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A psudo Diaper Normalcy story. After hearing that ABU hires exclusively ABDL and my own recent experiments making adult nuggys, (jalapeno and cream cheese stuffed dino nuggys anyone?) I began to think what if an ABDL restaurant opened up near an ABDL diaper factory and the community that might grow out of that. Presented for the approval of the sogg butt society, I call this story... A Seat at the Kids Table. If Morgan could go back in time and tell her younger self what the next five years would bring she doubted she would believe herself. The relatively down to earth 19 year old business student would take one look at the 24 year old in blue and pink pigtails, a skirtall with a pink skull sticking it's tongue out, and a massive soaked diaper sagging just below the skirt line, and probably faint immediately. But when a broke college student hears about a good bartending job opening up she jumps on it, and when the owner asks if she is an ABDL she says yes in the mindset of furiously googling as soon as the interview is done. In hindsight it was pretty obvious, but being a 'normie' she had bought the public line about experimenting with traditionally kids food, which honestly was not a bad niche to fill, they even had a few vanilla regulars who came for just that reason. She almost called to reject the job after her quick research, but she decided she would at least give it a fair try, college was for experimentation after all, and never looked back. So here she was on a Friday night doing what she loved, mixing milks, juices, and liquor to help her babies relax after a hard day of work up at The Factory. A spike of warmth in her already soaked diaper made her think about heading to the changing room, so she called across the dining room, "Courty, can you come play? I need changing!" "Yah sissy," the other girl squeaked, "lemme ring out 7 and I will be over." Figuring it would take about a minute she surveyed her bar and hopped over to the only mommy in the crowd, "make sure none of these babies make a fuss while I'm gone. They're generally well behaved for big kids like me, but Courty is closer to their age and can't handle dem alone." The woman laughed, "you just go get that bum clean, I can handle this. Your not that much bigger than them yourself." "Am too!" And she was, she swears. Her ageplay persona was a bratty 7 year old who refused to potty train, much older than the 1-4 her regulars tended to be. "Are not!" Half the bar chorused back at her. "Am too!" She insisted, stomping her foot for emphasis. That sent a quiver through her gut, and she smirked and bent her knees slightly, "these babies dirty their pants because they don't know any better," she started pushing and grunting, "I dirty mine because I'm Mess-chievous." Half the bar started laughing and the other boo'd her. There was even a shouted "your jokes stink," which she obviously shot back with "so's my diaper, deal wif it." And stuck out her tongue before turning to head to the changing rooms. The changing rooms were centrally located in a hallway that separated the kitchen from the dining room, and there were two others waiting for the girls changer. If she hadn't been messy she probably would have gone back to work and tried again in a half hour, but it was considered rude to be messy in food areas for longer than a few minutes. She almost pulled out her phone to browse, when Tommy stepped out of the boys changer. Tommy was one of the newer Factory regulars, having transfered in as a manager from another location at the beginning of the year, and she would pin his little age at around 3 based on their past interactions. She kind of felt sorry for him, it must be hard being little while also pushing 6 and a half feet and being built like a bear, but also fuck he was hot. He was wearing denim shortalls with bulldozers on them, with a red flannel and trucker hat. He had the kind of 5 o'clock shadow that only comes from meticulous shaving and facial hair that wants none of that. In other words, the perfect blend of AB and lumberjack chic, the two things that got her motor running. She had only seen it once before, about a year ago, on a girl who claimed she was just passing through town. She had even had flannel cloth diapers on, and that had been an interesting experience, wet cloth diapers rubbing hard on wet disposable was definitely something she wanted to feel again. Unfortunately the girl turned out to be an environmentalist who spent a week protesting The Factory, and being generally bitchy to anyone who worked there. It was kind of a sad funny that her plan so totally backfired that no one in the community wore Cloth for three months after she left. Feeling she still could go a bit, and knowing she had about five minutes of wait, Morgan squatted slightly and began to make sure she was empty as Tommy walked over, looking nervous. "Hey little guy. You want to learn to play with the big kids?" She smirked up at him through a grunt, before her thoughts turned to the third changing room, the one for couples to change eachother. She had used it a couple times in similar situations when she really wanted to pick up someone for a one night stand, but for the last five months she hadn't had any. She had enjoyed her time as the 'Bi Baby Bartender on the Bay,' always up for a quick hookup with whatever hotties came into town for one business or the other, but now she wad feeling a bit tired of that. She had had so many wild oats sown her way, she was ready for some oats that were more ready to settle. Maybe roast and age with some nice honey and turn into a fine whiskey. Ok, maybe she was also really looking forward to her shift drink. "Umm, I was wonnering," she could hear a slight hissing, it could have been anyone else in the hall, but based on his face and posture she guessed it was him, was she that intimidating to talk to, he had literally just changed, not that she hadn't warmed up a fresh diap herself from time to time. "Wa... Was wonnering if you was going to Jack's pool potty tomowow?" Morgan grimaced a bit. Jack was a good guy, head of R&D up at The Factory, but no butt that was there would forget the rashes of last year's pool party quickly. For the last few years Jack's big project was disposable swim diapers that actually worked for some capacity. He had hit on the idea of coating the outer surfaces in hydrophobic materials, keeping liquid both in and out of the diaper. All lab tests showed phenomenal results and he had invited a number of volunteers to a pool party as a beta test. What lab tests didn't take into account was the hot July sun beating down on two dozen adult toddlers running around, playing, and most importantly sweating. With the material trapping the sweat beneath it against the skin and the constant movement causing friction the rashes that resulted were legendary. Still Mike, the owner and her direct boss, had pleaded with her to bring the catering and attend as Kids Table management as he and his wife were leaving for a family wedding out of state. "Yah, I'll be there. Someone has to bring the catering. You?" "Yah, umm, well, it might not work if your just working it, but I was wonnering if you wanted to maybe do a Grow Up wif me?" Her eyes widened thoughtfully. A Grow Up was a type of extended date within the community, almost 2 dates in 1. You started with a Little activity, then moved on to a more regular adult date. This allowed you to get to know your prospective paramour's Little and Adult sides at the same time and see if you meshed well with both. She had only ever been on one herself, but this was a perfect opportunity to end her one night stand ways. The woman in front of her entered the changer, so she knew she only had a minute or two to finish this conversation. Giving one last push she grunted, "Yah, actually. I would like that." Feeling empty she relaxed and smiled, "You in any big rush? I am going to do my cash out in an hour and a half. We could sit, talk, have a nuggy platter and a bottle while I do?" "I would like that." He responded as the changer door opened and she walked through. ----- Been super busy buying a house the last few months, and had to replace my phone a little ways back. Was going back over archived files and found 6 in progress stories/ chapters. Hopeing I can remember where I was going with them all so I can post them swiftly.

Cutting it a bit close on the deadline, but after buying a house and then the holidays I remembered this was sitting half finished on my broken phones hard drive unposted. This is my submission to PeculiarChangeling's Virtual Fiction Story Contest, ------- "Mommy!" Ann cried excitedly as Monica entered the daycare. The 26 year old jumped to her feet and ran to the slightly older woman giggling who swept her into her arms, picking her up easily due to the parameters they had set so long ago. "Hey baby, how was daycare?" A hand squished against her diaper, "Baby, you're soaked! What am I paying the caretakers for if they can't even change you?" And she was paying them rather a lot, technically. "I wanted you to change me, mommy." Monica laughed, "Ok honey, lets get you cleaned up, then we can go for ice cream in the park, how does that sound?" "Iceeem" that jubilant cry was answer enough. After the ice cream another clean up was needed, this time on a little girls face, before Monica let her go to play in the park. After a half hour Monica giggled as Ann bent her knees and obviously pooped her diaper before running back up the slide. She wondered what people would think of they knew that the woman called 'The Eisenstein of the 2040s' favorite thing to do to de-stress was dress up like a toddler and poop her pants at a simulated playground, before remembering. Tears blurred her vision as she got the changing supplies ready. Due to the sophisticated nature of the SIM she could smell the mess in her little girls backside from a ways off and knew this would be a messy cleanup, but still as she lifted her she patted Ann's bum and spread it around more. It's how she wanted it. "Someone's a stinky baby, lets get you changed before you stink up the whole city." "No, Mommy! Wanna play!" "You can go back to playing when you're clean, I don't want my little princess getting a rash now do I?" Legitimately impossible due to their settings, but it was the words that counted. After the change Monica couldn't help herself from pulling Ann into a tight embrace, tears leaking down her cheeks. "Mommy?" "Mommy!" Then, softer, without the toddler like inflections, "Monica, look at me honey." Her wife's eyes were kind, but she knew what she would say next would hurt. "It's been three years, you need to start moving on. Coming here every day isn't helping you. Ann died, I'm just a memory. A quirk in the programming of a favorite SIM made from neural interfaces." Monica shook her head violently. "You're not dead, not really. And the fact that you know that proves it! If you were just a digital imprint of my wife's brain you wouldn't be able to form new memories, you wouldn't be able to track the passage of time, you would not be able to process the fact that you are supposedly dead. You would be stuck repeating her last play." "It doesn't matter! Blood and milk on the crosswalk!" Monica felt her own blood chill at those familiar words. "Baby, how do you know that headline? This server is closed off from net access, you didn't want anyone to find out about it." "Emergency Broadcast backdoors, literal genius remember? That's not the point, I've seen the pictures, I died to some freak accident and now I am trapped in my happy place for eternity!" Monica was shocked, Ann had rarely been anything but her happy little girl self. Even right before log-off when she adulted up and reminded her to eat well and all those other goodbyes they used to share before one of them went on a business trip she had never shown any sign that this was effecting her like that. Unaware of her turmoil Ann continued, "And that's not the worst of it. I, what, I was stressed? Needed a bottle? There were 6 weeks of no access before your log in to say goodbye, but how much of that was you putting it off I don't know. So I was working on something big and needed a bottle, we were out of milk so I go to the corner mart, on the one crossing home I get hit by a drunk driver. Tragic, sudden, but that's the world for you. But then he just fucking vanishes on the prison transport?" She was starting to hyperventilate and Monica would have pointed out this was another sign of her being alive had she not been having her own panic attack, "Monica did someone have me killed?" "Oh baby," Monica wrapped around her tighter, both sobbing softly "Baby, no." She briefly considered how to word this, "They did find his body, but it was classified. Someone, or more likely some group, has been raiding prison transports for experiment subjects. They don't know why yet." "Ok," she breathed out into the hug, "And, I don't..., I... It's fine when you're here, I love when you're here, but I can't stand that it's hurting you. And when you aren't? I... I used to wish I could live this, be open about who I am with the world." She laughed sadly, "I'm going stir crazy here honey. Could you load me in some adult cloths and a backdoor to my lab SIM?" She patted her swollen diaper, she had wet at some point during their mutual panic attack, "Probably still need to wear these, but it's virus protection is as good as I could make it, and I'm sure my team has been keeping it up to date." Monica was worried about more outside access to here, but her wife needed this so she nodded, "Ok, well," Ann stood and just loaded a fresh diaper and outfit onto herself, "neither of us is in a fit state to continue, you need to eat and I'm sure you need a change as much as I did," she wasn't wrong. Monica used to pause out and use the bathroom when Ann was alive, but now she wanted to spend as much time with her little girl as possible, and there had been so many diapers left... The two women embraced again, "I'll load my way back to the daycare, I love you Monica, Mommy, my love, just... Take a few days yah? Relax your way, not mine." "Ok baby, I love you too Ann, I will get that backdoor set up in the morning." And with a thought the park slowly dissolved before her eyes. Ann had been right, she was in desperate need of a change. She would probably have frowned at the turkey sandwich she made for dinner, but there was work to be done. The elevator to the basement only took a minute, and she entered a room Ann could never know about. Three men and two women were strapped into VR rigs, IV's and monitoring equipment hooked into them, and a large tube behind each held an exact clone in preserving fluid. Her assistant, Jen looked over as she entered, "Subject 27 has produced an Echo, and Subject 30's clone has completed growth." "Good, begin termination and transfer on 27, then look up more transports the boys are allowed to hit. Our timetable has moved up." It was amazing what the government would turn a blind eye to if you promised them immortality, not that she cared about that bit. Her gaze moved to Ann's clone, in a place of reverence in the back of the lab. She would figure out how to successfully transfer the echo back onto a living brain, she would even let the successful Subject live, the government would want a live proof after all. "I'll get you out of there baby. It won't be long now."

This is an ADULTS ONLY comic, meaning it's not meant for people under the adult age of their respected country. STORY After the events of Totally Shrunk, the agents of WOOHP left one of their own back at the mall--Mandy! Their new mission--punishment--will be to go undercover as kids in a daycare center, to recover their lost baggage of their rival AND have to live as un-potty trained children for the next couple of nights. Get ready for some diaper-changing, butt-spanking, child-hugging affair in this wild ride. Welcome back to childhood, agents! To catch up, get this first: Totally Shrunk Trilogy To see what each holds, click on them. Totally Tykes - Part 1 Totally Tykes - Part 2 Totally Tykes - Part 3 NOW AVAILABLE IN THIS LINK: https://mercomix.gumroad.com/l/totallytykes

Hi folks. The response to my last short story was positive, so I’ve decided to post another. This one has a little bit stronger (but still gentle) mommy domme themes, along with forced regression and messing. All characters are 18+. As always, comments or critiques are welcome! Before Playgroup Sandra sipped her coffee as she watched Mike playing with his toys on the rug. He was all but oblivious to her presence as he busily pushed a brightly colored wooden train along the ramshackle track that had taken over most of the living room. Her lips cracked into a sly smile as she observed the liner of his nighttime diaper peeking out from the elastic waistband of his jammiee. The soggy bulge in the crotch and sag in the bum also signaled that she’d need to get it off him soon. But not yet. It wasn’t time to leave for regression playgroup yet. And that diaper wasn’t coming off until they were on their way out the door. For the past month, Sandra had been gradually increasing the time Mike spent in his nighttime diaper in the mornings before transitioning him back to “big boy pants”. A series of uncomfortable wet beds had made nighttime diapers an easy choice to accept, and the increasing time spent in them after waking was just a natural extension of that (at least from his perspective). There had been some grumpy feelings at first, but by the end of the first week, he seemed to be perfectly happy staying in his soggy night-night diaper at least through breakfast, and often well beyond. Sandra was already starting to reap the rewards of these efforts. Even on the rare occasions when he woke up dry, his diaper was almost always wet by the time he finished breakfast. He didn’t seem particularly bothered by these periodic lapses in daytime continence either. In fact, Sandra didn’t think that Mike was even especially aware of his diapers at these times. They had become an accepted part of his morning routine now, and using the potty was not. On mornings when they weren’t going out right away, she’d supply him with a fresh sippy cup of juice or milk and send him off to play, waiting to change him until she was sure the residuals of the additional liquids had found their way into his baby pants. Sometimes she’d pull him into her lap, all cute and warm and squishy, and tell him what a good boy he was for not making a fuss about the potty while he was diapered. Sandra loved the intimacy of these little moments together - when he allowed himself to be babied and cared for so completely. The faint smell of urine and baby powder wafting from his jammies was a not-so-subtle reminder of his growing dependence on her. She wanted him to be this way for her more often. And that desire was why she had decided to enroll him in the the Regression Clinic last Christmas. Mike had gone quite willingly to the first few bi-weekly appointments (he’d always been a little subby and into kinky ageplay), but she suspected he was treating it more as a gimmicky excuse to take some time off work, and possibly an easy opportunity to get his hands on some fun meds. It had been slow going in some areas, especially at first, but things were starting to change in more noticeable ways now. Apart from the bedwetting and increased time spent in diapers when at home, she had begun to notice some distinctly babyish shifts in Mike’s behavior and personality. He’d started sucking his thumb when he was sleepy or stressed, and he sometimes needed a nap in the afternoons now. He was more eager to please her, and much more affectionate. Mike had never been much of a cuddler in their previous 6 years of marriage, but now he craved her hugs and attention, sometimes lapsing into whining or even tears if he didn’t get what he needed from her right away. He’d definitely started reacting more like a two year old, even if he didn’t always act like one. And one topic that could almost always be relied on to set Mike off was his toileting. Apart from nighttime and early mornings, Mike was still adamantly opposed to wearing anything that didn’t closely resemble “big boy pants” during the day. The one time Sandra had casually suggested putting him in a “just in case” diaper before they went out had provoked such a swift and petulant “NO!” reaction and stamp of his foot, that she’d almost laughed out loud. It wasn’t because Mike didn’t need daytime protection - in fact they were long past that point. Sandra had been keeping careful track of Mike’s toileting and accidents since he started the regression program. Although he still had some good days (or bad, depending on which side of this process you were on), the completely accident free days were pretty much a thing of the past. The program was clearly having an impact on his level of independent bladder control, but that also meant more work for her - cleaning up puddles, peeling soiled training pants down pee-soaked legs, and doing endless loads of laundry. It was growing tiresome. After Mike had left a trail of urine through the checkout line at the grocery store about a month ago, Sandra had decided it was time for him to start wearing cloth “training pants” during the day. She had bought the most absorbent ones she could find, but without a waterproof cover, heavy or repeated wettings still soaked through to his clothing. The not-quite-daytime-diapers were a small victory, but it still felt like they were dancing around the problem rather than dealing with it in the most logical, practical, and inevitable way. Now, as Sandra watched Mike play, she was carefully observing his body language. If today’s plan was going to work, she’d need to time this perfectly. Sandra knew Mike usually had a bowel movement about 30-45 minutes after breakfast. He was still pretty good about requesting the potty for “poopies”, although there had been a couple of notable “mishaps” in recent weeks. In truth, Sandra had “facilitated the first accident through simple distraction and redirection. She’d been a little concerned that Mike would see right through her scheme, but it turned out that the opportunity to play with mommy’s phone (something he almost never got to do) was a very powerful motive to completely ignore his toilet needs. As planned, that little “boo-boo” had happened in his sodden nighttime diaper, and Sandra had made sure the whole experience was extra memorable for both of them. Just the smell coming from Mike’s bulgy bottom was enough to make her wet. And his subsequent blushy confession about what he’d done in his diaper and why he needed to be changed was almost enough to make her come on the spot. As she held his legs and wiped his bottom, Sandra had been careful to reinforce the point that cleaning up a poopy diaper was no big deal, and that she wouldn’t mind if he decided that he wanted to do all of his poopies in a diaper from now on. Of course it was his choice, but it would be a lot more convenient for everyone wouldn’t it? And in exchange, he could have more phone time! As predicted, Mike had refused, but she had at least planted the seed that poopy diapers were an acceptable (and preferred) alternative to sitting on the potty. The second poopy accident had happened more “organically”, and, unfortunately for Sandra, it had occurred when Mike was in training pants. On that morning, she had dutifully changed him out of his morning diaper and settled him in the living room in front of the TV, while she took some time for herself to catch up on news and social media. She had been in the kitchen, absentmindedly poking at her phone when she noticed that Mike was being more quiet than usual. Too quiet. Sandra crept to the entrance of the living room and peered in to find Mike standing in front of the TV with his thumb in his mouth and his eyes glued to the screen. A rivulet of drool hung from his lips. As she watched, Sandra had been mildly surprised to see Mike bend his knees and push his bottom out a little bit. She knew immediately what was happening. She had seen this characteristic posture countless times during the years she had spent working in the toddler room at the local daycare before marrying Mike. The only difference (apart from size) was that those kids were still in diapers full-time, and therefore had no legacy of potty training to contend with. Going in their pants was an everyday occurrence. For his part, Mike seemed completely unaware of what was about to happen. He was totally engrossed in the preschool TV program she had put on for him. Sandra continued to watch with amusement as Mike tensed and held his breath. His body relaxed for a moment and then tensed again, this time for much longer. This was no involuntary little “accident!” Whether he realized it or not, Mike was pushing a large poop into the seat of his pants as if he’d never been toilet trained. He gave another short push, followed with a little shiver, and then returned to a full standing position as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Moments later, the smell of freshly dirtied training pants reached Sandra’s nose. She considered leaving him like that for a while to see how he would react, but she quickly decided against that course of action. It would be better for his diaper training (and her control) if she pretended to discover his little accident all on her own. And besides, she wasn’t sure the cloth trainers would contain the mess if he sat down or moved around much. There was a very noticeable bulge in the seat of his pants. Sandra knew it was weird, but she found that posture and that bulge so irresistibly cute! Part of her wished she could just run over, pick Mike up, and hug him tightly to her with one arm firmly planted under his bottom. She imagined the look on his face as he felt the warm poop smushing further up his backside as she bounced him lightly and held him tightly to her. She imagined him blushing and burying his face into her breasts as he told her in muffled tones that he’d gone poopy in his pants and that he needed to be changed into a clean diaper. Maybe he’d even start to wet himself during his confession, and she’d feel the spreading warmth against her tummy as she patted his bottom and gently shushed him. Maybe she would… No. She was getting carried away. There would be plenty of opportunities to enjoy stinky diaper time with Mike in the future. Right now, Sandra knew she needed to stay in gentle, but firm mommy mode. Without saying anything, she walked over to Mike, and with a motion perfected in years of professional practice, she knelt down behind him and pulled back his trainers to peek inside. She knew what she would find, but she wanted to reinforce in his mind that she, not he, was the one responsible for tracking the condition of his pants, and that she didn’t need his permission to do so. The sudden motion startled Mike out of his trance. He looked up at her questioningly at first, his face the picture of slightly dazed or bewildered innocence, but then his expression quickly changed to one of dismay as Sandra announced matter-of-factly that he was stinky and that she needed to change him right away. A brief bout of tears followed, but she drew Mike into her, rubbing his back, gently patting his bottom, and speaking in such soft, reassuring tones that the embarrassment over his accident was soon forgotten. It had been quite a thrill watching Mike dirty his pants for the first time without her “encouragement”, but Sandra also knew that these moments presented important focal opportunities for increasing Mike’s regression and introducing important changes to help him along on his journey. The staff at the regression clinic had made it clear that Mike’s regression would not follow a linear or steady path. Instead, he would go days or weeks at a time with little to no perceptible change in his behavior or attitude, and then an event like this would trigger a sudden and permanent shift towards more regressive, babyish behavior. Sandra had used the second messing episode as an excuse to start changing Mike while lying down on a changing mat, instead of standing up. He needed to get used to being changed this way. Standing changes were only for big boys who had occasional little accidents. He no longer qualified on either count. Mike had fussed a little bit when she first laid him down right there in the living room, but Sandra had been firm that it would be easier and faster for mommy to clean his dirty bottom this way. Besides, he was in no position to argue with her in his current state. Oddly enough, Mike seemed to become completely comfortable with this change in status and procedure by the time Sandra began wiping him down. It was as if she’d flipped a switch in his mind. He had laid there passively as she worked on his most intimate areas, perfectly content to ignore what was happening and to continue watching TV sideways from his position on the changing mat. It was the single most babyish behavior Sandra had seen from Mike to this point. In the days that followed, Sandra had noticed other lasting changes in Mike. He seemed generally less concerned with his potty accidents. Whereas he used to demand that she change him as soon as he noticed he was wet, he now seemed content to just wait for her to take notice and change him when she was ready - a task which she often delayed for as long as possible - at least when they were at home. She’d stopped mentioning or suggesting the potty when they were home alone together unless she needed him in dry pants for some reason. In fact, they begun treating the cloth trainers more like diapers when at home. Public accidents were a different story though, and still prompted immediate and whiny demands to be changed on the spot. And there were occasional tantrums if that was not possible for some reason. Sandra had allowed this bad behavior to continue in the hopes that it would change on its own as the frequency of his daytime accidents increased. But alas, not yet. Which brings us to the events she had planned for today. Sandra knew that removing Mike’s aversion to public accidents and public changes was an important step in his journey to full-time diapers. He was more than ready physically, (as noted, there was plenty of evidence of that in the diaper pail and laundry room). But still, something was holding him back. Eventually, after consulting with one of the on-call psychologists provided by the regression program, Sandra had determined that Mike’s resistance was primarily social in nature and origin. He still wasn’t comfortable with being treated like a baby or doing babyish things in front of his peers or other adults, because that’s not what “big boys” like him were supposed to do, and he assumed they still saw him that way. Size matters in all things to boys, Sandra thought, ruefully. The stigma that wider society attaches to needing or wearing diapers after a certain age was clearly ingrained on Mike’s psyche. Becoming a “big boy” who no longer needed to wear diapers had been a point of pride for him at one point in his life. And he was still holding on to the social expectations and norms that drove that pride, even if he wasn’t consciously aware of it. Sandra hated to admit it, but the competitive side of her was a little bit frustrated by Mikes slower “progression to regression” in this respect when compared to his peers in the regression cohort. He had been one of the first to start wetting the bed regularly at night (she knew he had been a bedwetter as a child until the age of 10), and that had given her false hope that a transition to daytime diapers would soon follow at a similarly accelerated pace. But that hadn’t been the case. Now, nearly 6 months into the program, most of the other littles in Mike’s cohort and in the neighborhood playgroup had moved past him into full time diaper dependency. Yet Mike remained that awkward kid - still in trainers, and still demanding to use the potty or to be changed when he had a public accident. But today Sandra had an opportunity to help change that.She waited until she saw his characteristic “number 2 fidgets” beginning, and then announced with feigned panic that she had lost track of time, and that they were going to be late for playgroup if they didn’t leave right this minute. In actual fact, they had plenty of time, but Mike didn’t know that. He had stopped paying attention to the clock months ago, satisfied in the knowledge that Sandra kept track of time for him. She hastily removed his diaper, gave him a cursory wipe (arriving at playgroup smelling a little bit like stale urine certainly couldn’t hurt his progress today), then pulled up his trainers and shorts. She stood them both up, grabbed his hand, and literally pulled him out the door to the car. She had conveniently “forgotten” his change bag on the counter in the kerfuffle. For his part, Mike had no time to object before he was pulled out the door. He also hadn’t had time to ask for the potty. He mentioned it to her now from the backseat as she drove, although he didn’t make it clear just how urgent the need was. Sandra smiled maternally, and told him that she’d be glad to help him make a big poopy as soon as they were at playgroup. It was true, in a way. She assumed that Mike would be able to hold his bowels while sitting down in the car with his bottom pressed tightly into the seat. But once they arrived at playgroup, it would be a different story. Standing or kneeling while temporarily distracted with new and fun toys was a virtual guarantee for poopy pants in Mike’s regressed condition. All she had to do was get him through the door and into the playroom without stopping for the potty. After that, nature (and the regression program) would take its course. And that’s what Sandra wanted. That’s what Mike needed. Because today, Sandra was going to help Mike show himself and the rest of the mommies and littles at playgroup that he is definitely not a big boy anymore. Today, Mike was going to do a big poop in his pants, in someone else’s living room, and while playing with another little’s distracting and unfamiliar toys. Today, Sandrawas going to be too engrossed in conversation with one of the other mommies to notice what was happening or to suggest he pause to use the toilet. Today, Mike was going to get his bottom sniffed suspiciously, and then have his pants checked for confirmation without warning, by someone else’s mommy. Today, a tearful Mike was going to have to tell her what he’d done in his pants in front of the other mommy she’d been chatting with, who would look on affectionately as she continued to nurse her own little. Today, Mike was going to learn that Sandra had forgotten to bring any spare trainers or shorts for him, and so they’d have to find another solution for his stinky and wet pants (unless he wanted to go home and stop playing with the fun new toys). Today, she’d help Mike come up with that solution on his own, providing only gentle encouragement to guide him toward the robvious answer. Today, Mike would experience the humiliation of having to ask another mommy if he could borrow a diaper - and having to tell her why (as if it wasn’t plainly obvious). Today, Mike was going to find out that mommies expect little boys like him to make poopies in their pants, and that no one was mad or upset at him for doing so. And of course there were spare diapers available for little boys like him who needed them. Today, Mike would toddle back over to Sandra, proudly holding the diaper he’d acquired, and ask her to put it on him with barely a hint of embarrassment. Today, Mike would experience a very public change.

NOW AVAILABLE!! This is an ADULTS ONLY comic, meaning it's not meant for people under the adult age of their respected country. CLICK IN THE LINK HERE TO GET IT: https://mercomix.gumroad.com/l/totallytykes03 REGULAR EDITON ($14) SPECIAL EDITION ($16) NOTE: The SPECIAL EDITION will come with the comic, clean pages and cover, bonus art, and original script in PDF. You will be charged immediately, but will get the product on it's release date. STORY The trilogy of Totally Tykes reaches it's finale with the punished WOOHP agents, and Mandy, endure a rude awakening and changing before they set out back to daycare. There, they meet another child-sized woman, Barbara, who's has a keen eye for Mandy and wants to know her secret to being small. But how did Barbara get small? We're bound to find out as their ageplay of punishment concludes! WRITER Mercurius (ME) LINES Fernando-Damasio COLORS Andre Silva To catch up, get these first: Totally Shrunk Trilogy Totally Tykes - Part 1 Totally Tykes - Part 2

Disclaimer: contains sexual content... Kitty-Kat’s Little Adventure Kitty was absolutely buzzed with excitement as the tv flickered to her favorite show. She focused on bright colors, glancing over the jumbled words that appeared on the screen. Reading was not a needed skill when she had her daddy to tell her stories all the time. At daycare, they taught her how to spell her name and that was all she needed to know. Daddy called her his little Kitty Kat. Though, sometimes it was Little Miss Crinkle Pants, Lil Stinker, or Poo poo Machine like on her bib, tied around her neck. But of course, she was daddy’s kitty first and foremost. There was no question about that as she bounced in his lap, legs splayed in only a very thick diaper. “Dada wook!” she exclaimed, unfazed by the dribbling milk coming from her mouth. “Oh, yes very nice! Does Kitty like the colors?” Like a bobblehead, she nodded enthusiastically, two bleached blonde pigtails swinging back and forth. “Drink your baba. Be a good girl.” The rubber teat teased her lips eventually being allowed to enter. A feeling of calm washed over her, focused on the moving images that did make much sense. Falling back into the comfort of Dada’s broad chest, she continued to suck down all thirty-two ounces of the creamy white liquid. Despite the protest from her very chubby tummy, Kitty continued to drink. At almost 5 ft. 10 in, twenty-four years old, and weighing one-hundred and forty pounds, she felt tiny in his muscular arms. He was at least a foot taller, able to lift her and all the extra baggage she carried. Dada said chubby girls were healthy girls. That’s why he’d fattened her up from the stick she had once been. That was a long long time ago. The dark days. A time when she had no Dada and was all on her own. Where would she be now if he hadn’t rescued her? Kitty didn’t like to think about that. Going to a boring school called Harvard and studying to be a lawyer… it was not very fun. Do you know what was fun? Daycare! Every day she got to play dress up and make finger paintings for Dada. Plus, Rosie and Evie were there and they were her bestest friends in the entire world! They weren’t like the ones from before. What were their names? It was a long longgg time ago. She knew they weren’t good girls because Dada said they weren’t and he is always right. That’s why he rescued her that night, her head fuzzy from the icky drink that was definitely not her baba! He’d become her new home… taking her away from the loud place and her big girl clothes that no little girl should wear. It was for the best, Kitty knew now. She’d put up a terrible tantrum but Dada said that was ok. It’s how little girl behave. Just not too often… then it was just bratty. ooOoo This was why Friday nights were his favorite: no work, all the beer he could drink, and best of all… playtime with his little Kitty- Kat. The hypnosis series was a success, leaving her even more dependent and in need to mess. Finishing the last drops of her bottle laced with laxatives, Deliria, and his special milk, to say she was on another planet would be an understatement. The drug, Deliria, did exactly what it sounded like. Within minutes she would be delirious, increasing her libido until she was nothing but an icky mess of sweat, tears, and poop. Of course, he’d taken special measures, locking her little kitten. His Kitty couldn’t get all the fun! While she got playtime at daycare this was Dada’s time. To her, he was Dada and that’s all he would ever be. Nowadays adult babies were all the rage on the black market. Diaper clad and with their minds turned to mush, never would he have trouble finding his own woman. It’s not like he was ugly. Being a personal trainer, at the gym five days a week, many ladies came up to him. Tall, tanned skin with dark hair, chiseled jaw, and smoldering blue eyes (their words, not his!) he could have anyone he wanted. But he chose his little Kitty. The switch in her mind was all too obvious, watching as her eyes rolled to the back of her head, eyes fluttering shut. Rocking her hips as the drug took effect, the crinkling padding was enough to turn him on. He’d fitted her with four diapers, extra absorbent and leakproof. Now, after the past two hours of continuous laxatives… Lord have mercy. Her lips wobbled, little whimpers emitting from her throat. “Dada!” she breathed. “Tickwle Dada! Hewp!” frustration coated her voice as her movements quickened, unable to achieve her desired release. So unbelievably sexy… if only the world could see the gem he had captured and what they were missing. “Does your kitten tickle, princess?” he groaned. “Tell Dada to touch you. Use your words.” Even if she could speak, the girl was too lost in her own world. His hand moved to her chest, rolling the two little pebbles between his fingers, wrinkly and dark compared to pale hue. They’d played this game long enough for the fingerless mitts no longer to be needed. Kitty knew better than to touch her little buttons. Little girls were not mature enough. That’s why it was Dada’s responsibility. It could’ve been minutes or hours but like a bubbling volcano of lava, her stomach rumbled, churning beneath the touch of his hand. “Is my Kitty gonna make a present for Dada?” ooOoo “Just let go…” his breathe, warm and minty, tickled her ear. “Dada’s got you.” Her emotions were a kaleidoscope of colors. Pure ecstasy... euphoria... but with a little touch of salt. It was like being lost in a maze. The exit so close yet so far. She could hear his voice, feel his presence, but the words died on her tongue as soon as they arose. Her heart thundered in her chest, threatening to break free. It was as if her entire body was a wire, tense, waiting to snap. As her toes curled and back arched, quick breathless pants escaped her lips. Had she died and gone to heaven? Trembling, the sound of rumpled diapers filled her ears. A moment later, there was a boom. Had her heart exploded? It felt like it was about to. “That’s it baby. Make poopies for Dada… such a good girl.” Poopies? Grunting as her belly, let out a big push and a warm load filled her back side. Seated on Dada’s lap, her thighs continued to spread, the dark brown padding expanding rapidly. By this point, her head was consumed with just as mush as her tush. Hours could’ve passed and she wouldn’t have noticed. Kitty didn’t have a care in the world because floating among the stars, life could not get much better than this. However later… it was not so magical any longer. “No, Kitty, no tears. Do you want a spanky?” his voice was dark and scary. The girl shivered, suckling urgently on the rubber bulb between her lips. She only wanted more playtime! Now he was being a meanie! Against her will, tears sprouted in her eyes, a funny feeling, almost heavy, tingling in her chest. Her leg kicked, hands forming into fists. It wasn’t fair! It wasn’t- “Don’t make Dada pull out the straps.” he squeezed her face in his hand, bent over her on the changing mat. The tv played in the background. Sports. Kitty just wanted her show back. Whining loudly, a sharp slap landed down on the inside of her thigh. Changing times were never her favorite because it was always chilly and she had to stop playing. Right now, it looked like a literal bomb had gone off yet still bucked her hips. Sliding further around in her mess, climbing up her backside she was desperate. Nothing would sooth her aching kitten. Dada said all kittens had to wear collars and her’s just happened to be between her legs. It was very annoying being constantly itchy down there. Rosie’s mommy itched her Kitten but Dada said it wasn’t proper for little girls. Now, she was angry. Her tummy felt funny and the happy feeling had disappeared. “Mowe poopies!” she demanded with a pout. Poopies equaled happy feelings and happy feelings equaled happy Kitty. “You can poo as much as you want darling,” he held his hands up. “But no more happy feelings until Next Friday. Does Kitty understand Dada?” No. She did not. Covered in poop, the girl wailed, feet and hands slamming down upon the ground. Needless to say... she was no longer in a happy mood and the adventure was over. ooOoo Hey everyone!! Here’s another story :)). My goal is to try to post original work on my tumblr: livelovediapers24- at least once a month so stay tuned! Thank you for reading!! I should update Lulu's Little Adventures soon!!

Joe sat in the passengers seat of his wife’s car and watched the rain fall outside. He sighed and leaned his forehead against the cool glass of the car window. He felt anxious and restless but there was nothing for him to do, nowhere for him to go and no way out. They were almost to their destination and Joe was overcome with a thrill of dread. He took a deep breath, he knew was being silly, ridiculous even but he couldn’t help it! He knew all too well what awaited him when the car stopped. Joe was ripped away from his malaise as his wife laid a gentle hand on his thigh and gave a small squeeze to gain his attention. Julie smiled at her small husband “sweetie, what’s wrong” she asked concern in her voice. “I would think you’d be excited. I mean I know this isn’t exactly ideal but we had to have the house fumigated immediately and I have to go to my friends bachelorette. I already feel guilty enough, I I hate leaving you all alone and I know you really don’t like it either but it all worked out” she said as she gave shoes leg a pat. Joe for his part gave a noncommittal nod as his wife continued “I mean Tim’s timing couldn’t be better. He moved back to town just in time didn’t he.” The received another small nod from Joe “ummm” he added. Satisfied Julie went on “You must be excited to see your best friend and have your little sleepover sweetie hmm, just like old times” she returned her eyes to the road seemingly unaware of her husbands inner turmoil. Joe gulped unable to speak. a return to old times was just what he was afraid of but he couldn’t say that, there were so many things he couldn’t tell his wife so instead Joe just nodded ”of course I'm excited to see Tim” he said in a small voice ”I'm just gonna miss you I guess” In truth Joe was going to miss his wife but that was not the primary cause of his anxiety. Joe’s feelings of apprehension stemmed from knowing that the minute he stepped out of the car he would be back under the care and complete control of his best friend and former roommate and there was nothing he could do about it. Within minutes the car pulled to a stop in front Tim’s new house. Starting to panic Joe turned and looked at Julie who was still smiling serenely at him ”are you sure you have to go” he ask unable to totally hide the apprehension in his voice. He gazed at his wife hoping to change her answer because he just knew that once he walked though that door things would never be the same. Both of their lives would change forever and he was helpless to stop it. Julie gave her husband a hard look ”yes I do, I made a commitment and anyway I want to see my friends” She gave Joe’s shoulder a genteel rub “Honey Tim is your best friend and he's only just moved back to town. We’ve only seen him once and I know he misses you. I think it's important that you two spend some real time together” Her expression grew concerned as she gazed at Joe’s worried face honey you’re being silly she said gently “it's only 2 nights and I'll only be a couple of hours away okay” Joe nodded “you’re right he sadly squeaked” , And she was. Everything she said was true, Tim was his best friend. This in it self a miracle mostly because at first glance they made no sense together, Tim was huge, well over 6 feet tall with dark hair and eyes. He was extremely athletic physically fit. Joe on the other hand could only be described as cute. He was barely 5 feet tall with a skinny, boyish build and blond hair. He had never been athletic and was often confused for a 10 year old boy. This was still almost a daily problem for Joe at 24, at 18 when he met Tim and they became collage roommates it was a major obstacle in his life and made it way for Tim to take on a dominant role in their relationship. In fact, Joe knew that his looks and lack of physical development were the main reason why Tim decided to take control from almost the moment they met. He couldn’t put it off forever, With a final sigh Joe leaned over to drop a kiss on his wifes cheek ”love you hon” he said trying to sound cheerful “see you Sunday” he gave Julie a fake smile before grabbing his backpack opening the car door. She gave him a quick wink as he exited and then she was gone. Joe blinked away tears as his wife drove off. He stared up at the small white house in front of him. It just a normal looking House but Joe knew exactly what waited inside for him and he felt he had no way to stop it. Joe closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. Knowing that he couldn't put off the inevitable any longer Joe slowly made his way to the door. Joe raised his hand and was about to knock when Tim opened the door with a huge smile ”hey little buddy, I’m so glad to see you Joey come in, come in!” Joe tensed Tim was then only one who ever called him Joey. He haven’t been called Joey in over 2 years, Tim and Tim only called him that as a reminder of his place in their relationship. Tim smiled noting the smaller man’s reaction. He held out his hand for Joe’s bag and only once the smaller man had handed it over did he step aside to allow Joe to enter. “This was okay, everything was alright” Joe repeated the mantra to himself silently as he stepped inside. He immediately looked around and froze. Joe closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he should have been expecting this but somehow he just hadn't been. Of course he should have been expecting this. The cause of Joes anxiety was nothing more than a harmless looking wooden crate sitting on floor of the entry way. It was undecorated except for a the the word shoes displayed in large black letters and a picture of red shoes right underneath the lettering. Reluctantly Joe peered inside knowing exactly what he would find and there it was, a tiny desk top trash can in the corner of the crate with a small swinging lid. Joe’s breath caught as he pictured the white board that hung over his bed in their dorm room. He could see the words House Rules written in big letters followed by the words Rule 1- little boys will be barefoot at all times unless given express permission from a grownup. For a minute Joe thought about fighting Tim. He could, he could insist that he was a grown up, not some little boy. He took a steadying breath snd puffed out his chest, then he visibly deflated, Joe knew what Tim wanted and Tim would win! Tim always won. “Just do as you’re told be good” Joe mentally scolded himself. Not wanting to call attention to his momentary flair of rebellion Joe walked right to his crate and quickly toed off his small shoes. He then bent down to place them in the crate. Next he reached down and peeled off his socks and placed them in the small trash can. Before straightening up Joe said a silent goodbye to his socks doubting he would see them again. Joe hadn't been allowed to wear socks his entire 4 years of collage and a big part of him already knew that after today he wouldn't ever be allowed to wear them again. Joe gazed down at his bare toes wiggling them unconsciously. A shiver ran though his whole body. He could never understand why the loss of his shoes and socks made him feel so naked. Tim put Joe’s bag on a nearby coat hook then turned walked directed to the smaller man. Smiling Tim enfolded Joe in his arms and whispered into his ear “you remembered Rule 1, I’m so proud of you my good little boy” He then dropped a kiss on Joe’s hair. In spite of himself Joe melted into the hug and without thinking about it nodded into Tim’s chest. Tim pulled back and smiled down at his tiny friend. Joe couldn’t help but beam back. Though Joe would never admit it, even to himself he only ever felt truly safe with Tim, the same way any little boy feels when he’s with his daddy. Tim stroked is finger down Joe’s smooth cheek and ended by cupping his chin. Joe closed his eyes and leaned into the familiar and loving gesture Tim had always used to grab his attention. Looking at his boy Tim said “Just to make sure we’re on the same page little one, can you remind me what rule 1 is again?” he stroked Joe’s chin as he waited for him to respond. Joe froze noting Tim’s use of the word IS, he said IS not WAS implying that their rules were still in effect and were going to once again be part of Joe’s life. He gulped and mumbled “no shoes and socks, not allowed” Tim pointed down to his own shoe covered feet “what that’s not right is it kiddo, who’s not allowed?” This was one of the things Joe found most embarrassing, Tim always wore shoes and socks and dressed like a grownup. This brought their obvious differences in size and maturity into even more stark contrast. Joe moaned but new better than to ignore a direct question from his…Tim “um just me” he answered slowly “I gotta be barefoot all the time unless you say to wear shoes” he looked up at Tim hating himself for seeking the man’s approval. Tim gave Joe’s chin a tiny shake “that’s exactly right sweetheart and why do you need to be barefoot at all times” he asked the question seriously but smirked at Joe as he awaited Joe’s response. Joe whined just a bit before answering “it’s cause I’m just a little boy and shoes is for big grownups like d… like you” Tim smiled proudly and wrapped his arms around Joe once again “that’s exactly right, my smart little boy”. He dropped a another kiss on Joe’s hair before releasing the boy and landing a playful swat on his bottom “go to the sofa like a good boy please , I’ll meet you right over there” Joe nodded, he made sure to listen carefully to Tim’s command ”go to the sofa” did not mean sit in the sofa it meant go sit on the ground by the sofa until I get there. There were rules about when little boys were allowed to use the furniture right now was not one of those times for Joe. As Joe made his way to the living room he heard the familiar plip plopping sound of his own bare feet against the floor, this sound had been almost ever-present in his collage days especially since early on Tim had trained him to always step heel first so that the ball of his foot always fell to the ground with a plop. This was only reenforced by the fact that Tim only ever let Joe wear shoes like flip flops or clogs that squeaked and slapped when he walked. This only added to his embarrassment and the knowledge that his life was not his own. He belonged to someone else. He belonged to Tim and Being Tims barefoot little boy meant walking like a toddler. Once collage was over and Joe was away from Tim he had started to grow up. Joe changed many thing. For starters he had actively avoided ever being barefoot, in fact Joe doubted that his wife had ever even seen his toes but he knew that was about to change. He repeated rule one over and over in his mind as he listened to the familiar pitter patter of his own little feet. Once in the living room Joe looked around then like a good boy he sat on the ground in front of the sofa and waited for Tim. He didn’t have long to wait which wasn’t surprising in the least. Tim was many things but inattentive wasn’t one of them. In fact he was almost obsessive when it came to his little boy. Tim walked into the living room smiling at the sight of Joe sitting on the ground in front of the couch hugging his knees. Tim smiled upon seeing Joe sitting on the floor and walked over to the sofa. He nodded silent and took a seat, only then did he extend his hand “Joey, come here baby” he said his voice was quiet and self assured it was clear that this was not a request but a comment, an order to be obeyed. Without second thought Joe sprung to his feet. His compulsion to obey was so strong that he grasped Tim’s hand practically jumping into his arms. Then he seemed to regain his composure and stopped himself. He pulled back just slightly giving Tim a shy smile “ah hi” he whispered embarrassed by his own reaction. Tim practically beamed ”hi baby he said as he pulled Joe closer so the little man was standing between his legs. Tim once again cupped Joes cheek and looking into his eyes asking ”why were you sitting on the floor baby” Tim smirked visablly of course he already knew the answer to this question. It was simply a test for his little boy. Joe shrugged and mumbled ”you know, rule 2” Tim nodded seriously ”of course what was I thinking and what's rule 2 again sweetheart” Joe whined but answered ”little boys can’t sit on adult furniture without permission cause it’s up high and dangerous and anyway, I’m still in street clothes which aren’t allowed in the house cause ah you know they’re yucky ” Tim nodded once again ”that’s exactly right sweetheart and you were such a good boy to remember the rule about the furniture. Now then, is there something you need to ask me” Tim kept his voice firm but gentle and pointed to Joe’s shirt. Joe knew exactly what was expected of him, in the four years he had lived with Tim he had never been allowed to dress or undress himself. He was just too little to get it right and Tim could it better and faster. He had to swallow the lump in his throat before asking ”will you in undress me please” he looked away, his cheeks burned with shame as he automatically raised his arms in the air. Tim on the other hand looked positively blissful ”of course baby ” he said as he started to pull Joes shirt over his head. Once Tim had separated Joe from his shirt he paused, he rubbed Joe’s soft round belly noting with pleasure that nothing had changed he still had A creamy complexion, soft hairless skin and the muscle tone of any prepubescent boy. His hands then moved down to Joe’s pants. His fingers moved to button of Joe’s jeans and he tutted with disapproval as he struggles to get it unfastened. He looked Joe in eye as he struggled and said in an almost disappointed tone ”little boys do not need to be messing with complicated buttons and zippers this is ridiculous.” Joe looked away at the admonishment and a tear trailed down his cheek. He felt the same shame and guilt burn his tummy the same way he always did when he knew he had disappointed his parental figure. Tim’s fingers found atheist button hole and worked the button threw quickly. He then allowed Joe’s pants to drop and pool around his ankles. Tim’s annoyance softened when he saw his sad little boy. He sighed and reached up to wipe away Joe’s tears ”oh baby, it's okay I'm here now and I'll take care of everything, we’ll just have to do a little better from now on won't we” Joe nodded fervently not even quite sure what he was agreeing to, just knowing that he needed to make his Tim happy with him and show that he would be a good little boy. Tim nodded too ”right then, step out for me baby boy” Joe obeyed at once looking at Tim as he left his clothes behind and stood there in nothing but his boxer shorts. He shivered slightly as he felt a chill run through his almost nude body yet even as he started to feel slightly cold a feeling of warmth spread through him at the certain knowledge that he once again belonged completely to Tim. He was subject to his rules and domination but he was also object of his love and devotion. Most of all belonging to Tim meant that he was free from all decisions and stress and safe from all harm. Even if it also meant that he was just small child, more accurately he was Tim’s baby boy. Tim eyed his child and former roommate taking note of Joe’s underwear. he knew this would be the last time the little boy wore boxers. He took Joe’s hand again and this time he pulled the little boy onto his lap. He gave Joe a squeeze and began to rock slightly ”missed you so much baby boy” Joe sighed contentedly and leaned his head against Tim’s shoulder. As Tim’s large hands began to gently rub and kneed his back ”missed you too” he whispered just loud enough for Tim to hear. Tim hummed for just a minute, as he Rocked his little boy giving them both time to once again get used to their dynamic, to being a family. He cleared his throat ”I’m so sorry baby, I'm so so sorry that I went away and left you all alone, you know I asked you to come when I moved but you said you couldn't and we weren't even living together. I was in that crappy apartment with no money and you were at least back with your Aunt and Uncle so I figured it might be okay. I mean at least you had a place to sleep and food to eat. but I was wrong to leave you and I'm sorry. It's obvious just by the way you've been dressing that you've forgotten who and what you are, that you're not an adult or even a big boy. You're just a baby, my baby and I'm here now to take care of everything to take care of you. I promise you never have to worry about anything ever again I'm home now”. He stopped for just a moment before saying the words they were both waiting for, the words they both needed to hear ”its okay baby boy daddy's here” he dropped a kiss on Joes forehead ”daddys right here now baby” Joes breath caught as he heard Tims words then without warning he burst into tears sobbing out years of anger, frustration and anxiety. Tim said nothing he simply rocked and rocked his little boy. Once Joe’s crying had died down Tim kissed both of his cheeks before continuing ”I'm so sorry baby and I promise daddy will never go anywhere ever again. I know this just have been so hard for you, I mean you spent 5 years as daddy's baby then you had to pretend to be a big boy but that's over now, you'll never ever have to be anything other than the tiny little baby you are ever again. Joe seemed momentarily calmed by these words but suddenly he went ridged in Tim’s arms. He pulled back trying to get free. When it became clear that that wasn't an option he looked at Tim with worry in his eyes and asked “what about Julie, she can't know about this...I” Joe was silenced as Tim put a finger to his lips ”oh now now none of that, that sounds like a worry to me, is it your job to worry baby?” Joe whined but shook his head ”no, cause I'm little” Time nodded ”such a smart little guy, whats you're job” Joe had a small spasm ”to be a...” the words seemed to get stuck in his throat. He paused to swallow then continued ”to be a good little baby and obey my daddy” Tim smiled and dropped a kiss on Joes hair ”that’s right baby and can you remember what daddy’s job is” Joe paused before reciting from memory ”to make grown up choices and take care of me and know whats best for me cause I'm just a little baby” Tim nodded ”that’s exactly right baby, such a good little boy so I don't want you to worry about anything, Daddy will take care of everything from now on” Joe closed his eyes and without thinking about it folded himself into Tim’s side as he breathed away the anxiety he felt. He reminded himself that he was a baby and his only job was to trust his daddy. This somehow made it all better. Blinking he pushed himself off Tim’s shoulder and looked at the bigger man wondering what came next. Tim gave Joe’s neck a little squeeze ”come on munchkin I think it's time we got you in the tub, it’s getting kind of late” Joe looked at Tim and flushed pink ”no umm no I take showers now and I can do it all by myself I'm good at showers I promise” he chewed his lip nervously. Tim squeezed Joe to him ”now now baby boy you know how daddy feels when you tell fibs now whats the rule” Joe sighed, Closing his eyes, he could picture the white board like it was in this room ”little boys Are given baths and never ever stand in the tub cause it's dangerous” Tim nodded gently ”so no more showers for daddy's little boy you're only little and it's not safe” Seeing no choice Joe simply nodded into Tim’s shoulder where his head had once again settled. Tim shifted Joe in his arms so he was cradled like the baby he was and stood. Tim felt a shiver of contentment pass through his body. He had almost forgotten how much he loved holding his baby. Joe was perfect for him to hold. He was light as a feather and small enough to easily fit in Tim’s arms and lap. He was skinny without being bony, on the contrary he was soft and padded. It was like holding an actual toddler which is exactly what Joe was to Tim. Giving the tiny boy cradled in his arms a little squeeze Tim carried Joe up the stairs to the bathroom. As Joe was carried up the stairs towards his first bath in 3 years he was very aware of the fact that he was about to be naked and totally exposed to his daddy as well as the fact that he had no choice or control in what was about to happen or anything really. He was a baby and daddy had total control. He belonged to daddy. When they walked into the bathroom Tim put Joe on his little feet in front of the toilet and without asking tugged down the boys boxers so they pooled at his ankles. Automaticly Joe’s hands flew to cover his privates. Tim gave a tut and pushed Joe’s hands aside with a light slap ”never ever hide yourself from daddy” he admonished “you know better baby boy now sit and make tinkles while I fill the tub please” Joe nodded and obeyed. As he hopped up on the toilet seat his feet left the floor leaving his discarded underwear behind. Joe wasn't at all surprised when Tim scooped them up and threw them in the trash before turning and going to his knees to fill the bath. Joe closed his eyes, boxers were another thing he'd be saying goodbye to. Tim turned on the taps and adjusted the water temperature humming as he did so. Once he was satisfied the water was not too hot or too cold he turned back to his boy ”I don't hear you making pee pee baby, do you need daddy to help you sweet boy” Joe shook himself from his thoughts and looked at Tim ”I... No daddy, it's just hard to go with someone else in here, even you. I need privacy” he said the last part as an apology. Tim smiled and stroked Joe’s cheek ”well you best get used to it munchkin. Are you allowed in here by yourself? what's daddy’s rule?” Joe cleared his throat and dutifully recited ””little boys aren't allowed in the bathroom or the kitchen by their own selves cause it's dangerous and they need grownups to watch them” Tim took Joe’s face in his hands and lightly kissed his lips ”thats exactly right baby, such a good little boy, you make daddy so happy. Now please go pee pee like a good little baby and we’ll have no more talk about privacy” Joe nodded and looked away torn between sadness at the rebuff and the pleasure he always felt when daddy gave him hugs and kisses, Tim was nothing if not affectionate with his little boy. A sudden thought struck Joe and he looked at Tim in near panic. He took a breath to calm himself before he asked ”umm daddy does this mean I need to use my special potty again” Joe grimaced just thinking about the small red training potty he had been forced to used all though college after Tim had forbid him from using the big boy bathroom by himself. Tim nodded and smiled “such a good memory munchkin of course you’ll get to you you’re special potty again in fact I bought 4 so we can put them all around the house. That will make things much easier won’t it baby” Not meeting Tim’s eyes Joe nodded even as he worked to stifle a sob. “yes daddy” he said in a tiny voice tired of waiting Tim took hold of Joe’s tiny member with one hand and began to gently press on his soft tummy and lower abdomen with the other “this is much better isn’t it baby and actually I forgot you really shouldn't be touching your baby bits should you” Tim whined at the sudden intrusion but nodded “no daddy, it’s naughty for little boys only daddy should touch my tiny weeny little penie” he said remembering Tim’s favorite name for his private parts. Tim smiled and continued his assault “my good boy now go peepee baby boy it’s getting late and we need to get you in the tub” The small bit of pressure both physical and emotional was all it took and as if on commend Joe immediately started to pee. Joe was relieved as he quickly felt his stream slow and stop. He looked up at Tim “all done Daddy, no more peepee” Tim gave Joe’s diminutive penis a little shake to get out any last drops “are you sure baby, I don’t want you going potty in the tub” Joe rolled his eyes but nodded “yes daddy, I’m sure I promise no more peepee” Tim nodded and ripped off some nearby toilet paper. He wadded it up and dapped at Joe’s penis. Once he was satisfied that there would be no drops he stood “ok baby boy you may stand” Joe obeyed but didn’t move knowing what came next. With the tissue still in his hand Tim reached down and gave Joes bum a wipe then inspected it. Shaking his head he said “Joey you haven’t been wiping very well, but no matter that’s daddy’s job now” Tim gave Joe another wipe and once he felt the boy was properly clean he threw the paper in the toilet and gave it a flush “now what baby boy” he asked Joe who was standing there as if frozen seemed to come out of a dream “umm now daddy washes our hands” “That’s right baby” Tim agreed as he lead the way to the sink and turned on the water. He waited for Joe to take his position in front of the sink before standing behind him. He grabbed the soap and cupping Joes tiny hands in his large ones proceeded to wash both at the same time “there we go baby nice and clean” Tim turned off the water Joe knew that it was daddy’s opinion that he was much too little to handle washing his hands or anything by himself and seeing as it was daddy’s opinion that mattered he stayed perfectly still and allowed daddy to do what he wanted. Once Tim pronounced that he was done Joe looked up “thank you daddy” he squeaked. Tim took Joe by the shoulders and turned him around. Once they were facing each other Tim pulled Joe close and enfolded the little boy in his arms “I love my little baby so so much, more then anything else in the whole world” Joe couldn’t help but melt into Tim’s embrace “love you too daddy” he mumbled into Tim’s shoulder. As Tim pulled away Joe was touched by the unshed tears he wiped from his eyes. “I’m just so happy my baby is home with daddy” Tim said as way of explanation “now let’s get you in the tub” he held out his hand. Joe silently took Tim’s hand as he was lead to the waiting tub. Once they were there. Joe stopped and waited relying on their old choreography to know what came next. Wordlessly Tim reached out and hooked Joe under the armpits and easily lifting him off his feet before sitting him in the full bathtub. Joe closed his eyes as his body was enveloped in the warm water. He felt all of the tension leave his body as he leaned against the back of the tub. Joe’s role in the bath ritual had been defined long ago. He knew his job was to do nothing but obey while daddy took care of everything for him. Tim wasted no time in locating a nearby washcloth. He dipped it into the warm water then used a recently purchased bottle of baby body wash to create lather and suds. Smiling he started to gently wash Joe”s tummy making sure to get inside the boys tiny belly button before moving to his shoulders. Tim smiled at the giggles he was receiving before moving on to Joe”s neck and arms. Tim was pleased at Joe”s docility and compliance. He paid close attention to his boys armpits before getting more soap and working his way up the little boys neck to his face. Once Tim was satisfied that Joe was clean from the waist up he knew it was time to go lower. He started with with Joes tiny feet. In truth they were probably his favorite part of his boys body. Tim could remember the first time they met, it was Joe’s feet that made him realized this boy was meant to be his. Tim was sitting in his new dorm room waiting to meet his roommate when he heard a tiny knock at the door. He stood and opened the door to find a worried and confused looking little boy standing there. The boy wasn’t even 5 feet tall. He had light bling hair and bright blue eyes that conveyed anxiety and fear. The little boy opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He swallowed hard and looked at Tim as if for help. Tim gave the little boy what he hoped was a reassuring smile and put his hand on the kids shoulder “hey little guy, are you lost, I know I bet your big brother or sister goes here don’t they? Did you get separated from your mommy and daddy helping them to move in? I can help you find them” he looked around as if expecting the boy’s parents to come running up the hall any second. The tiny boy in front of him just shook his head. Tim sighed “let’s start with this, what’s your name sweetheart” The little boy looked horrified. He opened his mouth again and all but whined “no I ummm I live here, I’m Joe, your roommate Joe” his statement sounded more like a question as his words died away. Tim shook his head as if to clear his thoughts “are you sure… I mean I’m sorry little buddy you’re just so little” Tim quickly eyed the little boy taking in his pixie like appearance, his small stature but landing almost immediately on his shoes. He couldn’t believe that a guy his age could fit into shoes that small, could have such tiny feet. Tim heard a tiny squeak as Joe scuffed his sneaker against the floor and he knew right then that Joe wasn’t meant to wear shoes, Joe was meant to be barefoot. Shoes were for grownups and big boys and Joe was neither of those things. Joe was just a little boy and though he didn’t know it yet Joe was going to be his little boy. Tim wasn’t gay he knew what he was feeling was love at first sight. He wasn’t exactly sure what kind of love but he did know that this little boy was meant to be his. Tim smiled, a plan already half formed “sorry kiddo, come in, come in this is your room too. Just one rule I don’t want you wearing shoes or socks inside so could you just take them off and leave them by the door” if Joe thought this was odd he said nothing, he simply nodded as he obeyed toeing off his shoes then peeling off his socks and balling them up as he stuffed them in his left sneaker. Tim watched this process silently and almost gasped audibly when Joe removed the first tiny foot from from his little shoe. As small as Joe’s shoes were, they were at least a size too big for Joe. This was unacceptable to Tim’s mind, he decided that as soon as possible, maybe even that night he would take Joe shopping. He couldn’t wait to take Joe into the little boys section to shop for shoes and there would be no more wearing too big shoes that just looked like smaller versions of what adults wore, from then on there would be no socks or complicated laces to deal with. Joe would only wear slip on shoes like flip flops and clogs and those would only be worn when absolutely necessary. Tim would make sure to get everything a half size too small so that Joe could still fit them on his tiny feet but would have some extra incentive to slip off his shoes the moment they weren’t absolutely necessary. Tim smiled again at the thought of Joe tugging on his shirt and asking in a small voice “can I be barefoot now” before long it would be a battle to get Joe to wear shoes at all and this was the first step. Tim nodded they would definitely be going shopping that night and not just for shoes, there were so many options in the boys section just perfect for someone Joe’s size. A whole new wardrobe was in order. Tim was shaken from his thoughts as a now barefoot Joe waited at the door Tim ushered him in with a friendly arm around his shoulder. If Joe noticed that despite his request Tim wore shoes he didn’t say anything not that it mattered, very quickly Joe would have to get used to the fact that grownups and little boys have very different rules. Tim couldn’t wait to get to know his new roommate! A huge smile crossed his face as he shut the door. Tim smiled at the memory as he dipped his hand into the bath water wrapping his large fingers around Joe’s little foot he lifted it out of the bath water. Tim loved how Joe’s whole foot was dwarfed by his hand. He took just a second to lay the palm of his hand against the sole of Joe’s foot as he had done so many times in the past. This little game was a subtle reminder to Joe of how tiny he truly was and how much power strength his daddy had in contrast. Although those things had been clearly evident to the little boy since the moment he walked though the door, a subtle reminder of their respective places in the hierarchy was never a bad thing. Tim held Joe’s delicate foot in his hand and made a small tutting sound “look at that baby” Tim wiggled his large fingers against the sole of Joe’s foot “you’re still just as tiny as you were in collage, have you grown even a little” Tim gazed at Joe already knowing the answer but wanting to hear the little boy confirm it” Joe froze for a second before giving a little shrug “I… no Daddy I’m still the same size” he seemed to hide himself in the water as he spoke. Tim nodded “hmmm well then Baby it’s a good thing you’re back with daddy isn’t it, I mean you just can’t take care of you’re self can you?” Knowing the correct response Joe shook his head a bit sadly and said ”no daddy I’m way too little and I need a grownup… I need my daddy” Tim looked from Joe’s foot to his eyes “that's right baby but don’t worry daddy will take care of you from now on, you’re safe” he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on the sole of Joe’s foot before gently washing it with soap and water. He repeated the process and placed another chased kiss on the other sole before lowering it back into the bath. Tim made fast work of washing Joe’s little legs and thighs before stopping briefly, this was his other favorite part “almost done baby we just need do you’re little dinky” he gave a mischievous smile “but I can’t seem to find it” Joe remembered this embarrassing game and groaned “it’s there daddy, I promise but it’s tiny just like me so it’s hard to find” Tim pretended to stare then said “ohhh I see it now, but why is your peepee so baby sized” he reached in to wash the tiny member. Giggling in spite of himself Joe responded just like he had been trained “I’m a baby daddy so my peepee is just baby sized like I am” Tim finished up his task happy to see that despite the years, the training he had put in place to keep Joe from getting hard without permission still seemed to be effective. The boy stayed soft the whole time he was being washed. Tim looked up at Joe “ I guess that’s no bigger either is it Baby”. All Joe could do was shake his head. “Let’s do you’re hair now baby then we can get you out of the tub” Tim grabbed the baby shampoo and squirted it into his hand lathering them up before messaging the shampoo into Joe’s blond locks. The tiny boy closed his eyes and gave a groan of pleasure and contentment as his head was messaged. Tim smiled, he loved knowing that he had the ability to make his little boy feel safe and loved with his own hands. Once he was satisfied that Joe’s downy blond hair was clean he stopped scrubbing and used the sprayer attachment to rinse his little boy. Replacing the nozzle Tim hit the switch to drain the tub before reaching behind him to find the hooded teddy bear towel he had prepared for his baby. Joe watched as the water level lowered knowing he wasn’t allowed to move or stand in the tub. He waited until his daddy dropped a fuzzy towel around his shoulders and rubbed him all around to help sop up the water. Tim then dropped the hood over Joe’s head before lifting the little boy into his arms. “ let’s go find you something to wear baby boy”. Without conscious thought Joe clung to his daddy as they made their way to Tim’s bedroom. As they entered the bedroom Tim gave the boy in his arms a little bounce “this is our room sweetheart” Joe was shaken “our room daddy? You mean I’m gonna sleep in here? With you?” Tim carried Joe over to the large bed “ yes baby we’ll share for now, I didn’t have time to set up your crib yet besides, I’ve missed my little boy so much and it will be just like old times” Joe nodded, he’s wasn’t sure why this came as a surprise to him, during thier fist week as roommates Tim had ordered extra tall safety rails for Joe’s bed and once they were set up they had become a fixture all four years of college. From that point on Tim would only refer to Joe’s bed as his crib. Joe had to admit that that made some sense since a crib is what his bed most closely resembled. Tim made it quite clear to Joe that crib was then only correct term for where he slept and would ignore him if he called his bed anyway else. If anyone ever asked about the crib like structure they were told that it was a necessary safety precaution because Joe fell out of bed. Though this caused Joe endless embarrassment it seemed to be effective as neither Joe or Tim were never questioned beyond that point. The crib was a clear symbol of Joe’s status but It was primarily used for naps and punishment. On the first night they were living together, Joe woke up in the middle of the night crying from a nightmare and not sure where he was. Waking up himself, Tim worked to calm his tiny roommate before lifting the boy into his arms and taking him back to his bed where they both fell asleep easily. It was never discussed again but Joe spent the next 4 years sleeping in daddy’s bed which was clearly what he needed as he never had another nightmare. At least until after graduation, sadly over the last 3 years Joe had been plagued with almost nightly bad dreams, he couldn’t help but wonder if being back in daddy’s bed and arms would change that. Placing his baby on the bed Tim continued to rub the boy gently with the fluffy towel until he was satisfied that Joe was completely dry. He then stroked Joe’s cheek “just sit tight baby while daddy finds you something to wear” “Oh um ah I brought clothes Daddy, they’re just in my bag, we can go get them” even as Joe said the words he realized that the clothes he brought were part of a previous life when he was pretending to be a grownup and before he was once again Tim’s child. He knew that he would never wear those clothes again. As if to confirm this Tim gave the little boy a smile “I’ll take care of those later baby, but little boys don’t really need those kind of clothes, do they” he turned and began rummaging though his top drawer” “No daddy, they don’t” Joe sighed and stared at his toes as he waited like a good boy. He could be a good boy. Momentarily Tim spun around holding two bags in his hands “look what daddy has baby boy” Joe’s eyes were drawn to the bags in Tim’s hands. He couldn’t help but groan as his brain registered what his daddy held. Both hands held an unopened package of little boys underwear. The pack in his left hand were emblazoned with Superman graphics while the ones in his right were Spider-Man themed. Tim held them up in emphasis “you remember how this goes sweetheart, do you want to be spider baby or super baby tonight” Joe remembered how this particular game worked Tim always provided him with colorful, childish underwear usually superhero themed and he would always let Joe choose which kind he wanted to wear but he always forced him to replace the word man with baby. Joe sighed “can I be spider baby daddy” Tim nodded happily “of course baby boy excellent choice” he dropped the Superman underwear back in the drawer the ripped open the Spider-Man pack. Pulling out a fresh pair Tim unfolded them and stretched them out before walking back to the foot of the bed where Joe sat. Tim knelt down before his little boy and held the underwear open “come on baby step in” Without hesitation Joe scampered off the bed to obey. Joe stood in front of Tim and knowing just want to do put both hands on his daddy’s shoulders to steady himself. Then he stepped into the waiting underwear one foot at a time. Once Joe had stepped in Tim easily pulled the little undies up his little boys legs and over his bubble butt. He pulled them in place with a little snap and gave Joe’s bum a couple of love taps “there you go baby all nice and dressed”. Tim stood and held out his hand “come on baby let’s go downstairs and find some dinner” Joe knew better than to expect to be dressed in anything else while at home so he simply nodded and took Tim’s hand “what’s for dinner Daddy” he asked as Tim lead him out the door and to the stairs. Tim gave his boy’s hand a squeeze “you’ve been such a good baby for daddy tonight sweetheart so you can choose, do you want Mac and cheese baby boy or chicken nuggets, what will it be?” Joe gave an involuntary shiver of delight. daddy knew all of his favorites. He practically shook with delight and jumped up and down “oh oh mac and cheese please daddy, mac and cheese” Tim chuckled at the little boy’s excitement “sure baby that sounds good to me” when they reached the top of the stairs Joey lifted his arms in the air to be picked up without even thinking about it. Tim noted this with pride and rewarded his boy with a kiss on the cheek as he lifted him up and settled him on his hip. Just as they made it down stairs the door bell rang. Tim could feel the tiny boy in his arms freeze and go ridged. He gave Joe a reassuring squeeze “ohh baby it’s okay, I promise it’s just Corey, the neighbor boy from next door, I forgot that I asked him to come over about now to introduce himself to you, I must say he has excellent timing” As they made their way to the door Joe squirmed and whined “no daddy, I’m not even dressed he can’t see me like this” Tim stopped for a moment and shifted Joe in his arms so he could look into his boy’s eyes “now now baby we’ve talked about this false sense of modesty you seem to have developed, remind me, what do little boys wear at home” Joe sighed, he was trapped and he knew it. There was only one right answer still he felt embarrassed. He hid his face in daddy’s neck as he answered “just their little undies daddy and I’m spider baby”. Even while hating himself a bit for giving in so easily Joe knew his words were true and this was just another part of his life as daddy’s baby boy. Tim gently kissed Joe’s forehead and temple while rubbing his bare back “there’s daddy’s good, good little baby, such a good boy” Despite himself, Joe glowed with pride. Daddy thought he was good, he was a good little boy. Tim resumed his corse to the door but stopped before opening it “now baby what does Daddy expect when we meet someone new, one of daddy’s friends” Joe took a deep breath “umm use pretty manners, and be good, listen and don’t call grownups by their names it’s rude” Tim gave his boy a squeeze “that’s exactly right baby, you have such a good little memory” reaching out Tim and grabbed the door knob then opened the door. In a cheerful voice Tim greeted their visitor “hi Corey, come in, come in. Thanks for coming” Tim moved aside to allow the new person inside. Despite his anxiety, Joe’s curiosity eventually won out. He opened his eyes just a tiny bit and to see a tall boy with a round face and light brown hair. He couldn’t tell how old the boy was . He was definitely taller than Joe but who wasn’t. If he had to guess he would say maybe 13 or 14. Tim moved aside to allow Corey to enter. Knowing Joe was nervous Tim worked to sooth him by bouncing and rocking him in his arms as he addressed their guest. “Corey I just wanted you to come by to meet my little boy since you two will be spending some time together” Joe was confused by this conversation but not enough to raise his head from his daddy’s neck. He felt Tim give him a little squeeze and he let out a small whine” Tim chuckled “Corey this is my little boy, Baby Joey. Baby this is Corey, he lives next door with his parents.” When Joe only squirmed in response Tim went on “sorry Corey, he just being a little bit shy, you know how babies can be” Corey nodded “oh sure, I see this all the time. It’s normal for little guys to be shy around strangers, new grownups can be scary” he stepped closer and reached out a hand to lightly tickle the sole of Joe’s foot “hey there little guy, I’m Corey I’m gonna be babysitting you sometimes when your daddy has grownup stuff to do and I really hope we can be friends” Joe groaned internally a babysitter, this boy was going to be his babysitter. He was overwhelmed by embarrassment but couldn’t see any way out. Just like in college if daddy made a choice all Joe could do was obey. Still he resolved to not move from his hiding spot in daddy’s shoulder until Corey was gone. Then he felt the first tickle. He shivered and let out a high pitched giggle. As Corey continued to assault his soft sole a smile came to Joe’s lips as he gave a little kick. “Mhhhhm” he whined. Corey smiled “there’s a happy little guy” he reached out and repeated the action. This time he was rewarded with a longer giggle and involuntary eye contact from Joe. “There he is”. Corey beamed and looked into Joes eyes “hey there cutie” he reached out to stroke Joe’s cheek “it’s going to be okay buddy I can’t wait to get to know you and I promise we’ll be best buds soon okay” Not seeing any choice in the matter Joe gave a small nod to this near stranger. Tim gave Joe another little bounce and kissed his hair “there’s daddy’s good boy, no need to be shy, Corey is a friend of mine and I know he really wants to be your friend too baby” Tim looked from Joe to Corey and asked “can I leave him with you for a few minutes Corey, I really need to get Joey some dinner before it gets to be bedtime” Corey nodded. “That’s totally fine, we’ll just get to know each other for a bit” “Great” Tim gently pulled a reluctant Joe from his hip and placed him on his feet. He leaned in close to Joe and took his face in his hands “I expect you to be a very good boy for Corey baby, you remember what to do” after getting a nervous nod from Joe Tim smiled and kissed the boy’s forehead then stood up straight and made his way to the kitchen. Finding himself alone with his newly appointed babysitter Joe took a deep breath, he knew what was expected of him. It was the same thing he had to do when ever daddy introduced him to a new grownup. He stepped forward “hi umm sorry about earlier, I get shy around new grownups like you” he nervously rubbed his arm and studied his toes “ like daddy said, I’m baby Joey” he shrugged “you can just call me Joey or baby or whatever you want it’s up to you but umm I’m not allowed to call grownups by their first names, it’s rude for babies like me so can I call you Mr. Corey or Uncle Corey” Corey took Joe’s chin in his hand and forced eye contact “it’s also rude for little boys not to look grownups in the eye baby boy and I’d hate to have to spank your bum bum on our first day together so can you work on that for me baby, can you be a good boy?” Joe froze he hated this and be didn’t think Corey was even allowed to spank him but he realized that he didn’t want to find out so he nodded “yes, I’ll be good” Joe said sadly. Corey smiled “that’s great baby and you can call me uncle Corey since we’ll be spending so much time together. Joe wasn’t really sure that was true either, he didn’t even live there but he knew better than to argue with an adult especially one who was now his uncle. “Yes uncle Corey he softly intoned. Corey smiled “let’s go sit on the sofa baby and have a little chat”. He took Joe’s hand and led the smaller boy to the couch where he sat down and pulled Joe onto his lap. Joe couldn’t believe that he was sitting on the lap of someone at least 10 years younger than him. Still, he had to admit Corey was big and strong. He was sure that Corey would be strong enough to lift and carry him easily. Joe opened his mouth to ask the question he had been wondering since he was introduced to this boy “ummm uncle Corey how old are you?” Corey smiled kindly down at Joe “it’s a really big number buddy but let’s see if you can figure it out, I’m as many as all of your tiny little toes plus one finger, can you guess how many that is little guy?” Joe deflated “that… you’re 11” he said as much to himself as Corey. He couldn’t believe it here he was sitting on the lap of an 11 year old boy, a boy who was already a giant to him and who he had to call uncle and treat as a grownup. A boy who would now be one of his regular caregivers. Joe just knew that soon enough Corey would be bathing him, dressing him and putting him to bed. This thought, more than any other truly brought home the fact that Joe was a baby and there was no way he could deny it to himself or anyone. As much as part of him hated this, he was also shocked at the feeling of contentment this brought. The reality was that he was a baby. Without warning Joe felt tears come to his eyes and like any baby dealing with big feelings he started to sob. Corey had been about to congratulate Joe on his math skills when the little boy started to wail. Instead he quickly changed tacts wrapping his arms around his tiny charge then pulling Joe into a hug. He then began to rock “it’s okay baby uncle Corey’s here, I’ll take care of you. just breath for me little guy, such a good baby” Corey kept up the soothing monologue as he rocked and waited for Joe to settle. As Corey held him Joe laid his head on his babysitter’s shoulder. He couldn’t help but notice Corey’s manly smell which reminded him just a bit of his daddy. Without thinking he snuggled further into Corey’s neck and inhaled finding the musk familiar and comforting. The thought of Daddy calmed Joe. He took a few deep breaths as his tears dried and with a few last sniffles. He was all cried out . He laid there quietly leaving nothing but a wet spot on Corey’s shirt from his leaking eyes and nose. Corey gently rubbed Joe’s back as he felt the little boy calming in his arms “there we go baby nice and calm, such a good baby” he waited for Joe’s tears to stop entirely before asking “what happened little guy, what made you so sad?” Joe lifted his head and looked at Corey. Averting his eyes he shrugged “I don’t know, it’s just everything is different and things are changing and can’t do anything cause I’m just a baby and too little” Corey smiled “it’s hard being a baby isn’t it, but you know what? You’re lucky because you don’t have to worry about anything. You have Daddy to take care of you and me to help and what do you think your job is?” Joe knew exactly what to say “umm to be a good baby and listen to you and daddy” he said softly. Corey hugged Joe and tucked Joe’s head under his chin. “Such a smart little boy, and if you can do that for Daddy and me everything will be just fine, you’ll see” Joe took another deep breath. He felt that what Corey said was true, his daddy would always love and take care of him and if Daddy thought that Corey was big enough and mature enough to help take care of him then he had to trust that. He had to trust his uncle Corey. In spite of his very real embarrassment Joe was already starting to view Corey as a parental figure. This 11 year old was a grownup and Joe was just a little baby that was the reality. Joe was wasn’t sure how long they sat there before he heard footsteps. Looking up he saw his daddy enter the room and look from him to Corey and back again. Without a thought he raised his arms making a silent request for his daddy to hold him. Tim’s heart melted as he saw his little boy reach for him. Without hesitation he went to Joe and lifted him into his arms for a cuddle “hi baby” he inhaled, breathing in Joe’s freshly bathed scent”. Tim smiled and kissed Joe’s cheek as he turned turned his attention back to Corey “was he good for you” Corey stood and eagerly nodded “he was great, the perfect little guy, just a little sad, but nothing I couldn’t handle” Tim looked down and studied Joe’s face noting the tear tracks on his chubby little cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumbs “daddy’s one true love” he whispered adoringly to his little boy pressing their foreheads together. Corey made a little noice “um so I should probably be going but I can’t wait to start helping with this little guy” he gave Joe’s foot a tickle “bye little buddy” Tim nodded “that’s probably best, it’s getting late and I need to get my baby fed. Thanks so much for coming Corey, it was actually a huge help and I’ll let you know about tomorrow night” he placed Joe on his feet “go give uncle Corey hugs and kisses baby boy, he has to go home” he gave Joe’s bum a motivating pat. Joe froze feeling overwhelmingly shy but shook himself, he should have expected this. Since early in their relationship Daddy had always made Joe say hello and goodbye to their friends and other grownups by giving kisses and hugs. It never ceased to amaze Joe how many people were happy to receive kisses and cuddles from him. In college he was shocked that even guys his own age weren’t embarrassed by the open show of affection. On the contrary, several of the guys on his floor would seek out a hug or a cuddle when they were having a bad day. Daddy used to joke that Joe was the dorm therapy baby. As Joe hesitated Corey opened his arms wide and motioned for him to come closer. Joe obeyed stepping into the larger boys embrace. Corey wrapped his arms around Joe and squeezed then he release the little boy and tapped his own cheek. Leaning close on his tip toes Joe gave his uncle Corey a dutiful kiss on the cheek. Corey gave Joe another squeeze “bye bye little guy, see you real soon”. Joe felt his daddy’s hand on his shoulder and they walked Corey toward the door “yah buy uncle Corey see you soon” Joe said as Corey walked out the door. “Thanks again” Tim said as ge closed the door behind Corey. He then turned back to his boy “let’s go to the kitchen baby dinner is about done” Overcome by anger, Joe almost glared at Tim. For the first time that night he had steel in his eyes “why would you embarrass me like that!” He stomped his bare foot and then all but deflated “Corey’s only 11” he said in a near whine. Tim’s expression turned dark he placed a firm hand on Joe’s shoulder “that’s right little boy Corey is 11 and how big are you exactly?” Joe squirmed. When Tim called him little boy it was never a good thing. He gulped “I know I’m only little daddy, I’m a baby but” he was stopped mid sentence when Tim put a finger to his lips. “That’s exactly right sweetheart, you are just a little baby aren’t you which is why daddy isn’t going to punish you for questioning me right now and forgetting your place but let’s review, do babies make choices or know what’s best for themselves?” He waited for an answer Now thoroughly intimidated Joe shook his head “I… no no daddy you make choices and you know best, I’m just a little tiny baby” Joe tried to make himself as small as possible” Tim messaged his boys shoulder “that’s right you’re just a little baby and 11 is much bigger than a tiny baby isn’t it” Joe nodded emphatically “”yes daddy much bigger” Tim smiled “good so you’re going to be a good baby for uncle Corey right little boy” Joe nodded again “yes daddy I’ll be good for uncle Corey I promise” Tim let go of Joe’s shoulder and offered him his hand “that’s a good boy now then we won’t have anymore silly talk from little babies will we” Joe shook his head as he took daddy’s hand “Okay then” Tim said “let’s go eat” he took Joe’s hand and led him to the kitchen. As they walked into the kitchen, Joe looked around and couldn’t help but smile. The table was only set for 1 and he knew it was meant for him. The table setting consisted of a plastic plate with SpongeBob and his friends smiling cheerfully all over it. It had been Joe’s from their college days and he wasn’t surprised that daddy had saved it. On top of the plate sat the matching spoon. Joe moved his eyes to the place next to his and knew what he would find. There sat a single fork on a napkin. Daddy allowed Joe to try and feed himself as long as he could use a spoon. Joe was never allowed to play with forks or knives as they were considered much too dangerous for little babies. For anything that required something other than his spoon Joe could either choose to use his fingers or have daddy feed him. The next thing to catch Joe’s eye was the matching sponge bob sippy cup on the table. In spite of himself, Joe swelled with pride. Daddy considered a sippy cup to be a big boy privilege so Joe must have been a very good boy so far if he got to use his sippy. The final thing Joe noticed was also very familiar to him from his collage days. Sitting atop the chair in front of his plate was a bright blue booster seat, the same one Joe had used all through collage and there was no doubt in his mind that he could still comfortably fit in the toddler seat. Joe didn’t have to wait long to find out for sure, daddy brought him right over to his booster seat and lifted him into it before snapping the safety harness in place. Then without a word Tim took the sippy cup from the table “do you want milk or water baby boy “ he asked in a cheerful tone Joe thought for a moment. He briefly considered pointing out that he hadn’t had his daily allotted one cup of juice but knew that daddy would never go for it so close to bedtime. He didn’t want to press his luck “um milk please daddy” Tim smiled “I love the pretty manners baby boy” he opened the fridge and grabbed the milk. Joes heart dropped as Tim placed his drink on the table but in place of his sippy cup there was now a baby bottle full of milk. He looked from the bottle to Tim “daddy, I thought… why can’t I have my sippy” he asked in full whine. Tim looked his boy straight in the eyes “I put out your big boy cup before you decided to be naughty and question daddy but it’s clear that at least tonight you aren’t big enough for your sippy. As long as you’re good we can try again tomorrow. Just remember you’re big boy cup is a privilege not for naughty little boys” Joe felt like he might cry “But but daddy!” He whined Tim held up a finger and Joe fell silent “careful baby boy, we can always make it the whole weekend unless you’re ready to be a good baby and drink your baba” Joe shook his head “No, no daddy, I’ll be good, I’ll be a good baby and drink my baba!” As if to prove the point Joe reached for his bottle and planted the nipple between his lips and started to nurse. Tim nodded more to himself then to Joe and took Joe’s plate then turned to the stove dished a Joe sized potion on to the colorful dish then placed it on the table in front of his boy. Before sitting down next to Joe Tim reached into a nearby drawer and grabbed a bib then fastened it around the baby’s neck. As Tim took his seat Joe glanced down to see the words Daddy’s boy printed on his bib. He was overcome with equal feelings of contentment and embarrassment which were the feelings that always seemed to fight each other where his daddy was concerned. Now seated Tim looked at his baby “ok sweetheart do you want to feed yourself like a big boy of do you want daddy’s help” Eager to prove what a big boy he was Joe grabbed the nearby spoon “I’m big daddy I can feed my own self” Tim smiled and ruffled Joe’s hair “of course you’re a big boy sweetheart, But you’re still daddy’s baby too, now eat your dinner, it’s getting late” Joe nodded and carefully scooped some Mac and cheese up. He worked hard to balance it on his spoon as he brought the spoon to his mouth. He lost almost half of the spoons contents as he did. Joe blushed he hated to admit it but the bib was a good thing, he was always a messy eater and his hand seemed to get extra wobbly under Daddy’s watchful gaze. Tim just chuckled and used his own fork to gather the macaroni that had fallen onto his boys bib. He then brought the contents to Joe’s lips and waited for him to bite. The rest of the meal fell into a familiar routine alternating between Joe slowly and clumsily working to feed himself with his spoon and Tim using his fork to feed him bites and speed things along. Once Joe’s plate was empty the little boy looked up at daddy and smiled, happily kicking his feet “see daddy I fed my own self just like a big boy” Tim smiled back, he ruffled his boy’s hair and removed his messy bib “you were a lot of help baby now drink your baba” Tim said with a wink. He he waited for Joe to obey before quickly clearing the table. Once everything was put away Tim turned back to Joe with a damp rag in his hand he proceeded to wipe Joe’s hands and face. “okay baby boy, it’s just about bedtime” Joe looked at his daddy then to the nearby clock then back to daddy “but daddy, it’s only 6:45 I still have a whole hour until bedtime cause it’s Friday and I get to stay up late”. Tim made a mental note that he would have to remove all of the digital clocks from the house, his baby didn’t have to be worrying about time, that was daddy’s job. He gave Joe a serious look “I’m sorry baby boy who makes the rules a clock or daddy” Joe knew he was on thin ice so made sure to sound as cute and little as possible, it was what his daddy liked. “You do daddy, you’re in charge of me” he dutifully answered Tim nodded “that’s right baby and can you please remind me about the bedtime rule” Joe thought for just a second “bedtime for little boys like me is 7:15 except on Friday and Saturday when I can can stay up until 7:45 as long as I’ve been good all week and acted like a big boy. I’ve been good daddy I promise” Joe almost begged Tim stroked the boys smooth cheek “you’ve been so good baby and Daddy is so proud of you but what’s the rest of the rule, you may stay up late on the weekend as long as you’re good all week and go o bed by…” he waited for a reply Joe deflated “7:15 all week” he mumbled sadly Tim nodded “exactly baby, do you mean to tell me you’ve gone to bed by bedtime all week because I think that would be a fib” Joe nodded “yes daddy, you’re right” Tim stood “but we will work on that for next week won’t we sweetheart” Joe nodded as he was once again lifted into daddy’s arms and positioned against his firm chest. He didn’t know how he would explain to his wife that he had to go to bed at 7:15 from now on but he just would. Joe was so distracted by his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice them climb the stairs or enter the bedroom he and Tim would share. He was only snapped out of his trance as Daddy gently placed him on the bed. Tim sat on the edge of the bed and started to play with Joe’s hair “now baby, I just want to say that even though you don’t get to stay up late tonight, you have been such a good boy for daddy and I know it’s hard readjusting to all of our rules but you’re doing such a good job little one” Joe couldn’t help but blush “I… thanks daddy and I promise I’ll go to bed by bedtime from now one” Tim cupped the little boys cheek “I know you will baby” he dropped a kiss on Joe’s forehead then his lips “and because you’ve been such a good boy. I think you deserve a visit from Mr. bear” Joe’s breath caught and he felt an overwhelming spasm of excitement as a shiver ran through his body. Daddy called Mr. Bear his special friend and all through college daddy used Mr. Bear to help Joe make stickies . In fact it was the only way Joe was ever allowed to make stickies as little boys weren’t allowed to touch themself and daddy said that Joe’s peepee was so tiny that it was the only way to make it feel good. As much as it embarrassed Joe he had to admit that Daddy was right. No matter how many other ways he tried to make stickies they never ever felt as good as when he got a special visit from Mr. bear. Joe knew that at least some of that was because a visit from mr Bear also meant that Daddy thought he was a very good little boy. Seeing his boys excitement Tim smiled and opened his top drawer. He pulled out a brown and white teddy bear wearing a happy expression. If you looked closely at the bear you would notice several faded spotted created from repeated offerings from a happy little baby and several trips to the washing machine. Seeing his special friend Joe let out a squeal of delight and started to flap his arms and kick his legs. He opened his arms in anticipation and made grabby hands for the bear. Tim smiled at his happy little boy and brought the bear close place it on Joe’s bare chest. Remembering their ritual Joe immediately gave the bear a hug “hi Mr bear. I missed so so much. Thank you for helping me feel good and making me a happy baby” he then gave the bear a kiss and handed it back to his daddy. Tim watched as his little boy did exactly as he was supposed to. He took the bear back and gently almost reverently pulled Joe’s underroos down to his knees revealing Joe’s tiny member. Like every other part of Joe his peepee could only be described as adorable. As if preforming a familiar dance Tim first brought the bear to Joe’s cheek and rubbed it with the soft fur. Once he was rewarded with a happy sigh Tim moved the bear down to stroke Joes soft belly. This elicited a giggle from the baby who was now a quiver with excitement. Finally The soft fur of the bear leaned on Joe’s peepee which was already erect with anticipation. As Tim started to stroke Joe’s baby bits he said “just a tiny little baby, daddy’s good good little boy, only good little babies get to make stickies and you’ve been so good baby so make stickies NOW!” As if on comment Joe exploded into the soft fur of the bear creating what would soon be another faded spot. Tim continued to rub Joe’s privates both teasing and cleaning his baby. He then grabbed a nearby tissue to finish up. By this point Joe was spent. Once he released he collapsed back on to the bed in an after glow and smiled sleepily as his daddy tended to his needs. Tim worked Joes undies back up his legs and set them in place with a small snap. He them lifted Joe up so he was cradled in his arms. Tim Leaned down and gently kissed Joe on the lips then whispered “we need to say good night to Mr. bear don’t we baby then I think he needs a bath” Joe nodded, when Tim brought the slightly sticky bear to his lips he quickly kissed the bear “thank you for helping me be a happy baby Mr. bear, you make me feel so good, have a good bath.” Placing the bear out of sight Tim rubbed Joe’s tummy and watched his eyes close. He knew he should make his baby go to the bathroom and wash up but the little guy had had a long day. “Someone’s a tired little baby” he cooed “close your little eyes sweetheart it’s time for good little babies to go night nights” Hit with a sudden wave of exhaustion Joe obeyed. He fell asleep almost immediately with a contented smile on his face. He was home. He was Daddy’s.

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

A/N: IMPORTANT TO NOTICE Hey all! I hope you're all doing well! Do not worry! I am still working on my other stories but had started this a while ago and felt like I should post it! Just a warning in the beginning that this story will contain a lot of non-con, sexual content and humiliation. If this makes you uncomfortable than I suggest you don't read it! I love seeing comments so I'd love to see everyone's comments! ooOoo Summary: When a young new independent journalist decides to write about something other than the typical run of the mill stories, she is introduced into a new life, just not in the way she expected. ooOoo Chapter 1: MommyslittleBiggurls.com 22 December 2021 Hello Friends! It sure has been a while! I hope you’re all doing well on this frosty morning. Here in Montana, we’re certainly going to have a white Christmas. Sugar and Cookie sure are excited to see Santa and have been extra careful to be good girls; always asking for the potty like good little girls, eating all of their veggies at dinner and making sure to drink all of their babas full of yummy milk! I’m sure you all are experiencing the same with your little ones at the moment, even the disobedient can’t ignore the happy cheer of Christmas. I really can’t believe it’s only been three months since we first adopted our newest little girl, Honey! Of course with new littles, it’s always an adventure and Sugar and Cookie are being the best big sisters they can be! It can be hard, especially around the holidays to deal with an un-regressed, naughty little so that brings me to the topic of today’s post: Punishments. If you're like me or are a new caregiver, it’s never easy training a new little and before they can be our sweet little babies, they will be literal demons! It is never fun but in order to nip that naughty behavior in the bum, punishment is required and it is not always as simple as quick spanking. Listed below, you will find three different punishments to try if you, like me, were at a loss. Punishments: Punishment 1: Corner time with a twist Depending on the severity of the naughty behavior, instruct your little one it's corner time for a certain amount of time. While many, if not all, will just find this incredibly boring and whine, there is a small twist. Listen carefully to these five steps: Take littles’ clothes away (that means no diapers/pullups/or undies as well!), Give a nice soapy cold enema to their bum-bum and insert a buttplug to ensure no dribbles Administer a firm spanking (I’ve found different objects such as a belt or hairbrush to be most effective!) Little will bend down or kneel in the corner with their bum-bum high in the air for everyone to see After a certain amount of time, if the little has not moved from their position, you will instruct the little to tell you what they did wrong and have them beg to release their bodily functions. If you are unsatisfied with their response, even more minutes will be added to corner time Punishment 2: Potty Time with Horsy Let’s get real, we’ve all struggled with littles refusing to go potty in their diapers or on the training toilet and it’s a pain to have to insert enemas and suppositories into screaming littles. That’s how I came up with horsy time. The rocking horse, while meant to be an object of amusement during playtime, can just as quickly be turned into an object of torture. What you need to do is listed below: The little will sit on the rocking horse in only their bottoms, whether that be a diaper or pull-up Place earphones on little and set to the wet diaper hypnosis Instruct the little to rock back and forth and do not stop no matter what and not to mess or wet themselves Plan a certain amount of time and come back when the time is up If the little is still rocking and is dry, they have earned the privilege to go potty. If not, horsy time is extended and the dirty diaper stays on another several hours The constant rhythmic motion combined with hypnosis at the same timing will put the littles right in the mood to have to relieve themselves. How they do it will no longer matter. The added pressure to keep a constant rocking in order to avoid further punishment will take a heavy toll on their mind as well and increase the need for positive behavior. Punishment 3: No Playtime with Teddy If you choose to allow your little to have any sexual release, this punishment can have a rewarding effect. As a human race, we are sexual beings but not everyone deserves or should have such an experience. Littles have gotten it into their minds that they should be allowed to have such experiences, but what do they know? They’re just littles. It is our job as caretakers to instruct and control their urges. If we leave them to their own devices, who knows what will happen? My little girls are allowed one play session a week with Mr. Teddy Bear to release all of their icky cummies by the hand of mommy and daddy. While Rosie and Cookie know being a good girl will lead to happy feelings, Honey is still learning. Orgasm and cum denial or “the tickles and ice cream dance” as we call it, are an excellent way to assert dominance and make them quickly realize who the real grownups are and who is in charge. Mittens or restraints are a must for untrained littles! You never know where their wandering hands will end up! Chastity belts are also a great device, especially if they get a little too excited during playtime and try humping (which is extremely discouraged!) IMPORTANT: It is important to enforce anything sexual is not allowed without the approval, observation, and act by grown-ups because you never know when littles might accidentally injure themselves! I hope you all enjoyed my little list and hopefully it helps you on your journey to having a regressed little! It may seem tough at times but we’ve all gone through it before (I currently am!) Stay tuned for next time and meanwhile, have a Merry Christmas! Love, Mommy Bree ooOoo The sound of the ding signaling the post had been successfully posted was a happy feeling to say the least. Unknown outside the world of ageplay, Bree Hawthorne was as famous as could be within the community. With over ten thousand followers and readers, people tuned in from all over the world to read about their simple little family. Being a blogger on top of a mommy had become her full time job and she didn’t regret a single second of it. She always knew she wanted to have a family and her love for blogging couldn’t have been a more perfect combination. There were so many who envied to fill the role of a Hawthorne little but only so few could actually meet the requirements. That’s why they had taken to unique means of obtaining their little girls. Kidnapping was a bit too harsh a term. They preferred adoption. Did the public need to know that? No. Would they ever find out? Probably not. Looking around outside the large glass windows, the only view for miles was farmland with snow capped mountains in the background. Bloomington, Montana was the perfect place to go to if one didn’t want to be found. They had the freedom to be who they were without any nosey neighbors disrupting their lives. Her husband, coming from old money, allowed them to own lavish homes around the country, buy the newest high-tech adult-baby equipment and pay off those they needed to stay quiet. Everything was as it should be. Everything would soon be perfect. They were our babydolls. Sugar, Cookie, Honey and- “Another post?” Jasper. At the sound of his deep voice, she spun around in the swivel chair. Face to face with her blonde, strong-jawed, blue eyed handsome husband. He was everything she dreamed of in a man. Strong, smart, caring, loyal. A great daddy to their three wonderful girls. What more could a person ask of a spouse? “Yes. I’ve finished just in time for… lunch!” she exclaimed, glancing at the time and shutting down the macbook. “Today’s post was about punishments and I gave the best examples of Honey. How is she doing this morning actually? The baby monitor on her end has been awfully quiet.” she asked, having been in the office the entire morning working. “Sleeping.” was his only response, scowling with his hand over his face. “Do I want to know what happened?” “No.” It was always a struggle to tame the girl and her rebellious behavior and silly dreams. Most often then not her bum was black and blue, littered with marks and bruises. How a five foot, one-hundred-twenty pound girl with not an ounce of body fat had managed to give them this much a fight, they did not know. While the little blonde fought they pushed back just as hard. She would break eventually. They all do. “Sugar and Cookie are in the playpen writing letters to Santa,” that made them crack a smile. “I can feed them while you handle, Honey? I may just take her over my knee again and that’s not what she needs at the moment.” Bree reached out, wrapping her arms around his neck as his face burrowed into her kinky black hair, placing a trail of kisses upon her chocolate colored skin. “So it’s my turn to play the bad mommy,” she mused. “Precisely.” her husband cracked a smile. “It feels so much longer than three months since we got her. Remember?” Oh, how could they forget…

After being disappointed with the lack of ABDL fantasy-adventure stories I decided to create my own. It’s just a silly little thing, but hopefully a bit of fun for those who carry on reading. This is a prelude to the story, so just setting some stuff up here, which may or may not come into play in the future... I dunno, we'll see, might not get that far lol. Either way, the prelude doesn't really have much in the way of ABDL content, purely world-building and story. Hopefully it's still entertaining. I'm uploading chapter 1 as a separate story. This is a re-upload. After some useful comments, I've decided to just upload all the stories in a single topic, which will be updated, and that should make everything easier to follow. Episode 2 will be out in a few weeks (as of 18/12/2021). Law of the Diaper - Prelude - Embos stood at the edge of the water. It crashed far beneath her, obeying only the wind. She had been waiting for her older siblings from across the ocean for a whole hour now, standing in a harsh storm that battered and bruised the cliff face below. Liefyr, her closest brother, had gone to get the others ready. So, she stood alone. The wind howled between her ears and tugged at her hair, and threatened, occasionally, to push her into the waters below. But she was the God of Craft. Embos wore boots of Caerson Steel, strong against the wind, and light to walk in. Each of her sibling gods on this side of the world had given their peoples a gift. Hers was Caerson, a metal both bountiful and useful. Embos hated waiting like this. She needed to do something, to be somewhere, though she didn’t know what on either account. Being the eldest of her siblings, at least of those that left Panthos, Embos felt a great responsibility to the others. A responsibility to nurture and raise. Despite being closer to Liefyr, in age she was similar to her older sibling Vafyr. And that made things complicated. Damn you Vaf, she thought, thinking of the young god. Why had he stayed with the others? Vaf was the weakest of their lot, and certainly wouldn’t be treated as their peer. With Embos and the others, he would be an equal, and great guide for the people here. Her head boiled again with anger, it had been more and more recently. Anger at the war, anger at her elder siblings, anger that she had little power by herself, and anger all she had to rely on were the youngest of gods. No, not anger. Disappointment. Instantly, she felt a pang of shame within her. They are just as valuable, just as powerful in their way. She had to admit, she was surprised at how seriously they were taking it. Normally Pelyr, the youngest of them and the God of Play, convinced Ranos and Liefyr to flunk this sort of thing. Maybe it was because Pelyr would never be able to play again if they failed, that he was taking it so seriously now. Whatever the case, Embos hoped it would last. Another great gust of wind barrelled across the grass, threatening to push Embos into the sea below. Waves crashed against the shore, the ocean’s white teeth foaming against jagged cliffs below. Dull beats, like someone playing the drums, echoed into the sky. The storm whistled around her ears, singing across the ocean. It was a tune she recognised. Looking up, Embos saw her older brother, Vafyr, silhouetted in the ocean mist. He walked on the air itself, using the wind as a path to the safety of the cliff. Around him, the grey mist somehow blushed a bright blue, as if he walked in a halo of sky. It was as if he was the colour of the world. Then again, Embos supposed, I guess he is. Within moments he was stepping onto the rock as if it were still the air, floating across newly budding grass. “Vaf!” Embos couldn’t help but let relief and no small amount of joy flood into her voice. Of all the people they could have sent, this was perhaps the best possible outcome. “Hello sister.” he said calmly, a broad smile across his face betraying any stoicism he might have masked himself with. “They thought you wouldn’t hurt me, so I was sent in place of a messenger.” Vafyr walked to Embos, he was more relaxed than she remembered. “Why would I hurt a messenger? Why would any of us--” “Em, please, I don’t think you’d hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. But that’s not how they think, is it?” Vafyr said as they walked down the shallow incline that led to the village below. Embos saw an opening. Now was the time. Now, after so many years, it was the perfect opportunity to ask. “Then why are you still--” but before Embos could finish, Vafyr cut her off. “I’m sorry, but I cannot say. I have my reasons, and hopefully you will find out soon.” “But I want to know now!” said Embos. She only realised how childish that must have sounded after she’d said it. However, Vaf didn’t seem to mind. He smiled broadly again, a glint in his eye. “Em,” he said, stopping and gently putting his hands on her shoulders. He was a foot taller than she was, towering over her. “I promise, now is not the time, but you will find out.” and that was all he said. Embos knew that was the end of it, she wouldn’t get anything else out of him. Time to move on. They continued their descent to the village. “So, why did you want to speak to us?” Embos asked, “I suppose it would be too much to ask for your loyalty?” The wind picked up again as Vafyr smiled, but the cold never came. Vafyr was too warm for that. “Unfortunately not.” he said, and then he went suddenly serious, his smile fading into what was almost a grimace. “The others want to make a deal with you.” Embos couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. “You’re kidding. After all of this?” she said though a deep, slightly hysterical laughter. “After all you’ve put us through, now you want to make a deal?!” This was utterly ridiculous. Her older siblings never, never, made deals with those who were below them. And now they wanted to make a deal with not only ‘lesser gods’ but the enemy? “Now, I know what you are thinking-” Vafyr started to say, but Embos, finally managing to get control of herself, cut him off before he could do any more damage. “No, I’m sorry but no. You expect me to trust them after what they’ve done, not just to us, but the people of this world? This is stupid!” she said, and carried on walking towards the village. Vafyr stopped her, grasping her arm tightly, and suddenly this wasn’t so funny. Embos’ smiling face twisted into a scowl. “If you don’t trust them,” he said, looking deeply, so very deeply, into her, “Trust me.” They held a deep stare for a moment, before Embos broke away. What did he want? What was his plan? Their plan? He was serious, and Vafyr was rarely serious. “What aren’t you telling me Vaf?” He was holding something back, Embos knew it. There was something in his eyes, something curious, something important. He sighed, seeming resigned. “This is big Em. This is bigger than all of us. We came to a decision the other day, that this is the only way we’ll win this war.” He looked almost scared. Embos hadn’t seen him like this before. “What war?” “The only war that matters. There is … something coming.” Vafyr’s eyes glowed with a fearful anticipation. Whatever he was talking about, whatever was coming, was inevitable. The storm picked up again, blowing wind through the hills that edged the cliff face. It rippled across the grass, sending waves of darkness across the landscape. Trees, dotted here and there, swayed and danced about to the tune of the wind. Far above, clouds sped past. They swirled into each-other and ran towards dry land. Tiny droplets of rain hit skin, like pins-and-needles prickling across Embos’ body. Everything moved, everything was dynamic, everything had so much potential. For the first time, she realised how delicate it all was. While blades of grass flickered in the weather, one could simply halt each one with their thumb and forefinger. What would happen if all of this, this beautiful chaos, just … stopped? Embos realised she had been staring into space for a while. Vafyr had let go of her. She looked to her brother, searching for … something, some sort of solace, some sort of answer. Should she let him speak? Let the traitor influence their minds? If Vaf was lying they could lose their lands, their people, and their way of life to the gods across the water. But if he was telling the truth… “Em!” an energetic voice shouted from below. The two siblings atop the cliff whipped their heads around to look. It was Pelyr, their youngest sibling. Far below, the village people were out about behind him, interested to see what was going on. They all wore brightly coloured clothes, some in dungarees, some in onesies. Pelyr, spotting Embos, called again. “Em, c’mon, the others are back!” They could lose everything. If Vaf was right, everything would just stop. Embos raised her arm, shooting him a thumbs-up. Then, turning, she began again down the cliff. Vafyr stayed behind. “Sister …” he said, and Embos turned again. “Come on.” She said, “We have much to discuss.” Law of the Diaper - Episode 1 - FOST Fost waddled across the marsh. It was a miserable day, clouds had blocked the warm sun, leaving a thick grey gloom beneath. The marsh itself didn’t help much to quell the air of dullness that hung here either. It was slimy, squishy underfoot, and stank. And that wasn’t the only thing that stank. Fost fiddled with the leak guard of his diaper, attempting to make it more comfortable around his leg. It didn't do much. The diaper was just getting too full to ignore, he’d have to find that village as quick as possible, lest a rash set in. What’s worse, is that he was beginning to feel a little full in the bladder, and he didn’t suspect the diaper could hold another heavy wetting. “Damn.” he said to himself, stepping onto a raised patch of ground that was elevated comfortably out of the mud. Mud. The evil stuff came right up his leg, threatening to cling to his onesie. Not that much further, he thought to himself, then I can have a warm bath and a change. To make the rest of the journey easier on himself, he reached for his pacifier. It was attached to his neck with some old twine. It was nice, calming, and placated him enough to continue, at least for now. Now that his mind was clearer, Fost thought back to that old woman, and the conversation they had had a few days prior. What was it she wanted again? Ah, yes, that book on Strange Dymatagy. Apparently it was a rare thing that contained many more words than it did pictures. Fost scrunched his nose at the thought -- how strange. Books with many words were by no means rare, but they were usually owned by Mommies or Daddies, not another Little like himself. Though the woman was ancient, she was definitely a Little. It could only be a thick diaper between her legs that gave her that waddle, and besides, everyone knew that Littles were the only ones who could do proper Dymatagy. What a strange woman she had been. Living alone in the middle of nowhere, reading books not meant for her eyes. Oh well, thought Fost somewhat bitterly, a job’s a job. He was beginning to run low on funds besides much else, not that he had much to begin with. Besides, the village blacksmith here was apparently quite well known, and he needed a new sword as desperately as he needed a new diaper. After this, he’d be out of money. Hopefully the old woman’s job would set him up for after all of this. Before long, he had reached the bottom of a particularly high hill that had prevented him from seeing over the horizon. Salty mud and matted clumps of grass dotted the eleven foot tall mound, made worse by the recent rains. Fost looked at the hill and sighed heavily. Then, taking a large step, he pushed himself up and onto the mound, grunting loudly. Beneath his bare feet, the mud squelched and bubbled, rising through his toes. Another step, onto the steep slope. He placed his foot down and -- sloop. He slipped in the mud, falling backwards onto his polka-dot cloak and down into the mud below, pacifier flying out his mouth. Getting slowly to his feet again, Fost surveyed himself. He had a streak of brown mud down his favourite cloak. What’s worse, his onesie was now speckled with the stuff. Great, he thought, it’s going to be one of those days. He stepped forward again, making sure to be extra careful where he stood. One step up. His toes gripped into the mud. Two steps. He pulled his weight up. Three. Sloop. He slipped back down, falling onto his hands and knees. He tried again. One step. He gripped a tuft of grass, hard. Two steps. He yanked himself up. Three -- swooppllhh. Fost hit the mud with a loud splat. “aaaaAAAAHHH!” he shouted angrily. For the third time, he found himself at the bottom of that damned mound. Why was it so hard to climb a silly little hill? He used to be a soldier! A warrior! And now he was beaten by a little mud. “This is absurd!” he said through labored, angry breaths. It was. He brought his hand to the pacifier around his neck, intending to calm himself again. It was gone. No. No. It couldn’t be gone. Anger turned to panic, as he pressed his hand against his chest, hoping, desperately hoping, that it was just down his onesie. When he couldn’t find it there, he dived into the mud. It had to be here. It had to be here. Fost splashed and flailed in the muck, splattering the thick mess everywhere. He scooped through thick lumps of it, diving deep into the thick ooze to try and retrieve the pacifier. But he couldn’t find it. Panic turned to fear. His heart beat wildly in his chest, and his eyes felt heavy, watery. It was getting hard to see. On the very edge of tears, Fost just stood there, unable to move, unable to think. What would happen if he lost it? That one reminder? No. No. Fost was on the edge of storm, a raging tornado in his chest. He closed his eyes, feeling the tempest gather within him. It was energy. It was power. Without a thought for the consequences, he dived into the eye of the storm, summoning it to his will. The rage and the panic and the fear swirled around him, and when he opened his eyes again, a bright white glow consumed them all. He clapped his hands to the sky, feeling the energy inside him burst out and cascade across the air. Ignoring the resulting cramp in his stomach, Fost opened his hands as if pushing a great force outwards. As he commanded so the mud obeyed, and like a great gust of wind, a circle of force was drawn around Fost, clearing the mud. The pacifier, blue and starry, lay on the ground, helpless against the mud that had consumed it. Fost smiled when he saw it. It was safe now. He bent down, delicately picking it up. The twine had snapped. Of course it had. No longer raging, the storm died down, and without thinking, Fost dropped his area of force. His face strained for a moment, and the cramp in his abdomen grew. Automatically, he pushed, and a thick mass of his own mud entered his already full diaper. He sighed deeply, content. Now that nothing was holding it back, the mud that surrounded him swept back to fill the emptiness, and within a moment, he was standing in it again. It was okay. It was okay. The pacifier was nestled between Fost’s cupped palms, sitting against the warmth of his skin. One hand closed tightly, ever so tightly, around the pacifier, and he used his other to swing his travel-sack off from beneath his cloak. It was small, only containing some food, some coin and a couple of books, but all had escaped the mud. With grace only seen in a parent caring for a child, he placed the pacifier into the bag, safe with the last of his money. Then, swinging his bag on his back again, he looked back to the slope... ...And refused to climb again. He quickly found a small stone and picked it up. With all his might, with all his effort, he imagined throwing the stone as far as he could, as hard as he could, over the hill. Then, closing his eyes, he dropped the stone. The storm of potential blew inside him again. It was much less this time, more of a strong gust of wind really. But it was enough, and with one great push, he leapt over the hill in a single bound. Well, just over half the hill. He only just passed the summit, before hitting mud, and falling on his bottom with a splat. Underneath him, the poopy diaper squished and pushed a little of his mess out of its confines. He felt the damp of fresh pee as he had another accident, a consequence of the magic. He slid down the other side of the hill, and landed at the bottom with a small splat, feet first. Fost was breathing heavily again. Even using basic Dymatagy usually took a lot out of him. He was muddy, tired, and now in dire need of a change. But, looking up, he saw what he had come for. Perched on a small island in the middle of this gods-forsaken flat, was a little village. Smoke puffed gently from a couple of chimneys, and small wattle and daub cottages stood proudly above the mud. So, brushing off as much of it as he could, he waddled towards the small settlement, trying to ignore his very full pants, and the pee dribbling down his leg. LARIA “Do you think they’ll be back?” Laria asked. She was sat on a porcelain potty, pull-up at her feet. The blacksmith wasn’t that busy at the moment, it rarely was these days. Her business partner, Krisp, slouched behind the wooden counter, where normally the bearded man stood proud. He had just been staring aimlessly at the door for about ten minutes now and, if she was honest, Laria was starting to get a little bit worried. “K?” she asked the man, stretching her head round. He didn’t answer. “Krisp!” she said loudly, and the man jumped slightly. “Sorry,” he said in that deep baritone of his. It always calmed her to hear his voice, it sounded like waves crashing along the beach. The man, normally red-faced, had somehow managed to go an even deeper shade of scarlet, “I’m fine, I was just--” “Dude, it’s fine.” Laria said, sighing, “I know what you were thinking.” There was a moment of reflective silence between them. The shop was always empty. Except for them. Laria almost thought Krisp would fade back into his daydream, but before long he spoke up again. “You making progress?” he asked, looking over to where Laria was perched on the potty, just next to the counter. “No, false alarm I think.” she said. “You’ll get the hang of it. Should have seen me trying a few years back, it was a nightmare. Pee went everywhere.” Krisp said, clearly trying to make Laria laugh. It didn’t really work. She looked down longingly. All this was so hard. Although most people on the Dullen Isles wore pull-ups well into their second decade, they were expected to be fully potty-trained within ten or so years of coming of age at 20. Most were trained years before that. At 28, Laria was starting to get worried. All her friends in Trully, her village, were completely out of their pull-ups. Although, Mossa, from down the road, still wore them for the occasional accident. Laria on the other hand, still used the underwear as her primary method of going to the toilet. To make matters worse, she had to admit that she actually enjoyed doing it sometimes. Not only were they convenient during long days at the forge, where one hardly had the time for potty breaks, but it also felt good to let loose where you stood, to feel the warmth growing around the pseudo-diaper. In Luin, the southern kingdom that ruled over Dullen, they used their diapers without a care in the world. People around here weren't usually friendly to southern visitors, but Laria found herself remarkably jealous of them instead. Although there were new, mandatory changing spaces in every shop, just as there was a potty, Laria would always be treated with an air of suspicion if she took up that lifestyle. Even more since Dullen was now a vassal of the more powerful kingdom, and resentment was skyrocketing. Mind you, they’d always be better than those barbarian pants-wetters in the West -- people who soiled their pants with no protection, no discretion. No matter what, Luin and Dullen would always unite against their wrath, even as reluctant allies. Eventually, Laria gave up trying to go pee in the potty, resigned to the fact that she would probably end up messing her pull-up later anyway. She raised herself off the potty, grabbed her pull-up and tugged on her trousers over the top. The potty, as always, stayed where it was beside the counter, in case a visitor needed it. Then, she moved to the back of the shop to where the fun stuff happened. The forge. “You didn’t answer my question.” Laria said to Krisp as she left him at the counter. The smithy itself was quite bare on the inside, with a few cabinets scattered about the front room displaying swords, knives, and other sharp objects. The bigger ones -- halberds and the like -- sat comfortably on the wall. Behind the counter was a door that led to the smithy itself, where most of the work was done. “I didn’t hear your question.” Krisp answered loudly, shouting across the smithy floor. “Liar!” she shouted amusedly back, moving into the smithy proper. “I don’t know what you mean!” Krisp said. Laria smiled, hearing the grin in his voice. Thick wafts of woodchip smoke from the fire, and a perpetual heat, hit Laria as she entered the forge. The back of the shop was much larger, messier and all around a much more interesting place to work. Beside a small wooden stool, a few swords were lined up, ready for polishing and then, hopefully, sale. Laria liked it back here. She liked the energy of the place, heated by the fire, always crackling; she enjoyed creating, crafting, and making something from something else; and she loved the feeling it gave her while doing it, almost like she was a sorcerer, doing magical things that no one else could. In a way, that was true. That’s what made potty breaks even more gruelling. The damned thing tore her away from her work, her beautiful work. It was the same feeling of uselessness she felt while on the counter, just waiting for customers that didn’t exist. So, Laria sat down on the small wooden bench, her pull-up padding her bottom on the hard wood, and got to work. While she rubbed oil along the slender blade of a newly forged longsword, she looked towards the door. Boy, Krisp really doesn’t want to answer that question she thought, smiling to herself. “Krisp, are you going to answer or not?” “Do you really want an answer?” he asked. It was a tough topic to talk about in his defence, but they needed to be prepared, and this was the beginning of that laborious process. “Yes, I want your opinion. Do you really think they’ll be back?” Although Laria was looking at the sword, careful of where her hands were, she was sure to keep her ears towards the door. It would be nice to just focus on the sword, but she knew she couldn’t until the question was answered. She was beginning to feel a little full ‘down there’ again as well, now that her pee-fright had gone. But before Laria could put much thought into it, Krisp spoke up again. “Honestly ... yes.” he said sullenly “I think they’ll--” He switched his voice abruptly, the slightly worn baritone sparking into a lighter greeting. “Welcome! How can I…” Krisps greeting petered out, and all Laria could hear were mumbles from the door. A customer! Finally, something was going up in this godsforsaken town. She went back to her work, only to be called out again a few moments later. “L, grab that Caerson arming sword we made a few months back.” Laria frowned and got reluctantly up. She moved towards a rack where she and Krisp kept the finished weapons, and grabbed the small arming sword. Then, she carefully made her way out front, to see what all of this was about. They never got visitors, especially ones asking for something so expensive. If she was to be distracted from her work, at least it was for a sale. The customer stood on the opposite side of the counter, chatting idly to Krisp as they waited. He was a young man, dwarfed by gargantuan Krisp, but taller than Laria. He leant on the counter, messy blonde hair straggled across his face. It was curly, unruly stuff, splattered with mud. In fact, now that Laria looked, the man was covered head to toe in the stuff. Clearly a Little from the onesie and multicoloured polka-dot cloak, the man looked rather unhappy in his current state. “Here you go sir.” she said, passing the sword to the man. He took it, looking somewhat unsure, and then looked it up and down. Only as she stood there for a moment, watching the customer, did Laria notice the smell. It was that all too familiar stench of a messy diaper, a very messy diaper. Now she looked, the loaded thing bulked between his legs, forcing them slightly apart. Although it was probably rude to stare, Laria couldn’t take her eyes off the thing. What does it feel like? To have so much weight down there? In fact, she only stopped staring when Krisp nudged her, and she snapped sharply out of her daydream. Rather luckily, the customer was still inspecting the sword. It was quite funny watching him. The poor fellow clearly didn’t know what he was looking for, either that or he was distracted. Maybe it was the diaper… “My partner here can give you a run-down if you’d like a good sir?” Krisp said, putting the man out of his misery. “Yes,” the customer answered, sounding relieved, “That would be great.” and he handed the sword to Laria. As she smiled, taking the blade from the customer, she couldn’t help notice that her bladder seemed considerably fuller than it had before. Oh well, can’t stop now, she thought, besides, I’ll probably just freeze back up if I try the potty again. Laria balanced the sword on the tips of her fingers, showing the customer where the blade’s centre of gravity was. She looked towards the man, who proceeded to nod gently. Then, moving with the grace of the wind, she threw the sword in the air, and caught it by the hilt. Krisp chuckled, seeing the customer waddle back slightly in surprise. She swung the sword around a little, getting a feel for it. “Arming swords are usually side-arms.” she said, slicing through the air. This felt good, a blade in her arms. It had been so long since they’d had any customers, she’d almost forgotten how freeing it felt to wield a sword rather than craft one. I’ll have to take this up again! “Did you want one this size?” she said calmly, hiding the energy, the potential, deep inside her chest. “Yes. Something easy to travel with, light and agile. I... I used to have a similar weapon in the army.” the customer said, the last bit subdued somewhat. He glanced to the ground as he said it. Was he ashamed? Embarrassed? Surely he should know how to wield a sword if that were the case? Laria thought it best not to press him. She stopped her routine, and gently handed back the sword. He took it. “This should suit your needs quite well then.” said Laria. She glanced down at the man’s full diaper for a moment, but when she raised her eyes, she caught the customer’s gaze. His pale skin went suddenly red. It was almost as if he hadn’t even realised his diaper was that full until now, and was suddenly self-conscious. How couldn’t you realise when you’d messed yourself? Laria thought back to all the times she’d had an accident, and the bulge that stuck out of her pants. She remembered the earthy smell, the way it forced you to waddle along. Were Littles that oblivious? Krisp interrupted her train of thought, as per. “Is there anything else we can do for you?” he asked. For a moment, Laria didn’t know if it were possible for the man to blush more, but somehow he managed. “You … errr… you don’t know where I could change around here? I have my own supplies...” Krisp giggled slightly, but thankfully it seemed the man had gone as red as he could go. Now it was Laria’s turn to interrupt Krisp. “Yes, of course. This way Sir …” “Fost. Just, Fost.” “Okay Master Fost, this way please.” and she led him to the changing room out the back. FOST “Just back here.” the woman who ran the blacksmiths said. Fost waddled behind her as best he could, trying not to leak over their floor. Although he could handle the odd wet, or even messy, diaper, it had been two days now. He needed this so badly. It was clammy around his legs, the mess was dry and peeling, clinging to his skin like a crustacean. He followed the woman through the back of the shop and into the forge. A hazy fog of fire-smoke floated through the air ahead. “Through there,” the woman said, pointing at a door to Fost’s side. “Just go ahead and get started.” the woman continued, walking toward the forge’s fire, “I’ll just heat some water for you.” She didn’t bring her head up as she spoke, focusing intently on the fire and water instead. Fost nodded, though the woman didn’t see, and waddled into the small side-room. It was pretty standard as far as changing rooms went, though compared to the rest of the shop, it looked relatively new. The wooden walls were cleaner than the rest of the smithy, and a newly clay-tiled floor lay comfortably under a wooden table. It was the length of a man, and a leather cushion lay at the other end. It all looked barely used. Climbing onto the table was a little bit of a struggle. Fost didn’t particularly want to leak, these people were doing him a courtesy after all, and getting excrement everywhere would be extremely disrespectful. That was perhaps the one thing this strange place and his own homeland had in common -- it was always, always, impolite to make a mess when making messies. Of course it happened occasionally, accidentally. But only those barbarians in the south would be so disgusting as to do so deliberately. When Fost managed to get onto the table, he lay down, getting comfortable. Then, with practiced hands, he unbuttoned his onesie, and tore off the tapes of his diaper, which now rested on his upper waist. Presently, the woman entered with the water. Steam drifted off the surface, gently curling and swaying in the light breeze of the closing door. The woman placed the bowl down onto the tiles below, along with some small towels she carried. She drew another bucket out from under the table, and placed it at her feet. Then suddenly, she wrinkled her nose, apparently hit by the stinky onslaught of smells for the first time, especially now that the Diaper was open. Fost felt his face go hot, flushing. “I’m so sorry Miss.” he said out of sheer embarrassment. Normally in Luin, whenever changes happened, it wasn’t seen as a big deal. Everyone was used to it, and it was even enjoyable. Mommies and Daddies made their Little feel at ease, treating it, rightly so, as something that was perfectly natural. Clearly, here in the Dullen Isles, people weren’t so used to hiding their reactions. The woman seemed to blush a little as well. “It’s fine Sir … sorry I forgot your name.” “Fost.” he said, thankful for the change of subject. He relaxed a little at that. “I’m Laria,” the woman said. Laria. She was slightly shorter than Fost, though the height of the table seemed almost perfect for her. Dark skin glistening with the sweat of the forge, Laria wiped her forehead. She moved her already rolled sleeves up her arm a little, and bent down to soak one of the rags in the warm water. Then, she got back up, brushed some of her black, curling hair out of the way, and opened the front of the diaper. Even by Little standards, Fost had to admit it was horrid. In fact, he was surprised he hadn’t had a blowout, especially considering the dirty thing had been leaking for a good hour now. Lara scrunched up her nose again, and this time even Fost was forced to follow suit. “I am so sorry.” he said, his ears, cheeks, and neck burning in shame. “No no!” Laria said, somewhat less calmly than he was hoping to hear, “It happens to everyone.” Not around here though, thought Fost shamefully. She began to wipe him down, taking the wet cloth and squeezing the dirty water into the empty bucket. It felt amazing. After all he had been through over the past few days, to have the icky mess finally coming off him was utterly blissful. He felt light down there, clean, and fresh. He felt like the steam rising from hot water. He felt like the cool currents of the ocean. He felt like a gust of wind in the sky. Fost enjoyed this transcendent experience for a few moments, enjoying the peace, enjoying the silence. He looked to Laria, she was completely consumed in the work, focused and stone-eyed. It was an admirable trait, the likes of which Fost hadn’t seen in a very long time. Although she looked a little uncomfortable, maybe even slightly distracted at times, she continued working diligently. Only for a moment did she break her glance -- catching Fost in the act of looking, then swiftly returning to her task. Fost looked down quickly, not keen to make an awkward situation of it. “So,” Laria said eventually, still intent on her work, “What brings you so far north?” She said it almost absent-mindedly, but there was a quiet chorus of intrigue that rose from behind. Should he tell the truth? Should he say why he was here? He couldn’t see it causing much harm. It was just a book after-all. Besides, he concluded, maybe she can help. “Oh, I’m looking for a book.” said Fost, trying not to make a big deal out of it. “For a client down south.” “Oh Really? What does it look like? Maybe I can point you the right way.” Laria asked. Fost took a moment to answer. Not because he didn’t want to tell her, but rather because he didn’t know what to tell her. He couldn’t recall the woman mentioning what it looked like, other than it’s contents and… “It has a symbol on the front, I think. A sword on a shield, engraved into the cover.” he said, satisfied at the little victory over his memory. Laria, who was in the middle of her final wipes, stopped suddenly. She seemed to squint slightly, as if trying to remember something. Then, shaking her head, she went back to work. “Sorry, I can’t remember seeing anything like that.” she said. Eventually, she finished cleaning Fost down, his sparkly clean bare bottom on the cold table. Laria shuffled through Fost’s bag and found a clean diaper from the stash he left Bermont with, they were well stocked in the Capital. “Okay, bottom up.” Laria said, hoisting Fost’s legs upwards and laying out the white padding underneath. Fost noticed something different about her now. Whilst she was still focused on the task at hand, it was becoming clearer and clearer that she was struggling to maintain composure. The blacksmith was starting to wiggle a little, moving from side to side, almost as if… “You okay?” Fost asked as Laria did the tapes of his diaper up. “Yeah, I’m … I’m fine.” she said unconvincingly. Fost had seen that struggle before. It was common in these parts, where people weren’t so relaxed about just going in their diaper -- Laria was doing a pee-pee dance. “If you need to go, you should just go.” he said, as calmly as possible. “You do wear some sort of protection around here don’t you?” Laria looked up, seeming somewhat startled. Then, she nodded quickly. “Well I - ahhh - I should really be going in the potty.” She was really moving now that she didn’t have to hide it, blushing slightly as she gave into the full pee-pee dance. With a hand pressed between her legs, Laria wiggled up and down, stepping quickly from foot to foot. She was starting to go even redder too, though Fost didn’t know if it was from the strain or embarrassment. He should do something. Help somehow. “Would you like me to go and get the potty for y-” “No!” She almost shouted, before Fost could finish asking. “No, it’s … it’s fine…” Laria’s struggle seemed to hit a limit, and suddenly she stopped. “It’s fine, ahhhhhh.” as she spoke, her legs seemed to go weak, and a relieved smile crept onto her face. Fost couldn’t help but smile amusedly as well. She lent slightly forward, breathing heavily, for about two minutes, completely in her own world. Silence filled the room, so much so that Fost could hear the gentle trickle of a quickly filling pull-up. “You … err … you done?” he asked. Laria, clearly remembering she wasn’t alone, snapped her head up and shot up straight. “Heh, erm, sorry about that.” she said, blushing slightly. Fost had to suppress a giggle. It was strange to hear someone apologise for something that happened all the time in the south. “It’s fine, I’m used to it.” he said. Laria looked down to inspect the damage, and her long hair fell in front of her face. “Would you like a change or…?” Fost trailed off, watching Laria to see what she’d say. “Um…” “Oh, sorry, is that not … do you not do that here? In the south we generally swap and stuff but --” Fost spoke quickly, muttering that last bit. Laria interjected before he had a chance to finish. “No, we … we do that here too, for those of us who are still… y’know.” she said. “Oh, cool … that wasn’t … I’m sorry if it was out of line …” “Not at all!” she said, moving her head quickly up, and stepping forward slightly. “It’s fine, I would have asked the same thing.” “Okay, sorry if I …” “No, you don’t need to say sorry …” “Did you … did you errr … you still want me too-” “Yes!” she said quickly, a smile flickering on her face, “Errr, yes … yes please.” Fost’s face was scorching with embarrassment, and it was clear Laria was as well. Fost jumped down and went to find the supplies that Laria kept around, while she jumped onto the table. Then, soaking some clean rags, Fost got to work. Changing a pull-up was much the same as changing a diaper, though the garment was considerably less bulky. Laria had completely soaked through hers, and Fost was, for the second time today, surprised no-one leaked. “Y’know,” he said, taking the heavy pull-up and placing it beside the waste bucket, “You’d make a good Little with how much you soaked this thing.” “And you’d make a good Islander with that quick potty suggestion earlier!” Laria said, eliciting an embarrassed chuckle from Fost. Now that things were a little more comfortable, Laria seemed to open up a bit, and as Fost wiped her down, they talked a little about weapons. “You won’t find many larger ones around here,” Laria said, “They’re bought up quickly and used for war. At steep discounts too…” “I guessed as much, that’s the way things have always been in Luin. Always at war, always ‘acquiring’ weapons. Most non-army folk don’t get a word in.” “Yeah. Although, if you don’t mind me asking, you’re only looking for a book. Why do you need a sword?” Laria asked as Fost did the tapes of her pull-up. “Better safe than sorry, right? Bandits and all sorts on the road.” “Not around here. That’s one of the few good bits about --” DONG. DONG. DONG. A large bell rang through the village outside. Laria snapped up. “Oh no.” she said, and walked out of the room without bothering to put on her pants. Fost watched her go, slightly confused for a moment, and then decided that it would be best to follow her. What in the name of the gods is happening now? He cursed silently. Outside, people were gathering around a bell that stood in the middle of the village. Like Laria, a few of the younger folk were out here with their pull-ups on full show. Fost started to worry a little. This couldn’t be good whatever it was, and he was in a foreign town with foreign people. All around, people in the crowd glared at him. He pushed through the crowd and eventually found Laria, standing at the front. “Laria,” he asked, “what’s going on?” but he didn’t have to wait for an answer. Opposite the small crowd was a group of soldiers on horseback. Like Fost, they all wore bright cloaks, onesies, and each had a distinct diaper-bulge. There were at least thirty of them at the back, all wearing similar clothes to Fost, though with added armour plates here-and-there. Three of the newcomers stood proud and tall at the front. The one in the centre sucked on a pacifier haughtily, looking so utterly regal that he probably thought he shat gold. On his right was a woman, thin faced, and paler than ice. On his left was a man, hooded -- a cloak of deep twilight-blue. Fost felt something strange, like the gears of possibility shifted within him. But then something else caught his eye. Strapped to the hooded man’s waist was a book. A book with a shield and sword engraved on the front. END OF EPISODE 1

Little Gin-Gin's Trip to the Mall *this is only the first out of many to come* ooOoo Chapter 1: “Is my little Gin-gin excited to meet Santa!?” her mommy asked, gasping as if she were surprised. From their place in line, she could see about fifty other adult-babies with their mommies and daddies. Some eagerly awaited to meet the fat, white-haired man in the red suite while others sulked, mortified at the prospect of having to sit on a grown-man's lap in front of a crowd of strangers. “Are you going to tell Santa everything you want for Christmas?” the woman bounced her in her arms, squeezing the back of her thick oversized diaper. Crinkling loudly, Ginny didn’t give it a second thought. Her self worth had been lost a long time ago. No longer did she care who saw her naked or diapered. The mall, possibly the most public place you could be seen in, was where they were. Deck the Halls played loudly over the speakers and littles gathered around the large sparkly Christmas tree, eagerly watching the train go round and round in circles. The general atmosphere was a happy one. Holiday music filled the air as people did last minute Christmas shopping, dragging their littles in tow or dropping them off at the mall daycare. Ginny couldn’t help but blush as her mommy, placed a big sloppy wet kiss on her cheek. Her eyes drifted down, catching just a hint of the white diaper, peeking out from her frilled, velvety red dress. Soleless, shining black Mary Jane’s were strapped onto her feet and ruffled white socks that went up to almost her knees. The girl was convinced that dress up was her mommy’s favorite part of the day. Never was she to look less than her best, which meant looking the most little she could be. There was a time when she would’ve rebelled. There was a time she would've screamed and cried, refusing to leave the house until her mommy had to drag her out. But that time had passed and now she had resigned herself to the fact that she was never escaping. All she could do was suck it up and pretend. Good girls were rewarded with treats. Naughty girls received spankings. That was something she did not want. Next in line, a feeling of fear suddenly formed in the pit of her stomach. Gripping onto the front of her mommy’s shirt, the ginger-haired girl hid her face in the woman’s warm, soft bosom, tightening her legs around her waist. Laughs were heard as her mommy kissed her head, and they were called up. The fake Santa gave a friendly smile, motioning for them to come forward. “Ohhh, is the baby shy?” a worker cooed, approaching them. He was dressed as an elf with big ears, pointy shoes and a pointy hat. “Why doesn’t mommy come up with us! You wouldn’t want Santa to forget any presents, would you?” Could Santa grant her her freedom? Could Santa give her a phone so she could call the police and escape this place? The answer was no. There was nothing Santa could give her. They didn’t wait for an answer and her heart skipped a beat as she was taken from the warmth of her mommy’s arms. It was sickening how much she had begun to depend on her. A high pitched squeal escaped her lips as she was placed on the man’s lap, pressed against his beer belly. It didn’t surprise her at how she fit perfectly snug on his lap and he held onto her waist, ensuring she didn’t slip off. “Well, hohoho! You can call me Santa, what's your name?” the man asked in a loud jovial voice, his breath smelling of mint. His long beard tickled her skin leaving her wanting to pull on it. “M-mommy cawl me, Gin-gin ow Ginny!” as she spoke, drool dribbled from her mouth, and if the Santa imposter noticed or cared, he didn’t show it. Beside them, her mommy beamed, taking numerous pictures on her phone. Ginny knew that when spoke it either had to be in her baby voice or she was to stay silent. She had worked hard to perfect the high and squeaky voice, but her inability to pronounce words came naturally after over half of her teeth were removed and twisted around in her mouth. Was she in constant immense pain? Yes. Did her mommy care? No. She thought her speech impediment was cute and teethers had become her new best friend. Plus the constant drooling that resulted from the procedure was an extra bonus. “Well, Gin-gin, have you been a good or a naughty girl?” “Goo’!” she squealed, bouncing lightly in his lap, much to the enjoyment of everyone watching. In another life, she could’ve been an actress. That’s how good she was at pretending. “Why don’t you tell Santa what you want for Christmas.” She leaned forward, smelling the faintest whiff of cinnamon and cupped her hand around his ear, coming up with things on the spot. “My elves down at the North Pole are working very very hard to prepare. I can promise that you are going to have a very happy Christmas.” She continued to smile, giggling at all the right moments as she sucked on her fingers. A woman elf stood behind the camera, making funny faces as they did with all littles to get them to smile. Ginny beamed, making sure to show her toothless mouth as the pictures were taken. Beside them stood Jill Anderson, usually a stern woman, but today unusually happy. The woman already knew what her Christmas cards were going to be as she glanced down at her little’s exposed diaper, rapidly turning yellow, and she didn’t even realize. This year was going to be a great Christmas. ooOoo A/N: Hey! I just wanted to do a quick Christmas one shot, since the holidays are coming up!! For those who don’t remember or didn’t read it, Ginny was the new nurse from Emmy’s story who was taken and regressed by Jill Anderson, the mean nurse. I will be doing more of these quick one shots for the other characters I’ve created in this Little Beginnings universe! Hope you enjoy and happy holidays to everyone celebrating Christmas and Hanukkah!

DISCLAIMER: IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ! If you have not read my first story: Little Beginnings: New Life - I HIGHLY suggest you do so! This story will make a lot more sense if you do. It’s where the main character is first introduced and you and learn a lot about the little community I have created. ooOoo Chapter 1: Three Months Before The moment she stepped out of the cab, her skin began to burn. Luna groaned, enduring the full force of the simmering summer heat. This was the exact reason she never wanted to come to the South. There wasn’t anything she hated more than the sun, and by the end of the day, she’d be as red as a lobster. Her father always said it was their Irish blood and she’d roll her eyes in return. No shit sherlock. They were as white as the freakin moon. For sure, she’d stand out among the throng of tanned bodies, which in her case, was not a good thing. She wasn’t sure how long she would stay but Luna had gotten a credible lead on her dad. One she couldn’t ignore. And if the authorities were still scouring Raleigh, it would only take them hours to realize that she was no longer there. “Hello, Miss?” the driver grumbled, knocking her from her thoughts. “You gonna pay me or what? I’m not gonna sit here all day.” He was a grumpy old man who’d only reluctantly driven her all the way out here from North Carolina after promising a generous pay. She’d had to leave earlier than expected and while inconvenient, made her aware of how comfortable she’d become. Never did she stay in one place for more than a few months. It wasn’t safe. “O-of course,” she blushed as she fumbled around in her wallet and pulled out one hundred dollars for the driver. Despite his less-than-stellar personality, he knew when to stay quiet and not ask questions. That was good enough for her. She carried only the bag on her back and money to last her at least another year and a half. After that, she wasn’t sure what she would do. Luna watched the car take off down the dirt path before finally exhaling the breath she’d been holding in the entire ride. There was an eerie silence. A sort of calm before the storm. Luna had only ever known noise, growing up in the heart of Manhatten. Her father explained the importance of hiding in plain sight. Nobody would expect them to be in bustling New York City, a place known for the attention and spotlight. It was perfect… until it wasn’t. Now, looking straight ahead, Luna wondered if she had the right place. The roof of the red farmhouse was dilapidated and the land looked absolutely dead. Anyone who happened upon the house would believe it was abandoned. Though that was the point. No one was supposed to know this place existed. Luna had only found it due to her father. He was the reason she’d not been caught yet. The girl walked ahead with a renewed sense of purpose. The boards below her feet creaked and she rapped her knuckle, three than two than six times, on the faded white door. She clutched a swiss army knife in her other hand, hidden in her pocket. “Always be prepared.” Her father taught her. “Never hesitate.” She was literally in the middle of nowhere-bumfuck-South Carolina. No one would see her if she was kidnapped. No one would hear her if she screamed. Being vulnerable was something she did not like. The door opened a crack and dark brown eyes peered at her. Her hand tightened around the knife and heart frantically raced. “Who sent you?” it was a woman’s voice who asked. “Martin Creevy.” she used her father’s alias. “I assume you’ve heard of him before.” Oh, the woman definitely had by the way her eyes lit up. The door closed in her face and for a moment, Luna thought she’d been turned away. However, there was a click and suddenly it opened again, wider. “We’ve been expecting you,” she said, motioning with her hand. “C’mon in.” Despite the raised hairs on the back of her neck, she stepped over the threshold into the house. There was no turning back, only moving forward. She never could stop moving, searching. Not until he was found. The door slammed shut and Luna jumped, spinning around. She watched the woman re-chain the door and turn the several deadbolts. From the outside, it looked like nothing. Her eyes wandered around, trying to adjust to the darkness. They were in a narrow hallway, with no lights and no other exit. A few pictures adorned the walls and they stood on a dusty old rug. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of mothballs and she leaned on each leg, testing the uneven floor. “You don’t think much of it.” Her eyes flashed back to the woman, who stared intently at her. “It’s just… different.” her bow-shaped lips pursed together. “Where do we go?” “Down.” “Down?” Luna didn’t think she meant literally, but she did. She watched as the woman bent down and peeled back the rug, revealing the wooden floor and… a hatch? “We take our security very seriously. There’s a ladder going down,” she explained, unlocking and lifting up the door. “You go first. I’ll follow.” ooOoo It was a tiny house. That, Luna had been sure of when she saw it from outside but inside, down here, was big. She supposed the basement would be large but not this big.They stood in the kitchen, which had no wall and lead right into the dining room where there was a small wooden table. Unable to help but gap, eyes going wide, the woman laughed, coming from behind her. “Don’t keep your mouth open too long. You’re gonna catch flies.” Her mouth instantly snapped shut and a furious blush spread across her face. Her blue eyes drifted over the woman beside her as she could see her properly for the first time in the light. She had a heart-shaped face and kind but weary brown eyes, that looked to have seen too much pain over the years. And despite her smooth, unwrinkled brown skin, her hair, which Luna could imagine must have been dark black at one point, now greyed. A few loose curls hung in her face and her lips formed a thin smile. “You look like your father.” Her brows furrowed together. She knew her father? “You have the same face but your eyes, they are exactly like your mother’s.” Her lips parted and she stilled. Her only reaction was to blink. “Call me Sue,” the woman offered no other explanation. “I always wondered when we would meet.” Still, she couldn’t bring herself to react. “This is the MacIntosh Safe House. I suspect this is the first one you have come across?” It was. Before, she was squatting in random abandoned buildings, resting while she had the chance. She knew there were safe houses, just didn’t know how to find them. “Sit down, Hon,” the wom- Sue, headed toward the kitchen cabinets, searching through them. “You’re exhausted. I’ll make you a snack.” Her feet moved on her own accord and sat down on the stool at the island table. Sue chopped an apple into slices. MacIntosh. She gulped, trying to find the courage to speak but was, she felt… Luna didn’t know how she felt. The strong confident girl from a few hours ago was gone and didn’t know what had happened to her. “My name is-” “I don’t want to know your real name.” she interrupted, not looking up from the cutting board. “Do you believe my name is actually Sue?” The girl did believe, well, at least up until now. “Charlie.” she made up on the spot. “Call me Charlie.” “Nice to meet you, Charlie.” The name sounded strange as the woman referred to her as it but Luna knew it was better this way. There was nothing to tie her to here. Well, except the driver but she doubted he’d remember. “I’m sure you have many questions and I’ll wait to answer them until you meet the others. It’s not common that we have a new person.” “The others? Oh, and I’m not planning on staying long. I’m just passing through.” She passed the plate across the table with the freshly cut apple slices and smiled. “Of course, you aren't.” The woman didn’t seem to believe her. However, the girl nibbled on the apple, realizing for the first time just how hungry she was. “There are six other people staying here. Three are out right now and the others are in the next room.” Glancing at the doorway in the dining room, she could hear the faintest sound. Was that a tv? There were a few voices. “Your father always bragged about how smart you were and never did I not believe him. You found us, which is not easy to do.” she leaned back against the oak cabinet. “How long ago did he go missing?” “Two years ago.” she ignored the heavy feeling in her heart. Realistically, he’d been preparing her for this since the moment she could walk and talk; but since it had happened, she’d never had time to fully comprehend. “He told me to run and not look back if they ever found us. He said that if he was captured then he’d find his way back to me someday. I believed him for a long time. Now, I’m less optimistic.” She sucked the tart flavor off of her fingers. The apples were gone. She’d eaten them all. “I didn’t believe it when he first told me about the communities, age play, and all of that stuff.” her lips curled up. “If the government knew, why hadn’t they put a stop to it? Innocent people are being kidnapped. My mother was kidnapped. Now my father. It made no sense.” At least, it used to not make sense. But now she realized, anything the government profited off of made perfect sense. Kidnapping defenseless people, stripping away their rights, all for what? To create a better nation? Her parents knew the price they would pay for speaking out about the secret age play communities and the government-sanctioned kidnappings. They just didn’t expect it would go this far- being on the run, living in hiding. And her mother especially didn’t expect she would get pregnant. Now she was destined for a life on the run. That is unless she wanted to get taken and forced back into diapers, made to shit and piss herself, play mindless baby games, and be just some sick couple’s object of amusement. That’s what had happened to her parents, she was sure of it. The only other option was that they were dead. Luna would gladly choose the second option if it came to it. No way would they take her alive. If Sue noticed the faraway look in her eyes, she didn’t comment. Instead, she took the dirty plate, dumping it in the sink. “Why don’t we go say hello to the others.” “Now?” she stammered. Growing up homeschooled, her interaction with people was severely limited. Being alone was what she preferred. It's what she was best at. “Yes, there’s just one thing you have to know." "What?" "Try not to stare.” “Stare?” “Mary gets mad and Tina can't help what was done to her.” Luna didn’t know what that was supposed to mean and tried to shrug off the uncomfortable feeling, but it just wouldn’t go away. ooOoo A/N: Hello everyone! I promised I would post soon and I did! I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter and you may notice two familiar names :). If it doesn’t make sense at first, trust me it will soon! I will be alternating, telling Luna’s (Lulu) story from before she was taken and after in Henderson. I will touch a bit on the hospital but it will mostly be her life after. I should update again soon but I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter 1: With her lips pressed against the glass bottle, she took a large gulp. Emma didn’t know what she was drinking but only that it made her feel good. It made her feel numb. Her throat burned but she continued to drink, wanting to forget everything. Everyone. The room spun around and around and little twinkly lights sparkled in her eyes. The girl was aware that she was dead drunk. She was also aware that her best friend, Hannah was slumped over against Jack, more drunk than she. They’d broken up just yesterday. It was an ugly, sad fight that had not ended on the right note. But she had not expected him to move on so quickly. Not with Hannah. Never with her self declared sister. Emma giggled so hard that tears formed in her eyes and the bottle slipped from her hand, crashing into a million pieces, but nobody seemed to notice. Nobody ever noticed. Shouts sounded from the back porch. A game of beer pong was being played and In the kitchen, people mixed different drinks together, creating a cocktail of god-knows-what. But Emma stood in the living room. She hissed as the glass shards cut into her bare feet. The slight pain soon became overwhelming as the music pounded in her ears, sending a pulsing beat all the way to her soul. Her body swayed back and forth among the crowd of people. Now, she wasn’t usually into frat parties but was known to let loose every once in a while; and if she was desperate enough then would drink. She glared at the two of them as they sucked each other's faces and his hands groped her body. Emma had given Hannah the dress to borrow. It had never been a favorite of hers because it was too sparkly and tight. But it was exactly her friend’s style. Emma didn’t want it back now. She’d rather burn the damn outfit. Her feet moved on their own accord until she found herself outside, standing in the front yard. The grass was littered with red solo cups and over a dozen cars were parked in the driveway. She sat down and laid back, staring up at the starless night sky. “Emma?” Her head turned to the right. It was Julie Watkins. They were friends… kind of. “What’s wrong?” her eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re crying.” Was she? Her hand hovered below her blue eyes and fingertips were wet. She was. Julie sat down beside her. She was a nice girl. Her thick curly brown hair was pulled back into a long braid that snaked down her back. Her face was narrow, skin pale, and nose long and pointy. “I like your outfit.” Emma sloppily smiled. It was just a graphic t-shirt and denim skirt. Julie laughed. “I like your outfit as well.” Julie was nice. Everyone liked Julie, it was hard not to. Emma wore a plain black halter top and skinny jeans. She wasn’t quite sure where her shoes had gone. “Do you want to tell me why you’re out here crying?” the girl tried again. Emma shrugged. “Did you see Hannah and Jack?” “They’re drunk. I’m sure by tomorrow they won’t remember any of this.” Julie was too kind. How come she couldn’t be her best friend? “My parents are also getting divorced!” she blurted before she could stop herself. Her kind-of-friend was very understanding but Hannah had never been. Fuck Hannah Flynn. Fretfully, she tugged at a wavy lock of her auburn hair and Julie rubbed her back in soothing circles. She was crying again. “Do you want a ride back to your dorm? I haven’t drank anything.” Again, she shrugged, very indecisive at the moment. The whole reason she had come to college was to escape her parents who couldn’t manage to go a day without fighting. Emma thought it would be better being all the way across the country. The University of Seattle was an amazing school. “Let’s go,” said Julie as she stood up. “Do you know where your shoes are?” “No.” The girl sighed. “That’s alright. My car is just around the corner.” Clumsily she pushed herself up, leaning against Julie who was five feet and five inches tall. Emma was only five feet and two inches. She felt short in comparison. “I know what it feels like.” whispered Julie. “My parents divorced when I was eight. I’m not gonna lie, it’s not fun. But everything gets better in time. Just remember that.” The words passed right through her. Emma wasn’t sure what she’d remember by tomorrow. ooOoo She’d spent the past hour of the morning puking in the bathroom and after four ibuprofens for her pounding headache, still felt like shit. Her skin was pale, more so than usual, and clammy. The stuffy hot office only made it worse. The nineteen year old girl sat cross legged on the lumpy brown couch. Last night was a blur but she remembered them vividly making out on the couch. Hannah never came back to the dorm. It wasn’t hard to guess where she was. “Emmaline, can you answer me?” She looked up suddenly. Her counselor, Ms. Newman pursed her lips and shook her head. Her brown hair was pulled back into a severe bun and glasses sat on the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry?” “Are you aware that you’re failing several of your classes? You got into this school on an academic scholarship and your grades right now are less than exemplary. You don’t want to be kicked out, do you?” Did she? Emma really couldn’t answer. “I-I’m going through stuff. I’m sorry but right now isn’t really the best time for… anything.” she tried to explain herself, truly she did. “We were understanding in the beginning but there comes a time when you need to pick yourself up.” Ms. Newman sighed. “You can’t continue this way. Many of your professors have expressed the same concerns.” There was no hiding that she was hung over. “Emma, there are people who want to help you. You’re only a freshman and have so much to look forward to. I understand your parents divorce has hit you hard but it helps to talk to others sometimes. You don’t have to struggle with this alone.” Sharing her feelings with strangers was the last thing she wanted to do. She’d rather jump in front of a train. “I’m going to give you the name of a therapist. She’s free and I’ve sent many students to her before. Trust me, they’re completely new people after they're done with her.” Emma could tell that it wasn’t really a choice and took the piece of paper reluctantly. This woman could spout whatever nonsense she wanted but nothing would change. Her life sucked and would always be that way. Afterward, she went back to her dorm, prepared to take another nap but stopped short. “I’m so sorry!” Hannah exclaimed upon seeing her. Mascara ran down her face and a dark tightly coiled curl stuck to her wet cheek. “I-I was drunk and wasn’t thinking straight and it just sorta happened!” Maybe if she had been thinking rationally, she would’ve been more understanding but at the moment she wanted to strangle the curl and watch as her dark skin lost color. “Fuck you, Han.” her voice was cold. “Of course you went after Jack McCroy! He’s mine-” “You broke up… again! For like the hundredth time!” her voice rose an octave. “I’m sorry that I made a mistake but don’t get angry at me. It’s not my fault that you’ve got a shitty life!” Hannah knew that she had hit her where it hurt. “Em… I- I didn’t mean tha-” “Get out.” Her hands formed into a fist at her side, knuckles white. “Get the fuck out!” She didn't need to ask again. ooOoo Her major was political science. Ever since she was a little girl, Emmaline Rodgers had dreams of becoming the first female president of the United States. However, as she grew older those dreams were quickly squashed as she realized what a misogynistic world she lived in. Now, she just hoped to be something. Anything other than a college drop out. Before, Emma thought she didn’t care but now took it back. The girl didn’t work so hard throughout high school and leave home only to end up right back there. She was determined to succeed. To do better than her miserable parents who they themselves never completed college. Her mother worked the farm and her father owned the local corner store. They didn’t make a ton of money but it was enough to survive off of the necessities. Townsford, Connecticut was a town of about one thousand. It was more a rural farming community with one stoplight in the entire county. Everyone knew everyone and it was not a good place to stand out. That’s why she had always hated her vibrant red hair. She got it from her father. Emma had always considered herself kind of a shy girl. Never straying far away from what she knew but there was a desire that burned inside her to escape the deadbeat town which is exactly what she did. The girl was doing more than her parents ever did but it wasn’t enough. That’s why a week later she met Marina Tischner. The woman was kind and almost had a motherly feel to her. She had straight blonde hair and a heart shaped face. She was dressed casually in a blue turtleneck, dark jeans and boots. The room was small but comfortable. The walls were painted a mustard yellow and there was one small window which was the only light in the room. In front of her was a coffee table and a chair on the other side. An icy glass of water and a bowl of mints were situated in front of her. She was surprisingly easy to talk to, something Emma had sworn she would never do. Everything came pouring out of her mouth at rapid speed: Hannah and Jack. Her parents. Hopes and dreams. The only sound she heard was the sound of the pencil tip against the paper as Dr. Tischner took down notes. “Are you happy with your life right now?” “Honestly?” her voice shook. “No. Sometimes I wish I could go far away and be a different person, live a second life. Don’t get me wrong, I want to try. I don’t want to give up but I’m just so tired of everything.” “It’s normal to feel that way. Everyone does at some point.” She supposed the woman was right but Emma just felt so alone. There was no one to save her. “Why don’t you have a sip of the water.” Dr. Tischner nodded toward the glass. “We’ve been talking for a while.” ooOoo Emma’s eyes blinked open but quickly shut, the bright light caught her by surprise. She tried again, this time more slowly and hesitant. Something wasn’t right. A headache thundered at the front of her head and vision blurred around the edges. She felt dead, unable to feel her body, everything was numb. “Mmmhph!” she tried to talk but it came out in a grumbled mess. There was something in her mouth that she couldn’t spit out. The girl was so tired. Her eyes began to flutter as different colors floated in front of her. “No, no Emmy.” a woman stood above her. “Nap time is over, you can go night-night later.” Nap time? Night-night? What the hell was going on? “You’re a silly girl. Just suck on your paci, there’s no need for tears.” Was she crying? The woman tapped the object lodged in her mouth. Without really thinking about it, Emma did as she said. It felt like she had been hit by a truck. Nothing made any sense. “Nurse Janie just has to change your diapee and then you can have some nummies.” Her blue eyes narrowed and brows furrowed together. Something really wasn’t right. Her heart raced against her chest and a high whine escaped her throat. The woman picked her up with ease and automatically her legs wrapped around her waist and head rested on her shoulder. The young girl suddenly stiffened, hearing a crinkle as the woman… patted her butt? “Don’t worry sweetie.” she cooed. “You’re just a little wet but it’s nothing I can’t take care of.” There was a sinking feeling in her stomach as her mind caught up with the lady’s words and realized what the feeling was between her legs. She was wearing a fucking diaper. “Nnn-nuhnuh!” she tried to speak but could only string together a few words. Her body shook and the woman just patted her back. Looking around the room it was empty, save for a bunch of oversized… cages? No. Cribs.There was a rocking chair positioned in each corner of the room and walls were painted a light pink. A rainbow, clouds, and a smiling sun were painted on the wall. It reminded her of her childhood doctor’s office. Except she wasn’t a child. She was nineteen years old. “Keep sucking your paci,” her voice remained calm. “We’re just going to get your little tush changed.” Breath. One, two, three, four… she began to count in her mind. Five, six, seven, eight… don’t think about what she’s doing. Don’t think about how she just strapped you to a fucking changing table that’s way to big for an actual baby. Tears burned in her eyes and a few trickled down her cheeks. She flinched at the touch of the wet wipe against her… her private area. No one but her had ever touched down there before. Her heart pounded in her ears and began to struggle against the straps that restrained her ankles and wrists. She was completely nakad. Oh dear god. Emma screamed, terrified of what was going to happen. The woman swatted her thigh and made a clicking sound with her tongue. “Is little Emmy having bad thoughts?” “Effmfa!” her voice grumbled as she tried to correct the woman. Her name was Emma. Emmy was a baby name. “Oh Emmy, your head is just filled with bad big girl thoughts.” she ignored her protest. “I’m just getting you changed into your pullup and pretty dress. Your diapees are just for night time.” That wasn’t what she was upset about, at least not in that sense. Emma had to communicate with her that there had been some sort of mistake. She wasn’t meant to be here. The young girl kicked her legs as hard as she could, straining against the restraints. The woman clicked her tongue and blue eyes narrowed. “You’ve been such a good girl the past few days. Perhaps you're just hungry, it is time for your nummies after all.” Emma almost laughed in disbelief. Nummies? How old did she think she was? Five? And what did she mean by the past few days? Emma could only remember the beginning of the meeting with Dr. Tischner. The woman bent down, opening a drawer and pulled out a thick pullup. Her cheeks pinkened as Emma wailed from behind the rubber object, unable to escape. “Oh, you’ll get nummies soon. I know how much you like nursie’s milk. Relax and suck on your paci.” But she couldn’t relax because a sudden storm raged at the front of her mind- a lightning strike, a clap of thunder. Her eyes blinked rapidly, persisting through the pain, trying to remember. But her mind was blank. How had she ended up here? ooOoo A/N: Hey everyone! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and read, I really appreciate it! I’ve already started writing the second chapter and it should be uploaded soon!

Disclaimer: There will be some difficult subjects such as violence, brief mention of drugs/alcohol and also some strong language used. A/N: Hello everyone! This will be the last part of Willa's series but I do plan to continue telling the other character's stories! Just to make something clear, the story is starting two years before Willa goes to Henderson and will be told from the perspective of her brother and her. However with the first chapter, it's going through the years showing the events that shaped her childhood and lead her to all the problems she had before she went to Henderson. I hope you enjoy! ooOoo Chapter 1: Ten Years Ago She wet herself. That was the first thing she noticed. She hadn’t wet herself since she was about five years old. She was ten now. Ten year olds did not pee in their beds. The doctors said she was in shock. They said that it was completely normal but watching your parents be murdered was not normal. Nothing about the situation was normal. She remembered her parents were in the living room watching a movie when they broke in. The living room was right next to the front door and they should’ve heard the door open but for some reason they didn’t. Upstairs, she was supposed to be asleep but she’d just gotten a new ipad (they wouldn’t get her a phone) and could finally text her friends and a cute boy had asked for her number so she was waiting up for him. But if he did text, she never saw. It had already begun. She first heard her father shout. Her dad was a calm person. Always mellow, not one to get easily triggered. Standing at six feet, he was a big guy and most people found him intimidating upon the first meeting but their fear always quickly disappeared. Willa remembered jumping out of bed and racing into the hall with the tablet in hand. Standing at the top of the stairs, just out of view, she peeked around the corner. Her dad’s hands were up. There were two men. They shot him first and he fell to the ground. Next was her mother, she didn’t stand a chance. The men rushed from the house out the open door. It had been less than five minutes. Less than five minutes and her parents were dead. Less than five minutes and her entire life had changed. That’s what she told the police officers when they spoke to her at the hospital. She didn’t feel sad. She didn’t really feel anything, the words just poured from her mouth. Willa squeezed her hands into fists and out. In and out. They were dry, clean. The blood had been washed away. She leaned back against the pillow, slightly shivering, The paper hospital gown was not warm at all. She sat stiff straight, her heart pounded against her chest. The sound of blood rushed through her ears. That’s when she felt the wetness between her legs. The police continued to ask her questions and she continued to pee. The officers realized what had happened. No more questions were asked. ooOoo Six Years Ago It was what every fourteen year old girl dreamed of. Their first date. She squealed… yes, squealed when Andre asked her to be his date to the eighth grade dance. Out of all the girls in the school, he asked her. Mister Popular wanted to go out with well… not so Miss Popular. She was what you’d call a wallflower. Sitting at the back of class, her hand raised yet no one saw. Pressed against the wall, someone bumped into her and her books fell to the ground. Yet no one seemed to notice. If she disappeared, no one would know. She was unmemorable. Plain. Ordinary. So why would Andrew Crawford ask her to semi? It didn’t make sense. She had a bad feeling about it but still said yes. She wanted to hope that the feeling was wrong. She had wanted to feel pretty for once. But now she hid behind the school, sucking on the tip of her thumb as mascara streamed down her face mixed in with salty tears. She slid down the wall to the ground, her chest heaved up and down. Never again, she promised herself. Never again, would she say yes to a boy. She was a fool to think Andre Crawford actually liked her. He’d stood her up, arriving with Shelby Hennings instead. Everyone was in on it. The invisible girl getting asked by the pretty boy. Now that was a comical sight. It was all a bet to see if she’d actually say yes. They called her a baby for crying and maybe she was. Why else would she be sucking on her thumb? Boys sucked. Middle school sucked. Her entire life sucked. She’d even straightened her thick curly black hair for tonight and went shopping at the cute new boutique downtown. She hadn't been dress shopping since her mother died and so she picked out what the shop owner suggested. It was a mustard yellow knee length dress. The color went best with her caramel skin and she’d gotten matching pumps. She spent her entire monthly allowance on that night. It was supposed to be magical. It signified a start of a brand new life. A better one than she was living right now. Living with her uncle was fine was fine. He left her mostly alone and she managed alright and her brother Adrian attended Washington State University and was only home on the holidays. Should she call her uncle to pick her up? No. That was too embarrassing. She’d have to walk home. The likelihood of getting kidnapped was high but it was better than facing the truth of her uncle’s words. “He’s using you.” he had said just a few hours ago but she hadn't believe him. Now, she sat on the ground, outside the school, sucking her thumb and painfully alone. Her mother would’ve known what to do. She knew everything. ooOoo Two years ago “Y-you’re kicking me out?” she stammered. It had only been two days since she graduated high school. Two fucking days. Her uncle had already cleaned all her stuff out of his apartment. They sat in trash bags by the front door. It’s not like she was surprised. He had never wanted her or her brother in the first place. He fed them when needed. Spoke to them when needed but other than that left them alone. She doesn’t even think that he noticed when her brother moved out. “You’re eighteen years old. You have a job and are going to college in a few months. I’m sure you can figure something out, Willow-” “My name is Willa!” she snapped. “And if you had paid attention or even bothered to show up to my graduation then you’d know that I didn’t apply to schools and I was fired from the restaurant.” He scoffed, rolling his brown eyes and ran his hand through his grey hair. He had a beer belly and always seemed to wear the same grease stained shirt and pants. The apartment reeked of stale beer and left over pizza. She was desperate to get out of there but not now. Not like this. “Well, tough luck. I’m fucking broke and if you stay, we’ll both have no place to live. Besides, I've dealt with your strangeness for long enough.” She went silent. Tears burned at the back of her eyes. “You didn’t think I knew about your little diaper obsession? Why the fuck would a grown adult hide diapers in their drawer, hmm?” Her lips wobbled. She’d kept them securely hidden away where no one would find them but of course he’d go through her room. He was a cruel man. If he wasn’t drinking then he was doing drugs. There was a reason her parents kept her and her brother away from him growing up. And besides, they weren’t diapers. They were pull ups. She… she still peed in her pants at night. That problem had never been fixed but had managed to keep it a secret the past eight years. Besides, It was simply just a precaution. It’s not like she wore them outside her room. “Call a friend or something or your brother. Andrew, yeah. Andrew will take you in. Just don’t come back here.” Adrian! Her mind hissed. His name was Adrian. Her older brother by five years. Her protector who hadn’t been around lately. Her everything. He’d take her in. He had to. She had no friends because she wouldn’t let herself get close to others. The semi formal still played in her mind every day as a reminder not to trust anyone. Now, she couldn’t even trust her uncle. “Fuck you!” she spat as she dragged the two black bags out the door. She made it halfway down the street and around the corner before she allowed herself to break down. It was as if she had been hit by a moving train and the pain didn’t start to sink in until later. She was freakin homeless. At eighteen years old. No matter how much she wanted to go to her brother, she couldn’t. He and his girlfriend lived together and he had just gotten some new fancy job with the state department that was top secret. He literally couldn’t tell anyone about it and they’d gifted him with a brand new apartment and car in the upscale neighborhood. She didn’t want to go and get in his way because wherever she went, trouble followed. But it wouldn’t hurt to stay at a homeless shelter for a few days, would it? She’d have a place to sleep at least for tonight and then tomorrow she’d figure else something out. ooOoo “I’m sorry but we’re at capacity.” Those words were starting to sound like a broken record. It was her third shelter she’d been turned away from. Perhaps, she could beg her uncle to take her back. At least there, she had some warmth and a roof over her head. She refused to stay on the streets. “Are you ok?” Her head shot up. A tall blonde woman was talking to her, a well dressed one at that. She didn’t belong in this neighborhood that much was obvious. Sketchy people lived here. Poor people lived here. “I don’t mean to intrude but you’ve seemed to um… wet your pants.” A gasp escaped her lips as she looked down at the rapidly growing stain around her crotch. Her heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach. She raised her leg, about to stomp her foot, but stopped herself at the last moment. Her chest heaved up and down. She bit down on her bottom lip, wide eyes filled with tears. This had never happened before in the day. It had never happened in public before. How could she not have felt it? Willa was prepared for the ridicule. The laughter. But none came. Instead, the woman handed her her sweater. “Tie this around your waist and cover up the stain. Do you have anywhere to stay?” she eyed her trash bags in pity. Timidly, the young girl shook her head side to side. “My name is Vera James. I can help you if you wish. I’ve worked with many, kids, such as yourself with similar problems-” “It was a one time thing and I don’t have a problem,” her voice hardened. The lady pursed her lips, continuing after the interruption. “Everyone has accidents.” she said matter of factly, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before and It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I live in Henderson, you may not have heard of the town, it’s a little outside of the city. I foster at risk youth and troubled teens-” “I’m fine,” her voice rose before she could let the woman continue. Her mother had always warned her about stranger danger. Just because she was nice and seemed to care, did not mean she was not dangerous. Besides, she’d never heard of this Henderson place and if it was so great, what was she doing here? “I’m, um, I’m going to stay with my brother.” she made up an excuse. The woman didn’t believe her. “I was actually on my way there right now.” she said. “Now, if you’d excuse me.” ooOoo A/N: I hope you've all enjoyed the first chapter! There wasn't a ton of ageplay in the first chapter but trust me, it's just getting started! I've actually already started writing the second chapter and so that should be posted shortly!

Disclaimer: The story contains mentions of abuse if you are uncomfortable with that I suggest you don't read. ooOoo Chapter 1: The orphanage was overcrowded and chaotic. It was a small building, more a house, in a decent neighborhood. Marina and Christian hadn’t known what to expect when they pulled into the driveway. In front of the white two-story house was a sign that said, Brighter Horizons Orphanage. There was a large wrap-around porch and the garden in the front yard was only half alive and grass overgrown. It was known that the orphanages were terribly underfunded. The government tended to give all their money to the large hospitals leaving nothing for anyone else. It was a part of Christian Tischner’s goal to make sure everyone could afford the same opportunities. No littles should have to suffer. No workers should be stressed or overworked. But that was often the case with the underpaid staff. When the couple got the phone call a week ago, they were taken aback. It was from Marsha Mercer, a woman they hadn’t heard from in many years. She was their designated social worker. When you adopt your first little, it’s the law that you have surprise home checks every three months for up to a year to ensure that the little is being well taken care of. However, because it had been so long since they had a little, Marsha decided to check in, just to make sure everything was going ok. Their first thought was of Willa, worried something had happened, and she was going to be taken away. That’s what those phone calls usually led to. Their fears, however, were quickly squashed as Marsha explained the situation. A little by the name of Olive May was in need of fostering. She had been the third girl at Little Beginnings Hospital in the Newborn Ward with Lulu and Willa. The story was devastating. A friend of Astrid Reichner wanted to adopt her early. The girl was a master at manipulation and had everyone convinced that she had fully regressed. She was released into the woman’s custody but her new mommy quickly learned that she was not the perfect angel she portrayed. For three years she was abused physically and mentally. Her mommy could not afford to send her back to the hospital so she tried to force her into little space. It did not work and she’s now stuck between a 6-month-old to three years old, headspace, often fluctuating between them. Olive May was aware enough to know that she shouldn’t be in diapers and a onesie and that he was actually an adult. That proved a huge problem because little’s like those, if escaped, could reveal all of their secrets. Her social worker never noticed the signs of abuse. She was overworked, taking on hundreds of cases that most of the time she’d forget to check in. When she was rescued, she spent a month at SunnySide Hospital but the doctors determined that too much damage had been done and it would be virtually impossible to regress her to a set age. There was nothing more they could do for her. She was sent to Bright Horizons Orphanage but nobody wanted to adopt or foster her. She tended to lean towards violence when upset and nobody wanted a little that wasn’t fully regressed. The orphanage was weeks away from sending her to, Henderson’s Psychiatric Hospital for Littles where she’d most likely spend the rest of her life. When Marsha heard of the situation she immediately intervened. She knew that wasn’t what she needed and if they could just find a loving family to take her in, perhaps she could heal. Marsha wanted the Tischners to be that family. They were well off, loved by everyone, and Christian was a miracle worker when it came to littles. But the couple was wary at first. They wanted to help her but it sounded as if she was too late to be saved. They also had to think about Willa. She was their full-time responsibility and while they were pretty certain that she would never fall out of her headspace, they didn’t want to take the chance. Marsha remained optimistic though and wholeheartedly believed she could still be helped. The Tischners didn’t say no right away and slept on the decision for a few days before ultimately deciding they’d take her on. No little should have to suffer. They made a promise to each other that they wouldn’t let the girl’s care get in the way of their little Willa. They’d make sure Willa knew that she was still loved. They just would have a new family member now. She’d have a big sister. They sat in an office right off the front door. The sound of crying sounded from one end of the house and laughter from another. Just from their brief moment in the main room when they first entered, they were shocked. Littles ranging from all ages were crowded in several rooms. There were about forty littles in total that they had seen. The diapers were cheap and the clothes were obviously from second-hand stores. The toys they played with were falling apart. There was the strongest smell of dirty diapers and Marina couldn’t help but cover her nose. The house had definitely seen better days. It looked moments away from falling apart. They had known that orphanages were bad but they hadn’t expected this. Nobody wanted to end up in one. Littles who were abused, abandoned, or caregivers that had died were brought to places like this. The hospitals were only for the injured and for those who needed to be regressed which left everyone else in the dust. Most people didn’t like adopting from the orphanages because there was always something wrong with the littles. Most preferred the hospitals because they were all shiny, new, and well behaved. The stigma and bias against orphanage littles and hospital littles was a sad reality. Five minutes later a stern-looking woman entered the office. She had hard brown eyes, blonde hair cut into a bob cut, and pale skin. She was dressed for a day at the office instead of in a house full of littles. She wore a white blouse (which had somehow managed to stay clean) and blue jeans. “Thank you for your patience,” she said with the slightest English accent. The woman reached over to shake their hands as she sat down behind the desk. “My name is Anne Marie Whitmore. I’m the owner of Brighter Horizons. It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” “The pleasure is ours,” Christian replied. Mrs. Whitmore curtly nodded her head, sliding over a vanilla folder with papers inside. She was not one for small talk. They jumped right into business. “I’m not going to lie. I was surprised to hear that you were interested in fostering. I’m aware of your accomplishments and how charitable you’ve been in the past but fostering a little-- especially this little is a huge responsibility.” It sounded as if she were doubting their capabilities. Of course, they knew that they had their skeptics. Some were determined to paint them in a negative light for every single thing they did, such as donating to charities and exposing Little Beginnings Hospital. Some believed that they had done it just to increase their fame, claiming they had, Caregiver Savior Complex: caregiver’s feeling the need to help sick and injured littles when it benefited them in some way. Of course, that wasn’t true but it still hurt that people thought that. “I’m aware that Ms. Mercer has alerted you to Olive May’s issues but inside the folder is a more formal and detailed report.” They opened it up and to say it wasn’t slightly overwhelming would be a lie. Christian was trained in caring for abused littles and had worked with them before but this was obviously going to be a whole new experience. The first page read: Babygirl, Olive May Sex: F DOB: 9/27/2003 Previous Name: Jessica Flannery Demographics Contact Information: Address: 42 Hickory Street, Brighter Horizons Orphanage, Henderson, WA, Email: Brighterhorizons@littlespace.net Phone: 92-334-1995 Little Space: Six months old to three years old Biological Age: 21 years old Regression Status: Incomplete Height: 5ft 1in Weight: 95lbs Nationality: Irish Dual Citizenship: United States Race: White Ethnic Group: Irish Hair Color: Black Eye Color: Blue Health Issues Chronic Constipation, PTSD, Anxiety, Anger issues, Malnourishment, Dehydration, Vitamin Deficiencies, Anemia, Muscle Atrophy, Selective Muteness, Claustrophobia: fear of small spaces, Nyctophobia: fear of the dark “As you can see her file is over twenty pages long,” said Mrs. Whitmore. “That’s the reason she’s listed as a high priority little. We will not let just anyone foster her.” The pages went on and on, going into more detail about her treatments, medicines, behaviors, etc. It would take a whole week to just read through every single detail. “What did the woman do to her?” Marina gulped with tears in her eyes. She’d heard these stories time and time again when working with patients but this hit different. It was a caregiver who hurt their little. Never in a million years would she ever lay a hand on Willa. The Tischners didn’t believe in corporal punishment. Not that they ever needed to punish her but if they did, they’d simply take away her plushie. That made her upset enough. “The details of her rescue and past living conditions are all in the folder.” she sighed, sadness hinted in her voice. “The trauma she’s been through has left her unable to communicate effectively. She’s constantly angry and fights against the regression. If she feels herself start to slip then she’ll begin hitting and scratching herself. We clipped her nails all the way down and placed her hands in mitts. The only effective punishments are time outs when she’s in an old enough headspace and when she is a younger, we take away her plushie--” “She has a favorite plushie?” he interrupted, surprised. If a little was having difficult regressing, usually the first things doctors did was give them a plushie. It always seemed to do the trick, no one knew why though. “Yes,” she nodded her head. “It’s a stuffed elephant and it’s attached to her hip at all times. She doesn’t let anyone else touch the thing.” That was a good sign. Usually if a little became attached to a plushie, they’d quickly fall into their little space but something was obviously blocking that from happening. She continued to tell them about her, the situation sounding more dire as she went on. Marina was starting to wonder if they were the right people for this job. But she knew they had to do it. “It’s not too late to back out, if you’re having second thoughts,” Mrs. Whitmore stared right at her as if sensing her thoughts. They shared a glance, grasping each other’s hand and said, “we’d like to continue with the fostering process. You’re not going to scare us off.” Her lips pursed and her brown eyes assessed them for a moment before saying, “very well. I believe it’s time to meet Miss Olive May.” ooOoo Author Notes: Hey everyone! This is part 2 of Willa’s story. As you can see a new character was introduced, some may remember a brief mention of her from part 1. You’ll see more of Willa in the other chapters and it will be heavily focused on the both of them. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: After going through a traumatic childhood, Willa needs help. She's unknowingly admitted to Little Beginnings where she's going to have the chance to have the childhood she should've had (whether she wants to or not). ooOoo Chapter 1: “W-Willa…Willa Carolan,” the young girl stuttered. Her chocolate brown eyes focused on the black and white tiled floor as the receptionist typed upon the keyboard. She was the only one in the waiting room which she supposed made her feel a little better. She did not do well with interaction. The thought of even coming to therapy terrified her as she had never been before. She clenched her clammy hands into fists and counted backwards in her mind, trying to calm the beating of her heart. Suck it up. She thought. Plenty of people go to therapy. There was nothing to be worried about. That’s what she tried to tell herself. But she wasn’t so sure. She could barely talk to another person without stuttering or wanting to puke. How could she manage an hour long session? The whole point of therapy was to talk and she couldn’t even do that. “You can just take a seat in the chair right over there.” the woman smiled at Willa, finally having stopped typing. “Dr. Tischner will be out shortly.” Slightly nodding her head in thanks, she quickly scattered to the furthest corner in the small room away from the woman. With her knees pressed against her chest, she rested her head on them, taking in deep and rapid shallow breaths, ignoring the stack of magazines on the tiny table beside her. Willa didn’t know why she even agreed to come to this. She had managed to avoid it for the past ten years, silently suffering, never going out unless absolutely necessary. She was only twenty years old, had no friends, no job, and anxiety that riddled her mind and body. Adrian, her older brother was the one who supported her but she had a feeling he wanted her out of his home. His crazy ex- girlfriend of three years had just left and was still traumatized by... by everything. Willa thought his message was pretty clear when he scheduled the appointment himself and drove her, escorting her as far as the front door then leaving. She was pissed, rightfully so, that he would just abandon her like that. They were best friends. They had been for all of their lives. Even though her brother was five years older, they understood each other like no one else. She could count on him for everything. She didn’t have to hide away. They were exactly the same in everything from their caramel skin, eyes, round face and thick curly black hair. People would confuse them for twins because of how much they looked alike. So, yes, it hurt when he just dumped her at the building. He didn’t even say when he would be back and the unknown was what scared her the most. “Willa Carolan?” a new voice echoed throughout the room. Shooting her head up, a blonde haired woman dressed in a pink cashmere sweater and light jeans stood at the door with a clipboard. She looked to be about forty years old. Some lines were visible on her milky white skin but from afar she didn’t look to be over twenty five. On trembling legs, Willa walked across the room, ducking her head at the woman’s kind smile and followed her through the brown door into a small room. Sitting down on the lumpy grey couch, she examined everything around her. The walls were painted a mustard yellow and there was one small window which was the only light in the room. In front of her was a coffee table and a chair on the other side. An icy glass of water and a bowl of mints was situated in front of her. Her hand twitched, wanting to take a sip to cool her parched throat but she held off. Willa didn’t want to get too comfortable. She didn’t want to let her guard down. “It’s small, I know.” Willa jumped, turning to stare at the woman. The door shut and suddenly the two of them were alone. She sat down across from Willa with the clipboard and pen in her hand. Her blue eyes gleamed in curiosity. “I’m Dr. Tischner,” she said, her voice was low. Without realizing it, Willa slowly found herself relaxing at the woman’s soft tone. it was almost maternal, something she hadn't heard in many years. “You must be Willa. I believe it was your brother that set up the appointment, yeah?” Willa nodded her head. She kept her mouth shut, still inclined not to speak. Her foot tapped against the black carpet. Her eyes darted every which way, determined not to look at the doctor. “It’s alright if you don’t want to talk. We can just answer, yes or no questions.” she waved her hand. “Everyone reacts differently to therapy so there is no one way to feel or act. It’s normal to be nervous or afraid. I like to go at the patient's pace. If you’re uncomfortable with any of my questions we can just move on. Does that seem fair?” Her eyebrows furrowed together, taking in what she said. Willa was not one to bare her soul to people, especially strangers. It was a relief to hear her say that because she didn’t know if she would ever be ready to share what happened. Willa nodded her head once again. It did seem fair. Looking down at her clipboard, she began to speak. “I just want to clarify a few things, first. Your report says that you are twenty years old; full name is Willa Jean Carolan; and that you were born November 12, 2000? ” The young girl gave a nod. “Great! Now that that’s out of the way I thought we could get to know each other a little.” she exclaimed. “My name is Marina Tischner and I’ve been a therapist for about ten years now. I love working with children and young adults such as yourself. I take a really laid back approach when counseling. I don’t push my patients into anything they are uncomfortable sharing and will not reveal to anyone what is said in this room unless it endangers the lives of others or yourself. Do you understand?” Willa tugged at a curl that had fallen loose from her ponytail. She bit her lip, humming a yes and hugged the pillow in her arms that sat beside her. Dr. Tischner continued to question her about different stuff in her life such as her favorite color, food, animal, etc, and by the end Will found herself slightly smiling, not as tense as she had been when she first arrived. There was something about the woman that gave off a maternal presence. Something she hadn’t felt since the death of her parents. Dr. Tischner cared about her. It wasn’t fake. She gulped, holding back the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes. Willa bit her bottom lip, drawing blood but sucked it away. “I’d like to talk about you parents.” she casually brought up, stopping Willa in her tracks. Her heart dropped to the bottom of her stomach. It was the one thing she refused to ever talk about. A single tear fell from her eye. “You witnessed your parents murder.” Dr. Tischner's voice was just above a whisper. “That’s when the anxiety and PTSD started, isn’t it?” Her chest rose up and down. She didn’t have the words to scream at her to stop the questions. Her shoulders shook as she continued to speak. Willa couldn’t breathe, she was gonna pass out. “You were only ten years old. I couldn’t imagine what that could do to a child.” she sadly shook her head. “You didn’t see your brother until you were at the hospital. That’s why he isn’t as affected as you are. Does that ring true?” The sound of a gunshot echoed in her mind. Her mother’s dead body fell to the ground. A pool of blood surrounded her. Willa’s father was already dead, having been murdered first. The intruders thought no one was home. That’s what they claimed in court. They never meant to kill anyone, they were just gonna rob her house. It didn’t make it any better because her mother and father were dead. She hid upstairs at the top of the staircase, terrified to make a move, afraid they’d hear her. It was two o’clock in the morning. Her brother was sleeping over at a friend's house. That was the day her life changed forever. “Take a sip of water.” Dr. Tischner calmly nodded toward the glass on the table. “We’ll stop the questioning.” She didn’t have to tell her twice. Holding the glass with shaking hands, she tilted it to her lips, gulping it down, barely noticing the change in taste. Willa finished it within a few seconds and collapsed back against the couch, suddenly overcome with fatigue. “We’ll stop for now. Why don’t you take a little nap… we’ve still got ten minutes left.” Dr. Tischner encouraged. Willa didn’t have to be told twice. A haze had clouded over her mind and suddenly she found it harder to stay awake. The only thing she could hear was the doctor’s voice calmly lulling her to sleep. ooOoo This couldn’t be real. Willa naively thought. The last thing she remembered was being at Dr. Tischner’s, her brother leaving her, recounting parents' death, and having a panic attack. She didn’t remember anything after that. A part of her desperately wished for this to be a dream but she knew it wasn’t. It was too real. Warm tears blinded her already blurred vision as her chest rose up and down, desperate to escape the entrapment she had been placed in. Willa wanted to be home in her own bedroom, laying in her queen sized bed. She wanted to be with her brother. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him. She wanted to be away from here. Away from this woman who was holding her as if she weighed nothing. . She couldn’t move her arms or legs. Her entire body was constricted in a tight swaddle by the light pink blanket. It had taken a moment for her to realize that as she slowly awoke, hearing the soft sound of the woman’s voice. That was ten minutes ago. Willa should've been freaking out more than she was. She should’ve been crying and screaming and having a panic attack. But the only sign of her panic were the fat tears that rolled down her cheeks, as she stared up at the woman who cradled her against her bare skin. The only thing she could focus on was her green eyes, unable to see anything else. If she tried to look more than six feet away it all became a big blur. “You’re alright, baby.” the woman cooed as she wiped away the tears. She spoke down to her as if she were an actual infant, unable to understand basic speech.That pissed Willa off more than anything. But she had no way to show it except for the glare in her eyes. “Mommy’s got you,” she spoke in a high pitched voice. “You’re safe with mommy now. You don’t have to worry about those big bad thoughts in your head. Just suck your paci.” she tapped the large object that was stuffed in her mouth. Willa was forced to suck on it, unable to spit it out due to the strap that went around her head. Pitiful whimpers rose from the back of her throat and the woman condescendingly cooed, rocking them both in the rocking chair. They were in the infant ward. The room was light pink and smelled of baby powder. Ten large adult sized newborn incubators filled the room and changing tables ran along the walls. There was also a rocking chair in each corner of the room. Everything was adult sized. Tapping her bottom, Willa’s eyes widened in horror as she felt a cushiony bulk on her bottom half. The woman’s smile widened, showing off her shiny white teeth. “Does baby Willa have to use her diapee?” She began to wiggle as hard as she could, trying to escape but she was too weak. Now she was sobbeduncontrollably as the weight of the woman’s words sank in. She was swaddled like a newborn, sucking on a pacifier, and in a diaper that she was expected to use. Her vision had been blurred. Her muscles were weak. She was as helpless as an infant. Willa was an infant. The woman stood up, pacing as she rocked her back and forth, supporting her head like you’d do a real baby. She wore no shirt and Willa’s cheek was pressed right up against her large left breast. Willa was only faintly aware of the woman’s hand, pressing on her stomach. The more she wiggled the looser her bladder became until suddenly a warm stream flooded her diaper. The thick padding expanded and she screamed and screamed through the pacifier, glaring at the woman in hate for forcing her to piss herself. It was warm and wet, sloshing around her bottom before being absorbed. She desperately wanted it off. She was twenty years old. She hadn’t used a diaper since she was two years old. “I’m so proud of you!” the crazy woman praised her. “You used your diapee like a good little baby-- you’re my good little girl!” She gave her a wet kiss on the forhead and placed her on the changing table, ignoring the screams. A moment later, another woman walked into the room through the sliding doors. Both had curly brown hair that fell right above their shoulders and fair skin. She crooned, brushing her hair out of the girl's out of her face. “I think she’s one of the cutest infants we’ve had yet.” the woman tickled under her chin, causing Willa to try to wriggle away. “She’s also a very smelly baby! I think it’s time for a diapee change!” The second woman held her down as her mommy undid the swaddle revealing he naked body and sagging thick diaper. She continued to sniffle, out of energy to fight. A strap was tightened over her waist and chest while the second woman held down her shoulders. Moving quickly, the straps were undone and the diaper removed. Grabbing baby wipes, she wipes down everywhere, running her finger over her now bare pubic bone. Willa’s eyes realized at the realization only for the woman to giggle. “Babies like you don’t need grown up hair. Infants are bare.” she covered her in baby powder, not wanting to cause a rash and retapped an even thicker diaper making her unable to close her thighs. Undoing the straps, Willa wanted to plead not to be swaddled again but it’s what her mommy did. She wrapped it around her body even tighter than before and supporting her neck, held her against her body. “I’ll go get a bottle.” said the other woman. “Little babies like her shouldn’t be up for so long. Little Willa needs to go nighty- night.”

Hi my name is tasha and i am 26 years old and i am trying to find people to role play with to get through this crazy time in our lives. I'm looking for people for long term rps. some of the apps i like to use besides on here are hangouts, discord, messanger, telegram or whats app. I can play as the caregiver or little usually i prefer to be the little but right now i dont mind being the caregiver since im not working . Can be sexual or non sexual. I have some scenarios in my head they are below we can use them or come up with our on scenario. I would also like it if you were able to play multiple people at once if not thats fine. 1)This can go a few ways, A concerned sibling, best friend, or coworker, etc. Any who you being to notice how stressed out I am, and decided that I needed to relax. I refuse your help at first, telling you i am okay but that wont cut it. You learn about age play and decided thats what i need based on my stress levels and childhood. you invite me and thats where you gently but with a firm hand try to get me to attempt this lifestyle. I let you do as please and you tell me to give it a week and its really so bad we could let it go and move on like nothing happened. Slowly but surely i start to enjoy it 2)Males have to play as females. the rp must include ageplay, breastfeeding, and you playing as a female celebrity. Will not trade pics during the rp but will give you a live pic of your choice to prove. Im always the sub and that wont change. Im willing to let it be sexual but you have to play as female celebrity let be babied. Types of Rp I will do : Doctor/Patient Sugar mommy/ Sugar Baby Teacher/Student Celebrity/Fan Boss/Assistant Sister/ Sister 3)So my idea for this role play was our characters are ether friends… or close Co workers…. Yourself character has always wanted a baby/little girl of her own and has fallen in love or taken a fancy toy character… So she takes my character forces her.. and grooms her into being her baby/little girl.. and when she doesn’t do as mommy wants she punishes her… eg.. calling her mommy, taking a dummy, obeying orders,breastfeeding and etc. . Yes this would include age play. 4)Hi I’m looking for a kinky dominant woman or male with a strong and Powerful imagination to do a forced regression role play were You would regress me all the way to complete adult babyhood against m'y Will . I thought we could start with normal characters such as teacher student with me as a student . Then at some point You kind of drug And kidnap me And force regress me to complete adult babyhood against m'y Will . All m'y adult abilities Being taken away Step by Step as i cant do anything about it . Would You like something that kind? 5)looking to do a babysitting rp where the babysitter is female celebrity and forces me to be a baby girl sand forces me to breastfeed from here while she watches me over the summer. The celebrity has to be under 35 i will make some exceptions depending on the celebrity The RP must include : FORCED BREASTFEEDING FORCED AGE PLAY You playing a female celebrity. . WILL BE NON SEXUAL TO START WITH. 6)so i have this idea where we could be best friends and im going to spend the whole summer at your house since both are parents are going to be away. So the first night you put a muscle relaxant in my drink to make me wet the bed. You do it two more times and you decide enough is enough so you force me into diapers and to be you babygirl and breastfeed. 7) It’s a quiet afternoon and someone decides to take a nap, skipping out on their chores. The roommate, who has had it with this, dresses them up in a diaper and takes pictures to blackmail them. It starts with extra chores, and goes deeper as the roommate discovers the love of being dominant over another. 8)Colleagues for work, two girls compete for an excellent job at work. One of them has been working for a long time in the company, and the other young girl has just come, but is very capable. and the experienced employee decides to eliminate the competitor in a very original way. Make her baby.  9)Roommates – We could be in the dorms or just roommates sharing an apartment or your parents renting a room to me. You could either do it so I wet myself naturally or use hypnosis and eventually getting to the point of wetting and messing in the day. You could also use hypnosis to reverse puberty so I had a small pee pee and balls with no hair and you would be way bigger and in eighth grade and you have a younger brother who is close to getting out of diapers, but still has all the gear. Then you could make it very embarrassing for me by diapering me without privacy just like a baby no matter whether a lot of people are around or whether we are in public. The first day accident you could take me some place that is busy and make me pee my pants in public and then diaper me while everyone watches. You could start making me wear them around the house and let my baby stuff sit out so anyone can see. 10)Baby Sitter – I get in trouble at school and my parents hire you to baby sit. You could play someone from school, cousin, next door neighbor and my parents were afraid I wouldn’t keep my punishment while they were gone and it would cute if I didn’t realize my parents hired you. You could show up after they left with a diaper bag and laughing your ass of at the idea of diapering me and making it super humiliating 11)Renter - I live in the apartments that your dad owns and I would be starting college in a few months, but I moved early to get out of my parent’s house. You could play his younger daughter and I don’t normally have a wetting problem, but have been going to parties lately and wet the bed a few times and the furniture is rented too, so I try drying out the mattress and your dad sends you to do a check and you notice and talk down to me and treat me like a little-pee-pee girl instead of a mature college kid and you tell me you will keep it a secret from everyone if I agree to abide by your rules which starts with plastic sheets and diapers at night and eventually outfitting my room with baby stuff left over from previous renters and you buy locking plastic pants and start making me wear 24/7 and making me wet and mess and once I am under your thumb you decide to let others know about my secret and maybe do a pool party with your friends from school and having them bring some babies along and you make me play with them while letting your friends make fun of me as I use my diapers throughout the day and you do a raffle to see who gets to change me right there just like the other babies. 12)Teacher at school - You have had issue with me being rude to you and other students. You keep diapers on hand for one of the special needs kids that are thick and babyish prints that have prints. I need to pee and ask for a bathroom break with you telling me to come up for a note so I don’t get in trouble. I pee myself on way up drenching my pants which you would make a big deal out of about it right in front of everyone. Then you spank and diaper me right in front of everybody then give me your breast to suck. 13)Forced Baby girl / Little Girl -So my idea for this role play was our characters are ether friends… or close Co workers…. Yourself character has always wanted a baby/little girl of her own and has fallen in love or taken a fancy toy character… So she takes my character forces her.. and grooms her into being her baby/little girl.. and when she doesn’t do as mommy wants she punishes her… eg.. calling her mommy, taking a dummy, obeying orders,breastfeeding and etc. . Yes this would include age play. 14)Dominate Female : Kinky dominant woman with a strong and powerful imagination to do a forced regression role play were You would regress me all the way to complete adult babyhood against m'y Will . I thought we could start with normal characters such as teacher student with me as a student . Then at some point you kind of drug, kidnap me and force regress me to complete adult babyhood against my will . All my adult abilities being taken away step by step as i can’t do anything about it 15)Doctor/Patient -I come in as a new patient for a physical exam and you are secretly a mommy dom looking for a little girl the minute you see me you know that you want me as your little girl no matter what.So you decide to get me to sign something without me knowing that im signing a piece of paper that gives you permission to do whatever you want to me. Boss/ Assistant- You got this new part in this show where you have to play as a new mother to a newborn baby. And you have your assistant go over lines with you and decide to practice being a new mom with your assistant as the baby. Or your looking for a new assistant and your character or mine shows up but you have to be 18 and your not so you lie about your age. The boss finds out and says she wont report you if you do something for her in return. Or she will help you with your finances and bills. If interested in roleplaying with me please either comment below, pm or kik me at lovetorp365 or message me on discord babygirllovetorp#7772 just tell me your from daily diapers.

Looking for Gold Coast and Brisbane abdl’s for meet up

Chapter 1: The Accident "No, no, no, no," Emily whispered to herself as she scrambled out of bed. She wanted to cry. Her pajamas were completely soaked. Running her hand back over her bed she realized that it to was soaked. She had wet the bed. Bedwetting wasn't new to Emily as she had started having nighttime accidents a few months before. The only issue was that because of her accidents, Emily had been wearing Huggies Pull-ups to bed every night. Well, except last night, of course. Last night, she had decided that she was a big girl and didn't need to wear one of her pull on diapers and so after her mom wished her goodnight, she switched her Pull-up for a pair of panties. Emily knew that her mom would be upstairs soon to check on her and make sure she was up and getting ready for school. She needed to hide the evidence from her accident, fast. She stripped off her pajamas and slid them underneath her bed. She didn't have time to shower and so she did her best to towel off before getting dressed for the day. when it came to her bed, Emily only had one option and that was to remake her bed like she did every morning and hope her mom wouldn't realize she had an accident. She would deal with it when she got home from school. "Emily," July, Emily's mom, shouted up the stairs. "Are you ready yet?" "Coming mom," Emily replied. She made sure that everything was where it should be before heading downstairs. "What took you so long, sweetheart? You're going to be late." "Sorry mom, I slept past my alarm clock." "Hmm, ok. Did you have an accident?" "Mom," Emily whined, "I didn't wet the bed." She hated being asked that question. It made her feel like a baby. "Alright, I'm just asking," July replied, handing Emily her lunch box and water bottle. "Now come on, let's get going." Grateful her lie had passed, Emily grabbed a pop-tart out of the pantry before climbing into the back seat of the car. Now all she had to do was make it through the school day without her Mom finding her wet bed and pajamas. With that, Emily dove into her strawberry pop-tart with a sigh as her mom pulled out of the driveway. Throughout the school day, all Emily could think about was her accident. She was worried that her mom would find her wet sheets and the thought made her uneasy. Even if her mom didn't find out about her accident, she had no idea how she was going to clean up her sheets without being asked about them. Maybe she could pretend to spill some juice on her sheets to have an excuse to wash them? No, she would still get in trouble for spilling on her bed and her sheets would smell from the accident. The whole thing made her head hurt and she wished she had just worn the stupid Pull-up in the first place. As soon as the bell rang after school, Emily grabbed her backpack and fought her way through the horde of kids to the car rider line. She only had to wait a few minutes before she spotted her mom's car and sure enough her name was called out by one of the teachers. A pit formed in Emily's stomach as she climbed into the back seat of the car. All she wanted to do was pick her mom's brain about whether or not she had found out about her accident. Emily knew better than that though and kept quiet about the subject. "Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?" "It was good. We got to go to PE today instead of music, and I got an A on my math test." Emily's uneasiness was already starting to go away as she relaxed. Her mom was asking the usual after school questions. She didn't seem suspicious at all about the accident. "That sounds like a fun day. Anything else you want to tell me? "Not really. We started a new book today in class, but it's pretty boring." "Is that all you want to tell me about?" "Yyyaaa." Emily fidgeted in her seat. The pit in her stomach was back and she felt a little nauseous. Her mom had to know something was up, but she wasn't going to admit to anything. "Are you sure there's nothing else that happened. Outside of school maybe?" It was over. Emily knew her mom had found out about her accident and it was time to fess up. Her face was bright red and full of shame. She tried to avoid the conversation a minute longer by gazing out the window. "I... I had an accident last night." "I know you did, sweetheart. Why didn't you tell me?" "I don't know." "That's not an answer, Emily." I... I didn't want you to be mad that I didn't wear a Pull-up last night. I'm sorry momm... mom. I... I didn't mean to." Emily was on the verge of tears. She felt bad for lying to her mom. She didn't normally lie, but lying about the accident seemed better than admitting that she hadn't worn a Pull-up to bed like she was supposed to. "Sweetheart, you should have told me this morning." "Would you have been upset?" "Yes, sweetheart, I still would have been upset that you didn't wear a Pull-up, but we all make mistakes. What I'm more upset by is the fact you lied." "I'm sorry, it won't happen again." "I know it won't happen again because there are going to be some changes around the house." "What do you mean?" "You'll find out when we get home. I want to show you your room before we talk." Emily didn't know what to think. What had her mom meant by "changes around the house" and why did she need to see her room? The only thing she knew for sure was that she was in big trouble and she slumped back in her seat, sitting in silence for the rest of the drive. At home, Emily slowly trudged inside and set her backpack down. She watched her mom head upstairs and she tried not to follow. She wanted to stay as far away as possible to try and avoid whatever punishment she was about to receive. "Emily, where do you think you're going, little one?" July asked, holding out her hand. "Come on, let's go see your new room." Little one. Emily had never been called this before. It stopped her dead in her tracks. Her mom had never been so serious and yet so calm before. She had no choice but to take her mom's hand and follow her up the stairs. Taking each step as slow as possible to try and delay the inevitable. Upstairs, Emily found something she wasn't expecting. There was a new sign on her door. It was a cute, pink sign that was very babyish in design. What she couldn't figure out is why it read "Emily's Nursery" in big bold letters. She had to read the sign a second time just to be sure her brain wasn't playing tricks on her. She hadn't been mistaken though, the babyish sign on her door hinted that there was a nursery on the other side of the door. Her nursery. But that didn't make any sense. She didn't have a nursery, she had a bedroom. "Don't be afraid, sweetheart, go look inside." Emily wasn't sure if she wanted to see inside, but her mom's firm hand on her backside coerced her into the room. Thanks for reading! This is my first story here on dailydiapers so please leave a comment and let me know what you think.

Here's my 'first time' story for the 'Stinky, Squishy and Proud' section, almost as I shared it at Experience Project a few years ago — which was the first time I'd ever told anyone I did (and do) this. ----- Imitating My Baby Cousin I was 15 when I pooped my pants on purpose for the first time. I'd been peeing myself for pleasure for about two years by then. Part of the fun of it was all the ways I could make my wettings feel realistic. I acted out every kind of situation I could imagine that ended with me unable to hold on and wetting my pants — being desperate and out of reach of a bathroom, scared suddenly, too shy and embarrassed to ask, delaying until it was too late, wetting my bed the way I used to. But who pees their pants the most? Babies and little kids. A lot of my pee games gravitated to playing out scenes of being two or three or four years old again, failing toilet training — or even being a baby again and just wetting where I sat, or toddled, or lay. But of course babies do more than just wet ... and little kids who are potty training have another kind of accident. I got kind of fascinated with the strange fact that I'd been in diapers for my first two years, and peed and pooped my pants every single day of that time. I had no memories of it, and I'd just about never been around an actual baby or accident or diaper. There weren't any little kids in my family at that age. Being around someone who pooped in their pants seemed like the most embarrassing, forbidden, messy thing in the world. Being a parent who had to clean it up when it happened seemed almost unimaginably disgusting. But I knew peeing my pants had turned out to be one of my greatest pleasures. I was at least a little curious what pooping in them must have been like. When I was fifteen, a year-old cousin came to visit. She was in diapers of course, and was still learning to walk. I wasn't all that interested in babies — as a typical teenage boy they just seemed kind of boring and sometimes loud and a little bit leaky and gross. But the fact that she peed and even pooed in her pants was now of interest. The first afternoon she was with us she had a wet diaper that leaked into her tights, and her mom laid her down and changed her, and I wondered what it must be like for her to be in wet diapers a lot of the time, and just pee without a care in her clothes as she played, or ate, or napped, or cuddled with her mom. A couple of hours after that, the thing I was most curious about happened. She paused in the middle of our living room, squatted slightly, and very obviously pooped in the seat of her diaper. It didn't seem to bother her in the slightest that she'd pooped herself in front of us — or even interest her very much. She went right back to playing and exploring, now with an unmistakeable smell around her that my aunt decided not to notice. And like any kid learning to walk she proceeded to fall down flat on her bum, right into her fresh mess, a few times over the next few minutes. I'd never seen anyone poop their pants before, let alone sit in it, and found it a mix of hilarious, gross and almost unbelievable. I couldn't help wondering what it felt like, when she went in her pants and when it was getting sat in and flattened against her bottom. It kind of made my head explode that the adults, including my parents, didn't do any more than exchange little amused looks, as if it was cute, and just let her keep playing. After maybe 20 minutes my aunt laid her down on the floor again and changed her, the first poopy diaper change I ever remember watching. It was squished all through her diaper. My aunt caught the teenage boy reaction on my face to the smell and mess, and laughed at me and said "I've seen you in dirtier diapers than this." Which was probably true, she'd looked after me sometimes as a baby. I don't know why I kept thinking about something so messy and infantile, but afterward I remembered that scene when I played my wetting games, and the weird true fact that all babies and lots of small kids pooped in their pants every day just like my cousin had, and crawled around like that, and sat in it. I started thinking about all the times I'd pooped in my own pants too at that age, and what it must have been like. And one day soon afterwards I had to know how it felt and knew I was going to try it. I had the house to myself. I needed to go. I chose two pairs of snug underwear, lined them with folded toilet paper, and with a thrill of anticipation all over my body at this strange thing I felt so compelled to experience, I went and stood in the exact spot where I'd watched my cousin fill her pants. I squatted just like she had, pushed just enough to get things started ... and then let go all control of my muscles and let my body take over as I felt myself poop my diaper like a toddler. It felt so much better than I ever would have guessed. Unexpectedly amazing as poop slowly eased out and spread into my pants, warm and just slightly soft, making exciting feelings in some of my most sensitive areas. I stood up and felt poop squish and flatten over my bum for probably the first time in 12 or 13 years. The forbiddenness of what I was doing and the intense curiosity I'd had about doing it amplified every sensation. I tried walking in my 'full' pants, with what I'd done wiggling and moving around under me, and that was exciting and felt good too. And then I went all the way. I toddled like my year-old cousin, just learning to walk, and let myself fall flat onto my bum a bunch of times, as warm, fresh poop spread all through the seat of my pants, and up into the crotch of my makeshift diaper, and up towards my rear waistband, and almost out the legs. And the stimulating sensations of that were almost more than I could take. This time the smell of a baby in a poopy diaper spreading through my family living room was coming from me, and now I knew something about how a baby in that condition felt. I don't do it often. Unlike my cousin, I don't have anyone to clean me up. But once or twice a year something gets me thinking about it again and I know I'll do it soon. I've never forgotten the thrill of anticipation or the sensations of that first time...

“Do I have to take them down myself, little girl?” I hate it when my girlfriend calls me that! Yes, I’m six inches shorter. Yes, she’s eight years older. Yes, she’s the one in charge in our relationship, and yes, this whole domestic discipline thing had all been my idea three years ago, but I’m 30 and Not. A. Little! Girl! Dammit! But all I did instead was whine, “Not here. Please? I’m sorry. Can’t we just wait until we get home?” “Daphne,” Mary said, “this is not up for discussion. Besides, Brenna has seen plenty of bare bottoms spanked, including yours.” I glared at Brenna. We knew her through a local Fetlife group. Sometimes we did just plain vanilla stuff with her, like regular friends, like today, when she’d asked us for help planting trees in her yard. Mary has the green thumb. I hate yard work. “Bare? Can’t it just be over my shorts?” You’d think I’d have gotten used to being spanked, what with not a week going by when I wasn’t, but I never had, which I guess is the point. I looked at Brenna, who was smiling approvingly from the couch. Mary had pulled a kitchen chair into the living room and sat down. “Did your shorts make a rude comment to Brenna? Did your undies? So why would I spank those,” Mary asked me in her stern voice, the one she saves for when she’s talking to me like I’m a naughty little kid. “No,” I mumbled. I’d learned the hard way that there is no such thing as a rhetorical question when I’m in trouble. Mary reached out and grabbed me by the waistband of my innocent shorts and pulled me closer. None of this would have happened if Brenna had just been grateful we were over there helping in the first place. So I’m not Ma Nature - did it really matter if the hole wasn’t exactly fifteen inches deep? Of course, I do have a tendency to kill houseplants, even succulents. But anyway, she was harping on it, and I got irritated and said, “Then why don’t you just do it yourself, dammit?” I’m not sure if I’d have been in so much trouble if I hadn’t added the ‘dammit.’ At least I didn’t interfere while Mary popped the button on my shorts and whisked them, along with my panties, down to me ankles. “How did you get so dirty, anyway,” Daphne asked. “Not like you were putting that much effort into it.” I didn’t need to respond because Mary easily tossed me over her knee. My hands were on the floor, but my feet were not, leaving my butt hanging there. “Anything to say, Daphne,” Mary asked as she rubbed my butt. “I’m really sorry?” “Not as sorry as you will be.” That little rub is all I ever get for a warm up. Mary believes spankings are best delivered hard and fast, and within ten second she’d probably spanked me thirty times. This all started as a relationship with spanking involved, a little role play and bedroom fun. I even spanked her a couple times, though neither of us liked it. Eventually, I said I wanted it to be more than roleplay. I wanted it to be our lifestyle. I shortly thereafter found out just how many issues Mary had with my behavior and how much she’d been wanting to fix them for a while by then. But I wasn’t thinking about the time she had needed to spank me three times in one day. I was thinking about the spanking she was giving me right then. Mary is thorough in everything she does, and a creature of habit. She always starts out spanking me seemingly at random, no order to which side she wails on or how many. She likes to make sure I can’t anticipate anything. I lay there doing my best to hold still and be quiet, trying to keep my eyes closed and pretend Brenna wasn’t there, probably smiling. Only when my butt is a dark pink from top to sit spots does Mary really get going. As she says, this is when the real spanking starts. She stopped assaulting my butt and said, “Hand me the paddle, Daphne.” I freakin’ hate the thing. It’s small, heavy, and has four holes in it. She got it specifically to keep in her purse. She could just use her hairbrush when she disciplines me away from home (dressing rooms are the worst - everyone can hear!), but no, she says knowing she has a just-for-spanking implement with her at all times does a better job reminding me to behave. I pick it up with my left hand and reach behind me to give it to her. She takes it, then takes my arm and pins it behind my back. I’m a wiggler when she uses that thing. She’s like a freakin’ ninja with it. Equal parts thuddy and stingy, she paddles as fast as she hand spanks, but in a tight pattern. Up and down, each spank overlapping with the one before it, in a tight row, then shifting over and working a line from top to sit spot again. She never makes it from one side to the other but that I go from grunts to sobs to tears. Every. Damn. Time. The small paddle bounces off my bottom so fast I don’t even feel the individual spanks anymore. It’s all one swollen throb. She’s gentle, by comparison, with my thighs, but before she’s done with those ten spanks to the tender backs of my legs, I frantically promise, “I’m sorry! I’ll be good! I’ll be good!” Mary finished the last spank, and I lay over limp over her soft lap, big tears falling, and my nose running. It takes me a few seconds to realize Mary is rubbing my back, like she always does after a hard spanking, shushing me gently. When I’m ready, I start to get up, and Mary helps me so that I’m sitting on her lap, my crimson bottom aching when I do, and crying into her shirt as she calms me. “It’s okay, little girl,” she coos to me, “All is forgiven.” She kisses my temple. “Let it all out. That’s my brave girl.” When I get myself under control, though still struggling with the occasional sob and needing badly to blow my nose, she helps me off her lap. “What do you say to Brenna,” Mary asked. I don’t know when I kicked off my shorts and panties, nor do I care. I shuffled over to Brenna. “I’m sorry for being rude,” I said. “I forgive you,” she says, opening her arms. Brenna is big woman, and I all but collapse into her softness. I do like her, even though she has a way of bringing out the brat in me, but that brat never seems to be that far away. I stand between her big thighs, and she rubs my butt with one hand while she hugs me with the other. I’m grateful she does because I’m not allowed to rub. “Mary, why don’t you go take her to wash her face, and I’ll get lunch ready,” Brenna suggests. “Can I have my shorts back,” I ask meekly. “After lunch,” Mary says, holding out her hand. I take it. I like Mary’s hands. I also know she’s gonna lift me up and seat me on the cold vanity, and that it’s gonna feel good for about five seconds then feel clammy and hard. After lunch, I’m for sure gonna dig those holes right, and without a world of complaint.

I have been looking for an online girl to do ageplay with but since most camming sites don't allow it. I wonder if anyone knows a real beautiful girl who knows how to be a real little girl.

CHAPTER ONE PERSONAL LOG: Stardate 44317.8 Welcome to the USS Hyacinth, the oldest (and only) running Miranda-class vessel in all of Starfleet. Once upon a time it was a science vessel, built during an age when tensions with the klingons ran high. Now it’s little more than a cargo ship and personnel transport; easy assignment for an engineer straight out of the Academy. We’d just shipped out of Risa, the infamous pleasure planet; not that the crew collected any stories. We had a schedule to keep and no leave outstanding. What little we saw involved half-naked locals waving goodbye to our passengers. We ushered them aboard the away vessel and began our journey to the nearest star base. Not that I was bothered. Risa has its reputation for a reason, and brags billions of satisfied visitors, but that’s not me. Sex is great, but I’m just not a ‘Risa’ kind of girl. The things I want are… complicated. God, what I wouldn’t give for a working holodeck, and a night’s freedom from Starfleet protocol. Life aboard the Hyacinth comes with challenges, but rarely with difficulty. The ship itself is in good shape despite being over a century old. The crew, twenty five in total, are friendly enough, though we have little to talk about. By the time my shifts end I’m eager to return to my quarters, replicate a meal, snuggle my teddybear, and pass the time watching andorian melodramas. It gets lonely sometimes. We all get lonely, but the shape of my feelings aren’t the kind to be shared. I check in with a Starfleet counsellor every couple of weeks, but there are no practical outlets to meet this need. Three days into our journey to Star Base 12 and I received a call from one of the passengers. The replicator in her quarters had shorted out, and she was in desperate need of a raktajino. It was close to the end of my shift, but didn’t mind making the effort as the other ensign signed on. ‘Love Songs of the Forbidden Moon’ could wait. I moved to the passenger level, walked along the corridor, and pressed my thumb to the bell. The doors hissed open, and immediately I was dumbstruck. There in the center of the room stood a woman, naked as the day she was born, smiling without a care in the world. I covered my eyes. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have-” “No, no, don’t be silly,” she said. “Come in. You’re here to repair the replicator, yes?” “Yes, but… ma’am. You’re naked!” She hummed. “Yes, I’m aware. Nudity is nothing to be ashamed of.” My shoulders turtled to swallow my head. “I appreciate that, ma’am, but if it’s all the same to you I’d prefer if you wore clothes.” The passenger huffed. I listened as she sorted through her things and waited until she found adequate attire. When I dared to look, curious in spite of myself, she wore an incandescent blue gown that clung to her shape. Heavy breasts, round hips, she was the embodiment of a mythical goddess. I followed her body upward to the thick, scarlet curls that ran down her shoulders. She turned, persing her sharp and very full lips. “Is that better?” she asked. I nodded dumbly and collected myself. Yes, she was the most beautiful woman I’d seen in a long time, let alone stood near, but I was there to do a job. She was a passenger, not a potential date. Even so, what were the chances of… No. I wouldn’t go there. The replicator proved an easy fix. “One of the photon sequencers is misaligned,” I said, and crouched to reach the upper corner of the machine. One new micro-coupling and a psionic fixer later and it would be as good as new. It was the kind of work I could do in my sleep, or with an attractive distraction lingering in the room. She took a seat at a nearby table, and crossed one leg over the other. My heart beat faster. The smell of sex lingered from under her robe, conjuring memories of the last time I lay with a partner. It seemed forever ago, and my body ached for it. The sooner I could return to my quarters the better. “You didn’t tell me your name,” she said. “Ensign Morris, ma’am.” “Morris,” she hummed, her voice deep and smokey. “Do you have a first name, ensign?” I hesitated, but thought better than to catch her eye. “Sally… ma’am. And you?” Her deep forest eyes probed under the layers of my Starfleet uniform, prompting a shiver down my spine. She finally answered, “Artemis.” A goddess in body, and a goddess in name. How ironic that she should share a title with a patron of chastity. Her wild aura, however, seemed entirely apt. “Does it get lonely out here, Sally?” Her asking sent goosebumps running down my arms, not because there was anything wrong with the question, but because of how it called attention to my plight. Space, and the confines of a starship, were isolating at the best of times. But I didn’t tell her that. Instead we chatted about my home on Earth, just outside of Alberta, and my Mom’s ginger snap cookies that no machine could replicate. The hollow in my chest deepend, pining for the familiar, but work was there as welcome distraction. The photon sequencer snapped into line, and the job was done. I started to place my tools back into their box. “You’re human, yes?” As though being from Earth didn’t imply that. “Yes,” I said. “I find humans delightful,” she said. “You believe yourself the rulers of your emotions, but anyone with the mildest sense knows the undercurrents you suppress.” My body tensed further. “You’re betazoid.” She warmed like a breeze that filled the room. Thick plates of transparent aluminum shielded us from the void of space, so it had to be her. “Got it in one,” she said. When I moved to stand she placed a hand on my shoulder and with great care guided me down again. “I’d like you to stay on your knees a while, if that’s alright.” I should have been insulted. As an officer of Starfleet it was unbecoming to fall for the wiles of a passenger in transit. There were protocols about this sort of thing. And yet to do so would be bluster. She was a betazoid, an empath! She could sense the arousal in my belly, the spinning in my head, the deep desire inspired by a strong woman looming above. Her hand stroked my cheek like palm fronds in the wind, and she hushed. God help me, I curled into her touch. Starfleet be damned, she wrested authority from them with the smallest motion. “I… I…” Her voice softened, almost sang. “It’s alright, my girl. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got you.” She knew this was my weakness. The sex, the wanting, the throne she held by sitting above. Before I was even aware she held all of the cards, and was playing them to her advantage. Worse yet, I wanted her to. My body was a cacophony of desire hungry for sensation; for her to touch, to claim me, make me small, make me hers, to fill me, to hold me, to… to… I pulled away and snapped to my feet. Tears pricked my eyes, but they did not break my resolute stance as an officer of Starfleet. My shoulders stiffened and I started for the door, forgetting my toolbox as I did. “This can’t happen,” I said, telling myself as much as I did her. Artemis glided to her feet and smiled. Her understanding was like a beacon in the dark, begging me to fall. “You don’t have to be ashamed,” she said. “You’re not a little girl.” The words struck like a hammer. Why did she have to say that? The air left my lungs, and my body was on the verge of collapse. All I wanted was to scream and to cry, to find somewhere safe, but there was nowhere to turn. Her expression turned. The cold in my chest was hers as well. With painted shock she flew to me and wrapped her arms tight. Wide stretched loving hands cradled my back, running up and down in a soothing motion. “Except you are a little girl,” she gasped in realization, “and nobody has seen you in a very, very long time.” Tears rolled down my cheeks like boulders. Shame caught in my throat. I was small in her arms, afraid, without the disciplined Starfleet officer to protect me. All I had was this strange and sudden women whose song and whose hands knew where to go. Finally I held her back, shaking, clinging with all I had. “I’m sorry. I-I can’t…” “Shhhh.” Her digit stroked my brow, removing a strand of hair so she could see me fully. I didn’t want her to see. The thought turned my knees to jelly. If experience had taught me anything it was that little girls were difficult to love when their hearts sat in an adult body. Flashbacks of every confused lover flew across my senses. Some were angry, others so bewildered by the reality that they turned cold. Why should this be any different? Artemis swayed, and cooed, and sang. Her hands were like magic, weaving warmth with every turn. “It’s alright, babygirl,” she said. “I’ve got you. I’ll protect you.” No. I wasn’t a baby. I was an adult. Nobody could protect me. I had to protect myself. But her words shattered my cold ego. Once upon a time I thought someone so loving a fantasy; something that could at best be created on the holodeck. But there she was, flesh and blood, resting my head above the cradle of her breast. I cried, I cried, and I cried. Hot tears spilled off my cheeks and onto her skin. Artemis didn’t seem to mind at all, and encouraged these out of control feelings with a gentle tone. Somewhere in an ocean of sobs I stopped being Ensign Morris of the USS Hyacinth, and became Sally, the small child wandering the distant cosmos.

Hello my name is Tasha and I love to roleplay in my free time. I'm looking for people to roleplay with on different apps like google hangouts, whatsapp, discord, telegram, messanger, kik and here as the last resort if you don't have any of those. I'm also a switch but mostly prefer to the little than the mommy. Sometimes I am willing to play as the mommy. Males are more than welcome to join but they have to be willing to play as a Female if they want to be a caregiver. Here are some of the scenes i've come up with : 1) Forced Baby/Little Girl So my idea for this role play was our characters are ether friends... or close Co workers.... Yourself character has always wanted a baby/little girl of her own and has fallen in love or taken a fancy toy character... So she takes my character forces her.. and grooms her into being her baby/little girl.. and when she doesn't do as mommy wants she punishes her... etc.. calling her mommy, taking a dummy, obeying orders,breastfeeding and etc. . Yes this would include age play. Please message me to discuss this role play further :) 2)Dominant Woman kinky dominant woman with a strong and powerful imagination to do a forced regression role-play where you would regress me all the way to complete adult babyhood against my will . I thought we could start with normal characters such as teacher student with me as a student . Then at some point You kind of drug and kidnap me And force regress me to complete adult babyhood against m'y Will . All m'y adult abilities Being taken away Step by Step as i cant do anything about it . Would You like something that kind? 3) Doctor/Patient I come in as a new patient for a physical exam and you are secretly a mommy dom looking for a little girl the minute you see me you know that you want me as your little girl no matter what.\ 4) Sugar Mommy/Sugar Baby You have always wanted a child but cant have any kids because of a medical condition so you decide to make a post online saying that you a looking for a new sugar baby that you just want to love on and spoil like crazy but also treat like a small child in return i do what ever you want me to do. 5 Boss/Assitant You recently found out you can't have kids.You've always wanted kids. And i am your assitant/ close friend and one day you decide to call me into your office and give me a offer i cant refuse. 6) Concerned Sister/ Best Friend/ Boss/ Coworker This can go a few ways, A concerned sibling, best friend, or coworker, etc. Any who you being to notice how stressed out I am, and decided that I needed to relax. I refuse your help at first, telling you i am okay but that wont cut it. You learn about ageplay and decided thats what i need based on my stress levels and childhood. you invite me and that's where you gently but with a firm hand try to get me to attempt this lifestyle. I let you do as please and you tell me to give it a week and its really so bad we could let it go and move on like nothing happened. Slowly but surely i start to enjoy it. 7) Babysitter where the babysitter is female celebrity and forces me to be a babygirl sand forces me to breastfeed from them while she watches me over the summer. The celebrity has to be under 35 i will make some exceptions depending on the celebrity The rp must include : FORCED BREASTFEEDING FORCED AGEPLAY You playing a female celebrity. 8) Best Friend where we could be best friends and im going to spend the whole summer at your house since both are parents are going to be away. So the first night you put a muscle relaxant in my drink to make me wet the bed. You do it two more times and you decide enough is enough so you force me into diapers and to be you babygirl and breastfeed. If your interested please let me know by messaging in the comments section or by pming me on here and we can talk more. or messaging on kik at lovetorp365 Also please let me know the following and i will let you know if your in or not. Name: Age Gender Time Zone Little/Caregiver/Switch: Little Age: Sexual or Non Sexual : Celebrity Choice Scene Choice: Username: If you dont message me with the list ive left i will not respond to you.

An original story about a twenty five year old woman who visits her best friend. Did her friend party too hard and fry her brain? Why has she decided to give up on being an adult and become a baby? Is it possible that something beyond her comprehension has forced her to be a baby? Find out below. Lauren stepped out of her car and looked at her friend's house or, more correctly, her friend's mother's house. It had been over a week since the young woman of twenty four had heard from her friend. Typically, they exchanged phone calls frequently throughout the week, supplementing the gaps in between with texts about various subjects and what not. However, Abbigail had stopped answering her phone and numerous texts were ignored during the last five days or so. The girls used to work at the same office until Abbigail had lost her job about a month ago and, while she was being a downer, for obvious reasons, she always maintained some semblance of contact with her best friend. This period of silence between the two unnerved the usually upbeat and confident young woman. Hell, she would've stopped by sooner, but a major project at the office had been dumped in her lap. Thankfully, Lauren had wrapped it up and used her first day off, in what seemed like forever, to check in on her friend. "She better be okay." The young lady in her small denim jacket and blue jeans muttered to herself as she walked up the driveway. One thing stood out to Lauren: Abbigail's car no longer occupied the patch of pavement in front of the Tudor style household. 'Had she just up and moved? Maybe she was out looking for another job or cruising around, smoking a joint?' A multitude of possibilities rushed through the young professional's mind, but one slightly significant detail did go unnoticed: a large, pink carseat occupied the backseat of the black Mercedes Benz SUV. *Knock* *Knock* An older Asian woman opened the door. This kind yet firm woman was none other than Mrs. Yoshikawa. Lauren knew the older lady well enough from her youthful days of playing with Abbigail and numerous nights filled with sleepovers. "Hello, Lauren!" She smiled and welcomed the petite girl in. "I wasn't expecting you to stop by." "I decided to stop by and see if Abbigail was in. I haven't heard from her in over a week." Lauren stated, facing Mrs. Yoshikawa in the foyer, her back turned to the hallway which led to the living room. "You sure picked a bad time to stop by." Mrs. Yoshikawa replied. "Why?!" Lauren exclaimed, noting the surprised look on the older woman's face, lowering her tone of voice as she continued her questioning. "What happened to Abbigail?" "Aside from a nasty dirty diaper this morning? Nothing." Mrs. Yoshikawa chuckled, walking away from the stunned girl by the door. "Dirty diaper?" Lauren muttered, following behind the middle aged woman. "Is she sick?" "No, my little Abbie is just fine. See for yourself!" With that said, the two women entered the living room. Blankets were placed randomly, toys strewn about haphazardly and the remnants of a few empty baby bottles littered the carpeted floor. However, all of this paled in comparison to the main attraction of this infantile circus: Abbigail suspended in a giant baby swing, legs dangling due to the massive, plastic bulk between in her legs. "Abbie, sweetie!" Mrs. Yoshikawa called out to the baby woman in the baby swing. "Your friend, Lauren is here!" "Abbigail!? What the hell are you- Is that a diaper?!" Lauren ran over to her friend, dodging the toys scattered about the floor as if they were landmines. Abbigail, or Abbie, grinned at her friend, like she was missing the punchline of a joke. "I'm a baby now." The diapered girl punctuated the statement with a nice spit bubble that instantly popped, sending spittle down her cute little chin. "I see a twenty five year old pot head, wearing a diaper while seated in some kind of bondage swing!" Lauren stated bluntly. "Look, it's better like this. No more stress, no more drama, no more icky jobs or boys. Just mommy and my binky." Abbigail reached her hand into her oversized pamper and plucked a pacifier from within the moist confines of it. Unbeknownst to Lauren, the glistening sheen on the bulb on the plastic teat was from her friend's pussy. The best part of her newfound babyhood was the way her diapers made her feel: constantly aroused! "You're not going to put that in your mouth are you? Abbigail giggled, nodding like a naughty girl, pushing the wet oversized bulb into her mouth. Savoring the flavor of her womanly essence. She loved swirling the pacifier around in her mouth, her tongue encircling it and drawing it in past her lips repeatedly, suckling it for all it was worth. It felt great against the roof of her mouth and against the gaps that were starting to form in her once perfect smile. "Look, you can't just give up being an adult." Lauren stared straight into Abbigail's eyes, ready to make a passionate argument about the beauty of adulthood. However, she faltered, unable to really find anything worth arguing about. Her childhood was pretty great after all, but she knew of two things her lifelong friend couldn't live without. "What about pot? I don't know many two year olds that can smoke." "Dun, needid." Abbie muttered behind her pacifier, a steady stream of drool starting to cascade down her chin. "Fine, what about cock?" Lauren knew that Abbigail couldn't last without a man in her life. The girl had been boy crazy since middle school. "What guy is going to want to fuck a twenty five year old girl who wears pissy pampers, huh?" Abbie spat the pacifier right at Lauren's face, the hard plastic shield bouncing off the other girl's forehead. "Oww, you bitch!" Lauren raised her hands up to the point of impact, rubbing the spot due to instinct. It honestly surprised her more than anything. "Pfffttt! Stop bothering me! I'm a baby now, got it?!" "No! Not until you get out of that diaper and get out of, whatever the hell that thing is that you're bouncing around in." "Mooommm!" Abbigail cried out. "I want milk!" Mrs. Yoshikawa came walking over to her twenty five year old baby, lifting her up from the big baby swing, setting the topless adult onto her hip. "It's time for little Abbie's feeding, yes it is!" The woman in her late forties proclaimed in a tone of voice best reserved for toddlers. Lauren could only marvel in morbid fascination at the display of strength displayed by Mrs. Yoshikawa. Abbigail was no porker, but she was still a full grown woman, weighing in at about one twenty while her mother probably only weighed twenty pounds more than her. Regardless, of weight or size, the mother carried her adult baby daughter with ease. "Abbigail, how is your mom so strong? Is she a weightlifter or something?" Lauren asked, feeling stupid by trying to justify how a middle-aged house wife could possibly bench press her twenty five year old daughter. "Don't be silly, Lauren. She's my mom." Abbie replied, as she was sat on the couch. Her mother adjusted the girl's position until she was in just the right spot. Mrs. Yoshikawa rapidly unbuttoned her top, revealing her nursing bra, each nipple purple and in pain, engorged and leaking white milk. "Latch on, Abbie. Drain mommy dry." Mrs. Yoshikawa encouraged the twenty five year old. "You've got to be kidding me!" Lauren said in a disgusted tone, standing about five feet away from the bizarre spectacle which assaulted her eyes. Meanwhile, Abbie was in utter bliss, enraptured by the rich, creamy ambrosia flowing into her mouth with each suckling. She barely even noticed that what remained of her teeth had disappeared, receded into her gums, leaving them sore and aching for relief. Only the pain which her toothless maw emitted told the twenty five year old that something was wrong. Luckily, for Abbie, the milk slowly soothed her gums. "Abbigail! You have to stop!" Lauren screamed, but it was too late for her friend. Abbigail was drunk on the infantile euphoria produced by her mother's magical breast milk. She paused her suckles for just the briefest of moments and looked at Lauren with a scowl. "Imm twing ta dwink mai boobie milk! Gidda hew od of hew!" Abbie lisped in the most angry voice she could utter. "Such a fussy baby, I think it's time for your nap." Mrs. Yoshikawa pulled Abbigail from thr other breast and pushed a large pacifier into her mouth. She then proceeded to wrap her diapered adult newborn into a large fleece blanket. She slowly lifted the baby woman from her lap, carrying the pacifier suckling twenty five year old newborn, swaddled up in the pink blanket past Lauren and up the stairs. "Can you close the door on your way out? Thanks!" The young, professional business woman was absolutely flabbergasted by the chain of events she had witnessed from within the Yoshikawa household. Unsure of whether this was a bad dream, drug trip or something more ethereal, she left out the front door as she was instructed. She didn't want to join Abbigail and had to admit defeat. However, no matter how Abbigail ended up like that, one thing was certainly crystal clear: she didn't want to be an adult anymore. To be continued... If you enjoyed this type of story, then please check out my Patreon for other wild tales of diapers and adult babyhood! https://www.patreon.com/user?u=6660213