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  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. Update. 1-2017 Because this is my own personal fantasy based on my life i often come back to this and rewrite certain things or add things here or there depending on what I'm into at the time so this is the most current rewrite version 2.0
  4. 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.
  5. This story has been on hiatus for but while I deal with ... life. But I'm picking it up again and getting back to more regular updates, so I figured I may as well start sharing it here as well. I've been a part of the Invader Zim fandom for a while, and there's barely any ABDL content there, so I had to fix that. Chapter 1: Once is an Accident ... i. “GAHHH!! FUCK YOU, GIR!!!!” The shout from the kitchen had Dib launching himself off the couch and sliding to a halt on the tile in his socks in no time flat. He was greeted with the sight of pink milkshake over every conceivable surface; the ceiling, the counter, the walls, the table, and all over both a thoroughly amused GIR and a very angry Zim. “Shit, Zim,” Dib groaned. “I told you messing with your PAK in the kitchen was a bad idea.” Zim’s PAK sat open on the kitchen table, half dismantled from Zim’s attempt at installing an upgrade. Zim’s body seemed to have shielded it slightly, but it was still spattered with sticky pink liquid. “I didn’t think he was gonna start the blender with the top off!! ” Zim shouted, aggravated, as he rushed to mop up the mess with his shirt before it seeped too far into his PAK. “I can’t put it back on like this!!” Dib checked his watch. He’d been keeping a countdown to make sure Zim’s PAK wasn’t off for longer than the ten minute maximum. “We’ve got eight minutes before it becomes a problem. GIR —” He looked over at the robot, who was currently trying to lick milkshake out of the blender, “— start cleaning up the kitchen.” GIR saluted and gave a shrill, “Okie dokie!!!” before dashing off to grab some towels. “My life is starting to flash before my eyes, Dib!!!” Zim whined as Dib grabbed a handful of napkins and briefly ran them under the faucet. “We’ve still got time, you fucking drama queen,” Dib admonished, shoving a the napkins at Zim. “Start cleaning up with those, and I’ll follow with some rubbing alcohol to make sure everything’s dry before you plug it back in.” Zim nodded and they quickly got to work. It wasn’t long before the tight space made their tag team effort more difficult than Dib had planned, however, especially as Zim’s coordination rapidly spiraled downwards. After watching him smear strawberry chunks around for an agonizing thirty seconds, Dib finally pushed his hands aside. “We’ve got five minutes,” Dib warned. “Let me finish this and you just try to stay conscious.” Zim’s skin was an ashy shade of green and his eyes were glassy and unfocused. Even when all he had to do was sit still, he was visibly trembling. “I don’t feel so good, Dib,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know, bug, but just hang in there.” Despite the tension in the air, Dib tried harder than ever to maintain a calm demeanor, reassuring Zim in dulcet tones while scrubbing away at the sticky goo spattered all over. Behind him, he could hear GIR mostly pushing the rest of the disaster around, and he was positive he was going to need to clean that up later, as well. As the minutes ticked down, Dib’s anxiety rose like a tsunami, threatening to crash down on him every time Zim moaned in discomfort. He was down to his last minute before he knew it, and there was still a cluster of wires he had yet to clean. It was just out of reach and if he had more than sixty seconds left, he would have grabbed a cotton swab to finish cleaning them off. As it was, he twisted a napkin to give it a bit of rigidity, and blindly stuffed it in while checking his watch. “Shit.” Thirty seconds left. He shook his head and pulled his makeshift cleaning device back out. “This’ll have to do, Zim.” He leaned over and hauled Zim up onto his lap. The poor little Irken was barely even responding at this point. With seconds to spare, Dib lifted the PAK to Zim’s back and the cables shot out to reconnect with the ports on Zim’s back. Zim’s eyelids fluttered and he groaned incomprehensibly, but as he squinted and rubbed his eyes, the color was beginning to return to his cheeks. “You feeling alright?” Dib asked nervously. That last spill had been worryingly close to an awful lot of connections. Zim nodded, sliding off Dib’s lap and onto the floor. He did a couple toe touches, stretched his arms, and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Yep. Everything seems to be in or—” A sudden zap of electricity made his body convulse and PAK spark. Dib watched in silent horror as Zim suddenly went limp and fell to the floor, antennae twitching twice before falling still. Before a single coherent thought could pass through Dib’s head, he jumped up and grabbed the silicone pot holders from the counter and used them to turn Zim onto his side. The Irken didn’t seem to be breathing, but it was difficult to tell for sure. Dib retrieved his phone from his pocket and held it under Zim’s mouth, waiting for it to fog up. When it didn’t, a sick knot of realization began to form in Dib’s belly. He had no idea how to give an alien CPR. He had a vague idea of Zim’s internal structure, but the question of how to restart things had simply never come up. And when even successful human CPR led to a few broken ribs, he was leery of injuring Zim further. “Stand clear.” The robotic, monotone voice sent Dib scurrying backwards in a panic. Had Zim’s PAK really just spoken ??? Was it allowed to do that on its own?? That question certainly hadn’t ever cropped up before in all the years they’d known each other. Another jolt of electricity arced between Zim’s antennae, making his muscles twitch and jerk for a few painfully slow seconds before he was still once more. Dib leaned forward, heart hammering in his chest and breath stuck in his throat. “Zim?” he whispered, reaching out with a shaking hand. Zim’s face screwed up and he let out a low groan before opening his bleary eyes. “S-sugar …” he mumbled. Dib fell forwards and hugged him tightly. “Oh thank fuck!! I thought you died!!” “Ow … I did ,” Zim grumbled. Dib sat up so fast he saw stars. “ What‽‽ ” Zim laboriously pushed himself up into a sitting position and rubbed his temples. “Well, I’m not dead now, idiot. My systems reset themselves,” he said thickly. “Death is rarely a permanent state, Dibby.” “God forbid there be a normal day in this household,” Dib sighed as GIR scooted by on a towel, oblivious and smearing pink stickiness across everything in his wake. Zim groaned and rubbed his head. “Getting reset depletes sugar reserves, so I’m going to need you to get me off this floor and grab me a snack before I keel over again.” Zim still seemed too weak to properly hold on to anything, so Dib lifted him in a bridal carry and carefully walked him to the couch. He set Zim down, propped up against the pillows, and gently touched a hand to Zim’s cheek. His skin was clammy and slightly pale, but at least he was obviously alive. “Are you gonna be alright?” Dib asked worriedly. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just grab me a glass of Tang and a couple sugar cookies,” Zim replied in much more subdued tones. Dib gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You got it.” He strode into the kitchen, but stopped dead at the edge of the tile. GIR was sprawled out on the floor, attempting to make milkshake angels. Dib sighed, edged around the kitchen, and opened one of the cupboards to fish around for a bucket. Once he’d located one — and dumped out all the junk it contained — he filled it with soap, water, and a bit of rubbing alcohol. GIR did better when the list of steps to complete a task was as small as humanly possible, so mixing the cleaning solution before handing the task off reduced the opportunity for errors. “Alright, you’ve had enough fun,” Dib said irritably, shoving the bucket at a thoroughly unphased GIR. “I don’t care if you strap sponges to your feet or make yourself a towel taco, I just need this mess gone.” “Caaaan dooooo,” GIR yelled, snatching the bucket from him and dashing towards the sponges as soapy water sloshed onto the floor. Dib skirted out of his way and busied himself with grabbing Zim’s requested snack. He returned to the living room with a plate of sugar cookies and Tang in one of GIR’s sippy cups. Zim gave the cup a slightly hard stare, but ultimately shook his head and didn’t question the choice. “So I was thinking,” Dib said as he carefully sat down beside Zim, “we should take it easy for the rest of the day, considering you died for around forty-five seconds. We can just hole up and watch some horror movies, get some soda and kettle corn into you, that sort of thing.” Zim snuggled against Dib, head on his chest. “Works for me. I still feel … Ugh , it’s hard to put into words,” he grumbled, taking a long sip of his drink. “Something feels off, but I can’t explain it.” Dib frowned, numerous worries occupying the back of his brain. “We could take your PAK off again and try to do a more thorough job of cleaning it out?” he offered. “Not right now,” Zim said, squeezing his eyes shut. “If you take too long, it’s going to be that much harder on my body. I’m really not in any shape for that right now.” He nestled in closer, as if proximity to Dib would fix things. “I just …” He looked up at Dib, concern scrawled across his face. “Hold me?” he asked, voice barely a whisper. Dib’s expression softened to one that was very nearly pity. Zim had a habit of being a pain in the ass and prickly more often than not, but he regularly demanded physical comfort whenever he was feeling less than stellar for any reason. “Yeah,” Dib replied gently. “But let me grab you some kettle corn and cocoa, first.” Zim shook his sippy cup and raised his eyebrows. “In a mug?” “In a thermos ,” Dib corrected. “I don’t need you spilling all over the couch when the kitchen is already a disaster.” An hour or so later, as morning spilled into golden autumn afternoon, the kitchen was finally clean and they were midway through one of Dib’s favorite horror movies. Zim sat snuggled under multiple blankets on Dib’s lap with a belly pleasantly full of warm drinks and sugary snacks. His color has finally returned to normal and he was no longer shivering. By all accounts, he was back to normal. Still, though, he couldn’t shake the feeling something was different . As he struggled to pin down exactly what or why , a sudden crescendo of music crashed through the speakers in a cheap jump scare, startling Zim back to the present with a horribly unwelcome jolt. He was suddenly glad that Dib had insisted on giving him all his drinks in containers with a top. He grumbled under his breath, ruffled, before settling back down against Dib, vaguely aware that the space between them felt a bit warmer than it had a minute ago. Beneath him, Dib shifted slightly, froze, then freed his arm from around Zim to blindly feel around under the blankets for a moment before coming to a rest. “Er … Zim?” “What?” Zim asked gruffly, still miffed that the movie had managed to startle him as badly as it did. “Did you lose your phone again? Because I’m not getting up this time.” Dib opened his mouth, let out a sort of strangled sigh, then bit the inside of his cheek, brow furrowed. “Did you … uh. Jesus, there is no easy way to ask this …” He pressed his palm to his forehead before spitting out in a single breath, “ Please tell me you just spilled your cocoa. ” Zim turned and raised an eyebrow, holding up his thermos. “No? Why are you—” As he shifted, he finally felt what Dib was talking about, and his eyes went wider than flying saucers. “ Oh my god , Zim,” Dib groaned, taking him under the arms and lifting him away like a badly behaved cat. As he stood up and the blankets fell away, there was no question what had happened. Both their pants were soaked, along with a sizeable portion of the cushion beneath them. Zim stood in a small puddle, dripping and purple-faced with embarrassment. “How did you not feel that??” Dib asked, more baffled than upset. “Everything was already really warm!” Zim insisted frantically. Dib gave him a look that was equal parts worry and horror. “You didn’t even feel like you had to go??” Zim tossed his arms up in frustration. “Do I look like I’m five?” “I’m not trying to be an ass here, Zim,” Dib insisted, trying to tone down his intensity to something Zim would find less offensive. “I just need to know if you had any idea this was gonna happen, before it happened.” “Of course I—!” Zim stopped mid sentence, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t gotten any of the usual signals. Not so much as a twinge. “I mean, I think … fuck.” He stared down at the puddle around his feet. “I … didn’t feel anything,” he finally admitted in hushed tones. Dib pushed his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose. “Shit. Alright. Well, first of all, you’re banned from screwing with your PAK anymore until we sort this out.” Zim shot him a snide expression. “You can’t ban me from fixing my own brain, Dib!” “Until we figure out exactly what went wrong? Yes, I can.” Dib glanced down at his soaked pants with a frown before seeming to give up and start unbuttoning things. “Just take all your clothes off here,” he instructed as he peeled away his wet clothes. “You take everything up to the wash. I’m gonna shower off and run out to the store real quick.” Zim paused in the middle of attempting to pull his socks off, balancing on one foot. “Why are you going to the store?” he asked, suspicious. Dib’s face contorted into something that was somewhere north of innocence and south of pity. Zim scowled back. “Why are you going to the store, Dib ?” he asked, enunciating each word with palpable malice. Dib held up his hands. “It’s just as an ‘in case’ measure, alright?” Zim sucked in a breath and puffed out his chest, blustering and fuming in what Dib could only imagine was very angry Irken. “It was ONE TIME !!!” he finally spat out, incensed. Dib nervously ran a hand through his hair. “Okay … and if it isn’t just one time?” Zim growled something under his breath, fists at his sides. “It might not be related to the issue with your PAK, but if it is, I’d rather be prepared,” Dib said simply. “You’re not putting me in diapers!” Zim snapped. “Fine. No diapers. But I am gonna grab a pack of pull-ups or something, just in case ,” Dib said as he tossed his underwear onto the pile, trying to remain blasé about the whole thing. Which was a difficult thing to pull off while naked and covered in piss. Zim spied Dib’s cock poking out of a thicket of hair and abruptly looked away before he could get distracted. Not to mention, he was vaguely concerned that getting turned on in wet pants might rewire him in an even worse way. He merely crossed his arms and faced away. “I’ll get you some snacks as a consolation,” Dib said as he turned to walk upstairs. “We’re almost out of Fun Dip, right? I’ll get you more of that.” Zim gathered the clothes and blankets and damp cushion with the help of his PAK legs to steady everything. He’d stupidly put his clothes-cleaning contraption upstairs, but at least he’d had the foresight to put it right outside the lift. The stairs were really just for Dib’s benefit. It was the only way the kid got any exercise, some days. Zim pulled aside one of the large speakers beside the TV to reveal the interior of an elevator, and climbed inside with his bundle. He reached the top just as Dib finished hosing himself off in the shower, and got to work loading the machine with all of the damp clothes and blankets. Dib dressed himself in a flash, hurriedly striding towards the stairs before Zim was even finished. “I’ll be back before you know it!” Dib called on his way down. Zim gave only a non-committal grunt. “Text me if you think of anything you want!” “Hmph.” Zim rolled his eyes and slammed the door to the washer shut, irritably poking at the controls until it chimed happily and began chugging away. Zim waited, one antenna perked, until he heard the front door close and lock behind Dib. His human would be gone for at least ten minutes, and ten minutes was all Zim needed to get back inside his PAK and fix this irritating little hiccup once and for all. ii. Dib’s truck rumbled along the road back home, the breeze from the windows making the bags beside him billow and snap. He caught a glimpse of the package contained inside and felt himself blush slightly. Although the situation was embarrassing and slightly worrying when it came to Zim’s overall health, Dib found that he was strangely un-squicked by recent events. Even though Zim had pissed right in his lap, he hadn’t really found the situation all that revolting. If he hadn’t been so shocked at the time, it might have even been a little hot. Zim, caught in an embarrassing situation, dependent on Dib to make things better … Dib shook his head to clear it as he pulled up to the base. He doubted he could get Zim on board with that sort of roleplay. But he could dream, at least. He killed the engine, grabbed his bags, and hopped out of the truck. Scattered leaves blew across his path, catching on the tacky lawn gnomes Zim still insisted stand guard outside. Dib would have been lying if he said he didn’t find Zim’s sense of decor at least a little amusing. He opened the door and stepped inside. “I’m back!” he shouted cheerily, kicking his shoes off. He started towards the stairs, then stopped dead. The whole base was eerily quiet, except for what he’d initially written off as the wind whistling over the roof. But as he stood there, barely breathing, it had begun to sound an awful lot more like sobbing. “ Zim ??” When there was no answer, Dib dropped his bags and raced up the spiraling steps. He came to a screeching halt at the doorway to their bedroom, where Zim was crumped on the floor, sobbing and sitting in a puddle of something that Dib would have bet money wasn’t tears. Nevertheless, Dib rushed over and scooped Zim up, hugging him close. “What’s wrong??” he asked, rubbing the small of Zim’s back in an attempt to soothe him. “I tried to fix it!!” Zim wailed, breath hitching in his throat. “The wires … they were all — hic!! — fused in the wrong spots. I tried to separate them, but … but once I put my PAK back on, it … it shorted out again. And … and when I woke up I — hic!! — I was on the floor and I know I just made it worse!!” Anger swelled in Dib’s chest for a moment, but it was quickly snuffed out by Zim’s obvious upset. There was nothing to be gained by cussing him out for his actions. He was already suffering the consequences. Plus, the sounds he was making were causing Dib heartache like he’d never felt before. All he wanted was to put things right. “It’s gonna be okay,” Dib murmured, hugging him tightly. Zim shook his head, face buried in Dib’s shoulder. “No, it isn’t !! I don’t know what’s wrong but something just isn’t right!!! ” It was hard for Dib to argue. He’d never seen Zim so worked up before. He’d seen him get a little teary over things or sometimes even cry out of frustration, but he’d never dissolved into such a thoroughly inconsolable state before. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can go back to taking it easy, okay?” Dib said softly. Zim took a few shaky breaths in an attempt to get ahold of himself. “Bath,” he finally mumbled, wiping his eyes. Dib was slightly taken aback. Zim usually avoided anything deeper than a puddle like the plague. “I was just gonna let you shower off, but yeah, we can do a bath, if that’s what you want.” He stood up and carried Zim to the bathroom, watching with growing concern as Zim buried his face in the front of his hoodie. He lowered himself onto the edge of the bathtub and turned on the taps, putting his wrist in the stream to gauge the temperature before plugging the drain and gently setting Zim down. “Get settled. I’ll be right back.” Dib made it to the stairs in a few long strides, descending the steps to retrieve two of the bags he’d dropped by the door. On his way back through the bedroom, he tossed one bag onto the bed, then carried the other with him back into the bathroom. He made it back up in time to see Zim adding a hefty amount of bubble bath to the water. “You’re really going all-in on this, huh?” Dib remarked as he put his back against the wall and slid to a sitting position next to the tub. Zim ducked his head nervously. “It smells nice.” Dib leaned on the edge of the tub and reached out to cup Zim’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “Yeah, it does. And that means you’ll smell nice when we’re cuddled up together on the couch, later.” Zim pressed against his hand with a soft purr, eyes closed, a contented smile on his face. Dib’s own sad smile slowly faded as the full weight of the interaction started to hit him. He felt like he was talking to a slightly younger Zim. At the very least, a Zim with all the usual sass and salt stripped out. And that had him worried, sure, but the worst part was, he knew full well that some part of him was enjoying the shift. Taking care of a soft, sweet Zim fulfilled some basic need he didn’t even know he had. Zim slowly opened his eyes, and the pink packaging inside the bag suddenly caught his attention. “Do I even need to ask what that is?” he said wearily. Dib gave a weak smile and finally pulled the package out of the bag. The front graphic showed an earth child in a t-shirt and what appeared at first to be purple underwear. It didn't take Zim’s earth-shattering IQ to be able to guess they weren’t that, at all. “I was a bedwetter for way longer than I care to say,” Dib admitted, cheeks going pink. “So I can personally vouch for this brand. Pluuuus ,” he added in a sing-song tone, “they’re purple and pink! Your favorite colors.” Zim stared blankly for a second, then puffed out his cheeks. “Wow, Dib. I didn’t think I could feel any more self conscious about this, but congratulations.” Dib deflated a bit and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, sorry. Just try to remember that it’s not for forever, alright?” Zim opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head, thinking better of whatever he was about to say. Instead, he grabbed a washcloth and thrust it at Dib. “There’s still some milkshake on my back,” he said quietly. “I can’t reach it myself. Can you …? Dib took the washcloth from him, dipped it into the bath water, and gently began cleaning him up. There were strawberries caked along the outline of his PAK, along with the general stickiness coating everything. Zim held uncharacteristically still as Dib worked, merely swirling his fingers in the water and watching the bubble trails. “Are you alright?” Dib finally asked after several minutes of silence. “Yeah, Dib. I’ve always wanted to start pissing myself at random. So, you know. Never better,” Zim replied dryly without looking up. “We could keep trying to fix it, you know,” Dib offered as he poured water down Zim’s back to clean under his PAK. “No,” Zim replied sorrowfully, “it’s not just the wires. Some of the chips are damaged, and they’re not like your computer chips. They’re grown, like crystals. So you can’t just slap a new one in there any more than you can take a slice of your brain and replace it.” He leaned his head against the cool tile, eyes closed. “There are tools to regrow broken chips, but I don’t have them. There’s a chance I could pick up what I need on Vort, but that’s not possible right now because of the political situation.” Dib silently wrung out the washcloth and set it on the edge of the tub. “So you’re …” “Stuck like this for the foreseeable future, yeah,” Zim confirmed, swirling the bubbles around with his finger. “And I don’t even know the full extent of what ‘like this’ is .” “You haven’t been losing any of your other faculties, have you?” Dib asked with a concerned frown. Zim shook his head. “No, I just feel weird. Different.” He pushed the water from side to side, watching the frothy waves bounce around the tub as he struggled to find the words. “Smaller, almost,” he finally whispered. “I just want physical comfort and … simple things. I don’t know …” Dib reached out and put a finger under Zim’s chin, making him look up. “You want me to take care of you?” he asked gently. As he looked into Zim’s eyes, there was no denying that something had permanently shifted. The Zim that sat in front of him seemed to be trying to take up as little space as possible. Everything about him seemed to cry out for affection, and Dib wanted nothing more than to give it to him. Zim bit his lip nervously before giving a small nod. “Y-yeah. Being taken care of sounds nice.” Dib leaned forwards and kissed him on his forehead, then sat back on his heels. “Good, because that’s what I was planning to spend the rest of the day doing, anyways.” Dib pulled the stopper out of the drain and shook out a fuzzy purple towel as Zim stood up out of the water with a shiver. In one fluid motion, Dib wrapped Zim up in the towel and whisked him up before the alien could protest. Much to his surprise, this got a genuine laugh out of Zim instead of the usual cussing-out. “Man, you are in some rare moods today,” Dib said as he kissed Zim’s cheek. Zim shrugged self-consciously. “I guess …” His blush made his freckles stand out like stars in a dusty desert twilight, and for a moment, all Dib could do was smile and take it all in. “You’re still going to make me put one of those things on, aren’t you?” Zim asked quietly, face falling as Dib set him down on his feet. “Sorry,” Dib murmured, in lieu of saying ‘yes’. “If it had just been the one accident, I wouldn’t push, but, well.” He shrugged apologetically. “Twice is kind of a pattern.” Zim dried himself off slowly, looking over the packaging that claimed the product enclosed “ looks and feels like real underwear! ” It was a bold claim that Zim wasn’t positive would be able to hold up under scrutiny. It also hammered home the fact that Zim was departing the realm of whatever “real” underwear happened to be, and he had no idea if -- or when -- he’d be returning. The uncertainty left a knot in his guts. As Zim finished drying off his legs, Dib ripped one end of the package open and pulled out something that certainly looked more like a diaper than any sort of adult undergarment Zim had ever seen. Dib handed it over and Zim, still skeptical, took it and examined it closer. At least Dib had done his best to get the good colors. But that was really the only bright spot. Zim pulled the stretchy sides wide enough to step into it, then shimmied it up until the padding was flush with his crotch. He wiggled it around a bit, noting the muted crinkle the thing made as he shifted. He looked up to meet Dib’s eyes. “This is a diaper,” he said with a wry look. “It’s just a pull-up,” Dib corrected. “Call it whatever you want, Dib,” Zim said with a sigh as he walked towards the bedroom closet. “Doesn’t really change what it is. You know. I know.” He gestured half-heartedly towards the packaging. “Even those lying marketing executives probably know.” There wasn’t much Dib could say to that, so he gave Zim a sort of well-meaning pat on the head, and went to dig through the dresser for a change of clothes. After changing into some ridiculously fluffy pajamas, they settled in for an afternoon of sugar and scary movies with the hope of taking Zim’s mind of what a disaster the day had been so far. Zim had been concerned that Dib would want to keep a bit of distance between the two of them, but instead Dib seemed to want him as close as possible. Dib tended to be fairly affectionate as it was, but tonight he was all but smothering Zim with his love, cuddling him and preening his antennae. “Normally I’d never say this, because I’m worried you’d rip my face off and wear it as a hat, but you’re really cute,” Dib murmured between cheek kisses. “I wouldn’t kick your ass for that,” Zim said dismissively. “You always assume I want to be referred to in hard, masculine terms, but I’ve never said that.” Dib raised his eyebrows in surprise. “For real?” “Yeah,” Zim said as he snuggled against Dib’s chest. “I’d like it if you called me cute more often.” Dib smiled and hugged him close. “How about adorable?” “Mm-Hmm. That one, too.” “Sweet?” “Literally and figuratively, yes.” “My little bug?” Zim stopped with a Fun Dip stick halfway to his mouth. Those words made all eight ventricles of his heart suddenly flutter so badly, he was momentarily convinced he was experiencing a cardiac event. Dib laughed nervously, “Alright, not that one. Message received.” Zim hunched his shoulders reflexively. “Um. Actually … say that one again?” Dib looked down, trying and failing to read his expression. “What? My little bug?” he repeated cautiously. Zim closed his eyes, a stupid smile spreading across his face. The words were warm and soft, like a blanket fresh from the dryer on a chilly fall evening. “Oh, you actually like that one!” Dib remarked, more than a little surprised. “I thought the silence was because you were too nice to tell me it was stupid.” “I’m never too nice to call you stupid , Dib,” Zim pointed out with a sidelong glance and a barely concealed smirk. “But yes, when you say that, it gives me the warm-and-fuzzies.” “Sure that’s not because you’ve peed yourself again?” Dib said under his breath. Zim gave him a swift elbow to the ribs for his trouble. “Be nice to Zim!” he groused with a scowl as Dib coughed and grabbed his side. “I’ve had a rough day. Asshole.” “ Fuck , I think you broke something,” Dib wheezed as tears sprung to his eyes. “ Good . Think of that next time you decide that making me feel like filthy garbage over something I can’t help is a fantastic idea.” Zim crossed his arms and leaned his way out of Dib’s lap, flopping against the arm of the couch. Well. There he was. That was the Zim that Dib knew and (mostly) loved. Dib rubbed his ribs gingerly, a sinking feeling in his guts. “Hey, I’m sorry, alright?” he offered gently. “I didn’t mean to ruin a nice moment. I … guess I was just trying to be funny.” Zim covered his head with his arms. “It’s not funny, Dib,” he said, muffled. “It’s one of the least funny things to ever happen to me!” His shoulders shook for a moment as he sucked in a deep breath. “… especially because it is wet …” he added, so softly that Dib almost missed it. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Dib said frantically, standing up and giving Zim’s sleeve a little tug. “C’mere. Let’s go take care of it.” Zim looked up miserably, wiping the corner of his eye on his sleeve. “I can do it myself, Dib.” “I know you can, but I said I was going to take care of you, so come here and let me handle things.” Dib reached down and made a little “up!!” gesture with his fingers. Zim gave an aggravated little snort, but eventually stood up and allowed Dib to pick him up. He wrapped his legs and arms around Dib’s body, clinging like a toddler, face buried in Dib’s shoulder to hide how badly he was blushing. “You’ve got to tell me when you need it swapped out,” Dib admonished gently as they ascended the stairs. “I was comfy,” Zim mumbled. “If that’s seriously the lie you’re going with, I’m gonna start checking,” Dib said with a warning glance. “Do you want that?” “Of course not!!” Zim sputtered. “It’s embarrassing, okay?? I don't want to draw attention to it.” “You know what’s more embarrassing?” Dib asked as he set Zim down on the floor. “Leaking all over me and the couch. Now, do me a favor and hold your shirt out of the way.” Zim sighed and lifted up his shirt as Dib deftly pulled his pants down and ripped the sides on his pull-up to take it off. He set it on the ground and pulled out a pack of wipes from the bag on the bed, then set to work wiping Zim down. It wasn’t as if Dib wasn’t already intimately familiar with all of Zim’s bits. They had a very healthy love life, and one of Dib’s favorite things to do was put his face between Zim’s thighs and absolutely go to town eating him out until Zim’s legs shook and he couldn’t see straight. But there was something altogether different about having Dib clean him up with all the gentle care in the world, absolutely devoid of sexual subtext. Or at least, that’s how it looked . “I’m starting to think you like this more than you’ve let on,” Zim said suspiciously. It was a stab in the dark, but it was also the only thing that explained why Dib seemed so completely unbothered by the whole thing. Dib shrugged. “I guess? Taking care of you kinda hits a special part of my heart just right,” he said with a genuine smile. “I don’t like that you’re in this situation, but as long as you are, I’d love to get to pamper the absolute hell out of you.” “I said no diapers, Dib,” Zim insisted nervously. “I mean I want to dote on you, dummy,” Dib said as he rolled everything up and brought it to the bin on the other side of the room. “Although diapers would make this whole thing easier. You wouldn’t need to take everything off in order for me to change you.” Zim whined as he stepped out of his pajama bottoms. “Not yet,” he said, a pleading tone to his words. Dib came back with a fresh pull-up, sprinkled with what smelled like lavender baby powder. “Suit yourself,” he said, holding the disposable underwear out in front of Zim. “Step into this, and then we’re done.” Zim put a hand on Dib’s shoulder for balance and did as he was told. “So that’s really it?” he asked as he straightened the leg bands on his hips. “You just like coddling me? You don’t have a piss fetish or anything?” Dib didn’t immediately answer, and when Zim looked up, his face was an indescribable shade of red. “ Oh my Tallest ,” Zim said, face falling. “I trusted you!” Dib fiddled with his glasses. “I’m not getting off on this!!” he insisted. A little too intently, Zim thought. “It’s more like … it’s cute??” he attempted desperately. “It’s weirdly emotionally intimate and it just makes me want to cuddle you, okay??” “So none of it is sexual?” Zim asked dryly as he pulled up his pajama bottoms. Dib tilted his head back towards the ceiling and gave a frustrated moan. “Ohhhh my gawd, alright . Look. Let me put it this way,” he said, face still on the red side of pink. “If we were fucking and you … um … you know …” Zim raised his eyebrows. Having a laugh at Dib’s expense was simply too easy. “ No . I don’t know.” Dib ran his fingers through his hair once, and then a few extra times for good measure. “Okay. Okay okay okay . If you … if you were inside of me, and you pissed …” Dib tossed his hands up on either side of him in a greatly exaggerated shrug. “I wouldn’t hate it , alright??” Zim thought for a moment, foot tapping as he watched Dib squirm out of the corner of his eye. “But would you like it ?” he asked, trying not to grin when Dib’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Gah!!! Yes, Zim! Is that what you want to hear??” he yelled. “That I fucking fantasize about having the balls to ask you to piss inside me and then fuck me in it?? ” A smile tugged at the corner of Zim’s face. He’d never seen Dib snap like this before and it was highly amusing. “Holy shit …” he whispered to himself. Dib continued on with his rant, unaware. “Because I do , alright?? I think that would be hot as hell , especially if you told me what a disgusting, perverted freak I am while you do it!!” He stopped gesticulating wildly and dropped his arms, panting. His glasses had nearly slid off his face and his hair was wild. “Are you happy now??? ” Dib demanded as Zim desperately stifled a giggle with his sleeve. “You have no idea,” he replied with a grin. “I’m not taking advantage of this situation, I swear ,” Dib said, still visibly flustered as he fixed his glasses. “You’re cute and I want to take care of you. I just also haven’t stopped seeing you as my partner so, if you want to still have sex…” He trailed off with a hopeful look. “That option is still on the table.” Zim stepped forwards and hugged Dib around the waist. “Good. Because I haven’t stopped enjoying the thought of being inside you.” Dib ruffled his antennae. “Perpetually on the same page. That’s why I love you.” Zim stepped back and made an “up!!” motion with his arms, an expectant look on his face. Dib rolled his eyes, but ultimately reached down to pick him up. “Alright, alright. One more movie, because I can’t say no to that look. But then we’re going to bed for real. It really has been a long day.”
  6. 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.
  7. 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.
  8. 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. ?
  9. 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.
  10. 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!”
  11. Part 1 Hi this will be different to most stories here I think and I would like to emphasize that there will be no "daddy" role here I will try to keep it as "realistic" as possible with the hope that people like this do exist out there . Wetting diapers etc will be plenty humiliation and abuse however only in flashbacks hope you will like it ps sorry for the bad English Court house ND Sunday 4:30 pm fall Chris Reynolds sat on a bench looking at the kid questioned by the judge . "My god " - he thought - "how did this ever happen. 2 months ago someone would have told me I have a kid running around I would have laughed . But this is insane. This can't even be happening ." He was mad. At whom he wasn't sure . Himself ? He should have made sure that 1 time before he enlisted with his childhood sweetheart didn't lead to anything . But really what guy keeps track of what happened to a girl he dated when he was 17? His fathers family ? Well all they ever did was lie. So he found out when he turned 18 and his long dead mother showed up at his boot camp. Patricia ? She could have bothered to tell him she was pregnant with his child ! Sure she was only 16 and probably under the influence of his family . The thoughts raced through his mind but something in the sadness of the brown eyes of that child wouldn't let go of him . He can't be a father, he never wanted to be one. He had his carrier succeful actor. Hollywood loved him . This could easily ruin him. His lawyer , also one of his closest friends told him that the minute the paternity test came back positive . But still something in him just couldn't sit there and watch. He knew if he wouldn't do something he will never live with himself . " I m sorry your honor , but maybe I have a better solution " - he stood up looking at the woman in the cape who looked rather annoyed than happy he disrupted her sentencing . "What the hell are you doing ?! Are you crazy sit the hell down " - Theo wishpered angrily , his loyal lawyer who sat quietly by his side tried to pull him back down to the bench but he wouldn't budge . "Yes Mr Reynolds ? What solution is that you claim to have for us " the woman's voice was rather strained but Chris was not the type to break a sweat over a woman's annoyance , no matter her status. " with all the respect he is barely 13 even detention centers require the minimum age of 14 . I m not saying he didn't commit crimes he should be punished for . But he is just a child . And all of this is more the systems fault and mine than his . " "So you are blaming the system for the fact that a 13 year old stole money disrupted someone's home and ..." "no your honor I m not just blaming the system I m also blaming myself but with all due the respect calling the police on a child looking for his mother is hardly disrupting a property " " so you are a lawyer as well now mister Reynolds as you seem so familiar with the laws " " no your honor I m not all I m saying simply is that I don't find the current solution of sending a child to a severe detention center because the system is over loaded . And that sentence is one that I m sure the appeal we will file won't agree with it " "appeal ? What are you talking about ? You can't threaten a judge you are out of your mind !" - Theo jumped to his feet "alright I will allow that however like I said I have no alternative " - the judge sighed though looked as if she rather sentence him too to prison " I think you will find there is. Release him to my custody " silence fell upon the court room . The judge studied the man standing before her . Determined for sure . Theo looked as if he couldn't believe what Chris just said . The kid turned his tear stricken face towards the man he for a few weeks now known is his biological father . "Release him to your custody ?" - the judge repeated as if retarically " my parental rights have never been revoked nor have I ever given them up. The social services did a complete background check I m sure it's in the files" the judge turned some papers infront of her unwillingly and had to agree . There was no reason the man couldn't get at least temporary custody over the child . And she had to agree releasing a child to the custody of a parent would seem much less harsh than back to detention where by law he would only be sent to under special Circumstances under which no empty beds in children's home not exactly fell under. "Your honor , this child is not a simple case " - Katherine the social worker spoke up in clear dislike " he can not just be released into a hands of a man who never had a child before and has absolutely no qualification to deal with a child with these behavioral problems " "I m sorry so my lack of parental experience should be compensated by locking him up in a closed facility where you send teenagers who murdered people ?" "Alright alright that's enough ! " the judge spoke up " I want order in my court room . God what a mess this is ! Alright alright let it be . I will allow a probation period . But if he gets into anymore trouble with the law it is straight detention ! " " I find that very reasonable your honor . Thank you " Chris smiled at the judge as he sat back down next to Theo who buried his head in his hands. " well I don't find this reasonable at all ! - Kathrine spoke up angrily -" he has been moved through 2 homes and 3 foster families and a detention center ! How exactly do you think you could control him ?! "- then with a smirk she added - " have you even changed a diaper in your life mr Reynolds ? Because in case you haven't noticed that is 1 more thing your son can not control " Chris felt his temper rise as he saw his sons face turning from pale to beet red. It wasn't hard to tell he was indeed wearing" protection" . But clearly announcing that out loud made him increadbly uncomfortable . " I will assure you ms Jenkins I have handled a lot worse serving in a war." Chris said in a measured voice "that is enough ! I m releasing Christian Patrick West to your custody . I want social services to reevaluate this arrangengment in a month I m sure you can handle that ms Jenkins with your superiors . Well good luck . Court adjourned ! " "do you have any idea what you have just done ?! "- Theo asked in an angry whisper. "This could ruin your entire carrier !" "Shut up Theo for real " Chris wishpered back as he made his way towards Katherine and his son . There was something about those brown eyes he couldn't quite make out . He seen it before overseas , fear . The child was clearly scared . Katrine looked clearly angry. She didn't seem to like him since the moment he wanted to get visitation rights. "Alright well I m all ears please do tell me how to proceed . " Chris said though politely but his glance which caught hers was rather self assured . Christian or Tee as every1 called him stood next to them rather uncomfortable . Uncomfortable for several reasons . He was going to have to go and stay with a man he didn't really know but his size and strength predicted nothing good from his experience . Secondly he had to stand by and listen to his social worker go into embarrassing details of his problems. 1 of which he was experiencing on his own skin . The cloth diapers he was wearing were soaked by now uncomfortably cold too as they clung to his skin . Chris stood and pretended to patiently listen to the seemingly endless list of behavioral problems out of which bed wetting lying shoplifting were only a few to mention but hard to really believe when looking down at the child infront of him . He hasn't entered the rapid have of puberty yet based on his height . He seemed much more like a child than a teenager. " Alright then Wednesday after school we will be at the family sevices center" Chris sealed the conversation smiling . Katherine shook his hand unwillingly . " let's go then" - Chris turned to Tee laying 1 hand over his shoulder strearing him out of the court house towards the parking lot . As he touched him he felt him quivering . Tee was surprised by the tone. Chris's voice was pleasant as if this would be normal . No one used that tone with him. Not without that strange gleam in the eyes before the belt hit him or something even worse. But when he glanced up quickly Chris's eyes looked though a bit warn out but no sign of malice. Car ride Sunday later Tee was hunched up on the back seat Chris occasionally glanced back and the feeling of a new unknown pain hit him every time he did . What could have that kid been put through to be desperate enough to steal and set out on his own to find his mother . How heartless can a mother be to call the cops on her own child ? Did he really misjudge characters so badly ? For a moment he got worried . He was sure Patricia was his first real love but now it seemed evident she never loved him if she had how could she treat his child like that . But if he was so wrong judging her and his fathers family for so long could he possibly be wrong about Tee? Maybe the reports are correct and he only seems lost hurt and innocent ? - so now what is the plan ? - Theo asked rather cynically starring straight ahead from the passenger seat and though he didn't look at him Chris felt his anger Chris glanced to the backseat and though saw no reaction from Tee but he was sure he was listening to every word . - well getting late so I guess we could pretty much call it a night - Theo snorted in anger but Chris wouldn't let that interrupt him - I guess pizza will do for dinner ? - no one seemed to answer so he went on - alright then pizza it is . But first I think we will have to make a stop as the car stopped the sign medical supply store seemed to twinkle in bright yellow like the starts in the sky . For a minute none of them moved . Chris and Theo exchanged glances . Theos seemed to say well this was your brilliant idea then go figure it out . Chris took a deep breath before slowly turning to the back seat - I don't suppose you know what size you ... Need Tee didn't look up just shook his head in defeat . He knew what was coming next . He lived through the humiliation of "supply" shopping with his previous families . Though it was done by the women he didn't think the next 10 minutes to even over an hour would be any less humiliating than it was then . Especially since now he was a teenager rather than a child . Chris held on the strearing wheel trying to plan his next move . Diapers weren't exactly his thing . Won't be the first time he had to change one, he was a loving uncle willing to babysit occasionally but even with his twin nieces he never dealt with something larger than an infant . But based on Katherine's description changing diapers will be his task . He had to admit he wasn't quite sure of the reason . The age itself would have qualified for self diapering . Or that just wasn't a thing ? He will definetly have some googling to do ... He shot one glance to the backseat - alright I will be back . Tee didn't move. Didn't even unbuckle his seatbelt as if trying to put off the inevitable. He heard the radio channel being changed but no opening of the backseat door . He looked up puzzled . Chris was not in the car or near the car . He must have gone into the shop . The sign was clear he was sure he was even in this particular one before more than once even . Yes the first time was 2 years ago . When his last foster family took him . He clearly remembered the sign it was shining bright yellow even though it was bright daylight . He took a sharp breath as the memories washed over him . Maybe that was the moment he started to realize that family won't love him for real either . He remembered the condicending smirk look of the sales lady Jane or Janine was her name ? He remembered begging Martha his foster mother not to make him go . He promised he would work harder not to wet the bed. But she said his 1 week was up , he lived with them for a full week now and he couldn't keep his bed dry . - get out of the car ! I don't have time for your whining ! I told you 1 week I even gave you an extra night you are making me regret not giving you the belt this morning ! - Martha made no effort to keep her voice down in the parking lot . He got out of the car not daring to anger her more . His foster father Terry's belt marks were still prominent on his body from a couple of mornings ago . He knew he best avoid any extra punishment he still couldn't lean back in the car from the last belting . The sales lady was smirking the moment they entered as if she knew or sensed before she was told , Martha had no intentions of being discrete about the purpose of their visit . - what can I help you with ? - well my foster son - it hurt him even then to hear the emphasis that he wasn't her real son - can't seem to keep his bed dry , they warned me about that at the home but I was too naive to listen . Well too late now. So we will be needing diapers . And cheap ones . I m not spending a penny more than I ought to ! - very well ma'am follow me I can show you what options we have of course each was worse than the other and the deliberation took what seemed to him as forever till Martha settled for clothes ones since those could be reused . - and making him wash them will teach him a good lesson about how much work they are - the sales woman put in - what a brilliant idea - Martha agreed delighted - now you will of course need plastic pants to go with it to keep the bed dry . These are quite reasonable priced . What color would you like ? - she held up a pink ruffled 1 up teasingly but Martha's choice was just as humiliating - how about that yellow one ? Pee color isn't it ? - she added laughing and just when he thought things couldn't get any worse ... - do you know how to use them ? - actually with my children I used disposables but that was years ago . They are properly potty trained - Martha gave him a stern look - I will be more than happy to show you if you like. Does he have any daytime accidents too ? - well so far only twice but who knows - in that case perfect ! Keep him in diapers until he learns to keep them dry ! Here follow me and I will show you how to put them on he felt his cheeks go hot red just remembering a complete stranger stripping him and demonstrating how to put on his new diapers . It felt like it was real at that moment though he knew he was 11 then but he was sure that having Chris change his diapers won't be more pleasant . He got somewhat stronger in the past 2 years but he was no match to Chris . Even if he didn't use his belt . his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the trunk being slammed he realized that Chris has returned to the car . What items he purchased ? He couldn't tell but he was sure it won't take long for him to see first hand . - whats with all the bags ? Did you empty the whole store ? - Theo asked but Chris just rolled his eyes and started up the car
  12. 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.
  13. 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.
  14. 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.
  15. 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.
  16. 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.
  17. 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.
  18. 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.
  19. What age were you actually potty trained? Did you still wet the bed or have accidents? i was "potty trained" just before I turned four but continued to have both pee and poop accidents until I was at least 9 and wet the bed until I was 11.
  20. 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.
  21. Long time lurker, first time storyteller. No need to be kind, put please be relevant in any comments. I have been writing, or at least attempting to write a story for this forum for quite some time. I am not finished with any of the projects I have started and this one is no exception. The only difference here, is it is my attempt to be brief and direct with short mapped out sections. I had mapped out the entire story. This is my revisiting it for publishing after a 6 month hiatus from writing, thinking or even looking at it. I have more than a dozen started attempts for various stories. Since I mapped out this story in advance, I think I can get this one finished. That is, if I get make the time to write in the near future. PS I am not great at naming things. Y Woty is an acronym for Youth Wasted on the young ….and now without further ado 1. Jason Gold had been sneaking around his mother’s office. Poking around her closet, when his mother ran into her home office to answer her ringing phone. He wasn’t quick enough to escape the room before his mother picked up her secure line on her desk, only hiding himself behind the closet door. Peering through the key hole of the closet door, he listened to his mother’s private conversation. Unknown to Jason, across the room, listening at the door to the office was Stacey, the 19 year old orphaned girl of some college friends of his mother. Stacey had come to live with them years ago and basically grew up in their home. Stacey had been walking by and heard something interesting from her guardian’s words and stopped to hear more. “Yes this could be the breakthrough we have been looking for it could help people to change their very appearance and attributes. They just need to plug in and modify brain activity that has or will develop” Jason’s mom, Meghan said, as she fired up her machine and tapped the headset in front of her. “…….yes the interface is coming along and is rather easy to use.” Meghan listened for a while to the person on the other end of the call before making some rather detailed notes which she locked into one of her desk drawers before leaving her office. Jason sat there for a moment stunned at what he had just heard. Change appearance and personal attributes. That’s what she said. He just sat in the closet and thought about this. His small stature was a source of embarrassment and shame. If he weren’t careful he would often be taken for a little boy, not the 23 year old man. 3’10” was not the size of real man, if he could get his hands on that machine, maybe he could grow just a little more, maybe just to just 5’ and be taken seriously. His devious mind started to work overtime. Stacey quickly moved out of the way as she heard her Aunt Meg ending her call and hid. No way she wanted to be found out to have been listening to a private call. But Stacey’s mind was at work, thinking through the amazing possibility of changing her personal attributes. 19 and she was flat as a board. At 6’ tall she would look like goddess if she only had … Stacey’s mind drifted to thinking of herself as a centerfold model with natural perfect breasts. Adored by guys everywhere. The temptation was too much to resist. She had noticed Aunt Meg neglected to shut down the machine before leaving her office. She knew her Aunt was off to a meeting for the next few hours. Figuring to wait till she was sure the coast was clear, she would creep back into the office and try to figure out how to change her life. Sitting in the closet Jason heard his mother leave the house. Feeling it was safe to leave the closet, he creeped out and made a great discovery. Mom left her office without shutting down her machinery. Over the next few hours, Jason and Stacey each took the opportunity to explore and see what changes they might effect upon themselves. 2. The next morning when Meghan entered her office she was horrified to see she had not shut down her machine and worst of all someone had used it. “Don’t lie to me Jason.” “I swear mom, I didn’t touch anything.” But he was lying. It was his go to response. Putting on his innocent little guy act, lied his ass off. Meghan wanted to believe that even Jason wasn’t foolish enough to lie when the consequences of doing so were so dangerously high. “You realize this is serious don’t you?” “Of course I do.” But, Jason, ready to finish his college senior project on early childhood development, was embarrassed to be only the size of a 5 year old. By the time his mother found out he would already be taller. While lying to his mother, all he could think about was his new life that was about to begin. He desperately wanted to avoid going through the rest of his life looking like a child. He found something that would let him grow was too much to resist. In his haste to fix himself, he quickly went through the development pages, skipping thing he viewed as not important to growth, he had not realizing what he avoided included normal growth and development markers. Meghan accepted Jason’s word, she knew she had two relatively irresponsible people under her roof, knew her machine had been used and knew that if anyone had any idea of what she had been working on, they likely couldn’t resist. Figuring if it wasn’t Jason….. Stacey!…… Stacey! 3. “Don’t lie to me Stacey” “I,….. well,….. all right I played around with it.” “What did you do?” “I heard you on the phone and” “Oh no! what did you think you could do?” a paniced Meghan asked. “Well, I kind of wanted to be, to have, to, to… to try to get a sexier body, you know bigger breasts….” “You need to show me what you did. Meghan called up a file that was clearly the file Stacey had played around with.” “Sit right there young lady.” Meghan was on the phone for the better part of an hour and worked feverishly fixing something in the machines software. Finally, Stacey was summoned over and told to sit and for the second time subjected to the machines effects.” “We did the best we could. You need to understand, there is only so much that can be done at this point.” Meghan told Stacey. As Stacey looked over to Meghan’s worried expression, Stacey herself got scared. “It’s been too long to cancel the changes you made. Fortunately you didn’t do too many thing wrong. Unfortunately, there is no telling how long the effects will last and exactly what will happen.” “What!” “Stacey this hasn’t been tested on people yet. It should work, but, the changes you made, are likely localized to just a few physical features. Some of these will have to just play out over time.” Stacey started to tear up. Her Aunt Meg’s tone made her think she could have really messed up. However, she still secdretly thought maybe she might still get a nice rack. “It’s been 16 hours and some changes have already been coded in your body. We have done some things that should arrest further changes, but it will take time for what had been done to play out. You are just lucky we caught this early enough or the changes might have been more permanent. Jason was listening to the exchange between his mother and Stacey. He started to worry, but was happy that he was going to keep his changes. The risk to him was worth the reward. If all went according to plan, he would get to stay tall. Suddenly, he heard something he couldn’t believe. A sudden shriek from Stacey caused Jason to peer into his mother’s office he got the rear view so to speak of Stacey, across his mother’s lap, her sun dress up her panties down and her ass about to be spanked. This week keeps getting better and better, Jason was almost giddy as he pulled out his mobile and started recording. Four years his junior, Stacey had always been horrible, often belittling him and going out of her way to embarrass him and now she was being punish and he dodged the bullets. The satisfied smirk could not be contained as he watched and awaited the first blow. His heart was thumping with anticipation, it felt good that mom was going to punish her for being a bad girl. No sooner had that thought flashed through his head, Jason felt like he was a small child gleefully seeing his rival spanked. Immediately after that thought flashed through his head, he was embarrassed by his juvenile reaction. “No! please, No!” Stacey cried out as she struggled to escape her exposed position. But Stacey was comfortably handled by Meghan Gold. “This will remind you not to behalf like a child.” Meghan chastised her ward. “No don’t…. Stacey started to beg, but was cut off as the first blow landed squarely on her tight pale buttox. Meghan was not disposed to stop. This brat needed a clear reminder that her actions were well beyond acceptable. It only took 5 blows for the poor girl to devolve into hysterical crying, completely indistinguishable for any other spanked child. Suddenly Jason noticed the spanking stop. At first he didn’t know why. He expected it to last a bit longer. Then he spied the reason “Stacey your disgusting.” I, I, could, couldn’t, I couldn’t Stacey called out as she slowly regained a bit of composure. You peed on me! A bit more collected Stacey continued. I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help it, is my little girl having potty trouble? a condescending Meghan talk down to her distressed ward. Do you need Auntie Meg to change you? Stop that. Watch your mouth little girl or we can repeat this discipline. Now go clean up. Jason had never seen such a thing before. After a couple of minutes of vicious spanks Stacey was reduced to a blubbing mess, as she stood in front of his mother, she hadn’t even pulled up her wet panties. Though 6’ tall, the tears falling as she whimpered, she still looked like a little girl who had just been disciplined. Mom promised further punishment.
  22. I was inspired by the folks over in Incontinent-Desires. There's a rather industrious group there making stents for creating incontinence as opposed to using catheters. So I just extrapolated a bit, and added a little modern/slightly futuristic tech. I hope ye enjoy.
  23. 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.
  24. “Boo” There was a time, a very short time, when I enjoyed Halloween. As a toddler me and my twin sister Jessica would be dressed up by our parents and guided around the neighbourhood collecting candy. Our outfits always seemed to attract a lot of “Oh ain’t you just the cutest” type of remarks and our plastic jack-o-lanterns would be filled with more sweet goodies. I think mom and dad actually liked the event more than either Jess or me, mom especially loved creating our matching costumes. They would hang back at the end of the pathway leading to each house and take great pleasure in the homeowner’s delight in seeing such sweet and adorable, ghosts, ghouls, risen dead or whatever outrageous getup we’d been put in. As in every neighbourhood there is always a house that has a ‘history’ and, depending on who is telling the story, that history could be a number of things; death, murder, the unexplained, strange disappearances, ugly neighbors… you get the drift. Some of these myths may have had some basis in fact but as a seven year-old, if someone older told you such a story, you regarded it as true. One such house was ‘Laurel Grove’ (or Laurel Grave as many people called the place) where they reputedly had the best Halloween displays (very scary) but also, the best candy should you dare to knock at their door. # On this Halloween mom had got us ready but had suddenly felt unwell so we were entrusted into the care of James and Hillary Templeton, our thirteen year-old neighbors to supervise. Of course they didn’t really want anything to do with a couple of seven year-olds but their mother, mom’s best friend, had insisted so they got stuck with us. Things hadn’t gone too badly. Despite them almost dragging us as quickly as possible around the block we had managed to collect a sizeable amount of stuff in our Halloween bags. Jamie and Hills eventually grew tired of our company and desperately wanted to get us home and off their hands but Jess and I still wanted more candy. However, the teenagers came up with a plan to get us to run home and never come out again, they decided we should visit Laurel Grove. # They told us of the deep secret the place concealed, that although it was a scary and frightening place to visit, should we be brave enough, the rewards were everlasting… and the candy was the best too. Neither Jess nor I had heard of this place before and I think the only thing that registered was “the best candy”. Jamie kept saying it was really a place for grown-ups, those over twelve, and probably not a place where seven year-old babies should go because they’d probably wet themselves and run home to mommy to get their diaper changed. We understood the inference… that Jess and I still wore diapers… we didn’t… so didn’t like that one bit. They were baiting us and we, as petulant second, almost third, graders were desperate to prove we weren’t a couple of diaper wearing pre-schoolers. We agreed to go with them the extra couple of blocks to see this particularly scary place. # When we got there a whole new bunch of people dressed in their creepy best were doing the rounds. Most of them appeared older than me and Jess but we never saw anyone go down the pathway of Laurel Grove. The twenty yards or so from sidewalk to front door were wonderfully kitted out in incredible Halloween props; gravestones, coffins, disembodied arms and pieces of flesh hung in a mist they had somehow created. The place looked fantastic, just like a movie set, with strange groans, howls and spine-chilling sniggering emanated from behind every bush putting nerves on edge. Jess and I looked at each other and though impressed by the set, decided not to take our chance at getting the best candy ever. Our teenage supervisors said they understood, we were probably much too babyish to dare to do such a thing and besides they didn’t want the responsibility of having to change our diapers. Their teasing was having an effect and we were getting fed up with this reference to us being diaper wetting babies, neither of us had worn them since we were two, so the joke was on them. Ha! However, when they said that most people were scared of knocking on that particular door, and it would take someone with an enormous amount of courage to do so, we saw our way of not only proving we didn’t need diapers but that we were more grown-up than some of these older boys and girls who were avoiding the place. We saw that not only would we get the best chocolate and candy EVER, we would no longer be seen as babies but become heroes to older kids. This thought spurred us on. # There was absolutely no doubt that we were both sweating heavily as we started slowly and nervously on the journey up the haunted pathway. Jess looked terrified with each moan she heard and became quite upset as some red gunge dripped over the side of a broken coffin. I closed my eyes, trying to ignore each horror as it appeared but my head filled with even worse terror when I walked into a spider’s web that glued itself to my face. The words of encouragement (and giggles) from Jamie and Hills seemed muffled as we drew closer to the door, even though we were still only halfway there. A rustling in the bushes and the bright red-eyes of a skeleton dog howled right next to Jess and she turned tail and ran back down the path. I swallowed hard, determined that I was going to be a hero but already feeling my tummy tighten and breathing difficult, at the same time my bladder and bowel both seemingly wanted to burst. I had no idea this was what fear felt like but I desperately didn’t want to return empty-handed to the sidewalk. I knew that James and Hillary would never let us forget that we were just a couple of scared babies who couldn’t even get up the courage to knock on a door. # I concentrated on achieving my goal. I wasn’t far away and the ghostly hand that touched my face, and the whispered warnings filling my head, only stopped me in my tracks for a few seconds before I forced myself forward. There was low satanic laughter coming from behind the door. I could hear scratching and an evil voice telling the pitiful moans ‘…they would never leave - ah ah ah ahhhhh!’ The hair on the back of my neck was somehow crawling and despite the sweating, I felt goosebumps chill my body. My teeth began to chatter, each step felt like I was dragging a huge weight and the moaning and flapping of wings was getting louder. Blood oozed around the doorway, I felt pee rush into my underwear, shadows drifted by and a bigger shadow filled the reflection in the glass window. The shape changed from man to animal to… I wasn’t too sure but when I looked back to the sidewalk all I could see was the thick mist obliterating everything but a crawling skeleton I hadn’t noticed before. # I gulped and a strange shiver ran down my spine. I was inches away from the door and steeled myself to knock and hope that I wasn’t transformed into some abominable creature of the night. As I raised my little hand to knock, the lit up porch was suddenly plunged into darkness. Fear, or some other shade passed through my body but a purple light switched on. When my eyes got used to the new illumination I could see the word ‘BOO’ smeared in still glistening blood across the door. A scream of death or pain or torture filled my mind and it was that terrifying moment when my bowel decided it had had enough and I filled my underwear. I couldn’t move as my bottom emptied and a rush of lumpy liquid and farts packed my pants with a smelly, mushy load. I stood spellbound for a few moments, staring at that bloody word that appeared to have been so recently scrawled across the woodwork by some poor, ravaged creature. It looked wet and dripped and then I realised that I was also in the same predicament. ‘BOO’ That’s all it had said but those three letters would, unknown to me, haunt me for the rest of my life. # The trip back home was a messy business. Jamie and Hillary didn’t want to have anything to do with a shitty little seven year-old, what with the filthy marks all over my costume, not to mention the smell. Nevertheless, they were nervous of the consequences because they were supposed to be looking after us both and now, one scared little seven year-old had crapped his pants because of their lack of care. Thankfully Jessica held my hand and guided me home because I never would have made it I was crying so much. The two teens were begging me not to tell, whilst coming up with suggestions on how I should explain the disaster. As I was so traumatised by the entire experience I wasn’t party to any of these negotiations. I waddled, slowly and with legs apart, to try and prevent my soiled pants from rubbing against any other part of my body, so I really wasn’t listening. Meanwhile, Jessica had managed to get all Jamie’s and Hillary’s candy and I never knew what else as payment. Once home she spent no time in telling our parents what had happened, how scary the place was and who was really to blame for enticing me up that pathway. Of course mom blamed herself for not being there, whilst dad went around and told their parents. They were grounded for two weeks. # I was still crying when mom led me upstairs to the bathroom and cleaned me up. However, no sooner had she put me in my PJs than a nervous tremble ran through my body and I immediately wet myself. She could see I was in shock and didn’t quite trust me to not spend the night wetting the bed so took evasive action. She told dad to go out to the garage and bring in all the stuff she’d stored there from when I was a baby. In moments he returned with a huge box and mom seemed to know exactly what she was looking for. I was laid out on a towel draped over my bed to ‘catch’ any further accidents and, as she rummaged in the box, through my tears I noticed she had found a couple of thick fabric diapers I hadn’t seen for many years. I wanted to protest but in reality I could hardly get my breath so she had me diapered and in a huge pair of clear plastic pants (which I never remembered owning) in a matter of moments. For the first time since being outside that door at Laurel Grove, I felt out of harm’s way and the thick padding that mom had shrouded me in added to my sense of protection from any evil that may have followed me home. Mom and dad both came and kissed me night-night but left the light on so I wasn’t scared. That didn’t actually work because my dreams were terrible. Every time I closed my eyes I could still see that garden and when I did drop off I was being pursued by all kinds of devilish beings. In the morning I was in no better state than I had been when I’d arrived home that night. It was a good job that mom had the foresight to make sure I was thickly diapered. # For the next few nights I remained well-protected but after a couple of days I was waking up dry and we all thought the drama had past. Life, and school, went on as normal and things only changed when one Saturday morning Jessica crept up behind me and shouted “BOO” and ran off giggling. Under normal circumstances I would have chased after her and this would have developed into a game of tag or have us both roll around on the carpet play fighting. Alas, on this occasion the strange shiver that ran through me on hearing those three letters had the same effect as those scrawled so unnervingly on Laurel Grove’s front door – I filled my underwear. Totally unbidden, pee and poo took urgent leave of my body and soaked what little clothing I was wearing. I looked down in horror as a pool of the stuff formed at my feet - shocked I didn’t move but started to cry. Jessica came running back and saw what had happened and called for mom. She couldn’t believe her eyes on seeing her seven year-old son standing in the middle of his bedroom covered in such a mess. She scooped me up and not caring about her own clothes carried me to the bathroom. She stripped and hosed me down with the shower, then once dry, carried me back to my room and got Jess to find my diapers again. Within minutes of the horror striking, I was back in a thick diaper and plastic pants hugging mommy and wondering what had happened. I don’t suppose the fact that she had scared me even entered Jess’s head, all she explained to mom was that she’d just ‘tagged’ me and ran off when she heard me crying. I couldn’t offer a better explanation, the word ‘boo’ having no connection at the time, so mom must have presumed I was still having some kind of memory to that traumatic night. My diapers stayed with me now for school because on two occasions I’d wet myself while in class. It wasn’t completely unheard of for a seven year-old to have an accident but, with my recent history, mom thought it better to keep me protected 24/7. I didn’t mind. Although I didn’t particularly like the thickness wrapped around me, I certainly didn’t like the wet pants and stifled giggling of my class mates more. Being called a baby was so much worse if there were pee stains down the front of your pants. As time went on I seemed to be wetting myself almost constantly so my diaper was ever present. I never knew when I would leak, or flood and I couldn’t work out the reason. The therapist I saw of course blamed my current situation on the ‘Halloween experience’, which left both my parents feeling very guilty seeing as how much it was they who enjoyed the occasion most. However, I’d seem to go ages without any sort of accident and then suddenly whilst reading, or even walking down the street, I’d feel that shiver and instantly fill my diaper. # I haven’t been able to shake this feeling for, well, since I was seven and I’m sixteen now but I think I now know what might be the cause… it’s those three letters B.O.O. It wasn’t the Halloween garden - the ghosts, blood and bodies, it was those three simple letters. I know this because when I read a book, my concentration is on what I’m reading but as soon as I stop and relax, the word BOOK is no longer the word, all I can see is BOO. The same goes for seeing any word with ‘boo’ somewhere in it. For instance, the word BOOB has recently had me peeing my diaper like a fountain on many embarrassing occasions, especially when I’m trying to chat up a girl. Boomerang, not a word I see often, but I found myself pissing my pants to once I did notice it. The same goes for many words containing those three letters together. So, walking down the street and seeing Book Shop, often finds me filling my diaper. I didn’t notice that was the reason when I was younger, I always assumed it was the event that had caused my problem but now I see the real cause. I hadn’t put the word and that experience together. In fact, although I remember the incident perfectly, the word itself I never thought of as traumatising, just the way it was scrawled bloodily on the door. However, now I think I know the reason, I’m not sure I can tell anyone, I feel stupid that a childish scare word has had such a devastating effect on my life for over nine years. However, I needed help so went to see the shrink and he said he was bamboozled by my casebook. I left his office in a right messy state. ~~~~~~~~ THE END Or is it… BOO
  25. 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.
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