately, she wasn’t looking at me. Then I spotted the building I was looking for. From where I was, I could see the entrance and, above it, a sign which read “Milking Shed.” I was about to make a break for it when I remembered that I didn’t have my keys. With a sigh, I followed Ms Harbourne into the house. As soon as we were inside, she unzipped my bodysuit. Reluctantly, I allowed her to remove it, leaving me in just my diaper again. I wasn’t cold, It seemed that the buildings here were kept at a comfortable temperature for walking around naked. From the entrance, she led me into the living room. Two long white leather sofas and a large marble coffee table were in the centre of the room, leaving plenty of space on every side. An enormous television took up most of one wall. The other walls were decorated with paintings. “Now, I do need to get you into bed.” She said, “But, before that, are you hungry?” My stomach had settled down since the laxatives and was now feeling very empty. “Yes.” “I thought you might be.” She sat at the end of one of the sofas. “Come and sit with me.” She patted the cushion next to her. I didn’t understand what was going on but I didn’t want to get in trouble so I joined her. As I did, she began unbuttoning her blouse. She pulled it open and, with absolutely no hesitation, undid a clip at the front of her bra, releasing her breasts. From my position, next to her on the sofa, I could just see the smooth pink skin behind her open blouse and the large, dark nipple protruding from that. I nearly got up for a better view but that wasn't necessary because she turned to face me, showing me everything. She then began massaging her breasts, one in each hand, kneading the soft flesh. I didn't know what was going on but I was afraid that if I asked she might stop. Out of habit, my hand found its way down to my groin and started rubbing my cock through my diaper. However it remained totally limp, apparently unimpressed by the show. “What’s the matter?” Ms Harbourne teased gently. “Is your diaper wet?” I blushed and moved my hand away but kept watching her play with her breasts. Soon drops of liquid began to form on the nipples. She looked down and smiled. "Okay. I think they are ready for you.” “Huh?” I was confused. “Ready for what?” “To nurse, silly.” She collected some of the liquid on her finger and transferred it to my lips. It tasted sweet. “This will be your food from now on.” I had mixed feelings about that. I certainly liked the idea of putting her breasts in my mouth. However, drinking her milk, especially while dressed like a giant baby, wasn’t appealing at all. “Don’t be shy.” Her hands moved to gently guide my head down into position. Frozen by indecision, I neither cooperated nor resisted and she pulled my face against her chest. I felt her firm, wet nipple pressed against my lips, demanding entrance to my mouth. Part of me wanted to open wide and get a mouthful of breast but I couldn’t bring myself to surrender to this babyish treatment. “Open up.” Mr Harbourne said, her tone as sweet as the milk I could already taste dribbling into my mouth. Resting my head against one arm, she took hold of her breast with the opposite hand and rubbed her nipple back and forth over my lips. “Come on. All men love boobies.” She wiggled a finger in between my lips and used it to force my mouth open. “Just another way you never really grow up.” I considered biting her finger but I was sure that would not end well for me. She soon managed to pry my mouth open enough to force her breast in. “There you go.” I tried to protest but intelligible speech was impossible with my lips wrapped around her nipple and the movement just made her milk squirt into my mouth. I swallowed it and the action squeezed more out, it was a vicious cycle and I soon realised the only way out would be to nurse until the milk was finished. Luckily, it actually tasted pretty good. She let out a sigh of pleasure as I settled into a rhythm “See. It’s not so bad.” She was clearly enjoying this. “We know you boys never grow out of needing to breastfeed. It’s why you’re obsessed with our breasts. You turn it into something crass but that’s just because you can’t admit what you really need.” Unable to argue, I just continued sucking and swallowing. She held me firmly against her body. “We’ve developed a way to make our breast milk a complete and balanced diet for an adult. You’ll never need to eat anything else.” Her breathing and little involuntary movements told me she was enjoying this. When the milk from that breast stopped, she moved me to the other one. She stroked my naked back, running her hand down to the waistband of my diaper and back up. “Good boy. Drink it all up.” Finally, I finished and Ms Harbourne released me. “Okay. Now let’s get you to bed.” Not bothering to refasten her bra or blouse, she stood and led me deeper into the house. “This will be your nursery for now.” She pushed open a door, revealing a bedroom furnished with an adult-sized cot and change table. Under the change table were stacks of diapers just like the one I was wearing. “Do you need a diaper change before bed?” Without waiting for a response, she patted the seat of my diaper and then gave my groin a little squeeze. “Nope. Still clean.” She lowered the side of the cot. “In you go.” When I hesitated her voice once again took on a stern edge. “Do I need to remind you what happens to naughty boys?” She didn’t need to remind me. I climbed into the cage and she pulled the side back up, clicking it into place. “Good night.” The edge was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “There’s a baby monitor.” She pointed at a baby blue plastic device mounted high on the wall. It had a camera pointed down into the cot. “So I can check on you. If there’s anything wrong, just call out and I’ll hear you.” With that, she turned off the light and left, closing the door behind her. Now alone, I considered ripping off the diaper. However, that would leave me naked. My next thought was climbing out of the cot. The bars weren’t too high. I could easily pull myself over them but then I considered the camera. I had no way to know if Ms Harbourne was watching. I decided that she’d just glance at the video occasionally and the chances she was watching right then were slim. I’d have to risk it. I pulled myself up and threw one leg over the rail. Suddenly, the pain hit me again. I let go, instinctively moving my hands to protect my groin. As I fell backward, I wet myself from the shock and pain. I hit the mattress and the pain stopped. “Crazy bitch!” I said, angrily. Moments later, the door opened and Ms Harbourne stepped inside. “I warned you about using bad language.” She turned on the light and crossed the room to the cot. I was so afraid that I wet myself again as she lowered the side. “Come here.” She held out a hand. Reluctantly, I took it and let her help me out of the cot. She led me to a chair where she sat. "Lay here." She patted her lap. "What?" I didn't understand. "Boys who say bad words get spanked." She explained. "No way." I backed away. "I am not letting you spank me." She made an exaggerated motion toward her bracelet. "Be careful, Robert." I got the message and positioned myself across her lap. She hooked he fingers over the back waistband of my diaper and pulled it down just far enough to expose my butt cheeks. Whack. Her palm came down on my bare bottom, making me yelp in pain. It stung far more than I had expected. "Why does it hurt so much?" I whined, pathetically. Whack. She gave me another smack before explaining. "Your prostate chip lets me adjust your sensitivity down there. I have turned it up to help you learn your lesson." Whack. "I've learned it." Whack.I wet myself once again as the next impact landed. Whack. The pain and humiliation were too much and I started to sob. "I'm sorry." I flinched as her hand came back down to rest gently on my tender bottom. "It's okay. It's finished." She left her hand there for a moment then said. "Go get up on the change table and I'll get you into a dry diaper." I stood up, still crying and waddled over to the change table with my soggy diaper hanging off my throbbing bottom. I climbed up on the table and laid down on the soft towelling on top.. Ms Harbourne came over to the table and untaped the diaper. “You’ve really soaked this one.” She rolled it up and dropped it into the bin with a heavy thud.. “I think I’m going to need to keep you in thicker diapers at night.” I just laid there trying to get my sobbing under control as she wiped my privates clean. The gentle, caring attention was soothing and by the time she slid the new diaper under my bottom, I had calmed down. The padding definitely felt thicker than my previous diaper and as she pulled it up between my legs, it forced them apart. I looked as she stuck the tapes in place. The shiny plastic bulged out ridiculously from my crotch. The print on this one was stars, all with friendly little faces. “Almost done. Just need to make sure the leak guards are right” Ms Harbourne announced, inserting a finger into each leg hole. It tickled but in a not-entirely unpleasant way. “Otherwise all the padding in the world won’t save your bed.“ I squirmed as she ran her fingers around my thighs. Clearly she’d left my bottom extra-sensitive. “Okay. Down you get and back into your cot.” I climbed down, moving awkwardly in the puffy diaper. With my knees forced apart, I couldn’t walk normally and waddled back to the cot. “You look adorable.” Mr Harbourne giggled as she followed me. “I might need to keep you in these overnight diapers full-time.” As I climbed back onto the mattress, she encouraged me with a gentle pat on my thickly padded bottom. “Now don’t try to get out again. I probably should have warned you that the cot has sensors which automatically trigger your chip if you get out.” She raised the bars back into place. “The same thing will happen if you get too far from one of these.” She held up her bracelet. “Goodnight Robert.” She once again turned off the light and left the room. Even sleeping was awkward in the enormous overnight diaper. I couldn’t lay on my side with the bulk between my thighs. I tried my back but the padding under my bottom made that uncomfortable. Finally I settled on sleeping on my stomach, of course this meant my diapered butt was sticking up in the air. I tried not to think about how babyish I looked.

This story is a translation from an unfinished story I wrote in French a few years back. I've changed up a few little things, but it's still mostly the same. I'm translating it in small bits at a time, but I'm also planning to keep going once I reach the end of what I originally wrote. Hopefully you guys enjoy it! The Awakening Chapter 1: A brutal awakening Everything is foggy. I’m trying to wake up. I feel like I’m trying to swim up from the depths of the ocean. Darkness turns to gray, then to blinding light. I’ve opened my eyes. It takes a few attempts until I’m able to keep them open for more than a second or two. I think I also dozed off in between those attempts. I’m not really sure. Eventually though, it seems like I’m able to keep them open. Where am I? My vision is very clouded, but I can see I’m lying in a bed. I think it’s a hospital bed : the room does look a lot like a hospital room. I’m covered with a very light sheet. I feel so weak, I can barely lift my head. There’s a pole next to me, with a bag of solute hung onto it and a tube goes from it straight into my arm. I feel like I’ve been asleep for months. But as much as I try, I can’t remember being in any sort of accident or anything that might lead to me being hospitalized. How long have I been here? My vision is awful, but as I look around me, I don’t notice any flowers, cards or any of the kind of stuff you would typically expect if I had been in a hospital and I had been visited by friends and family. Either it hasn’t been long enough for that to happen, or, and it makes me shudder to think, I've been there for so long that this kind of “get well” stuff has been removed and not replaced. That or maybe movies have been lying to me all my life about how these things go. This thought is enough to make me smile weakly. On that thought, I also realize that this hospital is weirdly silent. If this were really a hospital, wouldn’t there be nurses and people walking about everywhere? But I can’t hear anyone, as if I were completely alone. This thought wakes me up a little bit more, and I’m starting to feel tinges of panic making its way across the thick fog of my mind. With great pain, I try to move my arms, but try as I might, I feel like my arms have been replaced by wet spaghetti. With great effort, I move my head to look at them through my foggy vision. It’s hard to be sure, but from what I can see it seems like my arms are extremely skinny. I’ve never been fat, but those arms look like what you’d see in an african famine documentary! My heart starts beating faster as panic once again creeps into me. How long have I been here? I feel a piece of rubber near my hand. Moving my fingers to touch it, I think it’s another tube, and I think it’s going under the sheets. The discomfort I feel around my privates confirms that this must be a catheter. In fact, this piece of tube going inside me is so uncomfortable I wonder how I didn’t notice it before, though I’m still so numb to everything that maybe it isn’t all that surprising. For the first time the thought truly crosses my mind : I was in a coma. And looking at my arms, it seems obvious that I’ve been in that state for at least some time. Immediately I start thinking of those stories where people awaken after years in a coma and struggle to get back to their old life because it’s been so long. How long would it take for me to lose as much weight as I did? I try to remember how old I am. How.. old? I… I can’t remember. A vague memory of entering a brand new apartment flashes in my mind. And entering university? So I’m.. college aged? I try to reason. At most, I must have been asleep a couple weeks, maybe a few months at the max. People who wake up from a coma after years are extremely rare, and when they do they’re basically vegetables, unable to do anything for themselves. Vegetable. That word makes me feel a deep pit in my stomach. The silence of the room becomes suffocating. I don't understand why I haven’t seen a nurse yet. Shouldn’t I be hooked up to a machine that would warn them if I woke up, or something like that? I try to scream, but the only sound I’m able to produce is a pathetic moan. This attempt at screaming sends a wave of deep nausea across my body. It feels like I haven’t moved a muscle in years. A fresh wave of nausea mixed in with panic besieges me at the thought that this might actually be the case. I keep moaning, with barely enough strength to do it. Suddenly, I hear a door open, and can see the silhouette approaching. It’s speaking to me, but all I can make out is complete gibberish. I try moving my limbs, but once again, I can barely move any muscle in my body. Suddenly, through the gibberish, I can hear my name: “Miss Filion”. This woman’s voice knows my name. I’m actually in a hospital. They’re gonna help me. I’m gonna get better. Relieved that I am safe, but mostly because of exhaustion, I sink back into a deep slumber. I awaken once more, this time to a male voice. The owner of that voice flashes a huge smile upon seeing my eyes open. More gibberish follows: “Miss Filion! Welcome back among us, my dear one! I am doctor Brodeur. I’m the one who took care of your case since you’ve arrived here. - Oh, we have retinal reflex! She can even follow with her eyes!” As he was speaking his incoherent words, he pointed a small light in my eyes, and was waving it left and right in front of them. With great pain, I followed that light, having some vague idea that this is what I was supposed to do. I can hear how delighted he sounds after I do that, and it makes me weirdly proud. It’s weird, I feel like I should understand the words he’s saying, but somehow they’re all scrambled when I hear them. At least I can recognize the emotions in them. I attempt a weak smile to show the doctor I’m aware. I can feel spit dripping from the side of my mouth. “Miss, can you tell me what your name is?” I can hear his voice. I can hear that he’s asking me a question. I can even recognize that he’s speaking English. But I just can’t make out the meaning of what he’s saying. My pride turns to distress. I can’t understand him. I’m a vegetable. Fuck no no no no no! It seems that he’s noticed how agitated I’ve become. “Calm down, calm down! Everything is ok! You’ve been in a coma for a long time. You need to be patient!” A single word makes its way through to my broken brain: Coma. In a coma. I try to repeat the word: “aaaaaaaaah”. I’m pathetic. I can’t speak anymore. I forgot how to. I truly am a vegetable! But I did hear the word. Coma. And I am thinking to myself, speaking to myself using words in my head. Maybe I’m not completely a vegetable. I’m here. I am here. The doctor, seemingly in reaction to my attempt at vocalizing, speaks what I suppose are encouraging words. I don’t know what he’s saying, and I once again feel myself drifting off to sleep.

TYME is on your side I’m standing at my bedroom window looking out at the view. Since we came here eight weeks ago I have to admit this place is completely different from our old apartment. Before my bedroom view overlooked a small communal garden (dumping ground) and into the back of a row of other apartments hardly fifty yards away. We lived on the third floor, in a five story block less than half a mile from the town centre. The neighbourhood was a bit on the rough side but I didn’t mind because that’s where I’d grown up and where all my friends are... were. The school was less than a ten minute walk away and I was a happy and popular kid in class. However, a few weeks ago both my parents got new jobs. I didn’t know they’d been looking for anything different so it came as a bit of a surprise when they announced one morning that in the school’s summer break, we’d be moving to a new location – miles and miles away I’d come to the end of 6th Grade and the following term, now I’m almost twelve (well in six months), I’d be moving up. I was looking forward to going with all my mates and because of that the thought of a new school wasn’t so scary. The announcement of the move had me worried and I cried that I didn’t want to leave, even having a hissy-fit, demanding that I be left with the neighbours so I could stay with all my buddies. Both my parents tried to soothe my stress and said that this was a terrific opportunity that they couldn’t afford to let pass, and it was a relatively new town in a wonderful part of the country. Everything, they emphasised, was geared for young families and we’d have a better house and a lot better standard of living. None of that meant anything to me if I wasn’t going to be with my friends. The start of the summer break was fantastic but at the back of my mind was the fact that we’d soon be moving and I’d probably never see these guys from the neighbourhood again. So when not out with them I was at home complaining about the up-coming move. I was adamant I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t know that it was a done deal and no amount of my protestations or grumpiness was going to alter the fact... we would be moving. We moved and that was six weeks ago. # Now, as I looked out from my bedroom over the fields and off into the countryside I had to admit that dad was correct - this part of the country is beautiful. Everything’s new and exciting, not least because I got my own bedroom and it was at least twice as large as my old one. Back at the old apartment I shared with my three year old brother Josh, which wasn’t ideal, what with there being such an age gap. He was still being potty trained so there was a constant odour of pee about the place, and the piles of diapers did nothing to make me feel in the least bit like a boy who was about to move up a level at school. Oh how things change in such a short time. As I look out of my window at this fine early morning it’s me standing wearing a wet diaper with plastic pants trying their best to hold it all up. I’m eleven and a half years old and surprisingly started waking up soaked on the first morning we arrived here and I don’t know why. I have to admit I was still not in the best mood and resented being taken away from all that I knew to somewhere strange and unknown. I didn’t like it and was still pouting even after I’d been shown my new room. In fact, compared to our old apartment the new house was unbelievable; all the latest mod-cons. Smart devices everywhere; you could command ‘Mimi’ do this that or the other; to turn lights on and off, play music or answer questions by simply asking. The house was large and every room spacious, it had a garden, as did all the houses on our street, that went back about thirty feet, which in turn led onto fields and had countryside in the distance. It was all so perfect but of course I was upset so stomped around behaving badly and generally being nasty to everyone about everything. I was completely disrespectful to my parents and poor little Joshy didn’t know why I wouldn’t play with him. I was getting on everyone’s nerves, which in truth was what I wanted in the hope they’d send me back to my buddies. However, when I woke up wet after that first night I was somewhat shocked and found it difficult to explain myself. Mom and dad deliberated on it and decided it was a mixture of nerves, anxiety, hormones and upset but that I should be over it in a matter of days. However, mom’s initial thought, I was just being difficult and trying to prove a point, made her attitude towards me harden. After the second and third night of it happening she insisted, despite my absolute refusal, I wear a diaper to sleep in from then on. “Until you’re over this little bit of trauma,” was the way she interpreted it but of course I made a big fuss about being treated like Josh. She was unsympathetic to my argument. “If you wet like Josh then you’ll be treated like Josh” was her assessment of the situation. She was taking no temper tantrum or dispute with what she’d decided and dad wasn’t a reliable ally as he’d once been. So, like my baby brother, I was made to wear a diaper at night. It didn’t sit well with me but at least it kept the laundry down to a minimum. I suppose mom must have spoken into ‘Mimi’ and ordered extra supplies of diapers for Josh and me because some arrived that evening right on cue for bedtime. Of course I made life as awkward as possible but mom wasn’t having it and said that if I didn’t wear one she’d just leave my smelly pee-soaked bed and I could lie in that for ever as far as she was concerned. Dad on the other-hand simply said if I didn’t wear one he’d spank my hide, something he’d never threatened before. He got my attention and that night mom fitted me, like she did Josh, into a soft fabric diaper and plastic pants. It was certainly the grumpiest bed time I’d ever had but my resentment was softened slightly by the fact that the diaper was incredibly soft... that was... to begin with. I also think there was a bit of punishment in there because they were both getting more than a little annoyed with my insolence and not giving the new place a chance. Unfortunately, with the threat of a spanking, which I’d never had in my life, ‘I’ decided to wear one at night... so that was another thing to hate this place about. That first night, despite the initial softness, I tossed and turned and wondered how Josh could sleep wearing such a mass around his little willy because I was as fidgety as hell. Of course it didn’t help that I woke up soaked, so mom had been correct in making sure I was well wrapped up for the night. However, it was becoming a regular occurrence and I was hoping to hide the fact from mom by getting to the bathroom first and changing before she could check. Unfortunately, she caught me sneaking there with wet PJs and carrying a sopping wet diaper so now insists that she sees me every morning to be inspected. I didn’t know why at that time she thought that was so important but was quite definite about it. I argued, blamed everyone but myself and absolutely refused to wear one in future but of course that amounted to nothing because when it came to night time she was there supervising making sure I did. However, that’s not why each morning I have to wait for mom to come and check my soggy diaper. So, that’s where you’ll find me most mornings, soaked and looking out of the window... waiting. # Nonetheless, despite my ‘troubles’ both parents were excited by all these new opportunities, “opportunities” they said would not be available back home. Everything was “better and brighter” here and even Josh loved that he had his own room and space to play outside. He soon had friends and our parents had loads of colleagues from work who they socialised with. They’d bring their kids over and although Josh settled in straight away, I hated these new people and either took myself off to my room or simply made life for our visitors uncomfortable. “Stop being so rude and join in.” Was my parent’s non-stop criticism about my behaviour. As I hadn’t had a choice I begrudged everything. Dad made it clear that he and mom weren’t going to put up with my dissent much longer and I’d just have to try and fit in - there was no going back because there was nothing to go back to. We had neighbours with kids my age but I hated that, despite them all being friendly enough, they weren’t Boogy, Sam, Tess, Adele, Smiffy, Amin... or indeed any of my friends from back home who I grew up with. Because everything was controlled by the smart hub, I couldn’t access any of the video games I liked to play. As there was a ‘TYME classification’ age restriction on most of those, the hub recognised my voice and limited access until an adult requested them, which they never did. Phone calls went through the hub and I wasn’t allowed to make calls again without adult supervision. So I just mooched around getting angrier and angrier. Mom and dad didn’t like what I was doing but thought I’d eventually come round and accept it all. I had other ideas... I’d simply hitch-hike home if I had to. # The town is called TYME, "TYME - is on your side" is the slogan as you entered the outskirts and which mom and dad thought set just the right tone for place. In fact, both had managed to find incredibly well-paid jobs at a new facility outside of town and if I was being honest the entire place seemed a huge step up from where we had lived and, if I hadn’t been so resentful, might have enjoyed being here. Joshy was in a huge pre-school play group every day, which a he loved. All the kids dressed in blue shorts and yellow and white t-shirts with a little emblem on the breast pocket indicating which year they were in. He went to that group every day and looked sweet and happy when they were all together. I envied Josh being able to adapt so easily but I was angry (and regarded myself as grown up) so had opinions of my own and being here wasn’t one of them. It had never even been discussed - I’d fume to myself at the injustice of it all. Meanwhile, I had yet to start at a new school, which I was dreading. The Academy, as it was called, was a huge structure that also incorporated the pre-school so all ages of kids from our section of town were together but in different parts of this enormous building. The playing fields stretched over several acres to encompass athletics and all the ball sports. Yes, the place was immense and “well-tended”, as mom enthused. Both her and dad loved how organised everything was and were passionate about their new jobs which, according to mom, were a damn sight better than anything back in our home town. I had no idea what it was they did when they got to work by 9am, but school was scheduled to start at 8.30am and finished at 4pm to fit in with company shifts. Mom was delighted that the shifts were geared so that if needed, a parent was always available to look after a young child. In fact, although the entire town was arranged to suit the needs of the company they saw that it was advantageous to look after its workforce. Family care was ‘top priority’ and well catered for with a calendar of regular fun social gatherings. As new-comers we were encouraged to meet our neighbours and make friends with a whole bunch of different folk. Josh and I were dragged along to these ‘get to know’ gatherings where it seemed everyone was keen to chat and be as amiable as possible. All the kids were well-dressed and lacked attitude, something that just wouldn’t have been acceptable at home, but were friendly enough. I hated it and kept myself away from any offer of friendship... I just didn’t want to know or get involved. I already had friends I didn’t need this lot. # Everything was in company colours - white, blue and yellow, and, as they built this town (or so I assumed) they got a say in whatever happened here. Even the police cars and emergency service vehicles were white, blue and yellow. All uniforms and official workwear was a combination of these colours. You’d find it difficult to find any other colours if you worked for the town or the company. Even the school uniform had the same colour code and again, that little emblem on the breast pocket indicated which class you were in. Most things were arranged; mom didn’t even need to wash Josh’s diapers because there was a collection service that did all that. It was the same for any family with toddlers and babies. The company was ‘green’ so diapers were made from recyclable fabrics and collected, washed and replaced weekly. Even Josh’s were in company colours, as were the plastic pants that accompanied them. Actually, now I’m wetting most nights mine come the same way but I’ve never discussed it with either parent it’s not something an eleven year old want to discuss with anyone. I explained to myself that of course I was having soggy nights because I’d been abducted from friends and neighbours I’d grown up with and knew. This was a terrible, stressful imposition so no wonder my body reacted in such a way. So, this wetness was entirely my parent’s fault and nothing to do with me... of that I was certain. Well, I say everything but the truth is, I hated waking up wet. I saw it as something else, like the move, I had no control over and that made me angry. Yet, despite my refusal to wear a diaper, I did so and could see the benefits of wearing one at night. I thought in some way at least this was something I could control, so accepted its use. Also that threat of a spanking if I didn’t made me a bit more amenable to that particular suggestion. Although my parents had never spanked me, I had noticed that their attitude towards my attitude had hardened a little so wasn’t sure if they would actually follow through with any threat. I think they thought I was coming round but I wasn’t, it was just easier and to my advantage to go along with night time diapers. I still didn’t mix and made it well known I wasn’t happy about being in this place. It was strange because each evening one of my parents had to fill in a household health report on the computer. I was told a smart hub (which ran throughout the entire house) was in everyone’s home and was explained as a way that the company could make sure shops were well stocked with what was needed. Power, water, food... everything all came under the scope of the smart monitoring gizmos everywhere. There was a small blue round hub in every room via which ‘Mimi’ would do your bidding. The powers that be said that the health and welfare of its citizens was of paramount importance so nothing, not even the slightest cough, should be left out of the daily statement. Mom said it was terrific because it took away any worries and if you needed help a touch on the computer screen and there was always someone on the other end to offer advice or solutions. # Unfortunately, my wetting continued right up to the first day of the new term and mum insisted that I wear a diaper under my uniform to make sure all went well. My uniform! Now that was a surprise as well as I only saw it on that first morning of school. At my old school it had been just normal clothes. Here it was dark blue shorts, yellow and blue polo shirt with matching blue, white and yellow striped blazer. I looked exactly like a larger version of those pre-schoolers. There was hardly any difference in what Josh and I wore, which I found insulting to my age. I complained about the shorts but mom said that all boys up to becoming teenagers wore them to school. Then, if grades were good, you got more and more independence and fewer restrictions. To me it sounded more like prison but I couldn’t get mom or dad to see that. They thought I was being silly and over dramatic and accused me of trying to make this ‘paradise’ into some kind of living hell. I hated having to wear shorts to school, even though all the others in my year wore them, it was just another thing that left me indignant. Although I’d had a couple of weeks now wearing a diaper at night, and the occasional wet day (which I didn’t tell anyone about though suspected mom had sussed), I didn’t want to wear one on that initial school day, it would have set a bad example should anyone find out. However, my no-nonsense mother put me in one first thing. She’d stripped me out of my soaked night diaper, cleaned me up and, without asking, simply put me in a new one. Needless to say I was furious but she gave me one of her looks that she wouldn’t put up with any disagreement, so that had the remarkable effect of keeping me silent. With only a few minutes to go before we had to leave I sneakily nipped back to the bathroom removed the damn thing and defiantly settled into a pair of white cotton briefs for the day instead. Getting ready for that first day I wasn’t feeling too confident because up until then I hadn’t made any new friends... so wearing briefs was a little confidence booster. There were plenty of kids around, all dressed the same, but I wasn’t interested, they weren’t MY friends and anyway, I was still hoping they’d get fed up with me and we’d all return home. Despite our neighbours on one side having kids my age, and on the other they had a couple of babies and a toddler like Joshy, I’d tried to avoid them as much as possible. As their parents also worked for the company, we all set off at the same time to school so it was a sea of blue and yellow walking down the street or disembarking from the school bus. Friends huddled in groups laughing or chatting but all seemed keen to be heading for a new term. There was a general aura of happiness about TYME, even the school kids appeared pleased to start a new term. I on the other hand, was nervous and alone and that made me feel really self-conscious. What I didn’t know was that my personal id was embedded in the school logo on my shirt pocket. With a sweep of a handheld scanner it made sure you were in the correct group but also flagged up any concerns anyone might have. So, on the first day of school the scan, despite the age group I was in, indicated to the teacher that I should be wearing protection as I was ‘incontinent’. I couldn’t believe that mom had let the powers that be know I wet... that was a breach of my privacy. The teacher with the scanner seemed a little perplexed and wondered first of all if I was in the correct class (had they got Josh and James mixed up somehow?) but then, after a few moments chat and deliberation with an unknown contact at the other end of the screen, in front of a line of girls and boys my own age, I was checked if I was wearing suitable protection. On finding I had briefs and not the required diaper I was told to report to the school nurse for ‘redressing’. I was so embarrassed and seething at such facts being made available to any person I upped and went home without going anywhere near the nurse’s office. I didn’t know that everyone’s medical and social records were stored and evaluated daily so any problems could be nipped in the bud. To me it was just another intrusion into my life, which I didn’t have back home. # My first day at school and my first bunking off... It was quite a walk but of course mom and dad had gone to work by the time I arrived at the house, Josh was at pre-school so I needed to get in. However, the door was locked and I didn’t have a key and my badge didn’t allow access. Thankfully, the weather was fine so I just went for a stroll through the woods expecting to be out and about in the fresh air for the rest of the day until 4:00pm, when I knew I’d be able to access the house. I walked out of our garden and into the back field intent on reaching the wooded area in the distance. It was whilst on this walk I hoped to formulate a plan to get away from this awful place and make my way back to a proper town... my home town. I knew it was going to be difficult. It had been quite a long drive to get here in the first place and I remember (as I was half asleep for most of the journey) that we turned off the main highway and drove for ages before we reached this place. The journey was up hills and down dales, through huge wooded areas and farming land before we got to a junction that pointed access to the town. TYME itself seemed quite a distance from any other civilization but, when we arrived, the bustling centre as far as I could see was new and just as busy as any other place I’d been to. Also, another surprise was that we had a coastline and the town, built on a hill, sloped down to beaches, harbour and small marina. As I thought about all this my mind was busy trying to calculate the distance I’d have to hitch-hike to even get to a main road. I came to the conclusion that perhaps a boat might be a possible solution except for one thing; I couldn’t sail or know which direction to go in. I’d have to try and find a map. Whilst all this was swirling around in my head I hadn’t noticed I was being followed by a man in a blue and yellow uniform (of course) on a quad-bike. “And where exactly are you going?” He demanded once I noticed him. “Just a walk around, I’m new here so just checking things out.” I replied but not very confidently. “Really,” He dismounted from his transport, “Well let me just check who I have here and where you should be.” He produced a scanner with a screen and held it over the logo on my shirt. “Mmm,” he read, “James Llewelyn, son of Anthony and Marion Llewelyn and, according to this, you should be in a history class back in school.” I was shocked he knew so much about me but of course, the scan this morning had told the teacher other stuff I didn’t want anyone else to know. Did this (I looked at his badge) Rural Deputy now have all that info on his device? “So, you shouldn’t be out here on your own without supervision but mainly... you should be in school. Your parents will be in trouble for this.” “Big deal,” I thought but didn’t say anything. “Come on, hop on I’ll give you a lift back.” “No, it’s OK, I’ll find my own way back thanks... I made it this far.” He looked at me as if he wasn’t used to anyone disagreeing with his directive. “I don’t think so James,” His tone was even but only just, “my job is to make sure you return to where you’re supposed to be... so, on you get.” He indicated the seat in front of him. “No, fuck off and leave me alone. I didn’t ask for you to be here and I don’t want to go anywhere with you... I don’t even know who you are and” I acted all stupidly coy, “mom says I shouldn’t accept lifts from strangers.” This showed a great deal of just how angry I was because I wouldn’t have had the nerve to say all this to either my parents or anyone, certainly a lawman, back home. “This isn’t a request sonny... on the bike NOW.” I took off into the woods as fast as I could. “This isn’t a game.” I heard him shout as he gunned the quad up but I’d left the track and was trying not to get entangled in the undergrowth. I battled through thick foliage, brambles and stinging nettles, which clawed at my bare legs leaving painful scratches and annoying welts. Unfortunately, he knew this area better than me and was waiting when I eventually broke ground and ended up in a little clearing. “That’s enough fun and games James... your parents have given me authorization to spank you if you don’t do exactly as I say immediately.” He was waving around his scanner and I had no doubt that it contained just such permission. # I hated the fact that I’d been foiled but the drive back, with me perched in front of him on the bike, was in silence. I felt like a recaptured prisoner of war I’d seen on TV. He drove up to my front door and there was my father looking exceptionally angry. “He should be in school,” the Deputy told dad as he set me down. “Make sure he’s there tomorrow sir, there will be a ‘clarification’ issued from Central Office.” “Yes, thank you officer, I’ll see to it and sorry for any inconvenience.” He held the door open for me to enter the house. Once the door was closed, in a surprisingly quick move, my shorts came down as did my briefs and he put me over his knee and gave me a thorough spanking. It was something I’d never experienced before and I didn’t like it one bit... as I screamed the place down. I’d never seen dad so angry or experienced anything so painful, the scratches on my legs from the brambles were now forgotten as I tried to be brave. I failed. Dad was letting my bare bottom know in no uncertain terms that I’d got things very wrong indeed. Despite begging for forgiveness and screaming I was sorry, he made sure I was in no doubt that my attitude would be curtailed. I couldn’t hold back the tears and for a moment, when there was a ‘ping’ on the hub screen dad stopped and took a look at what was written. “You swore at the Deputy?” He was even more incensed at my most recent display and my bottom felt the full force of his fury. Eventually he finished and I was left a sobbing wreck but made to stand in the corner, with my hands on my head, whilst he finished reading the message on screen. My bum was extremely red and very painful and I was still snivelling when he returned. He turned me round and I noticed that I’d wet down the front of his trousers whilst being spanked I was sure he was going to spank me again so cringed as he pulled me forward. “Well James it looks like you’ve made us the first family ever to get a warning. Your behaviour will not be tolerated by anyone...” “I just want to go back home.” I whined through the pain. “Well son, that’s not an option as we’ve made clear on every occasion you’ve brought it up. This place is clean, well run and safe. There are no gangs here, no crime from what we can see and if you give it a chance you’ll find it beneficial as you grow up.” He could see I didn’t want to hear any of this... I wanted my friends and thought it a horrible thing for a parent to do... take me away from all that I knew. “I’m sorry if you think we’ve made the wrong decision but it’s you that’s wrong. Mom, Josh and I all love this place and if you weren’t so destructive I think you’d find that it offered you a whole new set of friends...” “I just want to go home...” I pleaded. “You are home son and the sooner you realise that fact, and that nothing is going to change unless you do, you are going to have a very miserable life. The bottom line is you’ll only have yourself to blame.” Dad hugged me and told me he didn’t like to discipline me like he just had BUT, if that was the only way to get through then that’d be what would be on offer in future. He guided me upstairs and took me into the bathroom where I’d left the discarded diaper from this morning. He laid me out on the changing table and, having spread lotion and powder all over my red bum and willy, attended to the scratches on my legs and then fixed the diaper back where it started though added a pair of thick white plastic pants. “I think we need to keep you safe... and son... you’ll be wearing a diaper all the time from now on.” I was still worried about possibly getting another spanking at some point so missed the main thrust of what he’d just said. Thankfully, the fluffy thick material was kind and soft on my inflamed bottom. He lifted me from the changing area and stood me up. I felt too weak to do much so he took my hand and guided me, waddling slightly and slowly, down stairs and sat me on the sofa. It was too painful, so I crawled onto the floor. “Mimi, TV please, Channel 7.” Dad commanded and the screen burst into life with a cartoon. I was too scared to say anything as dad went off to do whatever it is grown-ups do when they’re angry. I saw him run his hands through his hair as he read the hub screen. He looked across at me and shook his head. I hated to think what the ‘warning’ the deputy had threatened actually said. I hated just how sore my bum was and how easy it had been for dad to punish me so hard. Just another thing that happened here that didn’t happen back in my home town. I hated this place even more. # tbc #

My wife knew what my day had been like as I slumped into the passenger seat of her car. “Rough day at work?” She asked as the car pulled out of the parking lot and headed home. “You have no idea,” I replied. “It’s like no one believes that I can just, do my job competently. My car being stuck in the shop doesn't help either. Thanks for picking me up honey.” “Well, you can’t blame them,” My wife said. “After all, you are still Mommy’s little diaper wearing sissy. A little sissy diaper baby. Who’s Mommy’s little sissy diaper boy?” She said, her voice dropping into the teasing, mocking tone of baby talk. “Who’s Mommy’s little sissy diaper boy?” She asked again, looking over at me when I didn’t respond to her initial question. “I am,” I said, picking up at her words. “Yes you are. Yes you are. So smart, so smart. Such a smart little sissy diaper boy,” She continued on. “Do you need your diapers? I bet you need your diapers tonight, don’t you?” “Yes please, Mommy.” My wife smiled, and the rest of the drive continued on in an excited silence for the evening to come. Before we went home my Mommy/wife decided to stop at the grocery store. “I think I will make a nice yummy steak for myself tonight,” She said as we grabbed a cart and entered the store. “And we will make a nice, yummy smoothie for my little sissy. A steak is far too hard for a little sissy to eat. You need something soft and nutritious.” I tried following my wife around the store as she shopped, but, worn out from work, I began lagging behind her. About halfway through shopping, Mommy turned and sternly said to me, “That’s it little sissy, hands on the cart. If you aren’t going to be a good boy and stay with Mommy I am going to make you keep your hands on the cart so you don’t wander off and get taken home by some mean domme looking for a new sissy to punish.” Embarrassment from her words and having to keep my hands on the cart like a child was the final shot I needed to shake off my exhaustion from the office and be ready for the night ahead. When we got home, Mommy ordered me to bring my high chair up from the basement, water the garden, and bring in the mail before joining her in the bedroom. “In that order, sissy.” She made sure to emphasize. I understood the reason for the ordering when I entered our bedroom. My time outside had given her time to get ready for the evening, without me hearing her shuffle through the deep recesses of our closet for the items she had laid out on the bed. "Arms up baby," Mommy ordered as she came over to me. She had slipped into a retro 50's style dress while I was watering the vegetables and flowers. It was her go-to outfit whenever she was feeling dominant. It only took her a moment to unbutton my shirt and pull it off my body. Another minute and my socks and shoes were tossed out of the way. A third and I was stepping out of my slacks and underwear, pooled around my ankles. I was then gently laid on top of the old, pink blanket we had found at a garage sale that served as my changing mat. I watched as Mommy slid a latex glove over her hand and poured some lubricant on it. A gasp slipped past my lips as one of her fingers penetrated me. She slid it slowly in and out. In and out, gently preparing me for what was coming next. Just like she had with her finger, Mommy lubed the anal beads, then gently slid them into my asshole. Each bead felt more pleasurable than the last as it popped inside me, and I moaned as Mommy forced the last few beads in my rectum. The sensation as they entered, and the pressure against my prostate, felt wonderful. Then the sensual pleasure of the beads was replaced by a shiver as Mommy used a baby wipe to wipe off the excess lube and my sweat from the day. She grabbed the diaper set aside. The pattern had princesses wearing pink dresses and standing next to ponies. She unfolded the diaper, then roughly folded and mashed it, breaking up the tight packing of the absorbent material. This made the diaper thicker and more poofy. Satisfied with her work, she gave me a single word command, "Up." Dutifully, I raised my legs and grabbed my ankles, holding my feet aloft. Mommy then slid the diaper underneath me, and manhandled me around until I was positionedhow she wanted me. I let out another contented sigh and babyish coos as I smelled the scent of baby powder and felt it sprinkled across my skin. These soft coos quickly turned to lustful moans. Mommy always made sure the baby powder was thoroughly rubbed into my dick and balls. She finally decided she had done an adequate job of protecting my gentle sissy skin when my body was bucking in time with her ministrations. The front of the diaper was then folded up and the tapes were tightly pulled so the diaper was snug across my body, providing the sensuous comfort and cradling that every adult baby and diaper lover craves. Mommy then helped me to sit up on the edge of the bed. She slid a pair of white, frilly ankle socks onto my feet. She then pulled my pink, "Crybaby" onesie down over my head. After helping me stand up, l felt Mommy closing the crotch snaps. She then made me hold my hands out. Leather bondage mittens soon encased my hands. The snap of two heart shaped padlocks meant that I would wear all of my babyish attire until mommy decided it was time to take it off. One of my giant pink pacifiers was slipped between my lips and clipped the strap to the bib of the onesie. Lastly one of my frilly bonnets was set on top of my head and tied tightly underneath my chin. Mommy then had me lead her back downstairs to the kitchen. She always enjoyed watching me toddle down the stairs in my thick diapers, and me leading meant she didn't have to miss a moment. Once we reached the kitchen, Mommy helped me step up into my highchair, locking the tray and by extension me in place. The living room is visible from the kitchen, and Bluey was soon playing on the tv. I was also given a doll to help occupy me while I waited for dinner. I did my best to be a good sissy and wait patiently for dinner. I had already watched the episodes of Bluey Mommy had set the TV to several times though, and there wasn't much I could think to do with just a single doll. So, it only took about five minutes for the soft cradling sensation of the diaper against my dick and balls combined with the anal beads rubbing on my prostate to make me a horny little sissy in my highchair. After a couple minutes of my highchair squeaking from me trying to somehow get off by humping in place, I attracted Mommy’s attention. Mercifully or cruelly, depending on your point of view, she gave me a magic wand. It felt good, but confined as I was, I couldn't get the vibrator into the right position to do more than edge myself. Trying to cum before Mommy decided it would be more fun for her to take the vibrator away, I wet my diaper hoping the thicker padding would let me apply more pressure. It didn't thanks to the tray and my own thick thighs. Mommy giggled at me as she brought dinner over. Her steak smelled delicious and was making me salivate. I'd also only succeeded in making myself even hornier with the vibrator. Needless to say, I was frustrated at this point and didn't appreciate her laughter as she took the magic wand away from me. I glared at her, but with my pacifier and bonnet my glare only made her laugh at me more. "Oh, I see someone is a fussy baby diaper boy," Mommy said, setting her steak down on the table. It looked as delicious as it smelled, and a small amount of drool slipped past my pacifier and down my face as I looked at it. Mommy left and returned with my dinner and a bright white bib. Mommy tied the bib tightly around my neck and adjusted the tray so my arms could not get out from underneath it, while I examined my dinner. Mommy's baby food dinners for me were best summarized as eccentric. The peaches and cream had been palatable. The baby food jars of yams and green peas mixed together made me retch. I wasn't quite sure where this fit on that scale. My meal was three semi mushy purple balls in one of my baby bowls, with a baby bottle filled with water to wash whatever it was down. Mommy pulled her chair out and sat down. She took a few bites of her steak, and commented on how tender and juicy it was. She then pulled the dummy out of my mouth, scooped a large helping of the concoction up, and stuffed it into my mouth. I swallowed the spoonful and opened my mouth for more. My dinner, as it turned out, was vanilla ice cream blended with several different berries, and it was delicious. Mommy gave me a second spoonful before putting the nipple of the baby bottle to my mouth to suckle at for a bit. We kept this pattern until both of our dinners were finished, her taking a few bites of her steak and a couple sips of wine, before feeding me a couple bites and letting me suckle from my bottle. When we were both finished she wiped my face off with the bib before untying it from my neck and sticking my soother back into my mouth. I was left to sit, suck, and wonder what was next while she tidied up the remains of dinner. When Mommy returned she reached down under the tray and poked at my diaper, feeling it fuller than before she said, "Awe, such a good baby sissy diaper boy, using your diapers just like you should. Now, our you ready for a nap?" I glowered around my pacifier and underneath my bonnet at that. I didn't want to be put to bed so early in the evening, and without cumming. My expression made mommy say though, "oh, that definitely proves that someone needs a nap. Now come on." She undid the tray, and helped me down from the highchair. She led me upstairs to our bedroom and laid me down on top of the bedspread. Mommy then took one of the lengths of ribbon we kept in the nightstand and tied my mittened hands to the headboard with it. She told me to be a good baby and stay put while she was gone for a second. I looked after her confused about what we were doing. I understood what she meant by nap though as she returned to the bedroom, magic wand in hand. Mommy unzipped her dress and pulled it off, revealing the lingerie she had been wearing underneath. She then plugged the magic wand into the outlet and climbed on top of me. She rested her crotch above mine, pressing her lacy panties against the padding of my diaper. She then stuck the magic wand between us, and switched it on. She ground her hips into the magic wand and my diaper, humping and thrusting as she pleasured us. Well, more accurately, she pleasured herself on top of me. The vibrations of the magic wand weer still intense enough to stimulate my dick though, and each time she humped the vibrator on top of me she drove the anal beads against my prostate. Soon we were both on the verge of orgasm. I came as soon as I felt Mommy’s legs squeezing me. She always tightened her legs as she was coming, and that drove the vibrator straight against my cock, the vibrations and pressure sending me over the edge as I released inside of my diaper. She came soon after, shutting the vibrator off and crumbling into a ball next to me. We laid like that for a while, basking in our post-orgasmic glow. Mommy recovered before me. She got up, gave me a kiss and headed into our bathroom. I heard water running, but I was still too out of it from my orgasm to register what exactly she was doing. Five minutes later though she returned, and freed me from both the headboard and the bondage mittens. She gently undressed me, untying my bonnet, peeling the ankle socks off of my feet, unsnapping the crotch snaps and pulling my onesie off over my head. Last she undid the tapes of my diaper and unceremoniously tossed it in the trash. Mommy then took me to the bathroom, where she had prepared a bubble bath for me. I eased into the tub. The bubbles and warmth of the water were absolutely wonderful. Mommy left me to push the mounds of bubbles around for a few minutes by myself. She returned with a baby bottle of cool water. For a while we sat and enjoyed the presence of each other, me sucking on my bottle and playing with the bubbles while she sat on the toilet reading a book on her phone. When I finished my bottle she put her phone down and began bathing me. I relaxed even further and began to feel sleepy under her ministrations. She tenderly massaged my scalp as she shampooed my hair, and rubbed away aches and pains as she lathered my body with a soapy washcloth. I was fighting off yawns while she rinsed me off, and it took all of the willpower I could still muster to keep my eyes open as she wrapped a warm fluffy towel around me to dry me off. When finished, Mommy led me back to our bed where a fresh diaper awaited me. I was powdered again and this diaper was taped tight against me. This time a pair of plastic panties were slid over the diaper. Mommy decided to put me in a new outfit for bed, a frilly purple diaper cover and pink ballerina shirt. The oversized binky was returned to my lips, and Mommy slipped a pair of headphones into my ears playing an audiobook for me while I fell asleep. She then kissed me on the top of my head and headed back to the bathroom to take a shower herself. I was already softly snoring before She reached the bathroom door, reliving this wonderful evening in my dreams. The End.