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  1. 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.
  2. 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
  3. Hi. I know it's been a while but I NEED HELP. Are there ABDLS In Las Vegas? If so, where can I find an ABDL porn director/producer? I need to make money so I can help me and my family through this challenging times. I still look Young and have some baby fat. My phone number is 702-613-3151 Thanks for reading
  4. 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.
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