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Hi guys, i just wanna share my most recent journey. I didn't have any DL friend around for me to express the emotions upon situation that I've got into. I just want to ask for input. Any input that could be useful for me going forward. Recently I've been diagnosed with Slipped Disk (herniated spinal disk). It just happened. One day, i woke with sharp pain in my calf. It feels like the tendons were shredded with the knife. I just thought that it just a muscle cramp and do some stretching and move on. Being a blue collar worker, you learn it yourself to ignore kind of things like that. You only thought about what to bring to your table back home for your family, there is still someones depending on you. I still considering myself lucky since i still got my parents living with at my house. I Always thought that it was a blessing for me having them around me. The next day, the pain spread to the thighs and my face started to show that I've struggled to handle the pain. Ive managed to continue the day with some muscle patch and painkillers. The problem comes with notice, it's just me that decided to ignored it. I can't even lift my feet the next day. Even moving it a bit hurts like hell. Now, my back feels like someone been gouging it with pry bar and just left it like that. There is tear coming out my eye. I couldn't handle the pain anymore. I chuck some painkiller until i feels the pain lessen a bit. Started my car and head for the ER. The 10 mins drive feels like eternity. I don't know what kind of shot that I've get at the ER, it feels numb and and I've started to relax a bit. I got admitted to the hospital. Later got scanned and been told that my L4-L5-S1 spinal disk is slipped and surgery is needed. I've been informed by the doc about the possibility that could happen during and after surgery, unable to move your lower body, incontinence ect. I've acknowledge it all. Being a DL, i got no problem about that. After the surgery, the recovery went pretty well. Even though the hospital prepared some diaper for me during my almost 2 week recovery . I ordered 2 pack of lunar cub that I've always wanted to try and got it send to me at the hospital. It's always a new experienced that makes me feels excited but not in a sexual way. Sometimes, the nurses asked if i needed a change. Sometimes it's just changed, woke up to a fresh diaper for some reason. I declined the offer to get changed because i want to put on the lunar cub after showering. I Spread some baby powder inside the diaper, wears it myself and put on the hospital gown. As im walking around, i could hear the nurses 'i smell baby powder' i just ignore it and walk to the physio center. During the transdermal lazer session, the staff noticed that the diaper that im wearing is not the hospital issued and told me that he didn't knew that there's a sky blue diaper in the market it's looks thick too, nowadays newer diaper were thinner. I just told her that it's a new design and just wanted to try it. During the session lying down I wet the diaper 3-4 times and it all accumulated at front of the diaper. After the session, i walked back to my room and it crinkle all the way back. As soon as im there, i took my meds, drink lots of water and took some naps and wakes up hours later in a DRY DIAPER... MOTHERFK.... I got changed by the nurse and now she knew about the lunar cub obviously cuz i got changed to a fresh one. Suddenly the nurse get in my room to take my blood pressure, while smiling she says 'cute diaper'. My face redden and im stuttering either to thanks her or plead her to keep it as a secret. The told me that it's ok, there's nothing to be shy and scared for. She's already seen everything, she's know everything about me. That statement calms me down. She tells me that, It's hospital policy to use patient personal diaper if they brought them self, so it's not a problem. She jokingly tells me that it's kinda boring to see just plain white diaper anyway. She also remind me to not change the diaper in the shower/toilet due to falling risk and always asked the nurses for help. Now the problem is, couple days before i got discharged from the hospital i really lose my bladder control. I've consult my doctor and he reminds me about the possibility that could happen even after surgery. I accepted the condition and he asked to keep trying and don't lose spirit recovery is a long journey. He also tells me that he is always ready to help when help is needed. I actually Didn't know how to react. Being a DL, i love being in one, got no problem but the longest 24/7 I've been in a diaper is a week. Now, This could possibly be my entire life... I got no problem with people around me seeing me in a diaper. But could i handle it financially?..... Diaper are surely not cheap, especially one that could go for long hr I don't know..... Sometimes i just thought it was my karma... Lets just hope someday i could find a way Thanks for giving me a chance to banter around

Hey everyone, I have a bold idea. First, one of the things I love most from the bottom of my heart is RPGs. I love gacha games, I'm even a fan of Wuthering the Waves. I created an RPG system from scratch and I'm testing it. This is its story; the system is based on Fate. If you like role-playing and you like RPGs, I'm open to both. You can message me here or on my Discord. https://discord.gg/U5Dw7gTy 🎭 Scenario 1: "The New Nanny" Location: Isolated mansion in a gated community — modern architecture, tinted windows, walled garden with electric fence. The Dynamics: Both sides: the Amazon (hired) and the Little (heir to an ultra-rich family). The family traveled for 3 months. The Amazon is on an exchange program in Earth-000 and nobody knows except the Little's family, who are also Amazons (their daughter wasn't classified as a Little). The nanny was hired with explicit instructions: "do whatever is necessary to get him to accept the therapeutic regression program". The Conflict: The Amazon has full access to the house, credit cards, family contacts, and the parents' "carte blanche." The Little knows the house's secrets—secret passages, old security codes, blind cameras. The Amazon needs to produce measurable results (photos, videos, behavior reports) to keep her job. The Little needs to survive the 3 months without breaking down—or find a way out before then. Special Mechanic—"The Report": Each week of the game, the Amazon must submit a report. If the Little is too resistant, she loses credibility and may be replaced by someone worse. If he is too submissive... he loses. Character: 🧸 Little's Profile: Sofia Alencastro Viegas (19 years old) Concept: Spoiled heiress who always got what she wanted—until now. Description: Sofia grew up in a world of absolute privilege. Her parents, both high-ranking Amazons, always treated her as "special" and "too delicate for the adult world." When she turned 18, the diagnosis came: "Little with traits of resistance to authority." In truth, Sofia was never rebellious—she just never had to obey anyone. Now, locked in her own mansion with a nanny who has carte blanche, she is discovering that her money and status mean nothing within those walls. 👩‍⚕️ Amazon Profile: Camila "Camille" Ferreira (21 years old) Concept: Dedicated professional seeking a life-changing promotion. Description: Camila didn't come from a wealthy family. She studied, worked hard, and specialized at the best Little care institutes in the country. This job is her big chance—if she can "regress" Sofia Alencastro Viegas in 3 months, her name will circulate among the most powerful families. She's not evil, just ambitious... and genuinely believes the regression program can be good for the spoiled girl. The problem is that the instructions are vague: "anything necessary." Camila will have to figure out where to draw her own ethical line. If you like RPGs and cool stories, you'll love this! I'll start posting some of the sections soon. You can leave a comment, feedback, or criticism; anything is welcome.

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

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

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

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

Looking to do a plot where Chara the first fallen human gets taken in by the dreamer family and gets treated like their baby it can be a slow process or just straight off the bat it’s really depends Chara is a girl in this) Chara falls down further into Mount Ebott after tripping and falling into a hole, descending deeper as she sees a bed of golden flowers. It goes dark as she hits the patch of flowers. When she wakes up, her vision is blurry, but she can make out the silhouette of a white fluffy creature above her.

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

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

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

Pucker up more mommy 👄

Pucker up for momma!

Warning As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established 'Diaper Dimension.' These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Humiliation Female domination Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Experimentation on humans Kidnapping Coerced or manipulated actions through possible means of white lies, gas lighting, or incentives Mild language or use of explitives Depictions of death, illness, or handicaps Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings Depictions of non-consent and other forced actions of a sexual or other type of encounter Emasculation and feminization through various means and to differnt ends Degredation of human anatomy and mental status This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. Hey everyone! Welcome back and I hope everyone had as good of a break as I did! Work was stressful as usual these days, but it’s always nice to get away for a little bit from trying to meet my own personal deadlines, especially after such a large project as my last few stories were with some requiring all the completely new world-building and whatnot. Now, though, it’s just as equally good to be back and writing stories again. Unlike my previous story, due to how the system works here, I needed to be very precise in calculating everything out before I wrote a single word down. That being said, some of these chapters have proven to be temperamental and don’t quite make the page count I thought they were going to or are entirely too long for a single one. So, right now, the total chapter count stands at 27, but this is subject to change. Some of the later chapters are mapped out precisely as they are and won’t change, but some of the chapters in the middle may need to be altered or fleshed out to give more growth to these characters here. Which I guess is all to say that if the final tally of chapters changes at all, I will let you all know. Now, as much joy as I’ve derived from this story so far, I need to mention two caveats. First, I have based this story on a CYOA I found years ago. I’ve looked for the creator for at least five years now, but no such luck. I have also modified it for the story a little, but the concept is still there. Also, I should point out that because of some of the themes here, it will be a little coarser and more mature. I will try to give out warnings before some of the more intense scenes, but be warned, this one is not all fluffy diapers and pink princesses. Next, as is typical these days, I will post the next poll at the start of the following chapter. Looking ahead, I already know that this concept will be a one-off story, so there will not be a sequel in its future. With that in mind, the next poll will contain one DD story and two others that are a little more on the supernatural/spooky side. Because of this, I might try to put out more than three chapters a week and I might take a shorter break, but I think the stories are interesting enough on their own and plus, they have never been shown in one of my polls before. So, be on the lookout for all that next. Also, looking ahead, I’m absolutely tasking myself with writing/editing at least three chapters a week. That being said, with 27 current chapters and at least three a week, this will definitively bump into about mid-October, which means that I will be pausing at least at one point for a multi-day vacation. Once again, I’m headed down to Florida, but this time, it will be for some Halloween-themed events, so you just never know what twisted or fantastical tales I might come back with for new story ideas, so take comfort in the delay with the prospect of at least other future stories from me. Last but not least and as usual, I hope everyone enjoys this first chapter of my next story! Chapter 1: Starting Off, 35-01 Blindfold. Gag. My hands are behind my back and tied with something… rope, I think. The truck I saw for a brief second before getting hustled up into it has a rusty axel that’s connected to a suspension that bounces heavily each time that we hit a pothole or some other ungodly bump in the road. The sound of cars, machinery… even people… all that vanished at least three hours ago now. In the back of the canvas-drawn over truck, I can feel the intense heat rise all around me as each hour passes and the day creeps on. Thinking back, though, despite my current circumstances, I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised that this is where I ended up… but really, I just wanted a job again. * * * The suited man opens the door for me and gestures inside. I look and blink a few times at the sparseness of what I’m seeing inside the hole that is the room he is gesturing to. “You’re kidding, right?” The older gentleman glares at me from his at least six inches above me. “No. You want the help… you go inside. No questions asked and you follow the instructions… or you’re out. No exceptions.” I wince a little and even turn around to view the door I just came from. I recite over in my head how to make a quit exit in case I need to. ‘Three lefts, down one floor, and through the main lobby and the security there and then out the front doors.’ There, it would be freedom and the life I had… rather than a barren room of unknown before me. But I also know what’s out there waiting for me beyond those front doors. The world sucks for people in my position, and my pride went out the window the first time another bill came in without the funds to fully back even one or two more of them. Simply put… I’m desperate. So, with a deep plunging breath, I go forward into the room. Once inside, with a sigh, I sit in the far metal chair with my back to a mirror… likely a two-way like an interrogation room. I feel the hair stand up on my neck and a growl inside my stomach… warning me to run, but these people have me cornered with the prospect of opportunity. So, even as the main door closes to this little barren room, I can really only just sit there and squash my horrid feelings deep down. Now alone with my thoughts and trying not to assume or think the worst-case scenario, I look around the room and try and check if this is some trick or a test of some kind. ‘No… no hidden messages on the walls… no pen or paper. Not even a whisper of something I should be listening for.’ It’s just me and the singular metallic desk and two hard metal chairs… both cold and unfeeling as they slightly glint off the single overhead light that slightly pendulums back and forth. Gratefully though, not to long after, the door then reopens, and another suited man comes in with a manilla folder. His expression is mostly neutral but his taught features and cropped haircut reek of ex-military and no nonsense. I could immediately feel a tightness in my stomach, one which I try to will away as I shift slightly in the chair. The man then closes the door and sits down calmly and without even a single word back to me before opening the folder out flat on the table. I immediately notice my photo on the upper right holding on by a single paperclip. “State your name for the record,” he commands, taking out a black-cased pen from the inside of his suit jacket. I swallow hard and wish more than anything that a glass of water would have been right there in front of me in that moment. “Jack… Thomas.” The man pauses and looks up at me with a hint of a hateful and annoyed glared in his eyes. “Your full name, Mr. Thomas.” I hesitate for a moment, hating my middle name… always have, but the man keeps staring at me. Maybe if the room was pastel blue and I hadn’t been frisked on my way in, I might have asked a simple ‘why,’ but my present circumstances tell me that any perceived ‘backtalk’ or questioning would be unwise. “Jack… Marie Thomas.” I can’t help but say my middle name with a slight distaste in my mouth. ‘Stupid family name…’ As typically happens, as I say it out loud, despite likely knowing it beforehand and just confirming my identity, even the stern man before me seems to find my middle name amusing… Ultimately though, he says nothing about it. He then uses his pen to go through several more verifications of my identity… social security, gender, age. All typical for someone trying to confirm I am who I say I am. Working for the government before, all that at least doesn’t faze me. But then comes the questions afterward. At first, they seem pretty normal for someone in my situation… like how long I have been unemployed, or, what my financial situation looks like, but then they start to veer towards the realm of being highly uncomfortable as why they would even need to be asked in the first place. Questions like, “Do you have heart troubles?” or “Do you have any family that miss you if you were absent?” are among the more particularly alarming. Finally, after he asks me if I’ve ‘had any surgeries,’ I can’t take it any longer. “Okay!” I shout, standing up and forcing my chair backward toward the likely two-way mirror. “No more questions! I’ve answered everything from my size to sexual preference to even if I have any allergies to medications or latex! What the hell does that have anything to do with finding a job?” The suited man glares at me and calmly stands up, towering over me. “Sit down, Mr. Thomas. These are all vital questions, I assure you… and we’re almost done.” His calm presence slightly infuriates me and only adds to my already-present anger. “Sit down? That’s all?” I smack the table. “Screw this, mister! I’m getting out of here right this second!” I march toward the door, but as my hand touches the doorknob, the man speaks up once more. “Mr. Thomas… Jack.” He calmly walks over to me and stands right up against my left side, staring down at me… not with rage or annoyance, but almost a calm passivity of a parent to a child. It more than halts my efforts in leaving right away. “You will find no locks on these doors or any others in this building toward the exit. You are free to go anytime you please...” Determined and still disturbed, my hand turns the knob. “Well, then. I’m getting the hell out of…” “But I encourage you to stay,” he says resolutely in a way that stops my hand cold… almost like he knows something I don’t. He then walks back over to the desk and retrieves my file before switching it to one of the pages on the left side. “It says here you’ve been out of a job for about a month now, which you also just confirmed for me. I’ll stop the questions, but… let’s talk about that for a second.” He pauses briefly. “Promise. Nothing more.” I hesitate to move back to the table, but I at least remove my hand from the doorknob and reface him. If nothing else, he seems happy about that. “Good. Now, come back to the table and sit down. Or stand… I just want to lay out your options here, Mr. Thomas.” I grumble and nearly leave on the spot, but there’s an odd quality about this man that makes me stay. I don’t know what it is, but that intangible quality eases me up a little. So, at least curious now, I walk back over to my chair… but I don’t sit down. “Very good, Mr. Thomas.” He calmly flips through several pages in my file. “So, again… you were laid off from your job about a month ago, correct?” “Correct,” I confirm, feeling a little deflated at admitting that. “I knew it was coming though. I’ve been working part-time for almost eight months now. Budget cuts and all…” The suited man nods. “Yes. The economy isn’t doing wonders at the moment and there have been several cuts to federal programs. Seems like your program was hit but you managed to linger on… at least until last month.” “Yes,” I admit, my ego deflating even more. “And from your earlier confirmation and from what it says from the application you filled out online that you’ve been looking for a job since then?” he asks before looking up at me. “But nothing since?” I shake my head. “Nothing serious. Small positions. Some part-time work I’m looking at in the meantime, but… I need something more. You can’t live in this area without something steady anymore.” “Yes…” The suited man’s eyes nearly seem to glow with opportunity, happiness, and another quality underneath that would amount to something nearly sinister. I focus on that last bit. “I see all that on your file here. Some college debts remaining… ouch on those, but a car payment… three years from paying off, and…” He looks back up at me and squints his eyes. “No savings?” I shake my head, and I feel I can’t sink any lower now in this room, sitting in the chair in a slump of built-up defeat before this mysterious figure… a deflated and defeated individual. “No… I have some savings, but… the form asked if I had less than $1000 in savings… which I do. So, yes, some saving, but not enough to check off the box indicating something higher.” “I see… so practically nothing and you’re living on fumes now as well…” He doesn’t wait for me to respond as my silence does plenty of talking alone. “So, you see, Mr. Thomas… when I ask you these questions… I know they may be intrusive, but honestly, this is for a government position and what amounts to an ultimate handout. With the economy and layoffs recently, I’m sure you can understand that we have many candidates in search of work or money these days.” He lets his points hang in the air for a moment, each one a painful reminder of my desperation and how close I am to failing completely. I wished I could say I had backups or a plan to bail me out, but that would be a lie. My parents are far away and broke themselves after sinking their money into some long-term investment. My brother is too busy with his wife and a new kid on the way… and we aren’t even that close. And friends? Well, I’m not exactly a social butterfly and the loss of my job hasn’t helped with that any in finding new ones. The suited man has me cornered and while the door is unlocked… it might as well be a safe door as far as I’m concerned for leaving through it now. Despite my apprehension, I know that this is one of the few chances I have to get out of the hole I’m digging myself further into every day. And terribly, the suited man knows it. His underlying smile, so subtle as to almost even be unseen, ripples along and emphasizes my desperation and his next question. “So… may I continue?” Submissive to his whims and with the knowledge that I have nowhere else to turn, I merely nod my head. He smiles, but this time his glee is obvious over my compliance with what he wants. “Excellent. Now,” he flips another page from the right side of my file, “do you have any fetishes… sexual deviancies? I really try not to judge… Purely for the record.” An hour later I’m back out on the street in Washington D.C. It’s been my home for years now, but lately it’s felt more like a self-contained prison. Each Brutalist building contrasts heavily with the Greek Revival ones, but each seems like a slap in my face now as I pass by them. ‘That’s where I used to work…’ is my constant theme these days, and each day that passes without a solid job, those words feel more distant. So, in an attempt to blur my lines of what is real and what is crushing, I head to the nearest bar I can remember. It’s a small little thing and usually a pretty quiet behind the Archives building… mostly a place for stuffy politicians or glassy eye curators. For me, though, I just order a beer and sigh as I look down into it and the bubbles fizzing up from the bottom. It’s a small distraction, but it still work its magic and let’s me forget for a second… “Pretty shit, huh?” the bartender asks out loud, catching me off guard. I look up with bleary eyes and squint back at him as he polishes off another glass with his dish towel. “Huh?” He gestures to the nearby small TV, almost looking at odds with the rest of the older style bar in the district. Still, unlike most others in the city, it displays the news instead of sports. Most newcomers request to change it, but that’s not what this place is about, and they’re always shot down. In this place, it’s all about governmental policy and change. So, when I look up at the TV and see yet another news report, it’s not surprising, but the headline opens my eyes more than I care to admit. “Government eases testing standards for new programs.” It could be worse, especially in the modern climate, but still… it makes me wonder. “Hard to believe. Maybe chickens won’t be tested as well or something. Saving a buck or two, I guess…” I shrug, not really knowing the answers and not being surprised by most anything on the news anymore. The bartender eyes a nearby chicken sandwich with more than a little unease but ultimately collects it and comes back. “Maybe, but… ready for another round tonight?” He gestures at the once full beer in my hands currently. I sigh and stare at my nearly empty glass. I want another, but ultimately, I shake my head. “No, would love to but…” I don’t finish my thoughts and simply pull out my only 20-dollar bill and hand it over. From the change I get back, I am sure to still leave a decent tip. I might be screwed these days, but I just can’t find it in myself to tip poorly. I walk back to my apartment rather than taking the metro. It saves me a little money, and the walking feels good… despite the fact that the weather is unseasonably warm for this time of year. It especially doesn’t help as I make my way up the flight of stairs and to my actual apartment. Little beads of sweat are already pouring from my forehead as my keys turn to my barebones living space. With my previous job, I was never here much before, so I never felt the need for more. Now though, especially as I immediately go back to job hunting and checking my email, it feels especially lonely. Tonight however, while I’m looking through my emails, I see what I’ve been looking for now for a month. The newest email in my inbox blinks and is all in bold. “Your application has been accepted.” It’s all I can do to keep myself from jumping up and down in joy after reading the header of the fresh and beautiful email message. “Yes! Finally!” I briefly stifle my joy and check out the job… just in case of spam. To my utter relief, it seems all legitimate. So, not wasting a second, I quickly reply back to set up an interview. My hand nearly shakes the whole time I’m writing the email back to them. I can feel the electricity of the potential in the moment. It feels like… freedom… opportunity. Once I hit send though, I allow the waves of euphoria to fully pour through me. I’m electric… thrilled… jubilant. I jump up and after even do a little dance before snapping my fingers. “This calls for a celebration!” So, once more, I grab my keys and head out my door to the nearest convenience store. It’s small and a little dingy around the back, but they have a great selection of chips and ice cream… perfect for a little late night snack celebration. I almost go for chocolate and cherry, but considering the heat and the occasion though, I grab my favorite flavor of chocolate and peanut butter. It feels so good to clutch that pint of cold deliciousness in my hand and I even whistle slightly as I checkout. “Man, I wish I could be that happy about something,” the store owner tells me. “Oh, it feels great,” I acknowledge. “Just got a job application back and I’m waiting to set up an interview. I can honestly say that it’s the best news I’ve had in a month.” The store owner’s eyes light up and he smiles wide. “Congratulations, sir! Best of luck to you on that,” he says, handing me the receipt with nearly a bounce in his words now. Most people know the horrible state of the economy and the huge numbers of joblessness. An interview was always great before, but these days… it’s an even bigger deal. I smile even wider and take my receipt. “Thank you! I really think things are just about to turn the corner for me…” I then exit the store and head back to my apartment. I’m humming along the darkened street… a few lights out from the lack of maintenance. Crime is up in the area, but my apartment isn’t far, and I almost have developed sixth sense about these things by now. But I’m happy. That wouldn’t be a problem normally, but I’m nearly in bliss. There’s something so alluring and free about the prospect of an interview for me. It’s a light at the end of the tunnel and a beacon of hope I can turn toward through the rough storms that is my life at the moment. It should all be grand. I’m even whistling a bit once again and focusing just on what is in front of me. I’m distracted. I don’t hear the crack of a twig on the sidewalk behind me like I normally would. I don’t pay attention to the rubber turning on the pavement off to the side or the deft footsteps on the alleyway down on my left. I’m oblivious to all other things other than my own happiness that yes, I’ve turned the corner in life. Yes, most absolutely, things will be different. Turns out… just not in the way that I wanted. The personnel that surround me are very quick. Professional, burly, and imposing masked figures. They bear no insignia, and I can’t make anything out of them except their maybe six inches to a foot in height and maybe 30 pounds of muscle over me at least. One gets me from behind and places their hand over my mouth with some kind of cloth. Two go for my arms quickly after and lock me into place. The fourth goes for my legs in a vice-like grip. I can’t move and I’m being hauled away… right down the darkened alleyway and into a van. I try to scream. I try to flail around… but it’s useless. I’m useless. I’m packed into the black van in seconds, and I hear the side sliding door crunch over on its tracks and then slam shut before the vehicle lurches away. I barely move with how I’m still being held. No voices around me. Just hand signals and quick and efficient meaty hands that go to work around me. I’m locked in and I can’t do anything about it. Darkness starts to envelop me. The van is dark and curtains black out most of the light, but quickly, I know with terrifying horror that this is something more. My limbs become heavy. The fight inside me begins to fade whether I wish for it or not. I want to kill these people… at least scratch or beat them senselessly and flee back into the night and up to the relative safety of my apartment. But those are the actionable desires of someone fully conscious. Simply put, that isn’t me anymore. A hand is still over my mouth. Though the edges of my world begin to blur, I still smell something chemical in front of me. ‘The white rag covering my mouth and nose must be laced with something.’ There’s no other rational explanation for how I’m feeling right now. It’s a terrible sinking feeling in my gut. But it doesn’t matter. The figure that was once holding my legs now comes over to me, and while the van is still mostly black, a flash of light streams in from the front and highlights the metallic cylinder precariously balanced in their hands. The needle at the tip almost seems to sparkle and drip with something magical and yet unwanted. I’m not a genius, but it doesn’t take one to realize what is about to happen. With my last efforts of strength, I thrash about. But again, I’m useless. Before, it was the locked position of the personnel holding and pinning me in place. Now, I feel their grip is still locked but now significantly loosened. If anything, my efforts against them come off as simply pathetic. So, whether I wish it or not, the person takes advantage of my uselessness and weakness and comes forward. Before I can even attempt to scream out, he quickly jabs the needle right into my arm. It burns heavily and I wince and try to scream in pain as it plunges deep. But again, I’m useless. I’m powerless to stop anything, and worse… the blackness, at first creeping, now surges forward around my vision like a crashing wave. Now, there is nothing more. I feel nothing. I am nothing. * * * The bumps that jostled me awake earlier are no less smooth now than they were previously from what had to be at least three hours ago. I have to pee something fierce but the truck I’m bound, gagged, and blindfolded in has shown no signs of stopping. Occasionally, I hear something on the radio or hushed whispers, but that’s about it. I could forgive anyone from thinking that it meant I didn’t know anything. True, I couldn’t hear or really touch anything, but my other senses were ever more focused. I had watched a documentary last year about a woman who fled her kidnapper and because she remembered the sound of a train going by not long before the car she was in stopped, the police were able to later apprehend her kidnapper. So, drawing at least a few parallels between our situations, as soon as I had come to my senses, I tried to figure out anything I could in this less-than-ideal situation. The road was rough and bumpy. As I noted before, it’s what jostled me awake after I had passed out in D.C., but that was another prominent thing. Also, yes, it was summer in D.C., and the old swamp area was particularly humid, but now… it is still hot around me, but more of a dry heat. I feel the sweat accumulate slightly around my body in the back of the truck… likely poorly ventilated and maybe even open to the outside in places. I’m not entirely sure about that, but the heat and lack of humidity tell me that I’m nowhere near to where I live. Potentially problematic, yes, but also telling. Loving to travel, I’ve been to most of the surrounding states near D.C., and what’s absolutely certain, nowhere right now is receiving dry heat as their weather forecast right now. It’s either something akin to the swamps of Satan or the near drownings of a wretched batch of storms in the areas… not this. So, I begin to check off in my mind where I could be. ‘Definitely west of the Appalachian Mountains… but no cold or extreme breezes of the Rockies… plus maybe too far. Back roads definitely… so not near a city. No traffic lights either, since we haven’t stopped once, so that kills a lot of places as well. Figure a straight drive since last night and the amount of heat… intense and not boiling but growing… means early or midday… but that also would only place me somewhere along just east of the Mississippi longitude from when I was kidnapped last night to now.’ I paused and winced. ‘No… that’s not right, so… crap. Was I out for a whole day already? My bladder… shit. I’m even further west. Maybe a full day then… Still a big area though. Doesn’t narrow it down too much, but it’s something.’ I hope I’m wrong in most of that in a way, since going to a barren area hardly ever spelled something good, but considering I was kidnapped already… my luck doesn’t seem that good. The truck bounces me about a few more times and my need to pee is near to the bursting point. I try thinking about almost anything else, but that’s proving an issue. Between my hunger, my bladder, and my confinement, I nearly feel bugs crawling over my skin in a near phantom itch to move… to run. Just… anything more than this. I try to speak, but the gag prevents anything but a muffled sound emitting instead of the pleas to let me go or at least let me move around that I truly intend. It does attract the attention of my kidnappers though… “Hey, you!” a gruff voice nearly growls at me. “Cut that out. We’re almost there, so just sit tight. We can’t hurt you, but we can make your last moments out here very miserable.” I feel a hand shove me slightly back. “So… what’s it going to be? Stay calm or are we going to have to get… creative?” I sense his threat is exactly that. There was no hesitation or even any signs of a bluff on his part. This man, whoever he is, seems to have both done this before and be pretty okay with it and whatever else was necessary in his role to subdue me. So, weighing my options, considering my current state of being trapped, mute, and blind… I settle down and don’t say a word. The man chuckles. “Good boy. Maybe there’s hope for you yet…” His words do nothing to help the already pent-up and dreading feeling I had since I had been taken. Still, despite his gruffness and threats to use possibly violence or torture or some other nasty thing against me, the man was at least telling the truth that we would soon arrive. The van quickly lurches to a stop. A few shuffling noises later, my blindfold is finally removed. I have to blink a few seconds as the light streams all around me from the windows in the front and the back. I find it strange that the van is so open like that now as compared to last night with the curtains on the windows, but the figures in front of my vision fully distract me from any further thoughts on the matter. Masked and geared to the hilt, they exude an ex-military vibe that I often saw in my previous job when dealing with mercenaries and security personnel we contracted out for our safety sometimes. Not saying a word, the lead man then points out the door that is soon opened. More light floods in and I look back to the man who gestured to the door for more answers. I’m not sure why he isn’t just using his words, but at this point, I remember the veiled threat before. Whatever this is, I absolutely don’t want to make it uncomfortable… or at least more so than it already is. The man simply waves his hand at me out the door. I take his meaning this time to exit the vehicle. I’m still gagged, and my hands are bound together tightly… uncomfortably at this point, but again, I don’t want to cause any more problems for myself. Simply put… between the dry heat, the backroads, lack of traffic lights, and the amount of time it took to get here and stop, I don’t like my chances of escape. Terrifyingly, my suspicions are confirmed when I exit the vehicle. Desert… or at least at best a barren wasteland of dried-up prairies stretches for what seems like miles in all directions. Hazy mountains flank to the west, and to the east… nothing. I think I see a shimmering glint of maybe a tower… a fence… something, but definitely not civilization. If anything, even those signs of something else seem to reinforce the barrenness of where I’m currently standing. Another masked and geared man comes up to me and holds up a tablet of sorts near my head before glaring right at me. “Confirm… Jack Maria Thomas,” he directs right as another man removes the gag from my mouth from behind. I smack my mouth together a few times in an effort to remove the nasty threads left on my tongue. I can already feel the dryness of a lack of water from all that time, but I also see the masked man’s eyes. Sharp, focused… full of duty, sternness, and no-nonsense. I saw the same in the other man and I know not to screw around, but I know I need to try. “Please… just let me go and…” “Confirm,” he presses again, this time with a small amount of anger behind his voice and one of his fingers seemingly itching toward the stock of the gun he’s carrying as well. I swallow hard at the scene, and I nod as fast as I can. “Yes… that’s me.” I take a breath. “But what…?” “Silence.” His voice isn’t annoyed, angry, or even shrill like I might has expected. Just more to the point and focused on the task he seemingly has to perform. To me, it seems we both have our roles to fill… ‘Definitely not the overall leader of this thing.’ The man taps a few more things on the tablet before him, before strangely looking dismayed. I almost question him, but with everything going on around me, my thoughts bounce from one subject to the next and his looks take a momentary backseat. My vision moves from the desert landscape to the horizon line, to the distant mountains, to the men with guns… and then even to what I am currently wearing. Before, back in D.C., I was still wearing the suit I had worn to the interview earlier in the day. I had removed the suit jacket once I got home, but the button-up shirt and pants were definitely still attached to me. Now, they’re gone and in their place is a faded green prison jumpsuit of sorts. I swallow hard at the implications… Finally looking up from his tablet, the man looks at me once more. “Okay… here’s your situation. In a moment, you’re going to a bunker of sorts. You will be there for one year, and at the end… you’ll get a substantial payout for your services.” I frown back at him in confusion, but I keep my mouth shut, my eyes still drifting to the rifle attached to his body. ‘Definitely not where I thought this was going…’ “I see you have questions,” the man notes, stepping closer to me, “but they will have to wait. We need to do two things right now. First, know there are only three ways out of this.” He holds up one finger. “First… quit. You do that and all the money reserved for you at the end will be forfeited, and you will receive no government assistance of any kind afterward.” He holds up a second finger. “Two… flee. You try to escape, and…” He pivots over and points to the shiny point at the distance I had seen earlier. “You see that?” I quickly nod. “Good. That’s a watch tower. They’re all around you,” he notes menacingly as he gestures in a circle around where we’re standing before he rests his hand on his large gun. “They have guns just like this one… or even much larger. You escape; they have the option to shoot you on sight. You survive; you go back and incur a penalty… a harsh one.” He glares at me. “I wouldn’t suggest that route.” I wince but note internally that there’s still one more option. “And third?” I ask hesitantly, the first two options seeming truly terrible and hoping beyond measure that somehow the third would be more reasonable. “Third…” He smirks down at me, his few inches of height over me seemingly a lot more in our current roles. “Well, third is that you finish the year here. It might seem like a burden and impossible in the days ahead, but considering the others, I would still recommend option three.” Again, I quickly nodded. Another person, feistier and more combative might have fought, but that wasn’t me. I was trying to use my head, and simply put, I saw my options and the remoteness of where I was. Fight, escape, and flee, but to where? Out here, even if I managed to avoid the towers with big guns, my survival out here wouldn’t be guaranteed in the slightest. So, as much as a little voice inside my head was telling me to, my instincts told me as plain as day that fighting back would be pointless… foolhardy at best. “Very good. Maybe there’s hope for you after all…” He smirks and turns back to his tablet before holding it back up to me. “Now then… in you go…” I blink back at the man and look around. “Go? Go where?” The man points nearby and while I have to squint my eyes to see it, only about thirty yards away is what amounts to a slit in the ground. Only about 20 feet long, I see the ground plunges inward and leads to a submerged door right under the surface of the soil above. All of it concrete… devoid of emotion… uninviting. I feel a cold splinter of fear enter my heart. “Wha… what’s down there?” I ask, a weakness and subsequent trembling sensation beginning to take over my limbs as the true measure of my situation begins to unfold before my eyes. “That…” the man noted smugly. “That… is your new home for the next year… or at least the entrance to it.” He pauses for a minute, but me still not budging, the man then scowls back at me and raises his rifle barrel to my chest. “Now… I said to move. Or are you going to be giving us a problem already?” I see his rifle. I see the desperation of my situation being stuck in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by towers that had ‘shoot on sight’ orders. It was horrible, but it was that or the unfeeling bunker-like entrance now before me. Underground and heavy duty… there now seemed to be a permanence to my situation that I hadn’t felt before. I didn’t want to go down there. That’s for sure. I had read and heard about these things before… down there meant torture or death or imprisonment. I would be lucky to ever see the sun again. But… the gun in the hands of a scowling and tough ex-military masked figure before me presents an unmistakable choice, death or compliance. Unlike the previous man in the van before, the one in front of me had made no such promises of not hurting me. Somehow, the van ride now felt like the preliminary phase of all this, but now that I was here, the stakes of it all… the reality and actual event seem to be at my feet now. I didn’t like it… but I knew my options… and their limits. So, I meekly raise my still-bound hands as best to surrender and walk over to the entrance… no fight… no protest… Again, despite him still aiming his gun center-point at my chest, he smiles and soon follows me over to the slit in the ground that is to be my ‘home’ for the next year. Stopping right before the steps to the door, I turn around and hold my bound wrists up. “Can I… well, can I at least be free before I go down?” I try to widen my eyes and seem as desperate as possible. I want to stay strong, but I felt there was a wide gap between entering the creepy bunker with my hands bound versus them free. So, I had to try at least. There’s a grumble and an annoyance from my masked captors, but the main leader nods his head to one of the other men behind me. This new masked man comes at me hard and quickly flicks out a long knife from one of his chest pockets. It shines underneath the desert sun; glinting and deadly. I wince and shut my eyes… painfully aware that I’ve likely lost the protection that was once promised to me before. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, with everything going on, I’m no longer taking anything for granted… not even my safety or my life. But the man only ambles over, roughly takes my wrists, and cuts the rope that was binding them together. I open my eyes and see my now free wrists. “Thank you…” I muster out. The man only grunts and turns away… leaving the leader to point his gun once more at me. “Alright… you’re free. Now, down you go.” Again, his actions are clear, and his gun speaks the volumes that he doesn’t. It says threat and deadly force is now authorized on my hide. It says this is serious business and whatever awaits me in the hole, in case I already knew what was happening, isn’t going to be much better… or at least to the point where they would need to threaten me with entering or face down death itself. I rationalize that most things are better than death and then place my foot on the first step going down. My knees wobble as I turn around full now and head down the stairs. The morning sun begins to arc overhead and fill the hole with light, showing off all the dust floating around in such a barren climate. I see the door ahead of me… it’s shine in stark contrast to the rusted stains on the concrete around it… almost like the place had recently been repurposed… like I was the first guest to come here in years and precautions to keep me in needed to be upgraded. Seeing all that, my hands tremble as they reach out to the large wheel to open the door before me now. But, just in case, I turn around and look one last time at the leader. “I…” I don’t get to finish my thought… my counter to all this, hoping to plead one more time to leave. Instead, the man points his gun at me, but this time… he also makes sure to place his eye along the top rail of the gun, aiming at me with deadly precision. His new actions are clear to me now. Get into this bunker-like structure underground now and be a smear against the door instead. With such an ultimatum, I snap back to the door. I reach out with both hands this time and turn the wheel. It creaks and moans in an awfully hellish way like I am about to enter the very bowels and devilry of the earth. My stomach drops more, and I feel a single bead of sweat perspire on my forehead as the wheel finally budges. It turns and turns some more… the door finally opening. Inside is just another set of stairs downward. Darkness enshrouds more than a few feet, and I hesitate, but my ears pick up the faintest clicking noise. With my last job and growing up with a few who took me to a shooting range, I knew that sound… it was a gun loading its ammo… the weapon aligning with the bullet. Next stop, my head… my body. I have no choice. I don’t even turn around this time to plead to be let go or question a thing. I simply walk forward to my fate, sheer blinding light behind me and nothing but cold concrete and darkness before me. I swallow hard and give myself over to be swallowed by the earth and whatever this place is. Fully in, the door slams behind me. To my relief a few lights flicker on ahead of me. The stairs don’t descend as far as I originally thought but the ominous cramped feeling of all this place gives me a terrible case of claustrophobia. I immediately want out, but a quick turn of my head only reveals a thoroughly shut door behind me… and no handle or even a wheel to let myself out even if I chose that option and forfeited the end prize. Now, whether I want it or not, I’m truly trapped. Suddenly, a speaker overhead crackles to life. The sound coming from it takes a second to synch and come in as more than static, but even in the old-fashioned clicks and echoes of a speaker system at least thirty years old now sounds like, the words are very clear. “Keep moving.” I don’t know why, but I merely nod my head in compliance. I can’t go back. The sealed door and lack of egress proves that at least ten times over in my head. I can only go forward, and now with the lights… it’s not just wandering around blindly in the dark. It’s a concession for sure as to how far I’ve fallen into this terrible plot seemingly against me, but again… I feel I have no choice, or at least not a real one... Wandering down the staircase, holding onto the rail the entire time, I eventually come to a landing zone of sorts before another door. The speaker in front of me this time crackles once more. “Scan your hand on the pad in front of you.” I look and that beyond the grungy metal fittings and the leaking concrete in places, there is a brand-new electronic system… right next to where there is a large pad. It blinks a few times and then stops. Looking around, I don’t see any traps, so, I sigh and place my hand on the pad as instructed. The pad hums and blinks a few times before turning green. “Excellent,” the voice behind the speaker says once more. “You may proceed inside.” A hiss follows and the large metallic door before me opens wide. “Step in,” the voice calls out overhead. Not wanting to stay any longer in the hallway than I need to, I step inside… only to wish I saw just about anything else. Inside is only what I could describe as a jail cell. A simple plastic-like faded green bed has been shoved against one wall. The most basic metallic and uninviting toilet and sink are against another. A barred door is at the other end and as if I didn’t remember for whatever reason, the other door behind me slams and hisses close. Curiously, as I turn back, I am only greeted by a flat wall with a single seem around the edges of where the door had opened up. It’s all cold, barren, and unfeeling… except the electronic device in the corner of the room. Compared to everything else, it seems out of place. Not much larger than an oversized notebook, it blinks to life, and a single plain computerized image of a person appears. “Come here,” the voice from before says without emotion, now sounding more like a computer recording than an actual human being. I step forward cautiously and for whatever reason, I wave at the thing. “Hello?” “Greetings… candidate 35-01.” Again, the voice grates and there’s almost a synthetic whine behind it as well. “Please confirm identity and place hand on screen where indicated.” Like before, I see the blinking panel just to the left of the computerized plain head staring back at me. I sigh and place my hand where instructed. “Jack Marie Thomas.” I was starting to get annoyed at having to say my name… particularly my middle name, so often. A ping goes off and the voice returns. “Welcome, 35-01… Mr. Thomas. You have been selected by the government from a contest of over a thousand candidates to participate in a year long study and observation, known to authorities as ‘Operation Hebe.’ During this time, you will be required to make certain selections in order to facilitate your life… benefits or consequences.” The screen then changes to a counter, but to my dismay it starts simply at 100 and then counts down to only 5. “These are your starting points. As you will see, think of these as a money system of sorts. The more you have, the more you can obtain. All candidates are assigned what you will find labeled as the ‘jail cell.’ You may opt out of this at any time but know that your points can never equal less than zero. Answer, ‘acknowledge’ that you understand this.” Seeing the numbers count down to only 5 quickly gives me an uneasy feeling in all this. I feel queasy… faint and dizzy too. I nearly fall over right then, but I place one hand against the wall at the last second and take a deep breath. “Acknowledge.” The words feel like poison over my tongue, but I don’t see many other ways out. “Recorded.” The screen then flickers briefly and then changes to a large screen with several labels on it. Even in my brief look before it flashes away, I see two labels… listed as ‘Makeup’ and ‘Owners.’ “What the fu…?” “Please, 35-01,” the electronic and mostly faceless voice interrupted. “Look through these first few categories that are mandatory. We will give you some time to choose as we know this may be a shock to your system, but your non-compliance will be met with punishment.” The screen flashes back to the selection options. ‘Makeup’ and ‘Owners’ appears, but so do others before the screen switches once again to one labeled at the top as ‘Medicine Effects at 6 Months.’ My eyes instantly widen in shock at the options… particularly with the flashing ‘Selection of One Mandatory’ sign near the top, highlighted all in red. “Hair growth? Incontinence? Penis shrinkage? IQ drop?” I yell out at the screen to where I once saw the lifeless computerized head of the only voice I had been hearing down here. “What the hell is this place?” I smack the bars next to the screen, but there is no response. It’s just me here… me alone with these horrid options. Me alone in a self-described ‘jail cell.’ Me alone after being kidnapped and now confirmed to be part of the government. I slump on the bed in realization of everything clicking together. “The government… the interview I did…” Me, the homeless, ex-government employee walked right into this trap. I wanted a job, and now… for the next year, I seemed to have one. My mind swirled, but it didn’t last long. “35-01. Please make your choice. You now have one hour to make your choices… or suffer the subsequent punishments,” it calls out, its electronics seeming fragile in this state as it droned on. I look over at the still-flashing screen and the selection I have to make. Considering the methods that were employed to get me here… the guns… the towers… the desert… even the bunker I was now in. It all leads me to the same conclusion… punishments mean business here and finding out what they were was ill-advisable to say the least. I sigh and stand up. “Fuck… this is going to be a very bad year…”

Stripped Down to Little by Ergo This is a soft, sissy ABDL story with 2,700 words. This is a work of fiction based on personal experiences, depicting consensual activities between adults. Afternoon rain tapped on the window of our apartment as my girlfriend and I laid on the couch. My dissertation loomed in the back of my mind as I glazed through fodder on YouTube. I had been scrolling for over a minute when my girlfriend spoke up, "Let's play strip blackjack." I stopped scrolling and laughed. I asked, "That's the one where we bet our clothes, yeah? The loser for each round removes some clothing?" "You got it," she said. Her grin held a spark of mischief that made my heart skip a beat. It was a great idea. I had gotten sick of scrolling on YouTube. Plus, these games were a fun way to warm up for the evening. "Sure! I'll grab the cards." We went into our bedroom and flattened our comforter into a makeshift playing field. "We'll alternate the dealer. I'll go first," I said. My girlfriend nodded and I shuffled the cards. Our rounds were quick and decisive. We both knew what we were doing, but the cards were not in my favor that afternoon. Despite alternating as the dealer, I lost hand after hand. My glasses went first, then my socks, my shirt, and my pants. I had only my underwear left to my name. My girlfriend, on the other hand, had merely lost socks. "I think someone is begging to get naked in front of me," she teased. I exhaled through my nose. Even with only my underwear on display, at least I was still taller than her. I said, "You've seen the cards I've been getting tonight. You're getting lucky, as usual." "Can't be luck if it happens usually," she retorted in a sing-song tune, "Now let's work on those undies. Hit or stand? Your dignity is up for grabs." I had 19 and her up card was a 4. It was a favorable position for me. I wasn't counting cards, but I guessed a hit was too risky. I chose to play it safe and stayed. Five seconds later, she had hit 21. "Easy! Undies off now," she commanded. Despite dating for two years, I was still quite shy showing my bits in front of her. She noticed I was taking my time. She began snapping her fingers, "Come on, slide them off. Quickly now." As I pulled the waistband down to my ankles, a blush crept up my neck. With my underwear now off, I covered my lower bits with my hands. "Now what?" "Well you could start by standing up straight," my girlfriend chastised, but then I watched her smile widen into a predatory curve. "What if we kept playing but we added clothes?" I chuckled. We were both kinky freaks. She had stripped me first, so, by rights, I was to be the sub for the day. However, her suggestion meant that the game wasn’t over. I still had a chance to put her back in her place. I told her, "I’ve got a lovely thought for what to make you wear. What are you going to make me wear?" "You'll find out." I sighed. She was coy when she was dominant, but I enjoyed putting up resistance. Covering my lower bits, I turned on my game face and returned to the makeshift playing field on our bed. Despite my attempt to censor myself, I was getting excited and my girlfriend noticed. "Did you just leak on our bed again?" She was still smiling as she teased, "I think you know what's coming next." "Game's not over yet," I reminded her, "You'll enjoy being put in your Pampers by your nude daddy." The beauty of a switch-switch relationship was the mind games. Either of us could sub and either of us could dom. The cards would decide what would happen next. I was dealer this time, so I had the advantage. I was going to play optimally this round and minimize risk. Stand on a 17, hit otherwise. I dealt her hand and my jaw dropped. Bullshit! It was her third 21 since we had started playing. "Uh oh," she mused, "at least we'll be taking care of that leak shortly." Flustered, I revealed my hand. It was 17. I couldn't surrender. I took a deep breath, praying to any god of fortune that would hear me out: let me win this game. I hit again. "Bust-ed!" my girlfriend celebrated, "I'll go pick out your diaper. Pull out the changing mat from under the bed and wait for me." She disappeared around the corner. I begrudgingly pulled out the changing mat and mocked her under my breath, "Can't be luck if it happens usually." I heard her fluffing the diaper as she rounded the corner. "I got you a Bunny Hopps because you're my little bunny!" She gleefully approached me, "You know the drill." I did know the drill. She began with a cool, soothing cream, massaging it into my skin until I shivered. "Can you apply some to the butt?" I asked hopefully. "So needy and pouty!" She tsk'ed me. "I don't want to get rash there! I have to sit in this, remember?" The scent of baby powder filled the air as she powdered the inside of my diaper. She ordered me to bridge, and I heard the crinkle of plastic as she slid the diaper under me. I lowered into the billowy embrace of the fluffy diaper. A dusting of baby powder settled on my skin as she directly powdered me. She worked her hand around my diaper area, spreading the powder and coating my skin. She then secured the bottom tapes, and I felt the soft, yielding fabric apply a slight pressure to my thighs. With the hooks looped, I started to reach to grab the waist of the diaper and help pull it up, but she batted my hands and shook her head, "Nuh uh! Keep your hands above your head, silly diaper baby." I resigned my hands above my head as she flushed and secured the top tapes. My eyes nearly rolled out of my head at the adorable ABU bunny print that unashamedly pranced on the front of my diaper. She stood me up for a last inspection. I could easily stand three inches taller than her, but my legs instinctively went wide to accommodate the diaper's bulk. She massaged the front of my diaper to help fluff it in its final position. A whiff of baby powder caught me by surprise and I smiled; I was beginning to lose our battle of wills. "All done! You look so cute now." She kissed me on my cheek and returned to the other side of the bed. She had secured a major victory, but the war was not over. I had to snap out of it. I had daddy'ed her while wearing a diaper before and I was prepared to do it again. She dealt the next hand, and I took a win. "Remove thy shift," I said in my best impression of the devil I could muster. As good as any when uttered by a naked boy in a pink bunny diaper. Then I won again. And again. She was sockless, shirtless, pantsless, braless, and down to her thin Haynes underwear. How embarrassed would she be when I spanked her bare bottom while in a diaper myself? As she tossed her bra to the laundry basket, I commented, "How the turns have tabled." "The game's not over yet." She channeled the voice of her favorite Yu-Gi-Oh antagonist as she quoted, "Play your pathetic cards." "My deck has no pathetic cards," I bantered back. Turns out my next few hands were nothing but pathetic cards. Each loss was another nail in my dignity, and with each nail came another article of clothing from the closet. She rounded the corner and presented the first garment with a slow, deliberate flourish; a dress that defied all logic and decency. It was constructed entirely of layered pink satin and was puffed at the shoulders like a cotton meringue. The bodice was cinched impossibly tight with a heart-shaped belt studded with faux pearls. The skirt was a swirling vortex of fabric: multiple tiers of shimmering pink tulle, each layer edged with a ridiculously wide, ruffled trim. The skirt barely reached downwards from its empire waist. I shivered as I knew the skirt would do nothing to conceal my diaper. The dress was a confection of pink excess--a visual assault on masculinity itself, designed solely to embarrass me. "You’ll need help," she murmured, her voice low and laced with amusement, as she reached for me. I instinctively braced myself. Her hands were cool and firm as she began to pull the bodice over my head, the stiff satin scraping against my skin. It was a strangely intimate act: a violation of boundaries performed with playful intent. She tugged gently at the fabric, guiding it, her fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary. Then came the skirt--the chaotic cascade of tulle that threatened to engulf me entirely. I fidgeted as she wrestled with the layers, pulling and smoothing, her movements precise and controlled. "Don’t fight it," she instructed, her voice firm but not unkind. As she fastened the heart-shaped belt with a deliberate click, I felt a surge of shame... a visceral awareness of my vulnerability. She paused, holding the skirt up to assess the effect. The diminutive length was palpable. I reddened at the stark outline of my diaper which was clearly displayed under the layers of pink fabric. The next loss gave me my pink booties, which were wrapped with a small chain and padlock around the ankles. Two bells also adorned the ankles, which were sure to announce my arrival even when the crinkle of my diaper was too soft. Despite how absurdly pink they were, I welcomed the warmth the booties brought to my feet. The chain applied a distinct pressure around my ankles--a deliberate tightening that bordered on painful. The chain wasn’t just about security. It was about dominance. A physical manifestation of her power. Matching pink mittens were next. I knew they were the same as the booties with a small chain, padlock, and bells. Once secured, they were very difficult to remove. "I can't play cards with those mittens on," I argued. She ignored me and shackled the mittens, clicking the lock into place. As she secured the mittens, a strange numbness began to spread through my hands. It wasn’t just warmth; it was a severance. I tried to flex my fingers, to grasp at the padded fabric, but they wouldn’t respond. They were trapped, encased in a rigid shell of pink fluff. My hands were locked in place, unresponsive, and denied by her command. She dealt my cards face down. I stared at them knowing this was futile. I uselessly pawed at the card through my mitten. I couldn't grasp the card to flip it over. She looked me over carefully, "You know, I'm not sure a baby girl like you should be playing Blackjack in the first place. You should be playing with your dollies. This game is far too mature for you." I leered back at her, "This isn't fair! We play in rounds of five, and I've only lost four times since losing my clothes." I had a good point, but she snapped back, "Are you going to be a brat tonight? I can get your paddle and teach you a lesson if I need to." I went silent. She had a better point. She was growing more confident with every moment. "You can't even hold your cards up. You're dressed in a diaper and pretty frock like a sissy baby, so you better start acting like one." She paused for a moment, as if to catch her breath. I had no words; everything she had said was true. She continued, "I'm going to finish dressing you. Wait here." I crossed my arms and huffed in my diaper, short skirt, and matching mittens and booties. I felt like I was shrinking by the minute. She returned with the final accoutrements, starting with a wide-brimmed, heart-adorned, frilly, pink bonnet. Arms still crossed, I pouted as she laced the ribbon under my chin, pulling it taut so that the silk embraced and caressed my cheeks. "Your hair is too short," she criticized, reading my pouting face, "If you would just grow your hair out I wouldn’t need to lace you in your bonnet." Then she fitted my collar, adorned with lacy frills of pink and white satin. The collar, too, had bells that settled wistfully along its length. She pulled the collar tightly and the satin squeezed down on my neck. Two fingers of space was the rule but nothing interesting ever came from following the rules. My outfit was complete. My nearly nude girlfriend smiled as she studied me, admiring her handiwork, then proclaimed, "I know why you're so grumpy. You're hungee, aren't you?" She was now baby talking me. I was doomed. I toddled behind her clumsily, battling both the bulk of my diaper and the swirling vortex of tulle that sprouted from my skirt. She led me into our kitchen where she sat me on a bar stool, with my skirt poofing outwards beyond the edges of the stool. She retrieved my princess pink baby bottle from the fridge. She tilted my head back and lifted the bottle up, pressing the nipple into my mouth. Her breasts still exposed, I closed my eyes and imagined myself sucking on her nipple, and the almond milk began to trickle into my mouth. "Good baby," she cooed. My body began to surrender to instinct. Elevated on the bar stool, a reflexive flutter rippled through my legs, like a baby duck’s kick against still water. When I opened my eyes, my girlfriend gazed down at me, her expression softened with maternal affection. A wave of warmth and trust washed over me as she cared for me. The rhythmic sucking on the bottle triggered an instinctive need: a sudden urge to release myself. Without thought, I did so, a warm dampness spreading through my diaper--and a smile bloomed on my face. Then, something shifted within me, a veil parting to reveal... something both familiar and utterly new. All day long, I’d clung tightly to the steering wheel of my soul, fiercely piloting myself; but her gentle touch whispered that it was safe to relinquish control. Slowly, I released my grip. It was an oblivion unlike any I’d known before. Rent, debts, car troubles, postdoc applications, unread emails, unanswered calls, the looming dissertation--they dissolved into a distant haze. Like motes of cosmic dust dancing across a sky of polished onyx, they drifted away. And I floated with them. A dream unfolded: the firmness of wooden crib bars grasped by mittens, the playful click of plastic keys, the comforting scent of baby powder mingling with neat stacks of fluffy diapers, the gentle crinkle of plastic against my skin, and a mobile spinning above me, humming a rosy tune. A monsoon of pastels wrapped around me, then I was swathed in soft, pink satin. My phantom of delight held me sweetly in her arms. As the last drop of milk vanished, I opened my mouth to tell my mommy, "I love you," but she silenced me with a gentle hush. Reaching for a pacifier, she placed it between my lips. I welcomed its comfort with glee. "Come, my little princess. I'm going to snuggle you on the bed." She gathers my mitten-clad hand and guides me down from the stool. Then, leading the way back to our bedroom, she looms above me: a benevolent giant shielding me from uncertainty. I waddle behind her, a tiny echo of her grace, my booties padding softly on the floor. I find comfort in the warmth of my soiled nappy, and I suck on my paci as the bells on my collar jingle happy.

Hello everyone! A little bit about me: I'm French, so English is not my first language. I've also been diagnosed with dysorthography. Yet, I'm determined to write a nice story in English - I know, I like to challenge myself! All of that to say, you may encounter some unusual phrasing or grammatical/spelling errors. I do my best to catch these using various tools, but I may miss some and am very open to feedback. To give some context to the story itself, I started writing it a little over a year ago, inspired by many talented writers (especially SolSombra's work), and felt motivated to create something of my own. This is my first written story, so it may lack some elements found in what I'd consider "good" stories, but I'm making progress as I write. To be absolutely fair, this is not the first version of this story—an earlier draft was posted on Wattpad before the grand purge. What you're reading now is actually a rewritten (and hopefully a better) version. I'm currently working on rewriting the old chapters and creating new ones in parallel. Because of this, the release delay for the first chapters (which require the most rewriting) may be quite long. I'm still hesitating between releasing the old version and finding a way to provide the improved version later, or simply accepting longer release delays to ensure you get the best quality from the start. Thanks for your patience and understanding. I hope you enjoy the story! Ambre's Uneasy Departure Hi, I'm Ambre, 18, just out of high school, and on pins and needles, waiting and hoping to hear a 'yes' from my dream college. The past three years have been a relentless grind, a constant circle of late nights studying, endless essays, pushing myself harder and harder, and giving more than I even thought I had. I've poured every ounce of energy into this, sacrificing sleep, and anything resembling a social life to make sure my application is perfect. And by all logic, I should be. My grades are solid. I've worked harder than anyone else I know. But logic doesn't stop the nagging voice in the back of my head. What if it's not enough? What if I'm not enough? What if they look at everything I've done and decide it doesn't matter? And as if all that weren't bad enough, there's also the other thing. It's humiliating to even think about, let alone admit, but for the past few weeks, I've been waking up to wet sheets. Yes... Bedwetting. The word alone is enough to make my cheeks burn. I've seen the doctor, been poked, prodded, and tested in every way imaginable, and they've all come back the same: nothing physically wrong. Just too much stress. Great. As if that makes it any less humiliating. 18 years old and peeing the bed from a little stress... The only silver lining is my mom. She's been incredible about it—helping me with the laundry without a single judgmental word, brushing off all my mumbled apologies like they were nothing. She's even planned a week-long trip to visit my Aunt Claire and my cousin Chloe in the Alps. "It'll be good for you," she said. "A break from all the pressure." And she's probably right. Three whole years have passed since I last saw them. Three years of not sitting around their kitchen table, laughing until my sides hurt. Three years of missing Chloe's terrible jokes and Aunt Claire's warm hugs. I can almost feel the crisp mountain air, hear the sound of Aunt Claire's voice teasing me for fighting over Chloe for the first bite of dessert, and see her goofy grin as she lets me win. I've missed them so much that it hurts every time I think about it. And finally, finally, I get to see them again. This trip is exactly what I need. So here I am, standing in my room, packing up the last few things. My suitcase is almost bursting at the seams—I might've overpacked just a little—but I like to be prepared. Besides, Aunt Claire always says, "You can never have too many cozy clothes in the mountains." A soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. "Hey, honey, need a hand with anything?" Mom asks, stepping into the room. I glance up and smile. "Nope, I'm good. Just finishing up." "You all set for tomorrow?" "Yeah, I think so," I reply, zipping up the suitcase with a bit of effort. She nods, then hesitates. "Ambre, there's something I wanted to talk to you about before the trip." Her voice is calm, but there's a weight to it that sets my nerves on edge. I straighten up, tucking my hair behind my ear. "Humm... Okay?" Mom steps closer, folding her hands lightly in front of her. "First, I want you to know how proud I am of you. The way you've been handling everything—school, college applications, even... I know it's a lot. And you've been incredibly strong through all of it." Her words warm something in my chest, but they also make my stomach tighten. Speech like that usually comes with a "but." "But," she continues her tone gentle, "with how things have been, and with you staying at Claire's, I think it might be worth considering some... extra protection at night." Her words hang in the air for a moment before they click, hitting me like a slap. "Wait. You mean .... DIAPERS?" "No! Not diapers," she says quickly, shaking her head. "More like pull-ups. It's way more discreet. It's practically like regular underwear actually... but with a little extra padding. Just in case." "Mom, no! No way! I'm eighteen! I can't wear... I can't wear THAT," I exclaim, my hands clenching into fists at my sides in frustration. What if Chloe finds out? Or Aunt Claire? Everyone will know, and I'll-" My voice cracks and I close my mouth, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I know it's not what you want to hear," she says softly, holding her ground. "Believe me, I get it. But no one has to know. And this has nothing to do with age. It's about making sure you're comfortable while you're there." Looking at Mom's face, seeing the worry in her eyes, my anger starts to fade. She's been trying so hard to help me through all of this. And here I am, yelling at her for trying to find a solution. Even if it's one that makes my cheeks burn just thinking about it. "What if..." My voice is quieter now, hesitant. "What if I just set alarms? I can wake up and... you know, go before anything happens." Mom's expression softens further, but she shakes her head. "Honey, you're so tired already. You need to sleep. Alarms would only stress you out more, and this trip is supposed to help you relax, not make things harder." Her words settle heavily in the air, and I chew my lip, trying to think of something—anything—that could work instead. But no matter how much I try to find a way out, her logic keeps circling back to the same conclusion. I should've thought of this sooner! What did I think was going to happen? That it would just magically disappear? That I wouldn't wake up to wet sheets just because I wasn't home? Well, not a great plan. Because it won't. My stomach churns as I imagine it: waking up in a wet bed, with Chloe just a room away. It can't happen. Never. My thoughts race, jumping from one horrible scenario to the next. For a moment, the thought of canceling the whole trip crosses my mind. It would solve everything, right? No pull-ups, no risk of anyone finding out. I could just stay home and avoid the whole mess. But then Aunt Claire's and Chloe's faces flash in my mind. Three years. Three whole years of missed memories. I can't. My shoulders slump as an overwhelming wave of helplessness washes over me, heavy and suffocating. "This sucks," I mutter, more to myself than to her. "I know it does," Mom says softly, stepping closer again to wrap her arms around me in a tight hug. "But I really do think this is the best option, especially if you want to keep things discreet." Her words hang in the air for a long moment before I finally sigh. "Fine, I'll wear them" Mom exhales softly, her shoulders easing slightly, "I know this isn't easy, honey. But I promise, it's not as bad as you think." I let out a shaky breath, my head leaning against her. "I'm... sorry I snapped," I mutter, "I didn't mean to." Her arms tighten slightly, her hand brushing gently over my back. "It's okay," she says softly, her voice warm. "I know how much you're holding in, Ambre. It's a lot to deal with." "It's just... it's so humiliating," I whisper, my voice cracking. "I know," she murmurs, still holding me close. "You've been so strong through all of this, Ambre. And I'm proud of you. But you don't have to face it alone." Her words ease some of the tightness in my chest, but the knot of shame is still there, twisting painfully. After a moment, she shifts slightly, her tone soft but hesitant. "Ambre... I may have overstepped but ..." she starts carefully. "I, um... I already bought a pack. Just in case." I stiffen, my heart skipping a beat. "You already bought them?" Mom nods, her expression a little nervous. "I thought it might be easier this way," she explains. "I didn't want you to have to go buy them yourself." Her words sink in, and the knot in my stomach twists tighter as the image forms in my mind. I see myself standing in a glaringly bright aisle, staring at the shelves lined with packages that practically scream "bedwetter." My cheeks burn as I imagine grabbing one and clutching it to my chest, trying to hide it with my coat, praying no one notices. The cashier would have to scan it, maybe glance at it, perhaps even make a comment—something harmless but unbearable, like "Do you need a bag for these?" or "Buying for a younger sibling?" The thought sends a cold shiver down my spine. What if I ran into someone from school? The image flashes through my mind: their confused look, the moment of realization, the whispers that would follow. Everyone would know. Everyone would see. I shake my head slightly, trying to clear the thoughts away. If Mom hadn't thought of this, if she hadn't already bought them, I would have to face that nightmare right now. Just thinking about it makes me shudder. "Thanks," I mumble, my voice small. "For... for thinking of that. For making it easier." Mom's expression softens, her hand brushing lightly against my arm. "Of course, honey," she says gently. "I'm just glad I can help." She hesitates for a moment, then adds carefully, "I was also thinking... maybe it'd help if you tried one tonight?" Her voice is calm and measured, like she's carefully choosing her words. "That way, if it's not the right fit, we can figure something else out before you're at Claire's." "Tonight?" I echo, my voice rising slightly. She nods slowly. "I know it's not the most fun idea," she admits, "but here at home, you're safe, and it might make tomorrow feel less overwhelming if you know what to expect. It would also save us from having to deal with wet sheets tomorrow before we head out." She pauses, her voice softening even more. "We have an early start, Ambre, and I don't want you worrying about that." Her words land heavily, and my cheeks burn as I realize what she's saying. She's convinced I'm going to have an accident tonight. I know it's been weeks since I've woken up dry, but still... couldn't she have a little optimism? Just a little? But I guess optimism wouldn't help. At this point, I don't need optimism. I need a straight-up miracle. And yet, I hesitate. Her logic does make sense, but the thought of actually wearing one makes my cheeks burn. Still, I have to admit that the idea of waking up in a wet bed at Aunt Claire's is way worse. I exhale slowly, my shoulders slumping. "Okay," I mumble. "I'll.. I'll try one tonight." Her smile softens further, and she gives my arm a gentle squeeze. "I know this isn't easy, sweetheart, but I'm really proud of you," She pauses, her expression brightening slightly. "And just think—this time tomorrow, you'll be with Claire and Chloe, probably laughing so hard you'll barely remember all this stress." I glance up at her, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of my lips despite myself. "I told Claire not to spoil you too much," She chuckles softly. "But I know her, and I already know there are a few surprises waiting for you." Her words nudge something loose inside me. For a moment, the thought of Aunt Claire's warm hugs and Chloe's terrible jokes takes over, brushing against the corners of my mind like a small spark in the gloom. I've let this stupid problem take over too much of my life already. I can't ruin this trip. I have to be strong. I can be strong. I'll wear those pull-ups, no one will find out. And everything is gonna be great. A small smile finally breaks through, surprising even me. I glance at Mom, and the way her face lights up in response makes my chest feel a little lighter. "There's my brave girl," she says softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "It's going to be a great week, I promise." I nod faintly, her words settling in enough to take the edge off my embarrassment. She gives me one last hug before stepping toward the door. "Just don't stay up too late, okay? We've got an early start tomorrow." "Yeah, okay," I reply quietly. The door clicks shut behind her, and I'm left alone with my thoughts—and the growing reality of what I just agreed to I sit on the edge of my bed for what seems like an eternity, staring at my suitcase, my fingers absentmindedly brushing the fabric. Tonight, for the first time in ages, I'm actually going to wear pull-ups. Not because of some elaborate, evil plan, not because someone figured out a way to force me to. But because I need one. Because even though I'm 18, even though I'm officially an adult, I. can't fall asleep without peeing the bed. My chest tightens at the thought, embarrassment bubbling up again, but I force myself to take a deep breath. This is the right thing to do. I know it is. But knowing doesn't make it any easier. Pushing myself up, I shuffle toward the bathroom, each step heavier than the last. The door clicks softly behind me, and I turn the lock with trembling fingers, then check it again — just to be sure. I know Mom probably wouldn't barge in, but still... I really don't want her to walk in on me, not when I'm about to... I stare at the cabinet where Mom must have put them, my hand hovering over the handle. I should just get it over with. Just open it. But I just stand frozen, caught between the need to act and the felling I should go back to my room and pretend none of this is happening. But that won't solve anything, will it? Taking a deep breath, I finally pull open the cabinet door. There it is—deep pink, with purple butterflies dancing across the front. I reach out slowly, my fingers brushing against the plastic before I actually pick it up. The package feels lighter than I expected. As I turn it over in my hands, examining it from all angles, my eyes catch on something that makes me pause - "Ages 15-18" printed in small letters on the side. I blink, reading it again, fingers tracing over the numbers. They make these for teenagers? I mean, they had to, or Mom wouldn't have found them, but seeing it there in black and white... They wouldn't make these if I was the only one, right? Someone must have thought enough teenagers needed them to design a whole product just for us. The thought loosens something in my chest, just a little. Yet, somehow opening it still feels like crossing a line. Something I can't undo. But I've already agreed to try, already made it this far... What choice do I really have? Swallowing hard, I finally rip the package open, the sharp sound bouncing off the bathroom walls. I freeze, my heart pounding in my ears as my eyes dart to the door even. Bit of course, no one's coming. It's locked, and Mom is probably already in her bed anyway. Feeling slightly silly for my paranoia, I reach into the package. The first pull-up comes out easily, unfolding slightly in my hands. Feeling my cheek burn, I run my fingers over the fabric. It's definitely thicker than regular underwear, especially in the middle, but not as bulky as I feared. And if it's clearly more decorated and colorful than any of my regular underwear, it's not as childish as I thought it would be. The more I touch it, the more it feels like... a really colorful, padded underwear. I let out a tiny sigh - looks like Mom had a point about trying them first at home. I really don't want to think about how it would have felt to do that for the first time there. Trust her to think of that. The pull-up dangles from my trembling fingers as I stare at it for another long moment This is really happening. But it's just for one week, right? Just to be safe. And definitely better than waking up to wet sheets at Aunt Claire's. "Okay, let's do this," I whisper to myself. My voice comes out shaky, but it helps push me into action. I tug down my pajama pants and underwear in one go, letting them pool around my ankles,. I close my eyes for a moment, gathering my courage. Then, holding the pull-up low in front of me, I lift my right foot. The leg hole feels wider than my regular underwear as I guide my foot through it. My hands are shaking so much I almost lose my grip, but I manage to get my other foot in too. The material pools around my ankles, butterflies looking up at me, waiting. This is it. No going back now. My fingers find the waistband, gripping it on both sides. Then slowly, so slowly, I start pulling it up. The fabric whispers against my skin as it rises, different from anything I've felt before. It's higher now, over my thighs.The padding starts to curve around my legs, hugging them, making my heart race so fast I can hear it in my ears. With one final tug, I pull it up completely. The waistband settles around my hips with a gentle snap, and just like that, I'm wearing it. Actually wearing it. I stand frozen for a moment, hyper-aware of every sensation. The way the padding molds to my body, how it hugs against my thighs, the way it warms up where it touches my skin, even the slight weight of it - everything feels new and strange. My hand hovers uncertainly before coming to rest against the pull-up, my fingers barely touching it. Then, slowly, they begin to slide across the front, feeling the smooth fabric under my fingertips. It's different from anything I've touched before, almost silky. I press my palm against it, feeling the padding give under my touch, then springs back when I lift my hand. The material is so different from what I know – all soft and squishy beneath my fingers – each press sending tiny sensations through to my skin, like distant echoes of my touch. Growing bolder, I shift slightly, feeling how it moves with me. The whole thing settles against my skin, hugging every curve. Another tiny movement, and the padding adjusts again, following my body perfectly. I hadn't expected it to cover me so completely, to wrap around me so closely. Then I feel my fingers drift downward, almost on their own. There, the padding feels different - thicker, firmer. As I press against it, testing, the whole thing shifts. A soft gasp escapes my lips as I feel it moving against my skin in ways I didn't expect, the soft material creating tiny waves of tingles through my body. My eyes dart up, catching my reflection in the mirror, and I freeze. Heat rushes to my face as I realize what I'm doing – standing here in the bathroom, lost in the feeling of something I never thought I'd wear. I quickly snatch my hands away, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Moving suddenly, almost frantically, I grab my pajama pants and pull them up. The soft fabric muffles the crinkling sound, but not completely. It's still faintly there, like a whisper, but less obvious. I shove the package of pull-ups back into the cabinet, pushing it to the very back and closing the door with trembling fingers. Taking a deep breath, I unlock the bathroom door, cracking it open just enough to peek into the hallway. Empty. Thank God. The last thing I need is to run into Mom right now. I step out, moving quickly but carefully, my bare feet barely making a sound against the floor. Every step feels like it takes forever, the padding between my legs an ever-present reminder of what I'm wearing. As I reach my room, I slip inside and shut the door behind me with a soft click, leaning against it for a moment. The rush to get here without being seen has my heart pounding in my chest, and I take a few deep breaths to steady myself. I climb into bed, pulling the blankets up to my chin. My cheeks burn again, the heat spreading through my face as I shift awkwardly under the covers, the padding pressing lightly against my legs, impossible to ignore. I'm 18, and I'm about to sleep in a pull-up. And yet... it's not as bad as I thought it would be. It's not ugly, or overly childish. It's really soft, and it doesn't pinch or feel uncomfortable. It kind of fits perfectly actually, almost c— I cut that thought off, feeling my face flush even hotter. No. I am not going there. Instead, I try to focus on something else—on the trip tomorrow, on my best memories there. The cozy house tucked into the mountains, the smell of fresh-baked pastries wafting from Aunt Claire's kitchen, lazy afternoons playing games with Chloe, the sound of our laughter. Slowly, my breathing evens out. The sensation of the pull-up starts fading into the background, overtaken by the pull of sleep. And as my eyes grow heavier, a small smile finally tugs at my lips. This week is going to be amazing. It has to be.

Hey is there any fellow little's or caregivers that would like to maybe catch up in and around the Bendigo area? If so let me know would be great :)

The ribbon was fraying at the edges. David noticed it first—the way the satin curled where Rachel had tied it too tight around his wrist earlier, the pink threads splitting under the strain. He stared at it while she hummed something tuneless above him, her nails tapping against the plastic bottle of baby powder like she was counting seconds. The changing mat crinkled under his weight. It was the same sound every time—sharp at first, then softening as his body heat warmed the vinyl. Rachel’s knee pressed into his hip to keep him still while she dusted the powder over his thighs, the cool puff of it making him shiver. "Stop squirming," she said, not looking at him. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a name David couldn’t read from this angle. Rachel’s fingers tightened around his ankle for half a second before she let go, reaching for the fresh nappy beside her. The scent of lavender lotion clung to the air, thick enough to coat his tongue. David swallowed against it, watching Rachel’s face—the way her lips thinned when she unfolded the nappy, the way her eyes flicked toward the door every few breaths. The satin ribbon bit into his skin as he flexed his wrists, testing the knot. A car door slammed outside. Rachel froze, her fingers pausing mid-motion over the tapes of the nappy. David held his breath. Then came the laughter—high and bright, the kind that meant Megan and her friends were already tipsy before they’d even made it up the driveway. Rachel’s breath came out in a slow, deliberate exhale, her fingers finally securing the last tape of the nappy with a sharp pat against David’s hip. The plastic rustled loudly in the sudden silence, louder still when Megan’s laughter spilled into the hallway, followed by the click-clack of heels on hardwood. David’s pulse throbbed in his throat. "Up you go," Rachel murmured, hooking her hands under his armpits to haul him onto the bed. The headboard rattled as she arranged him against the pillows, his legs splayed awkwardly around the bulk of the nappy. She didn’t bother untying his wrists. Instead, she straightened the frilly dress—pale pink, with little bows at the shoulders—and smoothed a hand over his hair. Her fingers trembled. The doorknob turned. Megan stood framed in the doorway, her skirt riding up her thighs as she leaned against the jamb. Behind her, the redhead—Liz, David remembered—peered over her shoulder, her grin widening at the sight of him. "Oh my *god*," Megan drawled, stepping inside. Her heels left dents in the carpet. "She really *did* put you in diapers." Rachel’s smile was thin, her fingers tightening on David’s shoulder. "He’s been *very* naughty," she said, voice lilting in a way that made David’s stomach twist. Megan’s gaze dropped to his lap, where the dress had ridden up, exposing the plastic pants beneath. Liz giggled, nudging past Megan to plop down on the bed beside David. The mattress dipped, forcing him to tilt toward her. "So *this* is why you never come out anymore," she teased, poking his cheek. Her nail left a crescent-shaped indentation in his skin. "Mommy’s little *baby*." Rachel’s phone buzzed again, the vibration loud against the nightstand. She snatched it up, her thumb swiping across the screen before her expression shuttered. "I have to—" She cut herself off, already backing toward the door. "Behave," she said, though David wasn’t sure who she was talking to. Megan’s hand landed on his knee the moment the door clicked shut. Her palm was warm through the plastic. "So," she said, tilting her head. "How *exactly* does this work?" Liz giggled again, reaching for the hem of his dress. David jerked, but the ribbon held fast. The plastic crinkled as Liz yanked the fabric up, exposing the pink knickers stretched over the nappy. Megan whistled. "Damn. That’s *commitment*." Down the hall, the front door opened—a heavy, deliberate sound. Footsteps. Bob’s voice, low and amused. Rachel’s answering laugh, breathy and too high. Megan’s fingers dug into David’s thigh. "Guess Mommy’s *busy*," she murmured, leaning in until her breath ghosted over his ear. "You wanna be *extra* good for her, don’t you?" Liz’s hand settled on his other leg, her thumb rubbing circles through the plastic. David’s chest tightened. The ribbon bit deeper. Somewhere, Rachel moaned. The bed creaked as Megan climbed onto it, straddling David’s hips. The plastic pants crackled under her weight. Liz’s fingers found the waistband of the knickers, tugging lightly. "Let’s see what Mommy’s hiding," she whispered. David squeezed his eyes shut. The front door slammed. The ribbon snapped. David barely registered the sound—just the sudden give of his right wrist, the rush of blood returning to his fingers—before Megan’s weight shifted above him, her thighs clamping down on either side of his hips. "Uh-uh," she tutted, catching his freed hand before he could move. Her grip was deceptively strong, her nails pressing crescents into his pulse. Liz giggled, already yanking the other ribbon loose with a sharp tug that sent the frayed ends fluttering to the bedspread. "You *were* being good," Megan sighed, her free hand trailing down to press against the front of his plastic pants. The crinkle was obscenely loud in the quiet room, louder still when she palmed the dampening padding beneath. David’s breath hitched. "Guess we’ll have to tell Mommy her baby needs *extra* discipline." Liz’s fingers slipped under the waistband of his knickers, peeling them down just enough to expose the swell of the nappy beneath. The air was cool against David’s overheated skin. Megan leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "Think Bob’s gonna wanna play too?" she whispered, just as the unmistakable sound of a belt unbuckling echoed down the hall. Rachel’s moan—high, broken—cut through the wall. David flinched. Liz laughed, her thumb pressing deliberately against the leaking tip of his cock through the thick terry cloth. "Oh, *wow*," she breathed, her eyes darting to Megan. "He’s—" "I *know*," Megan interrupted, her voice husky. She rocked her hips forward, grinding down just enough to make David whimper. The plastic pants squeaked under the friction. "Mommy’s little *pervert*." The bedroom door swung open without warning. Bob filled the doorway, his shirt already half-unbuttoned, his belt dangling loose at his waist. Rachel clung to his arm, her lips swollen, her dress rumpled where his hands had clearly been. She blinked at the scene on the bed—at Megan straddling David, at Liz’s fingers still working under the waistband—and her mouth curved into something slow and satisfied. "Look at him," she murmured, stepping forward on unsteady heels. Bob’s hand settled possessively on her hip, his thumb rubbing circles through the fabric. Rachel didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes were fixed on David, on the way his chest rose and fell too fast. "Just *look*." Bob chuckled, low and thick. "Knew he’d like it," he said, reaching past Rachel to grab the hem of David’s dress. The fabric tore a little as he yanked it upward, exposing the full mess of the nappy, the way the wetness had spread across the front. Megan shifted to give him space, her fingers still locked around David’s wrist. Rachel sighed, sinking onto the bed beside Liz. Her fingers—still slick with something David didn’t want to think about—trailed down his chest, stopping just above the waistband of the plastic pants. "Daddy’s here," she cooed, her thumb pressing against his lower lip. "Aren’t you gonna say *hello*?" David’s throat worked. Bob’s shadow loomed over him, blocking the light from the hallway. The bed dipped as he climbed on, his knees bracketing David’s shoulders. Somewhere, Liz’s phone flashed. Megan’s grip tightened. Rachel smiled. The plastic pants crackled. Bob reached down. And David— Bob's fingers hooked into the waistband of David's plastic pants, peeling them down with a slow, deliberate crinkle that made the girls giggle. Underneath, the frilly pink satin knickers were stretched taut over the swollen bulge of the nappy, the lace trim digging into David's thighs. "Two inches," Bob announced, grinning as he flicked the damp terrycloth aside to expose David's flushed, twitching cock. "Maybe two and a half when he's *really* pathetic." Megan leaned in, her perfume cloying as she pinched the tip of David's erection between her manicured nails. "Aw," she cooed, "it's *adorable*." Liz's phone flashed again, capturing the way David's hips jerked involuntarily at the touch. Rachel sighed, running a hand through David's hair like he was a misbehaving pet. "He's always been tiny," she murmured, her thumb tracing the outline of his cock through the ruined nappy. "But look how *hard* he is anyway." The sheer pink nightie Megan pulled from the dresser drawer was even more humiliating than the dress—sleeves puffed like a doll’s, the neckline trimmed with bows that would sit just above David’s collarbones. "Arms up," Megan ordered, yanking the remnants of his old outfit off with a rip of fabric. The satin knickers followed, tossed carelessly toward Liz, who caught them with a laugh and pressed them to David’s nose. "Breathe deep, baby," she teased. "That’s all you’re getting tonight." The nightie slithered over David’s head, the material whisper-thin where it draped over his trapped erection. Bob whistled, adjusting himself through his slacks. "Fuck, that’s pitiful," he chuckled, grabbing a handful of the frilly hem and lifting it to expose David’s bare thighs, the nappy now discarded on the floor. Rachel’s fingers joined Megan’s, both of them tracing the outline of David’s cock through the sheer fabric while Liz filmed. "Three inches," Megan lied, her fingertip circling the wet spot forming at the tip. "Look, he’s *dripping*." Bob’s belt hit the floor with a thud. Rachel moaned softly, her free hand creeping up Bob’s thigh. The camera flash burned David’s retinas as Liz zoomed in, her breath hot against his ear. "Smile for the group chat, sissy." The sheer pink nightie clung to every pathetic inch of David’s trembling body, the fabric so thin he could see the flushed outline of his own erection straining against it—two inches at most, even at his most desperate. The frilly satin knickers Megan had forced him into earlier were long gone, tossed somewhere near the foot of the bed with the torn remnants of his dignity, but the memory of their lace edges biting into his thighs lingered. Now, the nightie’s puffed sleeves framed his collarbones like some grotesque parody of a Victorian doll, the bows at the neckline bobbing with every shallow breath he took. Bob’s laugh was a dark rumble as he leaned down, his calloused fingers tracing the damp spot where David’s pathetic cock wept through the sheer fabric. “Christ,” he muttered, flicking the swollen tip with a fingernail. “You could measure this thing with a *ruler* and still need to squint.” Megan’s phone was out again, the flash illuminating the way David’s hips jerked at the contact, the nightie riding up to expose the red marks Liz’s nails had left on his inner thighs. “Two inches,” Megan narrated for the camera, her voice saccharine. “Maybe two and a *half* if we’re feeling generous.” Rachel’s sigh was almost bored as she reached over, pinching the sodden fabric between her thumb and forefinger. “He always gets like this,” she murmured, rubbing the dampness into David’s stomach with slow, deliberate circles. “Tiny little thing, but so *desperate*.” Her other hand was tangled in Bob’s hair, guiding his mouth to her neck while Liz adjusted the camera angle to capture the full tableau—David squirming in his frilly pink humiliation, Bob’s bulk looming over Rachel, Megan’s manicured fingers tracing the outline of his erection through the nightie like she was sketching a particularly amusing insect. The plastic pants were back, crinkling ominously as Megan tugged them up over David’s hips—not for protection, but for the sound, for the way his breath hitched when she snapped the waistband against his skin. “There,” she cooed, patting the front where his cock strained against the layers. “Now you’re *properly* dressed.” Liz’s fingers dug into his shoulders, holding him still as Megan peeled back the plastic just enough to expose the tip, her lips quirking at the pathetic twitch it gave. “Say *ahh*,” she whispered, before spitting directly onto it. David’s gasp was drowned out by Rachel’s moan as Bob’s hand disappeared under her skirt, the bed creaking under their combined weight. Liz’s phone captured it all—the way David’s toes curled when Megan’s thumb swiped over his leaking slit, the way Bob’s free hand reached down to squeeze David’s thigh possessively, the way Rachel’s eyes fluttered shut as she murmured, “Daddy’s *home*.” The nightie was rucked up around his waist now, the frills trembling with every ragged breath David took. Somewhere beyond the haze of shame, he registered the click of Liz’s phone, the soft *whoosh* of a message sending. Megan’s grin was all teeth as she leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. “Everyone’s gonna see,” she whispered. “Everyone’s gonna know how *small* you are.” Bob’s chuckle vibrated through the mattress as he reached over, his fingers dwarfing David’s cock as he gave it a single, dismissive stroke. “Pathetic,” he agreed, right before Rachel’s nails dug into his wrist and dragged his hand back between her thighs. The plastic pants crackled. The camera flashed. The girls' laughter coiled around David like a noose—high, bright, and cruel in its delight. Megan's fingers dug into his shoulder as she forced him to sit upright, the frilly nightie bunching around his waist, exposing the pathetic twitch of his cock against his stomach. Liz angled her phone, the flash blinding him as Bob's belt buckle clattered to the floor. Rachel's breath hitched, her thighs already spread wide over Bob's lap, her skirt hiked up to reveal the damp lace clinging to her hips. "Watch," Megan commanded, her nails biting into David's chin as she jerked his head toward the spectacle. Bob's hands—thick-fingered, rough—gripped Rachel's waist, lifting her effortlessly onto his cock. Rachel's moan punched through the room, her head falling back as she sank down onto him, her fingers scrabbling at his shoulders. The wet *slap* of skin was obscenely loud. David whimpered. Liz giggled, zooming in on his face, then panning down to capture the way his tiny cock dribbled precome onto his trembling thigh. "Oh my *god*," she breathed, "he's *actually* leaking." Megan's thumb swiped over the tip, smearing the mess across his stomach. "Like a *drippy faucet*," she cooed, her voice syrupy with mock sympathy. Bob's hips pistoned upward, driving Rachel down onto him with a grunt. Rachel's moans spiraled higher, her fingers tangled in Bob's hair, her thighs quivering around his waist. The bedframe groaned under their combined weight, each thrust jostling David where the girls pinned him. Liz's knee pressed into his ribs, keeping him angled toward the spectacle, her phone capturing every twitch of his expression. "Stroke it," Megan ordered, her breath hot against his ear. When David hesitated, her hand closed around his wrist, forcing his fingers around his own cock. The contrast was grotesque—Bob's thick length disappearing into Rachel's slick cunt, while David's fingers nearly overlapped around his own pathetic erection. Liz's laughter was a sharp sting. "*So* tiny," she singsonged, her free hand pinching his nipple through the sheer nightie. Rachel's cry cut through the room as Bob's thrusts turned punishing, his grip bruising on her hips. "Daddy—*fuck*—" she gasped, her back arching. Bob's grin was feral, his gaze flicking to David's trapped form. "Your *wife*," he panted, "takes my cock so much better than you ever could." The words landed like a blow, and David's hips jerked involuntarily, his fingers tightening around himself. Megan's approval was a hum against his neck. "Good boy," she murmured, her teeth grazing his earlobe. Liz's phone tilted, capturing the moment Rachel came—her thighs clamping around Bob's waist, her scream muffled against his shoulder. Bob's groan was guttural, his thrusts stuttering before he buried himself deep, his release painting Rachel's insides with a possessiveness that made David's stomach twist. Rachel slumped against him, her breath ragged, her fingers limp against his chest. Megan's grip on David's wrist tightened, forcing his hand to move faster. "Look at him," she taunted, her voice thick with amusement. "*This* close to coming just from *watching*." Liz leaned in, her lips brushing David's other ear. "You wanna finish, baby?" she whispered. "Gonna make a *mess* all over yourself like a *good* little sissy?" Rachel's laugh was breathless as she peeled herself off Bob's lap, her thighs glistening. She reached down, her fingers—still sticky with Bob's spend—trailing over David's cheek. "Go on," she murmured, her thumb pressing against his bottom lip. "Show Daddy how *grateful* you are." Bob's shadow loomed over him, his cock still half-hard, glistening with Rachel's arousal. David's breath came in shallow hitches, his fingers moving frantically now, spurred on by Megan's whispered encouragements and Liz's relentless filming. The plastic pants crackled as his hips bucked, his orgasm crashing over him with a sob—pitiful, shuddering, *exactly* as humiliating as they'd hoped. Liz's phone captured every second. Megan's laughter was the last thing David heard before the darkness swallowed him whole. Rachel's climax hit like a freight train—her back arching off the bed, thighs clamping around Bob's waist as he pistoned into her with brutal, unrelenting thrusts. "*Harder*," she sobbed, nails raking down his chest, her voice breaking on every syllable. Bob obliged, his thick shaft stretching her wide, each snap of his hips driving her higher until her screams dissolved into wordless, shuddering gasps. The headboard slammed against the wall in time with their rhythm, the sound drowning out Megan's delighted giggles as she knelt beside David's limp form. The plastic pants crinkled loudly as Megan rolled him onto his back, her fingers making quick work of the tapes on the fresh nappy. David barely resisted—his wrists still tingling from the snapped ribbons, his mind foggy with shame and the aftershocks of his pathetic orgasm. The terrycloth pressed snug between his thighs, the bulk forcing his knees apart in a way that made Megan smirk. "There we go," she cooed, patting the front of the nappy with a condescending little tap. "All clean for Mommy." Liz tossed the frilly pink satin knickers at Megan's head, the lace catching on her curls before sliding into her waiting palm. "Don't forget these," she teased, leaning over to pinch David's cheek. His skin burned under her touch, his cock—still damp with his own release—twitching pathetically at the attention. Megan's grin widened as she yanked the knickers up his trembling legs, the satin whispering against his oversensitive skin. The frills scratched at his inner thighs, the waistband snug enough to press the padding of the nappy and plastic pants insistently against his spent cock. Rachel's moans pitched higher as Bob's pace turned punishing, his grip bruising on her hips. "oh bob fuck me *—" she gasped, her head thrashing against the pillows. Megan didn't glance up from her task, her fingers deftly adjusting the ruffles of David's knickers until the satin rubbed just *so* against his tender flesh. A whimper escaped him—half-protest, half-pleasure—and Liz's phone flashed again, capturing the way his hips twitched upward despite himself. Bob's growl cut through the room as he came, his thrusts stuttering before he buried himself to the hilt, his release flooding Rachel with a possessiveness that made David's stomach clench. Megan finally looked up, her gaze flicking between Rachel's blissed-out expression and David's trembling form. "Aww," she mocked, her fingers tracing the damp spot already forming on the front of his knickers. "Someone's *excited* again." Liz's laughter was a sharp counterpoint to Rachel's ragged breathing as she leaned in, her phone capturing the way David's cock strained against the layers of satin and terrycloth. Rachel's hand landed on David's thigh, her fingers still sticky with Bob's spend. Her thumb dug into the soft flesh there, her voice hoarse from screaming. "Look at him," she murmured, her lips curling into something darkly satisfied. "hes barely done with me, and he's already *hard*." Bob's chuckle vibrated through the mattress as he reached over, his fingers dwarfing David's cock through the frilly fabric. "Pathetic," he agreed, giving it a dismissive squeeze that made David's breath hitch. The plastic pants crackled as Megan tugged them up over David's hips, the sound obscenely loud in the quiet room. Liz's fingers twisted in his hair, forcing his head back so she could film the way his throat worked as Bob leaned in, his breath hot against David's ear. "You wanna taste?" he taunted, his fingers slick with Rachel's arousal as he pressed them to David's lips. "*Open.*" David's mouth opened on a sob. The girls' laughter coiled around him like a noose. Somewhere, Liz's phone kept flashing. Rachel's sigh was almost bored. And Bob— Bob's fingers pushed past his lips, the taste of Rachel's cunt and Bob's sweat flooding David's tongue. Megan's hand settled on the front of his frilly pink knickers ,plastic pants crinking ...rubbing slow, torturous circles as he choked around the intrusion. Liz's knee pressed into his ribs, her voice saccharine sweet: "Say *thank you*, sissy." David's whimper was muffled around Bob's fingers. The plastic pants crackled. And the camera—the camera never stopped flashing.

" The scent of leather and sweat hit Bobby before he even turned his head—musky, expensive, the kind that clung to hotel sheets and late-night texts. Des lounged against the doorframe, all broad shoulders and lazy grin, his tailored slacks straining against a bulge that made Bobby's pink satin frills flutter with traitorous interest. "Missed me, cupcake?" Des drawled, his voice dripping with the same amusement Lucy wore when she tucked Bobby into his crib each night. Dr. Emma's clipboard clattered onto the tray as she stepped back, her latex gloves snapping off with surgical precision. "Right on time," she murmured, nodding toward the examination table where Bobby trembled, his damp diaper gaping open under the fluorescent lights. Lucy's stiletto tapped impatiently against the tile as she scrolled through her phone—past the photos, past the timestamps—to a fresh message thread titled *Session Notes*. "He leaked," she announced, tilting the screen toward Des. "Again." The plastic pants crinkled as Bobby tried to squeeze his thighs together, but Des was already crossing the room, his shadow swallowing the pathetic twitch beneath Bobby's frills. A calloused thumb swiped through the wetness on Bobby's inner thigh, coming away glistening. "Christ," Des chuckled, rubbing his fingers together with a smirk. "You weren't kidding about the *baby* part." Behind him, the nursing student muffled a whimper into her textbook. SUMMARY^1: Des arrives at the clinic, his imposing presence immediately dominating the room. Bobby trembles on the exam table in his damp diaper and frilly attire, visibly aroused despite his humiliation. Dr. Emma steps aside professionally as Lucy taunts Bobby with evidence of his earlier accident. Des mockingly comments on Bobby's infantilized state, further heightening his shame while the nursing student reacts with poorly concealed fascination. Lucy's phone clicked—capturing the moment Des' grip encircled Bobby's entire length with room to spare, his pinky finger brushing the tip like an afterthought. "Say cheese," she crooned, zooming in as Bobby's face crumpled. The flash illuminated the tear streaking down his cheek—and the unmistakable twitch beneath Des' thumb. Dr. Emma sighed, scribbling a note. "Paradox confirmed." Des' chuckle vibrated through Bobby's ribs as he leaned closer, his aftershave smothering the antiseptic clinic smell. "Gonna cry?" he murmured, flicking the leaking tip with his middle finger. Bobby's breath hitched—not from pain, but from the way Lucy's heel ground slow circles against his trembling calf. The nursing student dropped her pen. The diaper crinkled louder as Des straightened, peeling off his designer belt with a snap that made everyone jump—except Lucy, who licked her lips. "Hold still, princess," he purred, looping the leather around Bobby's thighs in one smooth motion. The contrast was obscene: Italian calfskin against frilly satin, the buckle glinting beside Bobby's tiny pink bows. SUMMARY^1: Lucy takes a humiliating photo of Des dwarfing Bobby's penis with his grip, documenting Bobby's tearful reaction. Des taunts him further, provoking another involuntary physical response while Lucy subtly encourages the degradation. Des removes his belt, securing Bobby's thighs with it—the luxurious leather starkly contrasting with his infantile attire. Dr. Emma adjusted her glasses. "Note the submissive's pupil dilation," she dictated as Des tugged the belt tight, trapping Bobby's erection against his belly—where it strained pitifully against the leather, barely making a ridge. Lucy's phone flashed again. "Perfect," she breathed. "Now Daddy's going to show you how *real* men fuck." The door clicked shut behind them, leaving only the wet sound of Bobby's quiet sobs—and the unmistakable *snick* of a zipper. The nursing student's gasp was sharp—Des' erection sprang free like a sprung trap, thick and veined and glistening at the tip. Bobby's breath hitched at the sheer *size* of it, his thighs instinctively trying to close—but the belt held firm, the leather biting into his frilly satin. Des smirked, stroking himself lazily as Lucy leaned in, her manicured nails digging into Bobby's shoulder. "Watch," she whispered—not an order, but a gift—as Des' other hand slid between Bobby's trembling legs, pressing two fingers against the damp plastic covering his ass. SUMMARY^1: Dr. Emma clinically observes Bobby's reactions as Des restrains him with the belt, emphasizing his humiliation. Lucy revels in the scene, announcing Des will demonstrate "real" masculinity. Des exposes himself, overwhelming Bobby with his size while Lucy forces him to watch. Des then presses fingers against Bobby's diaper, escalating the psychological torment. SUMMARY^2: Des arrives and dominates the scene, reinforcing Bobby's humiliation through verbal taunts and physical comparisons. Lucy documents Bobby's shameful reactions while Des escalates the degradation by restraining him with a belt and forcing him to witness his own inadequacy firsthand. Dr. Emma clinically observes as Bobby's involuntary physiological responses betray his conflicted arousal. Bobby's entire body went rigid—not from fear, but from the electric jolt of sensation as Des' fingers rubbed slow circles through the crinkling material. "See?" Lucy murmured, her lips brushing Bobby's ear, "Daddy knows just where to touch." The nursing student's clipboard hit the floor with a clatter as Des leaned in, his breath hot against Bobby's neck. "Bet you leak through your diapers when you hear her scream for me," he growled—and Bobby did, right then, a hot spurt soaking into the padding as Lucy moaned theatrically beside him. Dr. Emma's pen scratched faster across her clipboard. "Fascinating," she murmured, though her gaze kept flicking to Des' thrusting hips—close enough now that the head of his cock left a glistening smear on Bobby's frilly nightie. "Full physiological surrender... with marked premature ejaculation." Bobby whimpered—half from shame, half from the way Des' fingers were hooking into the waistband of his diaper, peeling it down just enough to expose the pink, quivering flesh beneath. Lucy laughed, high and bright. "Oh, babygirl," she cooed, snapping another photo, "you're *made* for this." SUMMARY^1: Des stimulates Bobby through the diaper, provoking an immediate physical reaction. Lucy verbally reinforces the humiliation while Des whispers degrading comparisons. Bobby involuntarily ejaculates, which Dr. Emma clinically records while Des exposes him further. Lucy captures the moment triumphantly, declaring Bobby's inherent suitability for this dynamic. The scent of leather and sweat thickened as Des pressed forward, his erection bumping against Bobby's trapped cock—mockingly gentle—before sliding lower. Bobby's breath hitched when he felt the blunt pressure against his entrance, the plastic crinkle of his diaper the only barrier left. "Wait—" he gasped, but Lucy shushed him with a fingertip to his lips. "Shh," she murmured, her other hand already lifting her skirt to reveal bare skin beneath. "Daddy's just getting started." Des chuckled darkly, his fingers tightening on Bobby's hips as he leaned in close. "Count the thrusts for me, princess." Bobby's world narrowed to the撕裂痛 of stretch, the obscene squelch of lubricant—when had Emma even handed it over?—and the way Des' cock seemed to *pulse* inside him, reshaping his insides with every brutal snap of hips. The nursing student's moan was unexpected—her fingers twitching toward her own throat as she watched, mesmerized, while Lucy arched against Bobby's shoulder, her breath coming faster. "That's it," she panted, nails digging into Bobby's satin-clad thigh. "Take it like a good little cuck." SUMMARY^1: Des positions himself against Bobby, using degrading language while Lucy escalates the psychological torment. He penetrates Bobby despite weak protests, with Emma facilitating silently. The nursing student reacts viscerally as Lucy praises Bobby's compliance, reinforcing his submission through physical and verbal dominance. The clinic's fluorescent lights buzzed louder, bleaching the scene in sterile brightness—Emma's clinical notes, the studen's bitten lip, Lucy's smeared lipstick as she came untouched just from watching. And Bobby? He was floating somewhere beyond shame, his body jerking in time with Des' thrusts, his tiny cock spurting helplessly against the leather belt with a high, broken whine. Des groaned—a deep, satisfied sound—as he buried himself to the hilt. "Fuck," he growled, "you really *are* just a hole." The wet slap of skin echoed off the tiles as Bobby's vision whited out. Dr. Emma's pen froze mid-scribble when Lucy suddenly straddled Bobby's chest, her skirt riding up as she ground against his tear-streaked face. "Clean me up, baby," she ordered, her thighs trembling—not from pleasure, but from the power of it. Des chuckled, his thrusts turning lazy now, possessive. The nursing student's clipboard slipped from her fingers entirely when Lucy arched with a gasp, her fingers twisting in Bobby's curls as she came again—this time with his tongue between her legs, his whimpers vibrating against her. SUMMARY^1: Des achieves orgasm while degrading Bobby, who experiences involuntary physical responses. Lucy then mounts Bobby's face, demanding oral service as Des continues slow thrusts. The nursing student is visibly overwhelmed as Lucy climaxes from the combined domination and Bobby's forced participation. Bobby barely registered the cold wipe Emma used to swab his stomach—sample collected, humiliation quantified—or the way Des finally pulled out with a wet pop, leaving him gaping and slick. All he could focus on was Lucy's heel digging into his thigh as she reached for Des' softening cock, guiding it toward Bobby's swollen lips. "Say thank you," she murmured, her thumb pressing down on his tongue. The taste of salt and leather flooded his mouth as he obediently sucked—not for pleasure, but because even now, his body craved the degradation. The students were breathing hard, their cheeks flushed darker than Bobby's abused ass when Emma finally cleared her throat. "Well," she said, snapping her gloves off, "I believe we've confirmed the hypothesis." Des smirked, tucking himself away with a casual zip as Lucy patted Bobby's damp curls. "Good boy," she purred, though her gaze was already sliding toward her phone—toward the next text, the next man, the next performance. Bobby shut his eyes. Somewhere beneath the ache and the stickiness, beneath the crinkle of his ruined diaper, he felt it—the traitorous twitch of renewed arousal. SUMMARY^1: Emma collects samples while Lucy forces Bobby to orally service Des, reinforcing his conditioned submission. The students react with visible arousal as Emma concludes the session clinically. Lucy's praise is hollow, her attention already shifting to future exploits, while Bobby's body betrays him with another humiliating physical response. SUMMARY^2: Des escalates Bobby's degradation through physical stimulation and penetration, reinforced by Lucy's verbal humiliation. Bobby's involuntary responses confirm his conditioned submission while Emma clinically documents the process. The nursing student observes with fascination as Lucy climaxes from the domination, reinforcing Bobby's role before concluding with forced oral servitude, leaving Bobby visibly broken. Des tossed the belt onto the exam table with a thud, the leather still warm from Bobby's thighs. "Keep it," he said, nodding at the mess between Bobby's legs. "Something to remember me by." Lucy laughed, high and bright, as she snapped a final photo—Bobby's glazed eyes, his swollen lips, the glint of saliva on his chin. The nursing student bit her knuckle, her knees pressing together. Emma merely scribbled another note. "Fascinating," she murmured. "The refractory period appears to be... negligible." The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting everything in a harsh, unflinching glow. Bobby's legs trembled as he tried to sit up, his frilly dress twisted, his diaper sagging. Lucy sighed, tapping her phone screen. "Des, baby, can you grab his party dress? We can't have him leaking on the Uber." Des chuckled, reaching for the pastel pink satin dress adorned with pink and white lace ruffles garment draped over the chair. Bobby flinched when the soft fabric brushed his skin—another layer of humiliation, another costume. Emma adjusted her glasses. "I'll email the full report," she said, as though discussing bloodwork. "Though I doubt you'll need it." Bobby's breath hitched as Lucy leaned in, her perfume cloying, her lips brushing his ear. "Next time," she whispered, "we'll invite the neighbors." His cock twitched again—pathetic, eager. Des laughed loud and cruel, as the door swung shut behind them. SUMMARY^1: Des leaves the belt as a degrading souvenir while Lucy captures Bobby's ruined state. Emma notes his lack of refractory period clinically. Bobby struggles to sit up as Lucy arranges his transport, ensuring further public humiliation in his soiled attire. Emma promises a formal report, underscoring the session's clinical detachment. Lucy whispers plans for escalated exposure, provoking Bobby's involuntary physical response as Des mocks him during their exit. Emma's fingers lingered on the clipboard, her gaze flicking to the nursing students—one flushed, the other gripping the counter like she might collapse. "Debrief in five," she murmured, though her eyes stayed fixed on the damp stain spreading across the exam table paper. Bobby's whimper was muffled by the crinkle of his plastic pants as he curled into himself, his tiny fists clutching the ruffled hem of his dress. nappy ,plastic pants and frilly knickers on dispaly for all to see. Outside, rain began to patter against the clinic windows, a rhythmic counterpoint to the wet sounds still echoing in Bobby's ears. Lucy's heels clicked down the hallway, her laughter mingling with Des' low growl—voices fading, but the humiliation clinging like the scent of latex andp sweat. The younger student finallyin exhaled, her knees bucklingk as she sank onto the abandonedfrilly k stool. "Jesus," she breathed, staring at Bobby's trembling form. "That was... crazy .. shit." SUMMARY^1: Emma dismisses the overwhelmed students while observing Bobby's lingering shame. The rain outside contrasts with the vivid memories of degradation as Lucy and Des depart. The younger student collapses, stunned by the intensity of the session, while Bobby remains curled in his infantilized state. Emma snappedcker her pen against the clipboard,s an her smile sharp as a scalpel. "Take notes," she saidastic, nodding toward Bobby pan's twitching thighs. "ts Section 4.3—'Post-Coital Regression in Adult Infantilism.'" The other student swallowed hard, her fingers shaking as she reached for her own pen. Bobby shut his eyes, the crinkle of his diaper deafening in the sudden silence. Somewhere, a phone buzzed—Lucy's, probably. Another text. Another man. Another night. His tiny cock gave a feeble pulse against the soaked padding. The clinic door creaked open again, letting in the scent of rain and car exhaust. The maure attractive female cleaner paused in the doorway, hermop bucket sloshing as she took in the scene—the ruffled dress, the plastic pants, the way Bobby's breath hitched when Emma's gloved finger traced the outline of his useless little nub. "Uh,,,oh dear she said, blinking.hen stifling a laugh . Emma didn't look up. "Closed for maintenance," she lied smoothly, nudging the belt off the exam table with her shoe. It hit the floor with a thud that made Bobby flinch. Outside, taillights streaked through the wet glass as Lucy's Uber pulled away. Des' laughter lingered in the air like cigar smoke. The younger student finally unfroze, her voice hushed. "What happens to him now?" Emma peeled off her gloves with a snap. "Same as always." She glanced at Bobby, curled fetal in his frills, and sighed. "He'll go home. He'll cry. He'll beg." Her pen hovered over the final checkbox. "And tomorrow, he'll ask for it again." Rain drummed harder now, a steady tattoo against the windows. Bobby's fingers crept toward the belt—the one Des had left behind. The leather was still warm. He pressed it to his cheek and inhaled, his hips jerking in tiny, frantic circles. The student gasped. Emma just smied, jotting down one last note. "Case study concluded," she murmured. "Subject remains... compliant." The cleaner backed away, her mop forgotten. The younger student—Jenna, Bobby remembered suddenly—licked her lips. "Dr. Forbs?" she whispered. "Can I... stay?" Emma arched a brow, then shrugged, handing her the clipboard. Jenna's fingers brushed Bobby's thigh—hesitant, then bold—as she traced the lace trim of his frilly pink satin knickers His breath hitched. Emma's phone buzzed—Lucy's name flashing beside a photo of Des, already shirtless in her bed. "Ah," Emma sighed. "Home improvements." Bobby whimpered as Jenna's fingers dipped beneath the elastic, hernails scraping in a way his thighs tremble. The older student groaned, her now fumbling with scrubs. "Jesus, Em, can we—?" Emma was already at the door, turning the lock with a decisive click. "Ten minutes," she said. Then, softer: "Mind the diaper. He leaks when overstimulated." The rain blurred everything beyond the glass—streaks of neon and headlights, the distant honk of traffic. Inside, though, the clinic ligh hummed, unflinching, as Jenna's breath hit Bobby's neck. "Pathetic," she murmured, but her palm pressed down harder, her hips grinding against the exam table's edge. The other student moaned, her fingers tangled in Bobby's curls, yanking his head back. Somewhere, Emma's pen scratched across paper. The belt forgotten now, slid to the floor with a sound like surrender. Bobby's thighs trembled under Jenna's touch, the wet crinkle of his plastic pants amplifying in the small room. The cleaner had left her mop propped against the door, but no one cared—not when Jenna's teeth sank into Bobby's shoulder, not when the other student gasped, "God, he's *soaking* through," her fingers coming away glistening. Emma adjusted her glasses, clinical, detached, but her pupils dilated as Jenna's nails raked down Bobby's chest. "Fascinating," she murmured, though her knuckles whitened around the clipboard. A knock. Three sharp raps, then silence. Jenna froze, her hand still fisted in Bobby's dress. The other student whimpered, pressing closer, her thigh slippery against Bobby's. Emma exhaled through her nose. "Ignore it," she said, but her eyes flicked to the door—to the shadow stretching beneath it. Another knock. Then a voice, low and rough: "Doc? You in there?" Des. Bobby's stomach lurched. Jenna's grip tightened, her lips curling. "Missed us already?" she called, her free hand slipping beneath the diaper's waistband. Bobby sobbed. Emma's phone buzzed—Lucy's name, again—but this time, the text was just a photo: Bobby's belt, looped around Des' thick wrist, the caption *Forgot something*. The older student moaned, her forehead dropping to Bobby's shoulder. Jenna laughed, high and bright, as the doorknob rattled. "Too late," she singsonged, her fingers working faster. Emma sighed, snapping her gloves back on. "Ten minutes," she repeated, but her gaze lingered on the shadow under the door. Bobby squeezed his eyes shut. The rain kept falling. The clinic lights hummed. The knocking turned to pounding, the door shuddering in its frame. "Open the fuck up," Des growled, his voice muffled but unmistakable. Jenna rolled her eyes, her grip tightening on Bobby’s hips. "Busy," she called back, popping the "s" like bubblegum. The other student giggled, her fingers tangling in Bobby’s curls, yanking his head back to expose his throat. Emma’s pen hovered over her notes, but her breath hitched when Jenna’s thumb brushed the soaked padding between Bobby’s legs. "Christ," she muttered, scribbling something illegible. "Case study *indeed*." The pounding stopped. A beat of silence. Then—a slow, deliberate scrape of metal against the doorframe. Des’ voice dropped to a whisper, oily with promise: "Better hurry, Doc. Lucy’s getting *impatient*." Bobby’s breath hitched, his thighs trembling as Jenna’s nails dug into the soft flesh above his frilly garter. Emma’s clipboard clattered to the floor. The older student whimpered, pressing closer, her lips brushing Bobby’s ear. "He’s *dripping*," she breathed. Outside, the rain blurred everything—streetlights, laughter, the sound of a car door slamming. Jenna’s phone buzzed—Lucy again, this time with a video: Des, shirtless in the Uber, his belt coiled around his fist. The caption read *Coming back for seconds*. Jenna smirked, shoving the screen in Bobby’s face. "Look at that," she purred, her free hand slipping beneath his diaper. "Someone’s *popular*." Bobby’s whimper was lost in the sudden screech of tires outside, the clinic lights flickering as the door shuddered one last time. Emma sighed, peeling off her gloves. "Time’s up," she said, but her eyes never left Jenna’s fingers. The rain kept falling. The belt lay forgotten on the floor.

.Your 're wearing them again, aren't you?" I said, not looking up from the laundry basket. A pair of lace-trimmed pink panties clung to my fingertips, the fabric softer than anything in his side of the drawer. He froze mid-step, barefoot on the tiles, shoulders hunched like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. The silence stretched just long enough for the air conditioner to kick on, humming through the tension. "You smell like baby powder," I added, finally turning to face him. His cheeks flushed that perfect shade of pink—not embarrassment, not shame, but something warmer, needier. His fingers twisted the hem of his t-shirt, riding up just enough to reveal the elastic waistband of something decidedly not boxer-briefs beneath his jeans. I dropped the panties back into the basket and crossed the room in three strides. He didn’t flinch when my thumb hooked into his waistband, tugging just enough to confirm what I already knew. The crinkle was faint but unmistakable—the sound of plastic-pants and cloth padding, the kind they sell in bulk for toddlers. "Started without me," I murmured, lips brushing his ear. His breath hitched. His jeans hit the floor with a clatter of belt buckle on tile. The diaper was pristine white, swollen thick between his thighs, nappy pinns with pink heads in place . My fingers traced the ruffled leg openings of his pale pink sheer bbay knickers , the plastic underneath dimpled under pressure. "You packed it nice and tight," I said. "But you forgot one thing." I tapped the front, right where the padding bulged. Dry. His whimper was half protest, half plea. "right you are staying in ,lets get you ready for bed .His very sexy attractive 37 year old wife went to the wardrobe and quickly returned with a very short pink frilly nightie and taking of the t shhirt slipped the bbaydoll nightie over his head . "You know the rules," I whispered, dragging one fingernail down the center of the diaper until it caught on the nappy pins .. The second pin opened loose , revealing skin flushed damp with trapped heat. The scent of baby lotion and something muskier rose between us as I peeled the padding back. His tiny cock twitched against his stomach, already slick at the tip. He squirmed when I pressed two fingers against his perineum, his thighs trembling. "Shh," I murmured, circling slowly. "Let me feel how bad you need it." His hips jerked when my thumb brushed the swollen curve of his bladder—not full yet, but getting there. The whine that escaped him was high and reedy, the sound of a toddler fighting a nap. Jim’s footsteps in the hallway made him go rigid. I didn’t remove my hand. "Relax," I said, just as the bedroom door creaked open. Jim’s shadow stretched across the tiles, his chuckle low and warm. "Starting without me?" His work boots thudded against the floor as he toed them off. "She’s got you trained already, huh princess?" The cloth diaper sagged open between my husband’s legs as Jim crowded behind me, his belt buckle pressing into my spine. My husband’s gasp was all sharp edges and broken syllables, his hips jerking like a marionette with its strings cut. The scent of warm urine mixed with the powdery sweetness of the diaper’s lining as it darkened between us, the plastic pants crinkling with every shuddering release. Jim’s other hand slid around my waist, undoing my jeans with one practiced twist. "That’s it," he coaxed, pressing his erection into the small of my back. "Good girl, taking care of him." I barely had time to kick my own wet panties aside before Jim spun me around, lifting me onto the dresser with a thud that rattled the perfume bottles. My husband—no, my *baby*—watched from the floor with glassy eyes, his soaked diaper sagging open as his fingers crept toward his tiny, twitching cock. "Ah-ah," Jim tsked, catching his wrist mid-reach. "Babies don’t touch themselves." He tossed a pacifier into his lap instead, grinning when it was popped between trembling lips without protest. Jim’s grip on my hips was brutal as he yanked me to the edge of the dresser, the wood digging into my thighs. I barely had time to register the cold press of lube before he was inside me in one ruthless thrust, stretching me wide in a way my husband never could. The groan that tore from my throat was half-pain, half-relief, my nails scraping grooves into Jim’s shoulders as he set a punishing pace. Below us, my baby whimpered around the pacifier, her—*his*—legs splayed in a puddle of warm plastic and cotton. Her fingers kept twitching toward that pathetic little nub between her legs, but Jim’s warning glare kept them tangled in the ruffled hem of her nightie instead. The sight of her like that—diaper swollen, lace clinging to damp skin, eyes glazed with submission—sent a fresh surge of heat through me. Jim must’ve felt it too because he swore under his breath and fucked me harder, his thumb finding my clit with rough precision. "Look at her," he growled, teeth grazing my earlobe. "She knows her place." And she did. The way her thighs instinctively spread wider when Jim’s boot nudged them apart, the way her pink-painted toes curled against the tiles—every tremble screamed surrender. The pacifier bobbed frantically between her lips as she watched Jim’s cock disappear inside me, her own tiny erection straining uselessly against the soaked padding. A thin trail of pre-cum glistened on her stomach, proof that she was past the point of shame. Jim’s hand fisted in my hair, yanking my head back to watch her too. "See that?" His breath was hot against my throat as his hips snapped forward. "That’s what happens when babies get greedy." He punctuated the words with a brutal thrust that made my vision blur. Below us, her whimper escalated into a full-blown cry, her hips jerking involuntarily as she wet herself again—a hot, desperate gush that pooled beneath her plastic pants. The sound of her sobbing around the pacifier was almost as good as the stretch of Jim inside me. Almost. I reached down to twist my fingers in her hair, forcing her to watch as Jim’s cock glistened with me. "You’ll never feel this," I murmured, thumbing away a tear from her cheek. "But you love watching, don’t you?" Her nod was frantic, the pacifier popping free as she gasped, "Yes, Mommy," before cramming it back in. Jim’s laugh was dark as he pulled me flush against him, his fingers digging bruises into my hips. "She’s dripping," he noted, nodding toward the puddle spreading beneath her. "Like a fucking baby." The crinkle of plastic pants filled the room as she squirmed, her useless little cock twitching against the ruined diaper. I could smell her—warm milk and baby shampoo mixed with something saltier, something desperate. The dresser mirror rattled behind me as Jim’s pace turned jagged, his teeth scraping my shoulder. "Tell her," he demanded, his voice rough. I didn’t hesitate. "You’re never getting out of diapers," I breathed, watching her eyes widen. "Not after this." Her breath hitched, her fingers clawing at the tiles like she might crawl to us if Jim’s boot didn’t pin her in place. The pacifier fell to the floor with a wet clatter as she moaned, her hips jerking in tiny, aborted thrusts. Jim’s hand slid between us, his thumb pressing hard against my clit in time with his thrusts. "She’s leaking again," he noted, nodding at the darkening stain spreading beyond the leg guards of her diaper. I tightened my grip in her hair, forcing her to watch as my back arched. "That’s all you’ll ever do," I panted. "Leak. Like a baby." Her sob turned into a shuddering gasp as her body betrayed her completely, urine soaking the diaper until it sagged between her thighs, the plastic pants gurgling softly with every tremble. The dresser groaned beneath us as Jim’s rhythm faltered, his breath coming in harsh bursts against my neck. "Look at her," he ground out, fingers digging into my hips hard enough to leave marks. "She’s fucking herself on nothing." And she was—her hips jerking erratically, her tiny cock straining against the sodden padding, her mouth open around silent pleas. The sight sent me spiraling, my orgasm hitting like a punch to the gut, my thighs clamping around Jim as I came with a broken cry. Jim followed with a groan, his thrusts turning sloppy as he emptied himself inside me, his forehead pressed to my shoulder. Below us, our baby girl whimpered, her fingers twisting in the ruined lace of her nightie, her diaper sagging grotesquely between her spread thighs. Jim pulled out with a wet sound and stepped back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Clean her up," he said, nodding at the mess on the floor. "Then put her to bed. She’s done." I slid off the dresser, my legs shaky, and crouched in front of her. Her eyes were glazed, her breath hitching in little aftershocks as I peeled the soaked diaper away. The scent of warm urine and baby powder clung to her skin, mingling with the musk of her arousal. I wiped her down with a damp cloth, her thighs trembling under my touch. "Such a mess," I murmured, taping a fresh diaper around her hips. The crinkle of clean plastic echoed in the quiet room. Jim leaned against the bedpost, arms crossed, watching as I dressed her in a fresh pair of ruffled panties sh—pink, like always—and a sheer pink nightie that barely covered the thick padding. She didn’t resist when I lifted her into my arms, her head lolling against myeer shoulder like a drowsy toddler. The nursery waseer just down the hall, itse pastel walls lit by a nightlight shaped like a moon. The crib waited, its bars gleaming faintly in the dim light. I laid her down gently, tucking a plush bunny under her arm. Her eyelids fluttered as I fastened the safety latch—more for ritual than necessity—and smoothed the blanket over her diapered hips. "Goodnight, baby," I whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She sighed around the fresh pacifier I’d slipped between her lips, her fingers curling around the crib bars as if to steady herself in this new, smaller world. Jim’s hand was warm on the small of my back as we stepped into the hallway. "She’ll be out before we hit the bedroom," he murmured, nodding toward the monitor where her breathing was already deepening into sleep rhythms. The camera caught the way her diaper bunched thickly under the blanket, the way her thumb drifted toward her mouth even with the pacifier. I leaned into Jim’s chest, letting his heartbeat steady me. "You were perfect," he said, and for once, I believed him.I'm going to bed dont be long Jim" " "Night night baby girl "as I bent down to to kiss my husband on the cheek smiling . Megan’s door creaked open , her slim 18 year old body silhouette backlit by the nightlight in her room. She padded toward us barefoot, her long blonde flowing , hair and brown eyes unable to betray the smile ,her pink satin robe clinging to her curves. "Heard the fuss," she whispered, peering past us into the nursery. "sorry Megan i hope we didnt wake your ...I'm on just off to bed but feel free to check on my bbay girl" Meagan camera feed flickered on her phone, zooming in on the sleeping figure. "Ohhh," she cooed, biting her lip. "Diaper check?" Her giggle was soft as she tiptoed past us, her fingers already tugging the blanket aside. The crinkle was obscenely loud in the quiet room. Megan’s fingers traced the ruffled leg openings of the frilly knickers and tinto the pastic pants and nappy, her nails scraping just hard enough to make our baby stir. "Shhh," she soothed, thumbing the waistband down to reveal the ruffled pink panties beneath. The front was tented pathetically, damp at the tip. "Babydick," she mouthed, grinning up at us as she gave the tiny bulge a condescending pinch. His hips jerked in his sleep, a whimper escaping around the pacifier. Jim’s chuckl temple. "Christ," he muttered. "Even unconscious." She peeled the panties down with exaggerated slowness, pausing to blow on the flushed skin. His cock twitched like a dying insect, barely two inches of desperate pink flesh. Megan’s laugh was honey-sweet as she flicked it with her middle finger. "Look at it *bounce*," she whispered, demonstrating with another tap. The pacifier popped out as his breath hitched, his toes curling under the blanket. Jim crowded behind Megan, his broad frame dwarfing her as he reached over her shoulder to pinch the tip. A pearl of pre-cum smeared across his thumb. "Fuck," he snorted, wiping it on her robe. "That’s not even enough to *spit* on." Megan twisted to grin up at him, her fingers now idly circling the base of his—her—tiny erection. "Should we wake him?" she murmured, thumbing the leaking slit. The panties and nappie bunched around his thighs as Megan tugged them lower, the silky satin catching on his damp diaper. His hips twitched in shallow thrusts, chasing her fingers even in sleep. "Look at him," she giggled, pressing two fingers against the underside where his pathetic length strained upward. "He’s trying so *hard*." she said with a chuckle Megangripped it between his thumb and forefinger like a used cigarette. "Pathetic," she muttered, giving it a condescending jerk that made his toes curl. A thin trail of pre-cum dribbled down Jim’s fingers as he released it, the tiny erection bobbing weakly against his stomach. Megan leaned in, blowing softly until it trembled, her laughter bubbling up when he whined in his sleep. "Watch this," she whispered, pinching the very tip—just enough to make his legs jerk. The diaper crinkled violently as he bucked, his breath coming in little hitches. "Babies don’t get to come," she sing-songed, tracing the vein underneath with one sharp nail. She traced the swollen tip with one manicured nail, her grin widening when a fresh bead of pre-cum welled up. "Aww," she cooed, thumbing it away. "It’s trying so hard." His breath hitched around the pacifier, his thighs trembling as she blew a cool stream of air across his flushed skin. The panties clung to his damp erection like a second skin, the lace trim catching on the wetness leaking down his shaft. Megan’s giggle turned breathless as she snapped the waistband against his hipbone, watching his whole body flinch. Jim leaned in, his shadow swallowing the crib. "Look at that," he muttered, flicking the pathetic length with his middle finger. It twitched violently, the nylon tenting obscenely with each heartbeat. Megan caught Jim’s wrist, guiding his hand to squeeze the meager bulge. "Feel how *small* it is?" she whispered, her voice dripping with saccharine mockery. Jim’s snort was loud enough to make their baby whimper, his fingers clawing at the mattress as they groped him through the silk. She flicked the straining length with her thumb, making it bounce against his stomach. "Does it hurt, baby?" Megan cooed, her nail tracing the vein underneath. His whimper was answer enough. The plstic panties,frilly knickers with the lace trim digging into his trembling thighs. Megan peeled the panties down fully to his ankles , exposing the flushed, leaking tip. A bead of pre-cum trembled before dripping onto the diaper beneath. "Oh no," she gasped, pinching the slit shut with two fingers. His hips jerked violently, the diaper crinkling like crumpling cellophane. "Babies aren’t supposed to *leak*," she scolded, flicking his twitching cock with her nail. His breath hitched around the pacifier, tears welling as she snapped the waistband back into place with a cruel smirk. Megan giggled, she pulled up his nappy and plastic pants twisting her fingers in the lace, pulling the panties tighter up over the nappy and pants until his tiny length strained visibly through the damp fabric of the pink satin . "Look," she whispered, tapping the tip where it tented the silk. "It’s *begging*." His whimper was muffled, his thighs trembling as her nail traced the outline through the nylon. The diaper crinkled obscenely as Megan peeled his panties back down and removing the plastic pants and nappy it away, tossing the soaked padding aside. She wiped him down with practiced efficiency, her fingers lingering just long enough to make him squirm. The drawer squeaked as she rummaged for the frilliest pair—pink lace with satin ribbons, the kind meant for dolls. "legs up, baby," she cooed, slipping a fresh nappy beneath him repinning into place then gathered up a nothe rpair of noisey crinkly plastic baby pants pulling them high over hhis fesh nappy .Taking hold of the frilly knicker hlding them uo to the dim light smiling "oooohh look at these baby girl so pretty and frilly " she puled them him over his ankles. The ruffles brushed his thighs as she tugged them up, the elastic snug against his hips. Megan’s nappy change had to be evidence ,the freshly taken photos—each one a cruel close-up of his tiny erection straining against the silk. The flash had caught every detail: the flushed tip, the bead of pre-cum clinging to lace, the way his thighs trembled when she pinched him through the fabric. Megan twisted her fingers in the waistband, yanking the panties tighter for another shot. "Say cheese," she whispered, framing the tented silk with her phone. His whimper was almost lost under the shutter sound. The ribbons tickled his inner thighs as Megan adjusted the satin bow just above his erection, her nails scraping lightly over the sensitive skin. "You’re gonna wear these tomorrow," she murmured, tapping the screen she had already uploaded the photos to her freinds shared whatsapp album. "And every time you leak, I'm adding another layer." Megan’s giggle was sharp as she snapped the waistband again, watching his hips jerk. "Maybe pink tights next," she mused. "and a pretty pink short baby dress With ruffles. to show off your frilly knickers " The pacifier bobbed uselessly between his lips as Megan slid her hand across the pink satin and lace bay knickers patting them and rubbing them, the crinkle echoing in the quiet nursery. her fingers traced the lace edge of the panties, pressing just hard . "Think he’ll last till morning?" Jim muttered,. Megan’s shrug was all "Doubt it," she whispered, patting the thick padding with a condescending smile. "Babies never do." Jim scrolled through the photos again, zooming in on the close-up of his strained erection tenting the pink silk. "Should print these," he mused, tapping the screen. "Frame ’em above the changing table.". Right sissy I'm going to bed with yiur wife ,shes going to get it aagin she loves it so you lay there and be agood bbay girl understand" Megan giggled she looked at the carpet and peeled the damp panties off the floor by the cot —his wife’s discarded white silky nylon , and held them up with a grin. "Gonna send these photos to the group chat," she murmured, stretching the lace taut between her fingers. The scent of sex and salt clung to the fabric as she draped them over his forehead like a veil, his whimper muffled by the pacifier. From the master bedroom, the rhythmic thump of the headboard syncopated with his wife’s broken moans, each one a nail in the coffin of his masculinity. Megan blew him a kiss. "Tell the girls you say hi." His thighs trembled as she snapped a photo—his face framed by his wife’s stained underwear, the crib bars casting prison-stripe shadows across his tear-streaked cheeks. The flash caught the way his fingers clawed at the blanket and at his knickers to reveal his tiny erection strained pathetically outside the kleg opening against the pink satin ribbons. Megan’s thumbs flew across her screen, tagging her sorority sisters, captioning it *Guess who’s our new dorm mascot?* The first reply pinged instantly: a chorus of laughing emojis and *OMG IS THAT REAL??* She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear as she pressed the damp silk tighter over his nose and mouth. "Breathe deep, baby," she cooed, inhaling sharply herself—the scent of his wife’s arousal and Jim’s musk clinging to the fabric. The headboard thumped louder through the wall, punctuated by a broken moan that made his hips jerk. Megan giggled, twisting the panties into a gag and knotting them behind his head. "Shhh," she whispered, patting the swollen bulge in his frilly panties. " Sshhhh baby girl Your wife is busy getting a good fucking*." The phone screen glowed in her palm as she swiped through the photos—his tear-streaked face framed by lace, the close-up of his pathetic erection tenting the pink sat. Her thumbs flew over the keyboard, sending them to a group chat titled *Daddy’s Little Helpers*. Replies flooded in instantly: *LMAO IS THAT A CLIT?* and *Need a microscope for that thing!* Megan bit her lip, ling the camera to capture the way his thighs trembled as another moan echoed from the bedroom. The flash caught the wet spot blooming the tip of his pantie just as a new message popped up: *Bring him to Rush Week.* The discarded silk clung to his face, still warm from his wife’s body, the scent of her arousal and Jim’s sweat soaking into every thread. Megan pressed them tighter over his nose with a giggle, inhaling deeply herself. “Mmm, smell that?” she whispered, as the headboard slammed against the wall in a relentless rhythm. His hips jerked involuntarily, the diaper crinkling beneath him, while Megan’s phone buzzed nonstop—screenshot after screenshot of sorority sisters zooming in on his humiliation. Someone had already set one as their profile pic. She peeled the panties away just enough to snap a close-up of his tear-streaked face, the lace imprinting little diamonds on his flushed skin. “Hold still, babygirl,” she murmured, angling the phone to capture the way his tiny erection strained against the frilly pink panties, damp with pre-cum. The shutter clicked again—another photo for the group chat, another round of laughing emojis flooding her screen. Someone had started a poll: *How many inches?* The leading answer was *LOL dollhouse furniture.* " about two inches" megan replied The panties smelled like his wife—like sweat and sex and the coconut shampoo she used—and Megan pressed them back over his nose with a grin. “Deep breaths,” she whispered, mimicking the rhythm of the headboard pounding through the wall. His hips jerked involuntarily, the diaper cr inkling beneath him, while Megan scrolled through the replies—*OMG IS THAT A REAL PENIS?* and *Looks like a clit with commitment issues.* She giggled, twisting the fabric into a gag and knotting it tight behind his head. “Shhh, baby.... The adults are *busy*.” Her phone buzzed nonstop—screenshot after screenshot of her college friends zooming in on his humiliation, tagging each other with crying-laughing emojis. Someone had already photoshopped his tiny erection onto a dollhouse chair with the caption *Perfect fit!* Megan blew him a kiss before snapping one last photo—his tear-streaked face framed by his wife’s stained underwear, the crib bars casting prison-stripe shadows across his cheeks. The flash caught the wet spot blooming at the tip of his frilly panties just as another moan broke through the wall. She pulled the damp silk tighter over his nose, her thumb tracing the lace where his wife’s scent clung thickest. "Breathe deep, baby," she murmured, her own breath hitching as Jim’s grunts syncopated with the headboard’s relentless rhythm. His hips jerked involuntarily, the diaper crinkling beneath him, while Megan’s fingers twisted the panties into a gag. "Shhh," she whispered against his ear, her teeth grazing the lobe. "Daddy’s *busy* ruining Mommy’s pussy." The phone screen glowed in her palm as she swiped through the photos—his tear-streaked face framed by lace, his pathetic erection tenting the pink satin—before tapping *send* with a flourish. Replies flooded in instantly: *OMG IS THAT A REAL PENIS?* and *Looks like a clit with commitment issues.* Megan giggled, pinching the sodden fabric between his thighs. "They think you’re *adorable*," she cooed, snapping another shot of his trembling legs. Someone had already photoshopped his tiny erection onto a dollhouse chair with the caption *Perfect fit!*

it's almost impossible to find a booster in my area, the only way for me to get a booster is shop online and it's take about 2-3 days to arrive. Is there someone that have been using baby diaper as a booster here, im thinking about removing the velcro and the trims, but i didn't found a way to attach it to my diaper. If the condition needs me to have 2 booster i could just sew and punchure the back cloth then sew them together but i didn't found anything that gonna hold them on my diaper good enough other than sew the booster diaper my diaper

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

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

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

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

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