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Well, here goes nothing. I have posted on ABDL sites before but I don't think my heart was really in those stories. That has changed now, this story is one that I have put plenty of work into and I am finally ready to test it out on a real audience. I have a few chapters ready in the coming weeks but, based on how things go I hope to move to a regular schedule as I have lots of plans! Note regarding grammar, well I am terrible at it. I don't have an editor and rely mainly on re-reads and free web grammar checks so, don't judge me too bad, ha! Hope you Enjoy! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The sound of a flip-flop smacking the bottom of a foot and the ground in an annoying, repetitive beat filled the car as they approached their destination. “Tara, stop that!” her mother spoke sharply. Tara leaned up from the clenched position she was in at the back of the van and pressed her foot down hard to stop the tapping. She had been holding back her bladder for the better part of the trip. The freeway separating Tara’s house from her mother’s best friend was legendary. She had been holding back the two colas she had pounded at lunch and was thankful the end was nearly in sight. “I keep telling you it's not healthy for you to keep doing this to yourself; I thought we were past this.” Diane continued. In her current condition, Tara couldn’t help but agree with her. Ever since she was little, she had issues with bathroom breaks. As a small child, she was potty trained early, but that did not stop her from constantly having accidents. Her mom always said she had her ‘head in the clouds’; she would be so focused on something that nothing else would matter… nothing. As she grew older, Tara continued to have accidents that would go up and down in frequency. When she started school, she earned the unpleasant nickname ‘Tinkle Tara’. Between accidents and a bout with bedwetting when she was 7 and 9 years old, it looked like she was doomed to it. However, for whatever reason, a switch had flipped, and it had been nearly 8 years since ‘Tinkle Tara’ was uttered. On the other hand, in the last few months, Tara has been putting her bathroom training through the ringer. Time after time, she found herself holding her bladder and aching from the effort. Whether it was at the mall, watching a movie, or sitting through classes, the urge to go was becoming more frequent and urgent each time. She had not told her mother that she almost always felt the need to go ‘right now’ whenever she had to pee. It never helped matters that her mother was a health nut and had drilled into her to keep hydrated, so she always was drinking water. It was a habit, but then again, it was only in the last few months that things started to go sideways. Now Tara was also going to be playing ‘big sister/babysitter’ to a 10 year old. Her mother and Brittany’s, had been friends since High School and now work for the same company. Both had been married and are now divorced. With lucrative jobs and a daughter, they were about as close as any family member. So when they both were chosen to go overseas to be in charge of operations in a new business move for the company, they quickly decided the plan. As Tara was 18, she would watch and take care of Britteny until the two mothers got back, which would be around the beginning of the summer. “Now remember, you have to be in charge of Brittany and keep up with your school work. Those are the two most important things,” her mother said, for about the hundredth time. “Mom, I know. I have hung out with Brittany plenty of times before,” Tara countered. “Not for this long and with this many responsibilities. Plus, Cathrine has… Well something else that you are going to have to keep track of,” her mom finished. “Oh?” the girl raised her eyebrow. “She will tell you,” her mother said giving her a look that said, this is serious. As the van pulled into the garage of Cathrine and Brittany’s home, Tara shot like a bullet out the door into the house. Catherine was blurred as she shot for the bathroom in the room she usually stayed in on the second floor. Scrambling through the door, the sight of the bathroom made Tara relax. “No!” she gasped, hurriedly tired to get the button on her shorts undone. She had relaxed too early, and now things were out of control. Finally sitting on the seat, a sharp but blissful relief crept over her. She had not realized how much and how painful this time had been. Tara knew that she should stop doing this but, for now, inspected the damage to her shorts. The whole crotch of the garment was a darker shade of blue and was a lost cause. Luckily, she had one other pair close to these that she could grab from her bag and slip into. This was only the third time this had happened, but it certainly was not something she enjoyed. Slipping into fresh clothes, she made her way back down to the living room to ‘officially’ greet Cathrine and Brittany. “Whew, sorry about that,” she greeted Catherine. “It’s alright, pretty on par for you, ha!” Cathrine jested, then her voice went low,“Follow me to the kitchen.” Her mother was talking with Brittany, and the girl was looking like she did not have much to say, so she followed Catherine. “So there is something that I have been keeping from you; I just told her mother last night,” she let out with a long breath. “Oh no, is something wrong?” Tara blurted out. “No, no, nothing serious, but… Brittany has been having some troubles. Bathroom troubles,” she responded flatly. A heat rose in Tara’s cheeks, and she simply said, “Oh…” “Now I know that you had your own issues, but I recently saw a book about accidents among older children and teenagers. I have Brittany following some rules that are designed to help her get through this phase.” Cathrine explained as she put a hardcover book on the counter. “The front of the book explains how the rules work - the ins and outs as they were. And in the back there is the list of rules and a little chart if you need it,” she went on. Tara picked up the book, and before she could utter a word, Cathrine continued, “You obviously don’t have to read it, and Brittany knows the first two rules by heart now, but you should read them and she has to follow them. Supplies are in the upstairs hall closet.” “Supplies?” the girl questioned. “Well, in a nutshell, Brittany has to use protection whenever she has accidents. The more accidents, the more protection, and the more…eh… privileges she loses.” the older woman explained. “Ah, well, I guess that makes sense.” Tara concluded. She couldn’t believe it, Brittany was in diapers! It was a shock only because there had never been a hint to her that her little friend may have had such troubles. Well, Tara herself was smaller, but not terribly so, but she was still taller by a couple of inches. Brittany had a heart shaped face, round blue eyes, and shorter brunette hair, while Tara had sandy blonde hair past her shoulders, brown eyes, and a longer face. Both had followed their mother’s genes, like matched sets. “Cathrine, we need to get to the airport,” her own mother called out. “Oh yes, coming!” she replied, and then to Tara, “Just read the rules and make sure Brittany follows them, simple as it gets!” With that, she hugged Tara and made her way to the living room, where her daughter and Tara’s mother were. There were the usual tearful goodbyes, as the realization of how long it would be before they were all together again sunk in. All too soon, it was just Tara and Brittany watching TV in silence as the girls both recovered from the painful departure. Tara ordered pizza as a way of cheering them both up, and by the time the large pizza and sodas had been consumed, it was close to bedtime. She, Tara, knew it was time to broach the subject. She decided to do so in a manner that showed she trusted Brittany to know what she had to do. “Well, I guess it is time for bed, Brit,” she stated. Brittany yawned. “Yeah, I guess so.” The girl got up from the couch and made her way to the stairs. “Wait, Brittany!” she called to stop the girl. “Is there something we need to talk about? Some rules?” The younger girl froze, and she stiffened as she turned to face Tara, so she went on the offensive. “Before you say anything, it's alright. I had problems when I was around your age,” she tried to soothe Brittany. “I don’t want to follow the rules without mom,” she almost spat back at Tara. “Look, this will go smoothly if we just follow what your mom wants you to do.” Tara countered. “But… it's just… It's so embarrassing, and I want to just be normal.” Brittany pleaded, “Please don't make me do them.” It nearly broke Tara’s heart to see Brittany clinging onto a small hope that she would be out of whatever she had been enduring. “What exactly are the rules you are supposed to follow, i haven't read them yet because I want you to tell me,” Tara said. “Well, umm… you… There are five rules, and if you have any, you know. Then you start at 1 and go from there.” Brittany mumbled. “I see, and what rule are you on now?” She questioned further. “1B,” Brittany said out of the side of her mouth. “1B?” “Yeah, the first rule has three parts… some kind of like grace period before the rest of the rules, I guess.” Brittany had crossed her arms and had not looked at Tara since she started talking about the rules. “How far have you gone down the list?” Tara asked with complete curiosity. “Just two, but it was awful.” Brittany huffed. Tara was in a bind; she didn’t want to fight Brittany for weeks on end. And she didn’t want to have to deal with Brittany having accidents she could prevent. But most of all, she did want to have fun with Brittany; she really was like a little sister. The girl shouldn’t have to feel alone in this… then it hit her. It was drastic, but it just might work. “Alright, let's look at 1B,” Tara announced. Going into the kitchen, she opened the back of the book and found the page with 1A at the top. She read out, “1A - a single day-time accident will result in a pull-up for 1 day and night.” Turning the page, she also read, “1B - a single night-time accident will result in regular pull-ups for 2 days & night-time pull-ups for 2 nights.” Brittany was bright red but Tara talked fast to ease the embarrassment. “So you…” “The night before last, this is my second night. Mom let me go without during the day today because she was leaving,” the girl clarified. “Good, then we will both follow the rules going forward.” Tara stated. “Both?” Brittany asked. “Both,” she replied. “What good is that? It's still just me that will have to do any of it!” Brittany screeched. “Hold on. Did you see me dash upstairs when I got here?” Tara asked, and the girl nodded. “Well, I didn't quite make it, and my shorts got a bit wet. So I guess that puts me on 1A, right?” she said, matter of fact. “You're lying,” Brittany huffed, but Tara was prepared for this. A quick trip to her room and her shorts from earlier presented to Brittany were all the evidence she needed. “Whoa!” Brittany exclaimed. “Told you, so we will both be in pull-ups tonight. Your mom gave you a break, so we will just go with the pull-ups tonight. And if we are both dry in the morning, this all resets, right?” She asked cheerily. “Yeah, but… but… “ Brittany couldn’t come up with an argument. “Now come on, we are still about the same size; let's see if they fit and we can get off to bed.” Tara led the dumbstruck girl up the stairs and to the closet. It was packed with white boxes, each labeled in the upper corner. The shelf at chest height had two opened boxes, one of the left read ‘Slims’. Thinking these must be the pull-ups she grabbed two, and handed one to Brittany. “Let’s both get pjs on, i will come to your room in about 10 minutes.” Tara said as she closed her door behind her. Throwing the pull-up on the bed, it suddenly hit Tara what she was about to do. It had been so long since she had worn something like that she almost felt as if it stared back at her. As if this meant more than just a means to an end. Shaking her head, she inspected the pull-up; it wasn’t any of the major brands she knew. In fact, it only had an “R” in the center of the waistband to indicate a brand. The sides were just a bit longer than the width of her hand and the padding looked fairly thin, but then it was just a pull-up. Changing into a tank top with thin shoulder straps, she placed her usual PJ pants next to the pull up on the bed. Stepping into the pull-up she began to doubt that she would fit, yet as she dragged it up to her waist, it never seemed to tighten. Standing there, 18 years old, and in a pull-up, it may as well have been fitted for her. It clung to her a bit but didn’t feel tight, and she felt the leg holes conform around her leg just below her butt, a perfect fit. She walked around and noted the extra padding and the overall ‘bulk’ she was not accustomed to as she moved. Satisfied, she pulled her PJs over the pull-up and went to see Brittany. Knocking on the door, the girl called out that she was ready. Tara was momentarily taken aback as Brittany had some small shorts and the diaper spilled out of the top and the sides. “All set?” she asked. “Yeah… I guess,” but Brittany kept glancing at Tara's PJs. Pulling the band of her pants down a bit, Tara showed the top of the pull and said, “Fitted just fine.” Tara began to giggle, and a smile reached Brittany's face as well. Soon they were laughing hard at the situation, and the tension was broken between them. “Night, Brit, see in the morning.” Tara chuckled out. “Night, Tara” was the reply as the younger girl got into bed. Back in her own room, Tara turned off the lights and got under the streets, exhausted. However, she almost immediately realized why Brittany’s shorts were so small. Being under covers, in pants, and in a pull-up was not the most comfortable thing. But tiredness eventually overtook Tara, and she drifted off.

I dont know if others have this fetish but for years Ive had a fetish for seeing other people have public wetting accidents or incidents. I remember once when waiting in a slow line to get into a heavy metal bar in the 1980s witnessing a very attractive young woman wet herself. And I recall a mate who got very drunk when we were drinking at a dive bar one evening who started to fall asleep at the table and then wet himself like a waterfall onto the floor below. It got us kicked out of the bar. Ive witnessed a few such incidents over the years and store them in my memory where my recollections of these incidents is very clear.

Hey everyone! While I haven't given up on my current stories, I had to return to work since my side gigs haven't been paying the bills. For this reason, I have been less productive on my stories. I will return to those stories in due time. But as for the good news, I have began writing a new passion project that I would like to add to the "shoes" genre of age regression stories. If any of you have read Olympiczero's The Ballet Slippers (I DEFINITELY recommend this one!), this story intends to use a different form of footwear with a different setting and different characters. I know that I wanted more after reading The Ballet Slippers so I decided to "run" with this concept and create a new tale in the "shoe" genre. I will be posting a new chapter every few days so I am welcome to all of your feedback! I know that I have a good setting but there are some other things that I want to fine tune with the story. I definitely know where I want to go with it later on, and you'll see when we get there. But without further ado, here's the story! NOTE TO THE READER: This story is inspired from Olympiczero's "The Ballet Slippers". This story is to be treated as a tribute, and my own unique spin on the original classic. Enjoy the story! Prologue Darcy glanced at her phone, carefully examining the map on the Maps app. The map displayed a wide grid of roads all intersecting each other. The blue dot indicated her current position on the map and that she successfully reached the destination. Sonya’s Shoe Shop. “Could this be the place?” Darcy wondered. Darcy got out of her red Toyota 4Runner and glanced around as she took in her surroundings. A large grouping of businesses were all around her on the narrow street where she parallel parked. This part of town seemed vacant and almost had an eerie feeling about it. Darcy could feel it in the warm California breeze. Sure, it was northern California, but she was away from the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles and on the very northern edge of San Francisco. Despite all this, she still felt something unsettling in her gut as she frantically glanced at the various businesses, trying to find this famed shoe store. From what the Maps app told her, Sonya’s Shoe Shop had over 3,000 reviews with an average 4.7 out of 5-star rating. It was one of the highest rated shoe stores in the Bay Area, and she could only settle on the best when it came to getting an extra special gift for her now adult daughter. But no matter where Darcy glanced around, she couldn’t find the shoe store. Could it have gone out of business recently? How could such a successful business exist and not have any prominent signage? Darcy was about to give up and enter the address again when she felt something inside of her. Some kind of strange energy was coming from one of the buildings, and she just couldn’t figure out which one. She just walked onto the sidewalk and walked forward, feeling the energy getting stronger. It was like a giant magnet, pulling Darcy forward. Then she saw it right ahead of her. A small humble sign that read SONYA’S SHOE SHOP. This was the place. The strange and surreal energy was coming right from this place. Darcy knew what she was looking for. She pulled a slip of paper out of her purse and entered the store. The bells jingled as she entered the store, Darcy making her entrance. A kind Hispanic woman who was just a little shorter than Darcy approached the counter. “Welcome to Sonya’s Shoe Shop.” The woman warmly spoke as she made her introduction. “I am Sonya Martinez, sole proprietor of this wonderful store. In my store, I have shoes for every size specifically tailored to running. How may I help you, young lady?” Darcy couldn’t help but smile to herself. Although she was in her late forties, a lot of people were convinced that she looked 15 years younger. Darcy attributed this to good exercise and good dieting. She didn’t even feel like she was approaching fifty. In fact, she still felt like she was in her prime. She knew that the woman was trying to be polite, but this Sonya really had no business in knowing her true age. All she was here for was to get a very special pair of shoes for her daughter, and that was just what she was going to get. And she wouldn’t take no for an answer. “Hi!” Darcy said, feeling a little unsure of herself. It wasn’t that she lacked confidence in talking to the woman but that she was afraid that this wonderful shoe store that Sonya was boasting about would not have the specific pair of shoes that her daughter wanted to have. She got out her list and began to read it out loud, from top to bottom. “I came to your shoe store because the reviews said that you were the very best running shoe store in the Bay Area.” Sonya nodded and gave Darcy a look of humility. “I try my best. Really, it’s about trying to satisfy the needs of every customer. Shoemaking has been in my family for generations and I aim to please. What are you looking for? How can I help you today?” Darcy felt warm inside, as that last question really pierced her soul. “How can I be helped?” Darcy asked herself, feeling a sense of gratitude as the question continued to ring in her ear. She looked back at her list. “My daughter is an avid runner, and she has been running since she was a little girl. She’s ran in the Junior Trail Blazers and cross country from middle school to high school. She’s completed countless 5K’s, 10K’s, and completed five marathons. So I need a very special pair of running shoes for Charlotte. They need to have a few carbon plates, a moderate length of lugs, and a gaiter attachment. Oh, and the stack height needs to be ideal. And the rocker needs to be good to give her plenty of endurance. And make sure there’s a good sockliner to wick a lot of the sweat away. The toe box needs to be the perfect width with a well-designed toe cap and toe spring. And…Can I just give you the whole list? There’s a lot more details listed here. Every single one needs to be in the pair of shoes.” Sonya nodded and took the list from Darcy. She spent the next couple of minutes studying the various details that Darcy requested for her daughter’s running shoes, giving occasional nods as she studied the list. “I see. I know how important a good running shoe is. Miss…” She paused as she cast an awkward gaze on her new customer, hoping that she would offer her last name to her. “Warren.” Darcy answered quickly. “Darcy Warren.” “Miss Warren,” Sonya nodded, satisfied that she got the name of her new customer. “Getting to your point, I know the importance of good running shoes. I not only design shoes, but I’m an avid runner myself. I’ve completed 15 marathons and three triathlons, dear. I know that participating in these events require a very special shoe. Now, I don’t really have anything out here that would satisfy your requirements, but…” she gave Darcy a hopeful smile as she raised her index finger. “I think that I might have something in the back. I will be right back, Miss Warren.” Darcy felt like she had one more thing to add that was on the tip of her tongue. So, she went right out with it. “Sonya, Char has also completed one triathlon.” Sonya turned back and nodded. “Excellent. Your daughter needs a good shoe then. I will be right back.” Sonya walked through the aisles that had various shoes all sorted in different sections. There were tennis shoes, and every kind of running shoe imaginable. Shoes made for running through wooded trails and shoes made for running down the rough pavement of roads. The latter shoes were ideal for training for races and even the Olympics. In all of her years of having the shoe store open, she has even sold a few pairs to a few Olympians who were in Track and Field for the US Olympic Team. She finally got to the back door, which led down to the basement. The musty smell filled her nostrils as she walked down the creeky stairs, leading down to a storeroom. The rays from the sun danced from the window above, splashing down onto a chair that was by a workstation. Near the desk of the workstation were a few rows of shelves each stacked high with different bins and shoe boxes. Sonya lifted up a bin where she thought that she would be able to find the pair of shoes that Darcy was looking for. All she found in the bin was raw material to make new shoes. Sheets of polyester and nylon mesh all rolled into neat tubes and stacked within the bin. There were even two shoes that were tailor made for a customer who decided to cancel their order at the last minute. Both shoes were buried in the polyester and nylon like a permanent grave. Sonya glanced at a few order slips on her desk, each one from a customer that requested a custom order that could not be found in the store. She glanced at the list that Darcy gave her and read it. Carbon plates. Lugs that were not too short or too long. A gaiter attachment. An ideal stack height. A good rocker for plenty of endurance and a good sockliner to handle the moisture. A wide enough toe box. A well-designed toe cap and toe spring. She thought that she knew of a pair of shoes that would match the description that Darcy gave her. But she was wrong. She had no such shoe to produce for the woman. If this were a race, she would be just short of the finish line. It pained Sonya to not be able to provide a solution to what her customer needed. But being a runner, Sonya was not about to quit. She walked over to her workstation and tore off a new order slip. “I’ll design a new pair of running shoes that would match Miss Warren’s description,” she told herself as she began to write all the details on the form, including Miss Warren’s name and what she wanted. In the middle of Sonya filling out the form, she felt a strong energy in the room. Sonya did not know why she was doing this, but the energy made her stand up. The energy flowed into her and sent a shiver down her spine. As much as she wanted to keep filling out the form and returning to Miss Warren, she found her legs moving towards a set of shelves. She felt more and more out of control with each step she made towards the shelves. It was like someone else was controlling her every movement. When Sonya was finally between the two shelves, she wanted to move her legs forward, but she found herself unable to move. Her feet felt glued to the floor beneath her. The only thing she could do was kneel, lower and lower. She kneeled down until she reached the bottom shelf, where there was a white bin that was somehow unlabeled. This confused and frightened Sonya as she usually labels every one of her bins. She grabbed the bin and found herself moving back to the workstation like she was on autopilot. She glanced at the bin, looking perplexed. She couldn’t ever remember even having this bin anywhere in her store, which made the contents all the more mysterious. She opened the bin to find a blue sports tank top with black athletic shorts. Along with this ensemble was a shoe box. The shoe box had two letters boldly labeled in a designer font. The fancy letters read “B.V.” She lifted up the lid of the shoe box to find a pair of women’s running shoes. The shoes were white as snow, with thick pink curves marking the design around the quarter in wide arcs. The pink stitching encircled the boundary of the vamp and also marked the boundary of the quarter. Each of the eyelets of the shoe shared the same pink color, and the shoes were all laced with white laces, each shoe already neatly tied in a bow. She examined the shoes in the box for a closer look, noticing all the details were perfectly on point with Miss Warren’s written description of what she wanted. She saw the carbon plates running around the contours of the midsole of the shoe. The distribution of the lugs, she saw, were just right. They ran evenly beneath the outsole of the shoe. The gaiter attachment sat beneath the pull tab that rested on the heel. The stack height looked right. Both the outsole and midsole were perfectly curved, so the rocker was there. The sockliner curved all the way up from the tongue to the heel counter. The toe box looked wide enough, and the toe cap and toe spring were smooth to the touch. A perfect blend of polyester and nylon. Sonya was simply beyond words. These shoes were perfect. Exactly what Darcy was looking for. What were the odds of her finding something that matched her specific description perfectly? She marveled at the craftsmanship of the pair of shoes, knowing the amount of work and detail needed to make them. This, she knew, was a custom order. And shoes like this could not be mass produced. She folded the tongue of one of the shoes up with both her hands to inspect the size of the shoe. A small “7” was neatly printed on the white tongue tag of the shoe. Size 7. “These should be the right size,” Sonya thought. As Sonya picked up the shoes, a weird energy began to flow into her. She was now no longer in her shoe store but was running down a city street, like she was in a marathon. Thousands of onlookers cheered her on as she passed numerous marathon runners effortlessly. After that, she was running in another city. Boston. New York. Los Angeles. Chicago. Paris. London. It was like the shoes were showing her every leg of the past wearer’s journey. Then she saw junior track meets. Cross country running at middle school. At high school. Running on various trails. Organized running where she had a vision of running past a group of children. Sonya tried to find the shoe store where she was at, but she was lost in a dark void. All her eyes could perceive now was darkness, before the darkness vanished, reverting back into a blurry version of the storeroom where she was, until the blurriness went away in a couple of minutes. She was still holding the shoes and now had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. “Maybe I shouldn’t give her the shoes,” Sonya thought. “Yes. I’ll suggest to her an alternative. I will not let her buy these shoes.” Sonya put the shoe back in the box with its twin and placed the lid back on it. She wanted to place the box back in the bin and place the bin where it belonged, but her hands couldn’t move. She felt it as she held the box. A warmth filled her that she couldn’t explain. She couldn’t even walk back to where she found the bin. Her feet were both glued to the floor. Then, she strained, trying to move both feet with all of her might. Finally, her two feet began to move. But each foot that hit the floor felt like a deadweight. And to her horror, she was not moving towards where she found the shoes, but towards the stairs, holding the shoe box in her hands. Each additional step felt heavier and heavier. “What am I doing?” Sonya thought. She was confused, unable to explain the strange magic that was moving her forward. She was now moving faster, her gait increasing ever closer towards the stairs. But her movements were not her own. She felt like a marionette, with someone else pulling the strings. Meanwhile, Darcy was still waiting at the counter for Sonya to return. It must have been at least 20 minutes since she left to look for the shoes. Darcy glanced at the time display on her cellphone, a pitch-black screen with white numbers displaying the time. She was wrong. It has now been almost 30 minutes since Sonya left to complete her kind errand for her. And this errand, she knew, was important. Considering the amount of running that her daughter did, she needed the best shoes that she could find. Darcy nervously twirled her fingers through her jet-black hair. Considering that there were no customers in the store, she felt safe, happily indulging in her nervous stim. Her hands then shifted to her orange sundress, where she began to play with the hem of her dress, pinching her two fingers over the hem, rubbing the pinched fabric against her fingers in repeated motions, pinching her two fingers with the fabric up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Darcy was self-aware of these stims and fidgets and only partook of them privately to relieve her anxiety and stress. And the anxiety continued to well up inside of her as she ruminated over the root cause of it. It was…her daughter. The one thing that held her together and gave her both meaning and purpose. And that one thing that she cherished so much was now mostly absent in her life. Her dear sweet daughter Charlotte. Darcy knew that she had to let her go. Charlotte was an adult now and would be turning 30 in November. But the sadness and loneliness both ate away at her heart like a cancer. She let out a soft sigh, her heavy heart filled with the fond memories that she spent with her. Sure, Charlotte was coming home to visit for 17 days. But that brief amount of time would hardly quench Darcy’s lingering loneliness that she had for her dear daughter. A girl that she was totally proud of. Charlotte was able to amaze Darcy in so many ways. From the day that she showed a young Charlotte her modeling photos of her wearing beautiful dresses, Charlotte wanted her to “take pictures of her in pitty dwesses”. Darcy wasted no time in contacting a child modeling agency and young Charlotte was a natural at it. She appeared in toddler children’s clothing catalogs and even secured a deal to appear in a few diaper commercials. Charlotte potty trained late so Darcy was able to utilize this to her advantage. Her petite size and ideal age made her the perfect choice for these commercials. And most of the commercial shoots were done in one or two takes. The other things that amazed Darcy was what Charlotte did later on. Enrolling her in Langford became the obvious choice, as she wanted to utilize her daughter’s modeling talent to its full potential. And because Charlotte always ran, she was enrolled in all manner of running programs from toddlerhood to adulthood. Charlotte ran in 1K’s when she was very little. And as she got older, the 1K’s became 2K’s. Then 5K’s and 10K’s. Then half marathons. And finally, when Charlotte was an adult, she was now running marathons. And with the most recent marathon that Charlotte ran on St. Patrick’s Day in Los Angeles, she finished it in her best place yet. She came in 50th with a time of 2:43:29 out of more than 25,000 participants. The pace for her miles were around 6 minutes and 14 seconds. Darcy felt bad that she didn’t get her daughter a gift to celebrate her greatest accomplishment in long-distance running. With it being now almost five months since the race, this would be a wonderful gift for Charlotte and a great help to her as she trains for the Labor Day Marathon that would be taking place at the end of August in San Francisco. And besides the marathon, Darcy was impressed with how well her daughter can juggle her running with her highly demanding work schedule. In the more recent years, Charlotte has become very popular in the modeling industry, now starting to earn more than even the top models. This made Darcy very proud of Charlotte, as she was now able to finally buy her “Barbie Dream House”: a cozy mansion in Beverly Hills. Darcy has been to her daughter’s new house last year and was greatly impressed. It looked more like a palace than a house, with numerous bedrooms and countless bathrooms. A private movie theater, an indoor and outdoor pool, a private gym with a state-of-the-art treadmill, a 20-car garage, and even private living quarters for the maids and other staff. The house that she lived in near Langford paled in comparison to her daughter’s Barbie Mansion. It was everything that she wanted, so Darcy reasoned that if Charlotte was happy, she too would be happy for her daughter’s success. After all, the tuition that Darcy paid to enroll Charlotte in Langford was well worth the sacrifice. Her numerous and sporadic gigs in modeling and acting paid the bills and got her a modest house that was not too far from Langford. Like any college debt, Darcy was sacked with the bills from Langford after Charlotte graduated. “And forget college!” Darcy sighed to herself with a morose face as she thought of the bills. “Langford was a high school!” And since Charlotte also attended grades 5 through 8 through Langford middle school, this poured salt on the wound and doubled Darcy’s debt. But three years ago, Charlotte surprised her mother in giving her a check to pay off the Langford tuition as a Christmas gift. But this was not all. She received an additional $50,000 from her daughter and was told to use it, as Charlotte said, “On a shopping spree”. But Darcy only spent half the money and saved the rest. Darcy then glanced at her phone again to find that another 10 minutes has gone by. It has now been 40 minutes since Sonya politely dismissed herself to try and find the perfect shoes that was per Darcy’s description on the slip of paper. At this point, it seemed like she was on some hopeless quest to find the hidden treasure. Her tardiness began to frustrate Darcy, as she began to tap the heels of her black pumps against the hardwood floor of the store. Each additional minute further fueled the frustration and growing defeat that was beginning to erupt inside of her. Finally, Darcy heard the sound of the door screeching open. A great feeling of ecstasy and relief came over Darcy as she saw Sonya holding a shoe box in both hands. “Could these be it?” she asked herself. “Are these the special shoes that will make my dear Charlotte happy?” Sonya plopped the shoe box on the counter and then produced a dutiful smile. “Sorry about the delay, Miss Warren. Special shoes can sometimes take a while to find.” Sonya figured that this lie would be enough to satisfy Darcy, as she was not about to tell her about her troubling experience with the mysterious magic that came from the shoe box. The strange and surreal magic that somehow altered her reality, forcing her to see strange visions and immobilizing her. It was like she was afforded a glimpse of the memories that the past owner of the shoes had. “Was selling the shoes to Miss Warren a good idea?” she wondered. Her subconscious was now beginning to scream at the top of its lungs. “Don’t sell her the shoes!” it screamed. But Sonya felt a warm energy from the shoe box that calmed her. It silenced her subconscious completely, extinguishing every last one of the fragments of the subconscious voice that was inside of her. Suddenly, a thought began to enter her mind. A thought that made her happy. Everything was going to be alright. “I need to sell her the shoes,” she told herself, as making each customer happy has always been the goal for her shoe business. And nothing else mattered. Darcy smiled as she presented her credit card to Sonya. She was very happy about the purchase that she was about to make, as she knew that these shoes were about to make Charlotte happy. Or so she hoped. A wadge of doubt began to invade her mind like an unwanted intruder. “What if Charlotte doesn’t like the shoes?” she wondered, casting a doubtful stare on Sonya. She now felt that she needed to ask Sonya a few questions to ensure that she was making the right purchase. “My Char is a size 7,” she anxiously gulped. “Is that the right size?” Sonya grabbed Darcy’s credit card and gave her a complete nod of confidence. “The shoe is a size 7,” she told her. “So it should fit your daughter’s feet well. Trust me. I’ve worked with shoes for a long time.” She glanced at Darcy, as if she wanted to say something else. “Ah yes! Those running shoes! The one who had them before…she was a very good runner. Her name was…………She was…….Well, I can’t think of her name.” At this moment, Sonya couldn’t help but feel awkward. Did she really know the one that used to own these shoes? Just recently, she didn’t even know that the shoes existed, and now they looked eerily familiar… She pursed her lips and maintained her positive demeanor, softly uttering another truth to further seal the deal. “And, Miss Warren, don’t forget. I’m an avid runner like your daughter. That is why I started this business, dear. Now are you going to trust a fellow runner like me?” This last question convinced Darcy, making her feel a lot better as she watched Sonya scan the credit card on the point-of-sale credit card terminal. A soft tap on the screen from Sonya reminded her to sign her signature before the transaction could be completed. Darcy, feeling more confident, signed her first and last name in cursive (DARCY M. WARREN) before receiving the printed receipt from Sonya and an accomplished smile from her. “I hope your daughter enjoys those shoes,” Sonya said, very happy to have another satisfied customer. “Feel free to come back and return the shoes if they don’t fit. And please leave a review. It helps my business to stand out from all the others in the Bay Area.” Darcy nodded as she began to pick up the shoe box. “Sure thing! Thank you very much, Sonya. My Char is going to LOVE these shoes!” But as Darcy was walking out of the store with the shoe box, her entire body was jolted with a feeling of warmth, which she guessed was coming from the shoe box. The warm feeling began at her toes and ran all the way up her legs and into her heart. This sent Darcy into a panic. “What is this that I’m feeling?” she said to herself, now casting a curious glance on the shoe box. “I don’t know if she’s going to like these shoes. What if she hates them? These shoes were not cheap.” Darcy sighed, knowing the very idea of her daughter rejecting the shoes that she bought for her would make her what she believed to be a failure as a parent. After all, a wide chasm has formed between herself and Charlotte. Since the beginning of Charlotte’s adulthood, both her and Charlotte have grown more and more apart. And Darcy has done everything to try and fix this inevitable separation between herself and Charlotte. And nothing has worked so far. She has scheduled time to support her at her fashion shows. She has checked in with her weekly to find out how she’s doing. She has even visited her at her new Barbie Mansion! And yes. She has attended her 5K’s and her marathon’s, rooting for her at the finish line. But every one of these attempts have proven hollow in her desperation to rekindle her relationship with her only daughter and only child. But as she was approaching the trunk with the box, she felt the warmth again. It filled her entire body from head to toe. Gone were the worries about whether or not her daughter would like the shoes. Gone were the concerns regarding the strange feeling that went through her when she first picked up the shoe box. None of that even mattered anymore. It was like every lingering concern that she had melted before her very eyes. What remained was finding a nice tube of wrapping paper to wrap the gift in. With Charlotte almost at her home, time was running out. But even this heightened level of urgency had no effect on Darcy. Even though the shoe box was not in her hands, she could still feel the warmth in her heart. It felt…good. And giving Charlotte the gift just felt right. And even if Darcy knew that Charlotte was only a half hour away from her arrival, that didn’t even matter to her anymore. Nothing else mattered. All that mattered to Darcy was that Charlotte was about to receive the gift that she always wanted. A completely perfect pair of running shoes.

I'm new to all this, but here's a story that actually is based on another story that I read. It stuck in my mind, and I started to develop the story further in my head, coming to the point where I hade to start writing things down. A huge thanks to the author of the original Swedish story "Ella och Mormor". I sincerely hope that it's okej for me to take off where you started! As I'm not a native speaker in English, so there might be a few misspelled words and confused sentence construction - but I hope it's readable anyway. All comments and suggestions are welcome. ___ Part 1 - An unexpected welcome Ella woke early to the sun streaming through her window and past the curtains. Waking up with the sun in her eyes wasn't exactly her favourite thing, but it looked like it was going to be a really nice and sunny summers day, so it was still hard to get annoyed. The fact that she woke up so early didn't matter much either, because today she was going to visit her grandmother, and if you didn't want to arrive too late, you'd have to leave quite early. Ella and her grandmother had a bit of a tradition going, that went back as far as Ella could remember - her going to Grandma's for a few weeks during the summer holidays. Even though it was now two or three years since the last time it happened, it could still be considered a bit of a tradition. Couldn't it? She had packed everything she could possibly need for a few summery weeks away from home. In the bag were shorts, tank tops, thicker sweaters for the evening, bikinis, jeans, panties and bras as well as a lot of other things you might need in the form of toiletry bags, chargers etc etc. The last thing she packed was her old pyjamas. Although the pajamas were a bit worn and far too childish for her age, it was still tradition for her to have them at grandma's. She had received the pajamas as a birthday present quite a few years ago, and already in those days it might have been a little too childish for her, with cute flowers on the pants and with the matching pink tank top. But thanks to the fact that Ella was quite slim, the pyjamas still fit just fine, even though she had become a bit more developed around the bum and breasts in recent years. It was just a little tighter, and the legs were maybe a bit short. As everything she'd seen indicated that it would become a hot day, and traveling by bus require quite comfortable clothes, Ella put on a pair of denim shorts and a black tight top. With her new sandals on her feet, she hugged her parents goodbye, picked up her bag and walked away with tense anticipation down towards the bus that would take her the first bit of the journey to grandma's. Grandma lived in a big house by the sea, with only a few old summer cottages nearby. It was maybe a twenty minute drive to the nearest supermarket and another twenty to the nearest town. There, in the house by the sea, Ella had played with the other children of the summer guests, bathed and cycled a few weeks a year, for as long as she could remember. The dust from the dirt road and the smell of juice and grandma's cinnamon buns were in her memory mixed with doing puzzles and playing cards in front of the fireplace, on rainy days. The journey to Grandma's is quite long and requires at least two changes of busses. First from her own local bus down at the bus terminal to a long-distance bus across the country, and then again to a smaller local bus which, for the last hour, has slowly been making its way out to the coast and Grandma's. She is practically alone on the last bus, which meanders through the farms and milk pallets of the coastal landscape. Ella, who is a bit of a dreamer, has let her mind wander off to all the summers she's travelled this road to the coast. She fondly remembers all the weeks spent in the big house by the sea. How grandma usually really spoils her with good food and warm care. She is really looking forward to this. When the bus finally stops at her destination and it's time to get off, the clock has already begun to approach dinner time. Grandmother stands at the bus stop waiting and happily greets her grandchild with a big hug. -Hey Ella, how nice to see you again and how big you've become, grandma laughs happily. Did the bus trip go well? -Hey grandma! Yes, it did, but it's a bit boring on such a long bus ride! - Well, luckily then, that you won't have to get back on it for a few weeks! laughs grandma. She takes Ella's bag in one hand and takes Ella herself in an arm hook with the other. They chat as they walk the old gravel road between the fields up towards grandma's house. Grandma pointing out which cottages are rented out and when the various summer guests are expected to arrive. - So there might be one or two other children to play with, Grandma winks. -Play? laughs Ella. It had been a while since I played with the other children around here. But maybe there is someone to go swimming or sunbathing with? The house is big and red with white knots, and the garden looks almost exactly as Ella remembers it. The hammock and the lilac arbor. The flagpole. The old guesthouse. Everything is where it should be, and nothing seems to have changed in the years since she was last here. The hum of the bumblebees from the lilacs is almost hypnotic. The garden opens up down towards the sea, which is only about hundred meters away, but is otherwise surrounded by a hedge towards the road and the forest on the other last side. Grandma is leading the way up the stairs to the front porch and opens the door with a creak. When they enter, she immediately carries Ella's bag into the guest room, and sets it up on the stool by the wall and opens it. Ella remains standing on the glass porch and admires the view out towards the sea, and only in the corner of her eye sences how grandma starts unpacking Ella's things and, as usual, sorts them into the second drawer in the large chest of drawers. Ella wakes up from her reverie and takes off her sandals, which she places in the shoe rack in the hall. - It's just as well to change into your nightwear right now, isn't it, Ella, darling?, grandmother shouts out towards the hall. -Traditions are meant to be kept, she also adds with a small laugh. Ella comes in and accepts the pajamas that Grandma offers her and starts unbuttoning the shorts while Grandma goes out and starts rummaging through one of the closets in the hall. Ella glances a little tensely out towards the hall and listens. It thumps a bit like cupboards and drawers being opened and closed, and then there's a bit of just about too familiar rustling. Traditions are meant to be kept, Ella quotes in her head, while there is a churning feeling in her stomach. She knows exactly what that means. There is one more tradition, which has not yet been mentioned, and it is a little more unusual. Every time Ella has been sleeping over at grandma's, grandma put her in a diaper from the first night on. It is a tradition that Ella has never questioned and which has only continued year after year. At first it was of course because Ella peed the bed and needed it, but unlike at home, she was allowed to wear a diaper all day at grandma's. When she later stopped wetting the bed and thus also stopped wearing diapers at night at home, it only continued at grandma's. Diaper from when first you arrived, and then in the morning if the diaper was dry it was left on, or if it was wet it was changed. The diaper had been wet in the morning on more that one occasion. As recently as three years ago, the "tradition" was still the same. But this time, however, Ella had thought that even grandma would have forgotten about it, or finally realized that she had grown far too big for diapers, and that she wouldn't have to wear them. Ella's musings are interrupted, however, by Grandma coming back into the room and as expected she has a few diapers in one hand and an empty diaper package, which says Luvs and a big number six, in the other. - There weren't many left in the package, Ella, darling. But there's still enough for one now, and then we'll see if we have to change to a new one for the night or tomorrow morning. So, we'll have to make sure to buy new diapers right away tomorrow. -But grandma..., begins Ella in her sweetest tone. Don't you think I'm a little bit to old for that? I mean, at home I haven't had to wear a diaper in years - not even at night - and I don't think I need to here either. - What are you saying?, Grandma laughs. Shall we break the tradition that we've had since you were little? -Yes, so..., Ella tries. -Out of the question! interrupts Grandma. It is the tradition that you are my sweet little granddaughter that I get to spoil when you are here with me, and I don't intend to break that tradition! Stop fooling around now and lie down on the bed and you'll see that you'll feel much better once we get the diaper properly on you. Ella realizes that the race is over. Since she's basically never protested before, it's hardly going to help now. She knows exactly how this will go, because she's been through it so many times before. It's actually rather silly, and almost laughable, she thinks. But at the same time, it's not that much of an issue, but rather a fairly harmless game between her and granny. Plus, it's a bit cozy to be pampered - pun intended. A tingling sensation of tension begins to sprout in her stomach. Ella unbuttons her shorts and lies back on the bed, with her knees up and her feet right on the edge of the bed, as she always used to do. Grandma slowly helps her off with the shorts and panties, folds the shorts and puts them in the suitcase. - I throw these panties in the washer, she says and smiles at Ella. It's not like you'll be using that many panties during these weeks, anyway. Then everything goes by the usual routine. A routine which in and of itself has not been carried out for several years, but one which they are both very familiar with and which over the years has turned more and more into a ritual. Ella lifts her bottom a little, so Grandma can insert the diaper under her and hold out the tapes on the sides, after which Ella puts her bottom down again and feels a distantly familiar sensation of the fluffy diaper rustling under her bottom. Grandma quietly hums a song to herself while she makes sure the diaper fits correctly. Then she dusts her with a little baby powder, which spreads a familiar, lightly perfumed scent in the room, and folds up the front of the diaper. She has to stretch the sides a fair bit to be able to attach the tapes to the front of the diaper, but after a few adjustments she is satisfied and presses the tapes down with her thumbs. -These diapers are really starting to get a bit tight on you, now that you've gotten a little bigger. - Yes, I've tried to tell you that I've grown a little too old, Ella says with a shy smile. -Don't try, young girl. You won't get away that easily. Tomorrow, we'll buy you a bit bigger diapers, Grandma says, glancing at the six-pack, which now only contains two diapers. The old ones we have left in the other drawer will probably be best left in reserve. Ella knows which diapers are in reserve. The last time she was here, they ran out of the usual diapers, and then Ella had to have one of the old reserves for the last evening and morning. They are the old school type with a rectangular separate diaper and a PVC tie-on that are tied at the sides. Then grandma suddenly pulls the old pyjama pants over her feet, and then she has to lift her bottom again so they can be pulled into place over the diaper. As Ella sits up on the edge of the bed, Grandma pulls the black top over her head, quickly replacing it with the pink tank top that belongs to the pyjamas, before turning and walking out towards the kitchen. In her hand she has Ella's panties, which are to be sent to the laundry basket. It's probably the last time I'll see a pair of panties for a couple of weeks, Ella thinks to herself. She stands up and glances quickly at the image in the mirror that hangs over the old dresser in the guest room, and sure enough, you can just about perceive the diaper's bulge under the pyjama pants, both in front and back. Ella moves a little and pulls the edge of the diaper a little, so that it fits better and more like she remembers. Maybe time for new pyjamas? Out in the kitchen, it is now time to start cooking and grandma is rattling pots and ladles. Ella carefully paws her way out into the kitchen and is a little surprised at how familiar everything feels, even though she hasn't experienced it in years. The wooden floor underfoot. The creak from the stairs. The slightly tight and too short pyjama. The diaper that is hugging her between her legs and up over the bum. The diaper doesn't quite reach the lower part of her back, as she remembers it used to, as it stops just above her buttocks, but that's probably because she got a little too big. - Well, there you are, says grandmother. I thought you were stuck in front of that mirror, as usual. If you cut the vegetables there, on the cutting board there - don't cut yourself on the knife, it's sharp - then I'll get started on the meat. -Of course, grandma, Ella answers and starts chopping onions and cutting carrots. The bench is a little high and she almost has to stand on tiptoe to be able to cut the vegetables the right way. But soon everything is in the pot and grandma brings a big glass of lemonade for Ella and a cup of coffee for herself. Thirty minutes, lots of talking and laughing, and two more glasses of lemonade later, dinner is ready and they sit down at the table. Grandma starts with the usual questioning: "how's school going?", "have you met a guy, yet?" and "What are your plans for the future?" and Ella is doing her best to balance being honest with her grandmother but not too honest to the point of worrying her, while she's chomping down on a hearty portion of the meat stew and has almost completely forgotten about the diaper. But after another half hour of eating and talking, when Ella leans back full and satisfied, she feels how all that lemonade is starting to make her feel a bit needy. She knew this moment would come. She knows after her first attempt to persuade grandma that she shouldn't need to wear a diaper, that there's no point in excusing herself to go to the toilet. So, she instead tries to relax the way she usually does here. It's a bit difficult if you're not used to doing it at the dinner table, in the middle of a conversation. But three glasses of lamonade is soon doing it's magic and she feels the warm pee starting to seep out. She is utterly surprised by how easy and natural it is to pee herself at grandma's house. She feels the vaguely familiar feeling like so many times before here, how the diaper fills up and how it swells a little between the legs and up towards the bum. They continue talking for a good while before Grandma glances at the clock and exclaims in surprise: - Oh, look at how the time flies, it's almost 11 pm! You who have had such a long journey are probably tired and want to sleep. - Yes, the journey out here doesn't get shorter just because you're older, Ella says and yawns a little. -Then we'll put this away and then it's probably time for good night, says grandma and gets up. Together they clean the table and then grandma arranges the food to go back into the fridge, while it is Ella's job to clear the dishwasher. When she reaches up to put a couple of cups on a shelf, Grandma sees that there is a small dark spot on the back of Ella's butt, just to the right of where the diaper is barely visible under the fabric. - Oh no, Ella, I think we've hade a little leak, she says putting a hand on the back of the diaper judging the amount of leakage. Yes, it has leaked. That's just another sign that we need to buy slightly bigger diapers. But it would seem it was lucky that we put one on you? Let's take the trousers off so we can wash them during the night. It doesn't matter if you go around here with just your nappy on. Ella blushes deeply. She hadn't noticed herself that she'd leaked a little. It could only be a few drops, she thinks, but it's still a bit embarrassing, and god how small she feels when grandma is the one who discovers that she's peed herself, and that it's leaked. Grandma helps her off with the pajama pants, which Ella obediently steps out of. - Go brush your teeth while I turn on the washing machine, she says while giving Ella a pat on the back of the diaper. - Grandma! complains Ella, trying to wave grandma's hand away. But she takes her toiletry kit from her bag and paws off to the large bathroom on the ground floor. The sensation of the diaper is even bigger now that she has nothing on over it. It kind of slides down a little over the butt and hangs a little heavily between the legs. The bathroom is covered with old green tiles and a black and white checkered floor. A large clawfoot tub and modern shower is at one end and a large dresser with mirror and sink at the other. She turns to the image in the large mirror over the sink that shows the entire bathroom in all its glory, and stops at the first sight. Ella barely recognizes herself. She doesn't look her age at all, standing in a childish tank top and with a clearly wet baby diaper sagging between her legs. Ella puts toothpaste on the brush and starts brushing, after which she turns back to the mirror. She carefully feels the front of the diaper and turns and mirrors her back. She spits out the toothpaste, rinses her mouth and takes two tassels from her toiletry bag. A little wit puts her hair up so that she gets a tassel on each side and reflects herself again. Now she looks even younger, if possible, and knowing that this will make grandma super happy, she leaves the bathroom. Grandma is already waiting in the guest room. She has pulled down the curtians, turned on the bedside lamp and set a small garbage can on the floor next to the door. On the half-folded bedspread there is already a pack of wet wipes, a can of powder and a new dry diaper folded up. - OH, but Ella, you're so cute with tassels in your hair, exclaims grandma while giving Ella a short hug. She puts her hands on Ella's shoulders and continues: You are just as sweet as you have always been to me. It's not that big of a deal wearing diapers at grandma's, as long as only we know, is it? - No, maybe it isn't? It actually felt quite nice not having to run to the toilet in the middle of dinner. - How nice that you feel that way, Ella, darling. I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. Lay down on the bed now and we'll make sure to get the night diaper on before you jump into bed. This thing about night diapers versus day diapers is something that Ella has only heard here at grandma's house. The night nappy has always been a real tape nappy, while the day nappy has varied quite a bit over the years. Sometimes it has been pullups and sometimes the same tape diaper as at night. But at night it has always been a tape diaper. Preferably the thickest one grandma could find. Ella lies down on the bed again with her knees up and her heels at the edge of the bed, and grandma habitually pulls of the tapes to take off her diaper, before throwing it in the trash. Ella yawns again and has to lift her bottom a little, all the while getting a little cold in her neither parts when the diaper is taken away. Grandma cleanses her thoroughly with wet wipes and then it's time again for Ella to lift her bottom, the baby powder is sprinkled and spreads its faintly perfumed scent, and finally the dry diaper tapes is attached to the front of the diaper. Granny starts looking for the pyjama pants with her eyes before she seems to remember that they are in the washing machine. - The pants are in the machine, do you want panties over the diaper or would you rather sleep with it as it is? - I can sleep in just the diaper and a shirt, Ella answered. It's quite hot. - It will be fine, and then the trousers will be clean and dry by tomorrow morning. By the way, I found this old box of things when I was cleaning, Grandma says, reaching for a box next to the bed. It's your old stuff from when you were smaller and slept here. In the box is a doll, toys, teddy bears and all sorts of things that little girls like to play with. Grandma picks up piece after piece and talks away about what Ella liked and didn't like, what her favourites were and where she bought one thing and another. Finally, she finds a semi-transparent plastic jar from which a small pink pacifier falls out. - I remember that one, says Ella and reaches for the pacifier, but grandma is faster. - It's been a really long time since you stopped using these, says grandma. She still holds the pacifier out of Ella's reach and looks at her meaningfully. - It's been a long time since I stopped wearing diapers too, Ella counters quickly and laughs a little. - You're right about that, Grandma replies and gives her the pacifier. Besides, it goes quite nice with the tassels, the tank top and the cute diaper. Ella accepts the pacifier, looks at it thoughtfully for a few moments and then nimbly puts it in her mouth. The feeling is almost overwhelming but not completely unfamiliar and certainly not unpleasant. The rubber against the palate and the shield against the lips is surprisingly pleasant. She wiggles it back and forth in her mouth a few times before she finds the accustomed movements. She smiles big at grandma behind the pacifier before taking it out and giving it back. Grandma puts the pacifier on the bedside table. -No you little girl, now it really is time for you to sleep. She hugs Ella goodnight before hugging her and kissing her on the forehead. -Sleep well, Ella, see you tomorrow. -Good night grandma. Grandma turns off the light and walks out the door, but leaves a small gap ajar so that the light of the small hall lamp can find its way into the corner of the room. Ella turns around and accidentally puts a hand on the diaper. The dry warmth between the legs and up over her bottom feels indescribably safe and familiar. She runs her finger along the edge of the diaper and slowly drifts off to sleep with a big smile on her face.

Darren sat at his desk at school. The teacher was up front, going over sentence structure. Hating the language classes more than any other Darren quickly grew bored and zoned out. In his head, he was flying through the air, heading downtown to fight crime. He always loved to imagine himself as a superhero. Everyone loved superheroes. But alot of the other kids made fun of Darren. Darren was very small for his age. At nine years old, he was still only just over three feet tall and weighed in at only thirty-seven pounds. He was smaller than most of the kindergarten kids. He also had a problem with wetting himself. He didn't do it all the time. Often, he would find himself so engrossed in something he was doing that he just didn't feel the need to go. Then he would suddenly find he was wetting himself. It happened at school a few times, and the other kids never forgot about it. Bullies regularly taunted him. As such, no one wanted to be friends with him for fear of getting bullied. "Darren!" His teacher slapped a long ruler down on the desk. This caused Darren to jump, and he immediately felt his bladder give way. A puddle formed under his seat, then slowly dripped to the floor. Sighing, the teacher walked to his desk and then returned. "Go to the nurse." Holding out a small red bookmark shaped object. In big gold letters, it read hall pass. Taking the hall pass, Darren got up and left the room with his head down. He heard many other kids giggling as he left. Darren made his way through the empty halls down to the main office where the nurse was always stationed. Behind the main desk was a younger lady than usual. She was standing at the printer, waiting on the papers to come out. She had short brown hair, lightly freckled pale skin, and was wearing a pair of black-rimmed glasses. She looked up as Darren entered the office with sharp blue eyes. Taking in his appearance, her face softened a bit in a motherly way. Coming around the desk, she said, "Oh dear, let's get you into the nurses' office." A hand at his back, she guided him to the closed brown door off to the side. Opening it to a white room with cupboards around the wall. A sink in the corner and an examination table sitting in the center. The desk lady had him stand to the side of the door as she shut it. Then she moved to another door set in the corner to their right. "Helen, there is a kindergartener here who's had an accident." She said as she opened the door. Darren's face burned red with the embarrassment of being mistaken for a child 4 years younger than himself. Entering, the nurse looked down at him. She was a slim older lady with brown hair. "That's just young Darren, Miss Stacy. Despite his appearance, he is in third grade. He's just small for his age. Might as well remember him you'll probably see him again. He's usually in here at least once a week." Turning, the nurse walked back into the side room. Turning Miss Stacy looked down at Darren in a bit of a surprise. "Well, the nurse will take care of you now. I'm gonna go back to my desk." Leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. Darren stood waiting in his soggy pants until the nurse came back holding a zip-lock bag with clothes in it. Handing it to him, she said, "Go ahead and get changed while I call your father." Hanging his head, he began to change as she went back into her office. *********** Greg pushed away from his desk as he hung up the phone with the school. Once again, he was thankful he was able to handle his business from home. Greg owned his own business, and while it struggled to get off the ground at first he eventually found success. Thankfully his wife had still been alive at that time to keep him going. While he was rich by any means, he and his son weren't struggling. This was good since he once again had to go get him from school for wetting his pants. Standing up he got his car keys and left the house. On the way, he made a phone call. Pulling up at the school, he went inside, spoke to the office staff, and then getting Darren went back out to the car. On the way out he reached down and picked Darren up carrying him like a toddler to the car. "Dad, what are you doing?" Darren asked in confusion. "Carrying my little guy to the car of course." Opening the back door he deposited, and fastened his son into his booster seat. Closing the door he went back around to the driver's door. ********* Darren was utterly bewildered. His dad had steadfastly refused to pick him up since kindergarten. He realized with a start he had been so confused he hadn't even tried to argue against the stupid booster seat his dad made him use. Darren hated this thing. It only further accentuated the differences between his size and those in his grade at school. He only tolerated it cause his Dad had threatened him with one that looked more like a baby car seat. He said he should be using that one, but he would settle for this one if Darren cooperated. So Darren had given in. Reluctantly. As they drove Darren noticed they were heading further into the city rather than toward home. "Dad, where are we going?" He asked in curiosity. "Well, I've made you an appointment to see the doctor. Figured we should have some tests done to see if you have something wrong with you. Maybe they can help us with your little accidents." He said as he glanced in the rearview mirror at Darren. "I don't wanna go to the doctor!" He near shouted. Darren had been afraid of hospitals and doctors since his mother died of cancer when he was only 4. He always fought and refused to go into their offices. "It's ok this doctor won't be at the hospital. He has a private practice." As he said this, they pulled up to a large two-story building. It looked like an old house to Darren, but it had a sign out front stating it was a doctor's office. Parking the car his dad got him out and carried him inside to check-in. Inside the front door was a desk with a hallway leading behind it. A staircase leading up to the second floor on the right side of the hallway. The wallpaper looked really old to him. With floral patterns in gold on a red background. This place looked, and more importantly to him, smelled nothing like a normal doctor's office. He hated that overclean chemical smell. After checking in they moved through an arched doorway to the right. There were a few chairs surrounding a play area. There was a table with a train set on it you could move around by hand. Off to the side were the normal doctor's office blocks with multiple wires that had shapes you could move along them in patterns. Lastly scattered around were a few different kinds of toys. Mostly blocks and legos, but also some action figures. Most were old though. Darren moved to the table playing with the train. After a short while though he heard his name called. Picking him up again his dad followed a lady in a sundress down the hall. Entering a door he saw a room he would have thought was a kitchen. There were no appliances though, and a large exam table sat in the center of the room. The doctor came in, and after his normal questions began asking Darren some more pertinent ones. "So are you having trouble controlling when you go potty?" He said in a kind light hearted tone. Darren nodded shyly. "Well, what's going on? Can you say when it started?" Darren just sat in silence staring at the floor. The doctor looked up at his dad. "It started about a month ago. He has always had an issue with wanting to hold it til the last minute while playing. Then he would try to rush to the bathroom in time. Often without making it. Now though he will just start wetting himself randomly it seems. Says he doesn't feel anything when it happens." His dad stated in an exasperated tone. "I finally had to just bring him in. I'm not sure what else to do." "Any nighttime wetting?" The doctor asked. "Used to be none, now it's almost every night." "Well let me examine him." Standing up he moved to the table where Darren sat. "Now just lay back, and I'll feel on your tummy ok." Nodding Darren laid back and the doctor lifted his shirt to his chest. Then with sure motions began to push in on different spots of his abdomen. The doctor asked each time if there was any pain, but Darren always shook his head negatively. As he pushed at Darren's lower abdomen though he felt a warm stream immediately rush from between his legs. Moving quickly the doctor grabbed a towel from one of the nearby cabinets. Then used it to dry up any of the urine that met the floor. "Wait here it's gonna be alright. My nurse will be in here to help you get cleaned up in just a minute." Then motioning to his dad, Darren watched as they exited the room. ********* "Well I'm not entirely sure what's going on, but he seems to be in fine physical health. He is quite small for his age, and that may be causing some delays though. His muscles and nerves may just not be fully developed enough yet. It may take some time before he gains full control. We will run some bloodwork to rule out other possible issues. I don't foresee it showing anything though. I would also suggest having him in to see a pediatric urologist. In the meantime, he should probably wear some protection." With this, he moved to a hall closet nearby. Opening it Greg saw a bunch of baby diapers inside along with other supplies like powder and rash cream. There were a lot of different brands and sizes stacked neatly on the different shelves. Reaching up the doctor grabbed a package of size 7 pampers. They had pictures of some dogs across the packaging. Greg recognized them from the paw patrol show that Darren sometimes watched. "His small stature works in your favor here. The size seven diapers should fit him well. This will save you some money over the medical youth diapers." He handed them to Greg who slowly nodded his head. "Yeah, I guess you're right. At least this way we can save his clothes, and bedding until he can control himself." He said with no enthusiasm. The doctor then grabbed a loose diaper from the same shelf. Moving over to a nurse he held it out. "The young one in the office had a bit of an accident. Can you help him get cleaned up, please?" Smiling she took the proffered object, "of course doctor." Then moved to the exam room. Stopping at the closet on the way to grab a small bottle of powder and a tube of rash cream. ********* As Darren sat in his wet pants for the second time that day, he wondered what his dad was talking about with the doctor. He started as the door opened, and a young nurse walked into the room. She was dark-skinned with long straight hair. She wore a pair of scrubs that had SpongeBob cartoons scattered across them. "OK we are gonna get you cleaned up, and ready to go." She said this with enthusiasm, but Darren just felt more disheartened as he saw the objects in her hands. She set the supplies down and moved to his side. "Now I want you to just lay back and relax. This will be over in no time, ok?" She said the last as more of a no-nonsense statement than a question. Knowing there was no point in arguing, he just lay back on the table. With sure motions, she had his shoes and pants off in record time. Then grabbing the waist of his white briefs, now stained yellow, she swiftly removed them. The soiled garments were dropped in a bag, then swiftly tied up. Dropping the bag on the counter, she grabbed up the supplies and then returned to his side. Setting the powder and cream down, she proceeded to open the diaper. Darren could see Chase, Marshall, and Sky from Paw Patrol pictured on the outside. Without a word, the nurse took his ankles in hand, and lifting his bottom, slid the diaper in place. Holding his legs she first spread some of the cream on his butt cheeks, then in between and up onto his scrotum. Next came the powder with its cloying babyish scent. Last, she lowered his legs and swiftly pulled the diaper between his legs and taped it in place. "There we go all clean, dry, and protected from further accidents." She exited the room, leaving him alone once more. Darren lay still marveling at the feeling. The diaper was so soft. Like a cloud enveloping his middle, but also holding him tight in a warm embrace. He wasn't sure how to feel about this. Physically, it felt good, almost right. Mentally, however, he knew it was wrong. He was too old to be in a diaper. He should feel embarrassed he thought. Instead, he just felt calm. It felt right somehow. The door opened to him still laying on the exam table. Looking he saw his dad standing there. He was looking at his son wearing nothing but a diaper and a t-shirt. Feeling his cheeks burn with embarrassment at last, Darren attempted to pull his shirt down over the diaper as he sat up. Moving to his son, Greg wrapped Darren in a firm hug. "It's OK little guy. You don't need to hide from Daddy. It's not a big deal. This should just be for a little while til you regain control." Nodding his head in assent he moved to get down from the table. Instead his dad grabbed him under the arms. Hoisting him up onto his hip, he grabbed the bag of clothes on the counter and they left the room. After checking out the two got in the car and drove home. ********* Back home the pair went inside. Greg sat his son in front of the TV in the living room. He then went back to his office. His business was fairly self-sufficient, therefore he could easily step away. He had been lucky enough to find people who were committed to helping him succeed. They would reach out if they needed his decision for anything truly important. After sending out an email to everyone notifying them he would be away for a while and to reach out if they needed anything, he then went searching through the internet. There he found clothes, furniture, and the other items he would need to care for Darren in his newly diapered state. Placing the orders to be delivered in the next few days he went up to the attic storage. ********* Darren sat watching nick Jr cartoons, thumb in his mouth, in the living room. He felt odd sitting in just a diaper watching cartoons. Yet he also felt safe and content. The diaper was so soft and hugged his waist in a comforting way. Reaching down he rubbed his hand over the soft cloth-like exterior marveling at the feeling. That's when he realized he was wet already. He hadn't even noticed when he wet himself. Feeling the squish of the absorbent gel inside gave him goosebumps. He realized he was actually kind of enjoying this. The diaper felt nice, and he didn't have to stop what he was doing for the bathroom. He was so engrossed in the exploration of his diapered state that he didn't notice his dad. He had come down stairs with a box. Looked in on his son, and seeing everything was OK, went into the kitchen. A few minutes later he returned, and picking Darren up, went back into the kitchen. Darren was startled by his dad suddenly picking him up. Then when they got into the kitchen he saw a cloth spread over the dining room table. His dad laid him down on it. In quick motions he had the diaper undone, drawn out from under him, and rolled up to throw away. Darren in his embarrassment tried to quickly cover himself. His dad just chuckled. "Ain't nothing there I ain't already seen little man. You're gonna have to keep those out of the way so I can get you cleaned up." Taking hold of Darren's wrists he moved them out of the way. Then taking some wipes he cleaned the diaper area. Darren laid there just taking in the sensations of his dad cleaning him. Then his dad lifted his legs as the nurse had done. After sliding a fresh diaper under him, he spread some more cream, and sprinkled fresh powder over the area. Then pulled the diaper up before taping it in place. "There we go all clean and fresh." He said as he tickled his son's belly. Darren laughed as he tried to squirm away. "Now the doctor said you will probably need these for a while. With that we are gonna have a few rules. Number one, you are not to change yourself or attempt to remove your diaper. If it needs to be changed you will come tell me, or another adult that I have said is allowed to change you. Number 2, you will use the diaper for its intended purpose. That means pee and poo. When you are ready we will work on getting you potty trained." He had a stern look as he said this. "But dad I can't go to school like this. The other kids will make even more fun of me." Darren whined with tears welling in his eyes. "Oh there's no need to worry about that. I was already planning on this, though it wasn't supposed to be until after the summer, you are going to be homeschooled for a while. I turned in all the necessary paperwork to your school when I picked you up today. You start an online course on monday." It was only Wednesday now so Darren started to get excited to have no school for almost a week. "Now lastly there may be more rules added in the future as they are needed. For now, though these two should suffice. I ordered you some new clothes and furniture to help with your needs. They should be here in a day or so. Until then I found a box of your old stuff in the attic. Not sure why I never got rid of it, but now I'm glad I didn't." He said this last with a grin. He moved to the sink to grab something then returned holding a pacifier in front of Darren's face. "Now I have seen you sucking on your thumb still at times. Seems like this would be better for you." Not wanting to seem eager, though secretly feeling excited, he pulled his head back from it. "I don't want to. It will make me look like a baby." He said in a low tone. "Buddy, it's a bit too late for that don't ya think? You're laying here in a diaper and t-shirt, been wetting your pants for a long time now, and suckling on your thumb." He said all this in a calm but no-nonsense tone. He wasn't trying to be mean, just stating the facts for his son. "I'm pretty sure this would be better for you than your thumb, and it would free your hand up to play." Accepting his dad's words, and even agreeing about being able to play easier, he opened his mouth to accept the blue pacifier. As he began to suckle at the nipple a warm feeling spread through him, and he felt even more at ease than before. As though the stress of everything else just fell away. "There see, isn't that better than your thumb?" Darren just nodded at his dad, a grin spreading behind the pacifier. "Now why don't you go play." Picking him up off the table he placed Darren down on the floor. As soon as his feet hit the floor he was moving back to the living room to watch cartoons. Greg smiled as he watched his son's diaper waddle. He hadn't seen Darren smile like that in years. Turning he began making dinner for the two of them. ********* Darren had gone up to his bedroom. There he turned his TV on to watch more nickelodeon. SpongeBob was on now after all. Sitting he began playing with his toys. After just a few minutes though he grew bored with them. Instead he went to his small bookshelf in the corner. There were quite a lot of books here that his dad used to read him before bed. They hadn't performed this bedtime ritual in some time though. Him getting too old and his dad being busy with his work. On the second shelf though there were a bunch of coloring books, and various tubs of crayons. Grabbing these and a book he began to color while watching the antics of SpongeBob. An hour or so later his dad called him down to dinner. As he entered the kitchen he saw his old high chair. The normal table piece was gone, and it sat next to the bar instead of the table. His dad picked him up as he came in the room. Carrying him over he sat Darren in the highchair and after buckling him in pushed the chair to the bar. "You're a bit big for this chair with the table attached, but this should work for now." He smiled as he sat a plate of Mac and cheese, mashed potatoes, and cut up pieces of a cube steak. "I made your favorite." With a smile he sat a glass of milk down as well. "Where's the fork?" Darren asked looking up at his dad. "Silly you don't need a fork. You can just use your hands." With that, he placed a bib around Darren's neck. Paw patrol characters were pictured on it. Hesitantly at first, then with more confidence, Darren used his hands to eat. By the time he was finished his hands, face, and chair seemed to have more food on it than what was on the plate to begin with. Pulling him back from the bar counter, his dad unbuckled him. Then picked him up, and carried him to the hall bathroom. There he stood Darren in the tub. Then, after undressing him, ran bath water for the messy boy. While the water ran his dad left the room, returning quickly with a small basket of water toys. Darren hadn't seen his bath toys in a long time. "Look what I found while going through the attic earlier." He said with excitement as he turned over the basket. Out fell rubber animals that could hold water, most of which were water animals, a couple of tug boat ships, and two hand puppet things shaped like sharks. While Darren played with the toys, his dad proceeded to wash him. After getting the little boy cleaned up, he drained the dirty water out. Then drying his boy off, picked him up and carried him back to the living room. There he got Darren into a fresh diaper. Afterward he picked him up, moving to the couch he sat down, and turned on the TV. Finding a movie he sat on the couch cuddling with Darren next to him. After a short while, he fell asleep curled next to his daddy. Picking his boy up, Greg carried him up to his bedroom. Laying Darren in his bed, he kissed him on the forehead, and tucked him in for the night. "Good night my sweet boy." He turned the light off, leaving the Chase nightlight going. Then closing the door he left Darren to his dreams.

Jack adjusted his collar and smoothed out the front of his dress shirt for the third time that morning. The tie still felt oversized—Amazon-manufactured, like everything else in the building—but it wasn’t worth complaining. You learned early, as a Little, to pick your battles carefully in a world that wasn’t built for you. The doors of Halcyon & Crane Sales Solutions whooshed open with a soft puff of climate-controlled air. Gleaming floors. Holographic welcome signage. High heels tapping like judgment down glass corridors. Jack’s loafers squeaked faintly, barely audible against the thunder of Amazon shoes overhead. It was a firm run almost entirely by Amazons. And the fact that a 20-year-old native-born Little like him had landed a job here was… rare. Maybe even miraculous. He was proud of it—terrified, too. As he passed the reception area, Ms. Bellamy, the Amazon secretary, gave him a saccharine smile. “Good morning, little Jack. Tummy feeling okay today?” Jack stiffened slightly. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” She always asked that. In the same tone someone might use to check if a preschooler had remembered to use the potty. He kept walking. Kept his eyes forward. He had to prove himself. Every day. Every hour. The sales floor was buzzing with chatter, tablets, and presentation files. Amazon executives towered over their desks, making confident calls and reviewing data on floor-to-ceiling touchscreens. Jack’s workstation was, predictably, much smaller—tucked into a nook near the supply cabinet, custom-made for a Little. But his numbers were good. Better than good, in fact. That’s what brought the attention. Ms. Halden. Senior Accounts Director. Eight foot six, maybe more. Graceful but imposing, with dark auburn hair tied into a firm bun and eyes that could silence a room with a glance. She didn’t raise her voice—she didn’t need to. She was the type of Amazon who could make even other Amazons straighten up. She also had a reputation. Her office had a plastic potty in the corner. Some said it was there as a joke. Some said she used it for “noncompliant Littles.” Others claimed she’d already “adopted” two staffers from other departments—both of whom had vanished into domestic regression with full Amazon legal custody. Jack told himself it was just office gossip. But that still didn’t stop his heart from jumping when her voice echoed behind him. “Jack. My office. Now.” He turned, swallowing. “Yes, Ms. Halden.” He climbed up onto her chair-sized step-stool just outside the doorway and entered, quietly. Her office smelled of lavender and leather. It was pristine. Minimalist. Polished chrome and black furniture, the firm’s awards gleaming in a locked glass case. And in the far corner, like a stain in his peripheral vision: the plastic potty chair. Bright pink. Unlabeled. But unmistakable. Jack tried not to look at it. Ms. Halden gestured to a booster seat placed in front of her desk. “Up.” He hesitated. “Uh… may I sit in the normal—?” Her eyes didn’t even flicker. Just one perfectly arched brow. He climbed up into the booster. “Good boy.” Jack’s face flushed, but he didn’t argue. She tapped her desk. A glowing spreadsheet appeared between them. “Your sales reports are excellent,” she said. “Clients love you. You listen. You respond quickly. You never push. You ask questions.” Jack blinked, unsure where this was going. “I’d like to groom you for handling tier-2 accounts,” she said smoothly. “But that means more oversight. More structure. More… maturity.” Jack sat up straighter. “Yes, ma’am. I’m ready for more responsibility.” “Oh, no no,” she smiled. “Not that kind of maturity.” He froze. She tapped again. A smaller window popped open: a photo. A grainy shot of Jack in the break room two days ago, spilling coffee as his legs were dangling from the Littles’ bench. Another tap: a second photo. Jack, exiting the Little’s bathroom. Clearly mid-waddle. His belt loose. A faint bulge from beneath his slacks. He inhaled sharply. She folded her hands. “I’ve been watching you, Jack. You’re very determined to be a successful employee here. That’s good. But your goal is not… sustainable.” He opened his mouth. Closed it. Ms. Halden stood. She crossed the room slowly, her heels soft against the padded carpet. Towering. Measured. “I can offer you structure,” she declared. “Routine. Security. You’d never need to worry about mistakes. Or grown-up things. I can make sure of that.” She reached into a drawer and placed a folded diaper on the desk. Thick. White. Printed with soft pastel stars. Jack stared at it, blood pounding in his ears. “I—I’m not a baby,” he said quietly. “I’m free. I have my ID, my Littles’ Work Certification—” Ms. Halden smiled. “I know. That’s one of the reasons why I haven’t taken you yet.” She leaned down, whispering just beside his ear. “But you’re already halfway mine, Jack. You just don’t know it yet.”

This is the first part of a story. It wasn't going to be multipart, but it got a bit out of hand. Next part coming once I've written it. If people like this enough for me to write the rest, I guess. You knew my history. I’d explained everything to you early on. How I’d woken up to a soaked bed every morning, and come home every night smelling of poop as I couldn’t get through a day without making a mess in my underwear - more than once most days. How every time someone told a joke I’d end up hiding the huge wet patch that I’d left on the seat and my clothes, and you knew how traumatic the hand-wringing and the chastising from my parents was. Nappies would have made things so much simpler and easier, but every time the suggestion came up, I’d argued and protested, and the subject was dropped. You knew how long that went on for. Daily accidents, and daily recriminations through to my teenage years. Better-hidden accidents, less major, less frequent, but still too obvious throughout the rest of my life. Concentration. Effort. Constant awareness all the time to stop me embarrassing myself. And the endless trips back and forth to the toilet, at the slightest urge. You knew about my kinks. You helped me put two and two together, and - to understand that having accidents in a ‘safe’ way was helping me to relive the memories without the recriminations, and without the unrelenting humiliation and trauma. To not have to stop doing fun things because I needed to hide what I’d done. And you helped me realise the accidents weren’t laziness, and weren’t because I wasn’t trying hard enough, but that they were caused by things that I just couldn’t control. It was your suggestion that I wear all the time. It had always felt to me like I was LARPing incontinence, but you told me to try for a few weeks, and after that I realised how much work I’d been putting in to avoid accidents, and what life was like for everyone else. No more constant worry, no more anxiety, no more trips to the toilet every 20 minutes, and so much less shame. That initial reluctance and my push-back against you fed into our power-play dynamic. That night when I came home, standing in the hallway, trying to hide to mess in my underwear and the stain on my butt. Your tone when you told me to turn round, and the comforting hug and help cleaning up. I definitely played into the brattiness that night when you tried to put my nappy on me. I wanted it, but admitting that felt wrong. There was no way I could let you put me in one without fighting back. I needed the spanking that night. Not just because I was a brat, but I desperately needed to feel some pain to allow myself to enjoy the pleasure I was receiving for doing something that I shouldn’t have done. And then there was the day after. Being woken up with you checking my wet nappy, and changing me into a clean one. My little protest that we were going out, and that I couldn’t wear a nappy, and you making it very clear that no matter whether I wanted to or not, I was going to be in one. I decided that I had to fight back a little there. So I made sure to have lots of milk with my cereal at breakfast, and lots of milk with my coffee. You’d made it clear I wasn’t to change myself, so you were going to have to take me back and forth to the toilet so I could poop. You’d soon get bored and just take the nappy off. We got on the train. Our day out in the city was something we’d both looked forward to, and it made sense to avoid driving in. That was going to play into my plan perfectly. Those toilets were so small that you’d give up right away, regardless of the big change bag you brought with you. I’d be free of the nappies right away. I felt my tummy rumble as soon as we got on the train, and whispered in your ear, “I think I need to poo”. Your response shocked me, “well poo then. I’ll change you when we get to a station.” No taking me to the toilet, no telling me to take my nappy off, not even a “hold on as long as you can”, just a simple instruction. The journey was going to take an hour, there was no way I wanted to stay stinky for that long. Definitely not in public. But there was also no way you’d let me do that. We’d end up getting off so you could change me as soon as you smelled me. I felt my tummy grumble and cramp again, and without even trying to help it along, I felt mess leak into my nappy. I sat there, completely still. The train wasn’t busy, but it wasn’t empty, and there were going to be more people getting on as we went along. I began to smell myself, and knew other people would smell me too. “I think a bit has leaked out” I whispered to you. Your seemed surprisingly casual, “I’m sorry Honey, but it’ll be a little while before I can do anything about it. Good job for telling me though.” It might have been what you said, it might have been the tone, but I saw red. Now I wanted you to feel like you had to do something, even if it meant I was going to humiliate myself in the process. The next time my tummy rumbled, I lifted myself up off the seat, perched on your lap, and gave a push. With a bubbling squelch I filled my nappy with stinky mess as I sat on you. I thought you’d be furious. Or at the very least, shocked. “Aw, do you feel a bit better now?” certainly wasn’t the response I expected. I stayed sitting on you, the hot mush in my pamper making me feel utterly humiliated, as you cuddled me. “It’s OK, Honey. It won’t be too long before we get to our station. Why don’t you close your eyes and try to dose for a bit”. I did as you told me. I tried to relax, tried to sleep, but the stink from my nappy kept wafting into my nose, and the movement of the train kept squishing the mush against my butt. I wanted to fall into a hole. All the while you seemed so calm. Like me having stinky pants wasn’t an issue at all. I felt the train slow as we came into the first station. I started to stand up, ready to get off, but felt your arms pull me tight. I couldn’t believe you’d let me stay like this all the way through the journey, but you didn’t relent. “Are we going to get off?” I asked. “No,” you said, a firm tone to your voice, “We can’t just drop what we’re doing every time you have an accident. That’s why you’re in a nappy. I’ll change you when we get to the station”. I blushed as you mentioned my nappy. It didn’t seem like anyone heard, but you made no effort to moderate your voice. Much like the accident itself, and the clothes you’d helped me pick out - which didn’t show the nappy off, but weren’t the usual baggy outfit I’d have picked, everything was just so matter of fact. I had accidents. I wore nappies. It didn’t affect anyone else, and we weren’t going to go out of our way to disguise it. I closed my eyes again and eventually managed to drift off to sleep. I woke up to you kissing my neck. “Time to get up” I heard in my ear. “I think you peed in your sleep. I felt your nappy get warm”. I blushed again, gently repositioning myself to allow me to stand up. I could feel my nappy bulging between my legs. I’d definitely not been this wet when I went to sleep. I waddled a little as you guided me off the train. The carriage and the platform were really busy, but in my drowsy state I wasn’t paying attention to everyone around me. Probably for the best, as at least a few people were probably staring at me, pinpointing me as the source of the smell. You ushered me towards the accessible toilet, reaching round and unbuttoning my jeans as soon as you closed the door behind us. I felt your hand on the back of my nappy, pulling it back. “You definitely needed to go” I heard you say, “do you think you’re all done?” I nodded my head. “Well, I’d like you to try to go a bit more for me anyway.” you said. I tried to protest, but it was a very half-hearted effort. I bent my legs a little and strained right there and then. No more mess, but the hissing noise betrayed me losing what was left in my bladder. “Good kitty” you said, as you caressed my back. Let’s get you changed. You reached into the change bag and pulled out my pacifier, slipping it into my mouth, then unzipped the fly of my jeans, tugging them down to my ankles. “Step out please” you said, and I slipped my socks off and stepped out of my jeans. “From the state of your nappy I think it’s going to be best if we take all your clothes off” you say. I catch a glance of the nappy in the mirror and you’re right. It’s destroyed, and there’s slight brown staining around the leg holes where it’s beginning to leak. “Arms up”. I do as you instruct, and feel you pull my top over my head. Standing in nothing but my destroyed nappy, I feel utterly helpless. You’re in charge now, I have no will of my own, and no control over anything to do with my accidents at all. I watch as you pull a bath towel and a disposable pad from the bag, and lay it on the floor. I know I should lie on it, but my mind is hazy. I wait for your instruction, shivering a little from the cool air on my skin. “Lie down please.” I do as I’m told, sitting first. I feel the mess that until now had been hanging between my legs squish to the front and back of my nappy, causing another waft of the stink to come out of my nappy. With my paci filling my mouth, and no clothing to mitigate it, the smell seemed far worse. As I lay down I feel the mush continue to push up the back of the nappy, seeping out the top. Without thinking, my hands come up to my face, as you bend down and begin the change. I feel your gloved hands gently stroking across the front of my nappy, and moving to the tapes. I know what’s about to happen, and I brace myself for it. You remove the top tapes. The smell gets worse. Then the bottom tapes. I feel the air hit my crotch as you pull the front of the nappy down. The smell is terrible now. I whimper behind my pacifier, utterly humiliated. Then I feel your hand on my face, your lips on my forehead, and hear your voice, “it’s OK, nothing to worry about. Your nappy held it all, and we’re getting you clean now”. My quivering lips ease into a smile, and I feel you take the front of my nappy and use it to clean a big chunk of the mess off my bottom. Then your hands lifting my feet up, raising my legs and bottom. “Can you grab your thighs for me please” you ask. I do as I’m told, then suckle on my paci as you use wet wipes to clean the pee and mess from my thighs and around the front, before moving down towards my bottom. The cool wipes feel wonderful, and the freshly wiped, clean skin feels so nice compared to the claminess of the pee and mess. You push my legs back a little further, and raise my butt up higher, pulling the nappy out from under me, then continue cleaning me, taking a big handful of wipes and cleaning my butt cheeks. I feel you go over the same area again and again, then move inwards. I barely feel the first wipe that touches my butt hole, because there’s so much mess, but as you clean it I begin to enjoy the sensation of the wipe on my sphincter. Caressing the tender skin. Cleaning it. Soothing it. Then slipping into my hole. I whimper again, this time from pleasure rather than humiliation. You penetrate me with the wipe again, twisting your finger around a little, and I writhe as I enjoy the sensation, suckling harder on my paci. You get a new wipe and make one more pass, once again penetrating my hole and twisting your finger around. Once again it makes me writhe from the pleasurable sensations. Then you stop. “Not now, baby kitty” you say, “I’m just getting you clean before we go and enjoy our day”. I sigh, and pout, but it falls on deaf ears. You lift my butt up and slip the clean nappy underneath my bottom, then powder my butt before you let it drop slowly onto the clean and dry padding. Then you take some rash cream and gently rub it in, taking care to cover the crevices and cracks, making sure my skin will be safe until my next change. A kiss on my belly as you close the nappy up, and the four tapes sealed shut, and I’m all clean and dry. For now. I sit up just as you’re rolling up my used nappy, and get a look at the entire packet of wipes that you’ve used to clean me up. I go a little shy and nervous, and watch as you take the heavy nappy, seal it in a nappy sack, then drop it in the bin. I stifled a giggle at the thudding noise it made as it hit the bottom. Then remembered I needed clothes. I raised my arms in the air waiting for you to help me put my shirt and jumper back on. You took the hint. In a few minutes I was dressed and ready to go. And now I wasn’t feeling quite so ashamed, I remembered I was trying to be a brat and get out of this silly nappy. Stepping out onto the concourse I was a little nervous. We’d been in the bathroom for a long time, but so many people had seen us go in, someone must still be around. I felt my cheeks flush with heat again, and reached for your hand. “It’s OK,” you said, a calm tone to your voice, “you’ve had an accident and had your nappy changed. That’s all. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Once again your matter of fact attitude put me at ease. The next step of the journey was largely uneventful. A short trip on an underground train. You led me across the station to the correct platform, and we waited for the train to arrive. When it did it was packed. You ushered me on first, and followed right behind, both of us squeezing into the packed carriage. I decided to have a little fun, and rubbed my padded butt against your body, trying to turn you on. It seemed only fair after what you’d done to me during my change. I smiled to myself as I did. Not that you’d see, given there hadn’t even been room for me to turn around. After a few moments you smelled something. At least you decided that you had. I heard your voice in my ear, a little too loud for how busy the train was, “Have you had an accident Honey? Something smells stinky”. I blushed hard and shook my head. Then I felt your hand on my butt. “I can’t really tell here. I’ll have to find somewhere to check you when we get off”. That put an end to my teasing you. A couple of stops down the line the carriage emptied out a little, and I was finally able to turn around and pout at you. Of course, with the delay, it didn’t really have he effect I was hoping for, but I knew why I was pouting at you, even if you thought I was just pulling a silly face. Three more stops and it was our turn to get off. You guided me onto the escalator in front of you, and as we went up I felt a tug on the back of my diaper. I decided to not turn around, to avoid drawing attention to what you were doing, but as we got to the top I gave you a look of disapproval. “It’s OK, Kittenface, you’re not stinky” you said, a cute smile on your stupid face. I wanted to pout, but I felt my nappy grow warmer as I peed. I hadn’t even realised I needed to go, and right in front of you, looking you in the eyes, I’d wet myself. “Straight to the aquarium?,” you said, “Or shall we get a drink first?” I don’t know if you hadn’t noticed, or were just trying to remind me that my accidents weren’t an issue, but your lack of reaction meant that all of a sudden I didn’t care that I’d wet myself. “Drink please” I said. You led me out of the station, and towards a bubble tea shop. As we got inside and I started looking at the menu, I realised that I was kind of hungry too. “Is there time for food?” I asked. “There’s time for anything you want,” you replied. “Then can I have a bubble waffle and ice cream?” The last time I asked for something like this, you wanted me that the milk in the ice cream might hurt my tummy. This time though, you just gave me a smile when you said, “of course”. I honestly wasn’t sure what had changed, but I liked this new you. You let me do what I wanted, and didn’t make me feel bad for it. I went and grabbed a table as you got our food and drinks. As I sat there waiting for you, I felt a little twinge in my bladder. It wasn’t strong, but I knew I needed to pee. So I did. There and then. Just as you arrived with our drinks and my bubble waffle. “I need to check to see if you need a change after this,” you said. I couldn’t tell whether you’d noticed my pee face, or just wanted to knock me off-balance again, but once again you momentarily set my brain to ‘smol’. I gave a nod, then began tucking into my waffle. “So, I’ve got a nice day planned for us” you said, “we start at the aquarium, then stop off at the arcade. Have some lunch, then go on to the museum and the theatre”. I looked up from my waffle, somewhat surprised by the packed itinerary. “Oooor,” you said, drawing out the syllable, “we could have a slightly less busy day, where we do the aquarium, then go for lunch and see how we feel after.” “that one sounds better,” I gently spit crumbs across the table as I reply, “The other one I don’t think we’d have time to enjoy any of it.” “You’re a very wise kitty,” you reply, “even if you do talk with your mouth full. How’s your waffle?” Learning from my error, I stick my thumb up as I finish my mouthful, “want a bite?” You dive in, taking a big mouthful. “It’s good” you say, spitting some crumbs back at me, and making me giggle. “Is there anything else you’d like to do today?” you ask. “Comic shop?” I say, “and the board games store?” You nod. “That was always going to happen. Anything else?” I lean in and whisper, “Maybe we could have some play time when we get home?” You smile. “I’m sure we can make that happen.” I finish my waffle and my bubble tea. “Right, Potty Pants, time for a nappy change” you say. “You don’t want to check me first?” I smirk “I know you’re soggy” you say, “I watched you pee your pants twice.” I blush. “Now before we do that, I want you to try to make a pushie for me.” you say “Here?” I ask, surprised. “Here” you say. I lift myself slightly off my seat and do my best to poop. After a minute or so you stop me,”Anything?” I shake my head. “Well done for trying” you say. You grab the bag and usher me out of my seat, then take me into the bathroom. Its small. Much smaller than the one in the station. “We’re going to have to do this standing up” you say, already unbuttoning my jeans. You look at my yellowed, pee-soaked nappy. “Good thing I decided to change you now” you say, before turning me around and checking the back for a mess. “OK, no mess, let’s get you out of your soggy pants” You say as you untape my nappy, and let it drop to the floor. You begin wiping me down. Once again the cool wipes feel good as they clean my skin. Although this time the clean up is much quicker. Once I’m clean you take a thick nappy from your bag, and hold it up against my butt, then gently guide me to the wall so that you can use it to hold the nappy up. “Not sure how easy it’ll be to get you changed at the aquarium” you say, as I stare at the thick nappy a little surprised, “so I thought I’d put you in this in case it’s an issue.” “But people will notice” I pout. You shrug, “They’d notice leak marks on your clothes and a puddle on the floor much more” you say. I can’t fault your logic, but I definitely don’t like it. Safely taped in you pull my jeans back up. In spite of how thick the nappy is, it’s still not too obvious, but as I move the crinkling sound is much louder than from my other nappy. “You ready for the fishes?” you ask. I nod, grinning, then you lead me back out, the thick nappy making me waddle a little as I follow behind you. ***** The entrance to the aquarium is busy, and theres a security screening arch with a bag scanner. I squeeze your hand as I relaise the guards are about to see my nappies. “It’s OK,” you say, reassuring me, “you’re in nappies for a reason, and the guards don’t care.” That’s not entirely true. As the bag goes through they pull us aside. Rather than give a longwinded explanation for the contents, you gently lift my jumper up, giving the guard a glimpse of the waistband of my nappy. I blush, and squeeze your hand harder, but in spite of the little embarrassment, you probably made the right decision. Anything else would have involved them pulling the nappies out while you explain that I’m padded. This way the only person who knows about my secret is the security guard. The other side of security are lockers, and a sign asking people to store large bags to avoid overcrowding. “We’re going to have to leave this here” you say. “Do you want me to take an emergency change out?” I nod. “The only problem is we’ve not got anything to carry it in”. “No then” I say, mortified by the idea of openly carrying a nappy as we walk around the aquarium. “Good thing I put you in a thick one then” you tease. The lighting in the first room of the aquarium is dim, and the air is cool. There’s something slightly dreamy about being in a dark room where one whole wall is a giant fishtank. I rush up to it and stare at the fish. I have no idea which ones are which, but I don’t care. This is fascinating. From high up in the tank a huge fish comes swimming down, swooping through the water. I’m so engrossed in it all that I don’t notice you behind me until you wrap me in a hug. “Enjoying yourself?” you say. I nod and grin, “shall we go into the next room?” We walked through into the next area, open-topped tanks filled with rays, sharks and dogfish. I climbed the stairs to look from above, stumbling a little as my nappy made me waddle. I felt your hand on my arm, helping me stay upright, “You OK?” you asked. I nodded. Your hand moved down to my crotch, and you gave a subtle squeeze of the front of my nappy. “I think you might need to be a bit more careful on stairs” you say, “your nappy’s swelling because it’s soggy”. “I’m not soggy” I protested. Then prodded the front of my nappy. It had definitely swelled since you put it on me. I’d peed myself. When did that happen? You’d changed me less than an hour ago. You saw the look of confusion on my face. “It’s OK, you had an accident. That’s not a problem, is it?” I shook my head, and gave you a cuddle. “I guess not”. You led me down the stairs and into the next room, There were only small tanks here, but there was a series of interactive displays with screens and games and puzzles. One of the games involved downloading an app, then being given a list of fish to ‘collect’ by running between the tanks and photographing the correct one. I couldn’t resist. I was onto my fourth fish, an elusive little panda guppy, when I felt my tummy grumble. I thought about letting you know, but I was enjoying myself and didn’t want to stop. I was also worried, given the bag was at the entrance, that you’d make us cut our trip short. So I just kept on with my hunt. A little bit more searching, and I’d bagged my guppy. Next up the harlequin rasbora.My tummy cramped a little. I glanced around. You were sitting at a screen, playing one of the games, and no one else was in the room. I braced, gave a little push, and felt some mess slip out into my nappy. I patted my bottom, and sniffed the air. It didn’t seem that much and not that noticeable, so I went back to my search. It took me another ten minutes or so to find the last four fish. At the end of the search walked over to the screen where I’d downloaded the app, scanned the completion code, and watched all my fish appear on the screen. It then congratulated me and told me I could collect a prize from the gift shop at the end. I got really excited and ran over to you to show you the screen. I’m sure I saw you sniff as I came near you, but I was too excited to worry about that. You gave me a little hug, then got up. Before I realised what was happening, you turned me round and checked that no one else was in the room, then pulled the back of my jeans and nappy. “Thought so” I heard you say. I blushed. “Are we going to have to leave to get me changed?” I said, my voice tinged with sadness and disappointment. You shook your head, “no, it’s OK, it’s not very noticeable, you’ll be fine a bit longer, but If you realise you’ve had another stinky accident I’d like you to let me know, so that if it is bad we can deal with it.” I nodded. “Uh-huh”. “Shall we go onto the next area?” you asked. I nodded. You led me through the doors into the next area. It was a tunnel, a long, glass one, cutting through an enormous water tank. Fish of all sorts swam through it, and i was incredible. A ray sailed over our heads, and I stopped to watch it. “There was no way I was going to let you miss out on this” you said to me, “no matter how bad an accident you’d had”. I giggled. “I’d have been very sad if you had”. Then I turned to you and gave you a big kiss on the lips. As I pulled away I looked in your eyes and smiled, “I still owe you a teasing for when you were changing me”, We continued on through the tunnel, going slowly as we marveled at the fish swimming above our heads, then emerged into the next room - another activity room. There were a lot more people in here than the last one, and most of the activities were taken up. I made a beeline for one of the empty ones, which had a screen at the top of a wall with various pictures and buttons on it. You walked around the room, looking at the signs on the wall, while I played. The game was OK, but was nowhere near as fun as the fish-finding one I’d played in the other room. The screen would display a fish, then I’d have to find the area of the world it lived in, and how deep it lived. The buttons were in rows and columns, with the columns representing a sea or ocean, and the rows showing the depth - shallowest at the top, deepest at the bottom. It started out as fun, but as I went on i found crouching down and standing up over and over was getting kind of tiring. It was also making my tummy feel grumbly again. I crouched down again, pressing the deepest button to show where the blobfish lived, and as I did my tummy cramped. Without much thought, I gave a push. Unlike the last mess, which was more like a lumpy fart, this was a big, semi-solid poop - the result of the ice cream I’d had earlier making my tummy go haywire. It also smelled pretty awful. I panicked. I knew there couldn’t be many more rooms left, and we’d already been here a good couple of hours, but I didn’t want to have to rush through and leave before we’d done the aquarium properly. I finally stood back up, and kept playing the game. After a few more fish I’d finished. I looked around the room, and saw you were still walking around looking at signs. I gently brushed my hand against my butt. The seat of my jeans was being pushed out by the poop. There was no way you wouldn’t realise what I’d done the minute I came back to you. If you didn’t smell it, you’d definitely see it. I spotted a hard stool in a corner of the room. That would help. I waddled over to it, and sat on the stool, doing my best to smoosh the poop and hide the bluge. I had no idea whether that had worked, but it definitely made the smell worse. To a point where people were looking round trying to work out where it was coming from. There was no way I could stay here. I decided to go find you, and hope that you wouldn’t notice what I’d done. By that point you’d stopped walking around the room, and were standing in the centre, watching me. I came up to you, a little unsteady on my feet as my nappy was now extremely bulky and pushing my legs apart. “What were you doing there, Kitty-cat?” you asked. “Nuthin’” I said, as innocently as possible, “My legs hurt after playing that game, and I wanted to sit down for a minute”. “OK” you said, a tone of disbelief in your voice “Is that why you were crouching down while you were playing it as well?” I didn’t realise you’d seen that. Now would be a perfect time to come clean about my accident like you’d asked me to do. You did say you’d get it sorted, but that would definitely involve going to the entrance to get the changing bag, and then we’d have to leave.. I nodded. “No other reason?” you asked, probing. I moved my head towards you to whisper a reply, then thought about how much I wanted to see what was in the next rooms. I shook my head instead. “Nope”. “Come on then” you said, taking my left hand in yours and ushering me towards the exit. I wondered why you’d chosen to do that, until I felt your right hand on my bottom. You had positioned it slightly underneath, so that it was exactly on the area that was messy, then you put pressure on it, making the mess stick to my butt, reminding me exactly of what I had done. You whispered in my ear, “I think someone has had a very stinky accident?” At this point there was no sense in lying any more. You knew. You’d always known. You even watched me poop my nappy. “Nu-uh!” I whined, “It’s just that the room is smelly”. “Oh? OK” you say as we get to the door. “So it’ll smell better in the next room then?” I shrug, “I don’t know. I’ve not been here before. Maybe?” “Let’s find out” You say as you lead me through the door. The next room has pictures of most of the fish we saw previously on the walls, acting as a bit of a summary of what we’ve seen. From what I could tell it served as a build up to the next room, which must have been the crescendo of the experience. It certainly didn’t seem like people found this room particularly interesting, as it was completely empty. “Nope,” you say, “it definitely doesn’t smell better here”. There’s a tone of frustration in your voice, although from the look on your face it seems to be more for effect rather than genuine. You stop me, just as we’re far enough through for the door to close behind us, and I feel your hand move from my bottom up to the top of my jeans. There’s a slight rush of cool air as you pull back the waistband of my nappy, and the smell gets worse. “ “For someone who hasn’t had an accident,” you say, “there’s an awful lot of poo in your nappy”. You spin me around so I can see your face. You look calm and amused, and your eyes have a wonderful mix of kindness and concern. “Being serious for a minute,” you say, a measured tone to your voice, “I’m not upset you’ve had an accident. Remember, it doesn’t matter, and if you want me to just make it better and make the embarrassment go away, all you need to do is ask”. I nod, my eyes welling up as I try to fight back tears. I wrap my arms around you in a tight hug, Squeezing hard and not letting go for a minute or so. Then I let go, and step back, my head bowed a little. I have no idea what’s coming next, but I know you’re usually pretty creative with my punishments, making them fit the ‘crime’. You take my hand. There’s an accessible toilet in one corner of the room. You lead me into it and close the door. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light. It’s much brighter in here than in the rest of the aquarium. When they do, I realise you’re unbuttoning my jeans. “Did you manage to bring a change?” I say, hope in my voice. “No.” you say, the stern, matter of fact tone to your voice that you’d had earlier coming back. You let my jeans drop to the floor. As I go to step out of them you stop me. “You’ll keep those around your ankles, please”, you say. It’s not a request. You then pull my tshirt and jumper off, leaving them dangling around my wrists. “Don’t let that come off of your wrists under any circumstances”. I nod my head. Your tone, and the situation, has stopped any hint of bratiness. “Now tell me what happened, please” you say, sitting on the closed toilet lid and watching me intently. There’s a slight hissing noise, as without warning or sensation, I lose control and wet my nappy. When it stops I begin to speak. “I didn’t know I needed to poo, then I needed to poo. And it just. I felt a cramp, and then I pushed. I didn’t realise it was going to be so much, and I didn’t want to have to stop having fun just because I’d pooed my nappy. So I tried to keep playing. Then when the game ended, i realised that you might see that my nappy had got bigger at the back so I sat down to try to squish the poo. I didn’t mean to be bad, I just didn’t want to have to leave” The words had started coming out slowly, but sped up as I spoke. Until I got to the bit about sitting down, where the emotion overwhelmed me, and I had to choke out the last bit through tears. By the time I finished speaking I was sobbing uncontrollably. “Come over here please” you said, and I shuffled across the floor, my gait restricted by my nappy and my jeans. You take my hand and begin stroking it reassuringly. “Do you know why you’re being punished?” “Because I didn’t tell you that I’d had an accident? And I tried to hide it from you?” I sniffled. You shook your head , “Because you knew you’d had an accident, but you lied to me. Again and again.” “I just didn’t want to leave” I said, once again sobbing harder. “I know, kitten-face,” you say, using my hand to pull me across your lap, “and you won’t be yet. Not until I decide.” I’m just processing this when I feel a firm slap on the bottom of my nappy. It doesn’t hurt - it would be difficult to hurt me through the padding - but the combination of the thudding, and the sensation of my mess being moved around my nappy with every blow makes me zone out, my brain slipping into a little-ish headspace. After ten swipes you stop hitting. Instead you rub my back, soothing me. You reach into your pocket and pull out my pacifier, slipping it into my mouth, then help me stand up, before guiding me to sit on your lap so you can hug me. I don’t know how long you spend cuddling me, but it’s soothing. At some point I’d stopped sobbing, and was contentedly suckling my pacifier and smiling a little. “OK, stinky-butt” you say, “time to get your clothes back on and get moving”. I stand up, still in a bit of a daze, and let you slip my tops back over my head, and pull my jeans up. They barely fit over my nappy, and the waistband is now very obvious above them. Although the smell of my mess is pretty obvious even if people can’t see my nappy. Before you open the door, you pop the pacifier out of my mouth and slip it back into your pocket. Then you lead me out into the boring room. “I meant what I said about staying until I decide we’re done, by the way” you said, that firm tone back to your voice, “as you don’t seem to care about everyone knowing you’ve messed your nappy, we’re going to keep looking around here until I decide that we can go and get you changed.” I try to work out what you mean by that, but before I can ask any questions, you’ve led me through into the next room. Which again is absolutely full of people. My grip on your hand tightens unconsciously. It won’t be too long before people start to notice that there’s a smell. And that I’m the source. I’m so worried about the people, that I don’t notice the room we’re in. Like the first room, it’s dark, and there’s a whole wall that’s an aquarium tank, but this one is monumental. It’s at least two stories tall, and it’s curved, stretching around the room so we can step inside the curve and be surrounded by the tank on nearly all sides. You lead me towards the curve. Although it is busy, it’s not so bad that we can’t get a good spot. You wrap your arms around me again, and we stand, just looking at the fish, enjoying the moment together. People may well have noticed my messy nappy, but right now I’m completely absorbed by us and I don’t care at all. “How are you feeling?” you ask. “Really happy” I reply. “I was never going to interrupt what we’re doing just to change your nappy.” you say, your voice soothing and calm, “the whole point of them is that you get to enjoy things. To have fun, without having to worry about accidents. And it’s not your fault you’re stinky. It’s the aquarium making it hard for you to be able to change.” My eyes begin to well with tears again, and I give you a big kiss.

It’s hard to put into words exactly what I’m getting at. But as I’ve unpotty trained, things sometimes happen that aren’t a big deal to me and so I forget that they are a huge deal if they happened to “normal” People. Obligatory disclaimer: You don’t need to remind me or the internet that normal is a social construct, or that normal is a spectrum, or that normal is based on culture, or that being normal is boring. I think that’s obvious to all of us here. ? Here are some recent examples of what I mean: - (Active adults don’t accidentally poop their pants. Or if they do it’s a fluke). I’m not seeking bowel incontinence, but I wear 24/7 and am incontinent of urine and I do mess a lot. Recently I accidentally messed myself while driving to work. It just sort of happened and I shrugged it off. - (A drop or two of urine is enough to make most people wash their clothes and linens). The other day leaked on the bed. My vanilla, albeit supportive wife was visibly upset at me and was further enraged when I tried to reassure that it was just a tiny bit of pee and it will dry, no need to fuss. - (Most people are confident they won’t have an accident at any given time). This one really blew my mind. My brother knows I am incontinent and an ABDL. I asked him how confident he was that he could stay dry for the next 8 hours. He said about 100% sure he can make it 8 hours without pissing his pants and seemed surprised that I was surprised. - (Most people can go on a day trip without a diaper bag). We recently visited this one vacation island that’s popular with locals. I couldn’t help but notice how few people had backpacks or any other bags for that matter. I of course had my diaper bag with me. I am sure there’s way more. But these are some examples that came to mind. I’d love to hear other people’s stories of times when they were taken aback by normal continent muggles.

This role play will follow 8 year old Emma as she starts wetting the bed, and progressively gets in more and more situations that leads to her being put back in diapers full time. Meanwhile her little sister Ashley is 4 is finally potty trained. Judy their 28 year old single mother isn't horribly disappointed when her oldest is back in diapers again. I'll be playing Emma, I'm looking for someone to play Judy and we can share Ashley. If you'd like to join me please respond with full paragraphs unless a situation calls for otherwise.

In a small one story house just outside of a small town in New York state live a small family. Akiza a tall brunette single mother with two daughters, Alice age 8, and Anne age 4. They are are a happy family Akiza runs a daycare in town, Anne who is a little tall for her age like her mother is fully potty trained and doing well in preschool, Alice is more like her departed father even though she's 8 she's only about as tall as most 5 year olds which can make life a little difficult not only being a big sister to Anne whose half her age but almost as tall as her but also in second grade where she tries hard to fit in. Of course still being the only bed wetter out of the two sisters doesn't help at all either. Its 7am and the girls are just about to be woken up by their mother. Anne is in her yellow Belle themed bed wearing princess on her night gown, while her big sister on the opposite side of the room in wrapped up in her frozen themed blanket wearing a frozen themed nightgown and a soaked leaking goodnite. This is the 4th morning in a row that her goodnite has leaked, her and her mommy have been discussing getting "better protection" for her but Alice has been stalling mommy on that because she knows those extra thick diapers on the TV commercials is what her mommy means by that.

After weeks sending countless messages on online dating websites only to receive no response, I was beginning to lose hope and become burnt out. Until she messaged me back. Misskiwi was professional and ambitious. A career woman with a long and articulate write up on her profile. I was a guy wondering what she'd want to do with me. My hopes surged as we chatted, she was affable though exacting and stubborn. I could live with that. I find out her name, Nora. She wanted to meet up and go for a walk at a busy park nearby. I agreed, of course. Things seemed to be looking up. A few days later, I found myself sitting down on the park bench she directed me to carefully. I waited. She was nowhere to be seen. I wondered what was up, and glanced over at the empty spot next to me. There was a medium-sized package. I figured someone must have left it there by accident, and they'd be back for it soon. I continued to wait. About fifteen minutes later, a curiosity mixed with boredom and disappointment got the better of me and I leaned over to look down at the package. It was addressed to Nora. Not only that, there was a small, handwritten note taped expertly onto cardboard. It had neat and feminine writing with soft, round lines on it. Could it be Nora's? I scooched over and began to read: "I had to run at the last minute, I'm really sorry. Business calls. We'll meet soon, okay? I meant to give you this in person, but this will have to do for now. Don't open the box until you get home! It's important." I made my way back home, box under my arm pressed against my ribs. It was surprisingly light. All I could do as I walked was wonder what was inside. The same moment I got into my apartment, I was opening the box, deeply curious about its contents. Then I saw it. It was a package of adult diapers. What? I sat there in silence, struck by the strangeness of it all. Slowly a mixture of humiliation and excitement rose inside me, a combination I wasn't used to feeling together. I wondered if the smell coming from inside the box was Nora's perfume scent. It was somewhat intoxicating. Why? Had she just wanted to play a joke on me? I took the package of diapers out of the box, and noticed another note underneath in what I presumed was Nora's handwriting. "No, this isn't a cruel prank. It's a test. A pretty harmless and quick test. You just have to trust me. Meet me for a video chat at 8:30 pm sharp. Be in a diaper. You really must be wearing one. I promise I'll reward you. ❤️ Nora" I felt excitement tinged with humiliation rising in my chest. I had to do it. I had to see what she had in store for me. What did I really have to lose? I'd been trying to get a date for weeks without any luck, and suddenly this mysterious woman enters the scene and has me feeling something. It's worth a try, I thought. So after some dinner I opened up the package of diapers and unfolded one. Laying down on my bed, I did up the side tabs carefully and made sure the fit was snug around my groin. They felt nice, a bit like a pillow around my crotch. I slid my shorts back up and sat down at the computer. They weren't very nice to walk in, the bulk was a little awkward and I was reminded of my strange situation each time the thick fabric grazed my inner thighs. It was 8:17. I waited. At exactly 8:30, she was on. Looking as composed as ever, she began to speak before I could quietly say hello. "Hello! Did you do it? Are you wearing one of your diapers?" She asked. "Yeah--just like you said to do. Why are we--" "Well, it's complicated." She bit her lip. "You want to hear the whole story?" "Sure, take your time," I replied. "First though, I want to really see that you're wearing it. Can you just show me the top of it, peeking out of your--that's it." I lifted my shirt, exposing the top of the diaper hiding beneath my shorts. "Okay, so here it is. I have had a lot of boyfriends in the past who have had bladder control issues. They were really leaky and drippy, some of them said their control got bad only after being with me. I think they were just shielding their bruised egos, but anyway, I don't really trust it." Was this lady crazy? Did she really think that just because she had problems with that in her past relationships, that it would somehow leak over onto me? "I don't have a bladder problem," I cracked a smile. She looked at me doubtfully. "I dunno. We'll see. There's another reason I need you in diapers. I need to make sure you're really committed to me. I've had a lot of bad experiences in the past with trust, and I want to know that you're really willing to go the extra mile for me. I'll go the extra mile for you of course, but first you need to complete this challenge for me. " "I dunno." I gave mock consideration, looking away as if I were deliberating. "Where's your diaper? Can I see it to make sure you're wearing it?" I watched as Nora reached down and began to lift up her shirt. Did she really have a diaper on underneath her jeans? Soon I caught a glimpse of the smooth, soft looking skin of her belly. She looked at me mischievously as she reached under her jeans and pulled up her underwear so I could see. She shook her head. "I don't wear them." "Well, I don't either. I'm not going to do it." I said. Nora seemed hurt by my response. She recoiled. "It's only for a few weeks," She began. "I don't want you to wear them for long if you don't need to. You don't even have to use them, you just have to wear them that's all. It's only a change of underwear you make it out like it's such a big thing..." "The answer's no." I said again. "Please?" "Look, I'm exhausted. I want to get to sleep, it's nearly nine and I have to be up for five thirty. I'll talk to you tomorrow." I blew her a kiss and left the chat. If it was unreasonable that her potential boyfriend says no to wearing diapers he doesn't need, then she'd just need to find someone else to be with. I took off the diaper straight away and set the rest of the pack out by the front door to be thrown away. After watching a few short videos on YouTube to unwind, I stripped down to my socks and underwear and went to bed. I noticed I had to pee pretty urgently as I laid down. I got up for the washroom quick and then fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. I was woken up by my alarm, and noticed something alarming upon stirring. I was laying in a puddle of my own pee! This hadn't happened to me in years. After a long moment sitting in disbelief, I got up and went down the stairs to the shower. It was pretty chilly on my boxer short-clad bottom from laying in an accident for who knows how long. I spotted the pack of diapers by the door. They could have helped, I thought. I tried to suppress that thought. I wasn't going to wear a diaper because I peed the bed once. If only Nora could see me now. After a long day I got home and hopped onto my online chat again. Nora was on. I messaged her immediately. "I'm sorry I didn't wear the diapers you got me, maybe I can--for you. It's only for a few days, right?" Sent. It only took a few minutes for her to reply. "I hoped you'd come around. It's okay. Just put on another diaper right now and then we can chat in video." I felt a pretty intense urge to pee just then, and I ran towards the bathroom with my unfolded diaper in hand. After changing in the bathroom, it was time to go chat with Nora. I was halfway down the stairs when I heard her trying to video call me. Only problem was, I forgot to put my shorts back on after changing! I figured it wasn't important, my lower half would be hidden from the camera anyway. I answered her call and was greeted by her smiling face. She was still in her work clothes, and looked intense but warm. "Hey Nora," I waved. She smiled and waved back. "So you got your diaper on?" I nodded. "Good. I only want you to wear them for two weeks starting today. That's all I ask, alright?" Remembering the sudden bedwetting incident the night before, I nodded. "No problem, it's not like I have to use them or anything." We chatted about our days, and made a reservation at a nice restaurant for our Friday first date night. Hopefully I wouldn't end up sitting in the booth, only to find another box of diapers where Nora was supposed to be. We finished our call, and I was surprised how much time had passed. It was already half past seven, and time to eat something. I got up, and felt an intense pang on my bladder. I had to go, right that moment. It was then that I remembered I had a diaper on. I'd almost forgotten it was there, silently hugging my crotch, waiting unobtrusively for accidents. I wasn't about to give my new underwear the release they were designed to capture. I jogged down the hall to the bathroom and struggled with the door, which I usually kept open. A few squirts began to drench the padding, and my sense of consternation and humiliation grew. Why is this happening to me, now? I got to the toilet and began to lose the battle even more with my bladder as I struggled to get my diaper out of the way so I could pee like an adult. I was too late. By the time I got my underwear unfastened, I had already noticeably drenched the inside of the diaper. I peed the rest into the toilet and then sat on the floor for a moment to regain my composure. What the heck was happening to me? At least I was wearing a diaper, I thought while looking at the bathroom's tile floor. Still clean. It was then that I realized I should put my diaper back on. It was bunched up beside the toilet, with the wetness indicator on the crotch faded blue. Better to get a clean one from the pack, I figured. I was a bit conflicted as I unfolded a new one a few minutes later and got ready to put it on. Why not just wear normal underwear for a little while? It's not like Nora would know. That seemed too dishonest. Plus, I'd already had two accidents in the last two days. Nora's prediction about always having boyfriends with bladder problems was beginning to look more and more believable all the time. But how is that possible? I fastened on my clean diaper and got cozy under some blankets in the living room. I turned the fire on, it was starting to get chilly in the evening. I felt an urgent pang on my bladder again after a small glass of wine and a water. Did I really want to get up? I kind of didn't. I used the diaper and continued to watch without having to lose my coziness. I wanted to be sure I wouldn't get too used to them, though.

I want to share a brief story with you all. A story about how I ended up diapered today by my girlfriend. Before I start, a bit of a digression. It's kind of strange to be a twenty something male and find yourself swaddled in medical looking pampers, I know. They crinkle and rustle if I try to covertly re-position the semi-erection that lives inside. These underwear make me a little too loud to do that. Trouble is, I haven't had much release in weeks. Let's start from the beginning. Rebecca and I met on a dating app after a few successful online dates. Things went pretty well at first. I hoped I'd be able to tell her one of my deepest secrets--that I like to wear diapers. I don't like to feel humiliated about it, I hoped she would simply indulge me from time to time. At most, she'd permit that I slide into one at night while nestled beside her, breathing in the natural scent of her long dark hair. It didn't work out like that. One afternoon she was out with her family for dinner, so it felt like it was a safe time to indulge one of life's simple pleasures. I slid on my disposable pants and a shirt before sitting down to play a nice role-playing video game. I was a masculine looking orc wielding a sword in the game--a skinny and gentle character with noodle arms in real life. I felt pee warm my butt on and off as the day rolled on, thinking nothing of it. Then, my Bexie Becca pulls up in the driveway. I thought it was a delivery driver. Big mistake. I was sitting on the floor like a child, totally immersed in my game, when I spotted her feet beside me. I jumped, and almost surely peed a little without meaning to. "You're in a diaper?!" she cried. "Why? Can't go to the toilet while you play your game?" I looked around anxiously for a second, feeling myself pee a little more through waves of fright. I had no idea what to say or how to face her. Just this morning I had seen her bottom in bed beside me in a plain pair of undies. I was sure that was going to be the last time. And tonight she'd offered to pay for a much needed grocery run. All of this after offering me some of the most kind and genuine emotional support I had ever received. I was beginning to cry before I knew it. She knelt down beside me and put her arm around me. "No--hey. Don't cry," she cooed, rubbing my back. We hugged. "I just don't want to lose you--I really like y-you." I sniffled. "It's okay, I'm not mad at you, I still like you--we're still friends, it's fine." She reassured. "Friends?" I began. "You don't want to break up with me, do you?" "No way! But there's going to be a few new rules I think." "Like what?" She looked dreamily up for a moment, her eyes darted from side to side, searching. "Hmm..." "I don't need to wear diapers or anything--" I blurted out quietly. "I think you do," she booped me on the nose. "Do you see how wet you are? You probably didn't notice--" "I noticed." I began, feeling uncertain. I paused for a moment in attempt to gather something that would convince her. All the while she stared at me curiously. "I like to wear them, that's all." "Well I know you like to wear them, you need to otherwise you'll get pee-pees everywhere," she teased. "Oh come on, it's not like that. I just like to use them sometimes--it's really relaxing and sensual." "I dunno..." She stood up and grabbed a game controller from the other side of the room and then plopped down beside me. I caught a glimpse of the waistband of her panties as she pulled her hair into a neat ponytail. "You wanna keep playing? I need to think for a bit..." "Okay, sure." I said, not feeling like I was in a position to argue. As we played I wanted to take my diaper off, but I didn't want to disturb the moment or bring her focus back to my soggy and padded bottom. She was apparently accepting this, for now. I couldn't complain, and I was still in a bit of shock from the incident. I played absentmindedly, and continued to dribble into my diaper when I needed to. About an hour later, she broke the silence by mooshing my very wet diaper with her hand. "This boy needs a change," she mused. "What? No--" "Let me get this straight," she said, looking me in the eyes intently. "First you say you don't need diapers, and then you sit in a dirty one in front of your girlfriend for an hour without getting up to change it?" There was a brief silence, broken by a slight hiss coming from my diaper. "While continuing to use it?" "I can change myself back into underwear after it's fine." I said quickly. "I said I had some rules for you, remember?" "Yea--" "Well here's rule one. When I want you in a diaper, you're going to be in one. It might be the case that you like to wear them, but, I'm not so sure. Even if I was, I'm not sure it's important." "What?! Why?" Alarm bells were beginning to ring in my head but they were silenced immediately after she began to speak. "Well you did use it pretty badly. Also if you like to wear them, I think it means you need them in a certain sense." She said. "Also, this is a pretty big thing, yeah? I'll accept your diaper wearing if you're willing to compromise. I have some needs too." I paused, trying to take in everything she'd said. "Okay." She continued without missing a beat. "So I need you to be settled in your little undies from time to time, as it suits me. Sometimes when we go out, I kind of wish you were in a diaper to be honest. You're always getting up to go to the washroom, even in the middle of the night. It wakes me up. Rather have my boyfriend's underpant be filled with pee than be woken up." "You mean I have to wear diapers to bed all the time?!" I began to raise my voice. "Calm, dear. Listen. You'll like it. You already enjoy wearing these, right?" She rubbed my wet diaper delicately, causing my sensitive area to twitch slightly. "I'll give you diaper-free nights too. It's not like it has to be all the time, compromise." "Well--okay," I replied. "Are there any more rules?" "There is another. You know I'm not often in the mood for sex. When you're in diapers, we might not play as much but don't worry, I'll still get you off." "Is that it?" "I think so, for now." "Well, I guess I can adjust." "You'll have to. I want you to run out later to grab some errands. I'll give you money, there's a bit of a long list." She stood up and hiked her leggings up so they were snug. "You're going to go there in a clean diaper. I need to change you." "Why can't I do it on my--" "Rule three." She said, looking down at me sitting on the floor. "Fine," I said, standing up beside her. "Change me now then, let's get this over with." "You think you can boss me around? You're the one with a wet diaper sagging between his legs." "Well--" I stood there, struck dumb. She'd really taken the wind out of my sails. She smiled, seeming to know this. Wordlessly I allowed her to take my hand and lead me to our bedroom. "Where are your diapers?" I pointed towards an end table I made with a door on it that lacked a doorknob. The perfect hiding place, at least until today. "Good." I watched as she produced one of my diapers from the breached hiding place. Laying me down, she began to change me and I didn't resist. "They sell this brand at the drugstore. That's great, you can get some more while you're out. Don't use the toilet while you're there--that's rule four... No toilets for you until I take you out of diapers." I wasn't sure how to feel about that last rule, I was shoved out the door in a state of mild shock, dressed in a usual sweater and jeans that hid well the pleasant but taboo underwear underneath. At least I was dry now, though it was raining outside. I rushed to the car and got ready to go. It felt weird to grab a bag of diapers for myself on my girlfriend's purse. I was starting to come around to the new arrangements, but that didn't last long. I found myself in a sodden diaper every morning for about two weeks. There I slept encased in my own pee while my lovely Becca was soundly asleep in thick cotton panties. I tried not to wake her as I wet myself silently beside her, with my arm still wrapped around her belly. I hadn't had any release in that time, aside from her rubbing my diaper. It didn't work very well at first, and I was dying for release. As the days rolled on her sensual touches became more and more precious, until I was like putty in her hands when she felt like rubbing me. I did finally get that release yesterday into my diaper, and I nearly passed out after it happened. Seeing and feeling Rebecca rubbing her yoga pants butt against my slightly soggy diaper was too much. Yesterday she decided it was going to be a diapers-free day. After weeks stewing in my own potty, it was pretty nice to finally be free of it. I didn't want to be in diapers that badly any longer, but she usually knows best. In the middle of the night I woke up to her telling me it's okay to have accidents. It took a minute or two for me to realize I'd peed the bed a little without my dependable diapers on. Today, I'm padded again. Not sure for how much longer. Rebecca says it's only for a few days. I just need to stay dry for four nights in a row. Today she rubbed her butt up against my diaper again. Before long I was shivering and shuddering in release. I leaned into her afterward as she sat beside me and felt another small flood beginning in my diaper as usual.

This is my first time writing a story here, and to be honest, I probably should have started with something a little smaller, not some big multi-part thing I haven't entirely written yet. ----- RegCon An ABDL & Regression Story Chapter 1: Plenary Angel Ballroom, Day 1 Good morning everyone. I didn’t catch that. I said good morning everyone! I’m John Krug, President of the National Coalition for a Second Childhood. Parents—mommies and daddies—on behalf of the NCSC, I would like to welcome you all to the Seventh Annual Regression and Rediapering Convention and Expo! Welcome to RegCon! As I look out on this room of over two thousand loving and doting parents and caregivers, ready to usher their babies into the adventure of regression, ready to take the serious commitment to diaper-train their children, unleash their inner littles, and give them the delightful gift of Second Childhood, I can’t help but swell with pride of how our little gathering, in just a few short years, transformed from an impromptu meeting in a public library community room, to a burgeoning movement! I see a lot of new faces and blue ribbons in the audience this morning: First-timers who want to learn more about how regression can benefit their children and help them redevelop the innocence they lost, and how to make that dream a reality. Now I know many of you will be a bit apprehensive about everything you’re going to see here. There’s a lot to take in, and the regression journey is not one one to be undertaken lightly. Perhaps you’ve heard neighbors, friends, coworkers, or relatives tell you all about how regression improved your children’s lives. And perhaps you’ve seen wild and lurid “exposés” spreading all sorts of wild tales. But let me tell you, as you’ll all learn over the next three days, and over the coming years, you are making the right choice. For yourselves, for your little ones, and for your communities. Give yourselves a hand for choosing to crack through the wall of misinformation and learn about the love of rediapering! And I also see a lot of old friends and yellow ribbons: repeat convention-goers. Ask them. Ask why they came back, how regression benefited their babies, how they were able to compel the unwilling to transform into laughing, bouncing, carefree kids! Because this isn’t just a convention. This is a community! Know that there are tens of thousands around the country and around the world, ready to lend a hand. Every year, we do our best to create an atmosphere of learning and collaboration for new regressors and practiced hands alike, as well as hearing from some of the world’s utmost experts in regression techniques and technologies, to help you develop a comprehensive, customized plan, to guide your littles to lose their potty training, their adult worries, their sexual urges, and their troublesome independence and rebelliousness, fostering a closer connection with YOU! Every time your little one wets or messes their diaper, or begs to watch Planet Ashley instead of the newest monster drama, or chooses to obey mommy and daddy instead of striking off, your closeness and love will only grow. This will be a deeply rewarding adventure for all of you! And repeat conventioneers know that if their littles’ regression is starting to fade, we also have aids to reinforce their babyish feelings and keep them close at mommy and daddy’s side. And yes, even if you’re starting to toy with the notion, as caregivers, that it’s time for progression, we can help you decide whether the time is right and guide your little to well-adjusted adulthood. The next three days are going to be very exciting, for you, and for us on the Steering Committee. Even though RegCon only lasts three days, for those of us who stage this event this is a job that lasts all year. I’d like to now ask all the Steering Committee members to please stand and be recognized. I would now also like to acknowledge the Convention Sponsors who helped to make these beautiful facilities a reality for us. We could never stage this event without their support. Specifically to recognize our Diamond-Level Sponsors: K&C Home Products, makers of the adult-sized Cutiez® diapers, Sleep-Tite® bedwetting underwear, and Daisy Girl® accident pants; VidiNet, who will be announcing a new season of regression-optimized streaming content; And the Rosebriar Academy, offering intensive diaper training and finishing discipline to young ladies who need to become little girls. A few housekeeping points before we move forward: If you haven’t already done so, please be sure to register and grab your convention badge at registration out front. As I mentioned before, attached to your badge will be one of these stylish colored ribbons, identifying you as a first-timer, or maybe a practiced hand. Keep an eye out for orange or red ribbons; those are to identify convention staff and volunteers. We’re here to help! We’re asking you all to wear your badges visibly at all times; there are a few types of people we wouldn’t want roaming the halls here. On that note, we are expecting a small protest again this year. Convention and hotel staff are coordinating with the local police to make sure everything remains peaceful. I want to urge you all, don’t try to engage with any of the protesters. If you did bring your littles with you, it goes without saying, take extra care that they aren’t exposed to any of the ugliness outside. Not only will it confuse them and potentially damage their regression training, but, and I want to stress this has never actually happened before, there is a small chance one of them might try to “rescue” your baby. As you should know, in all our convention literature, we advise parents not to bring their littles to the convention, pre- or post-retraining. Un-regressed children might panic and try to flee or disrupt their peers’ progress. And even for a docile, fully-regressed baby, we just don’t have the resources to care for them here. There are no public changing facilities, and we don’t have a day care. Now we all understand that, when you’re caring for a little one, it’s not always easy to find a sitter, or plans fall through. Just understand that you are responsible for your child. All right, enough with the downers! Are we ready to get started? C’mon parents, it’s not that early in the morning! Are we ready to get started?! We have a jam-packed agenda for this year’s RegCon! Later this morning, Dr. Kathy Willett from Galbraith University will share some of the latest techniques in regression hypnosis, using bedwetting and daytime accidents as a departure point for full-time rediapering. She’ll also be talking about how understanding your child’s psychological makeup can help you set a more effective regression roadmap. We will also hear from Clint Jones, recently-retired Sheriff of Mason County, and his observations on how Second Childhood has worked wonders to rehabilitate habitual youthful offenders into happy little citizens. Sheriff Jones has become one of the biggest proponents of regression as the best way to keep rebellion from turning into recidivism. This afternoon, there’s going to be a dozen researchers on our popular pharma panel, talking about new developments in drug regression therapy. Gone are the primitive days of using muscle relaxers, diuretics, and stool softeners to force wetting and messing. Integrated regimens tailored to your little’s body chemistry get better, more natural results, without all the side effects. Plus, rapid developments in nanobot therapy! That’ll be exciting. Regressing and rediapering your baby is not something you have to do alone! This year, our exposition hall has been split in two! We have an upper and lower hall with a combined 230 vendors, offering everything from diapers, to baby clothes, to furniture, to harnesses, punishment tools, and local regression clubs around the country. You’ll want to take some time to weave through all the booths, so plan accordingly. One newcomer to RegCon this year is VidiNet. They’re going to showcase some of the new children’s programming they’ll be debuting for streaming, and a lot of it looks great. But what I really think is exciting is some of the parental control tools they’re planning to release next quarter that can allow you to alter and tailor their content to fit your baby’s regression needs. We won’t be fighting against pop culture anymore! Our keynote speaker for the Seventh Annual Regression and Rediapering Convention is Florence McKnight. Mrs. McKnight has really become the public face of the regression movement, through her video and social media presence. We’ve all gotten to watch as her 20-year-old daughter Isabel has metamorphosed from a stressed-out pre-med student to a sweet bubbly little toddler. I know there are more than a few people joining us here today who would never have considered regression if they hadn’t gotten to witness this amazing change, and we are honored that she’s going to share her wisdom with us tomorrow! And last, but certainly not least, year after year the most popular part of the convention, our regression roadmap workshops! Every year, it’s always a bit of a strain to make sure we have enough space for everyone who wants to develop a plan to regress their babies. But we pulled a rabbit out of a hat again this year and anyone who wants to train a new little, or wants to reinforce training on their current littles, will be able to find a seat. They’re not always going to be at convenient times, so sign up quickly! If you haven’t already done so, you can reserve a seat at the table next to registration. This is a wonderful opportunity to plan out how you’re going rediaper your child and encourage them to start wetting, the tools and techniques you’re going to use, the checkpoints to watch for, the support system you’ll have to help you both along, and, because it’s always good to have a plan until it falls apart, strategies to get back on track and adjust to changing conditions. If you do nothing else at RegCon, be sure to take this workshop! We’ve put together the best convention yet this year, and I’m excited to see not only how our event comes out, but the next group of littles freed from the pressures of adult life and shepherded into Second Childhood. We are embarking on a magical journey. There will be challenges and trials, but the joys of a babyish mind and rewards of tending to it make it all worthwhile. And before we break into sessions, workshops and panels, I would like to play for you a brief recorded message from someone very special to me. Her name is Janey, and she is my baby daughter. A week before she was to graduate high school, Janey overdosed on Adderal trying to study for exams, and had to spend time in rehab. Like too many young men and women today, she was under so much pressure to be perfect and edge out the competition that it nearly destroyed her. And that nearly destroyed me. But by some miracle, my wife and I discovered a small regression club in our home town. Like many of you, I thought it was crazy. But the alternative looked like a decade or more of moving in and out of halfway homes, so we took a chance on our little girl’s happiness. That was seven years ago, and the young lady who was once clamoring for pointless academic success has changed into someone better. Sweeter. Every morning, we wake our little angel and help her out of her crib. Our little fountain loves her diaper changes so much, not just because she can get comfy and dry, but she gets face time with the people who she loves, and who love her too. Getting to see the twinkle in her eye again after all these years, I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I want each of you to feel that same love with your own treasures. That’s our dream. Janey couldn’t come here today, but there’s something very important she wanted to tell you: “Hewwo evwybudy! Have fun at da coveshon!”

This is similar to a recent post by @DLJeff52about “oh” moments. I’m sure those of us who used to be continent ABDLs will appreciate why I bring this up. For most ABDL’s, wearing diapers is something special that we excitedly indulge in, not to mention the taboo aspect of wanting to wear diapers. And yet here I am: “Stuck” in diapers, hopefully for the rest of my life. Anyways yesterday evening I went to change on my bed, I took off my diaper already but then I got sidetracked looking at something online that popped up on my phone. In comes my vanilla partner (they are very accepting) who noticed I’m not changed and I don’t have an incontinence pad under me. Annoyed, my partner admonished me to put my phone down and change before I leak. Honestly I wasn’t that worried about leaking because I had just voided a ton right before then and I was almost done with the article so I figured I’d probably be okay for at least a few minutes. But I thought better of arguing this point and went and diapered up. So yeah, it’s still weird to be told to diaper up quickly by someone else out of a genuine fear of leaks. ?

Curse of the Crinkle Crate Composed by Horatio Husky Featuring and Commissioned by Kazard the Fox! Chapter 1 The Box I… Want… Couch Time… Now… were the thoughts of a certain blonde-haired fox, as he absentmindedly fumbled with the keys to his small, cozy home. His shoulders were slumped, and his eyelids half open in a vacant stare as he maneuvered his key into the lock of his front door. The day had been absolutely miserable, all of his clients had been in a bad temper when he spoke with them about their problems, and one of them even seemed to believe that the fox didn’t really know what he was doing. Of course, he knew what he was doing! He’d graduated top of his class by no small miracle, the fox was very talented at his work, but the lack of appreciation and frustration that was thrust upon him by his clients was not something studying could have prepared him for. At last, the key turned, and the door swung wide open, shouldering his bag he strode inside and carelessly dropped it in the front hallway, kicking off his shoes and closing the door behind him with a click, locking it once more. Give… Me… That… Couch… thought the fox once more, as he strode into his living room. However, his couch did not seem to be on the agenda just yet, for the fox almost tripped over a wooden box in the center of the room. Kaz was taken aback, how had this gotten in his home? He didn’t remember lugging a rather plain, heavy looking wooden box into his home. Its dimensions were around two feet by two feet, and a foot and a half tall. Kneeling down, his tail now twitching with apparent interest and curiosity he inspected it closer to find that its lid was hinged, with the front opening to the container facing towards him. What on earth… Did somebody break in and leave this here? He thought to himself, as he reached forward with a paw and tentatively opened the strange box. The lid thumped onto his carpet as he gazed into what was held within the strange item, and was even more confused to see that the box only contained two items in it. A thick square of plastic upon closer inspection Kaz found to be a white, adult diaper, and a note next to it, written in fancy cursive. He picked it up, his eyebrows furrowing as he perused through a short poem, a strange feeling of warmth he didn’t recognize bubbling up in his insides as he did so. For a year and a day obedient shall you be, To the rules and whims of the box at your knee, Letters and rules shall be provided from these wooden confines, Giving you instructions, tasks, items, and lines, And lest you not listen to my behest, Shall you not have your day-to-day be the best! For control and independence are no longer yours From now you’ll always be clad in diapers! Diapers? Control? Is this all some sort of prank that got delivered into my house that one of my friends managed to sneak in? He turned the note over and found that more was written on the back of it, this time not in the mysterious cursive font as on the front. The rules are simple, Kazard. For a year and a day you will be completely unable to control your bladder nor your bowel, making it that at any time whatsoever, you will completely and utterly mess and wet yourself anywhere you are. Within this box, you will find your solution to this new conundrum in your life, which you have agreed to participate in by opening this box. Whenever you open this box you will be supplied with plain white diapers perfectly matched to handle whatever punishment you give them. It is recommended that you also invest in other supplies related to padding, such as powder and anti-rash cream, but those are up to your discretion. You may try and not wear your diapers, but you will find that it is wiser to comply with the rules and keep yourself nice and secure; your continence will not return either if you do not obey the rules set before you. If you wish to communicate with the box, you must do so through a bargain written on a note to express your wishes. However, be warned: the box is liable to interpret and balance any request or boon as it wishes if whatever you offer is not of equal value, so it may be wisest to obey as instructed and keep yourself diapered at all times of the day, otherwise, the consequences will be severe. With that, we hope you enjoy your next trip around the sun padded up! This has to be a joke… Boxes that interpret poetry and supply diapers whenever opened? This isn’t even a funny prank, this is pathetic. The fox dropped the diaper and note back into the box with contempt, what a stupid thing to waste his time with. He got up, the couch now forgotten as his stomach rumbled its hunger aloud to the room. He padded over to the kitchen, turning the kettle on and rummaging through his dry food cabinet, retrieving a large bag of chips. He held the bag in his maw as he stretched, reaching up to the higher shelf to grab himself a chocolate bar. It was just out of his reach, and he strained, leaning against the counter to support his weight as he grasped after his sweet. The counter must have been wet, however, for he looked down as he felt something damp against him. The bag of chips dropped out of his mouth and onto the counter below him. The counter hadn’t been wet, no. It was he who had gotten wet.

Kinda short and sparse. First in the series here, but those on reddit can see earlier Felix and James stories in /r/ABDLStories. “You wanna wear a Goodnite?” James pulled one out of the pack in Felix’s suitcase. He already had a diaper in his other hand. “I think I’d better. No excuse for bringing a messenger bag on a whale-watch, and I hate not having a change.” “Okay, if you’re sure. Your mom said it was a bit of a drive.” James held the training pants open and Felix stepped into them. “Want me to bring an extra, just in case?” “Where?” If James was bringing a bag anyway… “Jacket pocket.” Felix shrugged. “Sure.” The Goodnites were already ‘just in case’, but if he did have an accident it would be nice to have a dry one to change into. The whale-watch had been Felix’s mom’s idea, a fun adventure for their engagement visit. It was touristy, but James had never been, and neither Felix nor his parents could remember the last time they had. “Can I drive?” Felix asked his dad as they loaded the car. Seeing the soft cooler and beach bag his parents had packed, he felt a little regretful he’d forgone better padding—maybe his “messenger bag” would have slipped through unnoticed after all. But getting to drive his dad’s very fast car for over an hour would be some consolation. One of those privileges that only grown-ups get but only littles can truly appreciate. “Nope,” David said, getting into the driver’s seat with a smile. Felix sighed and got in the back with his fiancé. “Excited to see some whales?” James asked brightly. “We might not see any,” Felix answered. “But I am excited,” he added, not wanting it to seem like he was pouting about not getting to drive. “And we’ve had pretty good luck in the past.” James handed him the shared coffee thermos and he took a long sip. “You’ve never seen one, right?” “Only at Sea Word.” “Those don’t count,” Felix said authoritatively. “Those are just big dolphins. Panda dolphins.” “Panda dolphins?” James raised an eyebrow. “Panda dolphins,” Felix repeated, taking another sip of coffee. “Humpbacks are where it’s at.” He saw his mom roll her eyes, and wondered if he sounded too childish or just like too much of a know-it-all. He’d always been a bit of both, and loving as his parents were, they had told him as much. He felt his face growing warm, but James reached over to scritch discreetly behind his ears, and he calmed quickly. “Were you able to figure out the last time you went on one of these, Barb?” James asked. “No, never did,” she answered. “I don’t think Felix could have been in middle school yet.” Felix fidgeted. He always felt nervous and small when his mom and James talked about his childhood—which James was frequently keen on. He did like how the age difference was magnified as you went back in time: the last time he’d been on a whale-watch, James, if they’d known each other then, would have been old enough to be his babysitter. But there was something a little too knowing in how Barb sometimes answered her son-in-law-to-be’s questions. They arrived early—a virtual certainty with David driving—and decided to have an early lunch at the seafood snack bar by the dock. Not normally a big lunch eater—especially before noon—Felix couldn’t help ordering a plate of clamstrips. The deep fried bits of chewy shellfish had been his childhood introduction to mollusk-eating some twenty years earlier, and as a regional specialty of a region he no longer lived in, they were more of a treat than ever. He shared a few with James, and, not wanting to let any go to waste, polished the rest off himself. “Why are they called clam ‘strips’?” James asked. “No stomachs, just the necks.” Felix answered. “But I wonder what they do with the stomachs. Whole clams are good too but I wouldn’t want a plate of just the stomachs.” “Use ‘em to make stock, I bet.” David offered, wisely. We’d better get on the boat,” he added, standing up from the picnic table. “Okay, lemme go to the bathroom first.” “There’s one on the boat.” Felix looked over at the ticket building. He felt like he’d have to sit on the potty soon, and that would be a lot more comfortable on dry land, where the bathroom floor didn’t move beneath you. But they couldn’t risk missing the boat, so he shrugged and let his dad lead the way. The boat was built for a hundred and fifty passengers on two decks: the lower mostly enclosed, and the upper entirely open. Felix noticed the two single occupancy bathrooms (“heads”, he reminded himself) on the lower deck, “amidships”, near the stairwells. They found four seats together on the open deck, near the bow and facing the outer rail. It was the coldest and least comfortable place on the ship, but the best for spotting whales. When they were sitting and David and Barb distracting each other, James leant to whisper in Felix’s ear. “Do you still need to go potty?” Felix shook his head. “It passed?” Felix nodded, nervously checking that his parents hadn’t heard. James patted his knee. A few minutes later, the ship began to move. “At last the anchor was up…” David said, apparently racking his memory. “The sails were set, and off we glided. It was a short, cold Christmas...” “What?” James asked, looking over in confusion. “Pretty sure he’s quoting from Moby Dick,” Felix offered. Given that it was March, he hoped it was that and not dementia setting in. “The Pequod does set sail from this very harbour…” “We know, dad,” Felix said. He knew, anyway. He reminded James of the whaling museum and the little whalers’ church they’d seen the last time they’d been to New Bedford. David extolled the virtues of reading Melville for the next few minutes, and Felix closed his eyes, leaning against James for warmth. He woke up to several sensory inputs vying for his attention. The most present was James nudging him awake and telling him to get up and look at the whales. A loud PA speaker was telling him the same thing, but his gut was telling him there wasn’t time for that. “I gotta go potty,” he told James groggily, and a little louder than he meant to. But between the PA and the passengers, there was plenty of audio cover. “Oh no, not yet,” James told him. “If you go now you’re gonna miss the whales.” Felix stood up and, glouring, walked a few feet to the rail. James had been entirely right. Three humpback whales were swimming beside the boat, less than one hundred yards away. Two of them could only be seen as dark forms beneath the waves, but one was at the surface, exhaling and spraying water higher than the deck of the ship. “Anyone got a harpoon?” Felix asked, looking around at James in excitement. His gut churned and growled but he ignored it. Even if he did have an accident, he was wearing training pants. It would be worth having to change them to see this. As the exhaling whale dove, another took its place at the surface. It seemed to everyone on the ship that the pod was putting on a show. Just as the excitement began to fade, the smallest dove and then rose fast, breeching in full view and turning over to fall on its back into the waves. It was utterly engrossing. After a long, wonderful eight minutes, the whales dove once more and weren’t seen again. With a satisfied sigh, Felix came back to his body. He had to go now. “Okay, I’m gonna use the head,” he said, trying to sound casual. It wouldn’t be safe to run anyway. He turned and walked, clenching, down half the length of the boat, turning into the stairwell that led to the head. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, his heart sank. There was a line, four people long—two of them women. He looked at one of the guys in the line and gestured towards the other side of the ship. “Anyone check the other...” The stranger nodded solemnly. The end of the line was outside, near the railing. Felix went there and took his place, but he didn’t have much hope. A minute later he was sweating, and the bathroom door was yet to open. He turned to face the waves, taking deep breaths as his will to actively clench began to fail. He felt only a small mass drop into his training pants, but like pulling a plug, it was followed by a rush of liquid. The woman in front of him glanced back at him for a moment, but with all the sounds of the ship, she couldn’t be sure what she heard. Felix got out his phone. One bar, then two, then one. He texted James. “Can you bring me that spare pull-up?” James replied with a smirking emoji. Felix replied with a red, glaring one. “On my way.” Well, that was something. Everything would be fine, as long as all that liquid… He reached down to feel the seat of his jeans and found two apple-sized wet patches. Turning his back to the rail, he pulled up the hood of his windbreaker and started to cry.

Hello! I would like to start a role play!. Would appreciate it if the responses during the role play were not short, and was detailed. The plot is, you are my new roommate, having just arriving at the house. A adorable little girl opens the door for you, as it was hard to believe that she was the roommate considering she's the size of a child. As the role-play goes on, she would have more and more accidents.

Makayla opened the door, hearing you knock, she was excited that she was finally getting a roommate. Opening the door, she stared up at you with a smile on her face. Their height difference was obvious, but she really didn't care. "Hi! Come in!" She exclaimed, backing up so you could come inside. "You must be my new roommate!" She said smiling up at her.

Hello All, I'm Biscuit. I live in northern Florida. I've been an ABDL of some form or another all of my life. Even at an early age, I remember being laser-focused on anything involving diapers and toilet training. It's odd, because so far as I know, I personally didn't have any serious training problems, as so many of us in the ABDL world do. My ABDL interests have morphed some over the years, but these days I mostly enjoy either being a dutiful big bro or a little boy around 4 or 5. Diapers are fun, of course, but to me nothing beats the drama of attempting potty training and failing. I look forward to meeting folks on the site.

*** disclaimer English is not my first language so pls forgive my mistakes Chapter 1 I m sitting on a marvelous couch in a 10 million or probably more dollars house in L.A.. Should be enjoying life right? Well if this were a year ago I would. My brother is set to come home any minute which is actually a good thing cause even though we technically don't share a dad and have a huge age gap , we get along great. We never really lived together much as he was older than me by 1.5 decades almost and started off his quite successful acting carrier early on meaning he is off in distant location filming his next film. So like I said if this were a year ago , I'd be thrilled to be hanging at Chris's place with him, But a lot happens in a year... Let me go back a little ... So I was young and stupid . It was about 8 months ago. Trying to impress some chick I met the night before. I m not even sure what made me get on that motorbike. Most of the events after that are a blur. Even the first days or maybe weeks kinda hard to tell in the hospital are nothing but hazy memories . Some memories are clearer than others. To cut it short I fractured bones, busted my right knee , got a concussion and to top it off a spine injury. I should make a pretty close to full recovery . That's what all the experts said. It will take months of rehabilitation and basically the least fun year of my life. Espcially as I just turned 21. Well I was kicked out of college 2 years earlier and my dad suddenly died 6 months after that so I guess I could say that my past few years weren't too much fun. Maybe that's why I was trying to impress girls so much . But back to the story - I did recover. Well almost completely . Thats the thing . Fractures healed. Concussion is gone. My knee is quite okay. But my spine injury left something behind. At first it wasn't obvious. Well at first I was bed bound for months basically . And I had a catheter. If you are lucky enough not knowing what that is its a tube going up to your bladder and draining your urine into a sack. Constantly with no control. Now that's the thing - the control. I thought it was temporary . So everyone said . But as time went by I had to realize that though most of the time I was fine it was not all the time. I started to wet the bed, not that it never happened before but most definetly not in the last 7-8 years. If that wasn't embarrassing enough - wetting my bed at the age of 21 at a rehabilitation facility where of course I was surrounded by young hot nurses... Well wetting during the night wasn't the only thing. As much as I didn't want to admit it I have "accidents" during the day. What do I mean by that ? Is that I could be chilling on the couch like am right now, have a sudden urge to pee and basically I can barely get to a tiolet which is right in the next door before bum I m standing in a puddle . The doctors still say it is likely to get better and I need to be patient. So now here comes the thing. Almost 2 months ago I was set to be released from the rehabilitation center. I'd be thrilled right . Just that I didn't exactly have a place to go to. As I said before I was young and stupid . No steady job no place of my own ( I rented but after the accident of course I couldn't pay rent) so it seemed like my only choice was moving back home with my mom. Don't get me wrong I love mom she is great . The thing is no one knows about these accidents. I mean of course my doctors and the nurses knew but not my family. I m the youngest of 3 and I grew up known as the baby of the family . And In certain ways I was always treated like that especially by my mom and sister. My dad never babied me but that's an other story . Chris was I guess as the eldest just protective , and in the past years he started treating me with much more respect . So moving back with my mom seemed like the logical thing to do however there are 2 buts. 1 as I said before she always treated me as her baby if she found out about my accidents especially with my sister around I'd never live it down. 2 she just got her first serious new relationship after my dad. So I wouldn't just have to hide my secret from her but from some guy I don't really know living there now. So when Chris offered that I could "crash" at his place and watch it for him while works while I get back on my feet was a god send. It made it easier to hide the fact that now I wear protection basically all the time . There is no one in the house now but Martha the house keeper. Luckily most of the protection I wear is quite discreet of course not the night ones nor the fact that one drawer of my dresser is filled with them rather than with underwear. But only Martha comes in to my bedroom from time to time and I made sure not to leave anything out in the open for her to see. We don't interact much. With Chris gone she doesn't have too much to do and as she is middle aged we don't have too much in common , and mostly cause the easiest way I know to keep things hidden is by avoiding having to interact with people for too long we pretty much stayed out of each others way. I m kind of paranoid that somehow people will know I m wearing protective underwear though to be honest it does look pretty normal and not very obvious . I should be really gretaful to Annie , 1 of the nurses who cared for me. She is maybe a year older than I m so having her changing my wet sheets or even worse taking my wet pants to wash was humiliating beyond words . She was the 1 who suggested I try absorbent briefs for men. During the day anyway. Night is a humiliation of another type. I m still not ready to use the d word. But she was quite good at making brand suggestions and it does so me to be quite doable to hide. So with all of this, accidents which luckily stayed hidden by my protection and things went fine. But now Chris is coming home. And he will be staying . Exactly how long I m not sure. Sometimes he is only here for a few days sometimes he takes a job in a series and stays for months . I m hoping he will be working most of the time. Cause as I said no one in my family knows, and if he stays for long it will be hard work keeping this secret.