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Real Age

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  1. Dreamer I stretched, yawned and wriggled myself awake. I reached for my phone to check the time - 7.28 - fantastic, the best continuous night’s sleep I’d had for quite some time. Well, apart from a visit to the bathroom for a piss but otherwise, over ten hours. I was quite pleased with myself. I laid in my warm cocoon knowing that any minute I had to get up for school but so pleased with myself for catching up on what had been a few awful restless nights, I wanted to make the most of my bed’s welcoming comfort. I slipped my hand further under the blanket and rubbed up against the thick plastic pants, the huge expanded bulk underneath told me I hadn’t had the wonderful damp-free night I thought I’d had. How come I can dream of going to the toilet and executing a wonderful, no-hassle pee, yet in reality I can never rouse myself from the sleep I’m having? Even when I’m having a terrible night’s sleep, with constant wakeful interruptions, it’s when I doze, even for a few seconds that my bladder tends to operate under its own terms. In my dreams I can simply get up and go. Mind you, I tend not to be wearing thick padding in my dreams so can easily access my straining cock. I suppose that’s another thing; how come I dream so much of taking a piss? There’s never any huge build up to it, I just go and feel the relief afterwards as if I’d naturally gone to the loo. I can often hear my pee hitting the water or bouncing off the porcelain so that makes me think that my dream is real and I’m doing it for real. Except I’ve slept through the entire event and flooded my nappy, though I have to admit that is a lot better than a waterlogged bed. I hope one day someone can explain just how that works because so far doctors, relations and even Google have been unable to come to any agreement on the matter. I’ll grant that they all have good ideas but the actual reason appears to be one hell of a mystery. I mean, how can it be that for the most part of my life, well since I was three to just a few months ago I slept happily dry but not so now? As far as I can remember there’s been no trauma or accident or anything that could have caused me to suddenly lack the ability to get up in the night for a pee. It’s simply ridiculous. How can I dream the action but not action the action? # My bedroom door opens and in walks mum. A few weeks ago she used to knock first but now I’m in nappies she seems to think she can come in when she likes. I’ve tried to explain this to her, that I need some privacy, but she just ignores my request and simply refuses to see my argument. She says that now I’m wetting secrecy is a thing of the past. Apparently she’s there to make sure I’m awake and remind me I have school (as if I wasn’t aware) and to make sure that these unfortunate incidents haven’t had an adverse effect on me. She doesn't want me hiding myself away and worrying about it. “Just making sure you’re okay and slept well... and both your father and I want you to know... this will pass before long.” Actually, what I think she’s doing is checking her plan of putting me back in night time nappies and plastic protection is working and that her precious bedding is safe. I first wet the bed almost three months ago and mum was quick to suggest I wore a nappy. Of course I resented the very idea but she said that her brother, my Uncle Tom (who now lives in Australia), had a similar problem when he was my age and their mother’s quick decision to make him wear protection had saved everyone a load of heartache. Like me he disagreed with her solution to the problem, and also like me found he had no option. It was simple, cheap and completely effective in what it had to do, whilst a consensus of family opinion meant that a nappy was the answer so, as a shy teenager like me, he didn’t get a say in that particular outcome. My gran (a strong-willed woman to say the least) had been definite that the bed, bedding, jammies and the self-esteem of not swirling around in a sea of urine made it so no one but her son was affected by his burst of incontinence. Apparently he wore that bedtime protection for another twelve months or so before he seemed to “Grow out of it”. Mum applied the same logic to me and despite my teenage tantrum, denials and pleading, I was put back into nappies and made to wear vinyl pants to avoid any chance of leakage. The speed that mum had everything at her disposal was frightening, as if she’d expected me to have this problem at some point in my school life. She alleged that after that first morning of finding me in a wet bed she remembered Tom’s problem and immediately went into overdrive, locating everything she thought I’d need online and spent the day collecting it. She said she wouldn’t allow me to have a second night wallowing around in a pee-soaked bed, especially when there was such a simple preventative system she intended putting into practice. I came home from school to find my dresser just a pile of fabric nappies and a couple of packets containing ‘baby’ pants. There was a small bowl with baby pins (pink, green and blue) and an array of powders and creams, I was stunned mum had garnered together this arsenal of products to take care of my one night of bed-wetting. It was a huge surprise for a fourteen year old schoolboy. I found these ranks of supplies for an accidental, once in a lifetime, wet bed a bit over the top and quite wounded by just how convinced she was that I’d need it all. Waking up to such a mishap was an ordeal (and awful shock) in itself and although I wasn’t expecting too much sympathy I did think she’d see it as just a freak event. It wasn’t like I’d been secretly drinking or got myself into a state... it was simply misfortune. As I lay on my bed and looked at the stuff I wondered why, if she thought I needed it, she hadn’t just bought a pack of Pampers disposables and then seen how things progressed from there. That pile suggested she was getting ready for a long campaign, whilst I thought it was just a one off, a misfortune and nothing to go to such extremes over. As far as I was concerned this wasn’t a calamity - just an unlucky accident. I tried to argue that point but she wouldn’t heed my objection and said it was best to be on the safe side. She was of the firm opinion that making sure my bed and bedding was defended from ‘further urinary damage’ should I pee again, was a worthy principle; laundry would be less and I’d be the only one affected. She couldn’t see a downside to her argument and I failed to defend my case with any hope of success. She promised that if I didn’t wet for a ‘few’ (unspecified) nights then she’d re-think the nappies. I looked at the supplies piled up on the dresser and knew she was expecting the worst. # Actually, when I think about it, this wasn’t the first time I’d wet the bed. When I’d just turned twelve I was having trouble sleeping, I didn’t know why I just was having such terrible interrupted nights. My brain would fixate on one subject (usually of no relevance to anything I could recall) and would lie in bed tossing and turning as if trying to shake the thing from my brain. At the time mum was also having trouble sleeping and was using a programme of ‘natural sounds and delta waves’ to enable a peaceful night’s slumber. It appeared to have worked, as she was far more relaxed and offered the IPad to see if it would do the same for me. Mum herself was against using pills and ‘medicine’ at the best of times and preferred either to let nature take its course (as with colds and flu) or try something natural, like sounds and meditation. She wasn't a homeopathic nutter but thought quite a lot of things would sort themselves out in due course. As the sounds had some effect on her, suggested I give it a try. I scrolled down the ‘relaxing sounds’ section and found one I thought would work for me – Rain Forest. I was expecting the night calls and general wind-in-trees type of thing but in fact it was just as it said; rain... in the rain forest. I don’t know how or why it happened but I woke up in quite a large puddle of my own pee. I was shocked and worried what mum would say but she just laughed (yes laughed) and said she found it funny that the rain forest had made me soak my PJs. However, she also explained that was why all our mattresses in the house had protectors over them... because you never knew when a nocturnal mishap might occur. Anyway, despite her good humour on that occasion, as she stripped the bed and sent me to get a shower she did say that if it happened again, for whatever reason, I’d be wearing nappies to sleep in from then on. I think she was just firing a warning shot because I didn’t pee the bed again until, well, I’ve just told you. However, the speed she got all the stuff together made me think that maybe she had some items already. Meanwhile, I dumped those little night rhythms and sounds and slept without any help from the Amazonian Rain Forest or any other supposedly relaxing therapy. # I can tell you that at fourteen years old I dreaded any of my friends finding out but in our small community, and mum being a very chatty person with all the neighbours, my secret couldn’t last long. However, she did say that I wasn’t the only one with such a ‘problem’ but wouldn’t tell me who the other person(s) were. I spent quite a bit of time scrutinising the washing lines between my home and school for some indication. I thought if my nappies were blowing in the wind, which they seemed to be on a daily basis, and then there was a good chance theirs would be too. I did see the occasional pair of plastic pants and nappies drying on the line but thought they were too small to belong to anyone but a baby. Knowing there were others, but finding no evidence to back mum’s declaration, I began to feel alone and a bit stupid. I mean, staring at folks washing was definitely a bit pervy. However, the main problem was... why should I start pissing the bed? Suddenly I was waking up to a soaked nappy (as mum had predicted). It just didn’t make any sense unless I was regressing back to my childhood. However, like I told you when I was twelve, any last thought at night began to occupy my nocturnal deliberations and sleep was difficult. When I did drop off I dreamt of babies (of which I was one) and when awake that notion just kept turning over in my mind. It was uncomfortable on so many levels, none of which I was happy with... I just wanted to sleep at night and wake up dry. Don’t ask me why that particular ‘being a baby’ theory should have taken over my mind but it did. (I suppose the nightly nappy and plastic pants made a bigger impression on my psyche than I’d given it credit for.) I convinced myself that’s just what I was and daily got more and more depressed as I thought about it. I slipped from being a reasonably outgoing lad, to a self-pitying toddler. Each night, as I fitted my nightly cushion of protection, I felt myself slipping further and further back to my childhood. I’d get upset if I couldn’t get the pins in right, or pricked myself, or I’d not fastened the nappy on tight enough. I was a mess and, if no one else was around, I’d even shed a few miserable, frustrated tears. Pulling up the plastic pants (which mum insisted I always wore with a nappy) more or less proved I was a baby. So that act and thought would stick with me and the entire dream scenario would kick off again. It was like that particular theme was on constant replay. # Equally, if I managed to avoid that specific dream the other one, the one where I knew I was peeing into a toilet, took centre stage. I’d confidently spray the white ceramic bowl, listening to the splash that indicated my aim was true, often zipping up and moving on to continue to do whatever it was I was doing before my toilet break. It was two very exacting dreams; one where I was a baby, the other where I was myself, but both ended with a wake-up call of soggy misery. However, they weren’t the only two because later I dreamt I was in church, singing along with the rest of the congregation when suddenly I felt the spirit of the Lord enter me... except it wasn’t the spirit of the Lord. That nice warming glow that was wonderful and uplifting was a tepid sodden nappy when I woke up. The reason this was strange was that as a family, we didn’t go to church. Mum and dad weren’t interested and the only times I remember going was for a wedding and a couple of Christenings, other than that my experience of church was limited. However, I do watch a lot of television and it is more than likely that I was influenced by something I saw... but I don’t know what. What was even worse was that it wasn’t every morning that I woke up soaked. For instance, last Monday and Tuesday I was dry. I was jubilant for twenty four hours but Wednesday night I wet, Thursday was dry but this morning... incredibly soaked. Of course, the few weeks prior I’d wet almost every night so even when I did wake up dry the feelings of euphoria only lasted a short while. Mum had gone out of her way to make sure that the rubber pants she bought were the most sturdy she could find, so the things I had to wear at night gripped me tightly so there was no danger at all of fluid escape. I even went back to wearing jammies over them in the hope of disguising the bulk a little bit but in the end I was so hot I could hardly bear wearing anything to sleep in other than what I had to. # Although nappies were the first recourse for mum she did, after visits to the doctor and a child psychologist (which she was dead against but dad insisted I give it a go), suggested I try yoga. Having had all the other attempts at curbing my nightly flood fail: From drinking less, to getting woken up in the middle of the night - those relaxing tapes, to various homeopathic potions, it seemed an option I should at least attempt. I just couldn’t take seriously all these po-faced, loose-limbed women (only one guy) stretching and being some kind of ‘downward dog’ or some such, it left me mentally mocking the entire group. I’m sure if they knew I was a fourteen year-old still wetting the bed, they might have been ridiculing me. Anyway, I left them and tried visualisation. The trouble with this was, as soon as I found my vision, it would be usurped by my baby or toilet ‘situation’ and then that was all that occupied my head. Someone suggested to mum that I try hypnosis but she was even more sceptical about that and told her friend that she’d keep that suggestion on the back-burner for a while to see if I improved naturally. I didn’t. The doctor did eventually prescribe some pills, much to mum's resistance, but they had no effect either. So, a dry nappy with thick and durable see-thru plastic pants became the last thing I saw at night and a wet bulky one the first thing I saw in the morning. To feel the morning tightness of an expanded pair of slippery looking plastic pants let me know, in a totally unsubtle manner, that I’d wet again. I could have done without that particular wake-up call. Having said that, despite that firm grip being annoying in the beginning, it didn’t take me too long to come to terms with that particular sensation. Mum had said that I should think of them like a knight relies on his armour for protection and he wouldn’t be daft enough to wonder into a battle zone wearing just his vest and pants (we both giggled at this bizarre comparison). Although my parents were resolute in their actions they just took it as read that these things happen. Punishment or angry voices were never part of their dealing with what was going on. I suppose with Uncle Tom to point to as proof of this philosophy, I didn’t get any negativity at home. However, before they retired for the night mum or dad would come and check to make sure I wasn’t already wet because mum said I should try and prevent laying around in a damp nappy for too long. I don’t think they ever changed me whilst I slept because I’m sure I would have woken up if they’d tried. However, I wasn’t certain if I thought it weird or comforting that they checked. # As I say, mum had bought in all new stuff to cope with my situation. Mrs Pradesh, our neighbour, whose own family had grown up and moved away, offered some of the stuff they’d worn as kids should I need it but mum declined. Apparently, they’d been late in toilet training and she had quite a collection of preventative clothing. Just how late they were in coming to terms with the potty she never revealed but, judging by the size of their colourful nappies, they were at least as old as me. I’d got around a dozen white terry fabric nappies and half a dozen different pairs of vinyl pants, some of which seemed a little more robust than others. Waking up saggy and soggy, whilst these stout pants made sure I was leak-proof, was an interesting way to start the day. I say interesting, what I mean is...not very ego boosting. My self-esteem dipped and the need for that night time force-field was all I could think about... and be indebted to. The paraphernalia of making sure the required area was clean, dry and (mum insisted) smooth, together with the thick preventative creams, lotions and powders I had to administer each night made bed time a complete humiliation. Mum had talked me through the nappy operation at the beginning but then said she trusted me to do it properly myself. Then, having had one or two leaking problems because I hadn’t been thorough enough, threatened to come up and do it herself, which would mean an early bedtime of 7.30. At fourteen I didn’t want to be called in for bed that early as it would have been total humiliation for my mates to know about it. So, I knuckled down and made sure I did as good a job as mum in getting my nappy and protection up to speck. She also threatened there’d be sporadic, unannounced checks and, should it not be in place correctly, it would be a 6pm bedtime and she would supervise every aspect of getting me ready “Like I did when you were a baby”. She smiled as she said this but I’m convinced she meant it. As you might imagine this focused my attention on every detail mum had advocated. # I tried to get dad on side but he was in complete agreement with mum and, in an effort to stop my constant grumbling promised that I’d be wearing a nappy all day as well as all night if I didn’t do as they said... and ‘stop whining’. Dad saying that, and mum threatening a 6pm bed time, made me take my wetting a bit more seriously. I had been thinking that I shouldn’t be punished for something I had no control over but they said I wasn’t being punished for that... my wet nights were being contained. What I would be punished for was my constant complaining and miserable face, which they said they shouldn’t be punished having to look at when my wetting wasn’t their fault. Why do parents have the clever come backs? I have to admit since I’d started wetting I was constantly in a mood. I couldn’t see any upside to my problem and I dreaded my friends catching on... although one or two might have known, no one said anything... to my face anyway. Either side my immediate neighbours didn’t have kids my age. The Wilson's at Number 14 had twins almost two years ago, whilst the Pradesh’s at Number 18 had grown up kids who’d left and had families of their own. What this meant was that the washing line wasn’t over-looked by any of my school friends so my daily laundry was hidden from any possible prying eyes. However, both sides offered mum their support and empathy having a teenager still in need of protection. So, as I mentioned, last night I dreamt I’d gone to the toilet with no problem, yet woke up as normal sopping wet. After three months it was all getting too much and I was severely depressed not wanting to do much or go anywhere. Then it happened, the one thing I was positive would never happen, Saturday morning I fell asleep in front of the TV and, wearing only a pair of cotton briefs under my P.E. shorts, peed myself and soaked the sofa. ~ tbc ~
  2. A commission piece from way back when. I hope y'all enjoy! * * * * From: Kaitlyn.Walsh@[REDACTED] Received: Yesterday, 10:30pm Subject: Re: Your Dirty Little Secret Hello William, It must be difficult to imagine that you’d receive an email like this from me, your office rival, but given the circumstances how could I resist? After all, it’s not everyday that a woman climbing the corporate ladder comes across such a juicy tidbit; and believe me I intend to exploit it for everything it’s worth. What am I talking about? Oh, I’m sure you already have some idea. I’ll bet your heart is racing as you wonder, “how did she find out?” You thought you’d unplugged all the security cameras that night, but I’m here to tell you, William, that no, you didn’t; and now I’ve seen everything. I saw you, William. I know that underneath that Armani suit your Daddy bought for you is a shy little boy who likes to wet his diapers. Honestly, I didn’t think you were the type; not until the guard and I watched your hand snake down the band of your disposable nappy, lean back in your office chair and grab for your pathetic cock, all the while moaning behind a pacifier. Don’t worry about Lawrence, the guard. He won’t tell a soul. All he cares about is keeping his job. He would never dream about trying to blackmail an executive who could bully him into the unemployment line before you could whimper for Daddy. I promised that he could stay, meaning that if you move against him you’ll have me to contend with; that prospect already has you shaking in your baby booties, I’m sure. When did it all begin, William? I can imagine you as a young teen stealing diapers whenever you got the chance, then slipping them on under your clothes. Maybe you deliberately wet the bed so that your mother and father would force you to wear them. The act left you humiliated, but deep down you knew you couldn’t stop; the crinkle of the plastic, the cotton lining rubbing against your special area, all of it was too much to resist. The fantasy of being a sweet little baby nursing at your mother’s ample tit made you so hard you couldn’t help but touch yourself; and so you were cumming and cumming, night after night. Does that sound familiar at all? William, you really are a dirty, dirty little boy. That wasn’t all I discovered. Imagine my surprise when I went down to the accounting department and found a number of ambiguous receipts charged to the company; imagine my surprise when I discovered that the ‘Madison Long Massage Co.’ was the cover name for a local mistress who was very happy to do away with client discretion for just the right price. Oh, the stories that she told. Did you like it when she spanked your tushy, making it all sore and red? Did you like it when you suckled the milk from her breasts until it dribbled down your chin? (I didn’t know one could induce lactation outside of pregnancy, but you live and learn.) Did you like it when she forced you on your hands and knees, and made you crawl around the room? Did you like it when she teased you, and pressed her high heel into your diapered crotch until the pressure mounted and you finally wet yourself? Of course you did, you weak little baby. The question now is, what does one do with this piece of information? One option, of course, is to sweep the whole matter under the rug, to respect the private lives and lusts of colleagues, and to go about our business; but then again, you were also the one who accused me of sleeping my way to the top, and spread office gossip that kept me from getting that promotion I’d been working for. Now you have my office, and my paycheck, and I had nothing; until now. I’m sure we can use our collective imaginations, and apply this leverage creatively. What’s say we begin with that corner office? It’s now mine. Annual use of the company jet? Mine. Corporate expense account? So very mine. These terms are highly agreeable, don’t you think? Imagine what might happen if you and I weren’t on the same page. If you and I were to have some sort of disagreement; why, I might be so upset that my finger slips and presses the “forward” button in my email, sending video evidence of your indiscretions to everyone in the building, from data entry to the CEO. I know the idea turns you on, but just think of what that would do to your career. Everyone would look to your CV, and they wouldn’t remember the closer on the Abercrombie deal; they’d remember the adult baby sitting in his wee, flailing his arms and calling out for Mommy. People will mention your name and laugh. They’ll make fun of your soppy backside until the only anonymity you can buy yourself will be working at a chain food outlet on the other side of the country. Doesn’t that sound like fun? Well, it certainly does to me, and deep down I know it does to you too, dirty baby boy. Either way it’s a win-win. If I were you I’d give in to my demands. That way you could keep your status and keep being a big baby, and nobody save us would be any the wiser. And, who knows? Maybe I’ll even press my own heel into your diapers when nobody’s looking; that’s the kind of humiliation you like, isn’t it? I eagerly await your reply. See you on Monday. Sincerely, Kaitlyn Walsh PS. We’re going to have so much fun together. We should set up a changing table in the private bathroom for extra shenanigans.
  3. Heyy I live in Greenville SC! Im looking for some cool people to meet up and hang:)
  4. Hey! I'm looking to get to know any dl's of any kind in the Oregon area! Feel free to message me! As of right now I'm just reaching out, maybe I'll get lucky and will meet some cute little dl girl who I can get to know more.
  5. AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have been an avid reader of diaper stories for many years now. I finally decided to take the plunge into the deep end and write my own story. I'll be using the Diaper Dimension as a basis, because it has always been my favorite setting. It has been a dream of mine to become an accomplished author, so critiques are welcome. And this is the very first story that I've published on the Internet. Guess there's a first for everything! DIAPER DIMENSION - PORTAL ACCIDENT By LtlGary PART ONE Quentin woke up in the middle of a grassy field. He brushed his platinum blonde hair out of his eyes and squinted at the orange sun in the sky. Glancing around, he saw his backpack lying on the ground next to him. He gingerly checked it over, not finding any damage. He breathed a sigh of relief as he walked over to a nearby hilltop to gather his bearings. Off to the west, he saw a small town. Guess I better head there and see where I ended up. It was only a few moments ago that Quentin, a theoretical physics student at Miramar College, was using the lab to test his theory on the creation of an Einstein-Rosenberg bridge. A split second after he started the test, there was a power fluctuation and the 5½ foot skinny student vanished and the next thing he knew he was no longer in the college lab anymore. He spent the next few hours exploring the town, taking care not to be noticed. The Amazons, as they called themselves, seemed to have partnered with humanity to build a thriving civilization. Electric vehicles zipped along tree shaded roadways. Tall buildings dwarfed the landscape, overshadowing the Amazon families as they walked and played with their Littles. Everything was larger, even the doors! A large pit formed in his stomach. The sound of women talking grabbed his attention. The women were having an animated discussion as one of them was pushing a stroller containing a baby girl. Except the fact that she looked to be his size! “What’s wrong, Alexa?” One of the women stopped, reached into the stroller, unstrapped her ‘child’ and picked her up. She put her hand under the girl’s dress. “Yup, someone needs a fresh diapee.” She gave the girl a pat on the bottom and then put her back in the stroller. “We’ll get it changed in a jiffy!” The 4 of them walked inside a large bathroom. Quentin could not believe what he just saw. The girl definitely was wearing a diaper – a pink frilly one with red hearts all over it! Was the girl the lady’s daughter? She seemed a little too old to be treated like a baby. What the hell is up with this world? Quentin decided to double check his research. He walked into a nearby library. Walking back to the back corner, he climbed a chair and pulled out his notebooks. He had to stand on top of the chair as all the furniture was built for Amazons. Spreading his work out, he took out a pencil and began to go over the equations. Minutes became hours as he reran the calculations, occasionally making notes in the margins. He failed to notice the Amazonian librarian who was glancing at his work over his shoulder. She was surprised to find a Little dressed as he was. And he wasn’t even diapered! The librarian, Naomi, had already seen a few mistakes. “You forgot the minus sign, dear.” She remarked softly. Quentin nearly jumped out of his chair! “Christ, you scared me!” He squeaked in fright. “Sorry about that. I couldn’t help but notice your work. You would have definitely passed my Portal Mechanics class.” “You teach?” “High school. I had to take some time off for family issues.” She neglected to tell him that she had recently ended a long term relationship. Naomi desperately wanted children, but she needed to find the right man. “I see.” Quentin nervously glanced at her. He wrung his hands. Naomi noted that he looked really cute when he was embarrassed, even if he only was half her height. “C-C-Could I get some pointers?” “Sure thing.” She gently put her hand on his shoulder and they spent the next hour working out his mistakes. She was patient, often suggesting small ideas to get his mind along the right path. However, Quentin had no idea how he was going to get back to his own dimension. Soon the PA system interrupted their collaboration. “The library will be closing in 15 minutes.” “Thank you so much for helping me.” Quentin packed up his notebooks. “My pleasure. The experience helped me dust off my teaching skills.” Naomi walked with him outside. “So where is your Mommy or Daddy?” “Umm….” Quentin didn’t know how to answer her. “You want to know what I think? I think you came from another dimension, but got stuck here and you’re trying to figure out what went wrong.” Quentin’s cheeks burned bright red. “It was the clothes, wasn’t it?” He whispered softly. Naomi nodded. “Any Little that doesn’t have an Amazon Mommy or Daddy sticks out like a sore thumb. Don’t worry, I’m not going to kidnap you, like they do on other islands. But Littles cannot be out and about by themselves. It’s the law.” Quentin looked up at her, tears starting to run down his cheeks. “What am I going to do?” Fear began to form in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly he was plucked off his feet as Naomi held him in a warm embrace. “Don’t you worry, little one. You can stay at my place. I have plenty of room.” She looked him in the eye. “But only if you truly want to. I won’t force you. However, you have nowhere else to go.” As if on cue, Quentin’s stomach rumbled. He blushed and murmured. “Maybe for a few days until I get this situation figured out.” “Fair enough.” She clicked a button on her keys, and a nearby car beeped as the rear passenger door opened. She gently set Quentin into the booster seat and belted him in. The car ride only lasted an hour. He stared out the car window, his eyes deep in thought. He barely noticed the vehicle finally coming to a stop. After she carried him out, he gasped. “Your house is huge!” Naomi’s home sprawled over a six acre lot. Three stories, six bedrooms, three bathrooms, large kitchen, living room and garage. “My parents helped me out. They own multiple factories here, employing thousands of workers. Come, let me get you something to eat.” She carried him inside. Depositing Quentin on the couch, she busied herself with making a few sandwiches, as most of the restaurants were closed. Quentin managed to find the television remote and inadvertently found the cartoons. “Dinner’s ready!” Naomi called a few moments later. Quentin wandered into the kitchen, and paused when he saw the high chair. Naomi was about to speak but he held up his hand to speak. “I got to thinking on the ride here, that there is little to no chance of me returning home. Most likely I end up in another dimension where I don’t have access to Portal technology. So I might as well accept the fact that I’m stuck here. And for the record, I don’t mind being treated like a toddler. Hell, I didn’t stop wetting the bed until I was 12. Losing my parents didn’t help either. And now this wonderful world gives me a chance to start over.” He took a breath. “I hope I’m not inconveniencing you by staying here.” “As a matter of fact, I’m glad you came. Otherwise I would have donated it to the nearest charity. My boyfriend wasn’t happy that I bought all of it. He wanted to spend a few years as just the two of us but I was desperate to start a family. We parted amicably, but I always wanted a family. And I would be happy if you joined mine.” “I would be honored, Mommy.” Quentin raised his hands. Naomi pulled off his polo shirt. She then picked him up and took off his shoes and socks. His pants followed shortly after. Wearing only his double seat Power Ranger briefs, the young man was deposited into the high chair and the tray clicked in place. Sandwiches followed, and Quentin devoured them all. Naomi followed up with a sippy cup full of milk, of which he drained dry. He was sure to smear peanut butter and jelly all over his face. Naomi cleaned his hands and face with a disposable wipe and then she carried him into the bedroom. “I love the designs on your undies. If you want, I can have the designs uploaded into the 3D printer when the diaper supply runs low.” “I’d love that! Power Rangers was my favorite TV show growing up.” She laid him on the changing table and removed his briefs. Holding his legs in the air, she used a wet wipe to clean his bottom, as he never did a good job of wiping himself after using the toilet. A splash of baby powder followed, and soon a thick disposable diaper was placed under Quentin’s bottom. The tapes were securely fastened, and he was laid in a crib. He initially wanted to tell her that he wasn’t tired but a yawn escaped his lips. She handed him a white baby blanket and in a few moments he was asleep.
  6. Yes I am reposting due to enough people saying they missed the story. I have no idea why the story was removed a third time nor my older stories (which I checked had all their content) were removed as well. This will be the last time I repost this. I plan on finishing this story regardless if anyone reads the story or not. Note I have typed this entire story on my phone. And this has a different first and third person perspective that will switch. To make it easy there will be a set of "*" to signify the switch. Enjoy part 1 Cheryl was a hard working business Amazonian woman who had felt like something was missing from her life. She lived in a nice neighborhood, a great job and could get whatever she wanted, yet that one thing she seemed to lack, ached at her for years now. She was visiting her neighbors and good friends, Alecia and Mary, who always were there for her. Even their little, James. Even if he wasn't able to properly respond anymore after he had regressed she still found him good at making her feel a lot better. "Cheryl. Cheryl!" Alecia, attempted to snap her friend out of a trance. She seems to be in them more and more often nowadays. Cheryl sighed. "Sorry. I didn't realize I zoned out there." "I can tell. I've called your name at least a hundred times." Alecia had exaggerated jokingly to trying to get her friends mind off of whatever was bothering her. She changed her tone when she noticed that Cheryl wasn't even phased to try to respond to the comment. "Hey you look tired. Why don't you go home and try to get some rest. That work you do seems like it's catching up to you." She was referring to the number crunching accounting job she did almost every day of the week. Cheryl picked up on the hint that she needed to try to figure out what it was that had been bothering her. She yawned as she stood up and stretched her arms in the air. "Yeah I guess you are right." She smiled at James, then looked over at the clock hanging on the wall. "I think its just about nap time for James and I." Cheryl and Alecia chuckled when James turned around at the sound of his name being said. He was happily playing with the toys set out to keep him occupied while the adults talked to eachother. Cheryl picked up James and handed him to Alecia but not before she tickled his tummy causing him to giggle uncontrollably. "Alright. Well I'll see you later then. And tell Mary I said hi." Soon enough was on her way out the door when she saw two amazonian young boys sprinting full force down the street. "That was odd." She said. Just as she was heading back to her own house, the same way the two boys were headed, she saw them running towards her own house and a little attempting to get away. "Hey! Knock it off you two!" Cheryl picked up her own pace, now seeing a car going past, it was Mary's. She was oblivious to the scene. The little that was being chased, made a quick turn while keeping an eye on the pursuers without noticing Mary's car until it was too late. "Look out!" Cheryl cried just as the little had hit the drivers door head first. She sprinted over to the scene, and Mary now saw what was going on and stopped dead in her tracks. She saw the look of guilt on the two young amazonian boys, who now froze like a statue, unable to comprehend what just happened. Cheryl took opportunity to snatched the two delinquents to make sure they didn't get away. Mary, still was afraid she had killed the little. "Oh my god. What have I done?" She began to panic as she picked up the all but limp little in her arms. A slight mumble came from the little, much to Mary's relief. Feeling confident enough that the little wouldn't run away, she set him down in the back of her car with the door wide open. Cheryl had called 911 and the authorities showed up quickly to take away the two delinquent amazonian children. When the ambulance arrived to look at the little that was supposed to be in the backseat, was now completely gone from view. After everything was settled down, Mary had calmed down enough, everyone went back to business. Cheryl was still puzzled about where the little had went. Just as she was about to head inside is when she noticed a certain smell around her door. "It can't be." She whispered quietly to herself when she looked to the right and saw the little from earlier, unconscious in her bushes. Cheryl managed to get the little out from behind her pushes, and she checked him for a pulse. "My god. What happened to you." She whispered as she noticed that it was a boy, with his shirt torn and holes in it. His face and arms were cut up a bit and a portion of his forehead was bruised. He had pants and underwear on as well. The pants were full of holes and cuts too like his shirt, but both his underwear and pants were soaked in urine. Once she found his pulse still strong, she picked the limp little up and held him with his head over her shoulder, a hand on his bottom and another on his back. Something clicked. She didn't have that feeling she had before. Something about this helpless little boy made her want to take care of him and keep this from happening again. As she went back to Alecia and Mary's house, she couldn't help herself from smiling at the feeling. Cheryl knocked at her neighbors door and Alecia opened the door. "Oh. My. God. What happened to him?" Was all she could say as she let her closest friend into the door. James had not yet been put down over all the commotion and attempting to help calm down his mommy, Mary, who now was in a state of shock sitting on the couch in the family room by hugging her. "Alecia, I have a favor to ask." Cheryl said in the most seriously tone she could. "What do you need?" She replied without hesitation. ***************** An hour had gone by and no sound was to be heard in the room. It was still dead quiet until suddenly I let out a long whimper. I was happily warm and almost smiled until I realized how much pain I was in suddenly. All of it caught up with me at once. "Ahhhh!" I screamed and shot up straight from my spot. I suddenly realize what has happened now. Everything caught up to me in a flash. Except one thing. I had a diaper on now and in a crib. Before I could react to that the door opened slowly. The room was dark and when the light from the outside shone in on me, I froze like a deer in headlights. I saw that it was daylight still from how the light was coming from the doorway and I saw her. She came slowly towards me and I couldn't handle this. 'No! I was adopted wasn't I?! Oh no! What's going to happen to me now!' I thought to myself until the amazonian drew close. My heart began racing when I heard the water start to run in the background. It snapped me out of the trance and I went to go and move away but it was too late. I was already in the arms of my captor. Suddenly I felt an ache flow across my body from the cuts and bruises all over me. "Let me go!" I whined at her. The Amazonian just seemed not to care, only taking a seat in a rocking chair. Struggling didn't seem to do much except cause me more pain, especially when I had accidentally pressed the bruise on my head against her. I screamed on the top of my lungs and began to cry my heart out. Suddenly I heard a faint humming sound that slowly grew louder the more I calmed down. I focused on it. It wasn't just some random humming, it was a nursery tune used to calm down children. I finally stopped crying and now was beet red from the neck up and I gave into the hypnotic feeling I had and rested a few minutes. "Are you okay now?" I heard break the almost endless moment. Her voice was full of patience and honesty with that question, but I was too unsure about my situation but I knew it was better to answer this one. I nodded a bit in response. "Can you tell me your name please? My name is Cheryl." Her voice was soothing and caring. I offered up no response to that question, fearing it was a trick. She patiently waited for an answer, not trying to throw me into a new panic mode so quickly. "I need you to drink something okay? My friends little doesn't use sippy cups so I need you to drink out of a bottle. Alright?" 'What game is she playing? Why is she like this to me and not just forcing it on me?' I had thought to myself as I felt the nipple of a bottle being pushed against my lips. A squirt of juice touched my tongue and I gave in so quickly. I had the side of my head resting on her chest and I was pressed against her torso gently. I drank as much as I could from the bottle. The door was still opened and Mary came to the doorway quietly. Cheryl looked at her before anything could be said and it was clear that Cheryl didn't want the moment to be interrupted. Once the little boy was almost done with the bottle, she removed it gently from his mouth. She stood up from the chair, Cheryl began her trip to the bathroom. Alecia heard all of the commotion from over the monitor along with the rest of the party before Cheryl went into the room and was already on the phone again with 911. Meanwhile, Mary went to work at trying teaching Cheryl how to wash any little in the tub. But the cooperation of the little was necessary but it didn't matter. The police showed up just as the ambulance did as they were supposed to, and escorted me out of the building. **************** "Thanks for finding him. I'm going on a limb here and saying that he has been adopted now by one of you." The officer said to the three adults present while the little was off being tended to by the paramedics. Cheryl nodded in agreement. "Yes in fact he now is. I'm his new mother." She said proudly. "Well go be with him. And congrats on the find. He seems to be the type, if you can get him to open up, he will be adorable and happy. But right now he seems scared and confused. You should come with us to the hospital to finalize adoption and then to the station to get the little guy's fingerprints to check the system to see who he is. Along with the little's previous belongings to hold for evidence." She said. "Alright. Alecia and Mary, do you mind picking me up since you have a car seat already. He does seem about James's size." Cheryl asked almost begging. "Yeah. We can even help pick out a car seat and everything you'll need for tonight." Mary chimed in. With that Cheryl hugged her friends and thanked them before rushing to the ambulance to be with her little on the ride after grabbing the clothes the little was found in. ***************** "Come on here little guy. We just want to make sure your head is ok. Okay?" One of the paramedics said. I shook my head at them as I saw Cheryl enter the back of the vehicle. I was wrapped in a blanket the paramedics gave me. Just had shaggy brown hair that was long enough to come just to my eyes. Seeing how I probably hadn't gotten properly bathed or anything of the sort since it rained last, I wasn't too pleasant to try to smell. Most of the dirt on my face and body was cleaned off while I was unconscious. I though allowed the paramedics look me over and even give me the IV to keep me hydrated, I didn't want to them to go near me since they touched my forehead. I kept my gaze on Cheryl, thinking she had already declared me her baby, so I assumed she was going to scold or grab me herself and then spank me but she didn't. While my focus was on her, the paramedic snatched me up and scooped me into their lap, lying me on my back. I squirmed and tried to fend off the paramedic's arm from touching my head but suddenly he had my arms pinned as he reached for my head. "Relax there buddy. I'm just looking now." He said as he held my chin and I began to start to breathe heavily in frustration. Upon brushing a finger over the mark on my head, I screamed in pain and struggled against them and began kicking my legs even in protest. Unluckily for me Cheryl saw this and piped up as soon as the paramedic let go of head and arms although kept me pinned to his lap. "You better behave young man. If you weren't injured, I'd spank you right here and now. I've been patient with you so far and I expect you to do as your told." She said as if a scolding mother. I settled down, too afraid to fight her knowing she would if I did. "Thank you ma'am." The paramedic thanked as we came to a stop and I was set down on my back in the stretcher. The blanket was pulled over me and we all exited the ambulance and headed inside. None of us were in a rush so we were arrested to take our time. But before we could get to the room, the motions of stop and going, turning and changing directions in the halls put me to sleep. ***************** Cheryl followed her little around each corridor of the hospital until they reached an X-ray room to make sure nothing was damaged broken. "Please Miss Rhien stay out here. We are going to take a few X-rays to make sure. It will only take a few minutes." The nurse said as they all disappeared behind a door. Ten minutes later the door opens up and out came everyone that entered. "Alright Miss Rhien follow us to the room please. One of the nurses said. "Did he behave in the room?" Cheryl asked as she began to follow. "He stayed asleep almost the entire time. He woke up slightly as we were finishing but. He settled down quickly again once we moved him back here to the hospital bed." The nurse replied. "What happened to him if you don't mind me asking Ma'am." She asked Cheryl who only knew of the bruise on the little's forehead. "The bruise was from running into a car. The scratches I don't know." She replied to nurse just as they entered the room. "The doctor will be here shortly. The nurses left the room and Cheryl and her little were alone. She came over to the side of the bed and began to brush his hair. Just as she did, there was a knock at the door and she looked to see who was about to enter. It was the doctor. "Hello I am Doctor Faulner. I am assuming you are Miss Rhien if I am not mistaken?" The female doctor said. "I am indeed. So what is the news? Is he alright?" Cheryl asked almost as soon as she could. Afraid of her little would be very injured as the Amazonian doctor looked over the asleep boy. "Aside from this bruise, and in need of something food wise, he is fine. Don't worry. This cutie is okay to go home. The cuts just appear to be from bushes and such which will clear up before tomorrow morning." Dr. Faulner explained much to Cheryl's relief with a sigh. "However, the bruise will be there for a few days, but luckily doesn't seem to have been anything worse than that. And I'd like him to eat something before he leaves here so he doesn't starve. The best to give him now would not to be anything solid. I'll have someone bring some food for the two of you up here, seeing how it is 4:00 Pm and around dinner. You'll want full attention when out shopping for your new tyke." The Amazonian hinted. "I just need you to sign here Miss Rhien that you adopted him officially." "Sure thing!" Cheryl exclaimed excited to finalize the paperwork for her little, who she still had known nothing about. 'I'll have to wait another day or two to tell me his name. Or I just might make up a name for him.' Cheryl thought to herself as she signed and dated the paperwork with her back turned to the bed. ***************** I began to stir suddenly feeling myself become wet. But only in one spot. I realized what I was doing and forced myself to become aware and fully awake to only know my situation was worse than I could imagine. I was wetting myself. 'I need to get out of here before they notice.' I thought to myself before realizing I was hooked up to the IV still. I started to move and both of the Amazonian didn't hear me crinkle my diaper, but when I went to the far side of the bed and turned around, the IV attached to my arm made a rattling sound and it got the attention of both women. I gulped as I stared at them both like a deer in headlights. "Oh no you dont." Cheryl said as she came over to pick me up. It was then I realized I was done for. She took me to the other side of the bed to lay me across her lap. "I warned you to behave." Cheryl had me pinned and began to spank me. The diaper I was wearing did offer some protection from the blows, but I don't think I could have handled the situation regardless. "St-AH-p! No pleasE." I begged. But it continued. "I've been doing all of this for you! I'm making sure you are safe and nursing you back to health and this is the thanks? I've never...." I heard Cheryl speaking to me but as I continued to cry, the more her voice seemed to fade. All I could sense was hearing myself crying and feeling my bottom being spanked sending the shock and unfamiliar sensation throughout my body. The moment seemed to last an eternity until there was a knock at the door only minutes after starting the ordeal. My pride had been severely damaged, my face covered in snot and tears. My neck up was a ruby red while my cheeks were rose. The IV was removed from my arm, and replaced by a bandaid when the scene was over and I was being held now upright with my face being pressed into the boosum of my captor. I felt ashamed of myself for allowing that to happen. I felt a hand barely brush against my back and I flinched and tensed up my muscles as I squealed in fear that it was going to hit me. I had no sense of the world around me. My head and neck were cradled with one hand as it was forcefully pressed into the Amazonian's shirt so I had no hope of escaping to begin with, but I tried pushing myself off of her anyway. In the process of feeling my head being pressed, I had turned my head to make sure I could breathe and as I did I noticed a soft kiss on the top of my head. I didn't flinch this time. I felt goosebumps go across my body when a blanket touched my cold back. I stopped struggling. I slouched my back and tried to cling onto Cheryl as tightly as I could as I continued to cry. I had given in to my captor once again. ***************** "Oh it's alright there little guy. Just relax. Just relax. Mommy is right here." Cheryl Cooed at the now crying little. She didn't expect to have to spank her little as soon as she made everything final. Just then a nurse walked in with a onesie and a bowl. "Perfect timing." Said Dr. Faulner to the nurse. "I'll take that, thank you. Take the paperwork to the front desk." She said and opened a cabinet. The cabinet was full of plain diapers that were thick. And then others that were thicker. All just plain no print at all, but Dr. Faulner picks out a pair of the thicker ones. "Miss Rhien, would you mind allowing me to get him dressed and changed?" She had asked Cheryl. Cheryl thought it would be a perfect time to call Mary to pick her and her... she still didn't know his name, but oh well. That wasn't as important at the moment. "Sure. I need to get a ride back home anyhow. Now you behave young man. Or else." Cheryl instructed her still unnamed little as she left the room. A quick phone call later and The doctor walked out of the room. "I'll let you feed him. I got him changed into a onesie that you get to keep. Just check at the front desk before you go." Dr. Faulner said as Cheryl was walking into the room. ***************** When Cheryl had originally left the room I found myself with the doctor still. She had waited until the door was closed. "Now, now. It's alright. I'm just going to change you and get you dressed into something. Does that sound better?" Dr. Faulner cooed at me while I was still sniffling. 'What does she mean by dress me?' I was sitting up in the bed and as I was about to ask is when I felt my feet being pulled up and down to the middle of the bed and I slid down the bed further. I curled my legs to my chest and was facing up into the lights, now wanting to just get away from here. I squinted, blinded by the rows of florescent lights on the ceiling. I felt a hand gently pull at my legs to remove them from my chest and I willingly allowed the hand to. I dropped my head to lay it across the bed and the lights weren't as bright as before. I could see the room again and a set of changing supplies. A crackle of the tapes being removed from the face of the diaper caused me to jump at the unfamiliar sound and curl my legs up part way, only to realize what the sound was. I lowered my legs down and the doctor finished removing the tapes. I knew I was going to be stuck like this forever now.
  7. Miss Goodridge Patrick was dreading getting home. School had been horrendous, he’d had a fight with his best friend, he’d hit a teacher who stepped in to break it up and he swore at the principal. The anger that had built up inside him had found a very destructive way out and he was now regretting all that had transpired. He’d always been a bit of a bully even when he was in the nursery many years earlier, and his bullish attitude had carried over in each and every grade so far. He liked the fear he saw in some kid’s eye and his contempt for any authority meant he wasn’t scared of any of the punishments the school offered. However, he realised he might have gone too far this time, hitting a teacher and swearing was grounds for removal from school completely, and that would have been a step too far even for him. The day had been particularly bad. Unfortunately, for Patrick things were about to get a lot worse. * Needless to say his mother knew all about his day’s exploits and was not the happiest of people as her twelve year-old terror arrived home off the school bus. The phone call earlier that afternoon from the principal had spelt out just exactly what had happened and Patrick’s mother was only pleased that the voice at the other end of the phone had not ended the conversation with his expulsion from class completely. However, the principal had made it quite clear that she would not put up with such appalling behaviour or disruption to the running of the school. He’d been suspended for the rest of the week and would only be allowed back after an apology to the teacher Patrick had hit and he had a complete turnaround in his attitude. His mother was at her wit’s end but she had come up with a plan she’d read about online - a way of dealing with unruly kids. * Patrick surreptitiously opened the front door hoping against hope that he could make it up to his room before his mother caught him. “GET IN HERE RIGHT NOW.” His hope died as his mother’s angry voice echoed throughout the house. He shivered. Normally Patrick was used to getting into trouble and his mother’s punishment had always been sending him to his room, grounding him, withdrawing the use of the video games and TV privileges. This time he suspected, as they had all already been invoked, those options were no longer a possibility. He swallowed hard and walked into the living room where his mother was sitting with another lady he’d never seen before. “I received a call from your principal this afternoon.” She left that tiny piece of information to sink in so he knew there was no point in trying to deny what had happened. “What have you got to say for yourself?” Patrick’s mind was working overtime. Perhaps he should have developed a strategy before he arrived home but only now, as his fate loomed did he try to think of something, an excuse, a defence, something… but his twelve year-old brain was having none of it and he simply gulped back the fear saliva that had appeared in his mouth. “Er, er, er, it wasn’t my fault…” “You hit a teacher and another pupil…” “Yer, but that was Tommy,” he interrupted with an air of contempt, “he’s always such an annoying little bast…” Now it was his mother’s turn to interrupt. “You swore at the principal.” He smirked at the memory. “You appear to think this is some kind of joke. Do you think it makes you a big man in front of the rest of the class?” She was ridiculing and angry with him at the same time. “What do you think happens to school boys,” she emphasised that he was still just a boy, “who think it’s clever to fight and backchat adults?” Patrick wanted to come up with some kind of clever response but in truth, he’d never seen his mother so angry and thought that a ‘clever’ comment might not go down well. He shuffled his feet as he stood looking crestfallen in the living room doorway. He hoped that the adopted look of dejection would garner some sympathy as he put on his most sorrowful expression. “Well let me tell you,” his mother was still talking, “there are consequences.” She wasn’t fooled by her son’s obvious fake look of contrition and had the final thrust to her angry speech. “This is Miss Goodridge. From today until there’s been a change in your attitude, she will be in charge of you every minute of the day… from the moment you get up to the moment you go to sleep. From what you eat to what you wear. Indeed, there will not be one aspect of your life that is not sanctioned by Miss Goodridge and, she has my blessing to impose any punishment she sees fit to make sure you obey her every command.” For the first time he looked over at the lady sitting next to his mother and took her in. She looked slightly younger than his mother, she had dark hair, beautifully made up eyes and, what seemed even more appealing to Patrick, a rather full breast… he wasn’t sure if this was supposed to be a punishment or something else but he decided he wouldn’t mind doing whatever she wanted him to. The woman didn’t exactly smile or frown but there was a look that made Patrick feel very insecure as she acknowledged his presence. She was absolutely stunning but there was definitely something about her that wasn’t, as far as he was concerned, quite right, although he just couldn’t put his finger on it. His mother was still speaking. “You will go with Miss Goodridge now and I will see you again when she thinks your entire demeanour is suitable for…” “But mum, I have things planned for this week. Er, I’m in the school diving team so I…” This time Miss Goodridge interrupted. “Young boys do not interrupt when an adult is speaking.” “But, er, I….” “Do you not have ears? I just said young boys do not interrupt when adults are speaking. Are you stupid or something?” Patrick was shocked that he was being spoken to that way by this stranger, this guest in his home, this…” He was a bit too slow in his answer so Miss Goodridge jumped in. “I asked if you were stupid.” “Erm, er, no,” Anger was growing in his chest as he felt a hot furious shiver run through his body and was about to burst out in a tirade against being called stupid. She looked across at his mother. “Is he stupid?” She was laying on the insult pretty thickly. “Does this child not understand simple English?” His mother just shook her head and refused to come to his defence. “Well, I suppose if he doesn’t understand then that explains a great deal and of course I’ll have to start with the basics.” She nodded towards his mother who was standing there with a shrug and a smile as Miss Goodridge stood up, held out her hand and commanded Patrick to come with her. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t know who you are but you…” Miss Goodridge was fast and grabbed hold of her young charge. Her grip was terrifyingly strong as he tried to pull away but she had him over her knee in a second and was spanking his upturned bottom; his thin school trousers and underpants offering scant protection from her fearless palm. He was stunned and tried to fight his way from her formidable grasp but she held him tightly in a position he found uncomfortable, embarrassing and painful. He wasn’t sure why the hold she had him in meant he couldn’t fight back but no matter how he wriggled and kicked out, he stayed exactly where she positioned him. His bottom received several smacks from a hand that was deceivingly strong and firm. After the initial assault she stopped and rummaged in her large bag, which had been sitting on the floor behind her legs and from which she produced a small wooden hairbrush. This replaced her palm as the instrument of punishment as she continued to spank his wriggling bottom for several more minutes. He was desperate not to show any weakness but his twelve year-old bottom was receiving some serious punishment and try as he might to refrain, tears welled up and streamed down his face as he bawled his apologies and begged for the spanking to stop. It didn’t straight away and his screams and tears continued until all fight had left his body and he lay there unable to stop the continual barrage from the brush. Eventually she stopped and stood her sore and snuffling charge up in front of her. “Now, you will do exactly as you are told.” She spoke sternly and obviously in command of the situation. “Any back chat, attitude or disobedience will result in your bare bottom getting a thrashing… and I can assure you it will not be the gentle taps you have just received.” Patrick was desperately trying to rub the heat from his bottom and looking at the ground as she spoke he thought “Gentle taps?” she had to be joking. She lifted his eyes to meet hers making sure he understood who was in command. “Do I make myself perfectly clear?” He was still rubbing his bottom but had no alternative but to look at this strong and wilful woman and take heed of what she said. He nodded. “Answer me when I ask you a question.” This was no polite request, this was a command… Patrick was still desperately trying to hold back his tears but nonetheless they were there and he was finding it difficult to get his thoughts and words into some kind of order. He simply wasn’t used to this kind of hostile stance from a grown up. “Yes.” He whispered between gulps of air. “You know my name, but, if you’ve forgotten then you call me Ma’am but I need to know you understand what I’ve just told you.” She reached for the hairbrush again and his face creased in trepidation that he might be about to receive another ferocious spanking. “Yes, er, Ma’am…” For the life of him he couldn’t remember her name it had escaped his brain completely. “I understand.” He was scared. He’d never been scared before and found he didn’t like the way it felt. He was made to feel like a vulnerable little kid who had no thoughts and no opinions and was just a… He didn’t want to think any more as she held his hand and guided him out to her car. This was an opportunity to run off. He wanted to fight, to protest, to show her he had a mind of his own and wasn’t the type of lad to be pushed around by a woman. However, his throbbing bottom and tearful face and the grip around his arm as he was marched to the car were evidence that this woman was completely in charge and he’d better not mess her around. The consequences for doing so were… incredibly painful. He didn’t even say goodbye to his mother who, although sad to see her son go, knew that he needed some discipline in his life, a discipline which she had been unable to give. ## Patrick was as good as gold during the journey to where ever he was going, mainly due to the fact that he just couldn’t sit comfortably in the car seat as his bottom throbbed so much. The threat of a much more severe punishment had an effect and he remained tight-lipped, desperately attempting, but unsuccessfully, to hold back tears as Miss Goodridge drove him he knew not where. This was how Miss Goodridge operated; her methods were undisclosed though effective. Her customers were only told their child would be away for “however long it took”. Some children reacted quickly to her ‘teaching’ methods, whilst others took more intense training over a longer period. However, the results were always the same, total compliance, total subservience and total control for their parents. Those who went through the ‘Goodridge System’ at the beginning were boys and girls who were growing up knowing their place and how to please others. She never discussed her methods just offered results and that was all any parent was paying for but she did offer the proviso that should she fail then all fees would be refunded without question. She had never yet had to return a fee. However, once the child was restored to its parents there was a list of measures and practices she gave them to continue her good work, thus avoiding any relapse. # Any time the child even thought about becoming confrontational or argumentative, planted in their mind was the command for their bladder and/or bowel to open and deposit whatever was in them into their pants. To prevent public messes, she also instilled in them a love and reliance on thick padding with suitable vinyl protection. So, when they returned to their parents, cowed and submissive, they also wore the defence that would keep them that way. It was strange that nearly every parent loved having their compliant child back in diapers. The super soft thick fabric, together with the soft rustle or crinkle of the chosen pvc panties making them more loving and dependent and that was a renewed and wonderful feeling those parents appreciated. # Miss Goodridge had been recommended to Patrick’s mummy. Well, perhaps not recommended as much as researched by her to try and find an answer to his growing unruliness. Miss Goodridge’s online references were brilliant and contained glowing reports from parents who had sent their troubled offspring to her and received back much improved children. Those reviews had convinced her that perhaps this mysterious lady might be just the answer to her rapidly growing problem. # Sixteen days after Patrick had left with Miss Goodridge he returned a new and improved boy. Perhaps a tiny bit clingy but now well behaved as well as thickly diapered. His manners had greatly improved and, like all her ‘students’, was full of praise for the lady who’d changed his life and made him understand his place in it. As per Miss Goodridge’s instructions, he was to have specific bedtimes, naps and food. TV and video games should be heavily monitored, or better still, banned altogether. Regular hugging and cuddling sessions should always accompany diaper changes as should positive baby talk and applications of baby oil and powder. That sense of touch around the diaper area, together with words of infant style encouragement, would be letting the child know he or she is loved but that comfort is reliant on mummy and daddy. Pacifiers and baby bottles should be used if needed to calm the child should it become agitated in any way. However, for Patrick the main thing was positive reinforcement that he was a sweet little boy who needed his mommy. Miss Goodridge also prescribed a certain dress-code which entailed him wearing diapers and rubber panties, and only those items, as often as possible. Likewise, all parents were told that their little one should never be asked (or allowed) to make a decision, this, in the ‘Goodridge System’, would only add confusion to the child’s mind. How a child was dressed and fed was of course up to the parent but Miss Goodridge advised that colourful, juvenile ensembles worked best for keeping a child engaged and in check, whilst bland food and drink would not fill the child with ‘E’ numbers and sugar. The child was also micro-chipped so that he or she could always be located if they wandered off. Any naughtiness, which she confidently predicted would hardly ever happen, but if it did, needed quick action - a thorough spanking and corner time was advised. They should wear thick, thick diapers around the house as well as for sleeping in and even when out and about his protection should be equally evident. Regular and obvious diaper checks in public were recommended. Patrick needed to know his place and that was as mommy’s sweet obedient little boy. # There was very little left of twelve year-old Patrick’s previous ways. The naughty boy was now more a pliant and happy cherubic two year-old dashing around the house in his crinkly protection. The mischievous pre-teen had been transformed into the sweetest and most loving twelve year-old who didn’t like to stray too far away from his mommy. At times of stress, like going outside, Patrick held on to her hand for dear life. The thick padding offering him the security needed should anything upset him. However, mommy was there to make sure her little boy was safe, secure and that nothing would harm or make him wet or mess his generous fluffy diaper. Yet, from the moment he’d returned home, and even without any family discord, he filled his protection with remarkable regularity. Not that mommy minded, it was like having her sweet little baby back and she was determined to make the most of the time they spent together. He loved his mummy and told her every day, she replied, to his obvious pleasure, that there was nobody cuter than her wonderful little boy... her Baby Patrick. ### p.s. Miss Goodridge was a mysterious woman. Her background was unknown to her present customers and few asked questions because her results were so defining. Also, her no-nonsense exterior meant just that - she wasn’t in the business to make friends; she was there to do a job, which she found demanding but ultimately rewarding. The reason her background was never spoken of was simple, from a very early age she had been brought up to administer pain to earn a living. The Far Eastern ‘family’ to whom she was indentured knew their customers well. A small young girl making demands and ruling her older clientele with a rod of iron (or anything else that came to hand) was something to which a certain affluent elite loved to subject themselves. Sing Lo was one of the few children in that ‘family’ who actually enjoyed her work. The implements of her trade, applied in the precise way, produced some remarkable results that this young girl found inspiring. She loved the suffering, inflicting ‘correction’, applying new techniques, but most of all she loved the power to control people. Now she’s older, and away from the influences of the ‘family’ she found, together with a new country, that her abilities were needed for a whole new, unruly younger generation desperately in need of discipline. So, she adapted her techniques, adopted a superior no-nonsense ‘nanny with attitude’ persona and found that it didn’t take long before the country’s ignorant, self-obsessed, rude and totally wayward youth were being submitted to receive her years of training. Her initial advertisement had simply said. Does your child have an attitude you dislike? Does your child never listen to a word you say? Do you worry about where all this may lead? Worry no more. I have the solution to getting your sweet innocent baby back. Her phone number and ‘rates to be discussed’ were the only other wording but in the first few months she was inundated with requests for help from desperate parents with problem kids. From that very small beginning her reputation and client list grew. Word of mouth was excellent, then the internet poured praise upon her results and now, she is permanently engaged in the betterment of youthful attitudes everywhere. # The ‘Goodridge System’ hasn’t gone un-noticed and is at the top of one particular government department list as a possible deterrent, or the way future punishment for young offenders (and would be offenders) might go. Diapers, binkies and plastic pants would seem a small price to pay to keep the insolence of the young in check and an unruly, defiant youth in a state of permanent dependence. Plans and laws are already being discussed in various secret committees to alter, or even strike down, certain rights (Human and Civil) that might interfere with this process. The discussions continue but the outcome is... inevitable. #######
  8. Easygoing attractive Dad seeks dirty diapered boy in need of cleaning and changing.
  9. Hi guys! I'm new here as of today, iv always been into wetting and sometimes messing myself in private and have always loved watching girls wet and mess either in their panties or diapers; honestly it doesn't make a different to me. iv always kept this part of my life hidden because im embarrassed of the possible repercussions; however im now ready to branch out and meet other people in the community. Basically I am a 21 year old guy living in the US who is a junior in college that secretly hopes to see women wet themselves, but is always disappointed, so I just go home and sneak into one of my hidden diapers.
  10. Hi everyone! This story is a repost, from an old story I wrote back in 2013. It's been about 5 years since I initially began writing this story, and with the recent purge of this forum section, I figured I'd not just post this story, but I'd rewrite it entirely! Or, essentially, I took the entire story, and redrafted it to make it more reader friendly (as well as fix a few plot holes and update some of the subjects, i.e, diapers, phone conversations). Anyways, I hope you like it. I'll try to speed through posting these, since I have to get these posted before I go back to my university. --- CHAPTER 1: The Backwoods Here in Maisefeld, USA, the town is generally flat, with the exception of a rolling hills, and the backwoods that exist on the outskirt of town. I'd consider our town pretty small; with about 20,000 people. You see, I live in a small, one story house with my Mom and we just happen to live near the suburban outskirts, with a very large "backyard", consisting of a nearly never ending backwood. Ever since I was a kid, I was told "Alex, never go into the Maisefeld Backwoods by yourself!". I've been told stories of children who go missing, adults who have gotten lost for days, and pets who run away, never to return. But I shouldn't have to fear that anymore, right? I mean, I'm 14 for lord's sake. Well, to be fair, maybe I’m grown up enough to go into the woods. I mean, I haven't even advanced from diapers yet... After my Dad passed away when I was 4, my potty training never really worked out, and eventually, I never grew out of diapers. The financial burden was rough at times growing up, but eventually Mom figured a way to bill them through our healthcare provider, I think. She stopped diapering me when I was 9, and now, 5 years later, I’m still in diapers. It's nice, because in public, I never have to ask for the bathroom. It’s sounds luxurious, but in reality, it’s a bit tricky to deal with. However, that’s not what this story’s about… I got home from school today, on a Wednesday, and had to use my diaper, so I could poop. As usual, I threw my backpack and jacket on the floor, took off my pants, and gazed out the back door, to relax and concentrate on messing. The woods were so dark from the pine trees filtering the light of the day. My eyes gazed across the forest, taking note of every stick and branch that had fallen into it’s new place on the forest floor, and judging the distance from our backyard fence, across the dirt pathway, into the layers of dead leaves and sticks. While I slowly used my diaper, I noticed something a bit out of place more than usual. I squinted my eyes and recognized a red plastic ball. It was just a few feet into the woods, as if a child had thrown it over the fence. Thinking it was one of the neighbors, I slid open the glass door, and walked out to my backyard fence. I stood behind the gate, and set my head on the fence; the brick walls of suburbia lined the dirt path for hundreds of yards, until it curved with the housing tract. Noticing no one was around, I figured the ball must have been blown into the forest by the wind. The ball was a stark red color, and seemed the be the only vibrant object in the woods. It was just a ball, so I went back inside, and shut the door. My diaper needed changing and was starting to stink, so I went into the bathroom to take care of it. After a few hours of homework and another diaper change, my Mom came home a bit late, muttered a ‘hello’ to me, then went to bed. As a single parent, she’s been struggling to balance a hectic work life and a personal life at home. Recently, she’s been dating again, and is trying to move us into a nicer home. It’s made me a bit of a latchkey kid, since she’s always out of the house, but as long as she’s happy, I am too. At around 8pm, I walked back to the backdoor, and stared out the window, to see if the red ball was still there. I walked back outside and found that it had disappeared, perhaps lost into the woods, or picked up by someone walking the back alley behind the housing tract. Behind my fence is a small dirt alley that separates the backyards of the homes on our cul-de-sac from the surrounding wilderness. I've always assumed a pipeline is underneath the dirt alley. I looked in my neighbor's backyard and found nothing, and the house to the left of mine is vacant, with no red ball to be found. Quickly, the cold air got the best of me, and I went back inside. An hour later, I turned off the TV, then shut off all the lights; closing up for the night. As I turned out the living room light, I caught a shadow move near the window in the corner of my eye. I turned quickly and stopped for a second. I stayed still for about a minute, looking for some movement to see if I was seeing anything. After a minute of waiting, I finally turned around and went to bed. Regardless, it gave me chills. —- And now Chapter 2: --- CHAPTER 2: An Abduction The crack of dawn woke me up, and brought me back to reality. I threw off the covers, and sat up to the familiar sight of a soaked diaper. It crinkled noticeably as I threw off the blanket and walked to the shower to get ready. Less than an hour later, I was on my walk to school. It’s nice because school is just a few blocks away in a flat town, so I would walk to school everyday; Mom used to drive me to school until I started high school. The air was cold, and seemed to burn my face as I walked against the wind. Another 10 minutes later, I was at school, and headed to class as the bell rang. My morning classes were always the worst. During lunch, I met with my closest friend, Cameron. We don’t share a clique or anything, but we hang out a lot outside of class. What’s special about Cameron is his passion for diapers, which is a something we share. Though, Cameron doesn’t wear diapers everyday like I do. “Hi, Cameron,” I said, walking up to him. He greeted me casually, and we exchanged a fair amount of banter, before he said, “Did you hear about what happened last night?”. I shook my head, confused. “Well, apparently Joey was kidnapped. You know, that really short freshman we always see slouched down by the 100s bungalows?” Cameron continued. I wasn’t too familiar with who he was referring, but knowing some kid in our small school was abducted, was… unsettling, to say the least. “Joey? The short, dirty blonde haired kid?” I recalled. “Yeah, I guess so. He lived on the other side of town by the woods. I’d be careful.” Cameron said, taking off his backpack, and slumping down against the chemistry building’s wall, opposite me. Cameron also mentioned how he read, Joey stated he ‘felt like someone was watching him all the time’. “Why?” I asked, now a bit concerned. Cameron looked up at me, “Because those woods are sketchy. From what I read, he went out to the dirt alley behind his house, and that was the last time he was heard from.”. I shook a bit from the cold air, “I-I’ll be fine, I’m sure of it. Anyways, what are you doing after school? I was wondering if you wanted to hang out?”. Cameron took out his phone to check a text, then replied, “Uhh, my Mom wanted me to go to church this evening, but I think I can blow it off. You have anything good at your place?”. “Yes, my new diapers are getting dropped off sometime today, I think you’d like these!” I enthusiastically grinned as I kept my voice down. Cameron looked away and smiled, then said, “Nice, let me just text my Mom, then I'll be good to hang out.”. He said, before he stood up, and we walked back to class. After school, Cameron and I met up just outside the front office and we walked home together. The weather had warmed up a little, but the breeze was starting to pick up, so we rushed home. Scathed by the dry cold air, we finally got home in record time; I made sure to pick up the heavy box of diapers off the porch, and put them on the kitchen table to open. The first thing I did when I got inside was make sure the back door was locked, before I began opening up the box. “ABUniverse? How can you afford these?” Cameron asked, as I pulled out one of the eight packs of diapers. “Mom got a raise a month ago, or so. She asked me what I should order, and I took your advice.” I smiled, dumping the other seven packs onto the carpet from the cardboard box; there were 3 packs of Simple, 3 packs of Space, and 2 packs of Little Pawz. “Quality stuff, dude! I’m excited for you.” He said, opening the plastic on a ‘Little Pawz’. “They might be a bit big on you and me, since the website said the minimum waist size is 31”.” I said, as he pulled out a diaper that seemed to be larger than his head. He didn’t waste any time, as he quickly pulled off his pants and underwear, exposing himself to me. In a flash, Cameron unfolded the diaper, threw it between his legs, pulled the wings up, and taped on the tapes. The diaper looked a little bit big, but the tapes didn’t touch each other, so I figured the size fit well. Meanwhile, I piled the remaining seven packs of diapers into my arms, and began to carry them to my room. “Aaah…” He sighed, while a very noticeable yellow stain poured down the front of the diaper, accompanied by the audible hissing of his pee, which faded out quickly, “I’m done.” He said moments later, straightening his posture. “You should’ve waited, a little while, now you’re stuck in a wet diaper.” I giggled as I walked to my room; arms full. “I had to go, bad! Plus it’s not like I’ll be wearing it all day, I got stuck going to that crappy church event.” His voice echoed from the family room. “You couldn’t get out of that?” I yelled from my room, while I tossed the bags onto my bed to be put away later. “Nope, and I’m not wearing this to church!” He let out a laugh. It’s humorous, but I remember when his Mom caught him wearing one of my diapers a few months ago. Last September, Cameron was wearing one of my diapers when he had to go back home. He figured it wasn’t a big deal; yet, his parents took him out clothes shopping directly after picking him up, and his Mom discovered his wet diaper under a pair of Arizona jeans he was trying on. First thing she did was send him to a psychotherapist then made him clean out his closet, in hopes of getting rid of anything he may have been hiding. Since then he hasn't brought another diaper home since. —-
  11. I'm relatively inexperienced when it come to add-ins (baby powder, baby oil, creams) when it comes to diapers. So I'm here for some advice regarding Desitin. As you can tell from the title I am uncircumcised, so I want to know if there are any ill effect from applying Desitin under my foreskin and if it is even recommended. Thanks in advance for any advice you may have!
  12. Teen Titans Go! Season 3 Episode 11, Grube's Fairytales is decently laden with diaper references. Robin, dressed as a renaissance bard, is mocked by Raven as wearing pantaloons. Starfire tauntingly remarks that she thought he was wearing a man diaper. Robin gets really irked, and throughout the episode it becomes a running gag to make fun of his appearance. Cyborg and Beast Boy chuckle later on, asking if he pees in his diaper, and Robin once again grows infuriated. At the conclusion of the episode, Beast Boy once again roasts Robin on wearing a man diaper, and all the fellow Titans laugh at him. Robin, done being angry, just sheds a pathetic tear. The wiki link for Grube's Fairytales is right here, click on it to see the episode, gallery, and transcript. http://teen-titans-go.wikia.com/wiki/Grube's_Fairytales. YouTube only has a clip of the episode, but it includes the first two instances (Starfire & Beast Boy/Cyborg) at 00:21 and 00:34, respectively. Bye
  13. Update. 1-2017 Because this is my own personal fantasy based on my life i often come back to this and rewrite certain things or add things here or there depending on what I'm into at the time so this is the most current rewrite version 2.0
  14. carolinaboytoy


    From the album: carolinaboytoy

    © carolinaboytoy

  15. I'm looking for someone to rp with me. My character being a teenage boy forced to be a baby girl. I would like to rp on skype but email or anywhere else is fine too
  16. Hello world, I was introduced to the community by my boyfriend of two years. He recently came out to me about a year ago. I can imagine this being hard for him but I'm a rather accepting and understanding person. Only wish I had known sooner so we could play. He expressed to me that he is a DL not an AB, which either way is dandy. I'm cool with his interests and allow him to play as he sees fit and will more often than not join him. My questions are necessarily about why how etc etc but more details. When I ask him or read online about how to go about sex and making the experience more enjoyable for the both of us I get generic answers. I want specific details on what to do and how to do it. We have regular sex and are switches. I'd be interested in letting him "be my daddy" or I "be his mommy", or at least trying it. I just need specific details on how to do things or again what to do. Neither of us would neccessairly be interested in full baby play such as, pacifiers, clothing, or baby talk. I need help so I can fully satisfy my boyfriend and gain some satisfaction for myself.
  17. Caio

    My cute pj.

    My cute pj top.
  18. (I have an RP idea; my character, Oliver Patterson, a twenty-two year old who is driving over to his friends' house, is captured by a man who takes him to a secluded house/whatever and treats him like a baby. It has to be forced, with forced regression/babying, and the man who does it needs to be dominating, and try altering him so he becomes a baby mentally. Anyone interested in RPing the man? Post here or PM me if you are.)
  19. 25 year old Joey Sanders waited in the living room for his new girlfriend of a year, Natalie. Joey had met Natalie through his best friend whom had dated Natalie's sister. Joey had been skeptical about matchmaking, but it was love at first sight. Earlier in the month, he had asked her to move in. She eagerly accepted. He eventually planned on marrying her. Joey and Natalie had one big thing in common: children. Joey was the proud father of 2 year old Jaxon Sanders. His mother was no longer in the picture. She signed over her parental rights hours after his birth. Natalie had a 4 year old daughter, Isla. This day was the first step to the rest of their lives.
  20. The day began as it usually did, with the peeling of sweaty sheets off of his chiseled upper body. This time, not only was the bed drenched in sweat, it was also soaked with a good dose of urine, making him gag in disgust. Oliver wasn't usually the type to piss the bed, but he'd been getting so wasted lately that it was hard not to. Humiliated and annoyed that he'd have to sneak out again to both get his piss-soaked sheets and undergarments washed but to also do so without alerting anyone in the house, he dragged himself out of his room. The air, thick with the reek of something mingled with sweat and piss, made him want to vomit, but he choked down last nights'
  21. Oliver had been expecting the school year to be one of boredom and too much homework, but instead of hearing sneakers squeak against polished linoleum or chattering classmates, he was listening to a woman speak in a white, plain-looking academy. "Hello, little one. Tell me, what's your full name?" Confused by the way she spoke to him, as if he were a child, he scowled and ran a hand through his tangled, white-blond hair before responding with, "Oliver Stacy Patterson; is that simple enough for you, bitch?
  22. Oliver was alone; the streets were empty, void of life, and beyond the mass of parked cars near one house that was lit up with fluorescent strobe lights, nothing was present. He didn't notice anything odd; a party going on in one house wasn't that big a deal to him, and most people were asleep by this hour. Without a word, he began to look around for his
  23. My name is joanie smith i am six months old. Father: Howard 34 Mother: Ruth 33 Bother: Richard 8 Sister: Mary 5
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