Search the Community
Showing results for tags 'college students'.
-
I started writing about a new OC a while ago, finally found this so I am going to repost it here! ------------------------------------------ Thorn Thorn was just your average college freshmen with a secret. She wore diapers. She had to wear diapers after all. She was completely bladder incontinent. She had unfortunately been for as long as she could remember. She had tried so hard to keep the secret from her friends. For the most part of her life, her mother was the only one that knew about her issue. It wasn’t that she had to have her mother change her diapers. But it was easier. This arrangement was favourable up until she left her home to go live on her own. Thorn was currently living in a dorm on her new college campus. She supported herself by working at the local college library. It was good work, but to avoid any suspicions from people she took frequent trips to the bathroom, even though she didn’t know when she went- it was, for most of the time to change her own diapers. The woman in charge of the library, Ms. Smith eventually got suspicious of her running in and out of the bathroom every hour and confronted her about her odd behaviour. Well, it looks like the cat was out of the bag. Thorn begging her not to tell anyone, it was already embarrassing that she had to wear diapers, let alone someone or everyone else knowing. Ms. Smith didn’t react in the way that she thought she would. Instead she was very understanding and compassionate about the whole situation. “As long as it doesn’t effect your work anymore then it shouldn’t concern me”. She said. Thorn was almost revealed about it. But she had to work her schedule around it, still checking her diaper from time to time while she was working. Eventually Ms. Smith told her not to worry about bathroom breaks and just work through them. Thorn was reluctant at first, telling her that she would need a change at the end of her shift. To her surprise- Ms. Smith agreed! Even going so far as to check her diapers for her and change her if she need be! But thorn refused, telling her that she didn’t anyone else to change her diapers or look after her. “Now don’t be silly, I don’t want you to walk around with a smelly wet diaper all day because you forgot to change yourself!”. She explained. Thorn told her that she was being over protective and that she wasn't her mother. So it came as a surprise when she had forgotten her offer. Thorn turned around at the end of her shift to find Ms. Smith there, holding a ruler in one hand. Ms. Smith would lift the front of Thorn’s skirt up with the end of the ruler without a word, causing the young woman to blush. “Hey! C-cut that out!”. She replied. “Ah I thought so, you are wet again young lady!’. The librarian replied. Thorn pulled her skirt back down, her face bright red. “T-thank you… let me go change…”. She said, excusing herself to the bathroom. To Thorn’s surprise, Ms. Smith followed her to the bathroom. She looked at her as she got a spare diaper from her backpack. “I told you, I can do this myself!”. Ms. Smith only smiled. “I know you can dear.”. She replied. Much to her surprise Ms. Smith took her spare diaper and proceed to lay it out on the floor. “But never turn down help where it comes!”. She said. “Besides, I can keep a secret!”. She said, giving a warm smith at Thorn. Thorn gave an inwards sigh as she removed her wet diaper. It was going to be a long year, that was for sure. It was a cool Saturday evening when Thorn got home to her apartment. She immediately ran to her bathroom and took a shower, but not before removing her diaper and preparing a new change of clothes for herself- along with a fresh diaper. She was finally home, and she was going to relax the only way she knew how. Thorn stepped out of the shower after a few minutes- or until she decided she was relatively clean for her standards. She looked over her change of clothes, a simple teeshirt with a pink dress and pink stockings, a pair overalls, fuzzy white slippers and of course the brand new diaper. It was time to relax. One she was changed into her new clothes she sat in front of the television. Her eyes glazed over the flashing cartoons as she immersed herself into the channel she was watching. It was time to just completely shut her brain off as she took a sip of a juice box that was next to her on the coffee table. A small smile fell across her face as she begun to relax. Her thumb going reflexivity up to her mouth as she begun to suck on it. The weekend was the only time that she could actually have time to herself and not worry about anything. This was her routine, it was her only bit of peace of mind in this crazy world, and no one was going to judge her- at least no one was going to know that she secretly enjoyed this lifestyle. But yes, not even the people closest to her knew it. Honestly that was how she liked it, it was her private life. No one needed to know about her private life after all. That was the way it was, and it always has been for as long as she could remember when she first indulged in this type of thing. Thorn got a little bit too relaxed it would seem and she felt her diaper getting warm and tight against her crotch, but she didn’t care- she was too busy watching treehouse, watching the backyard creatures play pretend. A knock on her front door snapped her out of her little-space and she felt her face going red hot. She quickly stood up, and made her way over to her door. Thorn looked through the peephole in her door. “Who is it?”. She asked aloud. “Its Ms. Smith, dear!”. A voice replied back to her. Ms. Smith was standing in front of her door, and she appeared to be holding something in her hand. Thorn felt her heart beat in her chest, she tried to speak, but it was hard to find her voice. “What do you want?”. She said, unintentionally sounding more rude than she meant to come off as. Thorn stared though the peephole, and tried to see what the Librarian was holding in her hands. Ms. Smith gave a clear of her throat, holding up a textbook in front of the peephole, assuming that she was looking through it. Thorn was surprised to see it. “You left your textbook in my office, dear!”. She responded to Thorn. Oh crap, she did leave it at the college’s library. She panicked, not sure what she should do. Should she asked her to just leave it? Should she lie? Say that she was sick? A lot of ideas raced through Thorn’s head. There came another knock at the door as the librarian called out again. “Thorn, are you still there?”. Ms. Smith asked, placing her hand on the handle of the door only to find that was in fact open. “Thorn, I-“. She was just about to say as she opened the front door to her apartment. What she saw stood in front of her was something she didn’t expect to see. It was Thorn. She was dressed in a childish outfit that appeared to be way too young for her. “MS. SMITH! I CAN EXPLAIN!!!”. Thorn cried out, placing her arms over herself to try and hide the outfit that she was wearing out of desperation. They didn’t say anything for a solid thirty seconds, and just stared at each other. A small warm smile laid across the librarians face, simply handing Thorn the textbook as her other hand went up to her mouth. The book was quickly snatched up by the young woman and held against her bosom. “Please don’t tell anyone about this…”. She said to Ms. Smith. The older woman only placed her hands on either side of her hips and shook her head. Her face was bright red, and she couldn’t hold back her true feelings anymore. “Dear, I thought I told you…” She wiped at her eyes, removing her glasses as she did so. Thorn looked at her offended. “Your secrets are safe with me!”. She said, reassuring the girl that she was not making fun of her. Ms. Smith took a step back, and thorn looked up from hugging her textbook. “T-thank you…” She said, turning around and placing the book on her coffee table. She turned back to look at Ms. Smith. “Do you have a fresh diaper?” The woman asked. Thorn gave a tiny yelp as she realized that she had in fact wet herself again with realizing it. The librarian gave a smirk. “Do you want me to help you with that?”. She asked. Thorn blushed, but gave a nod of her head, realizing that she would need help getting out of all these clothes.
- 2 replies
-
- 7
-
- inconinence
- diaper
- (and 9 more)
-
Would love to do a roleplay slightly based off a video I watched. This guy was diapered and breastfed forcefully by two girls but I would switch it up and have it being a girl with two other girls. I will be playing the one that's babied and I will play one of the girls. My character is gonna be a highschool student at a college sorority party and two students find out that my character is in highschool not college. So to teach her a lesson about going to a party you weren't invited to and because she's young, they pull her into a private nursery and force her to be their baby.
- 135 replies
-
- 2
-
- babied
- humiliation
-
(and 4 more)
Tagged with:
-
Hello everyone, This is the first chapter of my latest story. This is currently being published chapter by chapter on my Patreon and will be available in its entirety later this year. You can find the latest chapters at patreon.com/alex_bridges. All characters are 18+ Chapter 1 It’s not like I did it on purpose. I’m not sorry, but it’s not like I did it on purpose. I babysit three times a week on average, more like five times in the summer. I want to pay for as much of college as I can in cash, and childcare pays better than retail or waiting tables. Especially now that schools keep opening and closing, parents are desperate for a night away. For me, an opportunity to make more money, which I need. I’m not going to risk my reputation as the best sitter in town just because of a little mix up. “Hi, Mrs. Rooney,” I said when she opened the door. “Hi, Sally. Come on in. Thanks for coming over on short notice.” I followed her into her kitchen; the Rooneys always have good stuff in the fridge. I didn’t get where I am as a sitter by abusing fridge privileges, but I don’t pass up the benefit either. She was dressed to the nines. I never asked, but it always seemed like she and Mr. Rooney must be going someplace expensive. Just based on their house alone, they must be one of the richer families I sit for. They’re not wealthy, but they got the upper-middle-class thing down pat. Literally the only people I know whose entryway it an actual room. “Always happy to when I can,” I replied, “I like Jamie and Jackie.” Well behaved kids, easy to get along with. “O, they’re both at friends’ houses tonight. It’ll just be you and Gordy tonight. Is that okay?” Like I couldn’t tell this ‘misunderstanding’ was totally on purpose. She had this guilty, pleading look on her face, but that was so beside the point. “Gordon? Really?” I knew Gordon. More specifically, I’ve known him since kindergarten, which would make fourteen years we’ve known each other. We graduated a little over year ago in the same class; we were even in the same twelfth grade homeroom, and now we’re both sophomores townies at the same college. I’ve sat for the Rooneys more than a few times, and Gordon was, obviously, never one of my charges. I just figured that was because he was the same age as me. Come to think of it, he was never even home when I sat for the kids because if he was, why would they need me to watch the kids? “I wouldn’t ask. Normally he spends the night at my sister’s or a friend’s house when you’re over, but he can’t tonight.” Like, but he’s … “But why does he need a sitter? He’s twenty. He’s, like, a month older than me, right?” And I’m also twenty. “Yes, but I don’t like leaving him alone if it can be helped.” “O … kay. So we’ll just watch a movie, I guess.” Get paid a hundred bucks to watch a movie with one of my peers? Weird, but fine by me. We’re not friends exactly, but we’re friendly. We were sorta friends when we were younger, but less so once we got to middle school. Gordon’s not exactly Mister Popular. Everyone’s nice to him, though, and he seems nice enough too. Just … different crowds. “Not exactly. I can explain fast, but we’re running late.” “That’s fine. I’ll stay.” “O, thank you. We just really need a night out, and since he got in trouble on campus today, he’s not allowed to go to his friend’s house and my sister already had plans and …” Didn’t really need her life story. “Whatever. It’s fine. Just tell me what’s up,” I said with a dab of false cheer to cover my WTF. She’s running late; I’m getting paid whether she tells me all this other stuff or not, so hey, let’s skip to the part I need to know, right? “Gordy,” Mrs. Rooney said, “come sit at the table with us. I want you to hear all of this so you can’t say you didn’t know later.” I followed her eyes, and color me surprised to see Gordon – Gordy at home, apparently; he always hated being called that in school – standing in the corner in his pajamas at six o’clock. I know the difference between lazy around-the-house-clothes and jammies, and those were definitely jammies. He shuffled over blushing all the way to his ears as he kept his eyes pointed at the floor. We all took a seat at the table. I couldn’t tell if he as about to cry, tantrum, or both, and I wouldn’t blame him if he did. If I were him, I’d probably have broken something and peeled out of the driveway while flipping the bird. I mean, we’re not kids. We’re not even teenagers. We’re way too old for a babysitter by about eight years. “First off,” Mrs. Rooney said, “do you know about Gordy’s issue?” “His diapers? Yeah.” Like he could keep that a secret for since literally the entire time I’d known him. No one made fun of him for it, not in a long time. Kindergarten and maybe first grade a little, but even in kindergarten it quickly became normal: our class had a kid in diapers. An adult in diapers now. And he’s not on the spectrum or delayed or anything. I don’t know what the issue is cuz it’s none of my business, but he’s always been in diapers, at least so far as I know. You’d have to be dense to have not figured it out within the first week of kindergarten. And if even if you were dense, when we got to middle school and had to change for gym, I think they let him change in a private stall or something, but you could totally hear him crinkling through those shorts. And no one teased him. Gordon wears diapers, always has; he went to the nurse a couple times a day, and we all knew why. If anything, people in school were kind of protective of him even though he didn’t need it. I even heard a rumor that when a new kid asked about it in tenth grade, the biggest bully in our class hauled off and punched him just to make it perfectly clear no one bullies Gordon. “You’ll need to check and change him tonight.” Just when I thought Gordon – well, when in Rome – Gordy couldn’t bow his head any lower. “Uh, he doesn’t do that himself? Or can’t he?” You don’t get to be the most sought-after babysitter in town by being squeamish about changing diapers, but one fact I do know: toddlers make bigger messes than newborns, and twenty-year-old Gordy has about a hundred and five pounds on the average two-year-old. Though come to think of it, I didn’t know if Gordy needed diapers for that or just for wetting accidents. In the brief second I had to consider that, it occurred to me even a toddler who still has wetting accidents is usually in a pull-up, not a full blown diaper. Our school’s gym shorts covered everything, but there was no mistaking Gordy’s underpants for a pull-up. He wears diapers. “Gordy got a diaper rash last week. If he wants the privilege of changing his own diapers, he needs to be responsible about it, which means no rashes. I’m sorry to even ask you to change him, but I like to be very consistent with the rules, and the rule is if he gets a diaper rash, no changing his own diapers for a month.” Not surprised exactly. She’s one of the stricter parents I sat for. So yeah, she’s his stepmom, but she’s not really an evil stepmom. She’s just a stickler for rules. I was afraid to ask this and very sorry to have to ask it in front of Gordy, poor little guy, but I had to. “Um, does he … both ways?” I guess I could’ve asked him, but he seemed like he’d rather have a hole swallow him than answer any questions. “He doesn’t usually have a dirty diaper in the evening.” “Still …” “Two hundred for the night,” Mrs. Rooney said before I could finish the sentence we both knew I was in the middle of saying. “Two-fifty.” Hey, I’m not one to miss an opportunity. Do you know what books cost for just one semester? “Done.” “Sorry,” I said under my breath to Gordy. I felt bad enough for him that she was making him have a sitter, but how much worse for him to hear what it costs to get someone to look after him, which he doesn’t want anyway, and pretty obvious why anyone would want extra to sit for him. So yes, I felt bad for him, but it’s just … the ‘usually’ in ‘doesn’t usually have a dirty diaper in the evening’ sorta stands out like sore thumb in that sentence, right? It would if you were me, and I am me. “And another thing,” Mrs. Rooney said. “Mommmm,” he whined. A little spark of rebellion flashed in his eyes. I didn’t know about what, but that’s what you expect from someone his age. I guess I understand if life’s circumstances made him a little more likely to give in than lash out even when any of the boys we graduated with most of the girls would’ve told their stepmom where to go by now. “Gordon, last warning.” I looked from her to him, and that little spark turned into a little water, and he looked back down at the table. “As I was saying, Gordon got in trouble on campus today and is grounded, so he’s not spending the night at a friend’s like he normally does. Why don’t you tell the story, Gordy, since you think you’re old enough to say anything you want?” Did I say ‘stepmom’, cuz I meant ‘bitch.’ And Mrs. Rooney is not normally a bitch, so that got me more than a little curious what exactly he’d done to piss her off so mightily. On top of which, it’s not exactly easy to get in trouble on campus. I mean, we’re adults. You can do some seriously stupid stuff on campus without getting in trouble. He sighed and answered, “I called called someone … a name.” “The ‘C’ word,” his stepmom clarified. Or should I say his very reasonable, no more pissed off than she had a right to be (but could still be a whole lot more chill and even more thoughtful) stepmom clarified. “Gordy actually called a woman the ‘C’ word.” “But she …” Gordy tried to defend his actions. “I know what she said, and you had every right to be angry with her, but that is not how you talk to or about women. You know that, and losing your temper is not an excuse for using a slur.” She turned back to me. “I already washed his mouth out, but that language also earned him a bedtime spanking.” “A sp … O … kay.” Of all the ways my day could’ve gone, didn’t see this one coming. Like, at all. I personally never got why some parents get so bent out of shape about bad words (how bad can they be when you can turn on network TV and hear most of them?), and I didn’t really get why she cared given that – did I mention it six times already? – Gordy is twenty years old. On the other hand … now I understood why Mrs. Rooney was taking it so seriously. It’s not that big a deal if you think of the ‘C’ word as a swear, but if you think of it as a slur, yeah, much bigger deal. I guess it depends on how you use it, cuz I could see how it could be a slur, but I’ve always thought of it more as a swear. Not that my opinion meant anything in the circumstances. I’m the babysitter – I literally just work here. “I’m too old,” Gordy interjected probably (more like definitely) more loudly than someone in his position should’ve. I mean, I agree with him, but he still should’ve just kept quiet. There’s standing up for yourself, and then there’s digging the hole deeper. If she had already washed his mouth out (ick!), not let him go out with friends, and hired a sitter for him, I couldn’t imagine any argument, not matter how obviously valid, changing her mind. Mrs. Rooney is a fit woman; I’ve seen her play a heckuva game of tennis at the club, so not a surprise she could be on her feet and have her stepson by the ear so damn fast. Gordy’s not the first kid I’ve gone to babysit and found standing in a timeout; or the first kid I’ve gone to sit and seen spank-marched to the nearest corner for corner time; or even the first kid I’ve sat for who earned a spanking on my watch. But he was the first kid I’ve sat for who wasn’t, ya know, an actual kid. He may have crinkled all the way to the corner; he may have eeped a little when she tugged his ear; he may have tried to get out of the way of her hand as she delivered those underhand spanks; and he may even be kinda cute in a boyish kind of way, but definitely an adult. One whose birthday actually comes before mine. Diapered or not, adult. “Not another word,” Mrs. Rooney warned him, “or I’ll take your pants down right here. You just stand there and listen.” And damn did she mean it, even in evening wear. That tone? Enough to make me almost jump out of my chair to find my own corner and listen. “Are we ready, honey,” Mr. Rooney asked as he appeared from somewhere. Not that I wanna be that babysitter, but Mr. Rooney can take me anywhere so long as he’s wearing his tux. Shawl collar? Makes him seem even taller. No mistaking him for your waiter. And who even goes places that are black tie? “Just a minute,” Mrs. Rooney replied and picked up the pace; they probably had a reservation at one of those places you have to reserve six months ahead of time. Anyway, she continued quickly with, “He takes a bath on Fridays, not a shower. When he gets out of the bath, please give him his spanking. His diaper comes down, and he goes over your knee. He knows where to the hairbrush is. Then it’s straight to bed. Lights out at 9:30. That means no dawdling in the tub, Gordy. Out at 9:15. Understood?” He either understood or he didn’t want to risk saying anything he had every right to say but shouldn’t unless he wanted two spankings in one day. “Any questions,” she asked me. “So … on his … bare?” “Have you ever given a spanking before?” “Yeah … Well, a swat on their reset button,” I said, oddly embarrassed. I mean, most parents don’t even spank anymore, let alone allow – let alone ask! – a sitter to do it. I’ve tapped a tantruming toddler on the bottom before, but that’s not even a spanking. “Are you okay doing it? I wouldn’t ask, but the rule is a bedtime spanking. It’s best for them to get their consequence as soon as possible, and Gordy really needs the structure.” I guess that was all Gordy could take. “But she can’t! She’s the same age as me!” There was silence as Mrs. Rooney turned and looked at him like he was out of his mind. I thought he was in his exact right mind, but if I had to live with her, always strict like she is and and just then downright exuding this weird kind of determined, calm-but-pissed-off vibe she was giving off, I think I’d have kept my mouth shut. I think he realized that too cuz he didn’t say anything else or turn around. So that was two outbursts (justified if unwise) since I’d gotten there plus calling someone the ‘C’ word all in one day. Talk about your verbal incontinence. I don’t feel very strongly about spanking one way or the other. It didn’t do me any harm – though the last one I got was in third or fourth grade, and it was pretty rare before then too – but I’m not one of those crazy people who thinks you can’t possibly raise godly tomatoes (or whatever asinine phrase the bible bunch uses) without it. Still, I was the babysitter. It’s kind of my critical to my job to not let “you’re just the babysitter so you can’t XYZ” slide. On the one hand, pick your battles. On yet another hand, some battles you gotta fight. So I got up and connected that hand hard with Gordy’s butt. “I’m the babysitter. I’m in charge. And if your stepmom says you’re getting a spanking, you’re getting a spanking.” Two bonuses to stepping up like I did. First, and this wasn’t the main thing but was intentional, Mrs. Rooney smiled thinly and stood up, not to follow up on her threat to spank Gordy but to leave. Good riddance. Who needs those vibes around? Second, unintentional bonus: holy crap did I feel more powerful than I ever have in my life. And turned on. My promise ring didn’t make the journey from youth group to my mom’s car, but never I felt the way I did right then without a D or a D-cell battery before. Downside? Gordy finally lost it and started sniffling. I know the two spanks I landed didn’t actually hurt through his diaper, but I’m sure he was feeling about two inches tall having his college classmate spank him on his diaper while telling him she could and would give him a real spanking later that same night. I hated that I made him feel that way, even if I was just his stepmom’s instrument in this case. But also, and I feel guilty for saying this, it kinda added to the whole arousal hearing him sniffle. So … there’s a thing I learned about myself that night. Mrs. Rooney said to me, “I think you’ll do fine, but if you have any questions, Gordy will answer them. Not his first trip over a knee.” “Another fifty.” Did I say that? Good for me! “That’s fair. Edward,” she called out to wherever Mr. Rooney had gone, “ready when you are.” To me she said, “Thank you again and sorry for all the fuss. I didn’t want to call just anyone over. I trust you. He may not want you here, but I told him you’d keep everything between us, won’t you?” “Of course.” Also, ‘may not?’ Try resented the hell out of it, understandably so. And I resented the hell out of her asking me to sit and springing this on me. “We’ll be home very late.” “I know. I’ll probably be asleep on the couch when you get home.” I stood against the doorframe and watched Mr. Rooney count out three hundred dollars and put it next to the pizza money. I told them to have fun. She called me a godsend and barely avoided the door hitting her on the butt on the way out. To my right, Gordy in the corner, no longer sniffling but still staring at the wall on his naughty spot. To my left, three hundred dollars on the counter just for spanking and diapering a grown man. If I’d only known about this cottage industry sooner! Heck, I’d have paid off my car by now. Go to patreon.com/alex_bridges to continue reading
- 13 replies
-
- 13
-
- spanking
- embarrassment
- (and 7 more)