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Anyone else wish they had someone that used your diaper as their toilet? Like them peeing down the back while you're wearing it. Or them untaping your diaper and messing in the front, before taping it back up. Or even them pre-using your diaper before you wear them. Imagine if every diaper you wear had someone else's mess in it already. This would be so hot~ ? Not only would you're diaper be twice as full, you'd be messy all the time!

A Warning As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established 'Diaper Dimension.' These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Breastfeeding Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Humiliation Giants, aka, Amazons or Bigs Predominantly female domination (some male) Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Experimentation on humans Kidnapping Coerced or manipulated actions through possible means of white lies, gas lighting, or incentives Mild language or use of explitives Depictions of death, illness, or handicaps Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. For those readers interested or do not care about the warnings listed, please enjoy the following story. So, this will be my next story set in the diaper dimension. I fully admit that I am not paralyzed myself, so I hope I do not offend anyone with this topic, but after tearing a muscle in my back this summer, I couldn't help but think of what I would bargain away to get rid of the pain or the problems that I was having. It seemed to good of an opportunity to pass up. If everything holds, this story will be divided into 6 parts, but all will be posted within this thread. If nothing goes wrong, I should have this completed before mid-October and I'll likley be picking up shortly after with a bit of a different story with magic and diapers and whatnot. It's not my usual fair, but I wanted to do something with Halloween in mind this go around. I hope everyone enjoys this first chapter! Part I: New Beginnings Chapter 1: Crashing Through Life The storm had been raging for the better part of the day, but Patrick had to be picked up from a friend’s party. He had run his truck into the ground and the engine likely needed to be fully replaced according to the auto body shop that had towed it away two days ago. He sighed and scoffed deeply as he entered his mom’s car, still frustrated over the fact that he couldn’t get a rental car until tomorrow and thus had to rely on her for transportation. Of course, Laura had noticed immediately and just let it go to maintain the peace between the two of them as usual. For the past two years their lives had touched briefly about every two weeks now in between visits. She didn’t like it, but she didn’t want to start another fight over it. About halfway through the drive back home, however, Laura turned onto a long stretch of road with only two lanes. It saved everyone who took it about an hour of driving, but it was a dangerous stretch that had claimed many lives. She had just gotten off her shift at the hospital so getting home as soon as possible after dropping her son off at his home was the main priority before her lack of sleep caught up to her. As a nurse, she knew very well the number of deadly crashes that had occurred here even in perfect weather. Patrick mumbled something under his breath. “Say something, honey?” Laura asked sweetly, trying to keep the spark alive with her ever-further distant son. Patrick shifted and just continued to stare out the window. “No…” Laura continued to stare at him with her tried and true facial expression that she had used on him since he was two years old. She didn’t say a word, but her well-crafted look said all it needed to. Patrick groaned. “Fine, mom. Geez! It’s just embarrassing to be picked up by my mom when I’m 25.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s fine. Just drop it…” It was now Laura’s turn to sigh. “You know how I hate that word…” “What? Fine?” Laura nodded. “It’s just a word, mom, and it’s just how I feel. I’m fine.” Laura sighed again. “I’m sorry you feel embarrassed sweetie, but your car is still in the shop getting repaired and your rental won’t be ready until tomorrow. You’re lucky my shift ended when it did, and I could pick you up. Something tells me that your other friends back there wouldn’t have been… uh, as safe.” Laura tiptoed around outright saying sober, but Patrick still caught on to her insinuation. “Yeah… maybe. But it was a party!” Patrick threw his hands up in the air. “We were celebrating Sam’s promotion at work!” “And that’s wonderful, dear. I just wish your fun would have been safer. I am your mother. It’s practically in the job description to worry about my only child.” Patrick rolled his eyes. “Yeah… it’s just my stupid car is all. Would have been fine otherwise.” Laura sighed. “Honey, I love you, but that car has been on its last legs for months now. Even as mechanically inept as I may be compared to your late father, even I could tell that. Sometimes I just wish…” Laura faded off. Patrick turned to her with an annoyed look, one that was continually adopted by him whenever they talked about his dad. “What?” Laura shook her head and gave a small shake of her hand to wave him off the subject, before quickly snapping it back to the shaky wheel from the elements outside. “What?” Patrick pressed again. Laura sighed. “It’s just that…” She paused and took her eyes off the road for a second to reflect on her next words. Lightning crashed all around the two and the rain seemed to only pepper their car further. The only positive was that with all the bends in the road, both could see the exit off in the distance whenever the lightning would light up the sky. Having taken the road before in more favorable conditions, ten more minutes and they would be off this stretch and nearly home. “I just wish you were a little… less carefree.” Patrick groaned. “Sorry I’m not some corporate shill like all my other friends,” Patrick said with a deep undertone of sarcasm. Laura winced at the implication. She wanted the best for her son, but she also wanted him to be happy, a fact which couldn’t necessarily be said about his other friends who had pursued careers for money instead of what they enjoyed. “You know that’s not what I want for you, I just… you’re so darn talented. You could do so much…” Laura said wistfully. “You know how much I admired you for not becoming an engineer, doctor, or lawyer like half the block. I mean look at them all now. Out of the ten friends you grew up with from there, seven went on to have one of those three jobs. Now, only two of them have still stuck with it.” Laura let out and exaggerated breath. “I want you to follow your passions, but I just wish that you would pursue them a little more…” “It’s my life, mom. I don’t want to burn out like all the rest. Can’t you understand that?” Patrick’s eyes pleaded out with his mom. He wasn’t poor or anything, but no one could consider him wealthy either. He had tried engineering for a while, but after an intense argument one fall semester, Patrick had changed his major to art. Currently, he worked for an ad agency, but he was still the low man on the totem pole. Laura saw the desperation in her son’s eyes. She knew he had the potential to do well, but two years at the bottom of a company was long enough. Something had to be done. “I do, honey. I just wish…” “Yeah, yeah. You just want me to work a little harder. Work for my position and all that... It’s a nice sentiment and I’m trying sometimes but there’s more to it.” Patrick paused and looked at the ground for a brief second to gather his willpower to continue this conversation. Once collected, he shifted his head back up to meet his mom’s turned and loving gaze. “I… Mom! Look out!” Patrick quickly reached for the wheel to turn out of the path of the oncoming tractor trailer as his mom tried to react to it as well. It was too late though. The large vehicle had slipped out of its own lane and was coming right for them. In a second, the two cars collided with a sickening crunch. All at once the world lurched forward as glass and metal spewed in all directions. Two large pieces came hurdling toward him and his mom. * * * “No!” Patrick bolted upright in bed. He was soaked in sweat and his breathing was labored. Per his old therapist’s recommendation, Patrick looked around the room to steady himself by using his five senses. It took a minute to complete properly, but it really did help, and he once again thanked the universe for lining him up with her after the crash. He looked around the room and shook his head. “Five years… where has the time gone?” Patrick glanced over at his small, old alarm clock and saw that it was 8:06 in the morning. He groaned audibly. “I was hoping to sleep in today, but there’s no point now. Just got to get on with things…” Patrick adjusted himself in his bed, and after many years of practice by now, with a grunt, he was able to swing his legs over and to the side of the bed. Some people had massive cramps in the morning with his condition, but not Patrick. With a large sigh, he collected his wheelchair and then hoisted himself into it. It was black and lower to the ground without any handles in the rear for him to be pushed by someone else, as requested. He lived alone and dealt with all this by himself. It sucked most days at this point, but that was just life after the accident and his ensuing paralysis. His suffering was part of his self-enforced punishment for what had happened. The accident had done many things, but Patrick had fractured his L1 through L3 vertebrate. It caused a lot of issues initially, but the most apparent were what he had to deal with in the morning ever since he had managed it himself since that night. With a groggy sigh, Patrick wheeled himself over to the bathroom to relieve himself. Due to the nature of his injury and his doctor’s plan, it was discovered that enemas and intermittent catheterization were the best policies to avoid any accidents or blockages. Patrick had been a private person about most of that stuff before but now, he knew that he just needed relief. Personal happiness or feelings of modesty had to be placed aside occasionally to ensure nothing got worse. He collected the necessary materials and winced as he prepared himself for the now daily ordeal. The incident that had occurred two years ago when he had to be hospitalized over a blockage then was a painful reminder to just set one’s ego aside and get this whole thing over with. Positioning himself correctly, Patrick applied the apparatuses to relieve himself. It was darn frustrating to do this every morning, but he knew that it needed to be done. About twenty minutes or relief and cleanup later, Patrick wheeled himself out of the bathroom after washing himself off and removing the catheter. “One day I might get used to this… maybe…” Patrick sighed and then rolled himself over to his easily accessible dresser. With some careful maneuvering, he quickly popped out a pair of jeans and a nice polo shirt. Today was a special day and he didn’t want to look like a complete bum. His beard had already grown out and he knew his mom would have disliked how it framed his previously gushed-at round and rosy cheeks. Satisfied with his appearance and groaning after finally getting his shoes on with a little manipulation, Patrick rolled out to the kitchen. After a quick spot of cereal later and the popping of some pills, he was out the door with his usual backpack attached to the rear of his chair. It had everything he would need for the day, and he at least had the common sense to pack it the night before in case it was one of the ‘bad’ mornings. Closing his door, Patrick looked distastefully at the view before him. His apartment was decent but was by no means the fanciest in town. Sparse furniture and minimal wall decorations all desperately noted his still-single status and overall depression. Dating was tough in this town, but the accident or its consequences always seemed to weigh too heavily on his mind to make a real effort to even contemplate a change. Regardless, Patrick then locked his door and rolled down the hallway and to the small elevator at the end. A few neighbors acknowledged him as he wheeled by on the creaking laminate flooring in the hallway, but none made the effort to give him a full ‘hello.’ Patrick had given up on trying to be friendly a year after he moved in here. It was just too much effort for too little of results. On the ground floor and right before he exited the apartment building, Mr. Stacci bumbled out of his front door. “You! Patrick!” Patrick halted and pivoted his wheelchair back to face his odious landlord. “Yes, Mr. Stacci?” he asked as politely as he could. Rent control still wasn’t in place around here and Mr. Stacci was highly known for charging more toward those he disliked. “Rent is due. Pay it in the next day or you’re out!” His breath wasn’t necessarily foul, but if this was a cartoon, a green and noxious odor would have likely spewed out of his chubby and tiny head and all over Patrick as he lumbered over to him. “Yes… right…” Patrick acknowledged. He had the money thanks to some family funds but keeping track of time always felt hard these days. He kept a calendar on his phone, but it remained an issue of his since the accident. “You’ll get the money on time. Promise.” “Good.” The heavily obese and balding man huffed by the front entrance but then squinted his dark and beady eyes. “You know I’m a man of my word. Money tomorrow or you’re out.” Patrick just nodded solemnly, hoping the encounter would end soon. Fortunately for his sense of smell though, Mr. Stacci seemed satisfied and turned about and crept back into his own first floor apartment. A few of the old pictures on the wall briefly rattled as his door slammed close. Patrick sighed at the encounter, made a mental note of the rent while checking his phone calendar, and then made it outside and to the nearby bus stop. He lived in the city and cars just gave him a bit of anxiety now, so the bus system or newly installed public transportation monorail were good enough and had at least become more reliable since the influx of technology in the past two decades. The bus soon halted and lowered its platform device for Patrick to get on board. A few stared as he locked himself into position, but Patrick just ignored them as he usually did by now. It had become routine and Freddy, the bus driver, just gave a nod of his head when Patrick signaled that he was ready. The two rarely spoke, but Freddy had trusted him enough to let him lock himself in by now. It was no secret to anyone that even slightly knew him that Patrick still liked his independence. About thirty minutes after a bumpy and uncomfortable ride later, Freddy announced, “Seventh Street! Seventh Street!” With all the automation in technology, Freddy appreciated the warmth of the personal announcement that he would give out on his bus. Plus, his booming yet gentle voice usually woke anyone up who had fallen asleep and would prevent them from missing their stop. At the current seventh street, Patrick made no motion to Freddy to stop, but he did anyway only meters away from turning into the bust stop. Patrick had taken this route several times before, so Freddy only maneuvered the controls to let Patrick off near the curb. Satisfied after Patrick had made it off, Freddy closed the doors and leaned back in his seat. Soon, the bus was huffing away down the hilly road to the east and eventually out of sight. Patrick sighed at the loneliness of seventh street but then wheeled himself a block to the west and halted before looking up at the large sign above him, ‘Grace and Prosperity Cemetery.’ Patrick blinked back the tears that always seemed to form when he entered here and fervently hoped that one day that might stop. Still, today was more important, and after purchasing a bouquet of flowers from a nearby vendor, he pushed forward more in the cemetery and finally made it to a small plot of land perched on a hill looking over the growing and buzzing city in the near distance. The grave was large and had been purchased years ago by his father. The black granite was practically a mirror to all else that went on around it, but the intricately carved white lettering provided a nice contrast that his parents both appreciated when they were selecting it together. When his father passed away suddenly, his mom and him both found the site a bit depressing but still elegant and regal. Today wasn’t any different. “Happy Birthday, mom.” The accident had taken away more than the majority of feeling from Patrick’s waist down; it had also taken his mom’s life. The storm had caused a delay in rescue and treatment which led to his mom bleeding out more than the doctors could repair as well as the deadening of his nerves in his spine. The distant city shone against the cloudy atmosphere of the day and stood as a symbol of all the change that the world had undergone after discovering portal technology. Trade agreements with the Amazons, or how they liked to be called, Bigs, had fixed so many of the world’s previous and seemingly insurmountable problems. Pollution was quickly becoming a distant memory and most citizens of the world had enough food and power to at least be satisfied, if not comfortable. Even medical treatments had started to advance, but like all things, they had come with a price and had their limits. Now, his mom might have been saved, but even a few years ago, well… the grave was evidence enough of the technology not arriving in time to save her life. Patrick fumbled around in his backpack and pulled out an old silver flask. His dad had given it to him when he had turned 18, much to the chagrin of his mom, but it was a nice reminder of better times. “Cheers, you two.” Patrick toasted the stark gravestone etched with his parents’ names and then took a swig of the whiskey he had poured into the flask last night when he had packed his backpack. “I hope you all don’t judge me for this…” he said, gesturing to the flask. “I know the doctors advise me not to drink with my medication, but… I’m sure if you all can hear or see me now… you would get it.” Patrick took another swig and casually glanced around to see if anyone was watching him. They likely wouldn’t care, but he still didn’t want to be watched in pity. He still had some standards to maintain… Another hill over, Patrick could see a family gathering around another gravestone. Their heads were all hung low, but each held each other’s hand tightly. It wasn’t the first time, but the loneliness of it all could still be felt just as keenly as when he first realized he was now all alone. “Honestly, a sibling, an aunt or uncle… someone would be nice by now. Can’t blame you all, but ugh… I just miss you all… so friggin lonely around here these days.” He took another swig and winced a little as a few more drops went down his throat than were intended. It burned but on days like this, feeling the burn almost felt good. Given his current predicament, the burn was at least something. He was already numb in so many other ways, so even the sting in the back of his throat was a reminder that he was still above ground, unlike most of the people here today. Patrick then laid the small bundle of flowers he had purchased on top of the grave and gave another toast with his flask. “Cheers to you all. Sorry to be the downer and all… but if I hadn’t… I only wish… I would have done that night very differently…” Patrick blinked back an errant tear. It wasn’t the first time he apologized or felt guilty when coming here. While his inheritance and disability let him live a comfortable life, the guilt that plagued him after that night with his mom was nearly intolerable. To say the least, there had been several low points in the five years since the accident. Patrick wiped his face and then gave one more cheer and a long sip of his flask before rolling back out of the cemetery. Staying longer wouldn’t do anyone any good and would just give him more ammo of feelings of guilt later tonight. He had figured that out the hard way three years ago when he had stayed until dark. Rolling down the block, Patrick briefly stopped at the bus stop where he had originally got off and he knew from experience that Frank would be here within the next thirty minutes, but today was different. From his position at the top of the hill, he could see a small corner bar. Knowing the drinks were strong and cheap from other times he had visited and then deviated from going straight home, he knew that it felt like just what he needed today. The neighborhood was in a failing state of what once was in society and the city. Some areas had been refurbished around the world that once looked like this, but the portal industry had changed this area for the worse. A new city center was established to the west and the original neighborhood had been left in ruin. A large and shining billboard clearly indicated the decrepitude of the chipped paint and broken brickwork buildings was not to last and soon, the new industries would be here as well. Likely, in a year, the bar now in front of him would no longer be here. “Progress…” Patrick popped some more pills before shaking his head and then wheeling himself inside. After a single beer with his sandwich, Patrick leaned back in his wheelchair and observed the patrons around him in the aging sports bar. It was still slow, but at least five people had already stared at him from their own positions at the bar or at a nearby table. He picked the corner spot to avoid more attention being drawn to him as usual, but in a place like this, someone like him tended to stick out no matter what they did. Patrick was paying more attention to his sandwich when one of the patrons started speaking loudly and caught his attention. “…stupid Amazons… All of dem are stupid… Isn’ dat wigh… right, Bill?” The man was obviously intoxicated, and the bar counter seemed to be one of the few obstacles that stood in the man’s way from completely collapsing. “Sure, Sam…” the bartender acknowledged but also partially dismissed of the patron. From his face, Patrick could see that it wasn’t the first time that this had happened with the local drunk. “Stupid tall fascists came here with all their… fancy technology…” He leaned more heavily into the bar. “I had a good job, Frank… Coal power plant.” He hiccupped. “Hippies hated us… but it was a good job!” “Good job. Right, Sam…” He polished another glass and nodded his head. “Then they came in… with the government and all. It was such a happy day.” The man took another swig from his drink. Patrick couldn’t tell what was in it. “You remember that, Frank?” Frank sighed. “I do, Sam…” Patrick did as well. Most people alive back then did too. Patrick was only five, but even at that young of an age, it wasn’t every day that a race of beings comes from a different dimension and offers your world a treaty that would only seem to solve everyone’s problems. “Yeah! Had a mass on my liver. Hardening even back then, and boom! Gone in a day!” He then got a smug look on his face. “Iss why I can drink all… this,” he gestured to his quickly draining drink. “Can’t kill me anymore!” Patrick stared at the local drunk and couldn’t help but notice almost the sad hint in his voice. He had obviously lost his job when the fusion reactors outside of town had popped on. It was free energy and the Amazons had offered job training, but the more stubborn or set-in-their-ways folks had elected for unemployment instead. ‘Idiots…’ Patrick’s father had eagerly signed up for the training. Built his own business from what he learned in the new offered classes by the new beings and then sold it for a nice chunk of change. Their small family would be financially set for years to come, but almost like a curse from that windfall of money, after only a year of joy, the next six had then claimed both his parents. “Alright… I think you’ve had enough for the day, Sam… let me call you a ride.” Frank quickly tapped on a nearby touch pad and instantly sent for a ride service to pick Sam up. It was simple and convenient and now, most just accepted the service after it was practically fully funded by the city once true unemployment and homelessness had almost been eliminated. It was a good life… ‘Too bad it was all too late for my family though...’ Patrick continued to sit in the bar for the next four hours. The light began to dim outside, and Patrick had relieved himself in the bathroom twice already with his mobile and disposable catheter products. Each had cleared his head a bit, but once he had switched to the harder stuff beyond beer an hour ago, his inebriation only seemed to take a life on its own. By the time it was night out, Patrick was feeling everything, and his inhibitions were fully lowered. The sadness of the day had been briefly put on hold. For a minute, he could almost imagine himself back with his friends before the accident if he just shut his eyes. Then, a very beautiful and leggy redhead sauntered into the bar from outside and sat at the steadily crowded bar. She was alone and many looked at her with longing looks of their own after her stunning entrance. After three guys struck out, Patrick decided to try his luck and wheeled as smoothly as he could right over to her. With a breath, he spoke in the voice he used to use to pick up women before. It had a bit of a swagger to it, but it practically breathed confidence and sincerity. “Hey there, red. I’m Patrick. Mind if I ask what’s your name?” The woman swung around to meet the gaze of the voice next to her, but after a moment of seeming confusion, her eyes dropped to the figure beneath her. After a moment of looking unsure of what to do next, she finally spoke. “Oh… uh, Mary.” “Good to meet you…” He hiccupped and could feel the stronger effects taking over. He had to push forward, but this bravado probably wouldn’t last long. “Uh… sorry, Mary. You live around here?” Not having dated for a while now, his social skills weren’t as refined as they used to be, but he still had a smidge of confidence about him. His fifth whiskey on the rocks had helped with that. Mary looked at the man below her with the same sense of loss and almost pity that Patrick had come to expect. “Yeah… but um, I’m…” “You here by yourself?” Patrick blurted out. His heart had fallen a bit at the looks she was giving him, but he had to push his luck. Mary grimaced a bit over the suddenness of the question. “Umm… yeah, but look, uh…?” “Patrick…” he said, starting to sound a little deflated at the notion of her not remembering his name already. “Right… look.” She sighed. “You seem nice and all…” Patrick could feel his drunkenly inflated hopes start to quickly fade. “But I have a boyfriend…” Patrick groaned. This was headed for failure anyway, so he decided to push his luck further. In times like these, inhibitions might have been a good thing. “Right… do you though?” he questioned. The words had just slipped out and Patrick could immediately tell that Mary wasn’t prepared for them. After her initial shock of his rudeness, her eyes squinted in annoyance. “Well, if you really must know, then no. I don’t have a boyfriend.” Her eyes narrowed further, and her voice started to rise. “I was actually just trying to protect your feelings at a rejection, but I suppose that doesn’t matter.” Patrick started to shrink away in embarrassment. Many of the growing number of patrons in the bar began to look in pity over the developing event before them. Mary seemed to notice as well and took a moment to collect her feelings. “Look, you seem nice and all… probably… but you’re drunk, and you just seem… you look like you could use a shave and maybe a haircut.” She sighed. “Maybe in another life, but not this one and certainly not today. Understand?” “Yeah… okay…” Patrick’s drunken revelry and confidence was no more. With all the dignity he could scrounge left, he quickly downed a few more rounds back at his old table, but after a few stares from those around him, however, he felt that his welcome here had passed. Subsequently, he rapidly paid for his food and drinks and exited without another word to anyone or even a glance back to the woman who had turned his advances away. The still-seated Mary and the others stared back in sympathy over the figure they saw exiting the front door, but Patrick was too entombed in his own self-pity that he didn’t notice. He didn’t even hear Frank call after him to get a ride back like he had done with Sam earlier. Once outside, Patrick rolled on through the streets. The neighborhood was still a bit of a relic and leftover from the old days of the city, and no time like the night was this more evident. Many of the lights were still their old energy sucking and dimly lit versions, which were barely able to keep even the streets below them properly lit. As such, there were many alleyways and dark corners. Gangs and drug deals were rampant in certain spots and Patrick actively avoided them at all costs. Once completely out of view of the bar and a few wandering people on the streets, Patrick began to curse himself as he made his way back home. “Stupid, stupid, stupid! Damn alcohol!” he cursed out loud. “Why would someone like that even talk with someone like me? Who am I but a lowly failure?” He paused his wheelchair in front of a partially cracked window that barely showed his passing reflection. “Fitting,” he huffed as he looked back at his own image. “Fading away and cracked down the middle…” He shook his head in disgust and wheeled onward. While his confidence from alcohol had seemingly evaporated, his overall drunken state still hadn’t. “Stupid accident… stupid party! If I had just stayed over or found my own ride, she would still be alive! Stupid! Stupid!” Patrick took another round of pills and then rolled his wheelchair down a particularly uneven sidewalk toward one of the distant bus stops. The dim lighting and his drunken state were too much though, and he missed a large crack in the sidewalk until his front wheel got caught in it. “Oh shit!” Patrick cried out when he realized the predicament that he had just gotten himself into. Unfortunately, no one was around to help him out so he tried as best he could to dislodge himself. It was no use, but he stubbornly persisted. It proved to be too much however, and his chair tipped over to the side after one of the larger lurches. “Ah! Damn it!” The wheelchair fell on the ground and Patrick sputtered out in front of it, landing with a dull thud on his head on a piece of the upturned sidewalk. In pain, disoriented, and still very drunk, Patrick looked about him for any signs of anyone that could help. Being a part of the old city that most were no longer frequenting, he reaffirmed that he was all alone. Now, Patrick had been diligent about his intermittent catheterization at the bar. It was mighty uncomfortable at times, but he had a routine. With his mild rejection and drunken state though, he had neglected to empty his bladder before he left. As such, the impact of the fall had caused the damn to burst, but Patrick still hadn’t noticed… until now as the urine encroached on his stomach. “Shit… did I fall in a puddle?” His head throbbed and his vision was becoming blurrier by the minute, but he quickly cocked his head down just to see the damage. To his horror though, all he saw was a wet spot emanating from his crotch and lower portion of his shirt. “Unbelievable…” Normally, he would have shaken it off and just gone home. He had a change of clothes in his still attached and nearby backpack, but the bump on his head and his inebriation were proving too much for his body to handle. Darkness began to overtake him and the last thing he saw was a pair of flashing lights and then a large white truck pulled up with ‘Oasis Opportunities’ plastered over the side. He could hear some distant shouting and the sound of footsteps, but he soon slipped out of consciousness and into a world of only darkness.

Welcome to "Winter Break on Wet Alert" – A Ski Trip with No Emergency Brake A ski holiday in St. Anton with the family's best friends should be a dream come true. Especially when you are 17, finally allowed to drink wine with the adults, and the girl you've been in love with since kindergarten is sleeping in the loft right next to you. It is the recipe for the perfect "coming-of-age" romance. But for Liam, it is the recipe for a social nightmare. He is fighting a secret that doesn't fit into the cool after-ski lifestyle: A body that fails him, and a bladder that lives a life of its own at night. What starts as a practical challenge involving discreet night diapers hidden in a gym bag, quickly spirals into an avalanche of control, lies, and humiliating revelations as the facade begins to crack. This is more than a story about an accident, I try to make it a "slow-burn" psychological thriller about power, helplessness, and the desperate struggle to maintain one's dignity while slowly being wrapped in cotton wool – and plastic. Meet the Families: Liam (17): The protagonist of the story. He is a typical teenager attempting to navigate the awkwardness of a family vacation while trying to appear independent and cool. He often hides inside his hoodie or behind a beanie and is currently balancing the tension of sharing a cabin with Mathilde, whom he has known since childhood and has secretly had a crush on since he was twelve. Sophie (17): The childhood friend Liam has secretly been in love with since he was twelve. She has grown from a playmate into a stunning young woman with messy blonde hair, often seen wearing oversized wool sweaters that make her look effortlessly cool. She shares the open loft space with Liam, sleeping on the mattress just a few feet away. Grace: Liam’s mother. She runs the family—and the vacation packing—with efficiency and a calm, controlled voice that leaves very little room for discussion. She is organized, persistent, and keeps a sharp eye on the logistics of the trip to ensure everything goes according to plan. James: Liam’s father. He is a somewhat conflict-avoidant man who prefers focusing on the skiing conditions or staring into his coffee cup rather than dealing with tension. He generally steps back and leaves the hard decisions and organization to Hanne. Claire: Sophie’s mother. She is practical, cheerful, and deeply involved in the domestic side of the cabin life, often found stirring a pot of stew or knitting in the sofa corner with Hanne. She has a direct, practical manner and treats all the "kids" with equal familiarity. Rob: Sophie’s father and the loud, wine-loving patriarch of the host family. He dominates the room with boisterous laughter and "alpha" energy, often walking around in boxers and a t-shirt in the mornings. He treats Liam with a mix of loud camaraderie and fatherly teasing. The Format: The story is planned as a long serial of approximately 50-60 chapters. Although the plot only spans a single, intense week in Austria, we get up close and personal. Every chapter dives deep into the details, the dialogue, and the small, claustrophobic moments where the balance of power tips. Expect a pace that allows room for both the romantic tension and the creeping horror of losing control over your own life. Sit back, put on a dry diaper (just for safety's sake), and enjoy the ride down the black slope. Prologue is coming up... __________________________________ Prologue: War Council at the Dining Table The sound of a zip being pulled up cut through the silence in the living room like a tear in the fabric. It was a sharp, metallic sound signalling an end, but for Liam, it sounded like the beginning of the end. The large black Nike holdall stood open on the dining table. Surrounding it were piles of wool jumpers, ski socks, and thermal long johns in neat stacks. But it wasn’t the clothes that caught the eye. It was the package lying isolated next to the bag. A square, soft package in dark blue plastic with the words DryNites printed across the front and a picture of a cartoon skater boy who looked far too cool to represent the contents. "We have to be realistic, Liam," said Grace. Her voice was calm, controlled—the voice she used when presenting unpleasant facts that were not up for discussion. She stood at the end of the table with her arms crossed, her gaze resting heavily on the package. "We can’t take the waterproof sheet. It’s out of the question." Liam sat on the chair opposite. He rocked on the back legs, a nervous tic he couldn’t stop. He had his hoodie pulled up around his ears, as if he could hide inside the fabric. "Why not?" he asked, hating how whiny his voice sounded. "That’s what we use at home. It works fine. I put it under the sheet, no one sees it." "At home, you sleep in your owace, taking a step forward. She placed her hand on the blue package. "We’ve been through this for four months now. Four months where the bed has been wet four out of seven days on average. You know the doctor said your body must be 'overloaded' and that you sleep so deeply the signal doesn’t get through. That’s fine. It’s a physiological condition. But we can’t ignore the statistics." She paused, and her gaze softened but became more insistent. "What is the scenario if we don’t take anything? What happens if you fall asleep after a long day of skiing, exhausted, maybe after a glass of wine, and then you wake up at three in the morning and the mattress is soaked? Right next to Sophie? What do you do then? Do you wake her? Do you carry the mattress down through the living room? How do you explain the smell in that small space?" Liam closed his eyes. The image was so clear and terrifying it made him nauseous. He saw Sophie waking up from the heat or the smell. He saw her face. "I’ll wake up," he said stubbornly, but without conviction. "I’ll set an alarm on my phone. Every three hours." "And wake up the whole chalet?" James shook his head. "That won’t work, Liam. Rob wakes up if a mouse farts in the basement. If your alarm goes off three times a night, it’ll be a holiday in hell for everyone." "Therefore," said Grace, sliding the package of DryNites across the tabletop towards him. "This is the only solution. It’s discreet. They’re silent under pyjamas. And they guarantee that the mattress—and your dignity—survives if an accident happens." Liam looked at the package as if it were radioactive. "I can’t wear them, Mum," he whispered. "Not up there. She’s lying right next to me. Imagine if she sees them? They’re... they’re night pants for kids, it’s a fucking diaper!" "It’s protection for young men who have a temporary problem," Grace corrected. "And we’ve practised this. We pack them. Right at the bottom of the bag. You put it on under the duvet when the lights are out. Or in the bathroom, if you can sneak out there. I really want to help you, you know? It requires planning, I know that. But the alternative is Russian roulette with a full bladder." Liam felt a familiar anger bubbling in his stomach. Anger at his own body. It had started in the autumn. First just once after a party. Then again. And suddenly it had become a thing. A secret that required washing machines running at night and strange, clinical conversations with a doctor who just talked about "immature nervous systems" and "deep REM sleep". They had tried fluid restrictions after 6 PM. They had tried voiding schedules. Nothing helped once he was asleep. And now this defective body had to go on holiday with the girl he had been in love with since they were in kindergarten. "I’ll take them," he said quietly, grabbing the package. He squeezed it hard, making the plastic yield. "But I’ll only put them on if I feel it’s absolutely necessary. If I’ve had a lot to drink. Or if I’m really tired." Grace and James exchanged a look. One of those parental looks that communicate volumes of worry in a split second. "Liam," said Grace gently. "The deal is that you wear them every night. We can’t take the chance with someone else’s mattress." "I said I’ll take them!" Liam snapped, standing up so quickly the chair scraped against the floor. "I’m packing them. Right at the bottom. I’ll hide them in a towel so no one can see what they are. Is that not enough?" Grace hesitated. She assessed him. She could see the desperation in his eyes. She knew that if she pushed him any further now, he might refuse to go. "Fine," she said slowly. "You pack them. Well hidden. But then you promise me one thing: If you feel the slightest uncertainty... if you are in the slightest doubt... then you use them. for my sake. For your dad’s sake. We don’t want to be explaining to Rob and Claire why their chalet smells of pee." "I’ve got it under control," Liam lied. He took the package. He walked over to the bag. He lifted the stack of hoodies. He placed the blue package right at the bottom, into the corner. He found a dark towel and wrapped it tightly around it so it looked like a washbag or a pair of shoes. Then he put the wool jumpers on top. The salopettes. The thermal underwear. Layer upon layer of normality burying the shame. He zipped up the bag. The sound was final this time. "There," he said, lifting the bag. It was heavy. Heavier than it should be. "Now we’re ready." James cleared his throat and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "It’ll be a good trip, lad. You’ll see, the fresh air will do you good. Maybe the problem will disappear on its own up there." Liam nodded stiffly. He knew better. The problem wouldn’t disappear. It was packed at the bottom of his bag, and it would travel with him all the way to Austria, like a ticking time bomb under the seat. "I’m going to bed," he said. He walked out of the living room without looking back. Grace remained standing by the table, staring at the spot where the bag had stood. "Do you think he’ll wear them when we get there?" asked James quietly. "No," said Grace, turning off the light over the dining table. "Or well, I don’t know... He’s so proud. So I think I’ll have to check every morning while we’re there, and then we just have to hope he soon puts a cork in that night bladder." Chapter 1: The Winter Palace The car's tyres crunched heavily against the packed snow as they rolled the final stretch up the steep driveway. The engine was cut, and a sudden, deafening silence settled over the cabin. It was that particular, muffled tranquillity found only in the Austrian Alps, where the snow swallows every sound. Liam sat in the back seat, leaning his forehead against the cold glass. Outside, the world was bathed in the blue-violet light of twilight. The chalet ahead of them wasn’t just a cabin; it was a massive two-storey log structure with large panoramic windows, where yellow light was already spilling out, landing in soft squares on the snow. The Thompson family had already arrived. Their black Audi was parked next to them, and smoke rose lazily from the chimney. "Here we are, chaps," said his dad, James, tapping the steering wheel with a gloved hand. "St. Anton. The adventure begins." Liam felt a lurch in his stomach. It was a mixture of expectant joy and that underlying, cold knot he had carried around the entire journey. He adjusted his beanie in the rear-view mirror, checked that the stubble on his chin looked right, and took a deep breath. You are here to ski. You are here to have a good time. You are 17 years old. Relax. He opened the car door, and the freezing mountain air hit him in the face like a wet towel. It smelled of pine needles and frost. He stepped out and stretched his legs while the cold nipped at his cheeks. "Liam, are you grabbing your own bag?" shouted his mum, Grace, from the boot. She was already organising the unpacking with the military efficiency she was known for. "And mind your back, it looks heavy." Liam walked round to the boot. His large, black Nike holdall was wedged in behind crates of food supplies. He gripped the handle and hoisted it out. It was heavy. Not just because of the ski boots and thick jumpers, but because of what lay right at the bottom, wrapped in an opaque bag and rolled tightly inside a towel. His secret cargo. His safety net. He swung the bag over his shoulder and straightened his back. As long as the bag was zipped shut, he was just Liam. The door to the chalet opened, and the sound of voices and laughter streamed out into the cold. "Is that the lost travellers?" Sophie stood in the doorway. Liam's heart skipped a beat, as it always did when he saw her. She had grown even more beautiful since the summer holidays. She was wearing a large, white wool jumper that made her look small and cosy, paired with tight black leggings. Her blonde hair was gathered in a messy bun, and she held a wine glass in her hand—probably just elderflower cordial, but the way she held it made it look elegant. "Hey Sophie," Liam said, flashing his best, crooked smile as he walked up the steps to the veranda. He tried to walk casually, even though the strap dug into his shoulder. "We just took the scenic route. You have to enjoy the view, right?" Sophie rolled her eyes but smiled broadly. "Classic James tactics. Come inside, it’s freezing." She stepped aside, and Liam walked into the warmth. The chalet smelled of woodsmoke and red wine sauce. The adults were already in full swing, hugging and exchanging stories about the drive in the hallway. It was chaos in a good way. Boots were kicked off, coats hung up. Liam and Sophie stood a little on the outskirts of the commotion. "So," Sophie said, sizing him up. Her gaze was direct, curious. "Are you ready to be left in the dust tomorrow? I’ve heard the pistes are absolutely perfect this year." "Left in the dust?" Liam laughed huskily. "You’ll be lucky if you see anything other than the spray from my skis when I fly past you." "We’ll see," she said, nudging his shoulder lightly. The touch burned through his jacket. "But seriously, it’s going to be brilliant. The oldies have taken the rooms on the ground floor, so we have the entire top floor to ourselves. Or, well, the loft." "The loft?" Liam repeated. "Yeah, come on. I’ll show you." She turned and started walking up the steep wooden staircase leading to the upper floor. Liam followed, bag still over his shoulder. He didn't dare put it down yet. Not until he knew where he was sleeping. Not until he had secured the territory. The loft had a low ceiling and was incredibly cosy. Sloping walls of light timber, a small round window in the gable looking out over the valley, and thick rugs on the floor. But what caught Liam's attention were the sleeping arrangements. There were two wide mattresses on the floor. They lay at opposite ends of the room, separated by a small communal area with a low sofa and a table, but there were no doors. No walls. It was one large room. "I’ve taken the one by the window," Sophie said, hopping onto one of the mattresses, which was already made up with a duvet and pillows. Her bag stood open next to it, with clothes strewn about a bit. "So you can have the den over there." She pointed towards the mattress at the opposite end, nestled under the lowest part of the sloping roof. It was a cosy nook, but it also felt... exposed. "Fine," said Liam. He walked over to his mattress and set the bag down. He did it carefully, terrified that something might clink or rattle, even though there were only soft parcels inside. "It looks... cosy." "Doesn't it?" Sophie leaned back on her elbows and looked at him. "No parents. No big sisters. Just us." Liam nodded and started taking off his jacket. He could feel sweat trickling down his back. The heat from the wood-burning stove downstairs was rising to the ceiling. "Are you planning on standing there sweating in full gear, or are you going to unpack?" she asked teasingly. Liam hesitated. He looked at his bag. The zip was closed. He knew exactly where the package was. At the bottom. Under three hoodies and his thermal long johns. If he opened the bag now, while she lay there watching, would she be able to see it? No, it was wrapped up. But just the thought of moving things around while she observed him made his stomach turn. On the other hand, it would seem odd if he didn't unpack. They were staying here for a week. "I’ll unpack later," he said, sitting on the edge of the mattress. "Right now, I just need to sit down. The drive was long." "Fair enough." Sophie stood up and walked over to the small window. "Come and have a look. You can see the lights from the après-ski bars over there." Liam stood up and walked over to her. They stood side by side, looking out into the darkness where the floodlit pistes glowed like golden scars on the mountainside. He could smell her perfume—vanilla and something fresh. She stood close to him. So close that their arms almost touched. "It’s going to be a good week, Liam," she said softly, without looking at him. "Yeah," he replied, daring to relax his shoulders a tiny bit for the first time. "It really is." From downstairs came the sound of laughter and clinking glasses. His mother’s voice cut through. "Liam! Sophie! There’s hot chocolate and scones if you’re hungry!" Sophie sighed theatrically but smiled. "Duty calls. Shall we go down and be social before they think we’re up to no good?" Liam smiled back. For a moment, everything felt normal. He was just a guy on a ski holiday with a cute girl. The bag lay on the bed behind him, zipped and safe. "After you," he said. Chapter 2: Adults in the Snow The smell of slow-cooked stew had spread throughout the chalet, mingling with the dry heat from the wood-burning stove. It was a heavy, spiced scent of beef, red wine, and juniper berries that Sophie’s mum, Claire, had left simmering in a pot for most of the afternoon before they arrived. Liam sat at the end of the long plank table. He had been given the seat next to Sophie. On the other side sat his dad, James, who was already flushed in the cheeks after two glasses of Amarone and the heat from the fire. "Cheers to the chalet!" James exclaimed, raising his glass. "And cheers to getting the roof box on without scratching the paintwork this year!" A cheerful laugh went around the table. Liam grabbed his own glass. There was red wine in it. It was one of those unspoken transitions; on previous holidays, he and Sophie had been given Coke while the adults drank wine. This year, they had just been poured a glass without question. A silent rite of passage. He was one of them now. He clinked glasses with Sophie. The glass made a clear, singing sound. "Cheers," she said, smiling over the rim of her glass. Her eyes caught the light from the candles on the table. "Do you think you can handle it? Amarone is heavy fuel for tomorrow." "I run better on premium unleaded," Liam replied cheekily and took a sip. The wine was heavy, warm, and slightly astringent in his mouth. He didn't actually like red wine all that much, but he loved the feeling of sitting here, glass in hand, being part of this. He took another sip, a slightly larger one this time. In the back of his mind, right at the back of his lizard brain, a small red warning light blinked. Fluid. Alcohol. Bedtime. He knew the rules. He knew he should be drinking water, and preferably stop drinking altogether now; it was past eight o'clock. But he couldn't sit here sipping tap water while Sophie teased him and the adults told tall tales. It would be checking out. It would be being a child. "Liam, pass the potatoes, would you?" asked Grace. Liam shook the thoughts away and passed the dish. His mum sat opposite him. She ate calmly, listening to Claire’s story about a colleague who had had a breakdown from stress, nodding sympathetically. She seemed completely normal. Not like a guard, not like an "inspector". Just a mum on holiday. But then he caught her eye as she took the dish. It was fleeting. She looked at his wine glass, then at him, and then back at her plate. She said nothing. She didn't raise an eyebrow. But Liam heard it anyway. Is that wise, Liam? He felt an urge to put the glass down, but defiance flared up in him. He wouldn't be controlled by her gaze. He wouldn't be the patient at this table. He demonstratively took a large bite of the meat and smiled at Sophie. "So, Sophie," said Rob, Sophie’s dad, leaning back. "Have you told Liam about your big plan?" Sophie blushed slightly—a becoming colour on her pale cheeks. "Dad, stop it." "What plan?" asked Liam curiously. "She wants to do a season next year," Rob rumbled proudly. "Austria. The whole winter. She’s been saving up for two years." Liam looked at her with new respect. "Seriously? That’s... actually pretty cool." "It’s just an idea," she said quickly, but he could see the glint in her eyes. "I thought... well, if I don’t know what I want to do after sixth form anyway, I might as well ski and make some money doing it." "Sounds like the dream," said Liam. And he meant it. But at the same time, a cold, heavy realisation hit him right in the solar plexus. A whole season in Austria? Sleeping in dorms, sharing rooms with strangers, drinking beer every night, no privacy? For Sophie, it was a dream. For him, it would be a logistical hell. An impossibility. He suddenly felt like a fraud. He sat here looking like someone who could go with her. Someone who fit into that dream. But beneath the surface, and at the bottom of that Nike bag up in the loft, reality lay waiting. "You could come too," Sophie said suddenly, nudging him under the table with her knee. "You’re good enough on skis. We could be instructor buddies." Liam laughed, but the laughter didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, definitely. That would be sick." "It just requires being able to get up early," Grace interjected. Her voice was mild, conversational. "And being able to fend for yourself. It’s hard work, you know. No 'room service' from Mum." It was an innocent comment to everyone else. A joke about teenagers who can't do laundry. But to Liam, it was a precise, surgical reminder. You can't fend for yourself. You need me. The mood shifted as the plates were cleared, and the board game Ludo was brought out. It was a tradition. Liam and Sophie against the dads. The mums preferred to sit on the sofa with a cup of tea (and more wine) and talk. The game was intense. Liam was good at the tactical side. He and Sophie had a natural rhythm; they understood each other without words, trading glances and blocking their fathers with delightful malice. "You’re evil, Liam!" shouted James as Liam knocked his piece home just before the finish line. "It’s called strategy, old man," Liam replied, giving Sophie a high-five. Her hand was warm and soft against his. It was nearing half-past eleven when the game finished (with a crushing victory for the youth). Fatigue began to set in within the chalet. The fire in the stove had burned down to embers. "Right, I give up," said Rob, stretching until his joints cracked. "I need to be fresh for the slopes. Night, kids. Night, darling." "Night," the group mumbled in chorus. There was that break-up atmosphere where people look for their phones and glasses need to go in the dishwasher. Liam stood up. The heat and the wine made him a little dizzy. Reality returned like a cold breath. Up in the loft, the bag still stood unopened. He hadn't set out his "safety net". He hadn't found a place to change. And Sophie was going up there. Right now. "I think I’ll head up too," said Sophie, rubbing her eyes. She looked sleepy and soft. "Are you brushing your teeth first, Liam, or shall I grab the bathroom?" Liam looked at his watch, then at the bathroom door, and then at his mum, who was busy blowing out the candles. If he let Sophie go to the bathroom first, he would be alone in the loft for maybe ten minutes. Ten minutes to open the bag, find the package, and... do what? Hide it under the pillow? Put it on? No, not up there. But if he took the bathroom first, he would have to take his things out there. What if she saw? "You just take it," he said quickly. "I just need to... I just need to find my charger in my bag first." "Cool. See you up there." She smiled, grabbed her washbag, and disappeared into the bathroom, humming. Liam was left standing in the living room. His mum blew out the last candle and turned to him. In the semi-darkness, her face was hard to read. "Liam," she said quietly. The others had gone into their rooms. They were alone. "You drank quite a lot at dinner." "It was two glasses, Mum. Relax." "And Coke," she added. "I’m just saying. You know what that means for the night. Have you got it under control? Do you want me to come up and help you get the 'bed ready' once Sophie is asleep?" The offer hung in the air. It was a lifebuoy, but it was made of lead. If he said yes, he accepted that she would creep around up there in the dark while he lay there like a child. If he said no, he was on his own with a bladder full of liquid and a bag full of secrets. "I’ll do it myself," he replied. "Okay, fair enough," said his mum, stroking his arm. "Sleep tight." Chapter 3: Under the Duvet Liam lay completely still. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but it didn't help much. The loft was a black box, broken only by the faint blue glow of the moon filtering through the small round window, tracing a square on the floor between the two mattresses. Three metres away lay Sophie. Her breathing had become heavy and regular. A faint, rhythmic sound that should have been soothing, but to Liam, it sounded like the countdown on a bomb. Every time she inhaled, he froze. Every time she exhaled, he relaxed a millimetre. He took a deep breath through his nose and gently lifted the duvet a fraction with his left hand to create a small tent. The air inside was warm and heavy with his own body heat. He grabbed the DryNites diaper that lay next to his pillow. The material felt foreign against his fingers. It was dry, papery, and thick. A sharp contrast to the soft cotton sheet. He squeezed it. It made a sound. Crr-rritch. The sound wave cut through the silence like a whip crack. Liam stiffened, his heart hammering against his ribs. He stared over at Sophie’s mattress. She stirred. An arm slid out from under her duvet, and she mumbled something unintelligible before turning onto her side. Facing him. Liam held his breath until his lungs burned. She slept on. Okay. Slowly. Ultra-slowly. He pushed the diaper down along his body, under the duvet, until it reached his hips. Now came the hardest part. The logistics. He was wearing jeans. Tight, black jeans. And because the diaper was a pull-up—a pair of "pyjama pants"—he had to have everything off from the waist down to put them on. He couldn't just pull his trousers down to his ankles; he needed his feet free. He bent his legs up under him so his knees pointed towards the ceiling and lifted the duvet. He grabbed the waistband of his jeans. The button was easy enough. The zip was the problem. He gripped the small metal tab of the zip with two fingers and began to pull it down, millimetre by millimetre. Zzz... Pause. Zzz... Pause. It felt like it took an hour. When the zip was finally down, he started wiggling his hips from side to side to shimmy the trousers down over his backside. The friction between the denim and the mattress made a dragging, whispering sound. He got the trousers down to his knees. Then to his ankles. Now he lay tangled in a knot of duvet, jeans, and his own legs. He needed to get his feet out of the trouser legs. He kicked gently with his right foot. His heel caught on the hem. He kicked again, a little harder. His foot broke free and hit the guard rail with a dull thud. "Mmm...?" The sound came from Sophie. Liam froze in an absurd position: One foot in the air, the other still trapped in his trousers, half-naked under the duvet, bathed in sweat. "Liam?" Her voice was thick with sleep, husky. "Yeah?" he whispered back. His voice cracked. "Are you okay? You’re making noise..." "Sorry," he whispered quickly. "I... I just turned over. Hit my foot. Go back to sleep." There was silence for five seconds. Five eternities. "Okay... night..." she mumbled, pulling the duvet up around her ears again. Liam lay completely still for two minutes while sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down into his eyes. He was so close to being exposed. If she turned on the light now... if she sat up to see what he was doing... He waited until her breathing became deep again. Then he finished the manoeuvre. He freed his left foot. He pushed the jeans all the way down to the foot of the bed with his toes. Then he pulled off his boxers. Now he lay naked under the duvet. Vulnerable. The warm air suddenly felt cold. He fumbled in the dark for the diaper. He found it. He opened it up, stuck his feet through the leg holes. And then he pulled up. The sensation was the worst part. The moment the soft, padded material slid up over his thighs and enclosed his groin. It was the feeling of defeat. It was the feeling of stepping out of the role of a 17-year-old guy and into the role of... something else. He pulled it all the way up over his hips. The elastic sides tightened around his waist. It sat high, much higher than his boxers. The thick, absorbent core pressed against his crotch and filled the space between his legs. It felt enormous. As if he had a cushion between his legs. He lay down again and stretched out his legs. Crinkle. Crunch. The sound came from him. From the diaper. Every time he moved his thighs against each other, the plastic outer layer made a faint, rustling sound. He lay stiff as a board. He was wearing the "armour" now. He was safe. If he wet himself in his sleep, the bed would remain dry. But the price was that he now lay next to the girl he was in love with, wearing a diaper. He rummaged around at the foot of the bed with his toes until he got hold of his boxers. He pulled them up over the diaper along with his pyjama bottoms and checked his phone before sliding it back under his pillow. He left the jeans in a pile at the bottom of the bed. He closed his eyes. Exhaustion was threatening to overpower him, but the awareness of the thick padding between his legs kept him awake. He was safe. But he wasn't free. He turned carefully onto his side, facing away from Sophie, and pulled the duvet all the way up over his ears to muffle the sound of crinkling plastic. Outside, the snow was still falling. Inside, Liam fell asleep to the sound of his own breathing and the feeling of being wrapped in secrets.

I’ve chosen to revisit the story Sally’s Growth because of its controversial ending. This time, I’m offering a new one. I’ve spent a long time thinking about the story I wrote—and why I wrote it. While the original ending was described by some as “Greek drama,” one of my deeper influences is actually Russian drama. It’s rooted in realism, psychology, social critique, and spiritual struggle. It asks hard questions: How should we live? What does suffering mean? Its characters don’t battle the gods; they wrestle with themselves, with their nation, and with their conscience. There’s a persistent search for beauty, love, and meaning—even in chaos. Redemption is never guaranteed, but it’s always pursued. That said, the ending was disappointing. I get it. It disappointed me too—mainly because it left too much unresolved. For instance, how would Sally now relate to Katrina, Clara, and Erika in her changed situation? Over time, I kept circling these questions, running “what if” scenarios in my mind. Eventually, they grew into something more solid—and that’s what I’m sharing now. Someone once commented that the ending of Sally’s Growth felt like a dream sequence. They wished Sally would wake up. I’m not going down that road. Instead, I’m picking up the story where it ended: Sally dies—but then she doesn’t. And from there, the story continues. (Spoiler: Nobody dies in this story) I’m posting Chapter 97 as a continuation under this new direction. New readers may want to check out Sally’s Growth in the Completed Stories archive before diving in. I suggest you read until Chapter 96, then begin here. Your comments mean a lot. I depend on them.

This is my first story posting on here. I would love to hear your comments on what you liked and future ideas! Let me know if you have any critiques or suggestions. I'm still figuring out the formatting here. Bradley's Diaper Punishment (Humiliation at Walmart) Chapter 1 Bradley’s heart pounded as he walked in the kitchen, the morning sunlight streaming through the windows and casting a warm glow on the tiled floor. The air smelled faintly of coffee and toast, but all he could focus on was the dampness between his legs and the way his diaper sagged uncomfortably under his pajama pants. Bradley was 18 years old and a senior in high school. He lived with his stepmother and stepsister. Bradley was a very short and scrawny teenager. Puberty has yet to come to Bradley, he had no hair other than the hair on his head. He was small down there, something he was very embarrassed about. His stepsister and stepmother were much taller and stronger than him. His stepmother, Michelle, stood there in her perfectly pressed summer dress, her arms crossed. Katie, his stepsister was in the same grade as him in school. Katie loved to tease Bradley. She loved to joke about letting his bedwetting secret slip to the whole school. There were already rumors floating around about his bedwetting chart. Katie was much more mature than he was. Bradley always seemed to show a strong lack of responsibility and obedience. The opposite of Katie. Katie leaned lazily against the counter, her long legs stretched out in her usual nighttime attire—cute high-cut panties that showed off her butt and a top that clung to her slender body. Bradley hated how she loved to flaunt her lack of need for diapers by showing off her mature panties. A constant reminder of his own humiliating need for diapers at night. She smirked at him, her eyes flicking down toward his waistline. “Good morning, Bradley,” Michelle said in that tone—the one that always made him feel like he was five years old. Her voice was sweet but laced with authority, the kind that brooked no argument. “Come here, let me check your diaper.” Bradley hesitated, his cheeks burning. God, why does she have to do this? Why can’t I just take it off in my bedroom and tell her? But he knew better than to do that. Ever since he’d lied about being dry, Michelle had insisted on checking his diaper every morning herself. No matter what she was in the middle of doing, where she was, or who was there. He had to find her and let her check him before he was allowed to remove his diaper. And in the kitchen, with Katie standing there, it felt even more humiliating. They were in the same grade and he was treated so much differently than her. Bradley’s stomach dropped. He hated this routine. His feet dragged as he approached her. Katie’s eyes followed him, a smirk playing on her lips. He could already hear the teasing remarks forming in her mind. He was lucky she hasn't gone around school telling everyone about his embarrassing secret. At least not that he knows of. Michelle knelt down, and sighed impatiently gesturing for him to turn around. He did, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Katie let out a little laugh, and he shot her a glare, but she just giggled. “Relax, Brad,” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you in diapers before.” Michelle ignored her and tugged at the waistband of Bradley’s pajama pants, pulling them down just enough to reveal the white diaper underneath. Bradley’s entire body tensed, his breath catching in his throat. Her fingers moved quickly, pressing against the diaper to check for wetness. When she found it, she clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Wet again,”Michelle sighed heavily, pulling his pajama bottoms back up before straightening up and wiping her hands on a nearby dish towel. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with you, Bradley. You’re 18 years old. This is ridiculous! Maybe I should just give up and start putting you to bed right after dinner in your diaper like the baby you are acting like” The threat made Bradley plead, “I’m trying,” he stammered, his voice strained. “I really am.” “Well, trying clearly isn’t enough,” Michelle replied, her tone hardening. “You’re 18 years old, Bradley. This is embarrassing for all of us.” Michelle marked the potty chart with a big red frowny face sticker on today's date. The chart was covered in red frowny faces for accidents. There were a few green happy faces scattered here and there, but they were rare. Too rare. Katie let out a quiet laugh, stepping closer, peering over Michelle’s shoulder at the chart. “Wow, Brad,” she said, her voice teasing. “Another frowny face for the bed-wetter. You’re really on a roll this week.” Bradleys face turned hot, “Shut up, Katie,” he muttered, though his voice lacked any real force. He hated the stupid potty chart that had been hanging there for months now, a constant reminder of his failures. It was bad enough that Michelle recorded every accident, but knowing that anyone who walked into their kitchen could see it—would see it—was unbearable. He was sure one of Katies friends saw it and blabbed to someone at his school. How else would the rumors at school got started? Bradley’s eyes flicked to Katie, who was now openly smirking at him. He hated her. He hated the the way Katie always seemed to be standing there, watching, smirking, like she enjoyed seeing him humiliated. He hated the diapers, the checks, the way Michelle treated him like he was still a little child, like he was incapable of doing anything on his own. “Michelle,” he started, his voice trembling. “Can’t I just tell you, do you really have to check me every morning? I’m not a baby.” Michelle turned to him, her eyes narrowed, for a moment, he thought she might yell at him. But instead, she set the stickers down and put her hands on her hips. “Bradley, we’ve been over this before, you know the rules. No taking off your diaper until I’ve checked you. . You lied to me before, remember? I have to make sure you’re being honest.” He wanted to argue, to scream that he was an adult and didn’t need this kind of treatment, but the threat of a spanking hung over him like a dark cloud. Michelle didn’t tolerate backtalk, and she had no problem carrying through on her threats. Bradley had learned that the hard way. “Go change out of your soaked diaper, shower quickly, then put on your big boy underwear,” Michelle instructed, “We’re going grocery shopping soon.” Bradley’s heart sank. He hated grocery shopping with Michelle. It was just another opportunity for her to treat him like a child in public. He glanced at Katie, who was clearly interested in his plight. “Can’t I just stay home?” he asked, his voice wavering slightly. He hated how desperate he sounded, but the thought of spending hours in the store with Michelle was unbearable. Michelle’s gaze hardened. “No, you can’t stay home. I don’t trust you alone, and Katie has plans with her friend. You’re coming with me.” Katie walked over to the dishwasher, showing off her big girl underwear, as she bent low to load her plate. “Yeah, I’m meeting Ashley at the mall. We’re going to try on new dresses, then come back here and tan. Prom is just around the corner” she said, shooting Bradley a sly grin. “But don’t worry, baby brother. I’m sure you’ll have fun picking out cereal and diapers.” Bradley glared at her, his fists trembling at his sides. “I’m not a baby, I don't want to go,” he plead. Michelle placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip firm. “Bradley, do I need to remind you what happens when you argue?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. Bradley swallowed hard, his defiance crumbling. “No, ma’am,” he muttered, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Good,” Michelle said, her tone softening slightly. “Now go take a shower and change into your big boy underwear ,” she ordered. “We need to leave soon and don’t forget to go potty before we leave I don't need you embarrassing me and having accident again.” Katie burst out laughing, her amusement clear. “Go potty,” she mimicked in a high-pitched voice, her laughter echoing in the kitchen. Bradley’s face burned. He hated when they brought that up and winced at the memory. He was so embarrassed when he’d had an accident during the day a month ago, right in the middle of the living room. Katie had teased him mercilessly for weeks afterward, and Michelle had made him wear pull ups during the day as a “precaution” until the whole package was gone. He didn’t think he’d ever live it down. Bradley glared at her, but there was nothing he could say. He turned left the kitchen, the weight of his humiliation pressing down on him. As he reached the stairs, he heard Katie call after him, her voice sing-song and cruel. “Don’t forget to rinse really well, baby boy! You wouldn’t want to smell of pee at the store!” Upstairs, Bradley slammed the bathroom door shut behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he tried to steady his breathing. The mirror across the room reflected his red-faced frustration, and he looked away, unable to meet his own gaze. Stripping off the wet diaper, he tossed it into the trash bin with more force than necessary before stepping into the shower. The water was lukewarm, doing little to soothe his anger. He scrubbed at his skin as if he could wash away the shame, the helplessness. But no matter how hard he tried, he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Not as long as Michelle insisted on treating him like this. Not as long as Katie kept mocking him. By the time he stepped out of the shower, his skin was red and raw, but he still didn’t feel clean. He didn’t want to go grocery shopping. But he didn’t have a choice. Michelle had made that clear. Dressing quickly, he pulled on a pair of his briefs. They were a little small on him and had cartoon characters all over them. They were very juvenile, but that's all Michelle would buy him, another thing Bradley hated. He put on his jeans, his hands trembling as he buttoned them, and grabbed a plain T-shirt, avoiding anything that might draw attention. As he put it on, the memory of Katie’s laughter echoed in his mind, fueling his resentment. Bradley shuffled downstairs, his heart heavy with dread. Michelle was already waiting by the door, her summer dress perfectly pressed, her hair brushed to a flawless shine, and her purse slung over one shoulder. As he approached, she gave him a stern look and reached into her bag, pulling out her hairbrush. Bradley froze mid-step, his eyes locked on the offending object. “Just a reminder,” Michelle said, her voice calm but edged with warning. “If you act up at the store, I will use this. Do you understand?” Bradley nodded quickly, his cheeks burning. “Yes, ma’am,” he groaned. Katie was at the top of the stairs behind him laughing at the threat, Michelle never spanked her. She leaned against the banister with a smirk. She was still in her bedtime outfit—nothing but a top and a pair of revealing panties—and she looked far too pleased with herself. "Don’t forget to go potty before you leave, Bradley," she called, her voice dripping with mock concern. "We wouldn’t want another accident, would we?" She said as she passed him, flaunting her panties. “I already went,” he lied quickly, desperate to avoid another humiliation. Katie leaned against the kitchen counter, grinning wickedly. “Sure you did, baby. Just like you ‘went’ last time, right before you peed your pants.” Bradley clenched his fists at his sides, but he didn’t say anything. Arguing with Katie only ever made things worse. Michelle raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Are you sure?” Her tone sounded like she was asking a toddler who was doing the potty dance. “I’m sure,” Bradley stammered, trying to get the embarrassing conversation over with. His cheeks were burning. Why did she have to ask him that? He wasn’t a child. Katie giggled, the sound grating on his nerves. “Mom, maybe you should just put him in one of his nighttime diapers before you go out. You know, just in case.” Michelle tilted her head considering it for a moment, “that's not a bad idea.” Bradley's jaw dropped, his eyes wide, he couldn't believe she was actually considering it. “No, he can wear his big boy underwear today. But Bradley,” she added, turning her full attention back to him, “if you have an accident at the store, you’ll be in big trouble. Do you understand?” “I’m not going to have an accident,” he snapped, his frustration boiling over. “I’m not a baby!” Katie snickered and Michelle’s eyes narrowed, she stepped closer, her presence looming. “Don’t talk back, young man. Now are you going to be a good boy for me on our shopping trip and not embarrass me?” Bradley’s face flushed crimson. He wanted to argue, to scream that he was eighteen, for God’s sake, but he knew better. Michelle didn’t tolerate defiance. Instead, he clenched his fists and nodded his head, his jaw tight. “Good,” she said, smoothing her dress. “Now, let’s go. And remember, Bradley, if you misbehave, I’ve got my hairbrush right here.” She patted her purse for emphasis, and Bradley’s stomach twisted.

Warning As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established 'Diaper Dimension.' These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Breastfeeding Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Humiliation Giants, aka, Amazons or Bigs Predominantly female domination (some male) Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Experimentation on humans Kidnapping Coerced or manipulated actions through possible means of white lies, gas lighting, or incentives Mild language or use of explitives Depictions of death, illness, or handicaps Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings Corruption, abuse of power, and shady dealings This story has not been labeled as mature, however, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. Previously... Before we begin, I just wanted to add this little blurb. For those interested, the first installment of this trilogy can be located in the link after, but for those who just want a quick refresher, I have the following: https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/88699-a-walk-into-the-unknown-a-diaper-dimension-story-chapter-25-complete/ In a bargain with Psyche New Beginnings, a subsidiary of Oasis Opportunities and Juventas, Patrick Henderson traveled to the so-called Diaper Dimension. In exchange for five years living under an Amazon, or more commonly known as a ‘Big,’ through the advanced medical research and knowledge of the other dimension, they would reverse his paralyzed legs condition, a result of a guilt-laden drive that forced him into a wheelchair five years prior and claimed the life of his mother as well. Under the loving guidance of Nurse Addy Pepperidge, Patrick interviewed several Big candidates to be his caregiver while he attended therapy to ease his guilt and help him walk again. Over the course of three months, he began to walk again and though dodging many unsavory potential caregivers and an evil scientist, he soon found himself embroiled in a plot to force him into an unwilling permanent babyhood. Through the shady and underground dealings of the facility, Patrick was able to be rescued, though in the end with the loss of some of his maturity and nearly all the maturity of his similarly captured friend. Electing another two caregivers with his friend, however, Patrick learned self-acceptance of his current life and even served as ring bearer on the day his two new caregivers were eventually married. Now, faced with a new candidate, Nurse Addy Pepperidge strives to find her own Little as she balances her needs after losing a previous Little, Mindy, the needs of Psyche New Beginnings, and the sinister underhanded plot growing ever so steadily from behind closed doors. Hey everyone! Happy New Year and welcome back! At the beginning of this story, I just want to note that as likely you see below, I’m dividing this story up into sections, three to be exact. Part of this is simply due to the story structure and a little bit as an homage to the first story in this trilogy, but I also want to do something different this time. Instead of barreling through this story all at once, at the end of each section (so two times), I will be taking at least a week-long break. I hope this will prevent the burnout, frustration, and the overwhelming pressure I put on myself normally, as well as a chance to catch up on future chapters, plot points, and ensure that the story is going where I want it to. Considering there are three sections and right now at least ten chapters per section, I think this will be a good thing. So… at the end of each section, I will give you all a more definitive date when the next section will be posted. Next, despite my hesitation from my last story, I’m still willing to put up a poll for my next story at least. I might rethink that after this one depending on how this story is received/how I feel about it, but for now, be on the lookout for a poll come the next chapter or so. I’m still debating which stories I should place in the poll this time, so if anyone has a specific request, please let me know. Also, for anyone continuing off my last story might recall, or for anyone new to this one, I am debating whether or not I should create a wiki of sorts for the Diaper Dimension. There’s frankly a lot of information out there, which makes sense considering it’s a whole other world, but things are getting hard to keep up with, and while I love my reference guide, I know it can be a bit tricky looking things up from my own personal experience these days. So… I basically want to use a pretty basic wiki-like site where you can navigate through these various aspects. I think it could also help with some of the maps I’ve created, and as a bonus, most anyone signed in can edit the pages, so for new writings, they can be added quickly. But… it is a bit of a lift, so, if no one actually wants this, I want to know first before I dive into yet another project. As such, linked below, I have a poll with different options you can select with the add-on this time of comments being possible as well. https://strawpoll.com/poy9kDaNpgJ Now… last but not least and as usual, I hope everyone enjoys this first chapter of my new story! Part 1: New Beginnings, Same Story Chapter 1: A Familiar Path… Sometimes Addy sat at her desk by her window and looked out over the horizon, hoping for a new chance… a new possibility to find happiness here. She always felt that way on move-in day and thought that feeling would never go away working here at Psyche New Beginnings. A nurse that had graduated at the top of her class and already had a number of years under her belt here and with connections on the board, she was dedicated to Psyche New Beginnings, Juventas, and their purposeful mission here. She wasn’t one of the more fair-weather nurses coming in here to solely find their Little and blow out of here just as quickly as they had arrived. But she was a Big, and simply put, Bigs wanted a Little in their life. It was biological… something deep in all Bigs when it came to Littles… doubly so when it came to portal Littles. Maybe it was the fact that they all seemed so helpless on their less advanced and comparatively dirty Earth, but each portal Little was essentially catnip to any Big they came across over here. Most Bigs could control it, but for others… Addy shook her head and looked back out her window. Those types of Bigs… the ones that go overboard and hurt their Little to ensure their compliance… she just never could stand them. She was a nurse after all and felt strongly there was just something wrong about hurting Littles to make them the ‘perfect Little.’ Working here was a fine line for sure, but her charges never left broken or upset if she could help it. And that was the other part of all this. She was a nurse and she wanted to help them. There was a noble service to all this, and while there will always be that one tough case, seeing all the Littles choose their caregivers on selection day is a scene that one would have to see to believe. No disease or dismemberment… just smiles and hugs… and all that starts from day one, aka, move-in day. So, when she looked out and saw the bus pull up once more to the gate in the distance, she practically jumped out of her seat to see her new arrivals as they came. Checking her files once more, she couldn’t wait to meet either of the two assigned to her. Excited and taking the time to have vetted them personally, she knew just about everything there was to know about her two new patients. Even after weeks of combing over their files, seeing their names still caused a little flutter to arise in her heart. ‘Franklin and Mindy…’ Dashing downstairs, she stopped right at the entrance and adjusted her scrubs and made sure she didn’t have a single hair out of place. The first day was always plain scrubs and her pink set had become a sort of tradition after wearing the same after her last four patients. “Good arrivals this time, Addy?” Penny questioned Addy while adjusting her bracelet once more. “I think so. Always hard to tell the ins and out, you know?” Addy sighed, remembering back to a few of her more unsavory patients since she had come here. They were rare and they still left happy… but the journey to get them there hadn’t exactly been easy. “I always just hope for two happy Littles by the end. You?” “Oh, I go in for something a little different…” Penny mused, now applying some last-minute touch-ups to her makeup. “I kind of like seeing the little one’s regress and all. Bigger they are… the harder they fall. Always love seeing those first moments when they lose control…” Addy didn’t want to raise a stink… especially with the Littles arriving any second now, but it didn’t prevent a slight scowl from forming over her face either. She managed to hide it before Penny could see, but a distaste still lingered in her mind about her coworker. Littles were lost and scared and weak and confused… but for her, that just meant they needed more care… more love… more patience. Not everyone believed the same she knew… but a fellow nurse loving when a Little regressed just felt wrong to her. Still, sighing a little, the final nurse soon joined just as the shuttle from the portal hub screeched to a halt outside. “Okay ladies…” Dr. Halgen noted, her eyes scanning each of her nurses carefully. “I want this batch tended to and toured before dinner. Keep it simple and show them the ropes and nothing more. They’re here for three months and details can be touched later. Understood?” “Yes, ma’am!” they all chanted in unison. Satisfied, Dr. Halgen let out a little smirk and nodded curtly before disappearing back into her office… now awaiting each new Little to be briefed about all the finer details of the contract they all signed willingly. Through the glass, Addy could see the Littles already disembarking. As Dr. Halgen readied her performance of intimidation for the new Littles behind her closing door to her office, Addy elected to prep her cheeriness and smile for her new arrivals. Justifying it to herself over and over, she felt that she and whatever cure they were offering the littles here were the metaphorical carrots to this place while all the other regressions, punishments, intimidations, and tiny points of fear were most definitely the sticks. So, if she was going to be the carrot to these poor fragile Littles, she felt it was best to be the best carrot she could. Just as the lift could be heard outside, the nurses began filing out one at a time to greet their Littles. Taking a breath, Addy followed right behind and soon began to search for the memorized faces of her two new charges. The first she found was Franklin. Late-stage AIDS, he was a holdout from another time on Earth. With most diseases now cured and that disease nearly eradicated, Franklin got the short end of the stick when it turned out he was highly allergic to the cure that Earth currently possessed. His gaunt form and lesions were a testament to another time and Addy made sure to shake his hand carefully as he shuffled over to her and the other nurses. “Franklin…” she said, coming up to him. “I’m Addy. I’m going to be your nurse while you’re here. It’s good to finally meet you.” He coughed for a second and then shakily held his hand out to greet her back. “Good… to meet you… Addy…” She smiled and gladly shook his outstretched hand. “Perfect. In a second, I’ll get you inside, give you a tour… show you around and then you can meet with our director here for a little orientation. Sound good?” Struggling to say anything without coughing, Franklin eventually just nodded. Addy’s heart went out to him, and she quickly made a mental note to adjust his environmental controls and priorities of treatment here to fix his breathing. Problems there could mean problems down the line and prevention of him from having fun while the others zoomed around him on the playground in the second and third month here. After a moment, as the others began to filter into the facility, Addy began to look around for her second Little… Mindy. “Hmmm… wonder where she is…” “Oh… the other girl? Wheelchair?” Franklin quickly managed to ask before coughing once more. “I think so.” Addy got a lot about them, but seating arrangements on the shuttle were usually random, as well as the order in which they got off… unless they were wheelchair-bound. “Oh… there she is.” The last one off, the dark-haired Little slowly was pushed over to Franklin and her by the bus driver. Only nodding before getting back on his bus, Addy could only gawk at the Little now before her and the two sides she was now seeing. One was why she was here… wheelchair, IV bag, gaunt, pale… a stiff breeze looked like it could knock her down. The other though, shone out against all that. Colorful clothing, little stickers, wide eyes, and a big bright green beanie in the shape of a frog complete with two eyes sticking out at the top. In one word… adorable. “H… hi…” the Little managed to squeak out. Addy almost had to slap herself to not just go over and hug the Little right away. Instead, she remembered her training and smiled wide. “Hello there. And you must be Mindy…” * * * “Mindy!” Addy awoke back in her room in her rocking chair, apparently having fallen asleep around midday in a nap of some kind. Wanting to distance herself from this place after her last patients a little, she had taken a long vacation and saw several countries and relaxed on multiple beaches… and endured one long flight back just a few days ago. She never could shake off jet lag… And frankly, between that and knowing what was ahead of her today, she almost didn’t want to be here now. It’s probably why she was thinking of Mindy… once again. Back then, she was full of hope and optimism. She had her heart broken a few times before then for sure, but after Mindy and Patrick and Cara and at least a half dozen others she had truly bonded with… it was hard to feel that way anymore. Looking outside, the weather almost seemed to mimic her own dour attitude today. With the way these things moved, she had skipped a month and was now back… but in January and at the start of a new year. A little over a week ago, she was just leaving one of the beaches in Itali to meet with her dad for Christmas. It was worth it to see him again… but now in the state of Crescentia in the winter. Well, the weather left a lot to be desired… Getting out of her chair, she stretched wide and looked around, choosing to focus on her wall of success. Each Little there was another life she had helped guide from whatever state they were in and into the arms of a loving Big. By now, a few of their contracts had finished and they were back on Earth. A few, like Patrick, were still here, and after seeing him, Cara, Lloyd, and Sam all together as one family… she honestly had doubts he would be leaving after five years. For her, it didn’t matter whether they returned to Earth though… just that they were happy. “I guess just not me though…” She sighed and seeing the time, she knew she needed to review her files and checklist once more. Going back over to her desk, she tenderly stroked the tiny picture of Mindy that she kept as a reminder of her. Not a failure in the sense of a dropout of the program, but definitely not a success to the ache of her heart, she held a special place still. In essence, she was a constant reminder of the stakes of this place and why every Little needed her full attention and care. Sometimes, that didn’t always work out… but Addy knew she always had to try… always had to be vigilant. Looking back down, first up… Katrina McLane. Addy sighed and still had several questions about her and some of what she had seen in her file. “Stage 2 bone cancer… eager… potentially ideal candidate for program.” She had seen it before. After all, anyone being told they were sick or hurt and finding out they could be fixed… cured… whatever they wanted to call it, there was no surprise they would be so happy. But for Katrina… the oddity came with her item to be helped here. Yes, it was cancer, and yes, it still wasn’t even something they could joke about or brush off in this dimension… but on Earth, there was a definite and affordable cure. It wasn’t a red flag for Addy necessarily… just a question she would keep tucked in the back of her mind when meeting her and assessing the candidates that Kelsey… Dr. Halgen set up for her. ‘Need to get back in the habit of calling her that in front of the other Littles right now. I know she definitely still wants to be viewed as the stern one around here…’ She knew better of her friend and her big heart though… she was still the boss however and that came with certain expectations. Here, with the board, or even the antique government regulations… Shaking her head of that nonsense, she moved to her next charge… one who’s file raised even more eyebrows as he was officially announced as the next candidate for the program. “Oliver Maxson… stage 4 skin cancer… sufferer of anxiety and PTSD likely linked to former career at DEA.” Those were the basics for him… but a lot of the other stuff was now blacked out. She had seen his file before, the night of her last choosing ceremony back in November where Patrick had elected Sam and Lloyd and had gone off with Cara as well… but now it looked like a toddler had decided to have fun with a black marker all over his file. Several sections had been redacted and now contained only a handful of words, no doubt a cover-up of some kind from his government back on Earth. ‘Curious… concerning, but curious… Just what did you do, Oliver?’ Addy made a mental note of asking Dr. Halgen about him more in-depth later when they both had a free moment. “Wonder when…” Suddenly, a flock of birds sprang from the distant trees and headed back toward the local town just beyond the borders of their facility here. From seeing it several other times before, Addy stood up... knowing full well that they would only fly away like that for one reason… the front gate had just opened. The new patients were arriving… Sighing, she moved from her two files to the checklist she always made sure to go through before anyone arrived. “Let’s see… already got on the phone with the ordering company to ensure I had the training pants, pull-ups, and diapers already on standby. Last time, I had to fight with Penny for who got the only box of diapers left in the house…” She momentarily shuddered at the thought. “It’s one thing to put a Little in diapers… would be quite something else if we suddenly ran out.” Her eyes then continued to scan the list, going through all the variables she could at least control for now. There were a lot of things to be determined once she met with the Littles and they were able to perform their own scans once in house. Earth machines were notoriously unreliable with the types of data they needed for their own treatments, and they could always uncover something more or something complicated that they weren’t initially anticipating. Like with what happened with Mindy… Finally, though, pointing down her list, everything seemed to be done… except one. “Drats! Room check. Always forget to do that.” She stood up and made sure her wristband was firmly attached to her wrist. “Just never know with our contractors. Reliable nearly always… but I don’t want some Little to smell baby powder on their first day here in their room. My job is usually hard enough without them freaking out over a smell…” Addy quickly looked in the mirror, adjusted a few strands of her hair back into place and quickly took off downstairs, being sure to swiftly check that the two rooms were all ready for her new charges to check off the last item on her to do list. Having only emptied yesterday, the workers made quick work of transforming the rooms back into the previously drab spaces… instead of the basically nurseries they had been at the end of a patient’s three months here. Stepping inside, she made sure to knock on the hidden compartment to ensure it remained closed… now all stocked up and ready for the next patient’s use of what was inside. She then sniffed… only new paint and some lemon. ‘Good. No need to scare the Littles off by smelling dirty diapers, baby powder, or anything else from whoever was in here last.’ Ensuring everything was clean and all prepared, and doing the same for the other, Addy stepped back out and closed the door of each room her Little patients would soon occupy. Nodding, she headed back downstairs. This time, only Erin was there. “Oh? Look who decided to rejoin us,” she said jokingly. “Decided that Itali was just so horrible at last that coming back to tantrums, dirty diapers, and vomit was the life for you?” Addy smirked and gave her a quick hug. “It’s good to see you too, Erin. Heard you took a month off as well.” Erin nodded and grinned widely. “Yep! Was a little more local than you, but I finally got to see the forests up in Oreneron and Columbia. You know that there’s some local trying to use the DNA resurfacing project to introduce an actual Big Foot up there?” Addy shook her head. “No… I didn’t actually.” She then could plainly see the bus stop in front of the entrance and took a deep breath. “So, you ready?” As the last nurse filed down the stairs, Erin looked a little apprehensive but still nodded. “Yeah… never know with these Littles though, right?” Addy thought back to her own… to Mindy and quickly nodded… right as the third nurse joined her to the left. “Hey, you two!” she quickly greeted. “Sorry for rushing. I’ve got two hot ones coming in. Halgen says they’re a handful… even now. Can you imagine that? How about your alls?” Erin leaned over and gave a little wave. “Hey Cassandra…” “Cassie,” she quickly interrupted. “Please… the Littles can’t say my name worth a darn in it’s fullest by the end half the time. Just got used to the short and simple version. Faster for everyone, you know?” Erin and Addy both nodded. “Right… interesting cases for me as well,” Addy confirmed, reflecting on her own name of Addison never being used around here for the same reason. “Same…” Erin joined as well. “Wonder if this round is going for a record or something…” The shuttle from the portal depot at last began to unload as Cassie shook her head. “No… I think it’s the new year or something. Psyche and Juventas and Oasis and all want to start off the new year with strong numbers, I think. It’s this way for most years when I’ve been on this shift. But hey… I heard your Little is a jumper. Is that right?” Addy nodded, the term was a little distasteful but not altogether inaccurate either. “Yeah… I was supposed to get him right after my last candidates went out… but I guess the Little got scared or unnerved or something right before he left for the portal facility. Not sure really, but the company went with another at the last minute to meet their quota and I decided it was a sign to get out and take my vacation at last. Yolanda ended up covering for me and sent me a few updates while I was away.” “Just between us nurses… that was probably for the best,” Cassie chuckled. “I heard with the last batch that two have washed out already. Got booted from the program and everything! I thought that only happened with the ones assigned to me!” “Tough cases all around,” Dr. Halgen interjected, briefly coming out from her office and stopping their conversation cold. “Addy… Cassie… Erin…” She nodded to each of her nurses for this next batch and took a deep breath. “You three know the drill. Tours and orientation with me. Try to make these Littles feel at home though… as you all have seen from the files I gave you; this class might be… interesting. Still… stay vigilant, tough, and…” She looked out the window as a few of the Littles began making their way to the entrance. “And good luck!” She then closed her double doors, and Addy and the others were left nearly speechless. Dr. Halgen was normally somber about this whole thing, but now… she almost seemed cheery. Not a bad thing… just different to see so publicly. Before any of them could ask each other about her though, the screech and momentary grinding of the wheelchair platform lowering quickly alerted them back to their main priority. So, nodding to each other, one by one, each exited the home to greet their newly arrived Littles. The chilly January air greeted each of them along with the sickly, unamused, or nearly catatonic Littles in front of them. Having done this several times by now, there was still a part of Addy’s heart that broke just a little bit on the first day. While each represented an opportunity for fun and learning and healing… each also came to them on the brink of death or disable or with some sort of disablement or disease. Tiny, fragile, and looking steps from death or even with a few shivering from the cold or just their nerves… Addy wanted nothing more than to go to each and hug them until they were okay. But her training was thorough and the more rational part of her mind knew that doing something like that on today of all days was just a plain bad idea. Unlike the other two batches of Littles from the previous two groups already inside, these Littles weren’t ready for that sort of interaction… yet. They needed to be coddled and cared for absolutely, but that would take time. Even without the small quantities of drugs slipped into their meals or the little notes of subliminal hypnosis at night however, Addy knew completely that they would all get their eventually. Pushing through the wandering Littles, as Erin and Cassie quickly found their Littles, Addy had to search for hers. The other four newly arrived Littles were morose, upset, brooding, or just nearly slumped over or dragging themselves to move an inch. As Addy made her way over to the bus, however, a quick wave alerted her to the bus. “Over here! Over here!” one of the Littles shouted, Addy quickly recognizing her as the curious Katrina. “We need help! Lift got stuck!” Looking further, Addy quickly made out the bus driver fiddling with a nearby lever to the platform, where a frail but clearly unamused Little sat in their wheelchair. Bundled up like he was, it was harder to tell who was being lowered down, unlike the boisterous Katrina… but squinting just a bit, even with the gauntness of his disease changing his looks a little, Addy knew who it was. ‘Oliver…’ Hurrying over, the bus driver quickly spotted Addy. “Hey you! I need a hand here!” Nodding, Addy came over and after giving a tiny wave to both Oliver and Katrina looked back at the bus driver. ‘Definitely not how I would want to meet my next to charges here…’ She sighed and waited for the bus driver to tell her what needed to be done. “Lousy old mechanics…” He groaned and shook his head. “Okay… I got the mechanics working again, but I need just an extra pair of hands to wrench this lever down for the hydraulics to kick in. Think you can help?” he questioned, wiping his forehead for a minute. ‘So that’s why the bus took so long out here… I thought I was going to be late seeing everyone…’ Addy looked at the offered lever and nodded. “Yep. No problem. Just tell me when to yank.” The bus driver stepped aside a little and gripped the lever low and let Addy take the high spot. Taking a deep breath in, he looked back at Addy. “Now!” Addy pulled down with all her might and the lever finally dropped down fully. Finally, the platform screeched and it lowered down fully. A few of the others looking on started to clap. “Need any help over there?” Erin asked, her timing impeccable as always. “Or do you all have it?” Addy wiped her hands off and shook her head. “No. It’s all good now. You all go inside and start your tours and orientation. I’ll go last this time.” Seeing a nod from both Erin and Cassie, they and their Littles soon disappeared inside. She normally liked going first but seeing the oddly chipper Katrina and the dour Oliver… taking a second might be better. With the platform lowered, Addy raced to get behind Oliver… but he rushed away before she could grip the handlebars behind him to be pushed by. “I’ve got it…” he said coldly before wheeling up to the front entrance. Addy froze for just a moment. ‘Okay… stubborn Little. Something about him though… Why do I feel I’m going to find a crack in that built-up armor of his before too long?’ Sighing, she looked over at Katrina. “Hey there. Sorry about all that…” The driver didn’t even bother saying anything else and quickly retracted the platform, causing the Little and Big to jump out of the way. Katrina blinked at the scene and jumped further away when the shuttle skidded off back down the hill, but recovering, she then warmly smiled back at Addy. “Well, that was interesting… but I’m Katrina.” Her hand nearly shot from her side like a cannon had suddenly launched it away. Addy looked down at the offered gesture and shook it back quickly. “Very good to meet you, Katrina. I’m Nurse Addy… but plain old Addy works just fine.” Seeing the Little shiver in the cold, Addy gestured back to the house. “How about we get inside out of this weather and then we can talk more?” Her eyes drifted over to a slightly struggling Oliver as he attempted to make his way up the ramp provided and into the house. “Him as well…” “Oh… don’t mind him,” Katrina said with a sigh. “Nothing against you, I think. Seems a bit of a loner. I don’t think he said one word on the bus the whole way over.” “Hmmm… guess we’ll just have to fix that, won’t we?” Addy noted, much to sheepish grin of Katrina. Smiling as well, the two joined Oliver and quickly sat in the main room. What followed was likely some of the most disjointed and lopsided introductory events that Addy had ever experienced as a nurse on move-in day here. Katrina was bubbly, outgoing, and seemed eager to learn about everything. The trio’s conversation in the front living room went nicely with her and Addy learned all sort of random things about her ranging that she grew up all over, moving from state to state… all the way to the fact that she could tie a cherry with her tongue. She was an oddity compared to the rest… but also likely an easy candidate here. Oliver though… was difficult. Questioning him was like pulling teeth in the extreme. Each answer he gave was either one or two words at best… a grunt at worse, and all followed or proceeded by an angry or dismissive glare. His tour was quiet and resigned… and Dr. Halgen even looked worried when he rolled out of her office himself afterward. “Everything okay with him?” Addy questioned as she watched him head off into the elevator alone after he had dismissed her completely from helping him out. Dr. Halgen sighed but nodded. “Yes. Our office back on Earth vetted him fully. See his file?” “Yes, but…” She recalled all the pages in it, but all the redactions as well. “Kind of empty now. Doesn’t look like the same Little you showed me last time.” Dr. Halgen stretched back and drummed her fingers for a moment. “Well… that file got pulled the morning after. Apparently, his government didn’t like everything contained in it. I’m pushing to get more released to us, but… for the moment, you’re going to have to go in a little blind while digging deep with him as well.” “I figured…” she admitted. “Guys like him in this program always take a second.” “True… but I also think that this could be from what I briefly read in his file.” She looked around for a moment and lowered her voice a little bit before leaning forward, something Addy reciprocated. “The anxiety and PTSD… not sure what it’s about, but something’s also telling me that after being alone with all what happened, he’s built layers of protection around himself against others.” In one of the few spots not redacted, Addy remembered that at least. “His file did mention that…” “Yes, and as I said, I’m looking to pull more, but from what I remember when his file first came across my desk…” She then stretched and looked behind Addy as if to check if anyone was listening before looking back at her seriously. “I don’t remember everything all this time later… but make sure you have a monitor in his room at night…” Addy’s brows furrowed and she tried to figure out what Dr. Halgen seemed to be implying. “A mon…?” “Dr. Halgen!” Federica, the facility cook called out, running in her office like her hair was on fire. “Xander is in my kitchen! He has a knife and I can’t get it back from him, and Cassie is with Robin in the bathroom!” She then stops and sees Addy. “Oh… hey Addy…” Dr. Halgen bolted out of her seat right away but kept her outer calm demeanor except now broiling over with authority. “Keep him calm and away from the others, Federica. Go now.” Federica nodded to both and ran back out of the office and to the kitchen… where Addy could now hear the faintest of someone shouting. Sighing, Dr. Halgen returned her gaze back to Addy. “For now… I suggest patience.” She began to walk over and out of the room, gesturing for Addy to follow her as well. Just as the two made it to close her doors, however, Dr. Halgen stopped and looked Added dead in the eye. “Tonight. Come to my office. Alone. We need to talk…” Before Addy could even slip another question or comment, Dr. Halgen had already hurried away. For the next few hours, uncertainty and chaos reigned supreme in the facility. Xander, suffering heavily from Alzheimer’s, was finally taken down and calmed to the point where he didn’t say a word for the rest of the night. Addy suspected drugs were involved somehow… but regardless of his demeanor, his actions set the whole house on edge. The other nurses, like Yolanda and Penny, managed to keep the spirits of their Littles up and keep them away from most of chaos… but a show like Adventure Sam could only keep them occupied for so long. Seeing all the Littles, most of which have already started to descend into childish notions and some form of protective undergarment and sport some kind of childish clothing… were a sight to behold. Addy couldn’t help but feel her heart soaring just a little as she looked at them while Oliver and Katrina picked over their food silently. Each of the more progressed Littles were like a balm for her worries over the current batch that had just arrived today. She felt more than up to the task, but there was still something bothering her about even her relatively calm Littles. They weren’t wielding a knife, yes… but there was still something about them she couldn’t quite shake. Which is probably why when she made sure to tuck each of her charges in, she made sure that she had a monitor in both of their rooms. Katrina was first and went along willingly with most everything. Curiously, if there was ever a decision to be made by her, she always seemed to lean toward the option that she would suspect more from a second or even third month Little here… not someone on their first day. That being said, as she entered Oliver’s room, she almost wished that he would already be a little more like her. “I see you’re almost all ready to hit the hay. Need anything from me before I head up as well?” she questioned, hoping for more than a one-word answer from her new patient. “No.” He then took a breath… but this time it wasn’t to sigh or to get ready to groan or outright dismiss her like he had done for the rest of the day so far. Instead, this was more like he had something else he wanted to say… something pressing and clearly worrying him. Nerves or pride though… he ultimately stayed quiet. So, standing there in his minimalistic furnished room, Addy couldn’t decide what to do. On one hand, he had been crabby all day and pushing him now could only potentially make that worse, end his day poorly, and put them both off to a rocky start on this journey of theirs. On the other hand, though, his little hesitation wasn’t much, but it was something, and Addy couldn’t help but view it as a little spark. Barely anything, but maybe just the thing she needed to fan a bit to get a fire going between them. Instead of either option though, she went in the safer direction and held her position rather than overcrowding the Little. “You know… I know this place can be a lot, and I know I might represent everything you fear from this dimension, but… I would like to be your friend… or at least your nurse here. I’ve seen your medical file, so I know you need at least a little bit of help here. I’ll make sure you get your treatments to get better, but… if you ever need or even just want something more from me… just ask. No annoyance or judgement… just me helping where I can…” Not expecting any acknowledgement, with a little sag in her soul, she turned around. “Thank you…” It was small, fuzzy, barely above a whisper… but definitely present. Turning back around, Addy smiled at her new charge, still sitting up in his bed and ready to go to sleep. It was just for a moment, but she could see a fleck of vulnerability… of need. Thinking back to what Dr. Halgen remembered, maybe it was the night… or maybe it was just him being courteous. But either way, she made sure to keep up her end of manners if nothing else. “You’re very welcome…” With one breath, she then flicked off his lights and walked out without saying another word. As she closed his door though, she blinked and whispered. “Goodnight, Oliver… sweet dreams…” No one heard her today or any of the other first days she had here, but it was just the tiniest little thing she did with all her Littles. Of the dozens of Littles that she had helped in one way or another by now, she surmised only a handful could hear that sentiment on their first day in person. She almost told it to Katrina if she hadn’t almost immediately laid down in bed and shut her eyes earlier. Most, however, simply weren’t ready for that level of affection. ‘Soon… always soon…’ Resolved that both were tucked in at least for the standards that Psyche New Beginnings wanted them to follow, Addy soon ventured back over to the stairs, passing both Erin and Cassie as they tucked in their own Littles. With the severity and variety of their own Littles this round, their nightly ministrations took a little longer. So, taking advantage of their distraction, she made her way downstairs and made sure to softly knock on Dr. Halgen’s door. “Enter…” her soft voice came from inside. Opening up her doors, Addy entered quietly and made sure to shut them right away. Based on her tone earlier, Addy knew that something was up. “You still wanted to see me tonight?” Dr. Halgen sighed and swiveled over in her chair and nodded silently before gesturing to the two chair she had by her now roaring fireplace. The room was dark, somber, but exuded a specific warmth in certain places. Sighing though, Dr. Halgen sat in her chair first and Addy quickly followed in the opposite one. There was a moment of silence, and even after, Dr. Halgen only took a deep sip of her drink. Based on her little quiver after, Addy suspected there was some kind of liquor in it. “So… how are your new charges shaping up? Not too difficult I take it?” Addy shook her head. “No… at least not like Cassie’s or Erin’s this round. Tough diagnoses and based on earlier… I think it might be an interesting three months for them.” “Yes…” Dr. Halgen agreed before pressing more. “But your candidates… honest assessment after your first day with them. Last time, you nailed Cara and Patrick to a tee. How about this batch?” “Well…” Addy formulated a quick but political yet truthful notation about both in her head. “I need to keep an eye on Katrina. Something feels… off about her. Not bad… just different. And Oliver…” If Oliver hadn’t said thank you just before she left, her evaluation of him might have been very different. “A tough case but I think I can help him. Another ‘wait and see’ I think, but not unreachable.” “Good, good. Very good,” Dr. Halgen commended. “Never doubted you for a moment, but…” She shifted her mouth slightly and Addy knew right away she had something else up her sleeve for her. “I gave you those two candidates for a reason. Katrina should be a snap for someone like you and Oliver… more patience, but I think he could be useful…” Addy waited for Dr. Halgen continue, but when she didn’t, she took the initiative instead. “And…?” Dr. Halgen grinned but remained just as serious otherwise. “And I have another assignment I would like you to consider. You remember Cara, right?” A tiny needle entered Addy’s heart. She knew… everyone in town knew by now. Happy to be with Patrick, Sam, and Lloyd in their new living situation from what she saw when she visited them last week… but not even close to the woman or even Little she used to be. “Yes…” “Well, she’s still struggling… a lot actually,” Dr. Halgen revealed. “Sam is trying her best to be her new mommy, but… there’s only so much she can do while still working and caring for Patrick as well. So… now that you’re back…” Dr. Halgen left her insinuation up in the air, but it didn’t take Addy a second to know what she was digging at. “You want me to look in on her… help her. Is that it?” “Would you?” Dr. Halgen questioned, quickly looking relieved. “I will. Tough with two charges here, but… I think I can make it work.” There was hesitation in her voice, but that had only come from years of experience here and even with her undergrad work with broken Littles. Bigs were still cruel, but when the willing Littles ran out… they got downright nasty. Some Littles were still butchered from that time and Addy had made her bones by getting them to rehab. It was a tough lesson learned, but even then… some Littles just couldn’t be helped… Addy sighed and focused on the upside of this potential arrangement. “Maybe even a future playdate with Katrina and Oliver… when they’re all ready for that though. I need to assess Cara’s progress before I can make any promises. Deal?” Dr. Halgen reached over and shook Addy’s hand right away. “Deal.” She then leaned back and tapped her glass a few times before drinking a large swig of it. “Speaking of the chaos from November…” But Dr. Halgen just stopped cold and didn’t say a word, now seemingly lost in her thoughts. “Dr. Halgen… Kelsey…” Addy began after a moment of silence. “Is there someth…?” Dr. Halgen quickly stopped her with a single finger over her lips before producing a small device that she quickly opened and put on the side table right behind her drink, a little red dot blinking and then holding after a moment. Once it stopped, Dr. Halgen looked back at Addy. “Okay… we can talk freely now about… other things.” Addy blinked a few times and the tiny device. She had seen it only on TV or in the news… usually followed by a story of death or treason. “Is that… is that a…?” Dr. Halgen nodded. “Anti-listening device… just in case. Emily… Sergent Emily gave this to me last week before telling me what I’m about to tell you… It’s normally illegal to possess, blocking all signals in a 15-foot radius and all… but things might just about to be get serious.” She then took another long sip from her drink. “I take it you remember Britney and Redge from when you were last here?” Addy had to fight every urge she had not to grimace outwardly over their names. “Yes… former potential caregiver of Patrick and former employee of Juventas, respectively. After they kidnapped Patrick and Cara, they were caught after hurting Cara with the machine she stole from Juventas, I think, and both were sentenced to Dark Cliff for life.” Addy paused and stared back at Dr. Halgen. “What of them?” Dr. Halgen sighed. “Well… as you know, their punishment was more than a little unusual there.” Addy opened her mouth to ask but was quickly cut off… and Dr. Halgen saw. “No. Just… no. And before you ask, yes, I know, but trust me… you don’t want to. You might find out one day, but right now… their punishment is classified. To know it could put your life in danger, so for now… just know it’s not good.” Addy’s mind had been scrambling to find an answer ever since she heard about it, and especially once she saw Patrick’s face after he heard about their mysterious punishment. Considering the deal she had just made and what she saw last week, Cara was still struggling daily and there seemed to be little justice for her, or even Esther or Nancy, two of their other victims. “However…” Dr. Halgen bit her lip, almost as if she didn’t even want to say the next part. “Needless to say, both were devastated with their punishment and have been looking for ways to make deals ever since they stepped foot in Dark Cliff. As such… we’ve found some information out… information that could help our little plan out back here…” Addy leaned forward. Ever since she had been brought in, it had become only the third of her three priorities beyond helping Littles as a nurse here and finding a Little of her own. So far, things had only been simmering with their plot. “You found something?” Dr. Halgen leaned forward as well. “Yes… Penny… our nurse, Penny… she was the rat that allowed Redge and Britney the access and knowledge of our facility and Patrick and Cara on the day they were kidnapped.” Addy’s eyes widened and her knuckles cracked. She shot out of her seat and nearly got to the double doors… hell-bent on throttling Penny upstairs. “Hold it right there!” Dr. Halgen commanded, standing from her seat as well, just in time before Addy touched the doorknob. Seeing her stop, Dr. Halgen breathed a sigh of relief. “Now… come back over here and sit down.” When Addy remained frozen in place, her brow wrinkled slightly. “Now.” Her mouth twitching from the sheer amount of willpower it took within her to turn away and stop enacting her vengeance out, Addy wheeled around and sat once more along with Dr. Halgen. Breathing out, Dr. Halgen quickly patted her knee. “Thank you, Addy. I know that had to be tough to do. Trust me… that little b… witch would be six feet under already if I had any say in the matter… or didn’t see the larger picture.” Addy looked up at her friend and boss with a speck of hope somewhere deep down… hope of a plan. “So, there is a reason she’s still working here… that… traitor.” Addy ground her teeth and couldn’t believe that she was still allowed to interact with Littles. Dr. Halgen nodded. “That’s right. We know her secret… so that means we have leverage over her. Sergeant Emily agrees with me… Penny could just be a minion in all this, but… she might also know more key players in this. As a former employee, we can’t just ignore the connection between Britney and Juventas. Problem is… we just don’t know enough… except the aftermath of their corruption.” “You don’t need to tell me twice…” Addy nearly shuddered at all the evidence of the brutal outcomes from their own parent company here at Psyche New Beginnings. Juventas funded all this… but their methods were turning cold and hard for any Little. In truth, it was starting to feel like the old days of barbarism against Littles once more. “Maybe I do…” Dr. Halgen looked distant for a moment. “You’ve seen this batch. And the one before it was just as bad. Two already gone… It’s like Juventas wants us to activate our security protocols and forcibly break the Littles because of the danger they may pose to society. I mean… we have a known criminal this time. Ten years ago… they would have never even been let in the front door!” “I noticed…” But with her connections with the company and her years of service, a part of Addy still wanted to remain loyal. “But maybe they just want to help everyone.” “Maybe… but how about this then?” She then reached down and pulled out a letter from the board. “Came in this morning. Could barely believe it’s the same company I first came to work for…” Addy took the note and looked at it carefully before her heart fell from its contents. “The board voted down the resolution to remove the drugs in the Little’s food…” Dr. Halgen nodded and stood up before going over to her window, though not too far over to still stay withing the sphere of the anti-listening device. “There’s something rotten here, Addy… You know it and I know it.” Sighing, she turned around and headed right to Addy. “I know Penny should be punished… and she will be, but for now… if you are still willing to help us, I want you to tail her… talk to her. Learn what you can and report back to me and Sergeant Emily. Is that something you can do?” Addy just opened her mouth when Dr. Halgen stopped her. “Before you say yes or no though… just know that this assignment is going to take patience, time, and some major efforts on everyone’s part… starting with you. Sometimes, it’s going to mean getting dirty with others… sometimes doing things you would have never considered before.” She paused. “But also… if we’re successful, think about how many Littles we could be helping… saving, Addy. Think of that and just how much better this place could be…” Addy swished the two conflicting notions around in her head a few times. It was a lot to ask anyone, especially the part about getting to be all buddy-buddy with Penny once more. A friend, but now someone she knew was dirty and at the very least who caused the kidnapping of two Littles and the butchering of one of their brains… the other only being saved from that at the last minute by some quick decisions and great detective work. But all that would have to be put aside. She loved this place and loved Juventas. They did so much good, but now… all that seemed to be slipping away. Thinking back to Mindy, part of the reason for her happiness was being a part of this place. A company born to cure the incurable diseases after the last great war… they now seemed lower than the low and bent on regressing every Little they came across, no matter the cost. It was likely going to be dangerous and messy, but Patrick and Cara and now even Katrina and Oliver… they all deserved better. Juventas had a sickness and as a nurse, Addy felt she needed to cure them of that disease. Now, no matter how, she knew they had to be stopped… Taking a deep breath, Addy looked back at the eager Dr Halgen and nodded. “I’m in.” Dr. Halgen smiled back at her and despite her own convictions, Addy couldn’t help but hear her heart thud aimlessly and deep in anticipation and nervous over what was to come.

Hello all, So it seems in the last few years a lot of the places I used to post stories sort of fell through. I used to mainly concentrate on Devinatart, Daily Diapers, ADISC and ABDL Story Forum. I knew there were other pages out there that took stories but those were enough for me. Anyway, of those, ADISC and ABDL Story Forum both went under. I've since posted on Spandi, but its newer and the writing community is slow to increase. I realized at one point about half the most recently updated stories were my own, as there simply wasn't many people posting. I would recommend this site btw, as I'd like to see it grow, but for now there isn't a large community. So my question is- where else are people posting? I know there are other pages, and I occasionally see my stories pop up elsewhere. (I'm thinking someone was copy pasting them) Are there other good places to post abdl writing? Which are your favourites? Also, how do you advertise/get followers on them? Thanks, Alex

DIAPERED TALES FROM THE WASTELAND CHAPTER 1 LEAVING THE LITTLE VAULT War. War never changes. In the year 2077, bombs were dropped across most of North America, wiping it away in less than two hours. But locked underground, protected from the blasts, some managed to escape into the safety of the Vaults. Deep in the heart of Virginia, lies Vault 86. The people of Vault 86 have lived peaceful lives for over ninety years. Most do not know what it’s like in the outside world–that outside the vault, they don’t sleep in cribs, that they aren’t able to play all day long without worry, and that they don’t even wear diapers. Armed with fresh padding, a dino pacifier, and the collected knowledge of his vault, Joe Palmer has been chosen to lead the first expedition outside in nearly one hundred years. But what will he find? *** “You’ve got your paci?” Mom asked, I pulled out my pacifier, tied on a lanyard around my neck. She nodded. “And you’ve packed spare diapers?” She checked my bag again, going through its contents one by one. “You don’t know if there’ll be any on the outside.” “I know mom!” I said, “And yes, I’ve packed spares.” I shrugged her off me–everyone was watching from behind. “Okay. I only ask because I love you, kiddo.” she smiled sweetly. “Already going out… ah. You’ve grown up so fast. Only twenty years ago you were this high!” she said, gesturing just below her knee. “Now look at you!” she leapt on me with a tight hug. “Moooom, you’re embarrassing me!” Even though she was squeezing me so hard I thought I would pass out, I accepted the hug, not knowing if I would see her again. Just before she broke away, I felt her tense up. She grunted a little, then sighed and went limp. The smell of her dirty diaper hit my nose almost immediately. As gross as it was, it didn’t bother me so much. It was the smell of home after all, a home I was about to leave for the first time. “We’re all so proud!” she gave one last, wan smile, then made her way back to the gathered group, waddling around in her freshly-filled padding. Overseer Carmichael nodded. “You’re doing a fine thing, son.” he said, and he gave me a brisk pat on the shoulder. “You get an idea of your surroundings, then come straight back here. Be gone no more than three days, understand?” “I do Overseer.” I gave a determined nod. “Good lad. We’ll have a good ol’ play party waiting for you when you get back.” he winked, and I gave him a smile. “You ready?” I looked around the room one last time. Two dozen or so people had gathered here, out of the three-hundred people who inhabited the vault. All these people had come to see me leave, I nodded to each of them. I was so nervous, my hands were sweaty and I swear I was already beginning to leak a little into my diaper. At least I would have that comfort, that reminder of the vault. “I’m ready.” I nodded to Overseer Carmicheal. The Overseer nodded slowly back, and moved up to the console, ready to open the inner doors. Everyone took a step back, I heard them draw in breath. I touched all of my equipment again, to make sure it was there–my supply bag (with food, spare diapers, and Mister Fancypants the teddy bear, of course), my holstered gun, and my pip-boy. “Joseph Olsen Palmer, we wish you good luck, and safe travels.” The Overseer pressed a button on the console, and an arm swung around to grasp at the inner door. It slid open smoothly, and spun out of the way. I took in a deep breath, refusing to look back at what I was leaving behind, and made for the outer door. The inner door locked behind me with a loud clang, and I was alone. I knew that the people of vault 86, the people I most cared about, were just behind the door, but that didn’t stop my nerves. This was it, the last chance I had to turn back, I almost went for it, went to knock on the door and call it in already. But then I saw everyone’s faces again, and the hope they had for me. So I remained alone in the darkness. Despite it all, I felt the bulk of my diaper keeping me safe under my onesie. Resolutely, I took my green dinosaur pacifier, and stuck it in my mouth. Feeling much better about my chances now that I had Tommy the T-Rex on my side, I stepped up to the outer door. It was angled slightly, tilted towards the floor like a massive hatch. I knew that when it opened, the first thing I would see would be the endless sky, just like the one painted above my crib. But so much more real. The outer door opened with much less grace than the inner one had. The machinery squealed and groaned, as if the vault itself was in pain. How long had it been shut? Nearly a hundred years? Three generations of people had never seen the outside world. My own grandpa had told me stories of when he was little, before the bombs. He’d said that people ‘potty-trained’ back then, and only wore diapers when they were little. He told me how angry he had been when they told him he’d had to start using diapers again, but after everyone began using them, he came around to the idea. Eighty years later, and diapers were the norm. It was terrifying, how quickly things could change. Vault 86 was a place to relax, and let all your worries–potty training included–disappear. Soon I would have to change my own diapers, sleep outside of a crib, and find my own food. My nerves rose suddenly, and I tried not to panic. Why was I leaving it all behind? Why did things have to change? The door inched open, and I recoiled. A golden ray of light shone through the small gap, brighter and warmer than I had ever experienced before. The sun. My panic transformed into excitement. This is why I was going out–to finally see what was outside, after all this time. The door opened completely, leaving a light cloud of dust in its wake. With a broad smile, and a mostly clean diaper, I stepped into the outside world. *** The massive door, with Vault 86 written big on the front, slowly rolled back into place, and I checked my Pip-boy–the slow clicking counter meant radiation levels matched our initial scan. So that was good. I looked around. Ahead of me was a wide, open concrete plain, dotted with the broken ruins of old buildings, and beyond that, the hills. Apparently this place was an airport, once used by soldiers, though I didn’t see any airplanes like the toy ones we had in the vault. My Pip-boy had been loaded with old maps of a town called Blackstone, in what used to be Virginia. My job was simple–match the maps to the world outside. “Oh! This is going to be so fun!” I wiggled about, unable to keep my excitement hidden away. I decided my first job was to update the area right outside the vault, so I waddle-marched all around it, and got some measurements, and made sure that the maps were up-to-date. After about an hour, just as I was coming to the end of my first survey, I realized that without thinking, I was weeing. My diaper had done a good job of soaking the accident (thank goodness) but I stopped as soon as I realized I was going. I didn’t have many diapers out here, and they would need to be rationed, so that meant holding it in as long as possible. I sighed, left with no choice but to endure the uncomfortable feeling of needing to pee pee. At least my diaper was nice and squishy now. I gave the front a poke, and giggled at the way it moved about. “Right then,” I said, taking out my checklist, “Item number twosies! Check for human activity.” The airbase was big, so big that I could barely see Vault 86 in the distance by the time I reached the edge. It was so quiet out here, I was sure that if other humans were around I would have heard some by now. Suddenly feeling very lonely, I decided it would be best if Mister Fancypants joined me out of my bag, and took him to cuddle while I continued doing a lap around the airbase. His legs dangled beneath him, whenever I got nervous I squeezed his fuzzy fur. Mister Fancypants had been with me nearly my entire life, and had insisted on bringing him with me. It wasn’t long before I came across a small group of houses on the edge of the airbase. The need to pee grew with every minute I was walking, but I knew if I could just hold on a little longer, I could save diapers for the rest of the trip. Plus, I wasn’t looking forward to changing myself all the way out here. I’d practiced a lot but I still wasn’t very good. I didn’t manage to hold it very long. Before I had completed another, wider circle around the airbase, I had to stop in a little forested area. I wriggled my legs, and squeezed them together as tightly as I could, but I struggled to push them all the way. My puffy diaper prevented me from pressing them together, and stopped me from holding myself to stop the wee, though I gave it my best shot at pushing into the padding. Before long, I was jumping from foot-to-foot doing a little potty dance. It was very rare that we had to hold our bladders in the vault, normally we just went whenever nature called, and got changed later, after all that’s what diapers were for. Unfortunately, that meant I struggled desperately with the weight of pee in my tummy, and felt a little leak into my diaper without warning. I hugged Mister Fancypants tighter, and tried my best to hold it in, but my best wasn’t enough. “N-nooooo!” Suddenly, the dam burst open, and immediately my diaper grew warm. It spread up the front of my padding, and across my bottom at the back, and made everything soft and squishy. “Aahhhh!” I gave an almighty sigh, and felt myself sag, my legs no longer tense with holding back my accident. The padding around my waist swelled and spread my legs apart even wider, until eventually my stream stopped. “Nnnnn. That felt goooood.” I said with a silly smile across my face. The now pleasantly warm diaper squished when I poked at it, now almost completely saturated. “Wow. I really had to go, didn’t I, Mister Fancypants?” I looked down at my teddy, but he gave me a blank stare back. “No need to be so mean Mister Fancypants, I really couldn’t hold it anymore!” Mister Fancypants didn’t respond. Deciding to continue my survey, I let my soaking diaper sag beneath me as I walked. There was no point in changing yet, after all I still had work to do. Besides the fact that I may as well use my diaper as much as I could before a change, I kind of wanted to find somewhere a little more private, and safe. Despite my earlier confidence being out here in the wild was beginning to give me the willies. My survey ended with a small, surprisingly neat, house on the edge of the forest. I guessed that this was the way into Blackstone, based on my maps. It was beginning to get late, and after wetting my diaper another few times, I decided it might be best to make a little camp in the building. I also quickly realized I should also probably change myself before I got a rash, or worse, leaked. I didn’t want to ruin my onesie. The house looked like a standard pre-war house, the sort I had seen in pictures in the vault. The garden, once cared for, had been left to grow messy and patchy. The wooden fence had nearly rotted away completely, but there were very few weeds, and hardly any rubble, unlike the ones I had seen earlier. I had expected the place to be in worse condition inside, but apart from a small layer of dust and a few webs here and there, it looked almost completely untouched. I stood still for a moment, and sucked thoughtfully on Tommy the T-Rex. “Yes. Dis will do niwcely.” I said from behind my paci. I uncoiled my bed-roll to act as a changing mat. It wasn’t like the ones back home, but it would do. “I can do dis. I can do dis.” I repeated to myself. With a squish that sent the yellowed padding outward, I sat down on my diaper. Getting the old diaper off was the easy bit. I ripped open the tapes, and pulled it open, revealing the very yellow padding beneath. It was all swollen and heavy. I folded it into a weighty little package, and then into a plastic bag–it was important to dispose of the diaper ethically after all, and not just leave it on the ground, even if the world had been nuked to oblivion. Right. I steeled myself. Now that the easy bit was done, things got a little trickier. After wiping myself down with a damp washcloth, I carefully retrieved the clean padding and placed it beneath me. I’d seen the Mister Handy caretakers back in the vault do this a million times, how hard could it be? I powdered over my diapered area, then lifted the front up against my belly, and leant back a little so it would stay there. Then I went to fold the back up. But by the time I turned back around, the front had fallen down again. “Mmmfff! Why is this so hard?” I tried again, but this time, focused on one side at a time. This worked much better, and I was able to stick the left side together with a single, loose tape. However, before I could continue, I heard a loud clang. My heart leaped in my chest, my hairs stood on end. I looked around the empty room, but there was no one there. Just the silence. Quickly, I went to tape up the rest of my fresh diaper. But before I could finish, I heard a familiar voice. “Get out of here, you burglar scum!” The voice called from another room. I shot up, my diaper still half-undone. “Sorry, I didn’t know this place was … well I thought everyone was dead.” “Are you trying to tell me you killed everyone? Good lord!” The voice said, growing closer. It mingled in with a gentle whirring, almost as if… “No I–” I went to protest, but just as the voice rounded the corner, I realized why it was so familiar. “A Mister Handy unit!” It must have been the one keeping the house clean. But something was wrong. The Mister Handy came through the door, from the darkness on the other-side. It’s voice was more crackly than the ones from 86, and one of its eyes was… well it wasn’t there at all. I backed up slowly. “Sowwy! I can leave ifu want?” I said, but the Mister Handy did not reply. It stopped for a moment, and moved its eye up and down, as if it was scanning me. “I-I-I-Intruders will not be t-t-tolerated!” It said, crackling. Suddenly, one of its arms arose with an attachment I’d never seen before–a buzzsaw. It whirred into motion, spinning sharp and deadly, and rushed toward me. “No!” I shouted, my paci fell out of my mouth, and not knowing what else to do I grabbed my gun. But I was too slow, before I could completely draw it, the Mister Handy’s buzzsaw launched at me. I moved out the way just in time, and the saw buried itself in the wall behind me. My gun fell to the floor. I reached for it, but the buzzsaw swooped in and I fell backwards with a crash. The Mister handy rotated, its eye focusing on me like the aperture of a camera. But when the robot tried to rush at me again, it found itself stuck for a moment, before lurching free. That gave me an idea. Quickly, carefully, I aligned myself with a light switch to my back. “Come on!” I shouted, which seemed to enrage the robot. “Intruders will not be tolerated!” Despite the strange nonchalance of its voice, it rushed at me again. I dove out the way, onto the carpet, and the Mister Handy shot straight into the wall. Its metal buzzsaw made contact with the light switch, and the wires inside. Electricity ran through it, arching and sputtering. The lights flickered on for the first time in decades, then sparked off again. I took the distraction to crawl madly for my gun. But I didn’t need it. The Mister Handy recoiled, its head spun wildly. “I-I-I-Intru-d-d-d-W-welcome home s-s-s-sir! I have ma-a-a-ade-t-traditional-carpet cleaner--s-shopping–the b-b-baby is asleep now–” and with a final garbled mess of words, its glowing eyes flickered off, and it went limp. I released a breath I forgot I was holding, and the silence returned again. *** Over the next hour, I dove into the Mister Handy’s wiring. Back in the vault, we hadn’t the resources to spare to send one with me, but if I could bring this one back, or even get it to help me out here… Thankfully, the robots were so important to our way of life in Vault 86, most people learn to take them apart and put them back together again before they turn eighteen. I was never the best at it, but I knew my way around them well enough. I decided to remove the buzzsaw attachment out of caution, and replaced it with a Rob-Co certified posable hand I found in the garage. Whilst I was at it, I renamed the unit Basil, after a pre-war TV-show they showed in the vaults. It was getting dark by the time I found the program settings, the sun was red in the sky, and golden in the treetops. The neon-green light of my pip-boy was all that lit me in the dark room. “Gardener, no. Shopkeeper, no. Driver, not that. Mmmmm, ahha–Babysitter.” I let the program run, and Basil suddenly burst into life again. Immediately, I backed up and held my gun at his eye. The robot rose quickly, and spun about itself. “Re-re-rebooting…” It stuttered, and went quiet. I worried that I had messed up the program for a moment, and quickly put my paci in my mouth for reassurance. Then, “Can I be of service, master?” The robot hovered, clearly waiting for instruction. I frowned. “What mode is cuwwently activated?” I asked through my pacifier. “Babysitter mode is activated, master. Where is said baby in need of sitting?” “Oh, I … right here.” I gestured to all of me. “Oh dear! Well we can’t have you in that state, can we master?” The Mister Handy moved towards me, and I flinched despite myself. “No…? What are you doing?” I asked nervously. “Why, changing your diaper of course, look at the state it’s in! I do say… wheoever put it on you needs a right bloody scolding” At Basil’s words, I looked down. With everything that had happened, I had forgotten to put the diaper on properly, and it still hung lopsided off me. I realized, too, that it had been a while since I last changed it, and I felt a familiar sensation below… “Hang on …” the robot paused, “What do good boys say?” “Pweese? Pweese would you change my diapee? And, could you pweese hurry? I fink I need to pee again.” “Of course!” The robot said, “And what a good little boy you are for remembering your manners!” Basil’s hand patted me on the head and I giggled. It was almost like being back in the vault. With some proper repairs, this unit could be good-as-new. I laid back down and clutched Mister Fancypants in my arms as the robot inspected my bare butt. Basil was much better at changing my diaper than I had been. For the most part, I just lay there and stared at the ceiling, sucking on my T-Rex paci as Basil cleaned me up. It felt good to be properly padded again, with the familiar bulk pushing my legs apart. Basil was a fast changer too, which was good, because I was growing desperate. Almost as soon as he had finished fastening the tapes, I let out a sigh, and felt my diaper expand as I wet it again. “My, my. Wet already! Do you need me to change you again, Master?” “No, I should be fine until the morning. Fankoo!” I slept surprisingly well that night. In fact, I slept almost like a baby. Maybe it was because I was so exhausted from the day, or maybe it was because I knew I had Basil and Mister Fancypants watching over me. Either way, I woke up early the next morning, ready to take on the day’s challenge–going further afield. Basil changed me out of a thoroughly soaked diaper, and together we made our way out. With a fresh diaper, Mister Fancypants, and Basil by my side, things were looking up. Perhaps, finally, I would be able to see what remained of the world, after all this time… END OF CHAPTER 1

New here so wanna start simple, I'll be the "baby" and you're my carer, if interested you can add bananacat1704 on discord. Anything you want to add to it we can discuss

Elizabeth is 30 years and in the grocery store and goes down the baby aisle and decides to try diapers for the first time. She decides to bye a pack of diapers. The only problem is she does not know how to put them on. She is looking for a person or couple to help her. While she is in the aisle she has to poop so she squats down and pushes it into her panties. I will play Elizabeth

This is a rather unique reimagining of the classic Baby Bottleneck cartoon featuring our favorite trio of troublemakers from Ed, Edd and Eddy. I hope you enjoy the journey and the comic page that accompanies each installment of the story. --- The Kanker's Baby Bottleneck The dazed and confused blonde stared up at the metallic orange beak that was only a few feet away from her face. She was just barely beginning to regain her ability to focus her thoughts when the sudden and very strange sensation of weightlessness consumed her body! The sight of the robotic beak growing further and further away as the feeling of air flowing over her bare arms and legs caught her attention; she was falling! Nazz hit the ground with a rather loud “bam” that announced her landing to whoever was home. She looked around and spotted the backdoor of a house, but that was normal compared to what she was wearing which left her feeling all the more baffled and confused. It was hard to believe but the cheerleader from Peach Creek was dressed in a pink baby's bib and a rather thick cloth diaper that was held together by what could only be described looked as a comically large safety pin. Her new outfit wasn’t the only thing that caused her to question what was happening to her; she quickly became aware of the fact that she was lying in a wicker basket which thankfully had broken her fall. If all this wasn't weird enough for the blonde bombshell, the sight of the homeowner, appearing in the frame of the door, caused her to blink her eyes in confusion. “I didn't order a baby.” The woman said to herself, taken aback by the unexpected diapered blonde lying on her doorstep in a basket. “Uhhh, what just happened?” Nazz couldn't help but ask only to realize that there was a pacifier in her mouth once she started talking. "Mistakes have been made," Eddy, dressed in only the finest alabaster suit that money could buy, started his speech as he looked over at the three familiar faces who stood bored and disinterested in front of him. From what he could see the red headed Kanker seemed far too busy swirling her finger around in her ear, trying to pull wax from it, to pay the pint sized scammer any attention. Her younger sisters were just as equally as unenthusiased as herself; The blonde was whistling while her blue haired sister stood with her right arm hanging towards the floor while her left arm was planted firmly on her hip, looking bored out of her mind as Eddy prattled on. “Every delivery goes to the wrong mom so I'm paying you guys to fix my factory and make my money back.” The mere mention of money immediately pulled the trio of trouble makers from their distracted daydreaming and caused them to stand at attention. Each Kanker instantly brought their left hand up to their forehead, giving their new boss a salute as they acknowledged him in their own unique way. “Whatever you say, Casanova.” Lee grinned as she responded to the man of her dreams. Needless to say, she wasn't exactly sure what he wanted, but that wouldn't stop her from doing a good job so she could get his attention. “Sure thing, chief!” May quickly followed her big sister, eager to get paid even if she had no clue what she was supposed to do to earn her keep. ‘I'll just stand around and look busy until lunchtime.’ “No problem, boss!” Marie chimed in, happy to see that the penny pinching pipsqueak had finally shut his big mouth. 2 Hours Later May stood hunched over a lever, pulling it back every minute to send another brat down the conveyor belt only to release it and sigh. She had been working nonstop, manning the lever since that was the only job her older sisters had deemed fit for her to do by herself since it didn't require much brainpower. “I'm tired of taking care of all these brats. When's our lunch break?” Marie had been watching her baby sister from afar during much of the shift only to walk up on the blonde brat complaining to herself. It wasn't exactly unexpected since May had been whining since the start of their shift, but it was beginning to annoy Marie. Needless to say, the blue haired bully was starting to feel bored after inspecting the various stations along the industrialized conveyor belt. She had finished her job and decided to have some fun with her annoying little sister before lunch by making the youngest Kanker test out the machine. “I'm tired of hearing you yapping.” Marie declared with a devious grin as she hoisted her younger sister up by her armpits. “Maybe you should join the other babies!” To Be Continued... (at the links below) --- The Kanker sisters are hired by Eddy to fix his baby preparation and delivery system, but do they know anything about machinery? Find out in this fun and faithful reimagining of Looney Tunes' iconic "Baby Bottleneck" cartoon! (Links below) Follow me on Twitter or consider supporting the comic and my writing by joining my platforms. All for less than the price of a cup of coffee! Twitter: Free! https://x.com/DaymareAB Fanbox: $5 https://www.fanbox.cc/@daymare/posts/10540195 Substar: $5 https://subscribestar.adult/evisceratednite

Looking for some other minded people who's interested in abdl in Scotland ? Open Minded 😉

Julie was running as fast as she can from the party that her friend hosted that got busted by cops. She found a window open in a quiet house that looked like nobody was home. After landing in it. Julie decides she will spend the night here. She was a little buzzed still from the drinks she had. Julie sat down then layed her head against some what she thought were pillows. She then picked one up and said "Wait a second these arnt pillows they are diapers! Just what I need! What is this place?" Julie puts on the thick diaper which perfectly. She then stands up and looks at the childish design room, crib, and closet full of clothes. Julie surprised "Oh a daycare! Makes sense and look here we have some cute clothes! They look like they will fit perfectly on me!" Julie then puts on a pink flower skirt overalls that barely covered her diaper. Then looked in the mirror and said "oh yea looking good. Fifty flavors of cute right here". Julie then feels her bladder needing released then let's it all out in her diaper "oh I'm totally filling my diaper up. Is this what freedom feels like!" Julie then grabs her wet soggy diaper and starts rubbing it "oh what's this! Oh my this feels so good. So squishy and warm. I might...uh...hmmm.. oh my I'm such a naughty girl" Julie then gets super tired and falls asleep. Julie then wakes up but finds her diaper clean. Confused who had changed it. The window has been locked. "Whoever changed me must have locked the window. How do I get out of here!" She then looks at a tall window typed door. Julie sees a lock and chain on the other side. She starts to get on her tipy toes to try and unlock it but shes way to short to reach it! She trys to yell out for help but no use. Julie sees a mommy like women enter the door way then yells out "Hey there must be some mistake I'm not really a child. I know how it looks but someone changed me already. I don't belong here and..." Julie then pauses and see a officer come in with the women. The women says "sorry I can't be anymore help officier". The officer then says "well if you do see her let me know". The women picks up Julie then says "What do you need darling?". As Julie is picked up. She wets herself from the officier standing right by holding his radio. Julie trys to play along till officier leaves. She then says in babyish tone "I need diapie changed!" The officer then looks at Julie and says to women "she looks a little big for diapers don't you think?". As the women lays down Julie on the changing table and opens her wet diaper "yea but don't let that fool you she deffinatly does need them. This is her third diaper change today! Isn't that right little stinker. Ran right through her little tummy didn't it? Do you need fed some more sweetie?". As Julie gets up from her diaper change she is super hungry. Julie then says "yes oh my god I'm starving. I mean... baby very hungwy." The officier still a little confused then says "you sure she's not to old. To me she looks to big to be in daycare much less nurse on a boob." Then Julie confused and in her head said to herself "Wait did he say.... nurse on a boob" then Julie sees the women put her huge boob right in Julie's face. Then the women says "your meals already cupcake" The women picks up Julie then the officier says "well your the expert but gosh.. kids these days" the women then pushes her boob closer to Julie's mouth with Julie having a super shocked look on her face and can't believe what she's about to have her do. Then the women smiles and says "they look so mature don't they?" Julie then having to play along starts sucking on the women's boob and starting to feel the milk enter her mouth then start to drip off her face. The women then says "it's all that fast food chemicals and formula they grow up on. Little girls need the real thing" As Julie kept drinking she felt her bowls release. A huge amount of poo entered her diaper. From all the drinks she drank it was super slushie and mushy. The diaper sagged super low in her humiliating situation. The officier then smells the horrible present she made in her diaper then says "that's my cue to leave". The women smiles and says "that's right sweetie get it all out" After Julie's humilating situation. The women then starts changing her diaper. "Peeyeew looks like my girl left me a big present in her diaper. We got to cut back on that big girl food and get you back on baby food" After Julie's diaper change she sees the clip board to sign out of nursery and tells the women "Hey so thank you for the diaper change and all. It looks like it's closing time so il just sign myself out". The women then snatches the clip board "oh I don't think so. Your coming home with me. Il take good care of you before somebody comes to claim you". Julie shocked "oh that's really not necessary" as Julie said that the women swooped up Julie and carried her in her arms and said "but you need a mommy to change your diapers and I got every size diaper imaginable. You can stay in my nursery. It was getting lonely with just me and my cats. The nursery is built for someone my size but your big for your age anyway" As the women walked outside with Julie to her car. Julie confused "big for my age? But I'm not a baby". The women waved to officers "evening officers. Ever find that college girl?". The officier said "no but don't worry ma'am. As per your request we will be stationed here till she shows up" The women smiled then said to Julie "did you hear that? Were going to have a fun time together... for a long time!" After arriving at the woman's home. Julie was carried into the home then up into the nursery room. To Julie's surprise it was a full adult size nursery just fit for her age. The woman then pulled down the crib bars and placed Julie inside then pulled the bars up trapping her inside. It was impossible to escape. Julie wasn't able to hop over or anything. Then the woman quickly shot her with a needle that weaken Julie. Julie's legs failed and she landed on her diaper butt. Only able to crawl around on her hands and knees. "Please let me out. I'm not a baby! I demand to be let go" Julie yelled out. The woman smiled then plopped a pacifier in Julie's mouth. "Now now cupcake your to young to make decisions. Also if I recall the cops are still looking for you. So you can either spend your time in a dirty old prison or stay here as my baby girl. Now which sounds better?" Said the woman. Julie then thought twice. She knew prison would be horrible. So if she had to pick anything I guess it's being this mommy's baby girl. Julie then says in babyish tone "stay with mommy". The woman then smiled. "Good girl. Now lets go over the rules. You will use your diaper for poopie and pee pee. No exceptions. You will call me mommy and mommy will decide when to change your diaper. You will also be breastfed and given a nice baby food diet. If you complain or act bad I will be giving you a good spanking over my knee or even a warm enema to fill your diaper. Since you tried yelling at mommy it's time for a spanking" Julie's new mommy grabbed her from the crib then put Julie over her knee. Then pulled her diaper down and spanked away. "Ow ow ow" SPANK SPANK SPANK. Julie's butt started turning red and she started crying. Mommy then pulled up her diaper and hugged her. "Sorry mommy had to do that but sometimes naughty girls need to be taught a lesson" The woman then slid her hand down the back of Julie's diaper and pushed her finger up Julie's butthole. Julie felt something go up. "Mommy what did you put up my butt" Julie asked. Julie's mommy put her back in the crib "don't worry about it sweetie you'll find out in the morning" Julie then fell fast asleep from the long day. She then woke up and smelled something really bad. "Ewww gross what's that smell? Did I just fart without knowing?" Julie then layed up on her butt and felt something yucky and mushy spread and smear against her buttcheeks and privates. "Noo noo noo I couldn't have! I just pooped my diaper in my sleep! This isn't happening! I'm not some dumb baby" Julie's mommy walks in the room "well good morning sweetie. Uh oh I think I smell someone made a big stinky poopy in her diaper. It's ok sweetie your just a baby you can't control yourself. I think someone also needs some feeding little stinker" The mommy then grabs Julie and heads to the rocking chair. Then places Julie's dirty diaper butt on her knee squishing all the poop again against Julie's butt. The mommy unbuttons her bra. And then grabs Julie's dirty diaper butt with her hand and then pushes her forward. Making Julie suck on her boob. Julie disgusted couldn't do much. All she could do is just suck and hope that her new mommy will change her diaper. The mommy just rocked her back and forth smushing Julie's dirty diaper butt.

18-year-old Benjamin has just been evicted from the college dorms after he has failed out of college for the semester. He sits in the student lounge with his bags while he figures out his next moves. His former professor Megan is talking to her faculty friend and sees him sitting alone. She is confused because he is supposed to be in her class for the semester. "Hi Ben. I missed you in my class this semester. Are you okay?"

I have been here a while now and have had some hit and miss roleplays. One of my favorites has been the My Baby Husband Thread with @Nappy_Queen. She has since not been on the site and I have been roleplay less for a long while. In the past I have been looking for story based roleplays with shrinking and growing. I am still looking for that but I am also interested in regular diaper and abdl roleplays. I would hope that I will hear from some people regarding possible roleplays. I am more of sub than a dom but I might consider being in charge, but I will not guarantee it. Hope to hear from you, Gman

This is a short, dark, verging on horror piece involving non-consensual kidnapping. Inspired by a recent self bondage experience. I hope you enjoy and would welcome any comments and feedback. AI supported writing. I lay there in the dim haze, my wrists and ankles pinned by soft but unyielding cuffs to the bars of this oversized crib, the fleecy fabric of whatever outfit he’d forced me into brushing against my fingertips and toes with every futile wriggle. It felt like some sort of footed pyjamas, complete with built-in padded mittens and booties, trapping my hands and feet in useless softness over the humiliating diaper beneath. My world had shrunk to this: a padded mattress cradling my immobilized body, the faint creak of the mobile dangling overhead, its pastel stars and moons twisting in lazy circles like some mocking constellation. Beyond that, the ceiling loomed, a blank expanse of shadow-speckled white, interrupted only by the occasional crack or stain that my eyes had mapped out a hundred times already—or was it a thousand? The curtains were drawn tight, sealing out any hint of the outside world, and the light switch—wherever it was—had been flipped off hours ago….. I think? My eyes had adjusted to the gloom, but everything I could see was framed through the raised walls of the crib—those unyielding bars he’d lifted into place as he tucked me in for “nap time,” bars too far for my cuffed limbs to reach or touch, a grid that distorted the room into segmented shadows. Through them, I glimpsed the hulking shapes of furniture: what looked like a rocking chair hunched in one corner; a rocking horse nearby, its painted eyes staring blankly into the void; a dresser in another corner with shelves holding indistinct objects—bottles? Toys? Something more sinister?—their forms teasing my vision without revealing secrets; the massive changing table lurking like a threat; and along one entire wall, a row of wardrobes with doors firmly closed, hiding whatever horrors or banalities lay within. But details blurred into nothingness, leaving me with nothing to do but stare, blink, and stare again. Boredom wasn’t the word—it was a suffocating void, an endless expanse of nothing that clawed at my sanity, heavier with each passing second that felt like an eternity. I tried to replay memories—my last vacation, the feel of sand between my toes—but the images faded into gray, repeating like a scratched record until they lost all color and joy, turning into just another layer of tedium. I counted the bars of the crib, over and over, but the number never changed, the exercise devolving into mechanical drudgery that mocked my efforts. I invented stories about the shadows on the ceiling, anthropomorphizing cracks into faces or maps, but they dissolved into absurdity, leaving me more exhausted and empty than before. Frustration mounted with each failed attempt to occupy my mind—why couldn’t I think of something new, something vivid? Why did every thought loop back to this crib, this room, this hellish inertia, amplifying the monotony until it felt like a physical weight pressing down on my chest? It was as if my brain had been cuffed too, trapped in a cycle of futile mental fidgeting that only deepened the emptiness, making me ache for even the smallest stimulation—a book, a window, a fly buzzing by—anything to shatter the relentless sameness that gnawed at me like slow-dripping acid. The silence of the house amplified it all, a profound quiet I’d never noticed in my normal life, where the hum of traffic, the chatter of voices, the buzz of electronics formed a constant backdrop. Here, there was nothing—no TV droning in the background, no radio static, no murmur of conversation. Just the occasional settling groan of the building, like bones shifting in sleep, or the distant creak of pipes hidden in the walls. It pressed in on me, this absence of sound, making my own shallow breaths thunder in my ears. Every so often, I strained for hints of the world beyond: a faint dog bark that might have been real or imagined, the muffled pop of a car backfiring blocks away, or the light patter of rain against the window—too distant, too fleeting to offer any hope. They only teased, reminding me of freedom just out of reach, while I lay muffled and helpless, the boredom seeping deeper into my bones with each silent interval. The oversized pacifier strapped into my mouth made it worse, filling me so completely that I had no choice but to suck rhythmically at it, a humiliating reflex that kept saliva from pooling but silenced any cry for help. Attempts to yell came out as pathetic, muffled hums, vibrating uselessly against the rubber. Time had abandoned me entirely. No clock ticked in the room, no sliver of daylight peeked through the curtains to mark the sun’s progress. My phone, my watch—everything had been stripped away when he drugged me, along with my dignity, leaving me in this infantile getup. The last words he cooed in that sickeningly sweet voice echoed in my head: “It’s nap time, little one.” Nap time. How long did that mean? An hour? Half a day? I tried counting my breaths, but they blurred together, interrupted by the involuntary suck-suck of the pacifier. I sang songs in my head, but the lyrics frayed and repeated until they lost all meaning, the melodies flattening into monotonous drones that only heightened the boredom. I attempted to gauge time by the ache in my muscles or the mobile’s turns, but it was hopeless—each rotation felt eternal, yet maybe only seconds had passed, the repetition turning even this into a tedious ritual. Frustration boiled inside me, hot and impotent—why couldn’t I just know? Was it morning still, or had night fallen? Had minutes ticked by, or hours? The uncertainty clawed at me, worse than the restraints, turning every undefined moment into a torture of ambiguity. I raged inwardly at the blank ceiling, the indifferent shadows, begging for some sign—a shift in light, a sound from outside—but nothing came, leaving me adrift in a temporal fog that fueled the boredom into something sharper, more desperate, like a scream building in my chest that the pacifier smothered, only to echo back into the void of my mind. With nothing to distract me, my mind spiraled into the abyss. What did he have planned? The nursery setup screamed perversion—adult-sized everything, from the rocking horse to the wardrobes, designed for some twisted fantasy, complete with this sleeper and pacifier to reduce me to a doll. Would he come back to “play” with me, force more of that cloying milk down my throat past the pacifier? Or worse: undress me slowly, his hands exploring the fleecy barriers, breaking me piece by piece until I begged for it? Images flashed unbidden—knives glinting in the low light, endless “feedings” and “changes,” isolation turning me into a hollow shell. Maybe he’d sell me off, or keep me here forever, a forgotten pet in this padded prison, sucking eternally on this gag. And then the questions about rescue crept in, a fragile thread of hope twisted with dread: he’d grabbed me on a Sunday, right after brunch—how long before anyone noticed I was gone? My boss would expect me to log on first thing Monday morning for the team meeting; when I didn’t show, would she just assume I was sick, or ping HR after a few hours? My parents—I usually called them Sunday evenings; if I missed that, would they worry enough to text, or wait until midweek? Friends: Sarah might notice no response to our group chat about weekend plans, but she was always flaky herself—would she think I was just busy? And my apartment—how long before someone checked? The landlord if rent was late, but that was weeks away; maybe a neighbor hearing my cat meowing endlessly? The debates raged silently in my head, timelines branching into despair: a day? Two? What if no one connected the dots quickly enough? What if he covered his tracks, sent fake messages from my phone? But even these frantic musings wore thin, repeating like the mobile’s spin until they too became part of the boredom, stale and unresolving, draining any spark of urgency into numb resignation. Terror gripped my chest, each thought birthing a dozen more, darker and more vivid, until my heart hammered against my ribs—yet even the fear began to dull, looping endlessly without progression, feeding back into the insatiable maw of monotony. I tugged at the cuffs futilely, the minuscule give only fueling the panic, the mittens preventing even a scratch at the straps. What if he never came back? Starvation, dehydration—or what if he did, and that was worse? And if rescue came too late, would I even be me anymore? And then there was my body, betraying me inch by inch. My muscles screamed from the forced immobility, a dull ache blooming in my shoulders and hips where the cuffs held me splayed in this unnatural pose, the sleeper’s fabric chafing slightly with every twitch. At first, it was just a twinge, something I might ignore on a busy day, but here, with the void pressing in, it amplified into a constant throb, radiating down my limbs like fire ants marching under my skin. Worse still was my bladder, swelling with the two massive bottles of milk he’d forced me to guzzle before strapping in the pacifier. Warm and insistent, the pressure felt like a hot throbbing stone in my abdomen, impossible to ignore in this enforced idleness. I debated endlessly in my mind: hold on to my dignity, refuse to give in to this degradation, or surrender and wet myself like the toddler he wanted me to be? The thought repulsed me—years of adulthood, of control, clashing with the mounting discomfort. But the pressure grew relentless, a nagging pulse that drowned out even the terror, turning my thoughts into a loop of pros and cons: dignity versus relief, pride versus pain—yet another repetitive cycle that only underscored the boredom. Finally, the constant, uncomfortable fullness won out—I couldn’t bear it anymore. I tried to relax, to let go, but at first, nothing happened. Panic surged—all those years of potty training etched into my mind and body, a barrier I couldn’t breach. My muscles clenched involuntarily, the urge building to a frantic edge. Come on, I pleaded with myself, just do it. And then, a small trickle escaped, warm and shocking, quickly building into a flood as I forced relaxation. The urine streamed out, the warmth spreading across my skin as the diaper greedily sucked it up, but not fast enough—some ran down between my bum cheeks, pooling underneath me in a soggy puddle before the padding swelled and absorbed it. Humiliation burned hotter than the liquid, a fresh wave of shame crashing over me, mingling with fleeting relief that only heightened the overall torment. But as the warmth settled, I reflected—it didn’t feel as bad as I’d expected. Yes, it was utterly humiliating to think I’d wet myself like a child, but the diaper’s embrace wasn’t unpleasant; the swelling padding cradled me softly, no acrid smell seeped out, and the relief from that insistent pressure was a small mercy in this void. Yet that mercy was short-lived, the bladder discomfort simply replaced by the aches in my muscles, which clawed their way up my mental priority list in the absolute nothing that surrounded me. Those throbs in my shoulders, hips, and limbs demanded attention now, constant and unyielding, with no way to shift position or stretch—no option at all to relieve them, just endless awareness of their persistence amid the tedium. More time passed, how much I had no idea, the mobile’s endless twirl mocking my attempts to track it, each cycle blending into the next until the motion itself became a hypnotic bore. I tried closing my eyes, willing sleep to come as a distant promise of escape, but it eluded me; my mind whirred endlessly, a hamster wheel of recycled thoughts with nothing new to feed it, spinning faster in the boredom’s grip, generating heat but no progress, no relief. Eventually, a familiar twinge returned to my bladder—how was that even possible? I wondered, grasping at this as a crude hourglass. How long did it take to fill up again after emptying? Surely at least an hour since I’d wet myself if the urge was back already. Yes, he’d force-fed me those two massive bottles, so the liquid had to go somewhere, processing through my body like an unwelcome timer. But I’d never really noticed before how quickly—or slowly—it would build; in normal life, distractions masked it. Any relief I’d gained from wetting myself had only been temporary, a cruel joke in this timeless prison, where even bodily functions couldn’t puncture the overarching ennui. How much longer? The mobile turned, indifferently, as all I could do was wait.

Hello and happy 2026! It's been a while since I've posted anything in these parts, my last story being Intimism which was completed, oh boy, a year ago. Look, 2025 was a bit of a slow year for me, let's not dwell on that (although my blog might have a couple short stories that didn't make it onto this website....). But I'm back with an all new story, the first two chapters of which we'll be posting today! This story is based off of a prompt I received on my short story suggestion post over on Bluesky, but, well, it's not really that short, as you'll discover if you read on. This one kind of grabbed me by the masks and forced me to give it some proper length, what I can say. I'll be updating this one pretty frequently due to its structure, the diaper stuff is kind of backloaded into the final third of the story. Until then, though, I hope you enjoy the story and these characters! Thank you for reading! --- ‘I really picked a beautiful night for this.’ That’s what occurs to you as you admire the atmosphere around you. A full moon is hanging up above. There’s a breeze rolling through, cooling the warm summer night just enough that your cloak and your gear don’t feel too heavy on your shoulders. What’s even nicer than the weather is the view, you’ve always loved the view this tower has. The castle courtyard to one side and a sparkling lake just outside the walls, to the other side. It really is picturesque. You’ve seen it many times before, of course, but tonight….you don’t know why. You just can’t help but take an extra moment to admire it. You really wish you could just take moments like this and put them in your pocket. Well. Enough waxing poetic. You grip the rope currently tied to your waist to steady yourself, then continue scaling down the tower wall until you’re next to a window. Then, with your free hand, you grab a pick and start jimmying the window’s lock. The lock comes undone quickly and you lightly reach over to pull open the window - you almost climb right inside, but you stop for a second and thoughtfully rub your chin. You casually lean back and plant your feet on the wall of the tower, then you undo one of your boots. You take the boot and toss it through the now open window. You hear a splash from below. You can’t see quite that far in the dark, but you’re pretty sure your boot is now heading for the bottom of the lake. She really doesn’t think much of you, does she? If you were the easily offended type, this would really strike at you. You produce a switchblade and a small pouch, taking a pinch of glowing blue dust from the latter and sprinkling it over the former. The now enchanted knife easily cuts through the teleportation charm that had been woven into the window. Or, rather, the gap of space that existed between the inside and outside once the window was open. You blow the dust off of your blade, sending it and the charm off on the wind, then clamber inside. No surprises once you’re inside. A gigantic four-poster bed in one corner with the canopy currently drawn around its sleeping occupant. A bookshelf with a variety of dusty old tomes on the wall opposite the bed. A desk with yet more books and notes strewn about it. A vanity before a mirror with a myriad of make-ups, perfumes and busts wearing all kinds of jewelry. You spare the bed half a glance to make sure the occupant isn’t moving behind that canopy. Once you’re satisfied, you slide a small half-mask over the bottom of your face, covering your nose and mouth. You take in a deep breath and hold it, then you walk towards the vanity. You snag a necklace off of a bust, then start opening everything that opens. You find rings, earrings, brooches, which you grab at random. Your steps and movements make no noise. The jingle of the jewelry as it leaves its drawers and boxes and the clatter as it all drops into your sack never comes. A moment later and you’ve taken half of the glittering baubles here and made them your own. Your hand grabs a tiara off of a bust, but you pause for a second. You glance at the mirror, seeing the silver tiara, diamonds embedded in its front and your own cloaked figure and the gloves hands holding it. You glance back at the bed and its sleeping occupant. You roll your eyes and toss the tiara back on the desk where it silently jumps up and down a bit before settling. You walk away from the vanity. You don’t consider snatching any of the cosmetics (too likely to break in transit and get all over the jewels, not to mention your good satchel) or the books (can be valuable, but such a pain in the ass to find the right buyer for this dusty-ass tome or that one. Also, really heavy). So there’s not much of value left here for you after raiding the vanity. …but before you head back out the window, you can’t help but pause as you see something on the other side of the room, an armoire, taller than yourself. It’s closed, but there’s a dress hanging on the front of it - clothes already picked for tomorrow, presumably. You’re really only interested in the shiny stuff, but…clothes can be valuable too. Made of precious fabrics, woven into something particular, bespoke, for only one person. You have to find the right buyer, but. Expensive people like expensive things, so there’s always a market for fancy clothes. They’re also a lot lighter than books. You walk over to the armoire and look over the dress, trying to assess its value just from sight, at first. You take the dress in your hand and take a closer look, just trying to figure out its condition, how much you can sell it for. Your eyes fall to the sleeves. You run your thumb over the pink fabric, down to the white lace at the edge of the sleeve. It takes a moment for you to realize you’ve been staring. You also realize that in the moment since you’ve become staring, someone has gotten behind you. You bite the inside of your cheek, inwardly cursing yourself for not keeping your wits about you. Your hand reaches down to your belt. You release the breath you’d been holding. Sound comes from your feet as you move and your hand as you grip your weapon tightly. You spin around in one motion, bringing up your club, ready to drop it on the head of whoever snuck up on you. Then…you let out a huff and your arm falls to your side. You roll your eyes and start to walk away. “…did I startle you?” The young woman, a cup of tea in one hand, a candle in the other, large spectacles over her eyes, dressed in a flowing nightgown, gives you a look as you walk away from her. You move over to the bed and throw the canopy open. When you came in, you thought you saw someone asleep in the bed. Upon further inspection, you are prepared to conclude that it is, in fact, a broom and a watermelon dressed in a nightgown. “Cute,” you growl at the young woman. “I do like to try and keep you on your toes,” she says, a mischievous smile curling onto her face as she sets the tea and the candle on her desk. “So you’re settin’ traps for me, now?” You ask. “If I was setting traps, I wouldn’t have used a watermelon.” She takes a book off of her bookshelf and sits down at her desk. “I’d have put a guard in there. And they would’ve given you such a beating by now.” She takes a sip of her tea. Her back is to you. You’re positive she knows you have half of her jewelry in your satchel, especially now that the sound is back and it’s bouncing around noisily in there. She’s nonetheless nonchalant at your presence. “Shyeah. You just wanted to spare your guard the beating,” you say dismissively. You’re already inching towards the window. She’s sitting at the desk with her back to you, no interest in apprehending you or notifying anyone of your presence, but you don’t want to push your luck. “That must be why,” she says, barely paying attention as she pores over her book. She glances at the dress hanging on her armoire, then finally half-turns her head to half-look at you. “Do you like it?” You stop halfway through the window when you realize what she’s asking. “What?” “The dress. Do you like it?” She asks again. “Why would I have an opinion on--” “Mother and Father are having a ball for the Summer Solstice. Mother had it made for me.” She stands up and walks over to the dress, picking it up and holding it over herself. “She says the color represents the long sunset. I told her in that case, shouldn’t it be more of a dusky orange, but she thinks pink brings out my hair better.” She absentmindedly runs a hand through her curly blond hair as she looks it over. She then looks at you. “What do you think. Does this color bring out my hair?” “I have absolutely no bloody idea,” you growl. You’re not sure why she’s asking you for fashion tips. You’re even more not sure why you’re standing here listening to her ask you for fashion tips. “Mmn.” She seems unbothered by your non-answer and hangs the dress back up. “Personally, I’ve always thought pink goes better with black hair. Insofar as I’ve spent much mental energy on color coordination to begin with.” She goes back to her desk. “I’ve spent much more of my time on this, lately.” As much as you want to escape before somebody walks by and hears this conversation and as much as you do not care about the finer points of proper attire for Solstice Balls, you hesitate again to leave. “….on what?” You ask. You don’t step away from the window, but you do lean back in the direction of the princess and her desk, just a bit. Again, she half-looks back at you and again, you catch that mischievous little smile. She knows she’s piqued your interest. “I’ve just been researching something. A little piece of history that once belonged to another kingdom. It went unseen for so long that some academics consider it to be a…priceless treasure.” She paused for a second before letting those last two words hang in the air. This is the most obvious bait of all time… “What kinda treasure?” …and she’s got your hooked, good. Dammit. Now that she knows she’s got you, she picks up some things off the desk and practically skips over to you, her smile only getting bigger. “It’s a magical artifact from an old kingdom,” she explains, her eyes lighting up. She points at her book, then at some pictures she’s sketched in her own notes. “It was made by an old royal family, the head of which was a great spellcaster. The old research says it allowed the user to change themselves in whatever way they wished.” “That’s it?” You ask, feeling oddly disappointed. “Shapeshifting is expensive, but it ain’t legendary. Lotsa spellcasters can do that.” “That’s the thing. It’s not just shapeshifting.” She flips through the book. Even if the book was in any language you could read, she would be going too fast and too excitedly for you to read any of it. “The artifact wouldn’t just change you, it would change the world around you. Whatever changes you made for yourself, everybody around you would perceive them to be true.” Now you’ve gone from disappointed to confused. “That’s…impossible. So I could just tell someone-” “You could decide that you’re the princess that lives in this castle and this bedchamber belongs to you.” She gestures to the room around you. “If one of my guards walked in, they would believe it.” “…but you’re the princess, and this is your chamber,” you point out. “What would happen to you, would they suddenly think you were the one robbin’ the place?” You ask. You have to admit, that would be pretty funny. “Hm. It doesn’t say anything about swapping your old identity on to someone else,” she murmurs, looking at the book. “I suppose they would think both of us are the princess. I wonder how they would rationalize there only being one bed…” You fight the urge to roll your eyes again as you glance at her monstrosity of a bed, which could easily fit five people comfortably, muchless two. “Alright, well, when you figure it out, you write it all down and I’ll be sure to read it the next time I stop by,” you say. “You’re really not interested at all?” The princess asks, tilting her head. “The ability to change your whole identity with but a thought.” “What’m I supposed to be wantin’ to change about my identity?” You ask. She gives you a skeptical look for a moment. “I suppose I just took it for granted that this,” she gestures to her ransacked vanity with one hand and to your satchel, which holds most of her ransacked vanity, with the other. “Wasn’t what you wanted to spend the rest of your life doing. Is plundering baubles really the sum of your ambition?” “Well, y’know, it’s not as exciting as robbing stage coaches, but I waste so much less time pickin’ arrows outta my butt,” you say nonchalantly as you brush your masked chin with the back of your hand. “I’ve thought about movin’ up to robbin’ dragons, but the thing is, they sleep on all their loot. Stuff’s more valuable, but washin’ that dragon stink off takes days.” “Ah, so it’s a matter of strict personal hygiene standards,” the princess says with a little giggle into her hand. “I understand completely.” She keeps staring at you for a moment. The smile on her face changes a bit. You look away. “What’re you starin’ at?” you grumble at her. “Well, unless you get your promotion to Dragon Burgling in the next couple months, I should have it one way or another.” The princess walks over towards her bed and starts shimmying her makeshift dummy out of her nightgown. “So if you change your mind and you’d like to see it on your next visit, just let the watermelon know when you get in.” “Right,” you grunt, sensing that she’s not going to bring anything up to try and keep you any longer. You’ve half-climbed out the window, when you stop and look back. “I thought you said this thing was lost, what do you mean you’ll have it in a couple weeks?” “Hm?” The princess looks back as if she’s surprised you’re still there. “Oh. Yes. Well, it had been unseen and unfound for quite a long time, but it was recently rediscovered. I’ve put in a royal petition to the owner to borrow it for research purposes.” “Right.” Petition. Borrow. Sounded like she was politely telling this person to hand it over or some royal soldiers would show up to throw them a face party where everybody’s knuckles were invited. “Who’s the unlucky shmuck who found it?” “The Witch Queen,” she says matter-of-factly and you almost fall out of the window right there. “The Witch Queen has it? And you’re just askin’ her for it?” You ask, unable to keep your laughter out of your voice. She doesn’t seem to notice your incredulity. “Yes, I think as a fellow academic, she’ll be all too willing to indulge my request,” the princess says. She takes the final sip of her tea and pulls up the covers of her bed so she can get in herself now that it’s been rendered watermelon-free. “She probably wants to see the continued advancement of magical knowledge as much as I do, don’t you think?” “I think if she writes back at all, you should have someone else open it,” you grunt. “I’m outta here. Good luck, princess.” She pauses as she gets in bed. She smiles at you. “Good luck to you, my burglar.” She waves a finger at the window. “Leave the window open, if you would.” Then she puts out her candle and pulls the canopy back into place. You pause and step out of the window. You stand there in the dark, staring at the canopy for a moment. You start to reach a hand out towards it. You pull it back. Underneath your half-mask, your teeth grind back and forth. You look at the window. You look back at the room. Your steps fall lightly on the carpeted floor as you walk over to the armoire. There’s a rustling noise as you jerk the pink dress, custom made for the Solstice Ball, off of its place and shove it into your bag. Nothing comes from the canopy in response except the slight shift of blankets and a contented release of breath. A few more seconds of shuffling later and you walk back over to the window and climb out. You close it behind you and start climbing back up the tower. … A moment later, you climb back down and open the window back up. You let out an annoyed grunt and climb away for real this time. And, as mentioned, here's chapter 2! Expect a couple more chapters later this week! --- You sell off some of the jewelry you knicked from the princess and make a pretty sum, as per usual and as per usual, you decide to put most of it away for safekeeping. You give one chunk to a friend who can keep it secure, who out of the kindness of his heart, lets you help yourself to a few of his refreshments. You give one chunk to another friend, who has made you aware of a limited time investment opportunity in the world of wyvern racing and you share some of it with another individual with whom you have a frank exchange of ideas regarding whether his mother’s circumference was great enough for her posterior to require its own lord. Okay, so, you spent most of the money drinking, gambling and fighting. At least you also replaced your boot. While nursing a hangover (and also nursing your busted up jaw), you find yourself going through what’s left of your loot. You haven’t burned through all of or even most of it yet. That princess really is keeping some valuable crap around. But you’re going through it quicker than you’d like - at this rate, you really are going to have to go back to that tower sooner than you’d like. The risk is still bafflingly small. You’re practically daring them to catch you at this point, always going in the same way, but there’s just never a guard on that tower, no matter how many times you use it to break into the princess’ room. “Lousy girl is keepin’ her guards away on purpose,” you growl to nobody in particular as you rub your head. You fall into your own bed and take a swig of your drink (water, probably the first cup of water you’ve had in a few days, the more you think about it). Your bed is a sad sight compared to hers, her giant four-poster behemoth could fit three of your crummy mattress. The rest of your home isn’t much better. For all the money you’ve made stealing from the princess, it never really occurred to you to buy some nicer things. Your home is just kind of the same hole in the wall it was before you started thieving. And it’s starting to bother you a bit just how out of place that dress is amongst all of your other crap. You didn’t sell it with the jewelry. You’re not sure why. You just left it hanging on the wall across from your bed and you just keep…sitting on your bed, staring at it. “I’ve always thought pink goes better with black hair.” Those words keep bouncing around in your head. You grab a handful of your own hair. You run your previous encounters with the princess over in your head, trying to remember if there was ever a time when your hood wasn’t up, if there was ever a time it wasn’t too dark for her to get a good look at you, if there was ever a time when she could’ve gotten a good look at your face at all, muchless the hair on top of your head. Was she just idly sharing an opinion or was she specifically referring to…. You let out a groan and look away from the dress. You don’t know why you’re spending so much time thinking about it. So much time trying to figure out what some strange bookworm royal girl is thinking. Why she spent so much time telling you about that treasure. Hell, she practically invited you to come back after she had it. ‘Is that why you’re burning through the money so fast? So you have to go back again? And when you see her and she has that treasure….’ You groan again, louder this time, to shut your own stupid inner monologue up. Right about now you’re regretting that you decided on water. You don’t know what’s happening to you. Easiest score in the world, all you have to do is go and take the jewels, then sell them, and the person you’re robbing never says boo about it. Why are you over-complicating it? She’s just a sheltered, pampered princess who’s never had any excitement in her life. She probably never says anything because she thinks this situation is like something from one of those books she always has her nose in, where some dashing rogue who steals from the rich and gives to the poor or something stupid like that falls in love with the fair maiden. That’s it. She probably has a crush on you because she thinks you’re some handsome fantasy character. She only sees you in the couple of hours when you’re actually on your game. She never sees the weeks of drinking, listlessness and general futility that makes up the rest of your life. She doesn’t know you’re just a busted, drunken thief who found an easy score and keeps using it because they prefer when things are easy. And, okay, sure, maybe you toss some gold coins at a couple street urchins here or an orphanage there. But she doesn’t know that, and you’re pretty sure you’re drunk when you do that, so she doesn’t get to assume it’s out of the goodness of your heart! She just thinks you’re a lot more than you actually are. And the more you think about it, you realize you are really pissed off at her. You think about going back into that tower tonight and giving her a piece of your mind. You think about figuring out which books are her favorite and then stealing them and telling her you burned them for warmth (before you remember that it’s summer). You think about throwing her mattress in that lake. None of these feel appropriate and most importantly, you don’t want your petty vengeance to actually harm your relationship enough to jeopardize your easy score, this is your income we’re talking about here. After ruminating on it for a bit, something occurs to you. You go back to your satchel and open it up, brushing aside some jewelry to find a rolled up piece of paper, the only thing you took besides the dress that wasn’t shiny. It was a snap decision, right at the end, you didn’t even understand it yourself. You grabbed the dress, then you walked over to the desk and ripped this page right out of her notes. It’s her notes on that treasure. The one that she was telling you about. The one that lets you become anything else. She told you to come back and see her when she got it. You would really like to see the look on her face when you show up in her room with it in your hands. You think about that look for a second. Then you stop, furrow your brow and shake your head. “No, no, this is insane!” You yell out to nobody. “This isn’t some jewelry we’re talking about, this is a massively powerful magical artifact in the hands of the strongest spellcaster in the country. For God’s sake, I am NOT, under any circumstances, seriously going to consider trying to rob the Witch Queen!” — Some time later, the night has finally come where you’re going to try and rob the Witch Queen. You’ve parked yourself at the edge of the forest surrounding the Witch Queen’s tower. After you finished cursing yourself and telling yourself this was crazy, you did eventually do your research on the place and come up with a plan to get inside. The vault, with all the Witch Queen’s treasures, was at the top, right above the Queen’s personal chamber. The tower only had one entrance, with guards posted at all times. So going in the front door wasn’t an option, but scaling the tower wasn’t much better. It was very tall and even at night, you would eventually be spotted, not to mention there was security charms on all of the windows. Real ones, not basically-a-practical-joke ones like the Princess’ teleportation charm that had put your boot in a lake. It seems impossible to get in without the Witch Queen wanting you there first, but you eventually realized something. The tower was covered with charms to prevent breaking in, but one area wasn’t - the one underneath the surface. You were going to steal from the Witch Queen by breaking into her dungeon. Finding a teleportation charm of your own hadn’t been cheap or easy. It was single use and single direction, so the spellcrafter you bought it from had insisted that you only use it when you had direct line of sight to where you were going. If you misjudged and teleported into a wall, you would be crushed instantly. You’d promised the crafter you weren’t planning to teleport through a wall. You had not chosen to divulge you were planning to teleport through a bunch of ground and a wall. Because the charm was single direction, teleporting from the ground downward into the dungeon was a no-go and probably would’ve clipped the security charms anyway, so, you found yourself a quiet, secluded stretch of the forest and started digging. It was really quite important that you started digging at the right point because, can’t stress this part enough, if you got the distance wrong, you were going to have a lot of dirt and stone occupying the same physical space as your person and you really didn’t wanna learn what that felt like. Why were you doing this again? For money? Or power? No, it was for spite. Right. Just making sure. You’d never considered yourself a Godly burglar, but when you stood in that hole you’d dug with the charm in your hands, you found yourself murmuring a quick prayer to whichever of the divine cared to listen. Eventually, you decided the anticipation was making you sicker than the possibility of your imminent crushing death, so you sucked in a breath and said the word. The charm crackled to life and a blue electricity surrounded you. Your stomach filled with a feeling of weightlessness. Thunk! And you were dropped onto your knees in a dark cell. You take in and let out several breaths and look around. You’re alive. And you’re not dead. Which means it worked? You pat yourself a few times. Yup still in one piece. And from the iron bars in front of you, it looked like you were exactly where you wanted to be, a cell in the Witch Queen’s dungeon. A quick look around shows what you had suspected from your time planning this job to be true - nobody else here. Either imprisonment had fallen out of favor with the Witch Queen as a punishment or she’d built a better dungeon somewhere else. Given that you’re currently trying to steal from her, you really hope you never find out. Right, stealing. The heist. You’re here for a heist. The good news is, you didn’t crush yourself getting in. The bad news is, this was by far the easy part. Now you have to climb up every floor of this tower, including past the Queen’s own chamber, without being detected. On the way, you have to not only figure out a way to get past the person guarding the vault (which is a big problem, but more on that later), you have to find a way to actually open the vault itself. But, somehow, you have a plan. See, your first idea had just been to find somewhere to make yourself invisible long enough to scale the wall, then just cut through the spells on the windows of the top floor, similarly to how you broke into the princess’ chamber. But when doing your research, you found the Witch Queen, naturally, as a famous witch, didn’t guard her home with charms you could just cut off that easily. Obviously, she had in-house spellcrafters to make her charms for her and trying to cut them from the outside would just trigger them. But if you could find the charm at the point of creation….well then you might be able to do something. You made your way up from the dungeon and waited until the doors opened, allowing a shipment of spell-making supplies to come inside. Since you needed to get to the spellcrafting workshop anyway, you’d considered just sneaking into the tower itself with the supplies, but every shipment is thoroughly inspected for security and accuracy. You’d heard a rumor that a shipment had come up missing a key component the Queen had expected and in response, she’d turned the guard who had failed to properly inspect the shipment and the courier who had failed to properly fulfill her order it into a pair of boots and spent an hour kicking the merchant she’d ordered from in the stomach with them. A story like that had to be true. So sneaking in with the supplies was a no-go. But after the supplies were already in the tower, there was no reason for them to be inspected again until they were in the workshop. So you put your mask on, hold your breath and find yourself a crate big enough to fit in (you may have slipped a piece of jewelry to the courier to make sure they used an extra large crate with a loose board for a relatively unimportant part of the Queen’s order). Holding your breath as you travel up the stairs isn’t easy, but you’ve trained to be able to do it for longer. The box you’re hiding in eventually gets brought to a room and you hear a conversation. “Yes, yes, yes, put those ones over there. Her Grace will be in workshop tomorrow. Need to have everything out of boxes and on shelves by then.” “Want any help? Some of those crates were awful heavy.” “No, no, no, should be fine. Her Grace, very particular about how things are organized. Whole system. Better done myself.” “Right. She’s a stickler for inspection, too.” A chuckle could be heard as the crates were moved. “I hear she has some important project she’s working on.” “Yes, yes. Very important. Very very important. Very secret. Rank-and-file spellcrafters not told what it is. Only what materials to gather. Not willing to divulge to details to any outside of her chief crafter and her Queensguard. Hear rumors, though.” “Yeah? Rumors like what?” “Hm. Hm. Hm. Hm.” “Come onnnnnn. It’s just us.” “Hm. Hm. Alright. Hear Her Grace. Experimenting with her own mana.” “Pfffwhat? Why would she want to do that? She has the most powerful mana in the country.” “Yes. Yes. Yes. Have seen it. Studied it. Never seen anything like it. Like holding sun. In palm of my hand. Perfect. No room for improvement. None.” “Can’t imagine what she might want to do to change it, but….she must know what she’s doing.” “Yes. Yes. Her Grace, wisest witch in the land. Trust her.” “Alllright. That’s the last one. My shift is almost over. You want to meet at the bar after you’re done with this?” “Yes. Yes. Imbibing. Yes. Will be there.” Somewhere during that conversation, you released your breath. The conversation ends and the door closes to signal the guard has left. You hear the sound of crates opening. You grip your club and take another breath. The orange lamplight pours in when the top of the crate opens. You stand up and swing your club right at the diminutive bespectacled spellcrafter’s head. One swing puts them out instantly and you catch them before they hit the ground, the whole thing taking about three seconds and happening in complete silence. Poor bastard never saw it coming. You relieve them of their cloak and shove them in a closet. An ignominious moment in, you get the feeling, a dedicated career, but, they’ll be fine when they come to. You start looking around the workshop. From here, your plan had two options. One, you could find the charm they use on the windows and create a mixture that you could put on your knife to cut through it. That would let you climb the outside of the tower and go in and out of the windows without being detected. Or you could put on the cloak you just “borrowed” and pretend to be one of the Queen’s spellcrafters. As long as you were careful, one option would get you to the top floor and then you could use the other to get out safely. But neither would get you inside the vault. That was the hard part. The vault contained all of the greatest and most powerful treasures the Witch Queen had to her name, so the vault and its keys were guarded by the Queensguard, elite warrior-spellcasters sworn to protect the Witch Queen. When they were on duty, each member of the Queensguard kept a key to the vault on their person. Meanwhile, one member of the Queensguard would stand watch in front of the vault, a different one each day. Getting inside meant not only swiping a key off of one of them, it also meant somehow getting past one of them. These people were the best of the best, you weren’t gonna get them by sneaking up and whacking them once with your club. This was the crux of everything. Procuring the teleportation charm, digging the hole, figuring out a way into the workshop, that had all been relatively straightforward to plan and pay for. This was where most of the budget for the heist had gone, in terms of time, thought and coin. After about a hundred false starts and bad, unworkable plans, you had eventually come up with something, but you were going to have to execute it perfectly. It couldn’t be understated, these were some of the savviest, smartest, not to mention deadliest magic users in the country and they were all top-level swordswomen and men as well. You were going to need a bit of luck in even the best case scenario and if you made a mistake at any point, it was instantly curtains. If they didn’t strike you down right there, you’d be thrown before the Witch Queen and that was not an eventuality you felt comfortable dwelling on. You take a deep breath and hold up the cloak you had “borrowed” from the spellcrafter. Time to go.

This story is inspired by true story (kind of). My cousin is a doctor, who own’s his own eye center, and is 50 years older than his daughter. When I was 14 years old, my mom and I went to Seattle to visit her step sitter, who I didn’t know. On the, I got food poisoning, but I didn’t poop my pants (I threw up). We went to Vancouver, and my mom had call me on the store PA. Summer 2035 It's still unbelievable. It happened in the summer of 2025 when I was between sixth and seventh grade, a pivotal time for any twelve-year-old. Sixth grade is the last year of elementary school, and the last chance to be a kid, while seventh grade is the start of middle school, which is kind of like a mini-high school. It’s where the big kids go. I was almost a teenager, but there was a part of me that still wanted to be a little kid. The transition from childhood to teenager is both thrilling and intimidating, and it was even more complicated for me. You see, I was a bit of a miracle baby. My parents met when they were older, after they had given up hope of having children. My mom was forty, and my dad was fifty. They didn’t want to wait for the wedding, so they had me before they were married. My mom adores little kids. The only reason she waited so long is that it took her a while to meet the right person. She used to teach at a preschool, and she babysat my cousins when they were younger. However, by the time I was born, they were older and didn’t need a babysitter, so she focused all of her attention on me. Even now, in her sixties, she loves to take care of little kids. She writes children’s stories and frequently babysits for families in her neighborhood. As her only child, she kept me in the baby stage longer than usual. She nursed me until I was three, I slept in a crib until I was four, and I wasn’t fully potty-trained until I was five. Even after I stopped wearing diapers, I still had a bottle at bedtime. I used a pacifier until I finished kindergarten, and when my mom finally took it away, I sucked my thumb, which I did publicly until I was eight, and privately within my room until I was ten. My mom kept me in a stroller much longer than usual. My dad was a doctor, and owned a surgery center, so money was never an issue. He loves to travel, and he wanted me to see as much of the world as possible, so we traveled a lot when I was younger. I often wandered off, so my mom preferred using a stroller for its safety and convenience. When I was five years old, my mom was criticized by one of her friends. Her friend thought I was too old for a stroller, unaware that I was also wearing a diaper. Earlier that day, I had an accident, and my mom had a strict rule: if I wet my Pull-up, I had to wear a diaper for the rest of the day. We stopped using the stroller for a while, but then I got lost at a festival and was missing for over an hour. She thought my safety was more important than others’ opinions, and went back to using a stroller for two more years, which was until I was seven years old! Being the youngest, I was the last baby in the family. My aunties and cousins gave me plenty of attention, especially when I acted younger than I really was. When I was seven, during the summer between first and second grade, I had one of my last baby-like experiences. I went to an amusement park with my cousin, one of her friends, and her three-year-old nephew. By then, I hadn't worn diapers for years, not even at night. Mom stopped using the stroller a few months earlier, but she was still very protective. I was almost eight and too old for the women's restroom, but I wasn’t allowed to use a public bathroom by myself. I wore Pull-ups, just in case a family bathroom wasn’t available. I also had to ride in a stroller because My mom didn’t trust me to stay close to my cousin. I ended up being treated just like the three-year-old, including having my diaper changed. The babying stopped after my 8th birthday. Although it was a gradual change, it felt abrupt. All of a sudden, all my baby things disappeared, including my stroller. I guess my mom thought I was too old for them. When I used baby talk, mom told me to stop talking like that. When I wet my pants, she scolded me by saying, "Billy, you're too old for that!” Most of my childish habits faded away, but I still sucked my thumb. At that time, I was rarely around little kids. Since most of my mom’s friends were older than she was, their kids were older than me. I was usually the youngest in the group, often by several years. I was caught between being too old to be a little kid, and too young to be a big kid. I wanted to be like the older kids, but I was attracted to baby things, especially when we walked through the baby aisle in the grocery store. The phrase “I’m a Big Kid, Now!” always caught my eye. I would check weekly ads for diaper deals and, though I couldn’t explain it, I wanted to wear diapers again. We moved to Indonesia when I finished fifth grade. My dad retired, sold his practice, and taught at a medical school in Nusantara, Indonesia. He did it to seek a new challenge, explore another part of the world, and introduce me to diverse cultures. Nusantara is the new capital of Indonesia, and it was still under construction when we moved there. Although it had modern amenities, there weren’t very many people, especially other Americans. Since there wasn’t an American School, I was homeschooled online, which I preferred since I wasn’t comfortable with kids my age. My parents were friends with a couple that had two little kids: Lyon and Ophelia. When I met them, Lyon was four years old, and wasn’t fully potty trained, while Ophelia was two and hadn’t even begun. Their parents both worked, so my mom helped with daycare. They were at our house almost every day, and my mom helped potty train both of them. Ten months later, Ophelia was mostly potty trained, even during her nap. Unfortunately, Lyon regressed and needed to go back to diapers after his sister stopped using them. I was the big kid in the group. Even though I wasn’t old enough, or mature enough, to handle any of the real daycare responsibilities, I played with them. That kept them entertained, which seemed to help my mom. She told me that I was good with them, but really, I just wanted to play with them, like a little kid. For the first time since I was seven, our home had baby items again. I wanted to use them, but I didn’t want my mom to find out. One day, I tried on one of Lyon’s diapers and surprisingly, it still fit! However, I was too afraid to use it. While I wanted to be a little kid again, I also wanted to be a big kid. My mom became less protective, and let me do things by myself. She allowed me to stay home alone for the very first time, and within a few months, I became the babysitter myself. Though it was just for a short while, that transition from needing a babysitter to being one made me feel truly grown-up. We traveled nearly every month, since my dad was eager to explore as much of Southeast Asia as possible. With each trip, I became more independent. They let me go to the beach alone and gave me my own hotel room, where I could watch movies and stay up as late as I wanted. Meanwhile, my parents went to restaurants, and ate food that I wouldn’t like. After school ended, my mom and I went back to the U.S.; my dad stayed behind to teach. We stopped in Seattle to visit my mom's stepsister, who was technically my aunt, though I didn’t know her. She saw me when I was four, and I was too young to remember it. For me, I was excited about being a big kid on a long trip. When we moved to Indonesia, ten months earlier, I was unsure of myself, and stayed close to my mom. After a year of travel, I was confident, and independent. My mom let me go alone to McDonald’s or the pool, and I felt comfortable exploring near the hotel as long as I stayed close. Best of all, we were flying business class, which meant I got my own little cubby, and didn’t have to sit next to my mom. Unfortunately, I think I ate something questionable before we left. I don’t know what it was, but it hit me in the middle of the flight to Singapore. Just as we began our descent and the seatbelt sign lit up, things took a turn for the worse. I thought it was gas, but sadly, it wasn’t. Worst of all, I had to wait until we landed to clean up. It was incredibly embarrassing. I wanted my mom to help clean it up, but she couldn’t. I had to handle everything on my own and did my best. In the end, I threw away my underwear. Unfortunately, my stomach issues weren’t over. I almost had another accident on the way to the hotel, and I wasn’t as lucky after lunch. Thankfully it happened close to my hotel room, so it wasn’t as hard to clean up. Afterward, I stayed in my room, watching TV near a bathroom so I wouldn't risk pooping my pants again. My main worry was the long flight to Seattle, especially since I was running low on clean underwear. My mom was concerned too; she picked up some Pull-ups for me to use on the flight. They weren’t even Goodnites, they were actual Pull-ups, just like Lyon’s. She suggested, “Billy, I know that you’re worried about having another accident on the plane. I think you should wear one of these, just in case. If it happens again, you can just throw them away.” While I was secretly thrilled, I didn’t want my mom to know. I had to act disappointed, but not enough for her to change her mind. I cried out, “I’m not a baby!” She reassured me, “I know honey, but I don’t think you want another accident. What happened today was awful. I know it’s embarrassing, but not as much as having another accident. Nobody will know, and it’s just until your stomach settles.” I hesitated, “Do I have to?” Mom replied, “No, but you might have another accident.” In truth, I wanted to put them on right away, but I didn’t want my mom to know that. I protested, “That’s because I couldn’t get to the bathroom. That won’t happen tonight.” “Okay, you’re right. You don’t have to wear them tonight, but I think you should wear one tomorrow.” Regrettably, I protested too much. While I wanted to wear one that night, I had to wait until the morning. After I woke up, mom asked. “How is your tummy? Is it better?” In reality, I felt fine. When I pooped, it was normal, and I wasn’t worried about pooping my pants. However, that’s not what I told my mom. I didn’t want her to change her mind, so I said, “Okay, but it’s still a little uncomfortable.” “Did you poo this morning?” “A little, but it was runny.” “Alright, I think you better wear a Pull-up on the plane. Just in case you have a problem. After we land, you can take them off, and nobody will know about it. It will be our secret.” When I took it from my mom, I almost let my excitement show, but she didn't say anything. Once I put it on and checked myself in the mirror, there was nothing obvious to see. After I came out of the bathroom, my mom said, “I put a few more in your backpack. Hopefully, you don’t need them, but just in case. Remember, please let me know if you have an accident.” I knew I was going to have at least one accident. This was the last chance to wear a diaper, and I wasn’t going to waste it. It was just too good of an opportunity to pass up. I had wanted to wear diapers for a long time, but I was always afraid. Now, not only could I wear one; I had my mom's permission to use it. Since I was in business class, and had my own cubby, nobody would know. I waited until we reached cruising altitude to do it, but I almost peed in it before we got on the plane. The wet Pull-up felt better than the dry one. I don’t know why, but I liked the squishiness. However, it created a problem. I was allowed to poo in it, but I didn’t know if I could pee in it. I didn’t know how my mom would react to me wetting myself, so I decided to wait until she went to sleep before changing it. However, I peed some more, and it leaked. It wasn’t a lot, but my mom noticed. Fortunately, she thought I was sleeping when it happened. When she saw it, she woke me up. “Billy, wake up. I think you leaked. Why didn’t you get up?” I shrugged, “I don’t know, I was sleeping.” Mom rolled her eyes. “Okay. Go clean up, and we’ll put a towel on your seat.” I needed another change a few hours later, and I was wet again after we landed. After we got off the plane, my mom asked, “Billy, do you need to go to the bathroom?” I shook my head, which was odd since I usually go straight to the bathroom after leaving the plane. For reasons that I still don’t understand, my mom reached over and squeezed the front of my Pull-up. She looked super disappointed, and said, “Oh Billy, you’re soaked.” She opened up my backpack and took out my last Pull-up. “What happened to the other one?” I played dumb. “What one?” Mom explained, “I put three Pull-ups in here. You used one when you leaked, and this is the last one. There should be one more.” I blushed, “I had another accident.” Mom looked dubious, “You did? Why didn’t you tell me?” “I was embarrassed, and you were sleeping.” Once again, I seemingly got away with it. I don’t think she was fully convinced, but she wasn’t mad. She replied, “Okay. Go put this on in the bathroom.” I sighed, “Do I have to? You said it was just for the flight.” My mom said, “Yes, you do. You’ll keep wearing them until we figure out what’s going on.” I reluctantly went into the bathroom to change out of my wet Pull-up, and put the new one on. When I came out, mom squeezed it to check if I was wearing it. Although my mom wasn't angry, she began to treat me more like a child. I was tired from jet lag, so she sent me to bed earlier than normal. She prompted me to use the bathroom, just like I was a child who needed to be reminded when to go. In Seattle, she held my hand, and at dinner, she cut my food into smaller pieces. My aunt and uncle thought I was still a little kid because the last time they saw me, I was in diapers. I showed subtle signs of regression that wasn’t expected in a twelve-year-old. I spilled my glass when I forgot to hold it upright. I made a mess while eating, and I developed nervous habits. At one point, I absentmindedly put my thumb in my mouth when I was anxious. I also had more accidents, but my Pull-ups concealed them. We arrived early in the morning on that first day, and I had an accident in the afternoon. That night, I wet my Pull-up and I had two more accidents the next day. I was wet again on the second night. I hadn’t wet my bed in three years, and suddenly I had five accidents in two days! On the second day of our trip, my mom called my dad. Even though he was 5,000 miles away and wasn’t a pediatrician, he was still a doctor. She asked if it was urgent or if it could wait until we got home. My dad talked to me about it and asked a lot of questions. Some of them were embarrassing, and I couldn't figure out why he wanted to know those things. It wasn’t until a few years later that I realized he was asking about wet dreams. Back then, I didn’t even know what a wet dream was. This led to the breaking point when my mom decided she had enough. If I was going to act like a baby, then I would be treated like one. It happened on the third day of our trip, while we were driving to Vancouver. We stopped at a Target, and I hate shopping with my mom. She browses every section regardless of what we need. I always get bored and wander off, which is why she used the stroller for such a long time. But those days had long since passed, and I usually waited at the front of the store for her to finish. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of us. As usual, I got bored and wandered off to explore the store. My first stop was the sports section, and then I moved on to the toys. After that, I aimlessly roamed the store, searching for my mom. When I couldn’t find her, I waited at the front of the store where the restaurant was. My mom eventually found me, and she was really mad. She asked, “There you are. Didn’t you hear the intercom?” I shrugged, “No, but I was waiting for you right here.” She said, “They had to call you on the intercom like a child.” She checked my Pull-up and sighed, “Billy! Not again.” Then she took my arm and led me away. I asked, “Where are we going?” “Since you can’t seem to act your age, I have to treat you like you’re a little kid.” My mom’s words stung, but she was determined. She firmly grabbed a cart and paused for a moment, considering whether to put me in the basket. I was obviously too big for that, so she dismissed the idea and headed straight for the baby section. Without hesitating, my mom put the largest size Pampers into the basket. She continued down the aisle, adding baby powder and a pacifier to the cart. As a final measure, she selected a stroller, pulled it out, and said, “Get in.” I cried, “What?” “You heard me, get in. I want to see if you fit.” “But why?” “I can’t trust you to stay close to me, so now you have to ride in a stroller.” “But mom, please.” “Don’t start with me. And don’t make a scene.” I recognized her tone and knew there was no point arguing about it. Reluctantly, I climbed into the stroller; and, to my surprise, I fit. My aunt pushed the shopping cart while my mom pushed the stroller. We headed to the self-checkout lane. Thankfully, that meant no one saw me. After we paid for everything, Mom approached the greeter and asked, “Is there a place I can take him to the bathroom?” The lady responded, “The men’s bathroom is right over there.” Mom clarified, “No, you don’t understand. I need to take care of his diaper.” Realizing the situation, the greeter explained, “Oh, I see. The family bathroom is between the two.” Mom led me into the bathroom, with the package of size 7 Pampers. As we stepped out, a woman with a young boy looked at us. Mom caught her eye and said, “Well, if he won’t use the potty like a big boy, I don’t have a choice.” After we got to the car, my aunt asked, “Does he need a car seat?” I cried, “No Mom! Please! I’m not a baby.” Mom took out the pacifier and said, “If you’re going to pout, suck on this.” I sat in the back seat, sulking, determined to make things as difficult as I could. If she was going to treat me like a baby, I might as well play the part. I pooped in my diaper, on purpose. The smell was so bad that we had to stop at a rest area. However, the bathroom was disgusting, and rather than making me lie on the floor, she changed my diaper in a quiet spot. Even if she was mad, she didn’t act that way. She changed it the same way that she did with Lyon, without shaming me. My attempt to punish her for putting me in a diaper clearly failed. The next stop was Vancouver, and things didn’t get easier from there. Rather than bringing a rollaway bed, they brought a crib to our room. I remember the bellboy pausing when he saw me. Thankfully, he kept it to himself. Mom wasted no time in making her expectations clear. She looked me in the eye and said the words that made my heart sink, “Until the wetting stops, you’re staying in diapers. And all of this,” pointing to the crib, diaper bags, and everything else that came with them, “will stay until you’re out of diapers. Do you understand?” Overwhelmed, I broke down in tears. “I’m sorry. Please, I’m not a baby!” Mom stood firm. “Nope, I’m not having it. You had your chance. Since you’re acting like a baby, I have to treat you like one. I’ll treat you like a big kid when you start acting like one.” I cried, “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be sorry about it. It’s what you wanted, so it’s what you’re getting.” She turned out the lights, and said, “Go to sleep, it’s time for your nap.” After we returned to Seattle, my aunt set up the crib she used for her grandson, and I sat in his highchair. The sleeping arrangements changed throughout our trip. I slept in a crib when one was available, but if not, I used a regular bed. Sometimes I sat in a highchair, but my mom never made me sit in one at a restaurant. However, The diapers and stroller were constant for the entire summer. Despite it all, I accepted my fate. Mom made it clear: I would stay in diapers until I stopped wetting them, and I would be treated like a baby until I was out of diapers. I didn’t know that I was supposed to let her know when I needed to go, so I used my diaper without telling her. I just waited until she checked. Finally, at the end of our vacation, Mom looked at me, “Billy, tell me the truth. Do you like this?” Her question caught me completely off guard. I stammered, “What?” She smiled knowingly. “Stop that. Billy, it’s been two months, and you’ve whined less in those months than you have in years. I think you like this.” I couldn’t help but cry out, “That’s because you make me suck on my binky when I whine.” Mom wasn’t convinced. She looked me in the eye “And it looks like you like it.” Her words lingered in the air, making me think about everything that had happened. Mom then said, “It’s okay if you like it. And if that’s how you feel, I’m willing to continue, but there will be some rules around it.” I couldn’t hide the hopefulness in my voice, no matter how much I tried. “There will be rules?” She said, "When you decide to be a baby, you'll stay that way. You’ll have the same rules that we have right now, and it will stay that way until I know you’re ready to be a big kid.” “How long will that be?” She replied, “It depends. You’ll need to be potty trained first. After you’re potty trained, I’ll give you big kid underwear, and you’ll be a big kid, with big kid rules. Until then, you’ll stay in diapers, with baby rules. I wondered what my mom meant by being potty-trained again. I asked, “What do you mean? How are you going to potty train me again?” She smiled and replied, “Silly boy, I’m going to do the same thing that I did with Ophelia and Lyon.” I pressed further, “Are we starting now?” Mom shook her head and reassured me, “No, not yet. I don’t think you’re ready, and I don’t want to deal with that until we get home.” Any doubt about wanting to stay in diapers vanished after my next question. I looked at Mom and asked, “What do I do when I want to go back to diapers?” She answered, “Well, you can ask, but even if you don’t, I’ll know.” “How?” Mom said, “If you have an accident, I know that means you want to be a baby, so I’ll put you in a diaper and let you be a baby until you’re ready to be a big kid again.” As I listened, I found myself thinking: do I want to be a big kid, or do I want to stay this way?

Hello everyone, and welcome to my 2nd ever story. This one came to me pretty quickly. As always, constructive criticism is welcome. Comments welcome. Diapers from the start on this one. Chapter 1: Anxiety Jimmy was having that dream again. As he lay sweating in his bed, his eyes continuously darted back and forth beneath his eyelids. He moved restlessly under the covers. It was his most frequent dream, the one that was more of a memory than an actual dream. The one he wished he could forget. In his dream, he was six again, walking home from the bus stop. The afternoon heat was in full effect, causing sweat to run down the small of his back, and a quick wipe of his forehead with the back of his hand. As he approached the front door of his house, he could see that the sun was at just the right angle to shine through the multicolored pattern built into the top of the wooden door. The refracted light on the carpet of the living room looked like a rainbow. In his dream, he had just walked in the front door, his mother’s imposing figure coming into view as he pushed the door open fully. His mother stood there, waiting for him, tapping her foot in annoyance. Before he could even get out so much as a “Hi Mom!”, his backpack was removed, and his pants pulled around his ankles. In one swift motion, his mother took him over her knee and told him off for misbehaving again. What had his crime been? His Mother informed him that his aim during his morning pee had been poor, and he’d splashed a bit onto the floor. As his mother’s firm hand struck his quickly reddening behind, his mother was extolling the virtues of cleanliness to him. In his dream, Jimmy was crying, promising to do better next time, to keep the bathroom clean. After a good twenty spanks, she set him back on his feet and pulled his pants back up. Stepping back from Jimmy, she pointed at the small amount of dirt he had tracked inside and told him to clean it up. He didn’t say a word and walked over to the laundry room where the mop and bucket lived. He cleaned the entire entrance until it was spotless. The blue and white tiling of the front entrance was once again sparkling clean, so clean you could see your face if you looked close enough. His mandated cleaning completed, the bucket was emptied, the mop returned, and the sink was sprayed down. Satisfied that her floor once again was clean enough to eat off, she grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him to his room. Struggling to keep up with her pace, Jimmy jogged behind his Mom as she took him to the space underneath the stairs where he slept. Pulling down his pants revealed his wet pull-up. With machine-like efficiency, she removed it, wiped his privates and bum, and pulled up the fresh, clean one. A quick sprinkle of baby powder down the front, and she was done. The whole time, she was reminding him that things must always be perfect, always be clean. The final knife in the barrage of insults was her chastising him for still wetting his pants like a baby. Now clean and dry, he was told to sit down and play quietly. She had several videos to film, and he had already put her behind schedule. He stepped into the small space that was his bedroom and heard the door close, the lock sliding into place. Jimmy was in the dark, all before he could even sit down. Blindly waving his hand in the air, he attempted to grasp the string that he needed to illuminate his room. After a few empty swipes, he finally caught the string in his hand. Wrapping his small hand around the string, he pulled the string of the one light that illuminated his space. The sudden burst of light caused him to cover his eyes in slight pain. The light flash faded to black, and as he returned to consciousness, the morning rays peered through his curtains and right onto his face. Opening his eyes and rubbing eye crusties out, Jimmy gave a big morning stretch and a yawn as he began to move from underneath his covers. The familiar crinkle of his plastic sheets and the taped disposable medical brief around his waist didn’t even register with him anymore. He put his hand on the crotch of his taped disposable brief, and as usual, it was soaked. Jimmy gave a resigned sigh at the familiar feeling of a soaked brief (he refused to call them diapers, his ego had taken enough blows). Trudging from his bedroom to the bathroom just across the hall, he closed the door and pulled the shower curtain closed. As he turned the hot water knob, he heard the familiar groaning sound as water ran through the apartment’s pipes and into his shower. He didn’t have to wait for the water to warm up. His apartment complex was practically brand new, but out of habit, he waited for the water to warm. Jimmy used this warm-up time to grab his towel and washcloth, making sure it was a clean one. Mist was just starting to spill over from the shower as he turned to the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door and sighed at what stared back at him. Nothing about the image staring back at him made him happy. Staring at the slowly fogging mirror was a short twenty-two-year-old man, five feet five inches tall according to his driver's license, but he had worn lifts that day to ensure it. His body was skinny and underdeveloped physically. His body hair was hard to see as it was barely darker than the light blonde hair on his head. He usually kept his hair high and tight. He regarded his youthful face and the distinct lack of stubble on it. Even if he tried to grow a beard, it took forever, came in patchy, and looked awful. Between his legs sagged the well-used medical brief, which was one of the great sources of shame for Jimmy. You would think that after a lifetime of bedwetting, he wouldn’t care so much, but he couldn’t help it. To him, it was just another flaw, just another reason that he would always be alone and never find someone to love him. The mirror was now completely fogged up from the steam, so he quickly removed the tapes of his sodden brief before wrapping it up tight and putting it in the trash can. Stepping into the hot shower, he began to wash off last night’s shame from his body. He thoroughly scrubbed himself with body wash and a washcloth. Scrubbing away any hint of urine that could follow him into the office this morning. Stepping out of the shower and toweling himself off, he slapped on some deodorant. Smelling fresh, Jimmy made his way, towel wrapped around his waist, to the bedroom portion of his studio apartment. The indented space was full of shelves and metal rods running horizontally at varying levels. All of his clothes were neatly hung by a series of identical white plastic coat hangers on the lower bars, and to reach the top shelf, he needed a step stool. To the left was a bag of absorbent pull-on briefs silently mocking him. Grabbing a fresh one from the package, he carefully stepped into the briefs and pulled them into place. Next to the bag of briefs is a large bottle of talcum powder. Turning the lid of the container, Jimmy pulled out the front of his brief and dusted himself with a liberal amount of talcum powder. Jimmy was just glad it was Friday. Friday meant he didn’t have to be in uniform at the call center today. Casual Friday, really just means a Polo Shirt and sneakers. It really wasn’t that different from the button-up shirt and dress shoes he wore the rest of the week. He selected his favorite solid navy blue Polo shirt and grey dress slacks from their hangers, and threaded his black slide buckle belt through the loops of his pants. Now clothed, he walked back across the hall to his bathroom. Moving his stepstool in front of the bathroom sink with the large mirror set above it, he grabbed his squeegee brush from the adjacent hook on the wall. With practiced strokes, he removed the condensation that had accumulated on the mirror. Returning the squeegee to the hook, he stepped down off the stool. He then removed the tub cleaner from underneath the sink and sprayed down the shower and tub. Taking his trusty sponge from its holder under the sink, he thoroughly scrubbed down his tub and the surrounding tile. Next was the full-length mirror on the door, still fogged with condensation. He removed a squeegee, half the size of the other, from its hook and cleaned off the full-length mirror as well. Looking at his bathroom one more time, to his immense satisfaction, it looked like it hadn’t even been used, and that’s the way he liked it. Jimmy walked over to his bed and began pulling the sheets back into place on the queen-size bed. He tucked the sheets in tight and neat, making sure to tuck them in with hospital corners. Satisfied with the flat, smooth sheets, he pulled the comforter up into place and tucked it in as well, his pillows trapped underneath. Morning cleaning complete, it was time for breakfast. Jimmy poured himself a bowl of Raisin Bran and sat at his kitchen island. Scrolling through the latest local and national news, he mechanically moved the spoon from the bowl to his mouth. Depositing his bowl in the dishwasher, he glanced at the clock on the stove. Jimmy saw that it was currently six forty-five in the morning. He was on time, as usual. After quickly wiping down the countertops of any stray bran flakes, he swept the kitchen floor for any minuscule particles of dust that had built up since cleaning up dinner last night. Looking back at the living room and kitchen of his apartment, Jimmy was satisfied with how clean it looked. His apartment looked like it could be the model apartment that complexes showed off to prospective renters. There was everything you would expect: couches, end tables, lamps, a television, but it all felt artificial. The apartment had no feeling of being lived in. That didn’t bother Jimmy. This cleanliness and picture-perfect presentation were all he had ever known. He had no concept of a feeling of hominess, of a place being filled with warmth and personality. Next to the door on a low hook hung Jimmy’s work bag. The bag was a mix of work items and personal items. His lunch, work laptop, and a spare pull-on ultra-absorbent brief, along with travel-size powder and wipes, were contained within. He hated that he was forced to pack extra protection, because he knew that meant he was admitting that he would need a change. Just underneath the dangling bag, there was a bench with neatly arranged rows of shoes on the underside. Grabbing his red New Balance shoes, he slipped them on with practiced ease and grabbed his bag. He took one last look around the apartment to make sure he hadn’t left anything potentially hazardous on. Doing a final check of his pockets, feeling his keys, wallet, and phone, Jimmy turned off the overhead lights and exited his apartment. Locking the door to his fifth-floor apartment, Jimmy quickly made his way down the stairs and outside to the bus stop, arriving at five minutes to seven, just like he did every morning. The bus arrived five minutes late, much to Jimmy’s chagrin. Stepping onto the bus and swiping his Metro Pass, he was greeted by the same friendly driver who always was on this route. An uneventful twenty minutes later, the bus arrived at Jimmy’s stop in the heart of downtown Cincinnati. The bus deposited him just across the street from his work. Making his way to the street corner, he hustled across the crosswalk while it was still showing the Walk sign. Stopping a moment to catch his breath, Jimmy made his way to the front door of Hermes Insurance Inc’s soaring downtown headquarters. Doing his best not to be swept up by the revolving door, he carefully made his way to the security station. Swiping his badge at the reader, the turnstile gate opened with a click. The elevator bank was just beyond, and he was lucky enough to catch the polished gold elevator doors before they could close completely. Seeing that he had the elevator to himself, he quickly pressed the button for the tenth floor so he could keep it that way. The rapidly ascending elevator deposited him on his desired floor. He made his way to the break room to get ready for the workday. Depositing his prepared meal, made the night before, into the communal refrigerator, Jimmy took a seat to wait for the start of his shift at eight. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to prepare himself to be yelled at all day. He hated his job, his coworkers, and his boss was the worst. His choice of jobs hadn’t been large in this struggling economy. You took whichever jobs were available. As the clock flipped to eight o’clock on the dot, Jimmy swiped his badge at the check-in station. Hustling to his cubicle in the back of the room, he quickly sets up for the day. Once his computer finally booted up, he was able to sign in to all necessary work programs. He grabbed the headset from its dock built into his office phone. He exhaled as he put the headset on and once again attempted to steel himself for the day ahead. Marking himself ready to receive calls, Jimmy prayed that his first customer would be nice and not a mean customer. Jimmy was pleasantly surprised when, after reading his scripted answering prompt, the voice on the other end of the line was a kindly elderly woman who had dialed the wrong number. Quickly assuring her that it was not a problem, he switched to the next caller. This time, he wasn’t so lucky. The customer on the line was very audibly frustrated as Jimmy read through his case. By the end of the call, the man was screaming in his ear, calling him names like “idiot, useless, fool,” and eventually demanding to speak to a supervisor. He did as asked, even though his Supervisor would just tell the customer the same things he had. As Jimmy disconnected from the call, he felt a small spurt of pee escape into his padded brief. Yelling customers always made him anxious. They caused him to inadvertently clench himself as if he was trying to pull away from the voice on the other end of the phone. So when the call ended and he relaxed, a small spurt escaped into his brief. For the thousandth time, Jimmy cursed his anxiety and urge incontinence. Thankfully, no one at work knew about this, and he wanted to keep it that way. He just knew the department head would humiliate him if he knew about the incontinence. He was the nephew of one of the C Suite executives, and he walked around knowing he was untouchable. He blatantly played favorites, taking work off of the people he liked, and shoving more on the ones he didn’t. Jimmy was very firmly in the category of people he didn’t like. Jimmy had no clue why. He had barely interacted with the man outside of yes sir or no sir. If he had to guess, he believed it was likely that he was small, scrawny, timid, and quiet, the perfect combination for any bully’s ire. He tried to be pleasant, but it just seemed to piss the man off even more. Several hours and many involuntary spurts later, it was finally time for lunch. Jimmy ate quickly, using the remainder of his lunch to write a To Do list for himself, starting with this evening. The main task that needed to be completed was to stop by the diaper bank and restock his nighttime disposable briefs. He was down to half on his current bag and wanted to resupply before it got any lower. He didn’t want to risk running out and being left high and dry. He completed the list with several other minor cleaning tasks added on. Lunch about to end, Jimmy made his way to the Men’s room to change into a dry pull on briefs. Glancing around as he walked, to see if anyone else was in the bathroom before entering. Shutting himself in a stall, he quickly removed his slacks and placed them on the hook attached to the stall door. With practiced efficiency, he tore the sides of his wet brief and removed it. He put the used brief on the back of the toilet. Wiping himself down, he deposited the wipe in the open brief and rolled it up tight. Depositing the soiled brief into a sealable plastic bag, he quickly grabbed the dry brief and pulled it on. Quickly, dusting his intimate areas, he packed his bag back up and stepped back into his pants. As he was pulling up his pants so he could turn and grab the bag with the soiled brief, he heard the door to the bathroom open. He froze for a moment to allow the newcomer to enclose himself in a stall. Jimmy quickly flushed the toilet and left the stall. He tossed the soiled brief into the trash and washed his hands. He placed the wet paper towels over the bag, but before he could cover the bag any further, he heard the toilet flush and rushed out of the bathroom instead. Clocking back in at one pm on the dot, he returned to his station. Jimmy preferred the afternoons at work. Afternoons were when he took care of reports and forms that his boss had shoved off onto him, being too “busy” to do them himself. Doing reports meant he wasn’t taking calls, and no calls meant no yelling, and no yelling meant no spurts. Thirty minutes before quitting time, he finally completed all of his boss’s work for the day and printed out the reports to deliver them as instructed. Making his way to the dreaded “bro” department manager’s office, he timidly knocked on the office door. After being bidden to enter, he handed in the reports like he always did. He received a dismissive handwave from the boss, who never took his eyes off the computer screen. He turned to exit the office and return to his cubicle. As he was passing through the door frame, his boss called for him to return. Confused, he cautiously made his way back to the desk, and to his surprise, his boss complimented him for his work on the report. Suddenly, he was standing and walking around his desk to shake Jimmy’s hand. He was too stunned to react as his boss shook his hand. Still complimenting Jimmy’s work, he gently guided him out to the main call center floor. Loudly clapping his hands, he called for silence. Once he was sure he had everyone’s attention, he cleared his throat. “Thank you for your attention, folks. I have just received an email from HR reminding me that I have yet to complete this month’s training on workplace harassment. According to HR, I need to have a meeting with my whole team to discuss workplace harassment and provide examples of what to do to avoid harassing language and actions. Jimmy here has graciously volunteered to help me act out a few possible scenarios of workplace harassment. Hopefully, with these examples, you will all learn what language is acceptable and unacceptable in the workplace.” Jimmy’s anxiety spiked through the roof. Do a presentation with the boss? In front of everyone? With all of those eyes on him? He began to shake slightly at the pressure, as a small spurt made its way into his briefs. Looking over at his boss once he had stopped talking, Jimmy thought he might have seen a hint of a smirk on his boss’ face, but he couldn’t be sure. Jimmy waved it off as his anxiety. His boss was a dick, but he wasn’t evil. Right? His boss called his name, trying to get his attention. On the third repeat of his name, he came back to reality. His boss informed Jimmy that in this scenario, he was playing the part of the employee receiving harassment. His boss, Chad, would be playing the harassing coworker. In this scenario, Jimmy was being harassed for a medical condition. With their roles assigned, the scenario began. “Hey Jimmy! How’s it going, buddy?” “Um, good. How are you, Chad?” “I’m good, buddy. Say, do you smell that? Smells like pee!” Jimmy froze in place. This scenario was hitting too close to home for his liking. Did Chad know about his incontinence? Was he overthinking it? Was it possible that this was just the example scenario that someone in HR had assigned to be acted out? Some scenario picked at random from a generated list of possible harassment scenarios? “Hey, Jimmy! Earth to Jimmy! I asked you a question. Do you smell that?” “Ummm. No, I don’t smell anything.” “You don’t smell that? Smells like a baby to me. Smells like a baby with a pissy diaper. Any idea where that’s coming from, Jimmy?” “No…No idea. I don’t smell anything.” “No idea, huh? It wouldn’t have anything to do with the soaked diaper I found in the trash in the Men’s room, would it? Do you know anything about that Jimmy?” Jimmy’s mind was going a mile a minute, and his anxiety spiked even higher. Was this really the scenario? Was this really a coincidence, or had Chad found his brief in the trash after lunch? He felt himself spiraling into an anxiety attack, and suddenly, a warm wetness blooming from his crotch. Jimmy barely registered the spreading warmth, too in his own head to pay attention to any outside stimuli. It was only the sound of shocked gasps and a dripping sound that brought him back to reality. Looking around, Jimmy could see all of his coworkers still staring in his direction, but now their eyes were focused on his crotch. Jimmy looked down to see a large wet stain on the front of his pants, running down the legs to the floor, where a puddle had formed beneath him. In his anxious state, it seemed as if he had stopped holding his bladder and flooded his padded briefs. Not being designed for a flood of urine released from a full bladder, they had naturally leaked. His pants drenched, and a pool at his feet, Jimmy began to sob. His boss moved to his side with a look of sympathy on his face. “Ok, everybody, show’s over. Get back to work, and stop staring at poor Jimmy’s accident.” The rest of the office silently returned to their cubicles and got back to work. Jimmy’s sobs slowed into sniffles, and he looked up at his boss. His boss gave him a sympathetic smile, but Jimmy could swear he was actually smirking inside. His eyes seemed to give off a spark of glee, that this was hilarious, but he had to appear sympathetic. He bent down to whisper into Jimmy’s ear. “Do you have anything to change into? Another pull-up?” Jimmy didn’t even register that his boss had mentioned pull-ups, and that there should have been no way he would know that. He didn’t clock the false sympathy oozing from his boss’ voice. He just sniffled and shook his head. “Why don’t you go grab your stuff and leave a bit early then. No need to clock out, I’ll take care of it. You just hurry home and get dry!” Jimmy just nodded and started towards his desk. He thought he heard the faint sound of laughter behind him, but he couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t in his head, and he was laughing at himself. Quietly, he grabbed his laptop and personal items and walked towards the elevator. He was doing his best to keep the front of his soaked pants out of everyone’s eyeline, not realizing there was a large stain on the back of his pants as well. He quietly waited for the elevator, his head hung low, eyes focused on the ground. It felt like an eternity before the elevator dinged its arrival and opened. He shuffled in and made his way to the lobby. He just wanted to get out of this place. He couldn’t believe he had just wet himself in front of his boss and coworkers. How did that happen? That’s what he asked himself on the ride to the lobby, and all the way out the front door to the street. Art from Manga Kare to Kanojo no Chiguhagu by Manako.

Charlotte finds herself on her second lap of life, being reborn as Charlotte Marie Ashcroft. Having experienced decades of regression from her past life, Charlotte is weary of the magic that the running shoes possesses. When Charlotte receives the running shoes as a gift for her first birthday, all her doubts, fears, and concerns return to her when she confronts the shoes that nearly made her disappear. But old habits die hard, as Charlotte strangely finds herself drawn to the shoes once again. The shoes work their charm on her as they did in her past life, pushing Charlotte into another dilemma. Can Charlotte trust the strange magic from the running shoes? How do the shoes work? Has Charlotte sealed her fate once again? This story is a sequel to “The Running Shoes”, a story inspired from Olympiczero's "The Ballet Slippers". I strongly recommend that you check out his story as it is an amazing read, and the inspiration behind this entire story. His entire story can be found here in the link below: Having written “The Running Shoes”, I felt like there were some unanswered questions from the previous story. This “Second Lap” if you will, would address everything the last story didn’t cover, and it should tie up some loose ends on the mystery that is behind the mysterious running shoes. But be aware. Charlotte’s second lap is going to be a lot faster (shorter), so there will be a lot fewer chapters in this story. Consider this an abridged sequel with the pacing being a lot faster than the previous story. If you haven’t read “The Running Shoes”, I encourage you to read that story first. You can find that story here: But I recommend that you read the stories in the following order for the best experience and out of respect for the author who inspired me to write these two stories: - Olympic Zero’s “The Ballet Slippers” - The Running Shoes - The Running Shoes – Second Lap This story is the official second part to The Running Shoes and is to be treated as a tribute, and my own unique spin on the original classic. Fans of “The Ballet Slippers” should be familiar with the theme and how this story serves as a spiritual continuation of the original classic. Enjoy the story! So yes. I am finally working on the sequel. As for updates, they will will be done as I find time to do them. I am very busy so I'll try to keep this story updated when I can. Enjoy everyone! Prologue - Second Lap Charlotte Marie Ashcroft woke up in an incubator in the NICU at Kaiser Permanente Santa Rosa Medical Center in Santa Rosa, California. Despite it being only two days since Charlotte was born, the newborn Charlotte felt a strong feeling a Déjà vu inside of her. While everything felt very new to her, there was a lingering familiarity at the same time. It was like Charlotte had experienced life before. A past life that she had a full memory of. Much of this was weighed down by her drowsiness as a newborn. Her long naps afforded her very little moments of consciousness while the nurses tended to her around the clock. As sleepy as Charlotte was, there was a strangeness that she felt that she just couldn’t let go. Decades from a past life that she was just beginning to ponder. A strong and powerful thought entered Charlotte’s mind. A thought that she had no memory of despite having the same thought a couple of days ago. ‘They listened. They gave me another chance. Another chance at life. They…It was…it was…’ Charlotte’s tired mind tried to process the rest of her train of thought. ‘It…it was…it was…the shoes.’ The shoes. The very thought of them made the newborn Charlotte smile again. The running shoes. The very tools that Charlotte thought that were working against her were actually listening to her the whole time. Here Charlotte was, just two days old, being stabilized in the NICU due to her being born one month premature. The incubator and the other machines were doing a wonderful job in keeping Charlotte alive and healthy. As the days passed, Charlotte received regular feedings from the nurses, which was usually followed by changing her diapers. Charlotte’s temperature was continually measured and she still needed an incubator due to her low birth weight unable to regulate her body temperature. Due to one frightening episode of apnea and three different episodes of bradycardia, Charlotte still needed a ventilator for the first couple weeks of her life. Charlotte, as drowsy as she was, slowly pieced together all the scattered fragments of her past life. As strange as it was, Charlotte felt like this past life was her very own, making her current life a continuation of her original life. Charlotte could feel her fingers reflexively close around nurses that laid their fingers on her palms. As they did this, another fond thought entered Charlotte’s mind: her name. ‘I….Who am I? I am….my name is….Charlotte…Warren…’ But that wasn’t right. While Charlotte was very close, the fragmented memories from her mother’s wedding were still jumbled together in her mind. A few days later, Charlotte heard a noise which startled her. At the same time, this loosened something inside of Charlotte. ‘My name….I am…Charlotte Ashcroft. I have….a big sister….Lauren Ashcroft….My mother’s name….Darcy Ashcroft….My father’s name….Michael Ashcroft….’ All this was enough for Charlotte to immediately fall asleep. One thing that Charlotte immediately noticed was how strange and different her dreams were. Despite being only a newborn, Charlotte had numerous dreams where she was already an adult. Charlotte could only guess that these dreams were only various memories from her past life. Charlotte snapped awake to suddenly forget just how small she actually was. The Charlotte that she saw in her dreams was a Charlotte that had already ran the first lap. Being a newborn again, Charlotte reasoned that this was her second lap. Her return to consciousness was swiftly met with an overwhelming feeling of fatigue and a sensory overload that overwhelmed her to the point of tears. “WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!” A NICU nurse immediately attended to Charlotte. She checked her breathing and temperature and made sure that Charlotte was adequately fed. After the nurse changed Charlotte’s diaper, she fed her. Another thing that Charlotte didn’t realize was that her mother visited her every day. Darcy often visited Charlotte, but it was usually during the long spans of time that Charlotte slept. Darcy often held Charlotte under the supervision of the NICU staff before giving her new baby girl back to them for her continued care. During one moment that Charlotte woke up, she was almost two weeks old, and she could feel herself swaddled by loving arms. A gentle hum filled her ears, which sounded like a lullaby. It sounded…familiar. Like she had heard this voice before. It was…Charlotte knew it was her. Mother. Mom. Mommy. Mama. Charlotte would’ve uttered ‘mama’, but realized that her vocal cords couldn’t process speech yet. So she cooed instead when she felt the warmth of her mother cradling her. She was cradled in her mother’s arms and she felt safe. Two weeks passed. Darcy was getting into a white limousine with Lauren. A look of eagerness came over Darcy’s face as she found her favorite spot in the back seat of the limo: the right most seat facing the window. Darcy sat in the tan leather seat and buckled herself in. Lauren, not caring what seat she took, buckled herself in the middle seat next to Darcy and smiled. “So are you finally taking Charlotte home, mommy?” Darcy shrugged her shoulders. At this point, she was used to her adult daughter calling her mommy, as it has been more than a year since the wedding. Lauren was indeed her daughter now. Legally, yes. But for Darcy it was much more than that. Darcy then thought of her daughter’s question. Is Charlotte coming home today? This, Darcy knew was a matter that she didn’t have any control over. It was all up to the doctors and nurses at the NICU to decide when Charlotte was ready to come home. And at this point in time, it has been 23 days since Charlotte was born now. “I don’t know,” Darcy finally said. “It’s up to the doctors. Charlotte needs to be healthy enough to breathe on her own. Don’t you remember her birth weight? It was only 2 pounds and 9 ounces!” Lauren gave her mother an understanding nod. Lauren knew that this was normal for a baby that was born one month premature. In nine more days, Charlotte would be coming up to her actual due date of December 10th. “I know, mommy. I just want to see my baby sister at home where she belongs. I mean, won’t it be great to put her in that new nursery?” Darcy smiled at the mention of the nursery. This was a fun project that both her and Lauren both worked on. It gave them both time to bond beautifully as new mother and new daughter. Even though it has been a year since Darcy married Michael, having Lauren as her daughter was still new, and working on Charlotte’s nursery together was the best idea ever. They both shared laughter, stories, and burdens as they both worked on the important room that Charlotte would be staying in. What Lauren liked the most was that she actually had the time to work on the nursery with her mother. Even since Charlotte was born, Lauren took a sabbatical from her modeling to help Darcy with taking care of Charlotte. All the details that they put into the nursery were all personal and done with love and care. Lauren smiled as she glanced at the sun glistening into the window of the limo as it coasted down the long driveway leading to the gate of the Ashcroft Estate. She glanced at her mother and smiled. “I can’t wait for Charlotte to come home.” “Me too.” Darcy told her. “I’m so happy that I was able to have a child. It really felt like God was giving me another chance at being a mother, considering the miscarriage that happened more than 31 years ago…” “He gave you two more chances,” Lauren said, pointing to herself. “You lost your husband and a baby, and I lost my mother to breast cancer. I am happy that you are my mother now. I am also happy about how understanding IMG Models was in letting me take a sabbatical.” Darcy nodded. “IMG Models was also generous with my maternity leave. When they found out that I had a preemie, they told me to take as much time as I need.” The minutes seemed to fly on by as the two continued to share their stories, their lives, and their tears with each other. Darcy now knew that Lauren was the daughter that she never had. A daughter that God just gave to her freely, along with Charlotte. It felt much less like a legally binding agreement and more like Lauren being like her own flesh and blood. Her daughter just as much as Charlotte was. A friendly honk of the horn snapped them both out of their reverie. Both women swiftly ended their discussion and glanced up at the driver. The rear glass divider separating the passengers from the driver rolled down and he pointed out the window. “We are here,” the limo driver announced in a pleasant tone. “The NICU at Kaiser Permanente Santa Rosa Medical Center.” Lauren smiled. “Thank you, Jenkins. I will call you on my cell phone when we are getting ready to leave.” “Very good,” Jenkins said with a jovial smile. “You two wonderful ladies have a great time in visiting your new member of the family.” Lauren kindly pointed to Jenkins. “And you have a fun time too, Jenkins! Don’t exclude yourself from the fun. The Ashcroft family includes you as well. No worker is excluded. So have fun!” Jenkins respectfully tipped his hat and nodded. “I will have fun, Miss and Mrs. Ashcroft!” The two entered the NICU and the staff permitted Lauren to enter without any hesitation. Darcy was already approaching the respirator that Charlotte was laying in when her mind began to catch up to the present. All she heard was that “Charlotte needed a little more time”. “Charlotte was breathing, but not long enough on her own”. She also heard that Charlotte’s sleep apnea was improving, and there were now zero cases of bradycardia. Darcy was about to pick up Charlotte when a voice stopped her. “May I, mommy?” Lauren said with a pleading face. Darcy gave Lauren a warm smile. “Only if it’s okay with the nurses.” The nurse, who called herself Breanna, nodded. “She can. At this point, we are just taking safety measures to ensure that Charlotte is ready to come home. With only one case of sleep apnea last week, Charlotte is getting very close to being able to breathe on her own. We monitored her yesterday and she was able to breathe for two whole hours on her own!” Lauren’s smile grew as she heard of the good report from Nurse Breanna. She grinned as she held her new baby sister in her arms. Charlotte was fast asleep, making small and gentle breaths. “My cute wittle baby daughter!” Lauren cooed. Then an explosion. FLUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRP!!!! Lauren sniffed the air and laughed. “Whoopsie! It looks like my baby sister needs a changie poo!” Darcy nodded and grabbed Charlotte. “Let me. I’ve been changing her diapers since they first admitted her here. Don’t worry, Laurie. You’ll have plenty more diapers to change when she’s at home.” Lauren nodded, secretly relieved that she didn’t have to change Charlotte’s messy diaper. She handed her baby sister to Darcy, who laid her right on a table that the NICU used for diaper changes. Darcy began changing Charlotte’s diaper, encouraging Lauren to watch everything that she was doing. “Pay attention,” Darcy said with a smirk. “You will be doing a few of these when she comes home.” Darcy unsnapped the buttons on Charlotte’s plain white onesie and peeled open the tapes of Charlotte’s diaper. She smiled as she heard her daughter gasp when she saw what was inside. A big wet gooey mess covered the inside of the diaper and Charlotte’s diaper area. “I can’t believe how small that diaper is!” Lauren said with a gasp. Darcy laughed. “Yeah. That’s a P1. Charlotte is just about ready for size N, which is newborn.” As Darcy wiped Charlotte clean, she could see Charlotte’s eyes begin to squint open. She saw her baby daughter’s mouth open up with a widening smile. “Yeah!” Darcy said with a smile. “Mommy’s changing your stinky diapy! And look! Your big sister is here too!” All Charlotte did was smile and coo at the sound of Darcy’s voice. Minutes later, Darcy had a diaper all powdered and began to delicately fold it between Charlotte’s tiny legs. Charlotte’s eyes flickered as she just stared at the two large women that were next to her. While Charlotte knew that the first one was her mother, she didn’t know who the other one was. Who is that? Who is that other lady? While Charlotte was supposed to know, her memories were too repressed to even know who she was. All she had was a blank slate. A new body with a new mind. A mind and brain that was just beginning to boot up. A mind that would take at least 2 to 3 years to begin to develop. Charlotte drifted off, sleeping what she felt like was a few minutes. But when Charlotte woke up, she was in her respirator again. Her mother and that strange woman that accompanied her were gone. In reality, Charlotte slept for a few hours. The NICU nurses continued caring for Charlotte, changing her diaper, feeding her, and putting her in her ventilator as needed. A couple of days later, Charlotte was showing remarkable improvement. After breathing for two hours without a ventilator, this turned into three. Three hours turned into four. And then five. Six hours. Seven hours. Eight hours of breathing without a ventilator. The NICU nurses then carefully watched Charlotte around the clock as she slept for the first full night without a ventilator. Darcy was impressed when she visited Charlotte that day. With Charlotte’s health improving, Darcy now wanted to get answers from the doctors. When can Charlotte finally go home? That same day, Darcy got her answer. One week. One week later, Charlotte squinted her eyes open. While everything inside of her felt brand new, there was at the same time a part of Charlotte that couldn’t help but notice that something felt familiar. It was like she had lived this life before. But how? How could I have lived this life? This awareness dissolved into the drowsy and perpetually sleeping newborn self that Charlotte was. A self that felt almost overwhelmed by the brand-new world that awaited her. Everything was new. Sounds. Sights. Smells. And Déjà vu. This feeling lay dormant inside of the newborn Charlotte like a sleeping volcano. A volcano waiting for the opportune time to erupt. But something else erupted instead. “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!” All the NICU nurses agreed. The doctors agreed. Even Darcy agreed. This was Charlotte’s day. After 32 days of hospitalization since her birth, it was finally time for Charlotte Marie Ashcroft to leave Kaiser Permanente Santa Rosa Medical Center. It was finally time to go home.

Finally getting a chance to tryout the banana trick soon. I’ve read about people using up to 6 whole bananas, and while I’m sure they mean smaller ones, just imagining taking in 6 massive bananas.. only to struggle in attempts not to mess them out. And how long it’d take to push them all out… Will update EDIT: I’m currently sitting diapered up trying to hold everything in. I started with some mini marshmallows to loose up before the first half. A lot of the banana squished but after the first they started to pop in. I did 2 medium bananas and mini marshmallows until I felt super full. Now I’m holding it desperately writing this update. EDIT II: I didn’t end up lasting long, and soon most of the bananas blasted into my diaper. I could still feel more though, and as I got exhausted of pushing, one more half banana log shot out involuntarily. Squishing it around and sitting in it felt amazing and just like the real thing. I then did my business (heh) and cleaned everything up. I have suspicions about more banana being left so I threw on another diaper for a short nap. EDIT III: I think it all came out. It’s partly hard to believe that what came out was nearly 2 whole bananas, but it did basically fill my whole diaper. And inserting them was a bit more trouble than I expected so I thought the thicker ones hadn’t come yet. But in all it was a very nice experiment

Hi, Have been lurking some time but here's a first try (and first chapter) of a story. I plan it to be a long one. English is not my native language, so there might be some quirks in grammar. I hope it's not to inconvenient. Though this is about an underage young boy, and there will be scenes of diapering and spanking included, nothing is erotic. Basically it will turn into a feel-good romantic and-they-lived-happily-ever-after. Cliche, i know, but i'll try to make the cliche proud. Feedback is welcome, let me know if this is any good. And if site admin's feels the story is inappropriate, let me know and remove it. --------------- The broken teapot 1 Jenny Miller rode her old Toyota up the short driveway to the closed fence where the security officer checked all in and out going traffic, lowered the window at the driver side and showed her id. "Good morning Mrs Miller, how are you today? " said the good humored officer to her. "Hi Nathan, good morning to you to. It's back-to-work-day, looking forward to the weekend-day already" He chuckled at the bad habitual joke they made everyday since she started working at the State Special Correctional Centre for Young Offenders, pushed the button on his desk to open the fence and waved her through. Slowly Jenny let the car roll forward to the massive looking building up the end of the pebbled path. It was old, just begging for a good paint-job. Some old buildings have a certain charm about them. But not this one, seeming to shout "Go away" to everyone who dared to approach it. After 4 years of working as a counselor she'd gotten used to it but in her mind she could very well picture the impression it made upon anyone who's was first brought here for "correction". It looked like a prison, as it was. She parked her car at the spaces for staff just left from the big central stairway that led to the entrance, got her bag from the passenger seat and walked up the stairs, pressed the buzzer on the left side of the big heavy double doors and looked strait up at the camera also on the left. With a small sound and harsh click the door sprung slightly open. She pushed it further and walked in on an impressive hallway where the marble floor and high ceiling augmented every sound that was made. "Hi Jenn", the secretary down the hall greeted her from the stall were every person that came through the door was supposed to check in. Jenny noted her name and entrance time in the log and was about to move on to her office in the building when the secretary informed her that Mr. Halloway would like to see her as soon as she was available. "Oh, of course" she answered and instead of turning left she walked right up the corridor where the Director's office was situated. It wasn't and odd request. Henry often called her in when he needed some advice on one of the pupils they used to call them here. That was her job after all. All correctional institutes were required to have a counselor on staff to have someone on the payroll outside the chain of command with the authority to go over the warden's head if necessary. Given the sensitive nature of the correction's at this specific institute it was a no brainer. It prevented tunnel vision's and helped to keep the entire group of guardians and officers responsible for the daily handling of their pupils on the right side of the thin line between "correctional" and "abusive" behavior. "Good morning, Jenny!" The big athletic build man on the other side of an impressively big, but equal impressive messed up desk, veered up from his chair and waved her in when she had opened the door and peeked in to see if he was busy. Henry Halloway was everything you wouldn't expect a warden of an state correctional institute to be. He wore a loose leather jacket over a heavy metal printed shirt. Long black hair was bound with a leather thong at the back. As counterweight to this, slightly menacing first appearance, was a comical small set of reading glasses that never seemed able to stay at place on his hawkish nose where he pushed it regularly, every minute or so. "Have a seat. Had a good weekend? Had some coffee yet?" He rapidly fired these question's without waiting for an answer and walked strait to the side of the room, poured two steaming mugs of pitch black coffee and offered one to the slim medium height women that had made herself comfortable in one of the chairs across the desk.. At her mid thirties, Jenny looked every inch the friendly professional she was. Anyone who saw her the first time got the same message from her appearance, clothing and manners: "Hey, I like to keep things neat, orderly and organized. But also simple and practical. No fuss. I am here for you, but don't expect me to save you if you don't want to help yourself" It helped to reach some of the more challenging pupils they housed at this institute while keeping the professional distance between them at the same time. Only the ones who had known her longer could recognize the faint aura of sadness that surrounded her the last couple of years. They chatted a couple of minutes about their weekend. As usual Henry's had been far more eventful than Jenny's. She laughed at his retelling of the heavy metal concert he had visited on his motorcycle, a foul stench emanating, god forsaken roaring Harvey with which he always arrived at this institute. "OK, what have you got for me this time" Jenny turned Henry's attention to working matters. "We got a new group yesterday." Henry moved to his own chair and picked up a dossier from the pile on his left. "There is an interesting new pupil i would have you to take a look at" Jenny took the file, flicked the cover open to the first page and started to scan the information on the pages. As usual it didn't take her long to digest the most important fact's from the file. "Wow, 10 years old, isn't that a tad on the young side for this place?", was her first comment. "Yes, just turned ten, was surprised myself. You know the most of 'm are between 14 and 16/17. We have had younger ones from time to time but always at least thirteen. Not one from elementary" "So?, how come?" "Well, as you can see in the file, his record is quite impressive. Theft's and even burglary's. And no simple stuff. I mean, he wasn't stealing apples here. An old necklace worth several thousands was his last price" "Most judges would take his age in account" . "True, but he got old Farlington this time..And it was his third strike. With the stricter policies our government agreed on last September he saw no way out this time. It would have to be some jail time. So he put him up for two weeks here, judging that our special approach would benefit this fellow. Guess he was just fed up with this youngster, wanted to teach him a heavy lesson and never see him again" "But you're having doubt's" "Yeah......" Henry fell silent and fidgeted with one of the pencil's on his desk. Collecting his thought's. Jenny was a good listener. Leaving silences or a few words were often enough to get people to tell the story they wanted to tell. She waited patiently for Henry to resume his account but inward a tingle of not being right was manifesting itself already. Considering herself old fashioned when coming to the subject of raising children, she had absolutely no qualms of using spankings as a form of discipline. In fact, she had had to use this method a couple of times in the past. Otherwise it would have been impossible for her to work at this place of course. Jail time, as in most juvenile institutes, had proven almost non-effective in correcting boys send there. Therefore a couple of years ago this institute was founded. The thought was that confinement, combined with daily spankings would yield more results. These were the midwest, after all, and still the nineties. But ..... Ten...., just, and now being confronted with the realities of this institute, God!. she thought "He was brought in yesterday afternoon" Henry resumed. "A small group this time, four. Three guys 16/17 and he. As usual we got them booked and let them change in our sweat's and t-shirts. We gave him the smallest we have of course but he still drowned in them. You know they all come with a court directive about how long their daily mandatory spanking must take and which implements may be used. " Jenny nodded. "So Gary, the correctional officer on duty, explained that to them and started right away with the first session. And let me say right up front, Gary is a good man, he did nothing wrong. We can argue that he is a bit inflexible but followed all the rules. He bent the first over his desk, trousers dropped and started. He had to use the long ruler for this one and a strap. I must say this guy was a though one. He sweared the whole procedure but eventually showed some tears. That youngster was next, scared to death. A colleague had to held him bent over the desk. I saw on camera that Gary was a bit put off by his age and small demeanor but he abided by the court order this young man was given. That was 30 and two by the way." Jenny gulped. 30 meant that the correctional officer was ordered to give no less than 30 spanks with a bare hand, as kind of warming up, and 30 for every implement that was ordered. As usual, on arrival the bare hand spankings were omitted if an implement had been ordered. And one always was. That meant that this 10 year old had been sentenced to at least 90, with 60 from ruler, spoon, strap or even whip if needed, every evening of his two weeks stay at this institute! Henry nodded, acknowledging her surprise. "He used the short ruler and spoon on him, the mildest choice's if you ask my opinion. Now what surprised me. this younster didn't offer a sound. Though we could see how much it hurt. He stayed silent the whole time" Jenny lifted her eyebrow, also showing some surprise. "And after?" "We let them stand with their noses to the wall, as you know. Till we are finished with 'm all. He could hardly stay standing, knees almost giving out under him, his face red from silent tears. When we brought them to their "rooms" to wait for dinner he fell face forward on his bed. We tried waking him up for dinner but he fell asleep so the officer in charge let him sleep it out." "Good call i think" Jenny interrupted. "You could expect something like that, so this isn't why you asked for my opinion, Am I right?" "No." Henry resumed. "We checked upon him the whole evening of course, covered him with a blanket, he didn't move a muscle. But this morning, when we woke him up, he crawled to the corner of his bed. Held his blanket up on him. The officer who woke him said he saw some sort of primal fear in his eyes. Whatever that means. It took some struggle to get it off him. He, his bed, the blankets were soaking wet. The officer in charge let him take all to the laundry, let him take a shower and gave him a new set of clothes. He was shivering with fright at first, that left somewhat when the officers stayed neutral. Of course, it was quickly known with all the boy's that our newest "guest" had wet his bed. Now as staff, we'll manage with this of course. What worries me most was the group's reaction." Jenny again lifted an inquiring eyebrow. "You see, one could hope for an understanding reaction from the other boy's, like big brother's who instinctively take to caring for the littlest of them all. Helping him through. He's clearly no thread for any of 'm. But I'm afraid it's turning the other way. At breakfast he was bullied, made fun off and his plate was thrown on the ground. We know, not uncommon but this time they took it to the merciless extremes. Giving him no rest...... he took it quietly sitting at the table's. When the group moved to class, a group of the oldest cornered him, tripped him, pulled his pants down and threatened to make him their "baby-bitch", excuse me for the choice of words. When we got to the situation he fled to his cell and sat in the corner again, his blanket pulled around him. We tried talking to him, but we can't connect it seems. He hasn't moved an inch since" Henry fell silent. Jenny let the story sink in. Of course, all maternal instincts in her flared up, and she recognized her feelings. But this was still a three times convicted thief, they were talking about. She had to keep her professional insights on the fore. Henry was the first to break the silence. Looking past Jenny into thin air. "They'll have him for breakfast, lunch and dinner, Jen." he said softly. "The spanking directives, I think they are harsh for a boy his age, but he can survive them. It's the atmosphere around the group we have in currently. We'll do our utmost but can't protect him everywhere. He'll find no support. Somehow, they will find a way to pass him off to each other, feeding of his fear. They'll eat him alive. After two weeks, what scraps will be left of him?" Jenny thought about this, already inclined to agree, but again........ "We have been fooled by young angelic convicts turning demon before, Henry" Holding up her hand as Henry was about to interfere. "But I tend to agree with you that this one doesn't seem to be made of the same stuff as the older one's. In the file is no mention of motive, am i correct?" "Correct, he never said why, never mentioned a name. The group home that was responsible for him and his school were played, somehow. Stupid staff there, if you ask me. They both had no idea of his activities, but it's hard to imagine that he did all this alone. Lots of blanks in his life's story. An' he offered nothing in his questioning. But again, he was busted trying to pawn that necklace I mentioned, on his own! The fingerprints at the house he last broke into to get it were circumstantial evidence enough." "Interesting. Any fights, violence?" "No. And maybe that's why he slipped trough the mazes for so long. He didn't draw enough attention." "Where is he now?" "In his cell, the corner." "Well, let's have a look. You have a camera on him?." Henry nodded and Jenny moved to stand beside him at his computer screen. He hesitated. Jenny looked at him, asking silent for the problem. "I eh, need to warn you Jen, We have known each other a good couple of years now and God, how I know what you have been dealing with, but......I cannot soften this" He flicked the screen on. At first Jenny, puzzled by the warden's last remarks, couldn't see much more than a mountain of blanket, huddled in the corner of the cell. Then, Henry closed in on the face and Jenny gasped, turning white as chalk. A normal young, tear stricken face was looking past the camera. Slightly red curling hair dancing in all directions. A small nose that seemed to tip upward at the end and freckled apple cheeks that made him look adorable. His eyes were light brownish looking nowhere and Jenny understood what the guard had meant by 'primal fear'. But that was not what shook her to the core of her being. She knew that face! Her stomach turned with remembrance and all the pain that flooded back in with it. "I'm sorry Jen" Henry whispered while he vacated his chair and let Jenny sink in it., staring incredulously at the screen before her. He tapped a glass of water and handed it over. Shaken she brought it to her lips. "What's his name again?" She could hardly voice the question.. "Jake, Jake Hanson" Silence. After a long time Jenny sighed.. "Let me think about it for a while and I'll make some calls" "You can use my office, take as long as you need..... or want." Henry patted her shoulder lightly in sympathy and left his office.