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  1. BAD SEED C.K. Cute Kitten Cameron McLeod lay on his back, staring up at the white painted ceiling tile decorated with decals of teddy bears and ABC blocks. He sucked on the large rubber nipple, the plastic shield of the pacifier pressing against his lips. His hooded sweatshirt and onesie were pushed up to his armpits, and the plastic strap securing him to the changing table was tight; Mrs. Vesper had the unfortunate habit of fastening it too tight, as if she thought that somehow made it extra secure. He felt a tugging sensation on his hips and lower abdomen as a fresh diaper was taped around him. "A clean diapee feels better, doesn't it?" Ms. Sweeney chirped in her sugary sweet singsong voice. Her diaper changes were much gentler than Mrs. Vesper's. She had gotten called away by a phone call, so Ms. Sweeney had stepped in and finished changing him. He tilted his head, looking up at his teacher and licensed regression therapist. Her plump, ruby red lips smiled down at him and her brown eyes twinkled, full of the joy of life. Her short, curly black hair frizzed around her head like a fuzzy dark halo and huge rhinestones sparkled in her earlobes. She chattered away, mostly to herself, not expecting her charges to answer. Most of them could or would not. Cameron caught her eyes and returned her smile behind his binky. He was one of the few who could. He had a hand full of classmates in the special education; regression therapy curriculum. His only reply to her was a smile. Dirty diaper, clean diaper, it made no difference to the eighteen year old. He had been in diapers since he was six. The last day he had worn big boy underwear- they had a print of Spiderman, he recalled that specifically- his life had changed forever. He shivered at the memory, his heart skipping a beat "It's cold, huh, baby?" Ms. Sweeney cooed as if he were a toddler. "Let's get you all fixed up and snugly warm again." She unfastened the changing table security strap, pulled down his blue onesie down, fastening it over his diaper. He heard the metal snaps click shut, pressing the padded bulk closer to him and felt some of the cool baby powder shift in his diaper, sliding down towards his butt. He felt her tugging on his pants and heard all those snaps click shut. The cold was not what made him shiver, but that was something he did not want to talk or think about. He was happy the cool days of early autumn were growing colder as winter approached. Wearing pants and long sleeves was a lot more acceptable in the cold weather than it was in the warm. It was normal. He would rather be stared at for being dressed like a weirdo in the warm weather than to expose what lay beneath his clothing, and he did not mean his diapers. The snaps on all his pants, and the telltale bulge of a thick diaper, coupled with the loud crinkly noise they made, all gave away his diapered state anywhere he went. No, what he hid from the world was the painful mementos of the fateful day that changed the course of his life forever. That day was the reason he still wore diapers, and why he was in the regression therapy program. Ms. Sweeney watched her student's pretty face crumple. Cameron had better control of his emotions than her other students, and he was the one who had been through the most. He had also been through the most intensive therapy. When reading his files for the first time, she had been horrified at the nightmare the boy had survived. He had also spent several years in a mental hospital that specialized in intensive regression therapy. "What a cute ducky!" She tapped the yellow duck embroidered on the chest of his blue onesie. "What does the ducky say?" She asked, fearing he was having a melt down and wanted to distract him from it, like she would distract a baby having a tantrum. Cameron stared up at his teacher. He knew what she was trying to do, distract him from his thoughts. The technique worked with patients who had been mentally and emotionally regressed. It had worked on him in the hospital, when he had been little more than an overgrown infant. It worked on his classmates, who were kept emotionally regressed. He played along. "Woof-woof!" He spat his binky out. "Silly baby. Puppies say woof. Duckies go quack-quack." Ms.Sweeney cooed then pulled his hooded sweatshirt down, hiding his ducky and his onesie from sight. "Uh-oh." She smiled and slipped his binky back between his pink lips. Cameron opened his lips so she could slip the rubber nipple into his mouth. "There we go, all done!" She held out her hands, and Cameron placed his hands in hers, allowing her to help him sit up then jump down from the changing table. His hooded sweatshirt hung loose on his slim frame. It was light blue with white and baby blue stripes on the sleeves. His jeans would have passed for normal jeans except for the snaps running along the inner legs all the way up to his crotch, to make for easier diaper checks and changes. His plastic backed diaper crinkled noisily with each little movement and the thick padding around his crotch was familiar and comforting. "Tank yew." He lisped behind his binky to Ms. Sweeney as she tugged at his pants and shirt once more, fixing them now that he was standing. A little bit of drool ran down his chin and plopped down his ever-present bib. A bright yellow ducky clip with a blue strap secured his paci to his shirt. "You're welcome, sweetie. Go back to your seat now." She patted his heavily padded bottom then set about cleaning up the changing table and throwing his used diaper and wipes into the diaper genie. He started across the regression room, which resembled an adult-sized daycare. The thick bulk of his diaper forced his legs apart, giving him an unsteady toddler waddle. He toddled past the locked classroom door when loud voices drew his attention to the glass window in the heavy door. It was locked to prevent any regressed students from wandering out, for their own protection of course. The regression room was more like a daycare in the high school, and students in the regression therapy program were little more than oversized toddlers and babies. "Chill. Seriously. No need to get your dick in a knot, gramps." The voice was loud, female, and excessively annoyed. Cameron froze, shocked at the foul language coming out of a female mouth. He toddled to the door, peering out of the glass window for a lookie-loo. Normal students rarely passed down this hall, which had several special education classrooms. The only time other students or school personnel passed down the special education hall was when they were taking the long way to the school office. Through the glass, he saw a girl in black short shorts, ripped black stockings, black leather boots with spikes, and a baggy black sweatshirt. Spikes had been added to the collar and cuffs. The shirt was just as short as the shorts, exposing the girl's flat stomach. She wore metallic purple lipstick, and her eyes were heavily rimmed with black makeup that made her naturally pale skin the hue of a corpse. Metal spikes poked through the skin under her lower purple lip in a snake bite piercing. A matching, curved metal spike pierced her navel. Her most arresting feature was the left side of her exposed middle. Her once-smooth flesh was a mutilated pink and red ridgeline of deep scars. Rows like jagged, crooked canyons furrowed through her mutilated flesh, as if skin and hunks of meat had been ripped away. Behind her marched the school principal, Mr. Witherspoon, with a stern frown on his aged visage. "Young lady, you are already in violation of the dress code. It is your first day so I will let you off with a warning. Such language will NOT be tolerated here at Mapleton High. Any further infractions of the rules or insubordination to your teachers will result in punishment. Do I make myself clear?" The girl grinned crookedly. "Well, it's a little murky-" He cleared his throat, cutting her off in the middle of her shenanigans. She huffed a put-upon sigh. "Yes, sir." She reached under her half-a-sweatshirt to pull down a white tank top with a glittery black skull on it. "This better? My side was hurting. All hot and itchy, you know? Just needed some air on it. It's still healing." She stuck a finger bedecked with a skull ring into one of the canyons, pushing the shirt's cloth into the groove of missing flesh. Mr. Witherspoon visibly cringed. The girl smirked but quickly wiped her face when he opened his eyes. "Your shorts are still in violation of the dress code. Do NOT let it happen again." "Sure, sure." The girl dug her finger in more, rubbing the groove so the cloth stuck in, giving a hint to the mutilation it hid. The principal puckered his lips in distaste and she grinned like the Cheshire cat. "Well, if that's all sir, I'd better be off to class. Don't wanna be late." She clicked her booted feet together and gave him a sassy salute then dashed off down the hall. Mr. Witherspoon stepped in front of her, blocking her way. He leaned down close and said in a threatening tone, "I run a tight ship here. I will not allow this school's reputation to be tarnished. Parents depend and trust me to keep this institution and its students safe. I have read your files. I am perfectly aware of your past antics. I know your grandfather kept you from going to juvie, where you certainly belong. Or maybe in one of those regression camps for troublemaker youth. I will see you sent there if you so much as put another toe out of line. Do we understand each other, Liliana?" She rolled her eyes insolently, not cowed at all by the invasion of her personal space. She looked sideways and locked eyes for an instant with the prettiest boy she had ever seen. She smiled at the boink in his mouth. Cameron blushed, his face burning, as the girl caught him staring. Purple punk lips quirked in a smile. She winked at him. He realized he still was sucking on his boink. Humiliation washed over him. The new, trouble-making girl was laughing at the big baby boy. Just like all the other normal kids had when the school had attempted to mainstream him. He quickly spat his pacifier out, but it dangled from his ducky clip. Too little, too late- the girl was already looking away. "Liliana!" Mr. Witherspoon crossed his arms, looming over her. Her eyes snapped back to the principal. Her purple lips quirked in a sneer and she looked him up and down aggressively. "Fuck you." She snarled in oddly accented Hindi. Both the principal and Cameron blinked at the foreign language. Cameron wondered what language it was, but the principal seemed to know. "What did you just say?" Mr. Witherspoon barked. "Don't think you can get fresh with me just because you've spent time in India." Liliana smoothed her face into a blank mask. "I said, you are right, sir. I will behave myself from now on. I'll be just as good as my cousin Pissy." "Excuse me?" "Priscilla? Prissy? Priscilla Renine? She's my cousin." This time the girl added an "r" into Prissy, making Cameron think her earlier slip up was intentional. He almost smiled at the nickname. He had no love for Priscilla, not after the pranks she had played on him, the bullying, the teasing and tormenting. Mr. Witherspoon's brow ticked. "Yes, I know." Everyone knew who Priscilla was; she was a cheerleader and one of the most popular girls, and a darling of the adults. She was also one of the main reasons Cameron had ended up back in the regression program after his therapist had attempted to mainstream him. "Yeah. I'll be the same exemplary student she was. " The principal's lips puckered even more. "I somehow doubt that." He looked down his nose at her. Liliana grinned. "I will, you'll see!" "Humph. You may go, Miss Renine. But remember, I am watching you." "Oh, no doubt about that, sir. I don't doubt that at all." She ended with a theatrical, mocking bow then glanced up at the door again. Cameron's blush deepened when she smiled at him and winked again. He giggled then covered his mouth with his hands. Before the principal could say anything else, she dashed off down the hall. The principal called after her, voice dripping with disgust. "No running in the hall!" He shook his gray head and marched back to his office, the number one place students dreaded. Cameron had a feeling the girl would be spending a lot of time there. Cameron, what are you doing?" Mrs. Vesper, who was younger than Ms. Sweeney and was her assistant, came over after helping another student pick up the jumbo Crayola crayons they had dropped or thrown. Cameron never took his eyes off the hallway. He just pointed to the window. Mrs. Vesper peered out and her eyes widened in recognition as Lili trotted past. She made a loud cluck of disapproval with her tongue, then took Cameron's soft, slender hand in her own. She tugged, leading him like a nursery school worker leading a toddler. Her lips puckered just like Mr. Witherspoon's had, like she had bitten into an extremely sour lemon. "I see. Liliana's back. Well, don't you worry, sweetie. That scary girl won't bother you. I won't let her. Now, come on, it's art time. Why don't you color a pretty picture for your grandma?" At the mention of his grandmother, Cameron wrinkled his nose as he toddled along besides his teacher. His grandmother Beatrice would not care if he colored her a picture or not. Oh, sure, she would pretend to care, to fuss and coo over him if others were around. It was all show though; she did not give a damn about him. If he was alone with her, she would just smile, pat his head and mumble "how nice" before going back to checking the agenda of her social calendar or gossiping with the other ladies in her Ladies' Society. She was always on the phone, worse than a teenage girl with her need to keep up with what was going on in her social circle. Mrs. Vesper took his hand and tugged gently, leading him away from the door and view of the hall. "Aww, your binky fell out. Here you go, baby." She popped his binky back into his mouth and he accepted it automatically, sucking and moving mechanically as she guided him back to the table he shared with Leroy, who was regressed to a five year old mentality to help him recover from some emotional trauma or other, Cameron had never learned the reason for the other boy's regression. Leroy looked up as Cameron sat down and he smiled at the teacher, holding up a scribbled, childish drawing of a dump truck. "Big twuck!" He showed her and Cameron proudly. "I see. What color is it?" Mrs. Vesper cooed, patting Cameron on top of his head. "Boo!" Leroy shouted loudly, meaning to say blue. He burst into giggles and clapped his hands at her praise. "What a smart baby!" Her smile faltered as she sniffed. "I smell stinkies. Who did it?" A cloud of stench wafted up from the table. A very similar stench would've emanated from Cameron's own behind if he didn't take a special pill twice a day that nullified fecal odor. Not all the students took the pills, though. Some mommies wanted to easily tell if their baby made a stinky. Cameron's grandmother did not want anyone knowing what went on in his diapers, so she had him on the pills. Mrs. Vesper looked down at them both. Cameron let his binky fall. He wanted to tell her he'd just gotten his diaper changed- in fact, she was the one who had started changing him, but he knew she wouldn't take his word for it. She had been distracted and forgot. Instead of pointing it out , he just sat there quietly debating to try speaking up or hold his tongue. He just smiled as silly as Leroy. "Quack quack!" "Well then I'll just have to check your diapees." She lifted Cameron's hoodie up and found her way blocked by his onesie as she pulled back his pants. She squeezed the back of his puffy diaper but found no lumps. "New diapee." Cameron lisped before putting his binky back in his mouth. "Camwin poopies!" Leroy pointed and giggled, accidentally knocking his blue crayon onto the floor. Mrs. Vesper stood Cameron up, popped open his crotch to poke at his diaper from the leg holes. "Dry as a bone. You must've just been changed." Cameron rolled his eyes; he'd just told her that. 'No shit, Sherlock.' The snarky phrase rolled through his mind, tempting his lips to say the deliciously naughty words. He blushed at the impulse. Those were bad words and good little boys did not use them. Even now, the teachings from his time in the hospital stayed with him, reinforced here in the classroom. Mrs. Vesper snapped him back up and gently pushed down on his shoulder. He immediately plopped down with a loud crinkle and felt a little trickle of warmth as he peed into his diaper. "So, you must be the guilty culprit." She pulled Leroy's pants and diaper back and wrinkled her nose. "Phew. Yup, it's you. Come on, let's get you changed, little stinker." She took him by the hand and led him over to the changing tables. Cameron wondered at the rebellious streak as he stared down at the blank white paper. He was used to being babied, had been conditioned to enjoy it. It was all he knew. After his time in the hospital, he had been home schooled and outpatient therapy. At home, he was taken care of by a regression specialist nanny since his grandmother was very busy with her competitive social life. She was the only family he had; his grandfather was always overseas on business, and his father…..the man was still alive, in prison. After some homeschooling, when he had progressed to a lighter therapy schedule, his therapist suggested he go back to school. Not in the regression program, but in regular school, with the normal students. That had been a disaster. He picked up a purple crayon, doodling a spike the like ones under the girl's lip. Liliana. She felt no compunction to obey authority figures like he did. He recalled her smart mouth and blatant defiance. Attitude like that would earn him a one way trip across his teacher's lap. Parents and guardians of regression students signed consent forms for some old fashioned, across the lap discipline. It helped keep over-sized toddlers in line. He drew a pair of fat purple lips and wondered if Liliana would behave if she was spanked. Judging how Mr. Witherspoon and Mrs. Vesper reacted, it would take a lot of spanking to make the girl behave. That's one of the reasons the regression program existed- to help bad kids learn to be good, to reform them. Would she be joining him in class? She'd be regressed so he wouldn't get to talk much with her. He didn't talk with his other regressed classmates much, but he still enjoyed playing with them. How far would they regress her? Most of the students in here regressed to preschool or kindergarten level. In the hospital, he had been regressed to a newborn and had worked his way up from there. Now, mentally, he was no longer regressed. He had been in with the normal students, when the adults tried to mainstream him; it had been like throwing an injured rabbit into a den of starving tigers and resulted in him being put back into the regression room. Here, he was safe from the normal students and their bullying.
  2. New to scene , Tryin to find my mumma or daddy ! im in N.D. USA, about 45 minutes south of fargo and i really wanna find a dominant mumma whos into ABDL with a baby boy, im single no kds no exes no baggage! im 36y.o. but look mid twenties,im told. red hair green eyes, women typicaly tell me my best features are my chest, and piercing green eyes. im a bigger boy , muscular and curvy 6'3'' *240-250******lbs. im bi or pansexual, but if i had a woman who was into anal for me id NEVER cheat. im a non smoker (i vape) and drug free for the most part, except for marijuana and club drugs on certain special occasions like concerts and venues, the pot helps with night terrors which is one of the 2 reasons i wet, the other is my medication i take for schizophrenia, it knocks me the F out. i was wearing depends since i only wet at night, but they wouldnt hold and would leak on my mem. foam mattress, after getting sick of washing bedding i started shopping for other brands and came accross an abdl website where women were changing thier boyfriends and teasing them about it, i thought it was hillarious, had to be embarasing, and hott for some strange reason too! i wanted a mumm all of a sudden, i havnt had a girlfriend pretty much ever because my mother was a feminist and beat it into me that women are to be respected. i think its both cute and sad what these girls into ABDL go through, cute cause thier taking care of thier baby littles, with no judgement, and also because they go into mamma bear mode , and start nesting for thier littles,some even set up whole nurserys in thier house, WTF?! how cool !!! where do i find one of these women? any woman that is willing to change me at age 36 is obviously judgement free, as well as nurturing (hello wifey, need those feet rubbed, and toes sucked? just give your baby the command and watch him execute or risk punishment) but it was also sad to later learn alot of these women were infertile and couldnt have childeren, this was so sad to me but also cool to see these mommies resilience ! but i only wear at night and never have messys (not my future wifes job but im honered youd deal with that shit, literaly!) what was even cooler was to learn alot of these women also sold abdl stuff on the side of thier regular work as a really good hustle! BOSS bitches ahead! lol. since im disabled i can pay my own bills but nobody elses, and when everythings said and done i only have like 100$ left for fun and that usualy goes towards pot. but the good news is i dont have to work, so i could help a mumma sell her stock while shes at work, and where do i sign to become the house slave? that means on days she has off i have all day to rub her back and suck her toes amongst other tasks and punishments she has for me... HOTT!!! i enjoy watching my partner getting off and this is crucial so that i do as well, im into cunninlingus, curious about getting pegged, and my biggest fetish is getting my ass rimmed when im clean and fresh out the shower, i trim myself with a manscape and shave my testes bald as well as my butt its a hygeine thing for me as i never wanna stink for anyone. im usualy clean shaven and dont grow much hair on my butt back or chest, any hair i do have is usualy blonde/strawberry blonde, and just not that visible. as long as we have a 50/50 understanding of dominance in public, butt when we get home im more than happy for you to be the boss 90% of the time cause i love a partner that leads with intimacy so i know what to do next... the other 10% is every now and then when i need to release some T and i go primal on your ass (not literaly, unless you want that ,and still prob no.i like to recieve anal not give) like lift you up and fuck you all around the house while i beat your walls up, eat you out, lick you from tits to taint, untill you squirm, then fuck you some more till you cum puddles for us. hott! also if were doing the ABDL roleplay i would like my mumm to be at least 5 if not 10 years older than me. and as far as the diapers go i love a fresh one put on then fill it with just enough warm water to get it to swell to capacity, then pick a fight with mumm untill she pushes me over with two fingers cause i could barely waddle in it and (to think of walking or running would be impossible,)then she laughs when i fall on my ass with an audible SQUISH! then i fake cry, turn into a brat just for fun to frustrate mumm and earn spankings and discipline from her, (for laughing at you you gave me six weeks in diapers, doubled up sometimes if necessary due to my behavior , and no boy cummies for 3 days, i still however must tend to mumms pussy if she requests it, if she asks twice, im in trouble probobly time out, if she has to ask a third time i might as well waddle away from home since shell probably give me 6 months in diapers, doubled up, and time out is now done in an adult crib (no escape) or restraints to the bed somehow, FUCK, looks like i might be using them during the day for #1 at least if not messys, and mom will be pissed if im covered in pooh!, this (defication) just bought me another 6 months in diapers with no pull-ups for public but instead of my daily jockstraps under my clothes at the mall im now wearing (mumms demands) you guessed it, a bulky loud crinkly diaper, one things for certain i might as well stick my ass with mumm and the diaper BS since talking to other females at the mall would be to embarrasing as they stare at my bulging slightly wet pants ! what makes it even worse is when were in public at JC pennys and mumm requests a diaper check...am i wet ? or is it worse, if im wet its spankings on my bum when she changes me, if its worse then my punishment is once again, another 6 weeks in bulky hot diapers. well att this point one things for certain mumm your baby boi aint goin knowhere without you and at this point his feeble male brain figures out that mumm is the best thing for me , which is what she had been telling me since day one when she first introduced me too you guessed it her DIAPERS ! lol life can be so hard for a little when they dont listen to mumma butt eventualy they learn or at least theyre (mine) cherry red ass does, which is basicaly what mumm told me on day one! i look at mumm with tears in my eyes as i realize im not going anywhere shes in complete control of my life! are you about to cry she asks ,... no i reply , she says if i dont tell her the truth its another 6 weeks in you guessed it DIAPERS! yes mumm i concede, im just so happy to be with you ! you take such good care of your baby boys needs and wants your the best mumm ever! maybe if we cut your bottles off at 8pm ill give you one night of sleeping in a cool pull up instead of doubling your cute butt up in 2 bulky diapers to sleep in when you go to bed at 11 . that is of course if you do what i ask of you the first time i ask it when we get home. understand? yes maam i say, she corrects me maam? am i your mistress or am i your mumm? your my mumm mumm. thats what i thought , because you called me maam no movies or legos when we get home, i need you to wash my back, and rub mumms feet cause mumm has cramps, something youll never know about ... yes mumm. (the conversation continues as mumma does a quick diaper check in the mall entrance as she grabs my ass, three teenage girls behind us point and snicker, i turn beat red in the face as mumma notices and chuckles...) ahh the life of a little aint easy butt niether is toilet training a 36 y.o. man who already knows how to use the bathroom in the first place. if this obsurdity sounds fun to you as a female , then your probobly very close to what im looking for, but you must relize, #1. money is tighter than my butt so dont ask for any even gas, and no i aint selling drugs again. #2 i aint paying for sex, i never have and never will, besides its against my christian religion, (im very old fashioned) and #3 i will not register in a database of ABDLs for you , im probabaly in enough databases as it is from being a federal felon (non-violent/sexual) it was a weopons charge. #4 if your selling designer diapers that go for as much as 25$ a piece, thats what my ass better be in and that pamper should be suede with gold leaf on the fucking carebares faces and butts, and espescially if im helping you distribute, you need to be cash apping me 50$ every so often cause im the one whos schizo remember? not the other way around. if you understand these things and you still wanna be intimate with my pasty ass , now i must ask you are you of age? like not just 18, but within 10 years of mine? and if your doing all this stuff please explain why? before i wonder if your bi-polar yourself...(which is also fine) just be honest and im sure we can vibe like a tickle stick at 54000 RPM. which if you use on me in my diaper, ill use on your vagina and panties if you like. see its all about compromises and settlements, if you do all of this and your still interested in me and you can deal withthe fact i like stuff in my butt sometimes (i have a prostate,women dont ask ******* it) then i will treat you like a true queen and if you can just make me your prince , not a lazy king, ill eventually treat you like the goddess you always have been... anything else anything at all , just ask me, i promise im an open book, i promise i wont waste your time, and i promise im worth it... i just need a woman to motivate me and occasionaly beat the brat outa my ass. i cant think about anything else so for now im signing off. sincerly queens, your loyal boy slave for life, lil boi blue
  3. New to scene , Tryin to find my mumma or daddy ! im in N.D. USA, about 45 minutes south of fargo and i really wanna find a dominant mumma whos into ABDL with a baby boy, im single no kds no exes no baggage! im 36y.o. but look mid twenties,im told. red hair green eyes, women typicaly tell me my best features are my chest, and piercing green eyes. im a bigger boy , muscular and curvy 6'3'' *240-250******lbs. im bi or pansexual, but if i had a woman who was into anal for me id NEVER cheat. im a non smoker (i vape) and drug free for the most part, except for marijuana and club drugs on certain special occasions like concerts and venues, the pot helps with night terrors which is one of the 2 reasons i wet, the other is my medication i take for schizophrenia, it knocks me the F out. i was wearing depends since i only wet at night, but they wouldnt hold and would leak on my mem. foam mattress, after getting sick of washing bedding i started shopping for other brands and came accross an abdl website where women were changing thier boyfriends and teasing them about it, i thought it was hillarious, had to be embarasing, and hott for some strange reason too! i wanted a mumm all of a sudden, i havnt had a girlfriend pretty much ever because my mother was a feminist and beat it into me that women are to be respected. i think its both cute and sad what these girls into ABDL go through, cute cause thier taking care of thier baby littles, with no judgement, and also because they go into mamma bear mode , and start nesting for thier littles,some even set up whole nurserys in thier house, WTF?! how cool !!! where do i find one of these women? any woman that is willing to change me at age 36 is obviously judgement free, as well as nurturing (hello wifey, need those feet rubbed, and toes sucked? just give your baby the command and watch him execute or risk punishment) but it was also sad to later learn alot of these women were infertile and couldnt have childeren, this was so sad to me but also cool to see these mommies resilience ! but i only wear at night and never have messys (not my future wifes job but im honered youd deal with that shit, literaly!) what was even cooler was to learn alot of these women also sold abdl stuff on the side of thier regular work as a really good hustle! BOSS bitches ahead! lol. since im disabled i can pay my own bills but nobody elses, and when everythings said and done i only have like 100$ left for fun and that usualy goes towards pot. but the good news is i dont have to work, so i could help a mumma sell her stock while shes at work, and where do i sign to become the house slave? that means on days she has off i have all day to rub her back and suck her toes amongst other tasks and punishments she has for me... HOTT!!! i enjoy watching my partner getting off and this is crucial so that i do as well, im into cunninlingus, curious about getting pegged, and my biggest fetish is getting my ass rimmed when im clean and fresh out the shower, i trim myself with a manscape and shave my testes bald as well as my butt its a hygeine thing for me as i never wanna stink for anyone. im usualy clean shaven and dont grow much hair on my butt back or chest, any hair i do have is usualy blonde/strawberry blonde, and just not that visible. as long as we have a 50/50 understanding of dominance in public, butt when we get home im more than happy for you to be the boss 90% of the time cause i love a partner that leads with intimacy so i know what to do next... the other 10% is every now and then when i need to release some T and i go primal on your ass (not literaly, unless you want that ,and still prob no.i like to recieve anal not give) like lift you up and fuck you all around the house while i beat your walls up, eat you out, lick you from tits to taint, untill you squirm, then fuck you some more till you cum puddles for us. hott! also if were doing the ABDL roleplay i would like my mumm to be at least 5 if not 10 years older than me. and as far as the diapers go i love a fresh one put on then fill it with just enough warm water to get it to swell to capacity, then pick a fight with mumm untill she pushes me over with two fingers cause i could barely waddle in it and (to think of walking or running would be impossible,)then she laughs when i fall on my ass with an audible SQUISH! then i fake cry, turn into a brat just for fun to frustrate mumm and earn spankings and discipline from her, (for laughing at you you gave me six weeks in diapers, doubled up sometimes if necessary due to my behavior , and no boy cummies for 3 days, i still however must tend to mumms pussy if she requests it, if she asks twice, im in trouble probobly time out, if she has to ask a third time i might as well waddle away from home since shell probably give me 6 months in diapers, doubled up, and time out is now done in an adult crib (no escape) or restraints to the bed somehow, FUCK, looks like i might be using them during the day for #1 at least if not messys, and mom will be pissed if im covered in pooh!, this (defication) just bought me another 6 months in diapers with no pull-ups for public but instead of my daily jockstraps under my clothes at the mall im now wearing (mumms demands) you guessed it, a bulky loud crinkly diaper, one things for certain i might as well stick my ass with mumm and the diaper BS since talking to other females at the mall would be to embarrasing as they stare at my bulging slightly wet pants ! what makes it even worse is when were in public at JC pennys and mumm requests a diaper check...am i wet ? or is it worse, if im wet its spankings on my bum when she changes me, if its worse then my punishment is once again, another 6 weeks in bulky hot diapers. well att this point one things for certain mumm your baby boi aint goin knowhere without you and at this point his feeble male brain figures out that mumm is the best thing for me , which is what she had been telling me since day one when she first introduced me too you guessed it her DIAPERS ! lol life can be so hard for a little when they dont listen to mumma butt eventualy they learn or at least theyre (mine) cherry red ass does, which is basicaly what mumm told me on day one! i look at mumm with tears in my eyes as i realize im not going anywhere shes in complete control of my life! are you about to cry she asks ,... no i reply , she says if i dont tell her the truth its another 6 weeks in you guessed it DIAPERS! yes mumm i concede, im just so happy to be with you ! you take such good care of your baby boys needs and wants your the best mumm ever! maybe if we cut your bottles off at 8pm ill give you one night of sleeping in a cool pull up instead of doubling your cute butt up in 2 bulky diapers to sleep in when you go to bed at 11 . that is of course if you do what i ask of you the first time i ask it when we get home. understand? yes maam i say, she corrects me maam? am i your mistress or am i your mumm? your my mumm mumm. thats what i thought , because you called me maam no movies or legos when we get home, i need you to wash my back, and rub mumms feet cause mumm has cramps, something youll never know about ... yes mumm. (the conversation continues as mumma does a quick diaper check in the mall entrance as she grabs my ass, three teenage girls behind us point and snicker, i turn beat red in the face as mumma notices and chuckles...) ahh the life of a little aint easy butt niether is toilet training a 36 y.o. man who already knows how to use the bathroom in the first place. if this obsurdity sounds fun to you as a female , then your probobly very close to what im looking for, but you must relize, #1. money is tighter than my butt so dont ask for any even gas, and no i aint selling drugs again. #2 i aint paying for sex, i never have and never will, besides its against my christian religion, (im very old fashioned) and #3 i will not register in a database of ABDLs for you , im probabaly in enough databases as it is from being a federal felon (non-violent/sexual) it was a weopons charge. #4 if your selling designer diapers that go for as much as 25$ a piece, thats what my ass better be in and that pamper should be suede with gold leaf on the fucking carebares faces and butts, and espescially if im helping you distribute, you need to be cash apping me 50$ every so often cause im the one whos schizo remember? not the other way around. if you understand these things and you still wanna be intimate with my pasty ass , now i must ask you are you of age? like not just 18, but within 10 years of mine? and if your doing all this stuff please explain why? before i wonder if your bi-polar yourself...(which is also fine) just be honest and im sure we can vibe like a tickle stick at 54000 RPM. which if you use on me in my diaper, ill use on your vagina and panties if you like. see its all about compromises and settlements, if you do all of this and your still interested in me and you can deal withthe fact i like stuff in my butt sometimes (i have a prostate,women dont ask ******* it) then i will treat you like a true queen and if you can just make me your prince , not a lazy king, ill eventually treat you like the goddess you always have been... anything else anything at all , just ask me, i promise im an open book, i promise i wont waste your time, and i promise im worth it... i just need a woman to motivate me and occasionaly beat the brat outa my ass. i cant think about anything else so for now im signing off. sincerly queens, your loyal boy slave for life, lil boi blue
  4. Alright, another story in the diaper dimension. One of the main goals is for my writing to be 'fun', and when I quickly wrote a few chapters of Recessive last week and this week, I was very happy with the results. Most of my stories involve "borrowing" ideas from other authors, this one is no different. Since this one is pretty blatant, I want to give credit where it’s due. The concept of Maturosis and a recessive Betweener gene belongs to Personalias, which I hope he doesn't mind me using for this story. I also give a little nod to his story "Unfair". This was written in a hurry, so there might be some mistakes in here somewhere. I hope to get a chapter out per week, but we'll see how that turns out. As always, thanks for reading. *All characters are over 18* *Now with Maturosis spelled correctly* ------------------------ Recessive 1 “Come on, mom! I do not have Maturosis.” As a Tweener, Kaleb was fighting for his life, this was exactly the kind of thing that could put him in diapers. He hated saying what he shouldn’t even have to say; but this wasn’t the first time he had to stand up for his adulthood, and hopefully, it wouldn’t be the last. A letter from the school counselor started this latest brouhaha. In a few typed paragraphs, the Amazon counselor claimed that his behavior wasn’t up to snuff. It mentioned that Kaleb had been forgetful with his assignments, that he was apathetic, appeared bored, slept in class, and it brought notice to the nightmare that was his most recent report card. The school wanted to see some ‘changes’. In fact, the head counselor herself thought that he needed some cognitive behavioral testing; which would never happen to his Amazon stepsister. Now, Kaleb was doing battle against his family in the living room. The small space between the pair of couches, flat screen TV, and his father's oversized fluffy comfy chair became 'No man's land'. Kaleb sat in the Big recliner, dwarfed by the navy blue padding, doing his best to defend his honor against his stepmother and stepsister. Debbie was on her feet, the letter from the school still in her Amazon hands, and there was a stern tightness in her voice. “Your father works seven days a week to put food on the table, and you can’t even be asked to pay attention in class. What’s your problem, Kaleb?” “Maybe he has Maturosis?” added his sweet stepsister. Layla sat on the couch opposite Kaleb and his chair, and she had her Little Parenting class textbook opened and cradled in her loving Amazon arms. This Maturosis train of thought was all her fault, and she knew it and loved it. “I said that I do not have Maturosis!” Kaleb repeated himself, louder and slower this time. “How would you know?” Layla said to him and her mother. “Are you taking a Little Parenting class like I am? Oh, I forgot, it’s a class only for Amazons, which means you're too little to attend. So sowwie, Kay-Kay.” How he hated that pet name his stepsister gave him - ‘Kay-Kay’. “It’s not Kaleb’s fault,” added his stepmom with just a smidge of derision. “It’s in his genes, you can’t fault him for who he is - that’s Unfair.” Yes. His genes. From the day he was born, it was always about his inferior genetic make up. It turns out that his father’s family had a recessive ‘Betweener’ gene that had revealed itself with his birth. Thus, Kaleb was shorter, dumber, and more childish compared to everyone else in life. His mere existence seemed to have shamed his family, and Kaleb believed it was why his mom and dad split up in the first place. His real Amazon mom wanted to baby him, and his Big dad pretended he didn’t exist, working long hours and always out of town on business. Then his dad got remarried to Debbie, and that’s when these kinds of battles began. Kaleb knew these conflicts by heart, always having to prove that he was just as good as his Amazon counterparts. He had expected, and experienced, this kind of talk from other Amazons, but to have it in his house was something else entirely. Still, it shouldn’t have surprised him that it had come down to this; his stepsister being who she was, the same with his stepmom - but it was Layla who was spearheading this latest attack. There was trouble between him and his stepsister from the get-go: Layla being an almost perfect Amazon, Kaleb being a shorter than average Betweener, and both seniors in high school but on opposite ends of the popularity spectrum and the honor roll. It didn’t help matters that Layla was hyper intelligent and had a carnivorous brain that never slept and always schemed. His stepsister was sleek and stacked, blonde and pretty, and the head cheerleader of the varsity squad. Meanwhile, Kaleb made so-so grades, had dark shaggy hair, wore too many black t-shirts, played video games and kept to himself, which was now suddenly a crime according to Layla’s textbook. “My book says that sufferers of Maturosis exhibit the following behaviors: antisocial tendencies such as keeping to themselves, too much talking, not enough talking, too much reading, a disinterest in books, television watching, unable to finish a show… the same with being single, unemployed and without any high school diploma.” “Put a big check next to that one.” Debbie, his stepmom, loomed over his step-sis like a brooding gargoyle wearing mascara. “He hides in that room playing those childish games - almost like a Little.” “Yeah,” echoed Layla, “almost like a Little.” “Come on, Debbie!” Kaleb cringed from the insinuation. “Kaleb, for the last time, call me ‘mom’,” his stepmom warned him with a snap and a raised finger. “I’ve earned the right after dealing with you all summer, just wait until your father hears of this letter.” After putting him in his place, Debbie leaned over the couch to get a better look at the book. Then she casted a second sharp glance at Kaleb as if he was interrupting something important - and not fighting for his life. His stepmother had a pretty face for an overbearing Amazon; that is, when she wasn’t scowling at or threatening him. Debbie had a youthful appearance, a brightness in her complexion, and she kept in good shape, so he couldn't blame his dad for marrying her. It was just that his blonde, decently attractive stepmother had a singular goal in mind when it came to Kaleb; one that more aligned with that of his real mom. “Disrespect towards authority is another sign of Maturosis,” continued Layla. “It says here that the inability to appropriately recognize mother figures and properly interact with older Amazons reveals an innate desire for punishment. Very Maturosis, indeed.” A wild feeling soaked the room, a moist sponge full of potential energy, just waiting to be squeezed. Layla was getting giddy from this excitement, happily kicking her feet in the air. Her cheerful face matched her red and white cheerleading uniform fresh from the pep rally after school. One of her life goals was getting Kaleb put in diapers, which wasn’t some mind reading thing or a product of more insinuation, she had told him to his face… many times. “I do respect you Deb.. I mean, mom…” Kaleb pleaded his case to his oversized audience with fists clenched. “It’s just that this textbook is just painting Tweeners with a broad brush, it doesn’t mean that I’m sick with anything, you’ve got to believe me.” “We do believe you,” said Debbie, “it’s the only reason you’re not in diapers, yet.” “Not in diapers, yet?” questioned Kaleb, his face felt tight and cheek muscles twitched under his eyes. “What have I done to be put in diapers? Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Kaleb felt like he got his point across, but as soon as he settled himself back into the oversized chair, Layla flipped back a few pages in that damn book of hers. Then she pointed to a page that was probably dutifully highlighted from beginning to end. “Actually, we read about this issue a few chapters ago. Littles are experts at hiding their potty accidents, they could be having accidents daily without being caught, and no one would be the wiser. It’s more common than we think.” Debbie smiled and patted her daughter on the shoulder. “I love this new school of yours,” said his stepmom. “I’d have to admit that I was against sending you to a mixed school, but I’ll say that I stand corrected.” The two women were loving this special moment they shared. Layla beamed up at her mother, and her mom smiled down fondly — all Amazon through and through. They both looked the same and talked the same, with Layla being a younger, more ‘cheerleading’ kind of clone. As if this Amazonian apple didn’t fall far from the tree, if it even fell at all. “Thanks mom! I had my doubts as well, but they’re letting us work with the Littles at the school. And guess what! I changed my first Little diaper today!” “Oh! Congratulations Layla!” Debbie was hopping in place as she hugged her daughter. “You’re going to have to tell me everything? What was it like?” “What was it like?” Layla giggled, this day was going as perfectly for her as if she dreamed it. “It was stinky, that’s what it was like.” Stepmom crossed her arms and pushed her lips together like she was about to kiss a frog. “Uh-oh. Did some little Little think themselves too big for protection?” “Yeah…” Layla nodded excitedly, “and she had the audacity to want to be a cheerleader as well. I mean, it’s not safe. That’s what we all tried to tell her, she was too Little to be one of us.” “You’re right,” said Debbie. “It isn’t safe to have a Little wandering around a Big school with no one to help her. I’m so proud of you for protecting that Little, and she proved herself to be a pants-pooper as well. You probably caught her before things got out of control, she’s going to be thankful when she comes to terms with her condition.” “I doubt that…” mumbled Kaleb. His stepmom spun to face him. “What did you say?” As hard as this all was, Kaleb tried to explain himself to an insane giantess without triggering her overbearing, often malicious, mothering instinct. “You’ve ruined her life, now she’s in diapers, and she’s stuck in them!” “We didn’t ruin anything,” countered Layla, who said every word to her mother’s approval. “The cheerleaders helped her deal with her condition. So what are we supposed to do with a Little with a potty problem? Just let Callie go messy in her panties?” “No! Nope! No way I believe that!” decried Kaleb. “This Callie girl probably didn’t have potty problems until the cheerleaders made her poop herself.” Layla disagreed with a sharp shake of her head, sending her tight ponytail swaying from side to side. His stepsister flipped forward a couple of pages, grabbed her mom's attention, and pointed at a passage in the book without saying a word. After following her daughter’s finger, Debbie clutched the gaudy pearls around her neck and slowly nodded. Oh, man. This wasn’t good at all. Kaleb mockingly wiggled his head like his stepsister. “What does it say in your stupid book?” “It says that those suffering from Maturosis have an ‘affinity’ towards other victims. Top doctors say that this over-indulgent empathy is yet another symptom. If a Little, or Betweener, exhibits anger, frustration, or undue sympathy towards a Little that clearly needs diapers, it could mean that those big emotions are really meaning something else.” “Like what?” he asked without thinking first. “If a Little… or in this case - a Betweener - displays these kinds of emotions it may be masking…” Layla held up for a moment, to let the tension build, biting her pink lips and looking between her mom and her book. “I may be masking what?” questioned Kaleb. “Jealousy.” Kaleb squinted at his step sister in disbelief, as if she said the stupidest thing he’d ever heard, and it was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard - but it was also one of the most dangerous. “Me? Wanted to be treated like a baby? That’s absurd… it’s ridiculous… there’s no proof, only silly um… insinuation! Give me a fair shake to prove it to you. I deserve the benefit of the doubt.” “You’re absolutely right, Kay-Kay.” “I am?” Kaleb stared blankly at his Big stepsister. “You do deserve the benefit of the doubt,” continued Layla. “Our teacher says that just because a non-Amazon exhibits one or all behaviors, doesn’t mean they have Maturosis. This isn’t some kind of catch all condition. Sometimes, but not often, there are a few misdiagnoses that go undiscovered.” Kaleb glared down at his sneakers, letting his heart sink to new depths. Imagine being misdiagnosed with something as sinister as Maturosis. That would be like serving a life sentence in a plastic prison, when you were innocent every single day. “That’s why they made the Cushioning test,” Layla explained to the room. “It’s a psychological remedy that can bring out the worst symptoms of Maturosis without the headache of constant surveillance.” “I’ve never heard of this Cushioning test,” Debbie grouched as she folded her arms. “It must be something new, they make everything so difficult these days. Back in my day, if we saw a baby we put a diaper on her, it was that simple. And now we have tests.” “Oh, mom. Don’t be so old fashioned. We live in an age of science and kindness, not like how it used to be, that was just being cruel to Littles. Now we help them, not hurt or condemn them.” “I guess you’re right,” sighed Debbie. "What does it say about bad grades, or any other signs in the behavior of a Betweener?" They’re sick, established Kaleb, in his head of course. They were absolutely bonkers, completely bat-crap crazy, and he needed to get out of that room. He rose from the chair to go back to his bedroom, if he was careful, they wouldn’t say anything. “Where are you going, Kay-Kay?” Layla flashed her violent blue eyes at him. “We’re not done yet.” “Oh, I thought you guys were finished,” he stuttered and took a step back. “Listen, I’ve got some homework to do, so… if you don’t mind…” Layla smiled. “I’ve got some homework, too.” “And…?” Kaleb noticed that she was staring at him hungrily. “And I need the help of my little bro!” Layla clapped her hands together enthusiastically, which was alarming to say the least; but Kaleb said nothing, dead behind the eyes, keenly noticing his smiling stepmom and aware of his squealing stepsister. There was no getting out of this, he had better chances of flapping his arms and flying out the window. "Does this homework have anything to do with those bags you brought home?" asked Debbie, with a gleam in the eye. “Maybe.." offered Layla. "What do you say, Kay-Kay? Wanna be my helper?” “Help you do what?” Kaleb shrugged his shoulders. “I’m going to need a few more details before I say anything.” “Well, today we got a special assignment from Little Parenting class. We’ve got to perform a practice Cushioning test over the weekend. Most of my friends are planning to work with Littles, they were going as a group to a daycare, but I thought it would be easier if Kaleb helped me. Mom, I’m so swamped at school, especially with the big dance coming up. I figured if the school wants him to do some 'testing', and I need to perform some 'testing', I can be the one to help Kaleb." "That's so nice of you to think of helping your stepbrother. You are growing into a fine young lady - and you are very busy.” His stepmom then turned his way. “You should help out your sister, Kaleb. It may ‘help’ you in the long run." "Help me do what?" he asked his stepmom. Debbie reviewed the letter a third and a fourth time before explaining. "The only places that offer these kinds of cognitive tests are at Little Procurement Centers, and they're not going to give you a fair shake if you fail them. Trust your stepmom on this one." He trusted her on this one, 100%. That still didn't mean that he had to do whatever Layla wanted, and his stepsister never did anything that was good for him without it later turning bad for him. At least she was predictable in that manner. “Wait a sec.." Kaleb turned to the two women. "You’re actually going to make me do this baby test?” “The school says that you need it,” answered Debbie with a shrug. “Why are you believing the stupid school counselor instead of me?” Kaleb continued to fight for his rights. “You know how stupid that is? This is all so… so… stupid!” Layla smirked. “Yeah, it is stupid isn’t it.” Kaleb was surprised to find that his stepsister agreed with him a second time, twice in one day like a broken clock. “Um.. it’s just that I’m not so sure I want to do that ‘Cushering’ test. Those things are designed to make Littles fail and turn them into babies. No way I’m doing that, I’m not THAT stupid.” “You’re just afraid that you won’t pass it,” said Layla matter of factly. “No, I’m not afraid of the test,” insisted Kaleb. “I just told you that the test is rigged against Littles…” “But you’re not a Little,” replied Layla. “It won’t be rigged against you. It’s just homework, Kay-Kay.” The way she was so right all the time was infuriating. He could feel the change in the room as his internal workings were beginning to budge, as he tried plant his feet into the carpet before he lost more ground. “It’s still a big ‘No!’ for me. I gain nothing from being your Guinea pig, not an ‘oinking’ thing.” “Guinea pigs don’t ‘oink’!” Layla groaned to her mother. “My stepbrother is a complete moron.” His stepmom butted in, "I don't think you have much of a choice, Kaleb." "I do have a choice, I'm not going to do any of these tests, no matter how many letters the school sends. And another thing, you can kiss my sweet not-diapered butt." Kaleb turned to show his jean clad bottom to the two Amazon women, adding insult to insult, and driving his point home. They were not making him do any kind of test. But that's where he was wrong. Before Kaleb knew what was happening, Debbie jumped into the fray, literally. For a woman in her middle age, she certainly closed the gap between easy chair and couch in a hurry. His stepmom pulled him to his feet by the forearm, in a tight grip he’d never break. Still, he tried. After a couple of quick escape attempts, Kaleb accepted his fate, letting his arm hang loosely from his stepmom’s clenched fist, while glaring as hard as he could at the much larger woman. When he had stopped squirming, Debbie pulled him closer to her in a menacing way, she was a giant spider and he was in her web. The size differential had to be driven home, and she spiked it deep. His stepmom addressed Layla with a biting, callous tone. “What does it say in your book about not helping their sisters?” “Nothing good,” replied Layla, as she tried to stifle another smile. “That’s what I thought,” Debbie said to Layla. “Now, as for you,” his stepmom turned her attention to him. “You need a nice slice of humble pie, so I’m going to check your pants. Maybe if you’re good, I’ll let you have another chance at making the right choice, or there could be a spanking in order. Then I'll take you to the Little Center, and you can do all of your testing with a red bottom." Kaleb gulped. That spike was driven straight into his heart. “Turn around and face your sister, Kaleb.” He didn’t have to be told twice, shuffling his feet towards Layla. His stepmom kept a firm hand at his back as he turned away from her, and her hold on his arm slackened to give him another chance to do it right. Like the constant battles for adulthood, this was not his first pants check; not from Debbie, not from others, and hopefully, it wouldn’t be his last. However, he wasn’t too concerned. Kaleb kept a clean ship, with a well-squabbed poop deck. On the couch, Layla coyly played with a pen held between her lips. The stupid textbook was still opened on her lap, but her piercing eyes were all on Kaleb and his ‘pants check’. This day was going as swimmingly as possible for Layla, and she wasn't afraid to show her stepbrother how much she enjoyed his petulant child treatment. Debbie reached around the front of his pants to undo the button of his jeans, then with the other hand she yanked them down mid thigh. Kaleb fought the urge to fall to the carpet as his pants fell, but his anxiety-locked knees held him upright. Behind him, his stepmom adjusted the waistband of his gray boxer briefs, before sliding a pair of crooked fingers into the fabric and pulling them back to take a peek at his cheeks. "All clean," Debbie announced to the surprise of no one. The whole song and dance was less about potty training and more about humility. His winning strategy was to try to maintain some bit of dignity on the other side. That was his goal, at least. Kaleb would have to exude some level of over-confidence if he planned on playing this off as just another battle; there was a war to win. "Duh! I told you that I don't have Maturosis. You guys are pretty off the mark, don’t you think? Same with the school and their letter, they're wrong and you both know it.” Kaleb hastily pulled his pants to his hips, and redid the button, and things were almost back to normal. "If we're wrong, then you should do the test," observed Layla. "I still don't know why you won't help me with my homework." "Fine. Fine. I'll do that test, but you two will have to give up something in return." "Oh!” Debbie exclaimed. “I love it when they try to make deals.” "Mom, let's hear him out." Layla slid her book aside before crossing her legs. Boy, her skirt was short. Kaleb could almost see a hint of red bloomers in the provided shadows. "I need him to willing and able to help me, I can't just force him over my knee to make him behave. This is science, remember? There's no room for error." "Alright, then." Debbie let him go, and Kaleb rubbed at the spot where her claws dug into him. "What do you want from us?" Kaleb held his breath before speaking. He made sure that his arm still worked; it did, same with his rapidly beating heart and his burgeoning sense of finality. If there was going to be a showdown, and he would be the one to set the terms. This was the best way to silence his family and take care of the funny business from that Amazon school counselor. "If I pass the test, then you two have to leave me alone. No more bullying. No more pants checking. No more Kay-Kay. No more… whatever else you guys do, like saying that I'd look cute dressed like a Little." Both women guffawed with a capital 'G'. "Alright, alright." Layla put aside her smile to give him the room. "Is that all? What if you 'fail'? It is a possibility." "If he fails, he gets treated like a Little with Maturosis," interrupted Debbie, altogether quiet and harsh. "That is what the test is all about, isn’t it? I’ve had my own questions about his adulthood that I wouldn’t mind having answered.” His stepmom was right about the test, wrong about his adulthood. The Cushioning test was for Littles who needed diapers. So what? Kaleb was a Betweener who didn't need diapers. Even if he did shoddily on Layla's Cushioning test, there was still a good chance that he'd pass the stupid thing, and then he'd be left alone for the rest of his days. No more bothering him about video games, or girlfriends, or his height, or anything and everything that made his life a constant battle. If this was going to end one way or another, it might as well be here and now, and at his own decision making. Kaleb stared down the two women. "Deal." The two Amazons could barely let the ink dry before sealing him to his fate, as Layla spoke for the both of them. "Deal... Now let's get started."
  5. More Littles with Sugar than Salt How do you get what you can’t have but really want? There are better ways than forcing someone to your will. That always ends poorly, instead use a little sugar and you may get a lot farther than you’d think. This story is how I ended up getting myself into a “dreaded” adoption but it wasn’t so bad. Actually, it’s kind of nice… I was walking home as I usually did, I could have taken an auto car or even the rotor platforms, flat things that moved you where you wanted to go, no roof but got there fast. not much going on for me, but I liked it that way. Work had been a little rough, my amazon boss had been riding my a$$ about being able to keep up with the giants and pull my own weight. That was a funny thought, I don't weigh a tenth of what those hippos weighed so shouldn’t my work be “lighter” too? God! they were annoying creatures, every female treating me like I'm 3 wiping my face and making sure I can get to the "potty" on time. Every male calling me "sport" or "buddy." Really, such a superiority complex. Anyway, here I am going home on my usual route stretching my legs and enjoying a nice afternoon, the setting sun gave a good vibe of a peaceful night. Probably enjoy a good beer on the back porch when I got done with dinner. Not like I had anyone to answer to tonight. Single life was something of a blessing and a curse. While no one was there for you, you also didn't have to justify spending that 100 dollars for that thing you wanted. My walk home usually brought me close to a few of the "fee fi fo fums" in the neighborhood but they tended to be well behaved. A couple might try to drug me just so they could diaper me on the sidewalk, since they were not allowed to force adoption anymore. That was the worst case scenario. You could usually tell those ones right away, for instance, take the behemoth Bella Carter. Every week it was a new baked thing or the new fried that, and she loved giving them to me. I had tried a few here and there, in private of course, to see what would happen. It only reinforced the rule you never take things from a giant. I had a friend that once took a pillow once, seems innocent right? Well, technology being what it is and the giants being what they are, it ended up being an auto diaper and boy was it thorough. When he layed on it it activated, a small puff of knockout gas, followed by a fast numbing agent, it put itself on him and performed incontinence surgery on him right there. Poor guy ended up giving up, couldn't afford to fix it, the price of keeping up with his new needs was too high, he just walked down the street and told the monster he would do what she wanted. Last I saw he was blissfully unaware of his current state of infantilism. Buuuh, never take things from an Amazon. On this particular night, since it was so nice out, a lot of Amazon's were out and about or sitting on a porch. Everyone of them offering a small encouragement to get home before dark, or "hope your well sweetie" or "you're such a big boy walking home alone." Arriving at my street Bella was out walking her dog. Of course she was carrying some cookies, upon seeing me she immediately ran over to me exclaiming "oh, cutie pie! I made you a little something." I rolled my eyes and turned to face the thundering elephant bounding towards me on tree pole legs. "I know you're gonna love these," she said with a rather southern twang. It would be almost charming, if she wasn't trying to poison my digestive tract for the next week. "OH, miss Carter I didn't see you there, how are you tonight?" I replied, "it's a wonderful evening and I'm ready to get home from work and relax a little over the weekend. Gotta get to it." Trying to sound polite and not give her a reason to invoke the "Impromptu Needed Attitude Adjustment law. She didn't even act like she heard me, "will you give them a try? I made them this afternoon." Looking at her offering, it had the same logo that the "Love your Little" pharmacy used. Cooked it? Yeah, I had heard her cooking would probably have killed me, not just left me without bowel control for a week. "Oh wow, I'll have to give them a try on the way, I'm super tired after a long week, miss Carter, I'll just scoot along and give one a go on the way, deal?" Not one to give up easily, she replies "oh it'll give you a pep in your step." I'm sure it would, so much so I'd be running home. Starting to walk I quipped "Yeah but I don't want to ruin my dinner, you know how we littles are. I promise next time I see you i'll let you know what I think, deal?" "Oh all right, make sure you eat your vegetables tonight to. Be a good boy and I'll see you next time." Walking on until I was certain she couldn't see me, I dumped them into a trashcan, keeping the bag so I could return it to her as evidence i had eaten them, it was fun this way. She always had such a confused look on her face when i never had any issues. I received 2 more "gifts" on my way before I reached the Littles part of the neighborhood. Here there was a small gap with just some trees and no lights or anything, it divided the Giant houses from the littles houses. I Always feel nervous here, it made me feel like I was being watched or like a wolf was waiting to attack me. Tonight was no different so I picked up my pace. By now the light was starting to dim, and it was getting hard to see into the trees very far. However, that's not where the danger came from. I should have seen it, should have heard it but I assumed I was safe, and I let my guard down. A hand snaked around my waist, grabbing me and lifting me straight up about 5 feet. Carrying me into the trees I heard a female voice say "You are a rather curious one, and I'm not going to lie to you, curious littles are kind of my thing. Don't worry, I won't hurt you. In fact I hope you enjoy tonight's entertainment." About that time she plopped me onto a folding table, pretty certain I was about to be spanked into oblivion I rebelled, "I haven't done anything to deserve an attitude adjustment! Leave me alone!" I began kicking and trying to escape. A rather pleasant face came into view over top of me, a face that felt familiar in spite of never having met her. She spoke again, obviously surprised, "Spank you? no, I would never! You're a good little boy aren't you? At Least, that's what I've seen." "You were watching me? Isn't that stalking? What do you want?" "Only to reward you," her answer threw me off. No amazon rewards a little, ever. It had never happened in written history. Even before the demons had infested the little dimensions with portals. The words alone stunned me better than a punch to the face. In a heartbeat she had my pants off, my legs went up, which was enough to shake me out of my confusion. "Hey! what're you doing? Stop!! You said I hadn't done anything wrong." At that point something warm and very much like a slimy ball went right in my bum. It made me feel sick, I was going to spend a lifetime on the toilet, I just knew it. Maybe it was some kind of new hormone thing and I will be a girl tomorrow. Man, the problems of explaining that to my boss or my family. "Don't worry, it has some… undesirable side effects but they will wear off by morning. I don't like doing it this way but its hard to get you littles to believe I won't harm you." She replied coolly. "Now let me finish before it all starts getting into that cutie patootie system of yours" I was certain I heard a hint of baby talk in that last bit, but I wasn't going to fight whatever this was, why you might ask? It was already bad, and going to get worse if I put up a fight. No, she wouldn't adopt me, the penalty for that basically made her take my place with a new amazon. It wasn't something you heard of Amazons trying anymore. This however, was well within her rights. I felt my legs go up again and a soft padding went under my rear. Great! Yup it was a diaper. "Don't worry hun, it'll be just this one, I promise no more unless you want them." "Want them? WANT THEM?!" I was almost yelling. "Why would I ever want them?!?" "Don't worry, my little love, I promised you a reward, and believe me it will be one." At that moment my stomach twisted. I must have reacted because she quickly went back to her demonic work of putting me in padding. "That's my que, I promise no one has ever complained about this part." No one? As she pulled the diaper up I felt really really small and out of control, something I was not accustomed to. I was rapidly taped in inspite of my continued protests, she ignored me completely while she finished. And then… it started. It was wonderful, a pleasure like I had never felt. It wasn't sexual, or anything else I had ever had. It started small, like that first bite of cake when you have been staring at it for an hour. Or when you get that first drink after being incredibly thirsty. Oh it was good, but there was more it grew, it became as strong as an orgasm but there wasn't an orgasm. I felt the hands that lifted me up and pressed me against 2 soft pillows, wait those were breasts. The behemoth had laid me against her chest, she was going to kidnap me! "Hush, my little pretty boy, I'll make sure you're safe and sound. I'll bring you to your home and get you in bed, don't you worry. Shhh shhh, I've got you." At this point I didn't care, the pleasure had grown so much, it seemed to vibrate and caress and gently massage and everything all at once. My fatigue washed away and the fact I was in nothing but a diaper and a t-shirt laid against two, truthfully soft, giant mounds of my doom, didn't matter at all. My world was washed out in beautiful warm colors. I don't know how long it lasted, but I savored every second of it. It was luxurious, beyond sex, beyond a good beer, beyond anything I had ever known. And then everything faded out, I didn't know where I was, nor did I care, I was so tired, I was so relaxed I slept, a perfect sleep. Ch2. Where the sun doesn't shine or Butter up buttercup. *sniff sniff* ugh I was so tired. *sniff sniff* What was that smell? My consciousness returned slowly, mostly I became aware of the stench. Good dog almighty it was awful. I opened my eyes to the sun coming in my window, which had been opened. "I didn't do that," I thought. "How did I even get home?" Then it all came crashing home, as if my brain finally decided to wake up. The whole thing, but I didn't remember ever getting home or really anything after all the glorious fun had ended. But what was that smell? It was my butt. I lifted my body up to stand and became acutely aware of the diaper still taped around me. The smell was emanating from it. Sure enough, I could feel the mush inside it. Strangely, I wasn't even mad, I was kind of ready to be rid of it, though. The mushy mess shifted as I stood up, so gross. I reached down and grabbed a tab only to be rewarded with tape stuck fast. Great its a littleez, the diaper meant to stop any little from easily escaping it . It wasn't coming off without an Amazon or a pair of sharp scissors. Luckily, I stocked such items in my junk drawer. Moving downstairs in the most awkward yet, least poo touching way possible, I hurried to my freedom. Only, I was stopped by a packet on the counter, it only read "READ ME FIRST" in giant letters. I picked it up and opened the cover, and began reading… "I know this wasn't the state you wanted to wake up in, but I felt you may be ok with it after the enjoyment you got from last night. Don't worry your current state is far from permanent. Matter of fact the side effects should be wearing off or even gone by now. You'll be able to tell easily as there will be a slight green ooze in the front of your, im sure, rather full diaper." Curiosity got the best of me, sure enough, after pulling the waistband back just a little there was a green slime there. "This is built in so you know the end of this particular pleasure pill. I'm quite certain you have more questions and I will answer them in the next pages, but why don't you cut that diaper off and take a nice warm shower first then read on." That actually sounded smart. Moving to the bathroom I took care of the giant fluffy sack of crap around my waist. Climbed in the shower and let warm water run down my spine and now cleaner buttocks. I wondered at technology, after all these advancements we couldn't even upgrade our cleanliness, nothing beat a showe. The shower did feel almost righteous though, I guess you don't fix what's not broken. After drying off, I bagged the nastiness and threw it away, it was shaping up to be a nice day so I sat on the back porch to read, I didn't want to be disturbed: "My name is Tina Herringer, I am not an enemy but rather a simple purveyor of pleasurable items for you Littles. I do not want to harm you, only help you" sure sure, id heard that before. " what I gave you last night was a pleasure ball, or anal super stimulator, A.S.S for short, yes yes, I am aware of the funny you Littles see in that word. These pills are designed to give you more pleasure than you've ever felt before, the unfortunate side effect is incontinence of both kinds, bowel and urinary. I'm sure you noticed." Yeah, the house still wreaks, I thought. "So I'm sure by now you're wondering, why me? Well that's simple enough. You're a good boy. You don't cause trouble, or fight with other Littles, you don't argue with the maternity crazed Amazons. You are a good boy, you should be rewarded. I like to give good things to good boys. I mean what I say, I want to give you more. In good faith I have placed another pill in your underwear drawer, and yes another diaper, in case you'd like to give them another try. There is another note in the drawer as well. It contains more information than I have given here. Please do not read it until you use the pill, I would like you to be a good boy and wear the diaper as well. It is an auto diaper unlike the one you had on last night. It will release itself when you have filled it. Remember once it's on it doesn't come off without you using it for what it is for. If you use the pill and not the diaper I will know." On that note, the note ended. It felt a little ominous, I knew I should immediately go throw it away, but I really didn't want to. Was it really worth the potential issues? I mean she had been honest, I regained my control. At least I haven't peed myself yet. Whose to say the next one wouldn't make things worse? This Tina also knew too much. I didn't like it. I went upstairs and straight to the drawer, it was going to go in the incinerator trash immediately. There it was exactly as she had said in the note, a diaper, a glove, wipes, a note and of course the A.S.S. Grabbing everything I went straight outside to the chute that would burn it all. I flipped up the latch and hesitated. How would she know? Would she seek retribution if I tossed them? I lifted the pill off the pile of supplies. My mouth began to water, my whole body wanted it, I was trembling. How could I throw it away? I decided right there to keep the pill and note. Tossing the diaper and supplies, fudge the consequences. Taking it back inside with me I made a cup of coffee and sat down with the pill. It was in a tube like a prescription would come in. The label read," self lubricating, take one rectally, never more than one in a 24 hour period. Make sure to properly diaper anyone taking this medication, extreme loss of continence is expected lasting as long as 12 hours." What was I thinking? NEVER TAKE ANYTHING FROM THESE DEVILS. I just couldn't stop myself, she seemed sincere, and I… I trusted her?. Did I? It sure felt that way. Whatever, let's test this theory, I popped the lid open and pulled out the pill. It looked for all the world like a large green piece of candy. In a rush I dropped my pants and prepared myself, I was elated, I was desperate… in a flash it came to me i was standing in my kitchen with open windows to the world, and I was Half naked. Instead of coming to my senses I went to the bathtub, you know, just in case she wasn't lying about the incontinence part. Bent over and like magic it seemed to turn into a slimy thing as it was pressed into where the sun doesn't shine. A couple minutes later I was about to give up, it had seemed like only a few seconds last night, why was it taking so long? Stepping out of the tub and i felt the twinge I felt last night. It was happening, I was almost drooling on myself. The excitement and anticipation came on like a wave. I tried to get back into the tub but the pleasure started and it was all I could do to hold myself upright. With the next wave I went to my knees, and the third wave washed my world out again. I hovered in pure bliss for eternity again. Floating in an ocean of warm orange and yellow, caressed by the most gentle feeling ever. It was ecstasy once more…
  6. We've finally hit 225 patreons and certainly thank you for your following and ideas. There are a TON of new videos and photo sets to see. Click here to see what the buzz is all about.
  7. So I've had some free time and felt inspired to create another short story. I'm still working on creating an eBook (for anyone interested) that will have all of short stories I've created. For now let me know what you think of this short story and if I get enough support I'm thinking of creating a full story that will start with Alex's 18th birthday. Diapers and Denial: The Tale Of Two Friends Alex and Mike have been best friends since first meeting each other in elementary school. Both have been avid gamers and consistently have been found sitting in the living room glued to the TV screen. The boys would spend so much time in their spots that their mothers would joke about the living room rug having permeant indentations from where they were sitting. From Need for Speed Underground to Overwatch 2 both Alex and Mike have played the games together. In this alternative world, potty training doesn’t begin until the ripe age of 19. Adults young as 18 can start potty training but in reality most adults don’t get fully trained until 20 to 21. Alex and Mike are bit embarrassed about their situation. A large portion of their peers have already expressed interest in potty training while some have even started wearing pull-ups. To Alex and Mike, they feel like they were the only ones who still needed diapers and are at risk of becoming outcasts. On a rainy afternoon over at Mikes house we find the two friends in Mike’s room glued in front of the TV. Mike is playing the latest Call of Duty while Alex sits close by watching and doom scrolling on his phone. As Alex continues to doom scroll he feels his stomach rumble in an ominous way alerting him that a messy diaper is on the horizon. This wouldn’t be problem for Alex or even Mike as they’re both wearing diaper. But since Alex’s last birthday he has begin feeling new emotions, one of which is embarrassment when doing his business. As a result, Alex has begin the phase of hiding when doing business to lessen the embarrassment. "Hey, Mike, I’m to go to grab a drink from the kitchen. Do you want anything?,” he said, trying to sound casual. But Mike knew what was really going on. "Do you need to poop?" he asked, noticing the telltale potty dance Alex was doing along with him holding his stomach. Silent farts that Alex had been releasing that was now filling the room was also a good indication of what was coming. Alex blushed while crossing his arms over his stomach. “No" Mike could easily tell that Alex was going to mess his diaper soon just by his body language alone but didn't mind. He was used to it by now and did the same type of actions when he need to go as well. However, Mike wasn’t the one for modesty and had not yet begin feeling the same level emotions that Alex had been experiencing. Mike was contempt on squatting wherever he was at and pushing a load into his diaper before retuning to what he was previously doing. To Alex, the thought of messing his diaper while Mike was nearby was too embarrassing. He tried to play it cool, but the rumbling in his stomach was getting worse and he knew he had to go soon. "Well, I'm going to get a cold juice box and enjoy the cool air in the kitchen for a few minutes because your room hot as hell ," Alex said quickly before getting up from the floor and walking towards the door. Mike noticed Alex's sudden change in behavior and realized Alex maybe embarrassed by what was going on. "Alex, wait. You don’t have to feel embarrassed about using your diaper around me.” “I do it all the time around my parents and I know you see me squatting when I go” “If you want, you can hide beside my bed and I won't watch if that makes you feel better?” Mike side looking over to the small space occupied between his bed and dresser. Alex felt his cheeks turn red with embarrassment. "No, no. I don’t need to poop, ok, I'm fine. I'll be right back," he said before quickly leaving the room. He made his way to the living room, where he knew there was a hidden spot behind the couch. He silently crawled behind the couch, and squatted. Alex listed for any noises that could indicate that Mike or even Mike’s parents were coming close his location. He pushed down with his tummy muscles resulting in a small load filling the seat of his diaper with an audible wet fart. Taking a moment to listen for anyone, he pushed down more with grunt causing his diaper to balloon out. With one final push Mike finished pooping his diaper before releasing a small stream of pee adding to the mix. After he was finished, he felt immerse relief. He couldn't believe he had just hidden behind a couch to mess his diaper as the norm last year was the same as Mike. He stayed there for a while longer to ensure he was done while also, trying to gather the courage to go back to Mike's room. Eventually, he took a deep breath and made his way back to Mike's room, trying to act as if nothing had happened. But Mike noticed the smell right away and could see the bulge in Alex's pants from the load he had deposited. Not too mention Alex didn’t have a juice box and his obvious potty dance posture was now replaced with relaxed look. “Do you feel better now that you, cooled off?" Mike asked, trying to hide his smirk knowing that Alex did not get a juice box. Alex felt his face turn even redder. "No, I mean yes. I'm fine," he said, lying. But Mike knew better. He didn't say anything, though, knowing how embarrassed Alex was feeling. He just continued to play the game, pretending like everything was normal.
  8. The Vacation: Part 1 Tony felt like he was going to vibrate in excitement. But he couldn't let his parents pick up on what he was thinking as they carried their bags to the door. "Bye, Mom. Bye, Dad. Have fun on your trip!" He told them both as he hugged them. As previously stated, his parents were going out of town for a whole week. Needing some time for themselves and finally feeling comfortable enough to do so for longer than a few days. Usually, Tony would be stuck "babysitting" his 14 year old sister Isabella during this time. Toting her to all her friends' houses, cooking her dinner every night, even bringing her along when he went into town for his own business. He loved her, of course, but for a young man at the age of 18 he had better things to do when left alone. That would change this time however. Isabella had managed to convince her parents to let her go on a school trip to New York that lasted the same duration. She was ecstatic. And so was Tony for that matter. He finally had the freedom to do what he wanted while his parents were gone. Who knows when he'd get another chance like this! "Try not to burn the house down while we're gone." His father told him only partially joking. "George, give him a break. He's such a good boy! You know we never have to worry about him." His mom, only able to do so thanks to her heels, grabbed his cheeks in a pinch and spoke to him in a baby voice. "Isn't that right, Mama's baby boy? Always been Daddy's good boy too!" "Mom! Cut it out!" Tony whined as he pulled away. Cheeks red from both the pinching and embarrassment. "You're gonna miss your flight!" His father, always early, instinctively looked to his watch and nodded. "Josie we better get going so we can get there before it gets busy." Tony's mother waved him off but grabbed her bag anyway. "Fine. Bye sweetie! We'll text you when we get there! Call us if anything happens!" Finally, finally, his parents got into the car and drove away. As soon as Tony closed the door he let out a large cheer and raced up the stairs to his room. Texting his friends the good news, they all shared his feelings. 'Tony does this mean 24 hours gaming sessions every day?!' His best friend Dylan asked. 'You wish.' Tony texted back. 'Well are we going to at least play right now?' 'Give me an hour. I need to go to the store and stock up on microwave food.' He lied feeling only slightly guilty. 'Bummer man.' Tony was going to the store, but his focus wasn't the microwave food. They had plenty already. What he wanted was the diapers. An unusual thing to want as an 18 year old boy. But Tony wasn't like other boys. He wasn't a party-er of any sort; more content to play video games online with his friends instead. And unlike most boys, while he did play sports, he wasn't obsessed with them. This was summer break though. No sports to be played at all. And no sister to bug him into taking her with him. And nobody else in the house to catch him... His phone beeped, catching his attention. 'At the airport now, hun. See you in a week!' His mom messaged. That was the all clear. Now stuck at the airport, there was no chance of them randomly coming home for forgotten items. Grabbing his keys off his desk, he raced back downstairs and to his own car in the driveway. Driving to the nearest store he knew would have them, Tony couldn't sit still. He knew where he was going and knew what he wanted. Going down the isle of adult diapers, he found a package that had just what he needed. Heavy absorbency, disposable, tab closure diapers. He would never be able to buy these with his sister. She would question him on every turn. He wouldn't even be able to look at them. But she wasn't here now. Turning to go check out, Tony's eyes caught on a colorful package. It was a package of Goodnites. Marketed for bedwetters. Tony already had what he needed...but the childish designs on the pull-ups made him curious to what they would feel like on him. Deciding it wouldn't hurt to try, he grabbed one of the largest sizes hoping they would fit. Shopping done, he went straight for the self-checkout, and took his new purchases home. Heart pounding in his chest, Tony grabbed the packages and tossed them onto his bed, unsure on which to try first...but he would have plenty of time for both.
  9. Hi I'm a abdl but mostly diaper lover on Cleveland Ohio area. I love making new friends and hanging out. I do love messing and wetting my diaper. I love going on diaper hikes, going to movies padded, videogames, watching movies, making fun cute vids and pics with friends. Feel free to message me on here. Or add me on telegram at twinkbutt.
  10. Diaper changing machine by selene-bunny
  11. Hello everyone, This is the first chapter of my latest story. This is currently being published chapter by chapter on my Patreon and will be available in its entirety later this year. You can find the latest chapters at patreon.com/alex_bridges. All characters are 18+ Chapter 1 It’s not like I did it on purpose. I’m not sorry, but it’s not like I did it on purpose. I babysit three times a week on average, more like five times in the summer. I want to pay for as much of college as I can in cash, and childcare pays better than retail or waiting tables. Especially now that schools keep opening and closing, parents are desperate for a night away. For me, an opportunity to make more money, which I need. I’m not going to risk my reputation as the best sitter in town just because of a little mix up. “Hi, Mrs. Rooney,” I said when she opened the door. “Hi, Sally. Come on in. Thanks for coming over on short notice.” I followed her into her kitchen; the Rooneys always have good stuff in the fridge. I didn’t get where I am as a sitter by abusing fridge privileges, but I don’t pass up the benefit either. She was dressed to the nines. I never asked, but it always seemed like she and Mr. Rooney must be going someplace expensive. Just based on their house alone, they must be one of the richer families I sit for. They’re not wealthy, but they got the upper-middle-class thing down pat. Literally the only people I know whose entryway it an actual room. “Always happy to when I can,” I replied, “I like Jamie and Jackie.” Well behaved kids, easy to get along with. “O, they’re both at friends’ houses tonight. It’ll just be you and Gordy tonight. Is that okay?” Like I couldn’t tell this ‘misunderstanding’ was totally on purpose. She had this guilty, pleading look on her face, but that was so beside the point. “Gordon? Really?” I knew Gordon. More specifically, I’ve known him since kindergarten, which would make fourteen years we’ve known each other. We graduated a little over year ago in the same class; we were even in the same twelfth grade homeroom, and now we’re both sophomores townies at the same college. I’ve sat for the Rooneys more than a few times, and Gordon was, obviously, never one of my charges. I just figured that was because he was the same age as me. Come to think of it, he was never even home when I sat for the kids because if he was, why would they need me to watch the kids? “I wouldn’t ask. Normally he spends the night at my sister’s or a friend’s house when you’re over, but he can’t tonight.” Like, but he’s … “But why does he need a sitter? He’s twenty. He’s, like, a month older than me, right?” And I’m also twenty. “Yes, but I don’t like leaving him alone if it can be helped.” “O … kay. So we’ll just watch a movie, I guess.” Get paid a hundred bucks to watch a movie with one of my peers? Weird, but fine by me. We’re not friends exactly, but we’re friendly. We were sorta friends when we were younger, but less so once we got to middle school. Gordon’s not exactly Mister Popular. Everyone’s nice to him, though, and he seems nice enough too. Just … different crowds. “Not exactly. I can explain fast, but we’re running late.” “That’s fine. I’ll stay.” “O, thank you. We just really need a night out, and since he got in trouble on campus today, he’s not allowed to go to his friend’s house and my sister already had plans and …” Didn’t really need her life story. “Whatever. It’s fine. Just tell me what’s up,” I said with a dab of false cheer to cover my WTF. She’s running late; I’m getting paid whether she tells me all this other stuff or not, so hey, let’s skip to the part I need to know, right? “Gordy,” Mrs. Rooney said, “come sit at the table with us. I want you to hear all of this so you can’t say you didn’t know later.” I followed her eyes, and color me surprised to see Gordon – Gordy at home, apparently; he always hated being called that in school – standing in the corner in his pajamas at six o’clock. I know the difference between lazy around-the-house-clothes and jammies, and those were definitely jammies. He shuffled over blushing all the way to his ears as he kept his eyes pointed at the floor. We all took a seat at the table. I couldn’t tell if he as about to cry, tantrum, or both, and I wouldn’t blame him if he did. If I were him, I’d probably have broken something and peeled out of the driveway while flipping the bird. I mean, we’re not kids. We’re not even teenagers. We’re way too old for a babysitter by about eight years. “First off,” Mrs. Rooney said, “do you know about Gordy’s issue?” “His diapers? Yeah.” Like he could keep that a secret for since literally the entire time I’d known him. No one made fun of him for it, not in a long time. Kindergarten and maybe first grade a little, but even in kindergarten it quickly became normal: our class had a kid in diapers. An adult in diapers now. And he’s not on the spectrum or delayed or anything. I don’t know what the issue is cuz it’s none of my business, but he’s always been in diapers, at least so far as I know. You’d have to be dense to have not figured it out within the first week of kindergarten. And if even if you were dense, when we got to middle school and had to change for gym, I think they let him change in a private stall or something, but you could totally hear him crinkling through those shorts. And no one teased him. Gordon wears diapers, always has; he went to the nurse a couple times a day, and we all knew why. If anything, people in school were kind of protective of him even though he didn’t need it. I even heard a rumor that when a new kid asked about it in tenth grade, the biggest bully in our class hauled off and punched him just to make it perfectly clear no one bullies Gordon. “You’ll need to check and change him tonight.” Just when I thought Gordon – well, when in Rome – Gordy couldn’t bow his head any lower. “Uh, he doesn’t do that himself? Or can’t he?” You don’t get to be the most sought-after babysitter in town by being squeamish about changing diapers, but one fact I do know: toddlers make bigger messes than newborns, and twenty-year-old Gordy has about a hundred and five pounds on the average two-year-old. Though come to think of it, I didn’t know if Gordy needed diapers for that or just for wetting accidents. In the brief second I had to consider that, it occurred to me even a toddler who still has wetting accidents is usually in a pull-up, not a full blown diaper. Our school’s gym shorts covered everything, but there was no mistaking Gordy’s underpants for a pull-up. He wears diapers. “Gordy got a diaper rash last week. If he wants the privilege of changing his own diapers, he needs to be responsible about it, which means no rashes. I’m sorry to even ask you to change him, but I like to be very consistent with the rules, and the rule is if he gets a diaper rash, no changing his own diapers for a month.” Not surprised exactly. She’s one of the stricter parents I sat for. So yeah, she’s his stepmom, but she’s not really an evil stepmom. She’s just a stickler for rules. I was afraid to ask this and very sorry to have to ask it in front of Gordy, poor little guy, but I had to. “Um, does he … both ways?” I guess I could’ve asked him, but he seemed like he’d rather have a hole swallow him than answer any questions. “He doesn’t usually have a dirty diaper in the evening.” “Still …” “Two hundred for the night,” Mrs. Rooney said before I could finish the sentence we both knew I was in the middle of saying. “Two-fifty.” Hey, I’m not one to miss an opportunity. Do you know what books cost for just one semester? “Done.” “Sorry,” I said under my breath to Gordy. I felt bad enough for him that she was making him have a sitter, but how much worse for him to hear what it costs to get someone to look after him, which he doesn’t want anyway, and pretty obvious why anyone would want extra to sit for him. So yes, I felt bad for him, but it’s just … the ‘usually’ in ‘doesn’t usually have a dirty diaper in the evening’ sorta stands out like sore thumb in that sentence, right? It would if you were me, and I am me. “And another thing,” Mrs. Rooney said. “Mommmm,” he whined. A little spark of rebellion flashed in his eyes. I didn’t know about what, but that’s what you expect from someone his age. I guess I understand if life’s circumstances made him a little more likely to give in than lash out even when any of the boys we graduated with most of the girls would’ve told their stepmom where to go by now. “Gordon, last warning.” I looked from her to him, and that little spark turned into a little water, and he looked back down at the table. “As I was saying, Gordon got in trouble on campus today and is grounded, so he’s not spending the night at a friend’s like he normally does. Why don’t you tell the story, Gordy, since you think you’re old enough to say anything you want?” Did I say ‘stepmom’, cuz I meant ‘bitch.’ And Mrs. Rooney is not normally a bitch, so that got me more than a little curious what exactly he’d done to piss her off so mightily. On top of which, it’s not exactly easy to get in trouble on campus. I mean, we’re adults. You can do some seriously stupid stuff on campus without getting in trouble. He sighed and answered, “I called called someone … a name.” “The ‘C’ word,” his stepmom clarified. Or should I say his very reasonable, no more pissed off than she had a right to be (but could still be a whole lot more chill and even more thoughtful) stepmom clarified. “Gordy actually called a woman the ‘C’ word.” “But she …” Gordy tried to defend his actions. “I know what she said, and you had every right to be angry with her, but that is not how you talk to or about women. You know that, and losing your temper is not an excuse for using a slur.” She turned back to me. “I already washed his mouth out, but that language also earned him a bedtime spanking.” “A sp … O … kay.” Of all the ways my day could’ve gone, didn’t see this one coming. Like, at all. I personally never got why some parents get so bent out of shape about bad words (how bad can they be when you can turn on network TV and hear most of them?), and I didn’t really get why she cared given that – did I mention it six times already? – Gordy is twenty years old. On the other hand … now I understood why Mrs. Rooney was taking it so seriously. It’s not that big a deal if you think of the ‘C’ word as a swear, but if you think of it as a slur, yeah, much bigger deal. I guess it depends on how you use it, cuz I could see how it could be a slur, but I’ve always thought of it more as a swear. Not that my opinion meant anything in the circumstances. I’m the babysitter – I literally just work here. “I’m too old,” Gordy interjected probably (more like definitely) more loudly than someone in his position should’ve. I mean, I agree with him, but he still should’ve just kept quiet. There’s standing up for yourself, and then there’s digging the hole deeper. If she had already washed his mouth out (ick!), not let him go out with friends, and hired a sitter for him, I couldn’t imagine any argument, not matter how obviously valid, changing her mind. Mrs. Rooney is a fit woman; I’ve seen her play a heckuva game of tennis at the club, so not a surprise she could be on her feet and have her stepson by the ear so damn fast. Gordy’s not the first kid I’ve gone to babysit and found standing in a timeout; or the first kid I’ve gone to sit and seen spank-marched to the nearest corner for corner time; or even the first kid I’ve sat for who earned a spanking on my watch. But he was the first kid I’ve sat for who wasn’t, ya know, an actual kid. He may have crinkled all the way to the corner; he may have eeped a little when she tugged his ear; he may have tried to get out of the way of her hand as she delivered those underhand spanks; and he may even be kinda cute in a boyish kind of way, but definitely an adult. One whose birthday actually comes before mine. Diapered or not, adult. “Not another word,” Mrs. Rooney warned him, “or I’ll take your pants down right here. You just stand there and listen.” And damn did she mean it, even in evening wear. That tone? Enough to make me almost jump out of my chair to find my own corner and listen. “Are we ready, honey,” Mr. Rooney asked as he appeared from somewhere. Not that I wanna be that babysitter, but Mr. Rooney can take me anywhere so long as he’s wearing his tux. Shawl collar? Makes him seem even taller. No mistaking him for your waiter. And who even goes places that are black tie? “Just a minute,” Mrs. Rooney replied and picked up the pace; they probably had a reservation at one of those places you have to reserve six months ahead of time. Anyway, she continued quickly with, “He takes a bath on Fridays, not a shower. When he gets out of the bath, please give him his spanking. His diaper comes down, and he goes over your knee. He knows where to the hairbrush is. Then it’s straight to bed. Lights out at 9:30. That means no dawdling in the tub, Gordy. Out at 9:15. Understood?” He either understood or he didn’t want to risk saying anything he had every right to say but shouldn’t unless he wanted two spankings in one day. “Any questions,” she asked me. “So … on his … bare?” “Have you ever given a spanking before?” “Yeah … Well, a swat on their reset button,” I said, oddly embarrassed. I mean, most parents don’t even spank anymore, let alone allow – let alone ask! – a sitter to do it. I’ve tapped a tantruming toddler on the bottom before, but that’s not even a spanking. “Are you okay doing it? I wouldn’t ask, but the rule is a bedtime spanking. It’s best for them to get their consequence as soon as possible, and Gordy really needs the structure.” I guess that was all Gordy could take. “But she can’t! She’s the same age as me!” There was silence as Mrs. Rooney turned and looked at him like he was out of his mind. I thought he was in his exact right mind, but if I had to live with her, always strict like she is and and just then downright exuding this weird kind of determined, calm-but-pissed-off vibe she was giving off, I think I’d have kept my mouth shut. I think he realized that too cuz he didn’t say anything else or turn around. So that was two outbursts (justified if unwise) since I’d gotten there plus calling someone the ‘C’ word all in one day. Talk about your verbal incontinence. I don’t feel very strongly about spanking one way or the other. It didn’t do me any harm – though the last one I got was in third or fourth grade, and it was pretty rare before then too – but I’m not one of those crazy people who thinks you can’t possibly raise godly tomatoes (or whatever asinine phrase the bible bunch uses) without it. Still, I was the babysitter. It’s kind of my critical to my job to not let “you’re just the babysitter so you can’t XYZ” slide. On the one hand, pick your battles. On yet another hand, some battles you gotta fight. So I got up and connected that hand hard with Gordy’s butt. “I’m the babysitter. I’m in charge. And if your stepmom says you’re getting a spanking, you’re getting a spanking.” Two bonuses to stepping up like I did. First, and this wasn’t the main thing but was intentional, Mrs. Rooney smiled thinly and stood up, not to follow up on her threat to spank Gordy but to leave. Good riddance. Who needs those vibes around? Second, unintentional bonus: holy crap did I feel more powerful than I ever have in my life. And turned on. My promise ring didn’t make the journey from youth group to my mom’s car, but never I felt the way I did right then without a D or a D-cell battery before. Downside? Gordy finally lost it and started sniffling. I know the two spanks I landed didn’t actually hurt through his diaper, but I’m sure he was feeling about two inches tall having his college classmate spank him on his diaper while telling him she could and would give him a real spanking later that same night. I hated that I made him feel that way, even if I was just his stepmom’s instrument in this case. But also, and I feel guilty for saying this, it kinda added to the whole arousal hearing him sniffle. So … there’s a thing I learned about myself that night. Mrs. Rooney said to me, “I think you’ll do fine, but if you have any questions, Gordy will answer them. Not his first trip over a knee.” “Another fifty.” Did I say that? Good for me! “That’s fair. Edward,” she called out to wherever Mr. Rooney had gone, “ready when you are.” To me she said, “Thank you again and sorry for all the fuss. I didn’t want to call just anyone over. I trust you. He may not want you here, but I told him you’d keep everything between us, won’t you?” “Of course.” Also, ‘may not?’ Try resented the hell out of it, understandably so. And I resented the hell out of her asking me to sit and springing this on me. “We’ll be home very late.” “I know. I’ll probably be asleep on the couch when you get home.” I stood against the doorframe and watched Mr. Rooney count out three hundred dollars and put it next to the pizza money. I told them to have fun. She called me a godsend and barely avoided the door hitting her on the butt on the way out. To my right, Gordy in the corner, no longer sniffling but still staring at the wall on his naughty spot. To my left, three hundred dollars on the counter just for spanking and diapering a grown man. If I’d only known about this cottage industry sooner! Heck, I’d have paid off my car by now. Go to patreon.com/alex_bridges to continue reading
  12. Hey! Welcome to the Lovington Effect. I hope you stick around for awhile. While writing Without Merit, I thought of a prequel for my prequel even though there isn't a sequel, or an actual story for that matter. However, Lover Boy takes place in the 1980s, and it was supposed to be a one-shot, then the music took over. And entirely different story came out. A warning though. This story is rougher than Without Merit, and is a lot darker. It also contains frequent mentions of a sexual assault. If that is big concern to you, there are other great stories on this site. All characters are over eighteen. Thanks for reading. 1: Private Eyes 2: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun 3: Every Breath you Take... 4: ... I'll be Watching You 5: You Spin me Round (Like a Record) 6: The Voice Beyond the Mirror 7: Total Eclipse of the Heart 8: The New Forever 9: The Baby Shower ————————- Lover Boy 1988 Part 1: Private Eyes Every girl in Lovington knew about Beau Taylor. He was a walking, talking cautionary tale; all too similar to Icarus, fly too close to his hotness and your heart was sure to melt. Senior quarterback for the varsity football team, muscular build, tight denim jeans. Notorious bad boy with good hair. What was there not to like? He had bedded a good number of the girls in school, and a good number of girls outside of school as well. No one from the female persuasion was safe from the ‘Lover Boy’. The upperclassmen hung out on the lawn after the final bell, finding spots among the green grass, on the side of the concrete stairs, or beneath the shade of a half a dozen oak trees that lined the side of the school. The football players laid claim to a grassy knoll that overlooked the parking lot. From their high perch, they would catcall and wolf-whistle at all the girls. Appreciating the angry looks from mothers and fathers who happened to pick up their blushing virginal daughters from high school. Beau found his friends already there, laid about the ground, lounging and laughing. His best friend, Sherrod, sat taller between a pair of reclining oversized humans known as offensive linemen, Monster and Handley. Sherrod was an incredible athlete like Beau, they shared the backfield as quarterback and running back. They also shared the same outfit that day. Black shirt, blue jeans and denim jacket, down to the same bright red Converse shoes. Beau slapped the back of his black friend to grab his attention, catching Sherrod by surprise. Loudly announcing his presence with, “How are you three queers doing?” The three supposed ‘queers’ laughed as they exchanged special handshakes without leaving the ground. Monster looked up and asked, “What’s up, Beau?” “Nothing besides my dick.” The quarterback handled his crotch through his jeans. They all laughed again. “No, seriously man,” Beau continued, “my johnson is a little tired, it had quite the weekend.” “No shit?” Sherrod flashed a curious smile. “No shit, my man. You know how I score on and off the field. I’m talking about Vanessa, Christine, and Holly. I’m talking about how I get busy!” Next came something of a pelvic thrust to make sure his friends picked up his subtle connotation. Handley appeared surprised. “I didn’t think Holly was the type for that kind of thing.” “That’s where you’re mistaken, tubby.” Beau corrected him. “All of the ladies are the type for the ‘Lover Boy’.” Sherrod groaned. “Come on, you don’t have to show us your ass again.” But it was already too late, the jeans and the BVDs were already mid-buttock, revealing his heart tattoo with the words ‘Lover Boy’ on his upper right cheek. They didn’t want to look, but a heart-shaped tattoo on a pasty white ass has the innate capacity to grab attention. “You need to stop showing everyone your butt,” Sherrod warned him after catching an eyeful. “People are going to think that you’re homo or something.” “Well, I’m not the one who keeps staring at my buns of steel. What does that say about you guys?” Beau intermittently flexed his cheeks side to side like an experienced male stripper in a speedo. Which caught the attention of a trio of girls just beyond the football players. He made sure to give them a wink when he was done pulling up his pants. Monster gave the girls a wink, too. But they laughed incredulously and turned away from him. Maybe the big guy needed a tattoo on his butt. Handley asked, “Beau, why are you even here with us lowly, car-less peons — where’s the firebird?” Beau shrugged his backpack further over his shoulder and looked away. “You know, the old Bird is in the shop, getting its oil changed.” This was a lie. He had totaled his muscle car early Sunday morning. Right after showing Vanessa the ‘Lover Boy’ in the backseat and sending her limping back to her parents. Also, right after downing a six pack of beer. His parents were more than a little pissed at him about the wrecked car, especially his tough-love mom. She said that there would be a few changes coming his way. A dire warning that Beau didn’t care to heed. Speaking of his mom, he saw her station wagon turn the corner. Beau rushed towards the getaway vehicle, waving at the dudes, blowing kisses to the ladies. He didn’t want anyone to see him getting into the car with his mom. He had a reputation to uphold. “See ya, losers.” Beau called back. “Catch you at practice tomorrow, and I’ll see you girls after the game.” He jogged down the hill to where the wagon ran idle at the curb. Beau didn’t even notice Vanessa in the front seat until he was literally right on top of the car. The surprising sight caused him to trip as he rocketed down the hill, his hurried stumbling and fall braced by the impact of the long wood-paneled hood of the station wagon. How had he not spotted her there? The loud blonde hair, the blinding pink halter top, and dangling earrings should have been noticed from the top of the hill, from over a block away, or the next county over. Beau played it off as being silly, he was good looking enough to get away with being a klutz if it looked like he did it on purpose. He comically stretched out over the hood of the car like a bikini model. Moment saved. Vanessa rolled down the window with the hand crank. “Beau, what the hell are you doing on your mom’s car?” Mmm. There was that tasty condescension that he loved about his girlfriend. If you could call it ‘going steady’, he and Vanessa were the closest thing to going steady. Obviously, it didn’t mean they were completely true to one another. “I have a better question,” Beau said as he pulled himself upright and back onto his feet. “What are you doing inside my mom’s car?” Vanessa did what she did best, dealing with his childishness by running a hand through her hair. The fake blonde, over done, hair-sprayed fashion statement was partially to blame for the hole in the o-zone layer. All joking aside, it wasn’t all bad to be with a girl like Vanessa. She did have her perks; two of them in fact, and they sat on her chest in the most beautiful fashion, straining the thin fabric of the pink halter top. Ten years ago, it would have been empowering for her not to even wear a bra. Suddenly, Beau dreamed of driving a Delorean and meeting a crazy guy named Doc. She leaned out the window. “Quit being stupid, I’m trying to run some errands with your mom.” Beau hesitated outside of the car. “Errands? Where are you guys heading?” His mom turned from the driver seat, her thick glasses captured the light in a weird way. It made her eyes look all funny. “We need to pick up a few things from ‘Ma’ Webber’s for a baby shower.” Mrs. Taylor lit the cigarette between her lips. “Baby shower?” Beau grinned. “I hope I’m not going to be a daddy.” He winked at Vanessa who lightly tousled her hair again to dismiss his stupidity. Vanessa answered matter-of-factly, “You won’t be.” He was in the back of the station wagon without any fuss, leaning over the front seat without a seatbelt, and bothering Vanessa as much as he could with his mom present. That only lasted a few minutes, as Vanessa didn’t seem to care for Beau, or his presence, or his flirtatious sense of humor. Recognizing a lost cause, Beau finally gave up. The radio played a fuzzy tune, the tired speakers in doors kicked out the whinging guitars of Hall and Oates. The song was called 'Private Eyes'. Private Eyes they're watching you they see your every move Private Eyes they're watching you Private Eyes they're watching you watching you watching you watching you Beau drummed along with the beat with his fingers. The car strolled down main street, past the city park, slowing as it went by the old government lab just outside the center of town. You play with words you play with love you can twist it around baby that ain't enough cause I'm gonna know if you're letting me in or letting me go don't lie when you're hurting inside 'cause you can't escape my Private Eyes He settled on chilling against the vinyl seat, trying to put together why he even bothered with Vanessa in the first place. Then he reminded himself of exactly two reasons ‘why’. As he leaned back, he looked out the side window as the station wagon came to a stop in front of a house, not a baby store. Beau instantly recognized the house. It’s where he picked up Christine last Friday night; before he showed her the ‘Lover Boy’ in the back of the movie theatre. Oh boy, did Vanessa know about Christine? Because Christine knew about Vanessa, and she told Beau that she didn’t care if he already had a girlfriend. He watched in horror as Christine came out of the house and approached the passenger side with a brooding look, her jaw set and her eyes forward like living was an awful chore. She went by Christine, not ever Chrissy, you’d get popped in the mouth for calling her that. And she was the typical punk rock type, a metal head, a headbanger. Always wore black clothing, black jeans, ripped t-shirt, short cropped black hair. Even the leather fingerless gloves were black, and they looked great against her ivory skin. Multiple piercings in each ear, multiple studs in her leather jacket. She gave off a lot of that ‘look but don’t touch’ kind of vibe. But that didn’t keep away the ‘Lover Boy’. Beau could see past the rough exterior, which was easy to do since he’d more than once seen her naked. Her skinny pale figure had the slightest of curves at her breasts and hips, and was something to die for in the dark. Her bodacious body was worth all of the trouble that it came with, even if it drew the ire of the tempestuous blonde riding up front. Christine spoke to Vanessa. “You guys are running a little late, Vanessa. I just called Holly to tell her we were on our way.” Beau choked. “Holly, too?” Not her. Anyone but her. The girls turned his way and gave him a condescending glare to prove how much they were planning on ignoring him. Vanessa addressed Christine as coldly as a suspicious lover. “Thanks for coming with us, Christine. It wouldn’t happen any other way. She wanted us all to be there.” “Who? What?” Beau sounded the alarm. Vanessa interrupted him. “Beau, sweetie, us grown-ups are trying to talk.” Grown-ups? Sweetie? Her name calling had certainly been toned down this afternoon. Normally, Vanessa called him every four and five letter word that could make a sailor blush. “We got to motor if we want to make it on time,” Vanessa continued, undeterred. “Hop in the back with little Beau, and we can be on our way.” Christine was already pulling her seatbelt over her chest before they got moving again. She asked, “What took you guys so long?” “Beau was all about dry humping the hood like Tawny Kitaen,” explained Vanessa. “I wasn’t dry humping anything,” complained Beau. “Sure, you weren’t.” Christine tapped his cheek with a belittling soft touch. He slid to the bottom of his seat as Christine settled down next to him. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. It felt like calamity was knocking at the door, and all he could do was hide behind the curtains. Beau didn’t want to go to Holly’s house, see Holly’s face, or share the same planet as Holly. There were reasons why he wasn’t as proud of his conquest of Holly as he was Christine and Vanessa. It could be scratched up to miscommunication. He’d leave it at that. They had to check the addresses when they pulled up to Holly’s street, because all of the houses in the neighborhood looked the same. This one had a real quaint cottage appeal, a real copycat of the house next door and the one next door to that. Vanessa spotted little Holly on the porch-swing in front of her house, just rocking back and forth in a slow, melancholy way. She wasn’t taking this well, some girls don’t after getting the ‘Lover Boy’. Holly was demure, mousy little thing in round glasses. A naive brunette that always wore cheap dresses that looked ripped straight out of Little House on the Prairie. She liked puppies, kittens, rainbows and ponies, they were all over her Lisa Frank trapper keeper. She was so childish and innocent, and Beau — Beau gritted his teeth. He growled, “Why does she have to come with us?” Christine recoiled. “Whoa, Beau. What’s crawled up your butt?” “I just don’t fucking — I mean, I just don’t like her, she’s super weird, a real psycho like in that Carrie movie.” Mrs. Taylor waved a bony finger at her son. “Young man, you need to do a better job of watching your mouth, or I’ll pull this car over.” Beau slammed the front seat with an overhead swing from both of his hands. “We’re already pulled over, mom! Quit being such an idiot all the time.” Christine put a hand on his shoulder to calm him, but he rebuffed her touch with an angry shrug. “Beau, you don’t have to spaz out on your mom like that.” It was just so strange. All of these women in the same place was doing things to his mind. Making him think about things, and Beau didn’t like to think about things. Reflection was only for mirrors, not for Beau Taylor. He wouldn’t reflect on what happened this weekend, he wouldn’t think about it at all. His knuckles were in his mouth, stifling a tiny internal scream. He was still deep in his non-reflection when the car door opened. Holly was there, but her usual braces-filled smile was noticeably missing, and something cold and callous filled its place. No, she wasn’t taking the ‘Lover Boy’ treatment very well at all. He still greeted her, pretending to be all friendly-like even if he knew they weren’t friends. “What’s happening, Holly?” Beau tried to mend the fence, but it looked beyond repair. “Oh, hi Beau,” Holly replied, nasally and snarky. “When did you start sucking your thumb like a baby?” He didn’t even realize his hand was already back in his mouth. Beau quickly yanked it away, pretending to scratch his chin, or anything besides sucking his thumb. His frazzled response very much the opposite of being the ‘Lover Boy’. “I’m not sucking my thumb, I was just —“ Holly interrupted, “Sucking your fingers?” Mrs. Taylor weighed in on the subject as she put the car into gear. “My baby Beau always had an oral fixation. When he wasn’t on a bottle, he was on a pacifier. Took a damn long while to kick that habit.” His mom frowned as she flicked the ash free from her cigarette out the rolled down window. Christine giggled, “Oh, really.” “That explains a lot actually,” Vanessa added. “His obsession with certain things, am I right Christine?” “You’re right, can’t keep his mouth off of them.” Vanessa scowled towards the backseat in the overhead rear view mirror. At both Beau and Christine. What were these girls doing? Talking about ‘Lover Boy’ things in front of his mom! You didn't do that to a guy. He wasn't one to be afraid of a little innuendo, but there was a time and place to be sexual, and this wasn't it. That kind of talk was best saved for the backseat of the Bird, or the row furthest from the screen where no one could see or hear. Or in a restroom at her parent's restaurant. No. Why couldn't he block that out? He couldn't push that out of his mind like he wanted. It stuck around like a bad smell, as soon as it left his mind, it found its way back like a boomerang. Beau searched about the car for someone to take his side, but no one came to his defense. He suddenly felt exposed, and he didn’t like it one bit. “You’re all just trying to be funny, like I’m sucking my thumb right before we go shopping for a baby shower. What are you going to do? Buy me a pacifier? Goo-goo, gaa-gaa.” He expected them to laugh, especially when he broke into the baby talk. They just stared at him, as empty of mirth as a funeral. “You’re starting to get the right idea,” Holly laughed. Then the whole car laughed. In unison. Things were getting sorta weird around here, and Beau had enough of being outnumbered by their little hen party. There was far too much estrogen in the air, he had to puff his hairy chest to counter all the womanly energy. Something to do with aligning of the moon and the coordination of their monthly cycles. Deep thinking stuff. “Who’s this baby shower for, anyways?” Beau shot back with some swagger. “I’d like to know which one of you got knocked up.” The car went silent again. He shrugged like the Fonz. “What? Was it something I said?” Vanessa sighed, “Quit being such a wastoid, Beau.” Holly asked, “Why do you need to know?” The mousy girl spoke in a distant way as her eyes traced the world outside the window. Beau tried to explain his logic to the helpless females. “If I’m being dragged along on some crazy shopping trip, I’d at least like to know a few simple things. Like, is it for a baby boy or a baby girl?” His mom cleared her throat. “It’s for a boy. A sweet little boy.” Beau pushed the smoke away as his mom exhaled. It stung his eyes. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?” Vanessa said. “Nope,” Beau coughed, he didn’t care if he was being belligerent. “Why are you guys all together, who do you all know?” Holly snapped, "We all know you." “What’s that supposed to mean?” Beau asked. Oh, man. This deep thinking stuff hurt his brain. Okay. Maybe Holly knew about Christine, because Christine knew about Vanessa, and he was pretty sure Vanessa now knew about Christine. However, no one knew about what happened between him and Holly. That was a secret. A mistake. The mousy girl should know when it was her turn to keep her mouth shut like he told her. Beau clenched his fists until his knuckles popped. “You’ll find out soon enough,” Holly answered when she finally turned his way. The wood paneled station wagon pulled into the large gravel and dirt parking lot. The large and lonely store had more of a warehouse look than a home to retail. It sat like an empty island in the middle of nowhere. It was just a short drive from Lovington, but felt like a more different domain, and had a different feel about the whole thing. A long faded tarp was stretched across the front windows. A mainsail that billowed in the mild breeze that also kicked up a bit of dust. On the tarp was a handwritten message in what he guessed was shoe polish: Welcome to Webber’s Open at our new location Now with more influence Now with more inspiration However, the baby store was far from a ghost town. Dozens of workers in white overalls shuffled boxes around like drones with orders specifically from the queen. There was sawdust all around the door, he could even see the tell-tale signs of new construction from far away. Beau looked around at the chaos. "Is this place even open yet?" "It is by appointment," Holly commented as she opened the car door. She quickly caught onto his reluctance. "What? Are you afraid of going into a baby store? I thought you were some kind of tough guy." Beau shook his head. Stay ahead of this, and don’t let her get to you. "I'm not scared, it's just weird. What kind of bogus baby store needs an appointment to go buy diapers? Don’t babies use them all the time?” “Always on about the diapers,” Christine commented. “As if babies didn’t do anything besides pee and poop. Men are so clueless sometimes, am I right?” “Back off Christine,” Beau cracked. “I’m just trying to make conversation.” Vanessa was already outside of the car. "No need to get all defensive, baby Beau." That was it. They had challenged his masculine superiority, and if they started into this baby nonsense, they would never stop. He had to get ahead of this. Yeah, he was notoriously childish. Yeah, he was outnumbered. Yeah, the girls were acting kind of weird. Yeah, he was running out of yeahs. He'd overpower them with his powerful personality, let the 'Lover Boy' show. Well, not that ‘Lover Boy’. He'd get arrested for showing that off in this — empty parking lot. They were the only car there. No other customers, judging by the size of the building, for a huge department store. There were big moving trucks in the front, but those belonged to the workers. The same could be said about a small row of vans and sedans parked along the backside of the store. How had he just now noticed the empty lot? There was a cloudy feeling in his head. He tried to shake it off. He'd felt this way before, it felt like a hangover, but he hadn’t had anything to drink since wrecking the firebird. No. It reminded him of getting his ‘bell rung’ while playing football. Which was ‘coach speak’ for taking a bad shot to the helmet, which was bad news because his head was in there. A hard tackle could send his brain ricocheting inside his skull, resulting in subtle, temporary brain damage. The world would ring for a few minutes, or longer; and you were supposed to shake it off, not let it bother you, and battle the headache that sometimes lasted for days. That’s what it felt like, confusing, foggy headed, and hard to focus. Beau pulled at the inside handle of the car door, hoping the fresh air would alleviate all of this cloudiness. He pulled at the handle, and the door didn't move. He wiggled his hand to re-grip, and then he tried again. No. He roughly grabbed it with both hands and started violently shaking it back and forth. "You coming or not, Beau?" Holly leaned into the doorway from her side of the car. "It's just this fuc-, I mean this stupid door." He tempered his language for his angry mother, who was already working on her next cigarette outside. That habit was going to be her death, and maybe not soon enough. "You can always come out my side," Holly offered. "NO! I'm going through this. banging. door!" Beau knew he was being irrational, it was all irrational. His head felt hot as he strained against the unrelenting station wagon. He needed to show off his strength and beat this unopenable door, pop it open like a pickle jar for these women. That would get them to leave him alone. Christine waited just outside the car, watching his pathetic attempts through the window before figuring out the hold up, and opening the door from the outside. "That's the problem,” Christine observed. “It looks like the child lock was accidentally engaged. No need to throw a hissy fit, Beau." “It wasn’t a hissy fit,” Beau argued as he stepped outside and flipped his jacket collar. “Throwing a temper tantrum like a toddler, maybe Beau needs a timeout.” Vanessa giggled at her own joke. “Or he could use a spanking,” Christine added. Roll with the punches, Beau. Let them have their laughs, they were laughing with him, and not at him, right? There really wasn’t a difference, it’s what the dweebs told themselves to make themselves feel better about being dweebs. He calmed himself as the group set off towards the store. It wasn’t worth making a scene, he already made a fool of himself with the stupid door, with the stupid child lock. How had that thing been engaged? There hadn’t been a baby in the backseat in almost two decades, and Beau was an only child with no little cousins in the family tree. "You're going to want to behave yourself here," Holly warned as they all made their way across the dirt parking lot. "I've heard some strange stories about Elizabeth Webber. Also known as 'Ma'." "Like what?" Beau hurried to walk even with the smaller girl. "The first being that she's really into old school discipline, one of those grannies that still believes that humiliation is the best teacher." Holly actually sounded close to admiring this woman, Beau made it a point to steer clear of someone like she was describing. Mrs. Taylor whispered, "Maybe she can be the one to fix Beau." "What was that, mom?" Beau turned on his mother. "Do you think there's something wrong with me?" She didn't have to answer. He didn’t want to be the one to admit that his mom was right. There was something wrong with him. A dark part of him that did something wrong, that couldn't handle how wrong he went, and Beau knew it. That mistake with that mousy girl. Forever wiping the smile off her face every time she saw him. Being the 'Lover Boy' had its drawbacks. He couldn't hide behind the ultra-confident persona when Holly was around. Why was she even here? Why was he even here? He could just walk away, but he found his feet leading him to the store instead of the fledgling sunset. “And the second?” Beau’s curiosity was getting the better of him. “About ‘Ma’ Webber?” Holly pretended to be surprised. “Well, let’s just say if you act like a child, she'll treat you like one. So try to act your age for once.” Vanessa giggled. “Lay off the threatening, Holly. He’ll find out soon enough.” Beau asked, “Find out what?” “About the true meaning of diaper discipline,” Christine finished the conversation. Then she glared at Beau. He stopped with his mouth open, the girls didn’t really mean what they were saying. This had to be a prank, a way to mess with his head. And it was working. The girls continued inside while Beau hung around in the parking lot, going over the building one last time before joining them. The workers that hustled around him didn’t talk as they removed products from the backs of a pair of large white trucks, sometimes one at a time, for bigger things they worked in twos. He had to move to the side as two of the gruff men in faded white overalls and white hats pulled a huge car seat from the store, heading past him towards the parking lot. Beau stopped to watch the men struggle with big plastic safety-chair. Then he finally realized what the workers reminded him of, Oompa-Loompas. These guys were like a cross-breed between a biker gang and Oompa-Loompas. Except the little orange fellas sang as they worked, these guys only wore a scowl for their minimum wage. Still, the size of that carseat was something he couldn't get over. It looked like it could sit an adult, the various straps and buckles seemed thicker as well. It reminded him of a strait jacket, and it gave him the Heebie-jeebies. "Dude, did you guys catch the size of that carseat?" No one heard him. The girls were already inside, meeting Miss Elizabeth ‘Ma’ Webber, collecting a shopping list, and deciding how to best split the load. They had to get ready for a baby shower tonight.
  13. (Before anyone reads this, I think its only fair to warn you that there are 'dirtier' themes then you would normally find in an abdl story. I don't believe it breaks any site rules, but as I usually don't write like this, I may be mistaken and I apologize if so . )SMACK SMACK SMACK!The sissy squirmed as his bottom was spanked by his daddy. Tears were streaming down his face as he grasped tightly onto his teddy bear for comfort, and only his pacifier keeping him from calling out. His diaper was pulled down to his knees and his skirt lay on the ground, leaving his bare skin open to the harsh smacks. His daddy took his time, spanking him again and again until he was satisfied the sissy had learned his lesson.He stopped and rested his hand on the sissy's bright red bottom, feeling the new found warmth comming off of it."Now little Nathaniel, did you learn your lesson?"The sissy squrimed and looked at him through tear soaked eye lids. He didn't answer and kept suckling his pacifier, knowing the trick.His daddy patted his upturned bottom. "Good baby," he said. He removed the pacifier and asked again, "did you learn your lesson?""Yes daddy," he sniffed."What did you learn?""I learned not to deny to mommy or daddy that I'm a sissy baby.""Exactly right." He began absent mindedly stroking and patting the sissy boy's bottom, making him moan. "Now, remember when you came here. You played with your mommy, being her little baby, pretending to be a boy..."The sissy groaned and the word "pretending."The sissy's 'daddy' began speaking in an overly sweat, mocking tone. "But then she tried putting her baby in a skirt. She's told me how you whined and complained that you were a boy, and how you didn't want to do that... and how hard you became the second you were in pink. Remember?"He nodded."It wasn't long after until you were always in your pretty pink skirts, always a little sissy, and always loving it. But you still complained, didn't you? Were you a naughty little liar to your mommy?" He spanked him hard.Nathaniel yelped. "YES DADDY!""And whats more... I bet you never expected to be subby to a daddy, did you?""No daddy...""But the little sissy saw all the big strong men, and mommy saw how he stared... and it wasn't long until you were in the lap of your first male babysitter, crying in humiliation, and beging for more, wasn't it?" He spanked him again, and Nathaniel shouted."Yes Daddy!""And then you asked for something you never thought you would, to please a daddy, didn't you?"He blushed deeply. "Yes daddy.""Good baby. And yet it still seems you deny it sometimes, don't you? Like you did to mommy and me earlier?""Yes daddy.""Was that a lie? Was that a naughty little lie?" Another spank, another yelp.He nodded. "Yes daddy!""Then beg me for it. Beg to be a little sissy in pink dresses, bending over and kneeling down to please me. Tell me how much you love it.""Oh god daddy please no..."He spanked him, harder then before. "NOW!""OW! PLease daddy! I want to be a little sissy in pink dresses, bending and kneeling to please you! I love it I love it!""Good. Then I have a reward for my sissy. Stand up." He helped Nathaniel to his feet. He then reached over and pulled up the sissy's diaper, straigtening it out."Now. Pick up your skirt and put it on."He looked at the skirt and back at his daddy. "But... Daddy?" Normally he was forced into his fetish clothes, not asked to put them on himself."Do it yourself. If you want it, that is. I don't want any way for my little sissy to pretend we made him do it."Nathaniel glared, but reached down and pulled up the skirt.Nathaniel was now dressed head to toe in fetish wear. Almost everything he wore was pink and was designed to drive home his feminine and infantile state. Around his waist was a flouncing skirt that was short enough to leave his patterned diapers visible. Underneath it were long, pale stockings that went to his knees and were tied in bows, then Mary Jane shoes. Above it was a pink shirt he tucked into his skirt, a bonnet, and his pacifier. Though he was still clearly male, his hair had grown long, and the clothes were cut to fit his thin stature.Jordan, his 'daddy,' on the other hand, was far broader, and wearing only shorts and a t shirt. The contrast between the muscular sitting man and the thinner one in the skirt was clear.Jordan patted his lap. "Sit down sweetheart."Nathanil sat down gingerly, then whined and squirmed as he rested on his aching bottom."Oh hush up, your diapers are more then thick enough for cushioning," Jordan said. "Now, for your reward. And remember, you can stop this anytime you want"He picked up a bottle of white frothy liquid and brought it to Nathaniel's lips. Nathaniel looked at him suspiciously, then began to drink what he assumed was milk.A moment later Nathaniel gagged. "Keep drinking sweetheart," Jordan said sternly. "And yes, that is exactly what you think it is."Nathaniel whined but kept drinking. The bottle tip was thin, and the liquid came out slowly, forcing him to taste each drop."Like that? This was ordered online. I bet you didn't know they sold stuff like it, eh?" Jordan said. Nathaniel cringed and kept drinking. "It comes other doms and real men, intended for little sissies like you. I of course added my own, plus a little something to help you fill your diapers." Nathaniel groaned loadly at the last part, but kept drinking."I want you to know that this is your place. Look at you, a grown man dressed like a little girl in diapers, suckling a bottle in your daddy's lap. Longing to be in pretty pink skirts and getting taken care of and spanked. Pathetic. But you love it, don't you?"Nathaniel nodded between gulps. He squeezed his eyes shut and had to fight back gags from the salty taste."And now you're drinking this just because I told you to. We both know you hate the taste. We both know you could leave if you really wanted to. But we also both know that you won't, don't we? You love this more then anything?"Nathaniel didn't respond, and Jordan slowly reached down to his waste, lifted up his skirt and put a hand on the front of his diaper. Nathaniel gasped."Oh no? Sure seems like youre enjoying it." Nathaniel whimpered and pushed himself into his daddy's hand.Jordan laughed. "Oh ho look at you. Really loving it. Love the feeling of your pretty pink diapers, nice and soft against you?" He began rubbing it back in forth. Nathaniel didn't move. "Admit it, sissy. Admit you love it or I'll stop."Nathaniel nodded vigerously."Good baby."Nathaniel felt something poking the back of his diaper. He began rubbing it with his diaper almost instinctively, moving his bottom back and forth in his daddy's lap as he'd been taught to do.Jordan smiled. 'Very good baby."The bottle was almost done. Nathaniel still struggled to drink each drop, chocing and gagging at the taste."Keep going little one, almost there. Baby isn't going to be able to finish in his diaper unless he finishes his bottle!" He spoke in a high, teasing voice. "And remember, that is filled with a nice laxative, so finishing means your going to be in a VERY full and VERY stinky diaper soon, and we're going to keep you in it ALLLLLLL night. Sound fun?"Nathaniel whimpered and shook his head."Oh no?" Jordan pressed down on his diaper, and Nathaniel began nodding again. "Mmm hmm! Mmmm hmm!" he groaned, wordlessly begging for the punishment his daddy had promised."Now, you want to add something else to your pwetty widdle diapies?" Jordan asked."Mhmm!" "Finish the bottle and I might let you." He rubbed slower, keeping Nathaniel on the edge.Nathaniel sucked as hard as he could and tried to drink faster, resisting the urge to gag as he swallowed it all. Jordan kept rubbing him slowly, stopping when he felt him get to close.Finally the bottle was finished, and he moved it away."Oh god daddy!" Nathaniel shouted. "Please! Please let me!"Let you what? Let you be my little sissy forever? Let you please your daddy? Let you fill your little diapies?""Yes daddy please I want it all! To be your sissy, to please you, to fill my diapers!""Good. And you'll never play pretend at being a man again?""No daddy! Never! I'm not! I can't be!""Good. And you know that even though you're going to finsih in your diapers now, you'll still have to please your daddy, you'll still have to be a little diapered sissy, and you'll still spend the night in a messy diaper since when the fun is all gone?"Nathaniel was sobbing in desperation. "Yes daddy.""And you know this will prove how much you love being a little sissy in diapers, how much it turns you on, and how you only need to finish in your diapers from now on?"Tears streamed down his face. "Yes daddy!""Good baby. Then finish." He rubbed harder. Nathaniel gasped, convulsed, and lay shuddering on his lap.Jordan let him rest for a moment, smiling down at him. He then gently picked him up and cradled him in his lap. He began rocking him."Good baby. Good baby. Good sissy. You did well little one, you really did," he said in a soft voice.Nathaniel's eyes opened. "Daddy?" he said questioningly."Shhh..." Jordan said. "You were a good little sissy." He bent down and kissed Nathaniel on the forehead. He stroked his hair and back as Nathaniel became more and more awake. When Jordan was satisfied he was rested enough, he sat up straighter and hugged him. "Now, go rinse your mouth out," he said louder. "Then you'll come back and finish pleasing your daddy. When you're done, we'll give you a nice hot bath, and maybe some cookies if you're good, ok? How's that sound?"Nathaniel smiled. "Good, daddy.""Good, then go." He stood Nathaniel up, patted his bottom, and sent him on his way.
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