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Author's Note Hi! I'm Nicky, and I'm thrilled to join the Daily Diapers Community. Writing has been a passion of mine for many years, and over time, I've created numerous drafts and story ideas on ABDL that I've kept to myself—until now. I finally gathered the courage to share something, and I truly hope you enjoy it. I'm looking forward to connecting with fellow ABDL here. 😊 ____________________________________________________________________________ The Web of Lies is a psychological thriller about trust, manipulation, and the slow unraveling of a seemingly perfect life. Alan, a confident and successful man in his 40s, begins to notice strange things happening—small accidents, unexpected loss of control, and concerns raised by his wife, Lisa, about his health. At first, they seem like minor worries, but they slowly grow into a pattern that makes Alan question himself and his ability to stay dry. The story explores how care can become control and how easy it is to doubt your own reality when someone you love plants those doubts. This is a story about the power of suggestion and how even the strongest minds can be tested when trust is twisted. It’s a gripping tale that will keep readers guessing at every turn. Enjoy! 🙃 P.S Comments are much appreciated! ____________________________________________________________________________ Chapter 1: The Waiting Room Alan sat on a stiff leather chair in the pristine waiting room of Dr. Hargrove’s office. The walls were painted a muted, calming gray, adorned with abstract art that didn’t quite command attention. The faint hum of the air conditioning filled the silence, occasionally interrupted by the muted voices of the receptionist on the phone or the shuffle of a patient’s feet down the hallway. Across the room, a small fountain gurgled softly, its soothing sound doing little to ease Alan’s tension. The clock on the wall ticked steadily, each second dragging on longer than the last. Alan glanced at his watch, its familiar face offering no comfort, and then at the closed door leading to the doctor’s office. His knee bounced anxiously, a nervous rhythm that betrayed the calm façade he tried to maintain. He wasn’t supposed to be here, he thought. This wasn’t his life. His world revolved around work deadlines, weekend barbecues, and the occasional round of golf. He was the guy everyone called when they needed a laugh or a drinking buddy, not the one sitting outside a doctor’s office, waiting to hear about someone else’s medical troubles. Yet here he was, summoned by Lisa’s concerned tone and Alan’s unspoken distress. Alan leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as his gaze wandered over the room. He noticed the small details now, the way his mind always did when he was trying to distract himself: the slight scuff on the baseboard near the door, the stack of outdated magazines on the low glass coffee table, the faint smell of antiseptic that lingered beneath the air conditioning. He let his eyes close for a moment, trying to make sense of it all. How did it come to this? Alan, his best friend, had always been the confident one—the guy who seemed to have everything together. Yet over the past two months, something had shifted. Alan couldn’t pinpoint when it started, but looking back, the signs were there. One memory led to another, each connected like a breadcrumb trail. And it all started two months ago, on that seemingly perfect morning. *Flashback* The day had started peacefully. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows of their modern kitchen, illuminating the marble countertops and the gleaming stainless-steel appliances. Alan sat at the breakfast table, his coffee steaming beside him as he scrolled through his phone. His focus was split between work emails and the calendar notification reminding him of his packed schedule. It was the kind of morning that felt routine, unremarkable—until Lisa called his name. “Alan,” her voice came from the laundry room, gentle but carrying an edge of something he couldn’t quite place. He barely looked up. “Yeah?” “Can you come here for a second?” she asked, her tone shifting slightly—soft, yet insistent. Alan sighed, setting his phone down as he stood. He walked to the laundry room, where Lisa stood by the counter, her blonde hair neatly tied back, the faint scent of her citrus shampoo filling the air. She was holding something in her hand, her fingers pinching the edges delicately, like it might fall apart. “These were in the laundry,” she said, lifting a pair of his white briefs for him to see. Alan froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing. “What about them?” Lisa hesitated, her expression a careful mix of concern and discomfort. She tilted the briefs toward him. “There’s… a stain.” Alan moved closer, his heart skipping a beat as he saw what she was pointing to. A faint yellowish blotch marred the otherwise pristine fabric, spreading in the center like an unwelcome accusation. His face flushed. “That can’t be mine.” Lisa tilted her head slightly, her soft blue eyes locking onto his. “Alan, it was in your side of the hamper.” “Well, I didn’t do that,” he snapped, snatching the briefs from her hand and holding them up as though examining them closer might make the stain disappear. “It’s probably detergent or something. Maybe it didn’t rinse properly.” Lisa’s expression didn’t change. If anything, her concern seemed to deepen. “Maybe,” she said slowly, her tone calm and measured. “But it doesn’t look like detergent to me.” Alan tossed the briefs onto the counter, feeling his frustration mount. “I would know if something like that happened, Lisa. This is ridiculous.” She placed a gentle hand on his arm, her touch light but steady. “Alan, I know this is uncomfortable to talk about, but things like this happen sometimes. Especially if you’ve been under stress.” “I’m not under stress,” he said sharply, pulling his arm away. “I don’t have—whatever it is you’re implying.” Lisa blinked, stepping back slightly as though his reaction had startled her. “I’m not implying anything. I’m just saying, if something’s going on, it’s better to catch it early. That’s all.” Alan stared at her, his mind racing. Was she serious? Did she actually think…? He shook his head, grabbing the briefs again and tossing them into the laundry basket. “There’s nothing going on. It’s just a stain, okay? End of story.” Lisa nodded slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Okay,” she said softly, her voice almost apologetic. “I just don’t want you to feel embarrassed if it happens again.” “It’s not going to happen again because it didn’t happen in the first place,” Alan muttered, storming out of the laundry room and back to the kitchen. As he sat down at the table, Alan’s thoughts churned. He picked up his coffee but didn’t drink it, staring instead at the swirling steam. Lisa’s voice echoed in his mind. Stress. Things like this happen sometimes. It didn’t make sense. He was healthy, active. Sure, work was demanding, but it wasn’t like he was losing sleep over it. Wasn’t he? He shook his head, trying to push the thought away. Lisa was probably just overreacting. She worked in healthcare, after all. Nurses were trained to see problems even where there weren’t any, always looking for signs of trouble. That’s all this was, he told himself—Lisa being overly cautious. Nothing more. Lisa watched him from the doorway, her arms folded loosely across her chest. Her face betrayed no emotion, but inside, she was already thinking ahead. The first step was always the most delicate, but it had gone exactly as she’d hoped. A little stain, a little concern, just enough to make him doubt himself. She could tell by the way he stormed out that she’d struck a nerve. Her lips curved into a faint smile as she turned back to the laundry, picking up the briefs again and tossing them into the wash. It wasn’t about the stain itself—it never was. It was about planting the seed, a tiny whisper in his mind that something might be wrong. All she had to do now was water it. *End of Flashback* Alan leaned forward in his seat in the waiting room, staring at the floor tiles as memories rolled through his mind like a film on loop. His knee bounced restlessly, a steady rhythm that betrayed the calm he tried to project. His hand drifted to the edge of the chair, gripping it tightly as he recalled the golf course incident—an otherwise normal day that had spiraled into something else entirely. *Flashback* The sun was warm on his back, the breeze cool and refreshing as it rustled through the trees lining the course. Alan had always loved golfing with Poll. It was one of the few places where he could unwind, leave behind the endless emails and meetings that occupied his weekdays, and simply exist. That day had been no different—or at least, it hadn’t started out that way. “Two strokes ahead already?” Poll said, shaking his head as he set down his club. “You’re showing off, man. Stop making me look bad.” Alan laughed, adjusting his cap as they walked to the next hole. “Maybe you need to practice more instead of blaming me.” Poll groaned theatrically, grabbing his iced tea from the cart and taking a long sip. “Practice? That’s for people who don’t have natural talent.” Alan smirked, lining up his shot. He took a deep breath, grounding himself in the rhythm of the game, and swung. The satisfying crack of the ball echoed, and Poll let out an exaggerated whistle as it soared across the course, landing near the green. “Show-off,” Poll muttered, grinning. “You’re lucky I’m such a good sport.” “Just admit I’m better,” Alan shot back, leaning on his club. The banter continued as they finished the first nine holes and parked the cart near the clubhouse for a quick break. They found a small outdoor table with a view of the course, and Alan stretched his legs, letting the breeze cool him down. Poll was in high spirits, gesturing wildly as he recounted a story about a disastrous flight he’d been on. “So, I’m sitting there,” Poll said, waving his iced tea for emphasis, “and the guy next to me starts sneezing. I’m thinking, great, I’m catching something. Then—” Poll’s hand clipped the edge of his glass, and the tea tipped forward in slow motion, splashing across the table and onto Alan’s lap. “Damn it!” Poll exclaimed, grabbing napkins. “Sorry, man. My bad.” Alan stood quickly, brushing at the cold, wet fabric. “It’s fine,” he said, chuckling lightly. “It’s just tea. No harm done.” “Still, let me—” Poll started, but Alan waved him off. Alan wiped at his pants, trying to make light of it. He wasn’t thrilled to be walking around with damp pants, but it wasn’t the end of the world. These things happened. Poll was about to let it go when he spotted Lisa walking toward them. She was carrying her tote bag, dressed in a breezy summer dress that looked effortless but undoubtedly wasn’t. She flashed them both a smile as she approached. “Hey, you two,” she said brightly. “Who’s winning?” “Don’t ask,” Poll muttered, grinning. “He’s wiping the floor with me.” Lisa laughed, her eyes shifting to Alan. She hesitated for just a fraction of a second, her smile fading slightly. “Alan, what happened?” “Poll got excited and spilled his tea,” Alan said, his tone light. “No big deal.” Lisa’s gaze dropped to his lap, lingering there a moment too long. “Are you sure it’s just tea?” she asked, her voice soft, concerned. Alan’s smile faltered. “Of course it’s tea,” he said, his tone sharpening. “What else would it be?” Lisa stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I’m just asking. I don’t want you to feel embarrassed if it’s… something else.” “It’s tea, Lisa,” Alan snapped, louder this time. “That’s it.” Poll shifted uncomfortably in his seat, feeling the tension rise like a storm cloud. He decided to step in. “Hey, she’s just looking out for you, man. No need to bite her head off.” Alan shot him a look, his jaw tightening. “I don’t need anyone looking out for me.” Lisa held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay,” she said softly. “I just wanted to check. That’s all.” Alan muttered something under his breath and walked toward the restroom, his chest tight with frustration. He didn’t even need to use the bathroom, but he needed to get away from the table, from Lisa’s quiet scrutiny and Poll’s awkward silence. Inside the cool, tiled bathroom, Alan leaned against the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. His face was flushed, his jaw clenched. The tea spill had been a harmless accident, but Lisa’s words clung to him like a second skin. “Are you sure it’s just tea?” she’d asked. What kind of question was that? Did she actually think he’d…? Alan shook his head, gripping the edge of the sink. He was healthy. He’d never had an issue like that in his life. The very idea was ridiculous. But the longer he stared at his reflection, the more the doubt crept in. Lisa wasn’t the type to overreact, he told himself. She was a nurse, trained to notice problems before they became serious. Maybe she saw something he didn’t. Maybe— Alan shook his head again, harder this time. No. There was nothing wrong. It was tea. That was it. He wasn’t going to let Lisa’s overactive imagination make him question himself. He straightened, splashed cold water on his face, and forced himself to take a deep breath. When he returned to the table, he plastered on a smile, ignoring the way Lisa’s eyes lingered on him as he sat down. The rest of the game passed in strained silence, the easy camaraderie of earlier completely gone. Alan tried to focus on his swing, on the feel of the club in his hands, but his mind kept drifting back to Lisa’s question and the nagging doubt it had left behind. *End of Flashback* His phone buzzed in his pocket, snapping him out of his thoughts. He pulled it out, glancing at the screen: no new messages. Just a phantom vibration, or maybe his own anxiety playing tricks on him. He shoved the phone back into his pocket, his jaw tightening. His mind drifted back to the golf course. He couldn’t seem to let it go. The moment had been so innocuous, so ordinary—Poll knocking over a glass, tea spilling onto his pants. A harmless accident. Yet somehow, Lisa had managed to turn it into something else entirely. Are you sure it’s just tea? The words played on a loop in his head, each repetition chipping away at his confidence. What had she meant by that? Did she really think he’d wet himself? The absurdity of it was almost laughable, but it didn’t feel funny. It felt invasive, like she’d reached into his mind and planted a thought he didn’t want to acknowledge. And then there was the way she’d looked at him—like she was trying to see past his words, to something hidden beneath the surface. It wasn’t concern; it was something sharper, more probing. Alan shifted in his seat, the stiff leather squeaking beneath him. He hated how much power that single moment seemed to hold over him now. The way Lisa had asked the question—softly, almost innocently—made him feel like denying it was a defense in itself. Like by saying, It’s just tea, he was confirming her suspicion. Why didn’t I just let it go? he thought. Maybe if he’d laughed it off instead of snapping at her, the moment wouldn’t be stuck in his head like this. Maybe she wouldn’t have looked at him like she knew something he didn’t. But that wasn’t it, was it? The moment wasn’t stuck because of how he’d reacted—it was stuck because of how she’d framed it. She’d made him question something he hadn’t even considered. She’d made him doubt himself. His jaw tightened as the memory burned in his mind. Was that her goal? Was she trying to get under his skin? Or worse… what if she was right? Yes, of course, she’s right. Why else would he be sitting here in the doctor’s office if there wasn’t something to it? Alan’s mind shifted to another moment, weeks after the golf course incident. The dinner party. He’d almost forgotten about it—pushed it out of his mind, really—but now, sitting in the waiting room, it came rushing back with startling clarity. *Flashback* It had been a posh evening, the kind Lisa loved to orchestrate. Their friends filled the house with laughter and conversation, wine glasses clinking, the warm aroma of roasted vegetables and garlic wafting from the kitchen. Alan had been in his element, chatting with Poll and a couple of others, feeling the buzz of good food and good company. “Alan,” Lisa had called from the kitchen, her voice light and cheerful. “Can you grab the wine from the fridge?” “On it,” he’d replied, heading into the kitchen with an easy stride. He liked helping out during these gatherings; it made him feel like he was part of the team, not just the host. He opened the fridge, his fingers wrapping around the chilled bottle. As he turned, his elbow caught the edge of a glass on the counter. The water spilled before he could catch it, splashing onto the front of his shirt and pants. “Damn it,” he muttered, grabbing a towel from the counter to dab at the wet spot. It wasn’t a big deal—the water would dry—but he still felt a pang of annoyance. He hated looking anything less than put-together, especially in front of their friends. Before he could finish drying off, Lisa appeared in the doorway, her brow furrowing as her gaze dropped to his pants. “What happened?” she asked, her tone concerned but with a trace of something else he couldn’t quite place. “Nothing,” Alan said, brushing it off. “I knocked over a glass. Just water.” Lisa stepped closer, her eyes fixed on the darkened patch of fabric. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice soft, almost hesitant. Alan froze, the towel hovering over his shirt. “What do you mean, am I sure?” he asked, his irritation bubbling to the surface. “It’s water, Lisa. What else would it be?” “I just…” She hesitated, her eyes meeting his with a mix of pity and caution. “I just wanted to make sure. I don’t want you to feel ...” Alan snapped, his voice rising. “It’s water. That’s it.” Lisa’s expression softened, her lips curving into a small, apologetic smile. “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” “You didn’t upset me,” he muttered, turning back toward the living room. “I’m fine.” Lisa didn’t say anything as he walked away, but Alan could feel her gaze on his back, lingering like an unwanted touch. Alan’s jaw clenched as he walked back into the living room, his damp pants still clinging uncomfortably to his legs. He could feel the weight of his friends’ eyes on him as he approached the dining area. Conversations had continued, laughter still punctuating the air, but he was certain it had been quieter when he entered. Too quiet. Like they had been talking about him. “Everything okay, Alan?” Poll asked, his tone casual, but Alan swore there was something behind the words—a touch of concern or curiosity that made his skin prickle. “Fine,” Alan said quickly, waving a dismissive hand. “Just knocked over a glass.” He sat down in his chair, forcing a smile, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that their laughter and whispers weren’t as carefree as they’d been before. His gaze darted to the group across the table, who were leaning toward one another, their voices hushed. Were they glancing at him? No, they couldn’t be—but it felt like they were. Lisa appeared behind him, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. “Alan,” she said softly, her voice pitched low so only he could hear, “why don’t you go upstairs and change? You’ll feel more comfortable.” “I’m fine,” he muttered, his jaw tight. “Alan,” she insisted, her fingers squeezing his shoulder gently. “You’ll feel better if you’re not sitting in wet pants. And… I don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.” His head snapped toward her, his eyes narrowing. “The wrong idea? It’s water, Lisa. Everyone knows that.” “Of course they do,” she said quickly, her tone soothing, almost placating. “But you know how people can be. It’s better to avoid any… misunderstandings.” Alan felt a flash of heat rise to his cheeks—not from embarrassment, but from anger. Why was she making such a big deal out of this? Why was she making him feel like it was a big deal? Still, he couldn’t argue without drawing more attention. “Fine,” he said curtly, standing abruptly. He ignored the glance Poll shot him and made his way upstairs, his shoulders stiff with tension. *End of Flashback* He’d tried to forget about it after that, but the moment had stuck with him, festering in the back of his mind. Why had she asked if he was sure? Did she think he couldn’t tell the difference between water and something else? Or was it another one of those “concerns” she couldn’t seem to stop voicing lately? The more he thought about it, the angrier he felt. It wasn’t just the question—it was the way she’d asked it, like she was planting a seed of doubt and waiting to see if it would grow. And the worst part? It had grown. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, even now, weeks later. It gnawed at him, made him feel like he was being scrutinized in ways he didn’t fully understand. He hated how much control those moments seemed to have over him now. The golf course, the dinner party, even the damn laundry stain—it all felt connected somehow, like pieces of a puzzle he didn’t want to solve. Am I overthinking this? he wondered. Or is she really doing this on purpose? The clock on the wall ticked steadily, its rhythm blending with the hum of the air conditioning. Alan’s jaw clenched as the memories looped in his mind, each one heavier than the last. Why can’t I just let it go? But deep down, he knew why. It wasn’t just the moments themselves—it was the way they made him feel. Like he was losing control. Like the ground beneath his feet wasn’t as solid as it used to be. And that was what scared him the most. ____________________________________________________ To be continued ____________________________________________________

Looking for friends in Oceanside or surrounding areas 🥹

I’m new to writing so let me know what you think ☺️ Chapter 1 Jayne finds herself on an airplane, soaring high in the vast expanse of the sky. The sense of freedom and solitude envelops her as she is the only passenger on this plane. Soft, fluffy blankets surround her, swaddling her like dollops of whipped cream. The comforting embrace of the blankets brings her a profound sense of security and contentment. The blankets seem to stretch infinitely, taking up the entire plane, and Jayne feels as if she's floating on a cloud. As the plane ascends higher and higher, a delightful rush of butterflies flutters in her stomach, filling her with pure joy and exhilaration. The sensation of elevating in the sky, unburdened and weightless, is an experience she relishes. The enchanting melody of "Let it flow" by Spiritualized plays in the background, its gentle notes adding to the dreamlike atmosphere. With each passing moment, Jayne's heart dances to the rhythm of the song, amplifying the euphoria she feels. "Here it comes and then it goes And that feeling takes me home And I don't know where I'm goin' Let it flow" As the plane starts its descent, Jayne can't help but giggle with delight. The excitement of the downward shift fills her with a thrilling sensation. She feels as if she's on an adventure, descending into a world of pure bliss and ecstasy. The dream takes her to a place of complete release and surrender, where she lets go of all inhibitions and embraces the flow. Suddenly, Jayne is jolted awake by the song continuing from her alarm clock. "Let it flow..." Her heart still races with the remnants of the dream's euphoria. She realizes that her bladder is full, and she rushes to the bathroom. The relief she experiences as she uses the bathroom is similar to what she felt in her dream. Jayne, is a 30-year-old girl, free spirited, creative designer at a large gaming company. Slim and tone in posture, she has undergone a transformation in recent years, becoming more conscious of her health and well-being. This all thanks to her partner Ryan, who does marathon runs alongside his day job. Their one year relationship has been a catalyst for positive change, as she found herself motivated to adopt healthier habits. Long runs have become a regular part of Jayne's routine. She finds running to be relaxing. On the weekends she likes to unwind and make her runs a little more entertaining. This entertainment is fueled by vaping some of her favorite sativa weed. She enjoys the rush of endorphins and the melodic vibrations that flutter with each stride during her elevated run. In this headspace she is able to achieve not just a runner's high, but instead, the best of both worlds. The joy of running has become her therapy, allowing her to clear her mind and find solace in the rhythm of her feet hitting the ground. In addition to running, Jayne has embraced yoga as a way to balance her physical and mental well-being. She's discovered the transformative power of yoga, not only for its physical benefits but also for the sense of inner peace and mindfulness it brings to her life. Her wardrobe has also evolved to reflect her active lifestyle. Yoga pants have become a staple, not just for their comfort, but as a symbol of her commitment to a healthier and more balanced lifestyle. With Ryan away on an offsite project for the past six months, Jayne has found herself facing the challenges that typically come from a long-distance relationship. In the past, she had struggled with long distance relationships, but this time, she was determined to approach it differently. She knew that maintaining her fitness routine was more crucial than ever, as it not only kept her physically healthy but also helped her cope with the emotional distance between her and Ryan. Jayne has had to learn to trust and be patient, giving Ryan the space and understanding that he's immersed in his offsite project. The sporadic communication has made her anxious at times, but she's reminded herself that Ryan's dedication to his work was one of the things she admired about him. This past month, Jayne has struggled with feelings of uncertainty as Ryan has been really out of touch in communication. She has been trying to get herself to understand that the sporadic check-ins are likely due to his busy schedule, and she that she needs to trust in their relationship. Jayne's morning began like any other as she prepared for her remote workday from the comfort of her downtown apartment on the 33rd floor. Stretching and yawning, she embraced the tranquility of her living space with a sense of calm and purpose. Her cozy apartment was adorned with soft furnishings and elegant touches, creating a serene ambiance that inspired her creativity. After freshening up in the bathroom, Jayne made her way to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Today, she was in the mood for a delicious omelette. But as she reached for the vegetables in her fridge, she realized she was out. Undeterred, Jayne decided to take a quick trip downstairs and a couple of blocks over to the morning farmers market. The prospect of getting fresh, organic vegetables excited her, and it was the perfect excuse to take a short break and savor the beauty of the city before diving into her work. Stepping outside her apartment building, Jayne felt the city's vibrant energy enveloping her. The sound of distant traffic and the chatter of people bustling about created a symphony of urban life. With a spring in her step, she strolled down the bustling streets towards the farmers market. As she reached the market, she was greeted by an array of colorful stalls, each offering a delightful selection of fruits and vegetables. The sights and scents of fresh produce invigorated her senses, and she relished the opportunity to engage with local vendors and support the community. Jayne carefully selected the ripest tomatoes, crisp bell peppers, and vibrant greens for her omelette. With her bag filled with the freshest ingredients, she made her way back to her apartment, feeling a sense of fulfillment and contentment. On her walk back to the apartment she decided to stop into her go-to pharmacy, Trust Pharnacy, which is convientally situated at ground floor of her apartment complex. She loves this pharmacy as it's always well stocked with her preferred zero-waste feminine products. This time around she notices that it's not only those products that are well stocked at this pharmacy. As she walked around, she found out that they moved her aisle to the back of the store and she had to traverse two different incontinence aisles. One of which looked like it was dedicated to single packaged adult diapers and the other for larger packages. As Jayne explored the back of the store, she noticed that her aisle had been moved to a more discreet location, hidden away from the main shopping area. She had to navigate through two different incontinence aisles to find her desired products. One aisle displayed single packaged adult diapers, while the other held larger packages. As Jayne approached her aisle, she couldn't help but notice a striking girl, who appeared to be around her age, refilling the diapers on the shelf. She notices the girl's posture and body form. Jayne is envious of how round and plump her ass is. Even after Jayne's rigorous squat routine for her workouts she has nothing on this employee's ass. This girl had a radiant smile, adorned with braces that Jayne found oddly attractive. Her name tag read "Aria" "Excuse me, could you help me get this pad brand?" Jayne asked. "Sure thing! Let me grab the..." Aria's reply was cut short by the store intercom broadcasting her number for clocking out. "I thought this time would never come. I can finally clock out" sighed Aria. She mentioned that she had worked overtime and was finally being relieved. "I'll be right back I have to get the right keys for this shelf" Aria said as she sped out of the aisle. Jayne found Aria's behavior peculiar as she hurriedly passed her, seemingly fidgety and eager to leave. It seemed that there was more to Aria's excitement than just the end of her shift, and Jayne couldn't help but be intrigued. Less than a minute later, Jayne hears footsteps advancing closer to her and sees Aria speed back into the aisle. Aria steps up on a short step stool and reaches for the flap to unlock the shelf and flips it up. "Is it this one?" Aria asked. "It's actually the one next to it that is almost out" replied Jayne. Aria seems to be bouncy in her posture. Since there was only one package of the pads left, Aria had to go on her tipy toes to reach for it. Jayne notices that she is bouncing her heals on the stool like she is jump roping without lifting her feetoff the ground. Suddenly an "ahhhhh" sigh softly exits Aria's lips. There is a sudden pause as Aria freezes with her arms deep in the shelf. After about 5 seconds of being frozen, Aria carefully steps down the stool and hands Jayne the pads. Aria looks at Jayne with a spacey gaze says "Here you go, have a good rest of your day!" Jayne sees Aria take off her apron and walk down the hallway very calmly towards the back room. Jayne couldn't help but observe Aria's movements as she walked towards the backroom to clock out. There was a subtle waddle in her step that Jayne found strangely cute. She tried not to stare, but her eyes were drawn to the oddly placed wet patch on Aria's butt. She notices Aria discreetly reach her hand out to grab something when passing through the aisle. The checker at the front scanned her pads and looked up at Jayne "I take it you must have met Aria, hehehe she is quite the free spirit!" Jayne nervously chuckled as she grabbed the bag and headed home to go make breakfast. As she cracked the eggs into a bowl and whisked them with care, she couldn't help but admire the panoramic view of the city through her large windows. The morning sun painted the skyline with warm hues, casting a golden glow on the bustling streets below. Jayne sautéed the vegetables with a hint of olive oil, savoring the aroma that filled her home. She expertly folded the omelette, creating a masterpiece of flavors and colors. As Jayne sat at the breakfast table, her mind couldn't help but replay the peculular encounter with Aria, the employee at the store. The puzzle pieces of Aria's behavior seemed to fit together in her mind, and a thrilling realization washed over her. The fidgety behavior, the sudden shift in composure, the weird wet patch on her butt, what she reached for in the aisle... it all pointed to one possibility...Aria wears diapers! But she not only wears them, she uses them. Aria was flooding her diaper while helping Jayne and it had leaked! Jayne changed topics in her head as she noticed it was 8:45 and she had to hurry to finish her morning tasks before the work day. Jayne logged in for the work but throughout her day her mind was racing. She found herself imagining Aria wearing a diaper, feeling the same sensations that had brought her pleasure in her dream. The day went by...Jayne had a typical work day, half virtual calls and half the other time to actually get her work done. Jayne logs off of work a little bit after 5pm. Her phone rings, and she notices that the number shares the same area code as Ryan's work phone. Curiosity mixed with a sense of unease, as she answers the call. It's not Ryan but instead a woman's voice on the phone.

An autobiographical story in which a girl recounts her unexpected regression. Thats a one shot story Part 1: Hi! im Silvia If someone asked me how all this started, I wouldn’t know how to answer. I only know that one morning I woke up, and the bed was wet. Obviously, my mother was not happy at all; she spent the morning yelling at me. She couldn’t understand how an 18-year-old girl could wake up in a wet bed and have no idea why. I don’t really remember the feeling of a wet bed; I just know that by the fourth night of lying in my own urine, my mother brought home a pack of pull-ups. The pull-ups were pink and covered in heart-shaped patterns. They weren’t like regular underwear; they were padded but more discreet compared to what I wear now. I cried and yelled at my mom, refusing to wear them, but in the end, she was right: I had become a stupid girl who wet the bed. The first time I wore them, I was surprised by how comfortable they were and how they didn’t show under my pajama pants. The next morning, I woke up dry. I was happy, moving my legs under the sheets, but then my hand reached the new underwear. Pressing it, I felt the imprint of a cold liquid still soaking the cover. I got up with my heart in my throat. My pull-up was soaked. I didn’t even tell my mother; she already expected it. I simply took it off, threw it away, and got dressed for class. And so I quickly went through the first two packs of 10 pull-ups: it had become a routine. In the evening, I brushed my teeth, put on the pull-up, and wore my pajamas. I even stopped changing it immediately; sometimes I went straight to breakfast. The worst part was when I lost control during the day. At first, it was just a more urgent need to pee, then a few drops would come out, and eventually, I ended up wetting myself freely. My mother took me to all the doctors in the world, but none could give me an answer. In the end, she gave up and made me wear pull-ups during the day. Then came the summer holidays, between wet pull-ups and often failed bathroom runs. Summer arrived, and it was time for diapers. I still remember the first time I pooped in my pull-up: I was at lunch and felt a strange sensation in my butt. It was like an itch that disappeared as soon as I pushed. I spread my legs and without realizing it, I pushed everything into my pull-up. The most embarrassing part was that I was in front of my mother, who looked at me in shock. That was the last time I wore pull-ups. I still remember the first diaper I wore. Of course, my mother spanked me heavily to make me wear it. The diaper was childish, white with a parade of bears carrying crayons on the front. The diaper came up over my navel, tightened at the level of my pubis, and then widened at my butt. It was incredibly comfortable, I felt like I was hugged by a cushion. At first, when my mother wasn’t looking, I played by patting my butt, marveling at the fact that I didn’t feel anything. Over time, my continence worsened: I wet myself freely, often without noticing, finding the diaper soaked. For pooping, it was different: I knew when I was doing it but didn’t have much warning. Eventually, I gave up trying to run to the bathroom and simply stopped wherever I was, spread my legs, and filled my diaper. The only thing that consoled me was that I was home for the summer holidays. What changed was my relationship with my mother: at first, I changed myself, not too happily when I smelled, and she commented that I didn’t put the diaper on correctly. Then she started automatically fixing the diaper tabs, ignoring my annoyed face. Then she started coming into my room while I was changing to see if I was doing everything right. Finally, she made me lie down, and she changed me. To be honest, I wasn’t too opposed, after all, it was one less dirty job. The only problem was that she started checking if I needed a change. Eventually, I became dependent on her; I no longer monitored the state of my diaper, and if my mother didn’t change me, I would stay in a dirty one for hours. It must have been the summer heat, but eventually, I started going around the house with just a t-shirt and the diaper in view, my mother cleaning my dirty butt, so who cared. I giggled when I saw myself in the mirror. I liked how my butt would sag and wobble after wetting. I even stopped noticing the smell of a dirty diaper. Then came the changing table. My mom bought it and put it in my bathroom: it was like a cabinet, painted pink, with drawers to keep my supplies. There was a purple ladder I used to climb up, and on top, there was a white mattress. It was very comfortable; I climbed up, lay down, and my mother did everything. I soon learned the difference between day and night diapers: the night ones were thicker, and I could sleep without fear of leaking. I realized I actually needed diapers one day, during a change, when I peed without noticing. My legs were still open, and the clean diaper had just been placed under my butt. Luckily, my mother was quick enough to close the front part, waiting for me to finish. Then I started sucking my thumb; I don’t remember how it happened the first time, I just know it ended up in my mouth automatically when I slept or did homework. After the thumb came the pacifier, “better for your teeth,” my mother said. The first pacifier was white and pink with a bunny drawn on it. I sucked on it often, not because it was really necessary, but because it was a habit, like I needed it to feel good or calm down. Then came the bottle: I started spilling the contents of glasses on myself, and soon my mother placed a bottle in front of me at dinner. I didn’t object; I was too thirsty. Drinking from a bottle was completely different: I could carry it around, drink lying down, drink while playing and studying. But what was strangest was my relationship with the outside world and my friends. Nobody cared that I was in diapers, nobody cared if I messed up in the middle of a store while shopping. The same went for my friends; they treated me like it was all normal, like the pacifier and diapers were my normal. It was different from how a child is treated, no, mine was normal, as if I were a regular 18-year-old girl. None of my friends said anything if my diaper was soaked, none seemed to notice my words distorted by the pacifier in my mouth. When we went out for drinks, I was sure my friends got a glass while I got a bottle. Eventually, I stopped worrying that people would see my diaper, nobody cared anyway, sometimes I even went out with just a t-shirt and the diaper in view. Part 2: Smelly diapers and highchair I forgot almost immediately that diapers were not my classic garment until a few weeks ago, simply as my friend clara wore pink panties, I had a nice padded diaper, white with pink hearts. After the pacifier, after the bottle, came the baby clothes. I discovered that I liked dungarees, especially with shorts; I also liked the bulge that could be glimpsed between my pubes and my bottom: it had become my outfit for evenings. To stay at home I often wore rompers: I had all kinds, one more childish than the other, and then according to my mother it was easier to change if there were buttons on my bottom. Another fact to recount is the sleepover at Clara's house. I showed up about 7 p.m.: I was wearing my favorite dungarees, pacifier in my mouth and hair pulled back in pigtails. I had my diaper bag with the essentials with me. Clara opened the door and let me in, we stood in the living room watching TV series, eating popcorn and drinking lots of coke of course from my bottle Toward the end of the first season my diaper was heavily in danger of leaking. It was at that moment that Clara surprised me by saying: " do you want me to change your diaper?" I turned and looked at her surprised; I had always thought that only my mother knew. " yes, if possible," I said somewhere between a flicker of shame and insecurity. He took me by the hand and walked me to the bathroom where he made me lie down. I didn't know what to say, I was embarrassed at first but then I realized it wasn't that different from when my mother did it so I let go. We finished changing and went to the bedroom where we chatted for a while as if it was normal for my best friend to change my diaper. Then Clara asked a question that amazed me: "How does it feel to poop in a diaper?" I looked at her a little stunned. "Well, I first feel a sensation on my bottom, as if my diaper wanted me to do it, then I feel that I have to push I spread my knees and do. I feel when my body starts to empty. When the poop comes out of me I can feel it flowing inside the diaper, like it's very hot and then it settles there until they change me," I replied with a splash of honesty. "It sounds extra gross," said clara. Eventually the strange questions ended and we went to bed. And so it was that July came between messy diapers and drunk bottles. It was on my birthday that my mother let me find the high chair: it was white, with two wooden dumbbells, one on the right, one on the left, and on one side, the seat was padded, white, like the small table that lowered over my legs. I didn't know what to say, the only thing I did was wet my diaper, strangely enough.... But my mother seemed so enthusiastic, so I indulged her. The feeling of being in a high chair is strange but I will try to describe it : the high chair is a taller chair and my legs are dangling, the padding is great, always to be on a cloud. The coffee table is lowered under my chest is comfortable because it is close and I don't get dirty with food What I learned after settling down is that diapers and high chairs are connected, if I wasn't padded and had to run to the potty I wouldn't get there in time. The only downside is that I have to depend on my mother to pass me the dishes and the baby bottle --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The last part is already out in my ream account, if u like my story pls subscribe to get priority access to my new parts e to others story that i dont publish here. https://reamstories.com/scrittoreanon

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Chapter One: The Drive Dad drove down the highway with meholding my hand between my legs. I had to pee and being stuck in a car definitely didn't help. A sign up ahead said that a rest area was only ten kilometres up ahead and I could certainly hold it. I could ask for my father to stop yet there was somethig else. “Something wrong?" Dad suddenly asked without looking at me. “Weird,” I replied. “ Dam weird you know.” He certainly did know why I felt weird. This was his plan. “I'm wearing an adult nappy,” I groaned. “You better be, Vicky,” Dad replied. “You don't want to be found out as a faker and lose this scholarship.” “Yeah,” I said. “That's the problem; I'm not really incontinent. They are going to find out.” “No, they won't. Just act natural. Show the letter I faked again.” I rubbed the padded material between my legs .“This is certainly not natural," I protested. “Well, get used to wetting yourself often,” he said. “You probably should show up in a really wet nappy. That way you won't look like a faker to the other girls who are used to wetting their nappies.” “Why did I let you talk me into this?” I whined. “You got a scholarship. The bank lost most my money, remember? This is your last chance to go to university,” he answered. I sighed. I don't understand how things got so weird. My father put away enough into my university fund to pay for all years of school. HMRC investigated my father recently and caught him for insider trading and fined him heavily and he eventually used up my university fund to pay for the fine. It was the summer before the start of uni and I had no money. So I search for scholarships. None fit me but after intesive search there was also a scholarship for only urinary incontinent girls who were studying any subject at my chosen university. Unlike the others, it was not listed on the university's website but on a discreet form for disabled students. It was the only scholarship and it was generous. It paid for everything including a monthly allowance. I remember distinctively getting the phone call. “Is Victoria Stevens there?” the woman asked. “Yes, this is she,” I gripped my mobile tightly. “This is Elizabeth Jones from the Urinary Incontinent Girls scholarship programme. You have been chosen.” My mouth was opened in shock. I had though my university dreams were over. “The last girl didn't meet our requirements. She was clearly bluffing her urinary incontinence just to get the scholarship while your doctor's letter appears genuine. I made this scholarship so incontinent girls can have the full university experience, including living in the halls. To do that we want to make sure that we pair you with another girl in the hall that is also incontinent for moral support. You will still have your own room Will this be a problem for you?” “No problem,” I replied, elated. “Good. We are having a summer camp to get to know the other girls. Attendance is mandatory.” I didn't tell the rest of my wider family. Dad thought it was perfect and had been a big help in getting me loads of adult nappies. They do sell nappies in stores like Boots, but the tape-o kind that real incontinent people wear is only found online and he helped me order Tena Slip Maxis online. Back to the present, the road sign indicated we wear near the camp. Dad said an incontinent girl would show up in a very wet nappy. I relaxed in my seat and pretended I was sitting on the toilet. As I started to pee in my nappy, it was so warm as the wetness spread around my crotch and under my bottom. I was shocked at how good it actually felt. Chapter Two: Fitting in with the Group Dad pulled into the lot and right away I spotted the group. After giving me a kiss, I head to group which consisted of five teenaged girls and a young lady stood around the van. “Are you Vicky?” the lady who was clearly Liz Jones, asked me. She wore torn jeans and a T-shirt. There was a bulge around her butt area, most definitely indicated she was wearing a nappy definitely wet. I said yes and opened the back door of my car and got my bags when she stopped me. "May I see your doctor's letter again?" I unzipped one part of my main bag and handed it over. Hoping the forgery work, she quickly smiled and nodded. "Can you remove your skirt? I want to see if you're wearing and adult nappy and have used it." I slowly unclipped my skirt; I tried many jeans but the bulge of the nappy always showed as well as the top. I can't remember how much I peed in the nappy earlier but Liz came closer, walked around and was satisfied. “Good. You're the last girl to arrive, so let's get going. You can put your stuff in the back of the van.” The wet nappy I had on now felt thick and I felt that I could use a change now. “Do I have time to run to the look real quick?” I leaned closer to her. “I'm quite wet.” Was there a loo nearby? “Uh no, do you think we can hold yourself?” I nodded though not sure if the nappy could. “Good. Then we got to go.” She led me in through the sliding door of the van and I took a seat beside a bored-looking girl with a sarcastic nerd phrase on her shirt. She wore black cargo jeans with all kinds of metal hanging from them. She whispered, “So, what's your story?” Before I could answer, Liz hopped into the driver’s seat and started the van. “Girls,” she called out through a speaker. “My name, as you all came into contact with, is Elizabeth Jones but you can call me Liz. I am the scholarship coordinator and founder of the Scholarship for Incontinent Girls. When I studied physics, I was embarrassed about having to explain to my hallmates, coursemates and friends that I had an incontinence problem. I realized that another incontinent girl would make a good hallmate and thus this scholarship came about. This camp is for several reasons. Mainly so you can get to know each other and find out who you to be paired with for moral support. The other reason is, unfortunately, to screen out people who are liars. I had to replace one girl earlier on who was not incontinent.” Minutes later, Liz continued. “So, get to know each other during this week. How about introducing yourself to each other now as I drive to the camp.” “My name is Kerri Kensington," the girl next to me began. "I am long tired of being teased about my incontinence. Having a mother who is not so discrete about it means everyone at school and my neighbour knew about it. This scholarship sunds great. I worried so much about uni and having to hide my nappies from others but I feel think group will give me support. I am excited about studying electrical engineering.” The girl who sat beside Kerri also wearing jeans spoke up. “My name is Michelle.” Her voice was softer and didn't give her surname. “I don't really have friends due to incontinence and will be studying Art History.” In the rear seat, a girl spoke up. “I'm Vera Horton. I'm just as normal as anyone else, or I was until the car accident where some drunk ran into me. The drunk doesn't have to wear nappies and it's not fair. Instead, he only got thirty days in jail. I instead have to spend the rest of my life in nappies.” She pounded her fists on the seat beside her. “Because of this, my boyfriend took someone else to my Year 11 and Year 13 prom. Will be reading Chemistry.” “My name is Bethany,” said her neighbour who had just looked up from a book. She wore all black with tight leggings. Even her nail polish and lipstick were black. “People already though I was weird with my love for black, so knowing about my nappies really made things worse. Will take modern history." The fifth girl introduced herself as Cath never Catherine. She worn a shorter skirt than myself. "I'll study my favourite subject biology and don't nappies to destroy my uni life.” I cleared my throat. “I'm Vicky Stevens. Am urinary incontinent birth since and my promised uni fund went away, so I thought I couldn't go to uni. Will be taking mechanical engineering." I hope that worked. The silence told me they accepted it. Chapter Three: The Meal About noon, Liz stopped at a local pub. I really wanted a fresh nappy. “Okay. Here is the plan. Cath, Vicky, and Michelle will go into the bathroom and change. Vera Bethany, and Kerri and myself will order our food. When you three return we will go change while you order your food. Then we will eat together.” In the toilet stall, I removed my skirt and looked down at my wet nappy. It was really wet - I did wet it a second time. I peeled off the tapes, rolled up the soggy nappy, then wiped myself off with baby wipes. Once finished, I put on a new Tena Slip like I had practiced many times by leaning against the wall of the stall. Back at the counter, I ordered a medium coke and a burger.