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All right, this is my very first story, so please be kind. The ideas surrounding this have been kicking around in my head for a while and I finally thought I could share to this site that has so many wonderful, understanding people. I've already got several chapters lined up, but we'll see how far things actually get. (edit: I went back and reposted with better formatting and one or two minor grammatical changes) ---------- Chapter 1, Found "Bye hon, I'm off to class," Sarah called out as she gathered her keys and headed towards the door. Oh my gosh, I had almost forgotten it was Thursday. I looked up and called out to my wife as she reached the door, "Have a good class, see you when you get home.” And with the realization she had class tonight, things started to wake up in my loins. Class nights were when I had some private time. Sarah would be gone for at least four hours, from 4:00 until 8:00. With luck she would text around 7:30 saying she would be going out with 'the girls' and be even later. You see, I do love my wife of three years dearly, but I've always kept one deep secret from her. To put it simply, I'm an adult baby. If you don't know what that is, to put it simply, I like to dress up in diapers and pretend I'm a baby. It may sound strange, but we AB's, as we often refer to ourselves, get emotional and sexual satisfaction from it. And with Sarah off to class, I can indulge this part of myself for a while. So, when I heard the car door shut and her driving off, I got up and headed to our bedroom. As I have done many times, I quickly shed my 'big boy clothes' and dug into the back of the closet where I kept my diapers hidden. A new package, it took a moment to tug the first one out and then went over to the bed. As I lay on top of the opened diaper and lowered my bum onto the soft padding, my cock was already wide awake knowing it would soon be embraced in the absorbent garment. Pulling it up between my legs, the brush of the elastic leg bands against my thighs sent another thrill through me. As I tugged the tapes in place my bladder gave a small twinge and any normal person would have gotten up to use the bathroom. But then, I'm not exactly normal and thought, "Perfect, after playtime, baby is going to have an 'accident'." That thought brought a smile to my face and a small giggle. Time to log onto my favorite web site to see if there were any new pictures or captions. So off to the home office, I sat down with a crinkle and clicked until I found the "What's New" tab. It wasn't long before I found a new one that was enough to make me move my hand from the computer mouse to my diaper. A woman's chest, wearing a nursing bra with one cup opened. The caption read, "Good little babies can have mommy's special treat.... Good little babies wet their didees." I must confess, this hit all my 'buttons' and soon my other hand rose to my face and I was sucking my thumb on one hand while my other hand slipped into my diaper. It wasn't long and my eyes were drifting shut in incredible bliss as the only noise in the room was the crinkling of my diaper as I masturbated to another incredible climax. My thumb slipped from my lips as I gasped, catching my breath as the afterglow came over me when suddenly I heard... "Looks like you're having fun." My heart leapt into my throat as my head jerked around to see Sarah leaning against the doorway, her arms folded across her chest. Thoughts raced through my mind, "How long was she there... oh DAMN,she saw what I just... shit shit SHIT!!!" "Sarah! I... I... what are you... I thought you went to class," I stammered and stalled, trying to deflect the conversation. "You...you shouldn't be skipping..." All the while, she was walking slowly towards me as I sat there frozen, hand still in my diaper, computer still displaying the captioned picture. "It’s fine, I told the professor I wouldn't be able to make it this week. But is that REALLY what you want to talk about??" She smirked a little as she reached down, kindly but firmly gripping my wrist and pulling my hand out. Then, matter-of-factly, she declared, "First, we need to clean those fingers, I don't want your cum everywhere. Come along." With that she tugged my wrist and I rose up to follow her, down the short hallway and into the kitchen, over to the sink. Having just orgasmed and my heart still pounding, the last thing my bladder needed was the sound of running water as Sarah turned on the tap. "One thing I won't abide is you getting your cum everywhere," Sarah declared as she thrust my hand under the cool water and squirted some soap on it. The cold water made my bladder twinge and I felt a little pee leak out, with her back towards me, my other hand swiftly gripped the front of my diaper and I managed to stop the flow as she quickly washed my fingers. As she shut off the tap and turned, I blushed and jerked my free hand away from my diaper. Sarah grabbed a tea towel and started drying my fingers, saying quite clearly, "We need to talk." Oh dear, I've heard that before from when I dated other women. 'The Talk' always ended up with them leaving, me crying alone, and another round of depression. Resigned to my fate, I dropped my gaze to the floor and said softly, "Fine, I'll go change and we can..." Sarah interrupted, "No, in the living room. Now." She put a hand on my shoulder, turned me in that direction and gave me a small push. As we entered, I realized the drapes where still open and I'm waddling in front of them wearing nothing but my t-shirt and diaper. I hesitated for a moment, but Sarah urged me onward. Sarah pointed to a spot on the sofa and simply said, "Sit." Then she sat down beside me, turning towards me. She was quiet, apparently waiting for me to start. When the silence started to grow deafening, I suddenly remembered something she had said. She had told her professor last week she wasn't going to be in class tonight. I looked up and into her waiting gaze, "You planned this. You knew!! How long have you known??" Sarah put her elbow on the back of the sofa and leaned her head against her hand, "Since before Christmas." No further explanation, no criticism, just a simple statement and she once again was quiet. I did the quick math, it was now mid-April. "But that was more than four months ago, and you didn't say anything? You didn't..." Sarah looked directly at me, "I am well aware of how to use a calendar, Michael." She went on, "And how to research things on the internet, how to review your browser history, and how to search through the trash every Friday morning." I sat there, thinking how dumb I've been to have left such obvious evidence, but she continued. "I even made a couple of appointments with Cyrstal. You remember I've told you about her? My old college friend? She's a clinical psychologist now, she helped me understand quite a few things." I felt the blood drain from my face, "You...you told her? How could you do that?" Sarah sat up straight again, reached over and gently put her hand to my cheek, "Michael, she's bound by patient confidentiality. She said she's heard a lot worse. And I love you, I want to know how to help." "You mean you want to 'cure' me... good luck with that. Do you think I haven’t tried stopping? Try to be more 'normal'?" Despite her not shouting like some other women have in the past, I hung my head down and felt the tears about to start. I just know she's about to leave me just as ever women I've ever known. None have ever compared to Sarah, but I was certain our short blissful marriage was about to end. After a moment of silence, I felt her hand on my shoulder, she pulled me toward her. Pulling my head into her arms, against her chest, she hugged me tight. "Shhh... shhhh... no, I'm NOT going to do that. Crystal explained it, you can't help it anymore than you can stop breathing. It's a part of you, I understand that." She continued, while gently rubbing my back. "I am a little upset that you never told me, but my research online taught me a lot," she softly explained. "It's like there is a wall separating your two lives, your two halves, and for them to meet in real life, well I know it must be upsetting. It's like breaking a glass, sometimes it's just a chip, sometimes it shatters. But I'm here to help either way." All I could do was nod into her chest as I felt the tears trailing down my cheek. "So you're, you're not freaked out and going to leave me?" "Nope. Not at all. In fact, we're going to open up that wall together, starting right now. I want you to wet yourself. Right now." I started to sit up but her arms held me firmly. "You can't mean that, I mean I can't do that. Please don't." I whimpered. "Now Michael, every Friday for months now, I've found a diaper in the trash. And a large number of them were wet. I know you do it, there's no point in denying it. I just want you to admit it to me and show me that you trust me." And with that simple declaration, she hugged me tighter to her chest and slowly started to rock me in her arms. The tears slowed as I felt her warmth, holding me. She didn't say anything more and the room fell silent. My mind was conflicted. Part of me wanted this, wanted so much to be held in loving arms that cared for me. But years of shame and rejection are hard to overcome. I reached and hugged her arm as I closed my eyes and tried to relax. This is different, I told myself, this is Sarah and she loves me. She knew all this time and she didn't get mad, she tried to learn more she says she wants to help. After what seemed like ages, the post orgasmic need, the cool air on my legs, the stress, I finally calmed down enough, nuzzled her breast and let it happen. At first just a trickle and as so often happens, when the first trickle hits my skin I clenched reflexively and stopped it. But then I relaxed again and let go fully. All those stories about hearing it I'm sure were exaggerations, the silence in the room was so strong you could have heard a pin drop. But I felt the warmth spreading like so many times before, the padding swelling up as it did it's job. But Sarah knew, perhaps by the soft sigh as I relaxed, the tension in my muscles finally easing. Whatever it was, she knew. I felt her shift a little, then she patted the front of my diaper, "Good baby.... Good little babies wet their didees.' Hearing her say that, where had I heard that? At any rate, I blushed hard and buried my face deep into her chest as she once again hugged me tight. I was an emotional mess, from orgasmic ecstasy, to shock, fear of rejection, slowly calming and then this final step, quiet contentment and bliss. I didn't want to move from this spot ever again. But of course Sarah, ever the practical one finally stirred. Patting my diaper she said, "Okay, time to get up sweetie. It's almost six now and I made dinner reservations for seven. I want you to shower, get dressed up nice, we're going for Italian at Canale's." I'm normally not that fond of Italian, but I wasn't about to argue. Here I am, my life suddenly turned upside down and my love wants Italian. So tonight, Sarah is getting Italian. As I got up and headed for the master bath, this woman that loves me called out, "And don't forget to put your diaper in the trash sweetheart." A quick shower, dressed and when I reappeared Sarah had fixed her makeup, stood up and gave me a hug. "You look great darling, let's go." But what I wasn't expecting was as we left the bedroom she grabbed my butt and said casually, "No diaper? That's okay.... baby steps love... we'll work things out in baby steps..." ...to be continued

Okay, this is really my first (and thus far, only planned, although I'm Not Saying It's Aliens, but... is rather similar in a way) foray into Diaper Dimension stories, so I'll try to do my best to adhere to the whole thing. Basically, though, I will warn you of this: there is a war in this particular part of the Dimension, and neither country involved has their hands clean. That's the moral of this story: war sucks, every country has their dirty laundry, and nobody's innocent. The focus on Littles is also pretty far away; I'm focusing more on one particular Little and her perspective on the whole thing, and while Littles will appear, I'm not planning on them being the focal parts of the story for story reasons. If any other characters are really focused on perspective-wise (possibly; I have an idea how the story ends, but everything else is a work in progress, and I apologize; bipolar disorder makes it hard to focus on...well, anything, and I wanted to get something done to help with the depression.), it'll likely be the Amazons and Middles who are a part of that war. I will mention that I am not a member of the armed forces and not a marine, so while I'm trying to research the absolute shit out of this, I cannot promise to be perfect. If there is a marine here who wants to correct me, feel absolutely free, and I will apply those corrections to this story whenever possible. Likewise, I cannot give a specific schedule of when Semper Fi gets updated; I have a very busy four weeks ahead, and my mental health is likewise unclear, and that's why I'm updating this at the moment and trying - key word is trying - to get my other stories done, I promise. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. But if you're not scared away by the numerous content warnings I've posted, read on: - Chapter One: Where is my Brother? - Corporal Clover Hope was so desperate to find her missing older brother that she had gone AWOL from the United States Marine Corps, all the way from Camp Lejeune to the last location he had been sighted: Nevada’s Death Valley. First Lieutenant (Marine Corps like her, semper fi!) Graywind Hope, tall and well-built at 6’4”, with his short black hair, his warm gray eyes the color of smoke on the breeze, his tawny skin denoting him (and her) as a member of the Navajo, his normal stoicism belied by the fact that he gave her all of the soft smiles he wouldn’t give anyone else, laughing at all of her bad jokes, and giving her all of the biggest hugs a big brother could ever give a little sister. He had gone missing a month ago, and whenever she brought it up with her superiors in the Marine Corps, they told her that they didn’t have answers, that she’d have to bring it up with the chain of command, who delayed her constantly, without remorse or empathy, every time she tried to go through normal channels. Clover was fucking sick of the chain of command, fucking sick of every noncommittal answer on normal channels. She wanted to see his smile again, hear his voice again, and nothing was worth more than that. She wanted her brother - her only family member with both of their parents dead - back, screw the military, and screw what everyone else thought. She was positioned just outside of the latest sighting, getting as much information as she could from the Nevada natives outside of Death Valley, close to another base that was very much like Area 51, but even more secretive in what they did. The United States military had been testing various things above her paygrade; that she knew, as she took a sip of water from one of her three twenty-four-ounce aluminum flasks she had brought along for the ride. Clover had ditched her uniform a while back, going for a cowboy hat, a tank top, leather gloves, a pair of jeans, and muddy combat boots to go along with her huge backpack, all crudely painted black with a stolen paint can now in the vehicle she stole - being conscious of the environment was the reason she didn’t use spray cans - and stolen from different places; she wanted to spare what little cash she had for necessary things like food, water, and gas for her car. Said backpack was stuffed with her other two water flasks, a case containing her Nintendo Switch OLED model with various games, charger, and a Power Bank for portable charging (to prevent her getting bored), a tactical flashlight (she had left her iPhone at the base so as to avoid being tracked, so she had stolen the flashlight), binoculars (military grade and yes, it was stolen), a bunch of canned and preserved food from a gas station (expensive and not particularly edible, but better than MREs, and she’d make do), a jacket and a beanie for the cold desert night (also stolen), a first aid kit (stolen again), and a military grade sleeping bag (to nobody’s surprise, stolen). Her M18 Modular Handgun System - a pistol based on the SIG Sauer used by the Marines - was holstered on her thigh with two extra magazines on her belt, along with a standard KA-BAR knife stored in a custom made (thanks to Graywind for her most recent birthday, her twenty-second two months ago) waterproof vegetable-tanned cowhide leather sheath, as she peered through the binoculars, her gray eyes cautious. The building had snipers posted on top, and she’d never be able get close to the place unless, maybe, when it turned to night - a massive problem since she was wanted by the Marines, local and federal police, and probably the fucking FBI and CIA at the rate she was going. Clover had dug herself a small hole into the rocky hill using her KA-BAR knife. It had been exhausting work, taking the whole of the day and sweat poured down her tawny skin and black ponytail, but she kept at it, even when bits of sand filled the hole, thinking of nothing more than her brother, safe, back with her, ready to face whatever consequences so she could see him again. When she finished, it was dinnertime: canned hash (basically salty beef and potatoes), canned corn, and canned black beans with a snack of trail mix and a quickly-browning banana. It was what she had been living on in the past three days that she had been AWOL, and she hated it…but it was still better than the military’s Meals Rejected by Everyone. She shuddered, remembering the first time she had tried the chili and macaroni MRE; she had nearly vomited the whole thing up, and it gave her severe constipation, taking for-fucking-ever to shit it out of her system. Good news is that prison food might be a bit better, Clover thought pessimistically as she chewed on the canned hash, drinking a bit more water to go along with it. Then a deep male voice, close, far too close, shouted, “Don’t fucking move!”, and she saw a bunch of red dots line up on her body, with three very tall, fully armored men pointing M27s at her. Bitter tears escaped her eyes. She was close, so fucking CLOSE to finding Graywind, and she had been denied it. “Who are you?” the speaker, a huge man in body armor that had to be at least 6’9”, demanded in a Southern drawl. “Specify the reason why you’re here!” She answered, like she had been drilled into countless times at boot camp, “Sir, Corporal Clover Hope, USMC, Service Number 8839754669, sir!” The speaker paused. “Where did you go to boot camp? What is your MOS? Where were you stationed? And what are the parts of the EGA, and what do they mean?” “Sir, MCRD San Diego, MOS is 0311, stationed at Camp Lejeune, and the parts of the EGA are Eagle, stands for United States, Globe, stands for global service, and Anchor, stands for our naval traditions, sir!” Clover saw the man smirk, could almost see the amusement in his eyes behind his sunglasses. “You expecting a Big Chicken Dinner for going AWOL?” he drawled. “To find my fucking brother, asshole!” she snapped. The man paused for a few moments. “...Semper fi,” he said. “Oorah,” she answered quietly. “Yeah, he was here,” he said, holding his hand up to signal his men to stand down. “Far above your paygrade.” “I don’t give a single shit, or I wouldn’t be here,” Clover growled. “Sir, we don’t have time for this,” the second marine said. “Just put her in the damned brig and be done with it.” “I wonder, though…” the big marine murmured, his finger scratching his blond beard. “Corporal, how much do you know of dimensional travel?” “Sir?” she asked, suddenly confused. “You’re talking aliens?” “Of a sort, yeah.” She got the feeling he wasn’t being entirely honest. “You’re about the right size for…yeah…if it were a Middle, it would be a different story, but you’re about 5’1”, should be enough for…” “Sir, what the fuck are you talking about?” Clover interrupted, completely confused about the reference to her height. Her boob size wasn’t much to brag about either, probably AA cup, maybe A at the absolute most, but she almost preferred it: the less staring and catcalls from the men, the better. “Take these.” The big marine handed her an earpiece (which, while she was confused about it, didn’t hesitate to put it in her left ear) and an odd gray device, circular in circumference and the size of her palm. “You’re going to want to get rid of your weapons - every weapon - and grab your backpack before you click the bottom button.” “I’m not relieving my weapons,” Clover said stubbornly, as she palmed the device. “Your funeral,” the big marine said with a shrug. “You come in with weapons, and the Amazons won’t be very fucking happy, but you asked for it; we’ve got plenty more where you come from.” She looked at the big marine like he was crazy. “Amazons? The fuck kind of aliens are those? Do they do deliveries and shit, too?” “Remind me to laugh at your shitty jokes if you ever get back,” the second marine growled, and she could almost hear his eyeroll. “Sir, you’re not seriously-” the third marine began before the big marine cut him off, saying, “Every Middle classification, including her brother, has disappeared without a trace, has immediately been cut off from radio contact. We’re not part of their world, so we can’t be Amazons. There’s only one classification left we haven’t tried, and we haven’t tried a woman yet.” “Littles!” the second marine spat. “She’d be useless to them!” “And she doesn’t know shit about this! Why not try someone else on base; hell, anyone else?!” the third marine snapped. “She has a personal stake in this. Motivation enough to risk a prison sentence.” The big marine sighed as Clover quickly devoured her meal, not even bothering to clear off the remnants of food from her face before she packed up her sleeping bag in her backpack. “Sometimes, that’s what the greatest of us lack: motivation and a reason worth fighting for.” Clover hefted her backpack over her shoulders and clicked the button on the bottom of the gray device, which lit up bright silver in the desert, whirling in her palm, burning as miniature tendrils attached themselves to her hand. She felt every fiber of her body react, her blood, sinew, and bones almost boiling like a bad morphine overdose. She wanted to scream, but it quickly died in her throat. The device emitted an ear-piercing shriek, and she may have as well before everything went black. - Hope y'all enjoyed~

1. General settings The Dragon Cave is a large cave in Atilet Slopes. According to rumors, a big treasure is guarded by a dragon there; that’s why the cave name. Several attempts to get the treasure have failed already. An adventure party is gathered in Claycliff, a small town south of the Slopes. They would like to get the treasure. 2. Character list Harold Age – early 30’s Gender & Sex – Male Class – paladin. He is a brave hero and a native party leader; strong and experienced in fighting skills. Harold was a member of King’s personal guard, but he left his job and decided to be a mercenary. The main reason was obvious - gold and money, but he also likes the leader role that he didn’t have in the King’s guard. Personality – Strict but fair. However, he isn’t used to females in party and often shows his distrust. Of course, there were no women in the army let alone King’s personal guard. Clothing & equipment: ATK: 5 DEF: 5 MATK: 0 MDEF:0 SNK: 2 ESC: 2 Priscilla Age - Early 20’s Gender - Female Sex - Female Class - Mage. Can cast a variety of spells from offensive elemental magic to smaller utility spells like creating orbs of light to brighten up dark areas such as caves. Extensive spell casting upsets her bowels so she needs to wear diapers as a precautionary measure. Most mages do not suffer from this issue so it is quite the mystery. Mana - Like other magic users, she has a finite amount of mana to cast spalls with though as a person trained in the art of magic she has much more mana than the average person. When it gets low she will need to scarf down a lot of food followed by some rest in order to replenish it. Some spells use more than others, the stronger the spell, the more mana it uses. When she has used up too much mana her body will collapse from exhaustion, rendering her unable to move her limbs until her mana is replenished again. This system also applies to healing magic but tends to be less of an issue since outside of large scale healing spells, support spells tend to require less mana to use than offensive magic. Though notably a lot of Priscilla’s utility magic costs very little mana so she will have no trouble using those unless a: she is already out of mana at that time or b: she doesn’t want to upset her tummy any further and risk an messy accident. Personality - Quiet, embarrassed and ashamed about her condition, easily flustered but is a sucker for praise. Tends to hide her face in her large hat when embarrassed. Clothing - Typical mage attire. Large hat, long cloak both a shade of purple it’s pretty by the numbers but why fix what isn’t broken, hm? And besides, the cloak can be flipped up for impromptu diaper checks! She’ll definitely throw a fit if you do that though! Equipment - She always has her trusty staff with her! It’s made of a special magic conductive wood which she carved herself! It was part of what she had to do while learning magic. It curves on the top into a C shape. ATK - 0 DEF - 0 MATK - 5 MDEF- 3 SNK - 2 ESC - 1 BLS = 50, feeling urge at 40 BLI = 2 BWS = 90, feeling urge at 70 BWI = 3, casting a spell adds 2-4 to the actual roll Kennan Age - early 40’s Class – rogue. He is not physically strong but very dexterous and perceptive. He easily can detect enemies, unlock doors and even solve puzzles. His past is partially criminal – his fingers were trained by pickpocketing. He also was careful enough not to be caught. After several years, he decided to use his skills on the other side of the law and offered his services to adventurers’ parties. These skills can be very useful in every mission. Personality – Kennan is a mature man, and he is sensitive to everybody. His personality is a direct contrast to Harold. Clothing: Equipment – besides of the dagger, Kennan is equipped with a complete set of pick-locking tools. ATK: 3 DEF: 4 MATK: 0 MDEF:0 SNK: 4 ESC: 4 Michelle Age – late 20’s Gender & sex – female Class – cleric. Michelle is a powerful healer; she can use herbs, elixirs or magic to cure all kinds of diseases and wounds. She learned all skills from her mother – a powerful witch. However, she had to pay a prize for it – she never got potty-trained; her mother had to change her diapers until Michelle left their home. Michelle still doesn’t like the diaper changes on her own and would welcome if somebody else took care of her. Personality – quite cheerful and content with her diaper condition. She even likes her diapers even if she doesn’t want to admit it. Clothing: Equipment – a bag with herbs and elixirs, a big bag with spare diapers and cleaning utensils. ATK: 2 DEF: 2 MATK: 3 MDEF:4 SNK: 3 ESC: 4 BLS = 40 BLI = 3 BWS = 120 BWI = 2 3. Scene 4.Plots and relations Kennan is a sensitive man. During his criminal past he lived in a lair together with women and even children. This experience made him sensitive, and his relationship with the female party members is almost parental; after all, they are much younger than him. He easily accepts the diapers and is willing to be a caretaker. Harold, on the other hand, doesn’t like that relationship, but he has to accept magic and healing abilities. He accepts the women even if with a bit grumbling. Occasionally, he argues with Kennan about his alleged effeminacy. Michelle is glad she has found somebody willing to take care of her and doesn’t show any sign of embarrassment when she asks Kennan to change her diapers. She even does it publicly, in front of Harold to tease him. She also likes to tease Pricsilla by checking her diapers. Prissy could probably be teased a lot by anyone of the party! Though of course not in a malicious way. And if she ever finds herself out of mana, she’s gonna need everyone to pitch in and take care of her until she can move on her own again. She is also rather frail, like physically so she is of course going to need protecting in battle. More so than the average mage. That’s part of why her body reacts so negatively if she fires off too many spells.

Long time lurker. This is the first story I have written. Writing isn’t my strength, and It takes me forever to write, re-read, and rewrite. I have already written 20 chapters. I hope everyone finds this story different but interesting. This is a slow burn, but it does get into the diapers and regression. It will take a few chapters to really get into it. I can see this going for at least another 20 chapters on top of the twenty chapters already written. Chapter 1: The New Intern Avery let out a deep sigh of relief as he read the email he had just received from the biomedical technology department. He was finally being recognized for his hard work and dedication. His complex calculations and programming to demonstrate the interactions between a relatively new drug and a person's DNA had proven correct and valuable, leading to him being hired over a month ago - despite the doubt and ridicule from his colleagues. He leaned back in his chair, feeling overwhelmed with emotions. On the one hand, he was elated that his efforts were beginning to be acknowledged, but on the other hand, he felt uncertain if this would lead to further respect or more challenges from those who never believed in him. A sense of pride mixed with apprehension began to stir within him, thoughts of the potential applications of this research tumbling through his mind. Ever since Avery Sage was a little boy, he has experienced problems with keeping his pants dry. Maybe it had something to do with the car accident that claimed the lives of his parents. Perhaps the foster homes he cycled through caused him stress, or maybe he would have always had this problem. All he knew for sure was that he needed to wear protection when out in public because when he got stressed, his bladder gave way. As a result, whenever he left the security of his home, he wore pull-ups, which made him feel like a little kid and dampened his confidence. His confidence wasn't helped because he was only five foot and one inch tall for a young man. These anxieties certainly didn’t help his mental health. He suffered from depression, anxiety, and insomnia. He regularly saw a psychiatrist and was on medication, but life could still be a struggle. He thought back to his first week of work. Avery graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Mathematics and Biochemistry at the age of 18. A year later, he was offered an internship while working on his master's in Biochemistry and Genetics. Avery stepped through the doors of DNA Pharmacia, feeling equal parts nervousness and excitement. He had been preparing for this moment his whole life – the chance to finally earn some respect and prove all those who had doubted him wrong. Flashbacks filled his mind of all the running between foster care families he had endured; it had made his self-confidence falter, but nonetheless provided the motivation for him to finish high school years early and break free from the wings of his current foster family. Now was the time to show what he was made of. As Avery sat in the HR office, he wore his dress clothes for his first day, which was saying much– a little too large for his slim, small frame – but still managing to make him feel small and helpless against the world around him. People seemed to look through him everywhere he went as if he were invisible, yet he couldn't shake off the nagging sensation that all eyes were upon him. His shoulders sagged under the weight of defeat that shrouded his self-confidence. His wavery, untamed hair was combed back the best it could be. “Ok, Avery.” Julian, the HR representative, said. “You're done. You're officially an employee of DNA Pharmacia.” “I won’t let you down. I promise.” Avery smiled as he stood up and reached across the desk to shake Julian’s hand. Julian's expression was warm and encouraging as he shook Avery's hand. Julian was a tall, distinguished man in his late thirties, wearing a navy blue suit and a striped tie. His brown eyes twinkle with kindness, and he has a slight, friendly smirk while speaking to Avery. His handshake was firm but slightly frail, making Avery feel nervous that he had no idea if he could uphold such a promise. Doesn't everyone think that on their first day at work? Avery thought to himself. Julian just smiled back at him from his kind face, like he could read Avery's mind. “Great, I am hoping for good things from you. Shall I show you to your new desk and department?” Julian returned the smile. “Yes, please,” Avery followed Julian out of the room. They took two flights up in the elevator to a department called “Chemical DNA Sequencing Department.” and walked side-by-side down the long corridors of the main building. They passed glass panels on every wall and Avery marveled at how modern this building was. He watched sensors scanning vials of chemicals and equipment, feeding data into computers across the room. It was clear no money had been spared in making DNA a cutting-edge company. Every window they passed made him want to stop and ask what was happening; it all looked so exciting, and he couldn’t wait to start. All this made him forget that he secretly wore a pull-up underneath his clothes as protection was needed. It was down one of these corridors that Avery met an older man. The man had a strong jawline and sharp features, aged but wise. His eyes were a deep blue, crinkling at the corners when he smiled. His gray hair was neatly trimmed, and his beard was flecked with silver. He wore a crisp white shirt with black trousers and polished black shoes. He towered over Avery with an air of authority, yet his demeanor was warm and friendly. Avery recognized him from some of the interviews he had gone through to land this job. “Welcome! You must be our marvelous new intern. I am Bryan Wells, and you'll report directly to me! At your desk we have a laptop and a corporate iPhone with the works waiting there for you. From your resume and job interviews, my colleagues have noticed your peculiar knack for math and biochemistry, so we have an exciting task ahead for you! On your desk is a folder that outlines our challenge: debug a computational logic program that looks at DNA to determine designer drugs for fighting cancer. It's a riddle waiting to be solved - think you can do it? Report back any bugs as soon as possible, and we'd be grateful!” Bryan said cheerfully as he led Avery to his desk. “Yes, sir,” Avery replied. He would have agreed to do whatever Bryan needed. He was eager to impress. Bryan continued to talk to Avery. It was a one-sided conversation. Avery was too in awe of everything he was seeing to really contribute much. For him, this place was like a dream—top-level research with some of the smartest people in the world where his work could actually help people. Avery looked around the room. A long row of cubicles ran down one wall with a dozen or so scientists already hard at work on their projects. Avery's desk was tucked into the corner by an emergency exit. The light blue walls were sparse, containing only a few motivational posters and pictures of animals from Earth. Bryan led him to his chair and showed him how he could adjust it to fit him since the chair was probably to tall for him. Avery blushed a little but said nothing about it. Bryan reviewed with him how to log in to the server and the IT policies on using company-issued equipment. Bryan also went over where the relevant programs were located; he would review the folder with all the notes on the development of this program. “If you need anything, come to find me over there,” Bryan pointed to his private office. “The other scientists and engineers should be coming around to introduce themselves to you today.” “Ok, sounds good… And thank you for this opportunity,” Avery said as Bryan returned to his office. On that first day, he met a few scientists and a few engineers. They all seemed friendly enough, even though Avery didn’t have much to say. He wanted to just focus on the task at hand. He felt he had something to prove. Avery had been dealt a tough hand; growing up in the foster care system meant that he was constantly met with obstacles and negative comments. He was told time and again what he couldn’t do, but instead of accepting those limitations as his fate, he used them as motivation. Everyone’s doubts about him only strengthened his desire to prove them all wrong. The rest of the day was slow. Avery needed help concentrating on the program he had been asked to look at. Quite frankly, it was dull, and after seeing all the other scientists and engineers doing much more exciting things, Avery was keen to do something that felt more meaningful. This need to do something drew him to the thick handbook about all the research involved with this program and more. He was fascinated with it. Avery brought the program to his apartment that night. He abstained from indulging in his usual nightly video game escapades. Instead, he spent hours poring over the computational intricacies of DNA's involvement in cancerous growths, absorbed in deciphering the energy states of cancer cells. The realization that this program was an amalgamation of these complex calculations completely captivated him, particularly as he examined how the drug had to be manipulated to match the energy state of the cancer cells so that it would interact effectively with them. It was nothing less than astounding. As he delved deeper into the notes, he discovered a vexing inconsistency in one of the mathematical formulas that disrupted the programming and prevented it from reaching a conclusion on what drug was needed for treatment. Avery closed the notebook for the night, satisfied he knew what he could start looking at and he was glad to be out of the pull-up for the day. As he lay in bed, his mind kept running through what he had read. His insomnia medication meant he wasn’t awake for long, but even in sleep, it felt like his brain was searching through everything he had learned the previous day. The morning came too quickly as his alarm went off. “Ugh, I hate mornings,” Avery muttered as he hit the snooze button repeatedly. The alarm kept ringing, and every time it did, Avery reached out a hand and hit the snooze button again. It was an almost instinctive reaction to the annoying noise. His brain wasn’t clicking into gear. All he knew was that he wanted more sleep. At one point, as the alarm went, Avery pawed at the snooze button yet again but only ended up knocking his phone off the bedside table. “Oh shit,” He said as he looked up at the clock. It was 7:30 a.m. He was supposed to be at work at 8:00 a.m. His alarm had been going on and off since 6:00 a.m. this morning. Avery quickly removed his boxers and slipped on new pull-ups, light gray tan dockers, and a maroon golf shirt. He quickly wet down his hair and combed it back, knowing it would still look like a mess when his hair dried. Avery quickly left to grab the bus to work at 7:30 a.m. and hopefully be at work at 8:00 am. It was a rush, and Avery didn’t feel particularly ready, but as he walked out of the front door into the early morning air. He didn’t know how anyone could be a “morning person” when he always felt… tired. That morning, when Avery got to work, the first thing he did was get a large cup of coffee. Afterward, he sat down at his desk and began to take a look at the code. The code wasn’t easy to follow. It didn’t follow too much of a logical path in his mind. Two hours later, John Taylor, the most Sr, Engineer on the project and project lead, stopped by his desk. John was a 45-year-old engineer with a commanding presence and an ego to match. He stood at an imposing 6'2" and had a burly build that spoke of years of physical labor. Despite his advancing age, his muscles were still firm, and his torso remained taut, reflecting an unwavering commitment to physical fitness. Avery thought John's walk exuded confidence, each step resonating with a deliberate thud. His posture was impeccable, with his chest puffed out and his chin held high. He had a square jaw and piercing blue eyes that seemed to bore through any obstacle in their way. This made Avery very anxious to be around him. He was very much the opposite of Avery, who was dressed in a pair of tan dockers and a collared maroon shirt That he had quickly thrown on minutes before leaving the house. If someone were to judge Avery. They would say he dressed not to cause a stir and just wanted to blend in. The differences between the timid Avery and John, who exuded machismo and confidence, couldn’t have been starker. John wore an expensive suit that hugged his broad shoulders and accentuated his chiseled physique, a testament to his attention to detail and his love of the finer things in life. “Impressive work on one of my projects, huh?” John scowled as he snatched the notebook off his desk. “I wouldn't waste your time with all the irrelevant data scribbled in here. It'll do nothing but distract you.” He flicked it to the other side of his desk like an afterthought. Avery noticed John's hazel eyes were framed by creases that spoke to years of meticulous research studies and calculations. “I tried to get a grip on it, but honestly, I stumbled over the complex calculations necessary for developing designer drugs. Despite that, I was still captivated by the work yesterday." Avery sighed, not convinced of his own abilities to do this kind of research but determine to make a difference still. “Well, just weed out the bugs and get the program working. My team and I will take care of the rest.” Johns said with a condescending smile. “If you do that, you will do good here, kid!” “It’s just….” Avery started. He wanted to prove his knowledge by suggesting a change to the handbook. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.” John cut Avery off with ease. Avery felt a little put out by this overconfident man. He had been hired to be equal to all the other scientists, and yet John was acting like he was somebody hired to do data entry. He knew he could make the program run better and make the handbook better; he just needed John to listen to him. “I’m just thinking that if we…” Avery tried again. “If you have any suggestions, just write them down and slip them under my door,” John said as he started walking away without looking over his shoulder. The rest of the day went on without a hitch. A few people came by and tried to introduce themselves to him, but he kept the small talk to a minimum and just wanted to look over the program. Avery took a lot of notes that day. At the end of the day, he decided to retake the notebook home and leave the laptop at the office. He left the office at 4:30 p.m. to catch the bus at 5 p.m. If he missed the bus past 6 p.m., there wouldn't be another bus till morning. He was hungrier than normal because he skipped lunch all day to work on debugging the program. He stopped by a McDonald's and ordered a Big Mac. As he stood in line, he couldn't help but notice the Happy Meals on the counter, offering small Lego kits to children. It was a cruel marketing strategy to exploit parents and make them buy more Lego sets for their already spoiled kids. He knew this well, but it only reminded him of his own childhood, one filled with deprivation and lack of affection. He watched as the children played with their toys, ignoring the food in front of them - something he would have cherished as a child. But no, he was never allowed such frivolous things growing up; his foster parents made sure to remind him how unworthy he was of such luxuries. The memory brought back painful emotions that festered deep within him.

Hello everyone! Long time lurker but never poster. I've mostly written D&D campaigns, but after reading so many of Elfy's stories I wanted to try my hand at one myself. English is not my first language so I hope it's not too bad. Title might be a work in progress. I have more chapters planned out but I'd like to see the reception and perhaps get some feedback if possible. Thank you! I'll also provide i link to a google docs if the formatting doesn't work. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1SJRsBUVRJ00wRmzUBwhbcWuyhfvAulQgp_spXFbMGto/edit?usp=sharing Disclaimer: This story explores darker themes (see tags) that may feel unsettling. Please read at your own discretion. A Dependent Model Alicia Eriksson wasn’t your average 19-year old. She stopped measuring up to her peers several years ago…in height, anyway. Standing only about 3 feet 1 inch tall and weighing roughly 30 pounds created many vertical challenges in her life. It didn’t help that her natural, curly brown hair that gently brushed her shoulders gave her a very youthful look. She had to assert herself against many concerned mothers who tried — with good intentions — to help her out. They often thought she was a lost child while shopping in the supermarket or taking a stroll in the park. Sitting in said park Alicia scrolled through the jobsection of the local newspaper app. Across her sat the local playground, some trees, bushes and a flickering billboard that never seemed to get fixed. Alicia had tried several times to find a job. Her mother felt uncomfortable sending her to college since she believed Alicia didn’t always ‘think things through’. When she got a job, Alicia tried very hard to keep it, but her short stature proved a worthy adversary everytime, and she was fired. She tried waitressing; but constantly had to watch out or to be bumped into, which happened; a lot. She abhorred selling tickets at the cinema as people either ridiculed her or thought she was someone’s kid playing pretend. Data entering…well that was just boring really, but still! “Come on,” she said to herself with slight frustration, “Somewhere there’s bound to be a job for me. Where I don’t need to struggle all the time.” Her eyes then landed on a particular section of the app. “Huh, ‘Stars Modeling Agency now searching for new talents. Please apply by this afternoon’,” she read out loud. She pondered for a bit. “I guess it’s something I haven’t tried yet, but would they have clothes my size?” Scrunching up her face, she decided, “Well I can at the very least try. What’s the worst that could happen? Hmm, I should get there quickly before applications close.” Happy with her decision Alicia signed up for an interview on their website, wrote down the details of the place, and put them on her phone’s map. “Oh, it’s a bit across town, but closer than expected. I should be able to walk from the house and get there in 15 minutes or so. Alright, let’s get this bread!” Alicia confidently started to walk towards the Modeling Agency. Making her way across town, passing the cinema, an ice cream parlor and several houses on the way. In a small alleyway she could read out the starry sign of the agency. Inside she spotted a waiting room which was painted pastel blue, a counter with a receptionist and two other - what Alicia thought- prospective models. “Huh, weird that they are both here with their kids,” she remarked as she saw two toddlers playing with some dolls in a corner, but she didn’t pay any other attention to them. Alicia went up to the receptionist, a middle-aged woman wearing a cream-coloured cardigan. “Excuse me,” Alica said. The receptionist looked around for a bit before settling her eyes down on the diminutive woman. “I’m here for an interview with,” Alicia looked at her phone, “Sofia Juarez?” She looked at Alicia quizzically. “Hi sweetie, are you here with your mo-” “I’m here by myself, ma’am,” Alicia interrupted already knowing where the lady was going with her questions. “Here’s my ID card, I’d like to speak with Mrs. Juarez if I may?” The receptionist took Alicia’s ID and looked it over. “Well, certainly, Ms. Eriksson. Please have a seat in the meanwhile.” The woman gave Alicia back her card with an amused look on her face, but Alicia didn’t care for the woman’s expressions. Alicia grabbed a seat and started looking through her phone in the meanwhile not noticing the odd looks the other two women in the waiting room were giving her. After waiting an hour for her turn she was called into the office where Sofia Juarez was sitting. She wore business casual attire and had long raven-like hair sitting tightly in a ponytail in the back. “Ms. Eriksson?” she said with a professional tone when Alicia entered. “That’s me Mrs. Juarez. Thank you for taking your time seeing me,” Alicia said. The latina woman looked at Alicia with interest on her face. “It’s just miss for me as well. Please have seat, Ms. Eriksson, pardon if it’s not adjustable.” “I can manage it. Thank you,” Alica assured her and climbed up on the chair. “So, Ms. Eriksson,” Ms. Juarez began, “ have you ever modeled before?” “Honestly, no I have not. To be perfectly frank I’m quite jobstarved at the moment and I’m looking for any kind of opportunity I can get,” Alicia said believing that honesty would be her best bet. “I see, thank you for your candidness, Ms. Eriksson,” Ms. Juarez said and wrote some things in a document, “well we all have to start somewhere.” Alicia smiled, maybe she had a chance? “I assure you, ma’am that I’m a quick learner and even though I’m short I’ll try working really hard.” “Oh your height is of no issue, dear,” Ms. Juarez replied. “So you do carry clothes in my size? That’s very forward thinking, Ms. Juarez.” Alicia couldn’t believe the good news. “Oh yes of course. Don’t worry we have a large sortment of clothes for a woman of your stature. Now a few more questions before we conclude this interview.” Ms. Juarez proceeded to ask Alicia general questions, whether she grew up in town, where she sees herself in a few years etc. Alica answered all of Ms. Juarez’s questions to the best of her ability and looked on nervously as she looked over her clipboard, hoping her lack of experience wouldn’t be an issue. “Well Ms. Eriksson,” Ms. Juarez began, “I think Stars Agency have found their new talent.” “Really?” Alicia beamed. “Oh thank you, ma’am. I promise I won’t let you down.” The latina handed over a contract that Alicia was more than eager to sign without looking too closely at its contents. “I’m sure you will be an excellent addition to our little family, Ms. Eriksson.” “You can just call me Alicia, ma’am,” Alicia said beaming with energy. “Oh, then I insist you call me Sofia. ‘Ma’am’ makes me feel old," she said. Alica took a brief look at Sofia who appeared to be in her late 20s. “Of course, thank you for this opportunity, Sofia.” “You’re welcome, sweetie,” Sofia said with a genuine smile. The ‘sweetie’ comment didn’t even register in Alicia’s mind as she was too busy writing down her details in the contract. “So when should I start?” Alicia said eagerly. “Can you come in tomorrow Friday already? Our photographer Michelle will be available in the afternoon around three o'clock and I could give you some pointers and assist with clothing if necessary? There won’t be any other models in at that time so we could take some time for you to learn the ropes.” Alicia thought it seemed a little odd that the hiring manager would help with clothing, but maybe Sofia was a ‘hands-on’ type of person. Yet that thought did nothing to damper her mood. “Tomorrow afternoon three o'clock, I will be there!” Alica said, hopping off the chair. “Excellent, well Alicia I will see you then. And again, welcome to the family.” Alicia felt like she traveled on air while going back home. Even an inexperienced model could earn a lot in comparison to other professions at the current job market and she couldn’t wait to earn some money to increase her independency. I mean it’s not like living with mom is a bad thing, but a girl gotta spread her wings, right? She thought to herself as she passed the trees in the park with the flimmering billboard acting up as usual. Alicia paused for a bit to take in the nice summer’s breeze. “From here on out my life is going to change,” she said before continuing back to her house.

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

Hello All! It's been a while since I've posted a new story, but I'm back with a project I'm very excited about! "You Know What They Do to Girls Like Us in Brighter Days?" is the story of Rei Akiyama, a young girl trying to navigate through life in a near future dystopia where the age of majority has been raised to 28 for girls and regressive behavioral therapy has become popular to help girls adjust to these new laws. The world this story is set in is very strongly inspired by/based on the world building of Alteredstates, so a lot of credit goes to him! For those unfamiliar with Alteredstates, he does world building through ad copy and other cultural artifacts. While you don't need to be familiar with his work to understand and appreciate this story, I strongly recommend you check it out! Not only because it will help you immerse yourself in this world, but also because it's genuinely really good! You can find him on Tumblr, Twitter, and Patreon! Without further ado, I give you the prologue and first two chapters of "You Know What They Do to Girls Like Us in Brighter Days?" Prologue The night of Wednesday, October 4th, 2028, was unseasonably cold in the city of Greenham; snow was in the forecast for the next day in a city that rarely saw a snowflake until at least January. By 7:28PM, there were already flurries dancing through the cold wind that whipped through the dumpsters behind City Hall, where John Bennet, the head of City Hall security, stood with his foot propping open the emergency exit of the east stairwell. He blew out a lungful of smoke as he dropped his cigarette on the pavement below and crushed it beneath his shoe. John was nothing if not a creature of habit; so much so that, if one cared to be so observant, they could predict exactly what time John would take the last smoke break of his shift before he did his final sweep of the building. He would then go home to his shabby apartment. That night, however, was different. That night, John wouldn’t be going home; he would be meeting a 28-year-old girl he had met on the internet. That night, John’s phone rang just as he was about to go back inside. He fished his phone out of his pocket, smiling when he saw his date’s name on the caller ID, and swiped his finger across the screen as he raised the phone to his ear. “Hey, baby girl,” he said, trying to sound smooth, “I can’t wait to see you.” On the other end of the phone, a young-sounding voice poured honeyed words into his ear as he turned and walked back into the building. Another night, under less distracting circumstances, John would have almost certainly noticed that the door never clicked closed behind him, but the telling silence was lost amongst the words that sent his blood pumping. In a bar a few miles away, Edward Cook was ordering a drink for a girl who looked too young to be there. The girl blushed as she slid her ID and emancipation card across the counter at the bartender’s request, brushing her blue hair behind her ear to look coyly at Edward out of the corner of her eye as she did. Edward never even noticed the girl on the other side of him, or her hand as she slipped a hard plastic card at the end of a black lanyard out of his suit jacket pocket. The card, printed with Edward’s picture and the seal of the Office of Juvenile Affairs, disappeared into the girl’s clutch purse as she quietly slipped away from the bar. She checked the time on her phone as she stepped out into the frosty night: 7:34PM. Elsewhere, the number 9 county bus was pulling over for an unscheduled stop due to a disturbance on the bus involving three young girls. The driver, Richard Lawson, broke up the altercation with the help of another passenger and removed the girls from the bus. That taken care of, an exasperated Richard reported the incident to dispatch, who noted the number 9 bus was running ten minutes behind but was resuming his route at 7:47PM. Back at the courthouse, John, having finished his final sweep of the building and found nothing out of the ordinary, put the finishing touches on his security logs for the night and leaned back in his chair, eyes sweeping over the bank of CCTV monitors that showed snapshots of the interior of the courthouse. It was, however, the clock that John was truly focused on, his eyes constantly flicking between it and the monitors. The moment those numbers turned from 7:59 to 8:00PM, John pushed himself out of his chair and jabbed his finger at the button that caused all of the monitors to wink out simultaneously. Had he waited just a minute longer, he might have seen the black garbed figures slip in from the emergency exit in the east stairwell. He could have watched as they crept up that staircase and slipped into second floor hallway. Another camera would have shown the figures slink down the hallway, past the Permits Office and the Office of Parks and Recreation. On a third camera, the figures stopped in front of a frosted glass door with Office of Juvenile Affairs printed across it in thick, black block letters. One of the figures swiped a card by the panel next to the door, the light turned from red to green, and the figures quickly disappeared through the door. Later, security logs would be pulled showing Edward Cook had accessed the office at 8:04PM; the subsequent investigation would find Cook was not guilty of any direct involvement but would still lose his position on the grounds of gross negligence. By 8:15PM, Greenham City Hall was silent and empty. At 8:17PM, the number 9 county bus blew past the empty bus stop at the far end of the City Hall parking lot. On an ordinary night, Richard would typically idle at this station for a few minutes, but he was working hard to make up for lost time. The next few stops were just as empty, which wasn’t unusual for this time of night on a weekday. It was 8:34PM when the bus pulled up to the stop at Greenham Community College, where three girls and four boys boarded the bus, all of them in their late teens and early twenties. Richard Lawson wouldn’t even think to mention this to investigators later, though they likely would have made nothing of it if he had. By 8:50PM, the city of Greenham, a suburb of the nation’s capital city, was settling into its slumber. A few bars and restaurants were still pouring drinks for late night clientele, but curfew was quickly approaching and all those affected were either already home or else rushing to get there. At 8:54PM, the electric engine of the number 9 county bus was humming along through the streets of one such sleepy neighborhood, empty but for Ricard Lawson and a small handful of passengers: a young girl with black hair and tawny skin carrying a bookbag tight to her chest, two boys with their feet on the seats laughing raucously in the back of the bus, and a mother and a daughter riding together. Richard glanced up at the passengers in his rearview mirror and caught the eye of the daughter. She had bright blue eyes, a practical waterfall of golden curls, and looked to be in her early twenties. Richard smiled at the girl in the mirror; he had to admit, she was adorable in her pink shirt and plaid skirtall. She smiled back at him from behind the shield of her pacifier. The mother turned away from the book in her hand and leaned over the girl, slipping one hand up the girl’s skirtall. Richard quickly averted his gaze, suddenly feeling like he was invading their privacy. “Oh, Rebecca,” the older woman sighed quietly, but still loud enough to be heard easily on the otherwise silent bus, “your pull-up is soaked; did you even know you had to go?” The girl’s smile disappeared into her blush as she mumbled some words from behind her pacifier. The mother chuckled. “It’s alright, sweetheart,” she ruffled her daughter’s hair, “we’re almost home! Then we can get you changed into your nighttime diapers and feed you a nice bottle before bed, would you like that?” She booped her daughter’s nose and sent the girl into a fit of laughter. The black-haired girl shifted in her seat across from the mother and daughter, obviously trying to avoid looking at them. She glanced at her phone, 9:52PM. Richard Lawson shifted in his seat and tried to ignore the cooing and giggling going on behind him. Little single-family homes passed by as he made his way down Ridgemont Street, and only more in sight as he turned right down Wrighton Square. The bell dinged and Richard slowly pressed the brake, bringing the bus to a stop at the corner or Wrighton and Central Lake Drive. Richard wished his passengers a good night, stay safe, as they all got off. Glancing back in his rearview mirror to confirm the bus was empty, Richard slowly accelerated into the night. Peter Grant watched the bus pull away from the front seat of his Greenham Police Department Cruiser. He scanned the passengers leaving the bus stop. Two young men cross the street and kept walking up Wrighton Square while three women started walking up Central Lake Drive and toward his cruiser. He checked his clock: 9:56, damn near too late for young women to be out alone. “Let’s check it out,” he said to his partner, Dave Clusky, as he stepped out of the cruiser and started crossing the street towards the trio. As Peter approached, the women were backlit by a streetlamp, but he could make out the vaguely feminine shapes of three women. Two of them walked side by side as the third, at least a few inches shorter than the other two, walked a couple of feet behind. Peter raised his flashlight, “Excuse me, ladies,” he called out officiously as the beam of light cut through the night, bringing the slowly drifting flakes of snow into heavy contrast. The three ladies stopped in their tracks. The shorter of the two in front whimpered behind her pacifier and clung to the older woman next to her as they both blinked against the light. The girl behind them gasped inaudibly and stared ahead like a deer in headlights for a moment before raising a hand to protect her eyes from the worst of the light. “Evening, ma’am,” Peter nodded to the older woman, “these your children?” The woman glanced behind her, then back to Peter, “just this one,” she replied, squeezing Rebecca close to her. Peter nodded, “Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. Best get your little one inside, it looks to be about her bedtime.” The mother laughed politely, “yes, we’ve had a very long day, thank you, officer.” She tugged on Rebecca’s hand and quietly urged the girl on. Peter swept his flashlight over a few degrees to focus his beam on the girl in the white button up shirt and plaid suspender skirt. “Could you lower your hand, miss? How old are you?” “Uhm, nineteen,” she replied nervously, “I know it’s—” “It’s almost curfew,” Peter interrupted her, “you allowed to be out past curfew?” “Um, no, sir, I—” “Yeah, didn’t think so. What’s your name? What are you doing out so late?” “Um, Rei, sir, and I’m coming home from college, sir, I was—” “College?” Dave chimed in, “you got parental permission for that?” “Yes, sir, and I—” “What were you doing at college this late?” Peter asked. “You go to Greenham CC?” “Yes, sir, I was studying—” “Studying,” Dave scoffed, “yeah, right.” “I was, sir, I have—” “You got a pass from your professor?” Peter asked. “Yes, sir, it’s—” “Well?” Dave said impatiently. “Let’s see it,” Peter demanded. “Yes, sir,” the girl reached into her backpack and produced a folded sheet of paper that was immediately snatched out of her hand. “Professor Lewis? English?” Peter read key words off the piece of paper before handing it off to Dave. Dave looked the sheet over, made an annoyed sound in the back of his throat, then handed it back to Peter. “Looks legit” “You know it’s almost curfew, kid?” Peter turned back towards the girl, thrusting the paper back at her. “Yes, sorry, I was—” “Yeah, you were at college, you said. You live close by?” “Yes, sir, I—” “Where at?” “Just up the street,” she raised her hand and pointed behind Peter. “Uh huh,” Peter sounded skeptical. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time: 9:59PM. “Think you can get home before curfew hits, little girl?” He smiled maliciously. The girl’s knees went weak; she clutched her bag to her chest as if it could protect from him the malice in his smile. Her vision tunneled in on the face of Peter Grant and the world around her sounded like it was moving through water. Tick. 10:00PM. As curfew went into effect all over Greenham and it’s surrounding townships, the eastern wing of the Greenham City Hall exploded outward, raining fire and rubble into it’s expansive parking lot. The sound of the explosion tore through the still night air, audible as a low rumbling miles away on Central Lake Drive. A portion of the horizon of the night sky lit up. “The fuck…?” Peter cursed. “Fuck me!” Dave swore. The girl let out a quiet yelp and resisted the urge to make a break for it. Silence filled the air in the aftermath of the explosion, and then the radios on Dave and Peter’s shoulders started squawking. They completely forgot about the girl as they scrambled back to their cruiser. Chapter One Snowflakes were melting in Rei Akiyama’s hair as she slumped against the front door of her house. She was still shaking and trying to steady her breath. “You’re late,” a voice said from the living room. “I know, I’m sorry, Mom,” Rei said, still panting slightly as she took her shoes off before entering the room. “The bus was running late; I ran all the way here from the bus stop.” Ms. Akiyama made a sound in her throat as she looked her daughter up and down. “You were studying? Let me see your pass.” “Yes, Mom,” Rei said as she pulled out the now slightly crumpled piece of paper out of her bag and handed it over. “You’re working too hard in school,” Ms. Akiyama said matter-of-factly. “Well, whatever, I’m glad you’re home,” she discarded the paper on the end table, “I was starting to get worried when I heard that rumbling. Did you hear that?” “Yes, Mom,” Rei nodded and chewed on her lip, unsure what else to say on the topic. “Rei, stop chewing your lip, it’s a bad nervous habit.” “Yes, Mom, sorry.” Rei forced herself to stop and instead just looked down at her shoes. “Well?” Ms. Akiyama asked expectantly a moment later. “It’s almost bedtime; shouldn’t you be getting ready for bed? The news said we were supposed to get a few inches of snow, so school will probably be cancelled tomorrow, but I want you in bed on time just in case, okay?” “Yes, Mom,” Rei replied. She tried her best not to turn and run up the stairs, but instead walked casually up them as if it had just been a normal night of studying. Her mother watched her go, sensing something was off about her daughter, but she was unable to put her finger on what, exactly, she was sensing. Rei stopped briefly at the top of the stairs, turned back, and gave a small smile and wave when she saw her mother was still watching, then disappeared around the corner. Ms. Akiyama sighed quietly: what was she going to do with that girl? She was worried what kind of ideas her school was filling her head with, and Rei being out all-night studying didn’t do anything to allay that worry. Picking up the pass Rei had given her, Ms. Akiyama turned and settled back down on the couch. According to the pass, Rei had been working on her midterm essay for English with Professor Lewis. Sighing once more, she set the note aside, making a mental note to ask Rei what she was writing her essay about (maybe that would give her a clue on exactly what kind of idea’s the school was filling Rei’s head with), and turned her attention back to the TV where a mature looking woman was smiling back at her while holding a colorful package. “That why I decided to try new Pampers Overnight Diapers! They are expertly designed for girls who wet the bed,” as the woman delivered the line, she reached her free hand out the side and pulled a young girl of about eight or ten into the frame and into a side hug, “and those who don’t,” the camera pulled out and panned over to reveal an older girl about Rei’s age staring distractedly at her phone seemingly oblivious to her surroundings, “yet,” the mother added after a beat and punctuated it with a wink. Upstairs, Rei leaned against the wall, just out of sight, focusing on getting her breathing back to normal. The night hadn’t gone exactly as planned, but, so far, nothing had gone terribly wrong. She could only hope it stayed that way. Rei pushed herself away from the wall and made her way down the hallway towards her bedroom, closing her door behind her just as downstairs the TV alerted her mother to breaking news. As Ms. Akiyama was stunned to hear of the bombing just a few miles from her, Rei was tossing her backpack on the floor next to her desk and throwing herself face down on her bed. She was slightly dazed and more than exhausted. Part of her couldn’t believe the events of the night. Yes, they had been making plans for weeks now, she had known this night was coming, but now that it was done…it felt surreal. She was terrified of what would come next. Still, there was one more thing she had to do before this night was over. Rei crept back to her bedroom door, listened carefully, then cracked the door ever so slightly. The distant sounds of the TV still drifted up the stairs and the hallway was empty. Closing the door silently, she rushed across the carpet in socked feet to her desk, which, looking back over her shoulder towards the door, she inched away from the wall. Kneeling down, Rei reached behind the desk and pried off a piece of the baseboard to reveal a small crevice between the wall and the floor from which Rei produced a cell phone at least a decade old. It was black with a silver lined screen and a numeric keyboard. Rei brought up the messaging app only to be greeted with over a dozen texts; each was from a different number, but they all said the same thing: “home safe.” She sighed with relief, painstakingly typed out her own missive (“home safe”) on the numeric keyboard and pressed send before immediately replacing the phone in its hiding place and putting everything back in order. Now, Rei thought, it was time to get ready for bed. Chapter Two “It was confirmed early this morning that there were no casualties or injuries in last night’s explosion at the Greenham City Hall, which occurred at exactly 10PM and destroyed most of the building’s eastern half. While authorities have yet to make any statements regarding the cause of the explosion, many are already speculating that this was an act of domestic terrorism committed by the radical leftist feminist group Rebel in response to recent social policy legislation restricting the rights of women under twenty-eight. Supporters of this theory have been quick to point out that the offices of the newly established Office of Juvenile Affairs, which was formed to enforce these new policies, was located in the eastern wing of the Greenham City Hall. We’ll be sure to bring you all the breaking details on this story as it develops. Back to you in the studio, Steve.” As the news switched back to less interesting stories, Ms. Akiyama turned her attention away from the tablet propped up on the kitchen counter and back to the cast iron skillet in front of her where the pancakes were beginning to form bubbles along the edge of the batter. She flipped them with the kind of perfection that only came with years of practice and shook her head, it was just terrible what had happened. She knew some people thought the new laws were going too far, but surely bombing buildings was going just as far, if not further. No, it wasn’t the proper way to go about voicing dissent at all. And if this was the kind of stuff feminism was preaching these days, maybe there was some sense to these new laws. Certainly they didn’t teach girls to behave that way when she was younger. Ms. Akiyama just prayed Rei’s head wasn’t being filled with this kind of stuff at that college she had begged so hard to go to. Maybe it wasn’t too late to put her in a vocational school; with a little discipline, Rei could make an excellent secretary. Or maybe she could get Rei a job working at a daycare; Rei always liked children, and maybe tapping into Rei’s maternal instincts was just what was needed to make sure she stayed on the right path. Or, there was always… No, no, Ms. Akiyama shoved that thought away. Rei was a good kid; a bit headstrong, but a good kid, surely that option was too drastic. Ms. Akiyama sighed as she stacked the pancakes on the steadily growing pile; she just wanted Rei to be safe and have a nice, happy life. She didn’t want her daughter falling in with the wrong crowd and getting herself in trouble. It wasn’t easy raising a daughter in such complicated times. Ms. Akiyama was still musing on such matters when Rei shuffled sleepily into the kitchen, almost instinctively following the smell of pancakes. “Pancakes?” Rei asked hopefully. “Does that mean school is canceled?” Mom typically never made pancakes on weekdays. “It sure does,” Ms. Akiyama replied cheerfully, trying to hide the somber mood the news had put her in. “Have you looked outside? We got quite a lot of snow!” Rei grinned and rushed out of the kitchen and into the living room and its bay window overlooking their front yard and the street beyond. Everything was white and brilliantly bright in the morning sun, covered in what must have been at least five or six inches of snow. Even the road was covered; it seemed like the snowplows hadn’t made it to their neighborhood yet. Rei couldn’t help but stare out the window in wonderment; she had always loved the snow. There was just something magical about it. Behind her, Ms. Akiyama leaned against the door frame and grinned. When it came to snow, kids were always kids. “Come on,” Ms. Akiyama said after giving Rei a few moments to take in the wintery spread, “the pancakes are getting cold.” She turned and headed back in to the kitchen without checking to make sure Rei was following her. The news was once again talking about last night’s incident, so Ms. Akiyama quickly turned it off as she grabbed the plate of pancakes; she didn’t want to upset Rei with such terrible news first thing in the morning. “So,” Ms. Akiyama said as she set the plate of pancakes on the table and Rei settled into her seat, “you were working on an essay with your professor last night?” She grabbed the syrup from the fridge before settling into her own seat. “Um, yeah,” Rei responded simply as she loaded her plate with pancakes, “my midterm essay,” she added after a moment. “Oh, that’s nice,” Ms. Akiyama passed the syrup across the table and took a couple pancakes off the stack for herself. “What’s it about?” “Um,” Rei was drenching her pancakes in syrup, “well, it’s…well, our professor gave us some articles to choose from and we just have to like respond to one of them.” “Interesting, what kind of articles?” “Just, you know, current events stuff.” “Uh-huh, and what article did you choose?” Sure, Ms. Akiyama was testing the waters, trying to see what kind of stuff Rei was learning at school, but, to her credit, she was genuinely interested in her daughter’s life. Rei, on the other hand, was getting nervous. Her mother didn’t usually ask her this many questions about her schoolwork. Rei liked that her mother didn’t ask her about her schoolwork. Rei thought the less her mother asked about her schoolwork, the better. Why was her mother suddenly interested? She thought about lying, but if her mother asked to see the essay, she’d be caught immediately. “Well, just about…about the passing of The Hayes Act…” “Oh, I see.” Rei shoveled a too large bite of pancakes into her mouth to avoid having to respond. Oh, I see? What did that mean? Rei tried to smile around the bite of pancakes, but her eyes were searching her mother’s face for anything that might hint to her true reaction. Ms. Akiyama worked to keep her face as passive as possible, raising her cup and taking a long, slow sip of coffee to help her efforts. She had barely discussed the act with her daughter since its passage six months ago. She hadn’t needed to much, and it had always felt like such a…touchy subject. “Why did you choose that article?” Ms. Akiyama asked, trying hard to sound casual but interested and definitely non-confrontational. Just a mom interested in her daughter’s schoolwork. Rei speared a hunk of pancake with her fork and cut it away from the rest with her knife, “Um, I just thought the article was interesting,” she spoke with her head down, giving her voice a muffled quality. “What was the article about?” Ms. Akiyama knew Rei had strong feelings about The Hayes Act, and she couldn’t blame her. Rei had turned nineteen a month before the law had passed; she had been an adult for thirteen months when she once again became a child in the eyes of the law for another nine years. Of course, Ms. Akiyama understood why her daughter felt so strongly about it; she respected Rei’s passion, but she wished Rei could accept that there was nothing that could be done. She wished Rei could just accept that the world wasn’t what her mother had promised it would be she told Rei she could grow up to be whatever she wanted. “Just,” Rei shrugged, “I guess the author was talking about how it shouldn’t have passed and stuff…” The two were in a minefield; they both knew it. Neither wanted this to end in an explosion, but one couldn’t leave, and the other couldn’t leave well enough alone. “Oh,” Ms. Akiyama said, “do you talk about that kind of stuff a lot in school?” The last time they had discussed The Hayes Act had been when it had come time for Rei to enroll in her second year at Greenham Community College. With Rei then legally a child, she needed Ms. Akiyama’s permission to continue attending college. Ms. Akiyama could have stopped her; she had certainly been tempted to do it. Rei shrugged, “What do you mean ‘that kind of stuff’?” “Stuff like The Hayes Act? Politics?” “I guess, sometimes.” “What kind of stuff do they teach you about it?” Rei shrugged, “I mean, they just like…explain how it came to be. Historically, you know?” “I see.” Ms. Akiyama could sense her daughter getting…defensive? Evasive? She was certainly becoming something. Maybe it was time to pump the brakes. “I just worry,” Ms. Akiyama said, genuinely thinking it would help defuse the situation. “Worried?!” Rei said a little too loudly, “there’s nothing to worry about, Mom!” “It’s just…I hear a lot these days about what kinds of things colleges are teaching and—” “Mo-om!” “—and I don’t want them filling your head with the wrong kinds of ideas, that’s all!” “Mom, they are not…brainwashing me, okay?” “I didn’t say brainwashing, okay? I just hear what kinds of things colleges teach these days, that’s all,” Ms. Akiyama repeated. Rei slumped in her chair. Her mom had managed to ruin pancakes. “I just want you to be happy,” Ms. Akiyama said after a long, awkward pause. She reached across the table to take her daughter’s hand. “College just makes things harder for most girls these days, and, besides, you study so much, it’s not good for you.” “But I like school, Mom. It makes me happy.” “Well, why don’t we sign you up for one of those extended high school for girls programs?” Ms. Akiyama smiled, genuinely thinking it would be a good suggestion. “Ugh, Mom,” Rei withdrew her hand and shot her mother a withering look, “those are just housewife classes.” “There’s nothing wrong with that, Rei!” “I’m not saying there is,” Rei protested, “it’s just not what I want to do.” “I know, you want to be a teacher, but I just don’t…well…you can’t be a teacher for another nine years, what if by then they don’t let women be teachers anymore?” A silence fell over the room as both mother and daughter felt the weight of that thought. It was a legitimate concern. “I don’t know, Mom,” Rei said at last, sounding crestfallen. “But what am I supposed to do?” Ms. Akiyama frowned. Like most mothers, deep down she just wanted her child to be happy. Part of her really wished her child could have her dream, but most of her knew it simply wasn’t meant to be and there was nothing that could change that. Most of her just wanted to help Rei find another way to be happy. Without a word, Ms. Akiyama rose from the table and cleared their plates. Breakfast was clearly over. On her way out of the kitchen, she lightly ruffled Rei’s hair, “Go on,” she said, “enjoy your snow day, okay? But just…think about the extended high school program?” Rei nodded.

May 22, 2016 Hi, I’m Eddie. This isn’t a diary; it’s a journal. I like to write, and I want to become a better writer, so I decided to start a journal. My teacher said writing in a journal is a good way to become a better writer. I wasn’t sure what to write about, so I asked my teacher. She said, “Write about yourself, it’s what you know best.” Well, what can I say about myself? Let’s start with the biggest thing. I’m fifteen years old, and I still wet my bed. It’s not even just sometimes. It happens almost every night. I haven’t been dry since January. That’s right! I’m in high school and I’ve peed my pants 134 nights in a row. My mom used to keep track of stuff like that, but she stopped a few years ago. I still keep track, but I don’t know why. It makes me feel like a baby. Some kids stop wetting the bed when they are two years old, and most stop when they are three. I’m fifteen, and I still pee in the bed like a little baby. I guess there are some other teenagers who wet the bed, but for most of them, it’s because something happened that they can’t control. It’s not like they aren’t fully potty-trained. I’ve done this all of my life. I’ve never stopped. The longest streak I’ve ever had is three nights in a row, and that only happened once. A few years ago, I thought it was getting better. When I was twelve years old, I didn’t wet the bed every single night. It still happened, and it happened a lot. It happened more often than not, but I stayed dry at least once a week; that’s when I had my three-night streak. I certainly didn’t wet my bed 134 nights in a row! That’s for sure. Unfortunately, it stopped. I began to wet the bed more often than before, and not less. My doctor thinks I’m sleeping sounder because I’m growing. Trust me, it feels like we’ve tried everything. We tried the medicine, but that just made me feel sick and I still wet the bed. We tried an alarm, but that just woke everybody else up. I slept through it and still wet the bed. My mom used to wake me up in the middle of the night to take me to the bathroom, but I hated it. Who wants to be an eleven-year-old kid who needs his mommy to take him to the potty? Most of the time, I didn’t even remember using the bathroom. Sometimes I was already wet. My mom would change my sheets, and I would wet the bed again. I’m not allowed to drink anything after six o’clock and I can only drink one glass of juice after school. I’m always thirsty and it’s not even helping. My mom made us wear diapers when I was younger, but she stopped when my little sister didn’t need them anymore. Emily was only four years old and could stay dry all night. She didn’t need diapers anymore, but her big brother and big sister still did. Sara was twelve years old and had to wear a diaper every night! I can’t imagine being that old and having to wear a diaper. Mom didn’t even use Pull-ups; she used Pampers! We wore the largest size she could find. I was nine and Sara was twelve, and my mom treated us like we were babies. After that, Sara didn’t want to wear diapers anymore. She threw a couple of tantrums, which only got her in trouble. It never changed Mom’s mind. One night she begged. She promised to do the laundry if she wet the bed. Amazingly my mom agreed. She said, “You two aren’t babies anymore. No more diapers, but you have to take care of your bed.” I think it worked for Sara, but it never worked for me. I thought maybe I would stop when I turned thirteen, just like it did with Sara, but it didn’t. Now, I use Goodnites, which are kind of like diapers. They are padded like diapers, but my mom doesn’t have to put them on me. They are meant for older kids, and don’t have little kid designs. Mom says that nobody can tell when I’m wearing one, but I think it’s pretty obvious. Unfortunately, they leak! They don’t leak all the time, but it happens a lot. I think I just pee too much. Sometimes, I forget to put my sheets in the washing machine. When that happens, my mom gets mad. Yesterday she yelled at me, “For God sakes Eddie! You’re fifteen years old. You shouldn’t wet the bed and you’re old enough to take care of it when you do. The least you can do is put the sheets in the washing machine.” I think my mom is frustrated and I understand why. Who wants to have a teenager who isn’t fully potty-trained? My mom is normally supportive and tries to help. Yesterday, after yelling at me about the sheets, she told me about a doctor who can help older kids who wet the bed. His name is Dr. Albert Bennet. Apparently, his program takes about six months. He said that 80 percent of his patients stopped within a year, and those who didn’t, learned how to manage their bedwetting. They recondition your brain, and you learn not to wet the bed anymore. Mom asked, “What do you think?” “I think it looks good.” “If we do this, will you follow the rules? I don’t want to do this if you won’t cooperate.” “I guess so. What do I have to do?” “I’m not sure, but conditioning means that you’ll have to do something. Do you want to try it?” I told her, “Yeah, I guess so. Yes, I’ll try anything. I don’t want to wet my bed anymore, and if this helps, I’ll try it.” Mom replied, “Okay, we’ll set up an appointment with Dr. Bennet.” I don’t know what they mean by conditioning my brain, nor what it looks like to manage my bedwetting. I don’t care, I just want to stop wetting my bed. I want to be potty-trained before I go to college.

Before we start, I would like to point out that this is an experiment. It relies on audience participation. If there is none, it will probably be ended before the story is complete. To make a long story short (pun intended), this will be sort of a collective choose-your-own-adventure story. At the end of each part of the story, there will be two alternatives to determine where the story goes next. You, being the audience, will have the opportunity to vote on these two alternatives. Please note: Only votes cast at The Scriptorium will be counted. (That is, after all, where I primarily post my work.) I will count the votes seven days after the story has been posted, and then proceed to write the next part based on which alternative gets the most votes. (If you have a suggestion you think is better than mine, feel free to add that to your vote. I might incorporate it somehow.) This introduction is fairly long but the following parts will be shorter, giving you all ample opportunity to influence the plot. Updates to the story will be posted at the same time both here and at The Scriptorium. Now, with that out of the way, on to the story. ----- THE ORDER Maria stared at the holographic screen floating in front of her, its dim glow casting long shadows on the walls of her tiny apartment. At 27, she felt like she was living someone else’s life, a life she hadn’t chosen and couldn’t escape. Her job as a data entry clerk for a mid-tier interstellar shipping company was as soul-crushing as it was mundane. The endless stream of numbers and codes blurred together, a monotonous symphony of mediocrity for a paycheck that barely covered her rent. Her personal life wasn't much better. Relationships, whether with men or women, always ended in disaster. There was Jake, who ghosted her after three months. Then came Sara, who accused her of being too clingy. And let’s not forget Alex, who turned out to be married. Each failure left her more jaded, more convinced that she was unlovable, destined to be alone. Most nights were spent scrolling through the vast expanse of the galactic net, searching for something, anything, to distract her from the gnawing emptiness inside. Her fingers danced across the keyboard, half-heartedly chasing rabbit holes of trivia and gossip. That’s when she saw it: a fleeting mention of something called *The Maternal Covenant*. The name caught her eye, not because it was flashy or bold, but because it felt... familiar, like a whisper from a dream she couldn’t quite remember. Curious, she dug deeper. But the more she searched, the more elusive the Covenant became. She spent weeks obsessing over it, her already lacklustre work performance suffering. There were no official websites, no clear descriptions, only vague hints and second-hand accounts on fringe forums. Some called it a religious order, others a cult. One forum post described it as "a place where the lost find home," while another warned it was "a one-way ticket to oblivion." One poster claimed their sister had joined and never contacted them again. And yet another said they’d received an invitation but had been too afraid to accept. There was even a cryptic reference to a "mother" who led the order. Maria devoured every scrap of information she could find, but the Covenant remained shrouded in mystery. The only consistent detail was that members of the Covenant gave up their former lives entirely, severing all ties to the outside world. It was as if the Covenant deliberately stayed out of reach, a ghost in the machine. Then, one evening, weeks after her initial discovery, an email appeared in her inbox. It was unmarked, untraceable, and addressed directly to her. The subject line read simply: Invitation. Her heart raced as she opened it. The message was brief but direct: Ms Rosso, you have been invited to join The Maternal Covenant. We sense your longing for connection, your desire for purpose. We offer you a place among us. To find us, travel to the planet New Mojave, coordinates attached. You have ten days to decide. This is a one-time invitation. Accept or decline, but know that once the door closes, it will not open again. Attached were detailed instructions on how to reach New Mojave, a remote planet on the outskirts of colonised space, barely inhabited and rarely visited. The message ended with a single line: The choice is yours, child. Maria read the email over and over. Her mind whirled with questions. How did they know about her? How did they find her? And more importantly, should she go? The following days were a blur of agonizing deliberation. She thought about her job, her tiny apartment, her handful of acquaintances who barely qualified as friends. What would she be leaving behind, really? But then there were the warnings, the whispers of cults and brainwashing, the fear of losing herself entirely. What if this was a mistake? What if she was walking into a trap? Was it even real at all, or just some elaborate hoax? She considered talking about it with her co-worker Jenna, but how could she explain the pull she felt toward something so unknown? Jenna would think she was crazy, or worse, desperate. So Maria kept it to herself, her secret weighing heavier each day. Yet, the pull persisted. It wasn’t just curiosity anymore; it was something deeper, a longing she couldn’t name. She found herself staring at the stars through her apartment window, imagining New Mojave out there, waiting for her. Waiting to give her something she’d never had. On the ninth day, she made her decision. She booked a ticket to New Mojave, her hands trembling as she confirmed the purchase. She packed a single bag, realising how sad it seemed that most of her meagre belongings fit in it. As she stood in her empty apartment, she felt a strange sense of peace. For the first time in years, she wasn’t running from something, she was moving toward it. The journey to New Mojave was long and solitary. Maria booked a seat on a cargo freighter, the cheapest option available, and she spent most of the trip in her cramped quarters, staring at the walls and second-guessing herself. The freighter’s crew barely acknowledged her existence, which suited her just fine. She wasn’t in the mood for small talk, not when her entire life was hanging in the balance. As Maria stepped off the freighter, New Mojave greeted her with a stark, otherworldly beauty. Tall, jagged mountains rose on all sides of the spaceport, and the sky above them was a deep shade of blue, almost violet. The air smelled faintly of something sweet she couldn't identify. The closest city was New Newcastle, a name that annoyed Maria with its lack of imagination, and she was waiting for the transport there when she heard her name over the spaceport speakers, asking her to come to the Teranic Trans-galactic Transport desk. It took Maria a while to find it, since Teranic Trans-galactic Transport, despite its ambitious name, turned out to be a small ore-hauling company. Their desk hidden away in a corner of the goods terminal of the spaceport and manned by a single, middle-aged man wearing a dusty jumpsuit. "Yeah?" the man said, looking up from his screen when Maria cleared her throat. "Maria Rosso." Maria pointed up at the speakers. "Oh. Yeah. We have a charter for you. I just need to see some ID." Maria fumbled around in her bag, pulling out her ID card and handing it over. The man scanned the card and handed it back to her. "Shuttle 3," he said and pointed to the door to the loading docks The shuttle turned out to be a cargo hauler. As she approached, the cockpit door opened and a head popped out. "You my passenger?" the pilot asked around an enormous wad of gum. "Yeah, if you're shuttle 3." "Yep. Hop in." Maria climbed into the cramped cockpit and barely had time to strap into the spare seat and put on the offered ear muffs before the engines rumbled to life. The next several hours was spent in silence, with the exception of a couple of stops to unload or pick up cargo. She learned that her coordinates were on the outskirts of one of the many deserts in the equatorial regions. Eventually, the pilot pointed out the window and mimicked landing his hand on the console between the seats. They landed with a heavy thump that made Maria feel like her stomach took a little trip down to her pelvis before bouncing back up to its usual position. The pilot shut down the engine so the dust they had kicked up would settle. "You sure this is your stop?" he asked. "This is literally the middle of nowhere." Maria looked out the window at the ochre cloud outside. "These are the coordinates, right?" "We're about as accurate as this baby can get. So it's about two hundred metres or so in..." The pilot checked his instruments, then pointed forward and slightly to the right. "...that direction. I figured you'd want some distance for when I take off." Maria only nodded. "Look. I'm coming back this way the day after tomorrow. If you're still here, I'll give you a lift back." "I'm sure that won't be necessary," Maria reassured him. "But thank you for the offer." She picked up her bag and climbed out of the cockpit. Walked ahead in the direction the pilot had pointed, stopping when she had reached what she figured was a safe distance. Then she turned and gave a thumbs-up signal. As she turned and continued to walk, she heard the engines starting up and felt them kicking up sand and grit, stinging the back of her neck. Then the transport was gone and Maria was left in a silence unlike anything she had heard for years. There was no hum of machinery. No people talking. Nothing. She looked around. There was nothing to see either. No buildings, no people, practically no vegetation save for a few scraggly bushes here and there. In short, it was just her, the sand, and an absolutely spectacular sunset. "I guess I wait," she said to herself. Mostly to fill the silence. She sat down on the warm sand. The horizon still held a hint of red when she heard it: a distant whine of engines. It gradually grew louder as a small silver ship descended and landed. Maria picked up her bag and walked over to it. As she approached a door opened silently. She looked inside the empty cabin. The ship had to be either remote controlled or automated since there didn't seem to be any cockpit nor a pilot. There was a small piece of cardboard with her name on one of the seats. Maria climbed in and sat down. The trip was a lot quieter and smoother than the previous one and eventually, Maria nodded off. She awoke as the ship landed and an alarm began chiming softly. Through the open door, she could see lush grass and tall trees lit by the twin moons. Then she saw it. It was as if someone had tried to carve a gothic cathedral out of a dark mountain, but stopped when they were half-finished and then let it melt. There were curves that looked almost organic, but also symbols carved into the smooth walls, giving it the appearance of being both natural and artificial; both grown and constructed. A dimly lit path led from the landing path to the building. Following the path, Maria arrived at a large wooden door. She paused. This was it. The moment of no return. Her mind raced with doubts. What if they’re not what they seem? What if I lose myself? What if I’m making the biggest mistake of my life? But beneath the fear, there was something else, a flicker of hope, a whisper of possibility. What if this was the answer? What if, for once, she would belong? Maria took a deep breath, steeling herself. Then, with a resolve she didn’t know she possessed, she knocked. ----- Who answers the door? Edit (15.April): Please note that if you want your vote to be counted, you HAVE TO cast your vote at The Scriptorium. Alternative 1: A large robot with a spotlessly polished chrome plating Alternative 2: A woman wearing a long, flowing robe with a hood that hides most of her face her face.

Long time lurker. This is the first story I've ever written. It's set in @bbykimmy’s Keeperverse. I haven’t seen a story set here in a while, so I thought I’d write my own. If you’re unfamiliar, it’s a world where people can randomly pair off in a biological bond of Keeper and human pet. The pet is legally owned by the Keeper and kept in diapers. Like an ABDL dynamic, but a publicly understood and accepted phenomenon. @bbykimmy's story Keeper's Pet got me to see how hot petplay can be, and Jeff’s Story by @justforfun solidified it for me. I definitely "borrowed" a lot from those 🙂. I tried my best not to contradict established lore. It’s a fun sandbox to explore. As a disclaimer, I’m not much of a writer. I’m not really concerned with things like story structure or pacing. This is just pure smutty fantasy for me. Also it’s not short. I like the little details of scenes like these. I have 40k words written so far. Hope you enjoy. *** Chapter 1- Undone I was clamoring through the halls of an office building on my way to a client meeting when it happened; the earth-shattering, mind-altering experience of the Bond. All it took was one shared look. A single moment of eye contact. You think you know who you are, and what your life is, and then in a split second everything you thought you knew is swallowed up by a single desire; be near her. Do anything you have to be hers and please her. Her eyes, her scent, her warmth, her entire aura become my world in an instant and eclipsed everything else I had ever experienced. We shared that look of shock, realization, horror, and most of all, deep affection, and that was it. The Bond. “Come here, pet” was all it took for her to say and I was a submissive puddle. My head buried itself down into her chest as her arms engulfed my body. I barely even noticed the tears in my eyes or the warmth spreading in my pants. Picture the safest you’ve ever felt. The most loved. The most you’ve ever felt like you belonged. And then multiply it by ten, twenty, by a thousand. It still wouldn’t come close to the Bond. But after you’re hit with the flood of animal endorphins, a flood of human anxiety mixes in. What about my life? My future? My freedom? What, I’m just a pet now? I can’t be just a fucking pet! Who even is this person? But a truth you feel in your bones fights those doubts; she’s my Keeper. We had slumped to the floor against the wall where she held me, softly shushing my whimpers and stroking my hair. “I’m here now. I’ve got you, pet. You’re safe,” she cooed, “I’m going to take care of you. You're mine.” Everything went fuzzy. I didn’t know if we were there minutes or hours before my brain turned back on. I opened my eyes and saw a few people staring at us out of a door down the hall. Seeing a Bond take hold wasn’t that uncommon, but like seeing a police scene, everybody always wanted to gawk. I felt half-dried tears on my face as I pried my head out of her chest to look up to her anxiously. My eyes met hers. Her eyes. Oh my god, her eyes. Like two pools of forever telling me everything was going to be okay. “Well hey there.” She spoke so gently, warmly inviting me into her presence. “That’s one way to meet someone.” We shared a small laugh through the awkward confusion of what had just happened. “Hi,” I said meekly, words escaping me. “Hello, Oliver. My pet,” she said, as if confirming it for herself. “You— you know my name?” She held up my wallet. Duh. “You were pretty out of it. I guess I just had to know who I was holding in my arms.” “Oh.” “I’m Annie.” Annie. Like a tidal wave her name washed over me and solidified her identity as my Keeper into the deepest parts of psyche. My world’s name was Annie. She had wavy, auburn hair that fell just beneath her shoulders. She was a little shorter than me and somewhere around the same age best I could tell; 30-ish. Her impossibly brown eyes smothered me like a comfy weighted blanket. And she smelled incredible. I’d never smelled anything like it before. I now felt my wet pants, soaked with my own urine, which had cooled. My face burned with embarrassment and shame. I was just lucky my bowels didn’t let loose too. The Bond made pets varying degrees of incontinent and I had heard of it happening. “What does this mean?” I asked. “It means we’ve found each other. I’m your Keeper, and you’re my pet. The rest is just…details, that we’ll figure out. But we’ll be together." Warm contentment rippled through me upon hearing her words. My Keeper. “You alright, Annie?” a male voice called down the hall. I couldn’t bring myself to tear my gaze away from Annie to see who was intruding on our embrace, but I hated him for it. “Yeah, I’m good, Mark,” she called back. “Just a bit of an unexpected situation, here.” She laughed a bit. “Could you do me a big favor? Go get Kaitlin and tell her I need a ride?” “Of course!” And I heard a door close. “I have my car here,” I blurted out, without thinking. She laughed, like the way you would at a child who has said something amusing. “So do I, sweetie. But now that I’ve found you, I just don’t think I can let you go. It’s easier if someone drives us.” I felt stupid. Of course we wouldn’t be taking my car. It just stopped being my car at all, didn’t it? I thought. Pets can’t drive. I then noticed the familiar weight of my keys and phone was missing from my pockets.Where does she want to take me anyways? My breathing quickened as another sense of realization over my situation was setting in. She probably didn’t want to let go of me because she didn’t want to risk me running. A twinge of panic. My body tensed and adrenaline flooded. I have to get my life back before it's too late. Maybe the Bond hasn’t set in fully. I tried to shift my weight to get my legs under me in order to make a break for it. “Shh, shh. No.” She gripped my limbs tighter. “You’re okay. Look at me...Look at me, pet.” Despite the fear, something deep inside me compelled me to obey her. “You’re safe here with me.” My breathing slowly steadied as she pet my hair and brought me further into her arms. “Good boy.” Those last two words. They hit me like a ton of bricks. My focus blurred like a shot of heavy pain medication just entered my bloodstream. It felt wonderful. I only heard Annie’s half of a conversation that somehow felt far away as someone else approached us. “Yeah, that would be awesome… There’s one a few miles from here…Yes…Thank you so much, Kaitlin, seriously. Yeah, I—I just don’t want to let him go; he’s still shaking…Okay…Yeah, thank you! We’ll be out there in a minute.” She turned back to me. “Okay, honey, do you think you can walk with me?” “Where are we going?” I asked anxiously. “There’s a pet store close by where we can figure all this out.” Another wave of adrenaline. “No, I don’t wa—” “—Yes,” she interjected firmly and decisively, like it wasn’t up for debate. “Be a good boy for me, okay?” I wanted to. I wanted to more than anything. Against all rationality I wanted to earn her praise, even if it mean going against my own interests. She helped me to my feet, keeping me close to her with a firm grip of my hand in hers. She pulled my head into her shoulder as we snaked through the winding hallway of the business complex, with a few pairs of curious eyes on us. I was now acutely aware of my soaked jeans. Annie led me towards the entryway and out to a car waiting outside, where she carted us both into the backseat. She was clearly aware of my panted breathes because she quickly pulled me back into her chest. The ride was a blur. Annie kept cooing soft reassurances to calm me, only breaking to tell Kaitlin where to go. I felt uncomfortably warm and was already starting to sweat. Soon we were at a human pet superstore, the kind I would previously pay no mind to as I drove past. There was a side entryway to an intake area for newly bonded pets. As we got out and approached the entrance I reflexively jerked away from Annie, who kept a firm grip on my hand. “No, Oliver. Stay with me,” she ordered firmly, but with affection in her voice. Every instinct in me was telling me to run, to salvage my freedom. Every instinct but one; stay near Annie. That one was stronger than all rest. In through the doors we were quickly greeted by a uniformed employee behind a desk. “Hi there!” she chirped. She approached slowly and spoke softly, no doubt for my benefit. “I’m Jenny. Looks like we have a new Keeper and pet?” I’m sure it was painfully obvious who was who in that equation. I couldn’t bring myself to make eye contact and just held Annie’s hand tighter. “Yes, I’m Annie, and this is Oliver.” “Hi, Oliver,” she said, her voice dripping in condescension, like she was talking to a child. I didn’t look up. “Let’s get you guys into a transition room and I can walk you through what happens now. Follow me.” I looked over my shoulder at the automatic sliding doors. One last chance at freedom. I almost got my muscles to obey my desire to run before Annie firmly tugged my arm and I felt helpless to break away from her. Jenny led us into a room and quickly shut the door behind, locking it. It was like a normal medical room, except there were two exam tables, one of which that had a cage mounted atop it. Not to mention the human pet paraphernalia on the shelves. Seeing the cage, I instinctively began to whimper despite myself. Annie turned me to her and brought her hand to face. “It’s okay. You’re okay, pet.” If she said it was true then it must be, because she was my Keeper. “Alright,” Jenny began, “I know there are a lot of emotions and confusion happening right now, but I’m going to walk you through each step. First things first, we should get him cleaned up. His body is shifting rapidly, and his rising body temperature and continence are the quickest to change. This clothing just isn’t suitable for him. Let’s undress him.” “Right,” Annie replied. She reached the top button of my shirt and brought my hands up to block her. I whined, “No! Please, I—” “—Oliver,” She grabbed my hands, “If you can remain calm, I promise I won’t put you in the cage while we get you ready, but I need you to behave and listen, okay?” She said she needed me to. That was all I had to hear and my overwhelming desire to please her did the rest. “Okay?” she asked again, more sternly. I nodded meekly. “Good boy.” Another rush of endorphins. “Nice job, Annie,” Jenny said, impressed. “I suggest we get him on the table before undressing.” “Good idea,” Annie affirmed. “Okay, pet, I need you climb up and lay back for me, okay?” I didn’t take my eyes off her as she and Jenny helped me up onto the exam table and laid me back. “Good, keep reassuring him. Keep him looking at you.” “Look at me, sweetie. Keep your eyes on me. Good.” It didn’t matter that I could hear Jenny coaching her on the tactics, I still didn’t stand a chance against them. My newly developing pet brain overrode my critical thinking and I was mush. Annie held my gaze as I felt my arms being brought up over my head and my wrists were secured into soft leather cuffs. Next my shoes and socks were removed and my ankles went into similar restraints. Seeing Jenny hand Annie some medical sheers, I pulled on the restraints and whimpered. “Keep talking him through what you’re doing. It’s important that he trusts you. It might feel like you’ve known each other forever, but your is Bond is brand new. Undefined. He needs to know your intention.” “I’m going to get your clothes off now so that you can be so much more comfortable,” she told me. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m never going to hurt you.” As she began cutting through the sleeves of my shirt I wanted to scream but her command for me to stay calm enveloped the front of my mind. My shirt was pulled away from beneath my body. Jenny joined her in cutting through my wet jeans, pulling them away next. The cool air was nice on my skin, but I felt so much more exposed. She brought her hand up to stroke my cheek again. “Good job, sweetie. You’re doing so well for me.” My eyes closed as I melted into her words and worked my face into her hand, trying to inhale her wonderful scent to quell my anxiety. “You’re a natural, Annie,” Jenny mused. “Do you have pet experience?” “I lived with a pet for a few years. My roommate’s. I was there when she first brought her home. I remember those first days pretty well.” Well at least my Keeper had a resume. “Great! So I’m sure you know what happens next.” No. Even I knew what Jenny was getting at. “No, please!” I cried, “Please, Annie, don’t make me wear a diaper!” I tried to sit up and plead with her but the cuffs held me down. Annie was quickly at my side calming me down. “This is why we use restraints.” Jenny spoke with a practiced authority. “He’s quickly becoming prone to acting on instinct and heightened emotions. He wants to behave, I’m sure, but he’s scared and his rational decision-making skills are already diminishing.” Pets wore diapers. I knew this. Everyone knew this. As much as you knew to stop at red lights. But to fully absorb that it was about to happen to you was mortifying. “At this point, I think it’s best we use this to help keep him calm,” Jenny said as she handed Annie something. It was a rubbery bulb mounted to a leather face attachment with a thinner strap. A muzzle, with a gag attached. “No, I’ll be quiet, I swear!” I tried to plead pathetically as Annie brought the gag towards my head. “Open for me, pet. Let’s get this on. That’s it. Good boy. My good boy.” I was putty in her hands as she inserted the gag and strapped the muzzle around my head. The bulky structure cupped my jaw and wrapped around my lower face. I tested the gag and was barely audible. The silicon teat in my mouth felt weird. My soaked underwear was cut off, leaving me naked and covered in my own piss in front of Annie, this stranger who I felt more affection for than I even knew possible. It was beyond humiliating as she used baby wipes to thoroughly clean my crotch. I expected disgust or pity from her as she cleaned my urine soaked skin, but instead her look betrayed something else. Is that…lust? I asked myself. She bit her lip as she handled my penis and balls to clean them. The attention from her quickly translated to a growing erection. Her gaze was transfixed to my crotch. I tried to move my hips into her as she brought down another wipe. I didn’t care who else was there, I wanted her touch. I needed more of her touch. “As you can see, and I’m sure feel,” Jenny started, and Annie's attention snapped back, “the sexual connection brought on by the Bond is strong. And he’s all instinct right now. But I'm sure I don't have to tell you pet parenthood is illegal, so pets in intersex Bonds are required by law to be neutered. Frankly, in the long run you’re just not always going to have the restraint to practice safe sex. You’re just as drawn to him as he is to you. So sterilizing him is the best option.” I whimpered hearing this. Jenny giggled at my erection dissipating. “That kind of talk usually works to get male pets under control down there. How else would we get them in their first diapers?” I groaned into the gag as loudly as I could and pulled at the restraints to convey my protest. It was ignored as Jenny handed Annie a bulky, pastel blue disposable diaper. Pet diapers were much thicker than medical incontinence diapers for human adults. “Also, it’s fine for a diaper or two, but you’re going to want to remove the hair in his diaper area for hygiene purposes. He’ll shed some of his body hair naturally as his body continues to shift, but not all of it. We have some cream I’ll send you home with.” “Thank you.” Again, I tried to make my disapproval known but was quickly learning it was getting me nowhere. Annie fluffed out the diaper before bringing it down to me. “I can see you’ve done this before,” Jenny said to her, “Repetition is always good, especially when training. Using touch on the inner thigh and phrases like ‘butt up’ is good for getting him used to diaper changes.” I hated being talked about like I wasn’t in the room, like I was a baby. Yet I was hopelessly unable to resist when Annie tapped my inner thigh and ordered, “Butt up, Oliver.” “Down.” She pressed on my hips and my bottom landed on the considerable padding. “Baby powder is a must. You won’t always be there to change him immediately and nobody wants to deal with a rash.” “Good job,” Annie cooed to me, “Good boy being still for me.” Her praise lit up my brain. She sprinkled baby powder over my crotch. The diaper was pulled up over me and Jenny walked Annie through pulling on the tapes snugly. I instantly felt an odd sense of claustrophobia around my groin as it was sealed off. It was warm and bulky and for some reason I actually I preferred the sensation of being naked. Not to mention the sheer humiliation of being diapered like a toddler. Jenny checked the fit of the diaper and settled the leak guards into place. “Since we don’t know what level of incontinence new pet will have, store policy requires him to also be put in a diaper cover of some sort.” Jenny held up a cloth garment with plastic lining inside and snaps, sort of like another diaper. “Obviously, it’s ultimately up to you to decide what level of protection he needs, be it plastic pants, cloth diaper cover, etc.” Annie quickly repeated, “Butt up,” and laid out the diaper cover before snapping it on, making my crotch even bulkier. “Next, let’s get his other restraints on, starting with pet mitts.” I whined all over again and tugged at my bonds as Jenny took out the black leather pet paws. “Right now, he’s most likely stronger than you, no offense. That will probably change soon as his bones lose density and muscles lose mass, but for these first few weeks or so, you need to make sure he’s well restrained. Your voice’s authority as his Keeper is one of your best tools in this regard. For Female/male Bonds, training and using hypnotic triggers is more crucial than ever because you might not always be able to restrain him with just your physical strength.” Annie looked down on me squirming with the same sensuous look. “Keep him calm, Annie,” Jenny gently guided, “Take his arm, let him know what you’re doing.” “Shh, pet. Stay still for me. You’re going to be a good boy while I put your mitts on.” The warm smile conveying her command melted me as she unfastened the cuff and took my wrist. “These are to keep you safe. When you’re wearing them you'll know I am taking care of you.” “Very good!” Jenny complemented her as she inserted my hand into the mitt. My hand was slid into a comfortable position around a soft pad, but held tightly so I could barely bend my fingers. My hand would be completely useless. The mitt’s shape vaguely resembled a paw, with traction pads on the palm. There was a D-ring on the wrist that could be clipped. Once my hand was inside and tightened at the wrist, the mitt zipped halfway up my forearm and was fastened. My wrist was re-cuffed to the table. Annie talked me through the same thing on my other hand. My best chance at freeing myself and escaping my pethood was just taken away. “You should keep these on him at all times, other than baths, for the first few weeks, if not months. Some people use them permanently with their pets. Until he’s trained not to take off his diapers or open doors and latches he shouldn’t, his instincts will get the better of him. Now let’s do his legs.” They slipped a similar pet paw on my foot, and then a leg harness that came up to a soft pad fitted around my knee and a strap around my thigh. “Everything we’re using here comes free in the standard-issued pet kit for new Keepers, but they’re pretty cheap. You’ll probably want to upgrade to something else based on both your needs. You’ll have chance here a little later before taking him home if you like.” “Got it. Yeah, I’d like to get him something more comfortable,” said Annie. “There are different ways to keep a pet down on all fours. The most common is clipping a short strap from the thigh to the calf to keep the knees a little bent,” Jenny explained. “And there are different schools of thought on letting pets walk upright or be kept down. I do recommend new pets be kept down for a while, but, of course, that’s up to you as his Keeper.” I knew that many pets were kept on all fours all the time. No one even bats an eye seeing a half naked pet being walked on a leash, down on all fours in a diaper and restraints. It was totally mundane. Is Annie really not going to let me walk? Another wave of human clarity washed over me. Nothing was going to be my choice anymore. I was going lose everything. My entire life. For some unknown future with this near-stranger. Despair overwhelmed me and tears formed in my eyes. I wasn’t even struggling, I just laid there forlorn. Annie saw this and had a look of deep sympathy and concern. “That’s all for restraints, right?" She asked, with some urgency, without taking her eyes off me. “Yep! We can move on to registration now.” “So we can let him up for that,” Annie said, not really asking. “Well, we prefer to—” “—I want to let him up,” Annie interjected assertively and was already going to my ankle cuffs and undoing them. “Just for now.” “Okay, usually we do some bonding time after registering but I can see you need some time now. We’ll take a break.” Annie uncuffed my wrists and once free I immediately scrambled off the table into her arms, almost knocking her over. She brought me to the floor in her lap. My face was back in her chest and I began to full-on weep. Being enveloped in her touch and smell went a long way to comfort me, but I still felt the crushing weight of my lost life, and my lost future. And I sobbed. “Oh, my pet. It’s okay. Shh. I’ve got you,” she cooed, “I’m so glad I found you. You’re mine now. I promise I’m going to take care of you. My sweet boy. You’re never going to be alone. Shh. I’ve got you now.” I felt a warmness radiate through my body; a great comfort combating the anxiety and despair. Then I felt a physical warmness pooling around my crotch and I knew I was wetting the diaper; my diaper. Everything became a blur.

WGlory B Gloria Beatrice Stallings wasn't your normal 35 year old. She was 35 yes but looked younger. She also acted younger. Oh she had a job she worked in the Secretarial Pool of a major corporation in Phoenix Arizona. Most of the guys there thought she was cute and we're always hitting on her. "They were trying, her grandma told her trying to get into her pants." Gloria Beatrice was called Glory Be by her family. For the life of her she didn't know why guys were trying to get into her pants, they wouldn't like what they found there. She lived with her grandmother, who it seems had room for every discarded grandchild that her grandmother's children just didn't seem to want anymore. Glory Be was one of those her parents tired of the fact that she never grasped the concept of toilet training. Glory Be wore diapers so she wouldn't soak her pants. She learned to poop in a toilet but not urinate. Her parents tired of it and shipped Glory Be off to grandma when she was 8. There were other cousins and family members at Grandma's house right now there was her and Gregory her cousin living with grandma. At one time there were 4 others. Greg was a troubled teen he had assaulted a brother and a sister in the home. He was going to be homeless if not for grandma. Right now it was just those two. Greg was arrested he had seen the get rich quick life of dealing drugs. He was making $800 dollars a day easy on Friday and Saturday that could rise to $1200 a day at 15 he loved what he was doing. He had a place he dealt out of, he knew grannie would kill him if she knew what he was doing. He would leave under the guise of going to school every morning but the truth was he hadn't been to school in several weeks. Grandmother never asked where the money came for the clothes he wore and the help with the food and expenses, he told her he had gotten a job as a bag boy at a supermarket. She believed him. One day as he was selling his wares he noticed a whole bunch of people he didn't know in his neighborhood. If he had been smart he would of up and ran like his competitors he was glad that they weren't out selling like him, it was a Tuesday he had already made a Saturday wages and it wasn't even noon yet. He sold to a guy that had asked him about what he had and the cost he made the deal and,.... Bam the next thing he knew he was tackled and cuffed up, the guy was a cop, how could he be so stupid? Grandma got the call. She said "What the hell, and that little son of a....." she censured herself before she cussed more. She called Glory Be who had to leave work early to drive grandma as she doesn't have the best eyesight anymore. Besides she owes grandma a lot. Her cousin had his arraignment, he was charged with Possession less than two pounds, distribution of a controlled substance. His saving grace was that he was being cooperative. He was telling who his supplier was and he had been busted as well. Since he was so cooperative they were charging him as a juvenile as he was still one. They could of easily charged him as an adult. Grandma didn't have a lot of money, they got Greg a public defender. Glory had to change her diaper it had been lunchtime when she had last changed. That was 5 hours ago. No wonder she was soaked. They got home about 9pm it had been a long day. The house seemed empty to Gloria without Greg. He was missed. She was mad and sad. Mad she thought that Greg knew better than to deal drugs. If not she was sure they had taught him about the dangers of them. That was using not selling. Sad he was her cousin after all. He was in a place for her was scary in her mind. She didn't even want to think if he gets sent to a prison for kids. It may not be as scary as adult prison but it isn't a picnic either. Glory Be got her nighttime diapers on they were cloth with plastic panties. She thought these are my prison. I'm locked in these day in and day out! That night Glory had a nightmare that she was sent to prison, everybody knew she was diapered out of need. The worse part was she lived in constant fear that they were going to take her diapers from her. That she would have to wear wet panties all the time. Being embarrassed like that was scarier than the prison itself to her.

My work week just dragged on and on and on, like it would never end. But, finally, Friday was here and I was on my way home and ready for a weeks vacation. I was both extremely excited and nervous at the same time. This would be the first time ever trying something like this. An ABDL camp that offers just about everything someone could want. I stopped and gassed up my truck, grabbed a few bags of ice and headed home. I got home and backed up to my camper, put the truck in park and ran into the house and put on a Crinklz Astronaut diaper. I put some shorts on and headed back outside to get everything ready. I grabbed my RTIC cooler out of the shed and put it into the back of my pickup and then loaded the ice into it. Back into the house and I cracked open a beer and chugged it down. At the same time, I wet my diaper. It felt soo good. I went down the basement and grabbed a couple cases of beer out of the spare fridge and carried them outside and put them into the cooler. Back down to the basement and grabbed two more cases of beer and hauled them out to the cooler. One more trip for the last case of beer. Also grabbed a couple jars of shine and got everything loaded in the cooler. Then, back down the basement, I grabbed two packs of Rearz Daydreamer disposable diapers, two packs of ABU Tiny Tails disposable diapers and a package of Crinklz Astronaut diapers. I put them in a big cardboard box and hauled them out to the truck. Plenty of diapers, way more than I should need for a week at camp. The camp offers some skeet shooting and has a rifle range, so I grabbed some guns and plenty of ammo. Also grabbed my skeet vest. Then, I started to pack my suitcase. I went to put some underwear in there then thought, wait a minute, I'm not going to need these this week. I packed a few plastic pants, some socks, a few shirts and a pair of jeans. I also packed my big paddle, my hairbrush paddle and my giant wooden spoon. I started to get a little bit nervous about what my butt cheeks would be enduring this coming week. I cracked open another beer and took a big swig. I got my shave bag and my medicine and loaded that into my suitcase. I almost forgot about booster pads. I tossed a few into my suitcase and loaded it into the backseat of the truck. I paused a second and peed my diaper again. I loaded the ammo and gun cases into the back seat of my truck and locked it up. I took another swig of beer and then went back to the shed and got my fishing rods, tackle box and chairs and loaded them in the back of the truck and closed it up. I finished up my second beer and cracked open a third and took a big swig. Then I put the receiver hitch in my truck. I jumped in the truck and backed up the rest of the way to the camper and got it all hitched up. As I was hooking up the safety chains, I peed again and pooped in my diaper. It felt soo good. I really love the feeling of a messy diaper. I fired the truck back up checked the trailer lights. They were all good. I shut the truck off and locked it back up. All ready to go in the morning. I headed back into the house, grabbed another beer and sat down at the kitchen table and felt the load in my diaper squish all over my butt and up between my legs. I checked my phone for any new emails and then headed outside again. I got the mower out of the shed and mowed the lawn. My diaper felt soooo good walking back and forth with a big load in it and swelling up more and more while adding more pee to it. About half way through the yard, I stopped and grabbed another beer and then finished up the mowing. I put the mower away and headed back to the house. I lit the grill on my way in. My diaper was swelling up pretty big and I was wondering if any of the neighbors noticed my diaper bulge under my shorts. I washed my hands and then threw a few burgers on the grill for dinner. After I ate, and wet myself a few more times, I got an ABU Tiny Tails disposable diaper ready for bed with a thick Rearz booster pad in it. I took my shorts off and jumped into the shower and took my dirty diaper off and got cleaned all up and showered. I got out and dried off and put on my boosed Tiny Tails disposable diaper. I took a shot of Crown Royal, set my alarm for 3 am, wet my diaper and then went to bed early, ready for my big trip to my first time at a diaper camp.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first attempt at a story and I wanted to clarify one thing. This is at its core a transfem MTF transformation story. As a trans woman I have some experience with the feelings, emotions, and hurdles of this, but I absolutely do not have a cis woman's perspective on anything. There will be sex and body exploration moments, and as someone without a vagina I had to research what this is like. Hopefully it doesn't come across like some dumbass virgin wrote it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy ------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 1: In Which She Makes a Wish Ryan stared in awe at the being hovering before him, a beautiful woman with long flowing chestnut colored hair held in a ponytail by a turquoise band, a matching bedlah top covering her chest, and gold bands around her wrists. Piercing blue eyes regarded the boy, a hint of a smile touching them. However the most notable thing in Ryan's estimation was that just below the navel her body ended and below that she was made of a lavender smoke that endlessly emanated from an ornate antique bottle, twisting and flowing in eddies and swirls that seemed to hypnotize him as he beheld the being before him. “Well met, Master,” intoned the strange ethereal woman. “I am known as Sisu the Giving, genie of the bottle. I give you my most humble thanks for freeing me. In return I shall grant you all your heart’s desires. May I ask the name of my Master?” Ryan stared slack-jawed. He had found the bottle in an antique shop tucked away in an alley that he’d never meant to go down in the first place. He’d bought it as a gift for his girlfriend’s birthday. Andrea loved antiques and Ryan had thought she’d love the bottle especially, but when he pulled out the stopper this was the very last thing he’d expected to happen. Finally after a moment of stunned silence he spoke to the genie before him. “I’m, uh, Ryan,” he said lamely. “You…you're really a genie? I mean, uh, obviously you must be, but…I didn't know genies were real.” “Indeed I am,” Sisu the Giving said. “Alas, my kind are rarer in this age. I can feel only three others of my kind left in this world. Many of us have passed to realms beyond, or shall never be found again and have wasted away. ‘Tis a great tragedy, but unfortunately not one that I may remedy, for my bond is to you, my Master. As he who has freed me I am bound to your eternal servitude. As they say, your wish is my command!” Sisu smiled brightly and twirled in midair as bright glittering sparks flew about her from her fingertips, painting her as the very picture of ethereal beauty. Ryan was awed by her, still hardly believing what was happening. “Wish? You mean you can really grant any wish I want?” he asked. “Of course, my Master! I shall grant anything you desire. Fame, fortune, love, anything you ask of me shall be yours!” Ryan paused, suddenly wary. “Hold on,” he said cautiously. “In stories genies aren't always so kind in granting wishes, there's always some kind of twist.” Sisu’s eyes twinkled as she regarded her new master. “Indeed,” she agreed. “Many of my kind have done these things. I, however, shall not warp your wish into some unfavorable or nefarious outcome. Your wish shall be granted perfectly and according to your true desire.” Ryan waited for a moment for Sisu to speak. “But…?” he prompted. Sisu smiled a wan and dry smile. “Of course,” she confessed, “a price must be paid. For everything you receive something from you shall be taken. This thing I will not tell you and you shall not know until it is gone, but I give you my solemn vow that neither you nor those you love shall come to harm, nor shall your wish be tainted.” Ryan considered this. If what Sisu was saying was true it wasn't as bad as the stories had said it would be. However, this could potentially be just as bad, especially if he didn't know what he'd have to give up. Still, the trade-off might be worth it in the end after his three wishes were through. Actually…wait a minute. “Wait,” he exclaimed as the thought occurred, “you haven't told me how many wishes I get!” “That is because there is no limit,” Sisu proclaimed. “I do not limit you to one, three, or even five as some of my brothers and sisters may have. You may decide yourself when the price becomes too high for you to ask for more.” Ryan paled slightly. These trades must be pretty serious if Sisu thought he would give up on his own accord. What would be the breaking point? What would be taken from him that would cause him to quit? And just because something wasn’t harmful doesn’t mean it couldn’t be bad. “That's…different,” he muttered uneasily. “Is there anything else I should know? Any more rules like no killing or no love?” “Nothing of that sort. Love is easy to manipulate, even if it can get a bit unpleasant. If you truly wish someone to die then it shall be done, but the price of ending a life shall be severe.” Sisu’s eyes turned steely and sharp. Ryan could see the weight of her words reflected in her expression as she spoke. “I would also caution against raising the dead,” the genie continued. “It can be done, but things tend to get…messy. Besides these, I give you one final warning.” The swirling smoke comprising Sisu's lower half suddenly shifted inward and formed into slender legs with a gold and turquoise pair of pants to match her bedlah top. Sisu touched down on the floor and took one quick stride to be face to face with Ryan for the first time. She stood at eye level just a few inches away and Ryan instinctively took a half step back. “What is done cannot be undone,” she warned, the severity shining in her eyes once more. “Neither wish nor sacrifice may be reversed. What you get and what you lose shall remain for all your life. Choose wisely.” With her warning completed Sisu floated back up into the air, taking a pose as if she were lounging on a chair, her head propped on her arm and her legs crossed, all trace of seriousness gone. Ryan swallowed nervously. “So, my Master,” she smiled. “What is your wish?” Ryan regarded the genie nervously. A pit had begun to form in his stomach as he weighed the choice before him. He could have anything he wanted. But was it worth the risk? What could he want so bad that it would be… He paused, and the pit grew deeper. Ever since the lavender smoke began pouring from that bottle a thought had played at the back of his mind, a thought that had grown stronger even as Ryan tried to shove it down, shove it back into the dark place of his mind where he kept it locked. Some days it stayed put, content to stay away, but it was always there, waiting, and on the nights when it broke free it consumed him and left him aching, sleepless, and hopelessly despairing. But now there was no avoiding it, and 27 years of repressing this feeling had finally taken its toll. It was free now, and the thought, that terrible ache, could be made real, and almost without even thinking Ryan spoke. “I…can you…” He hesitated. “Hm?” questioned Sisu, a curious look on her face. “What is it that troubles you, Master?” Ryan could hardly breathe, he felt like he was being choked. He forced himself to take a deep breath and count in his head until he was calmer. 1 and 1 is 2. 2 and 2 is 4. 4 and 4 is 8. “I wish…” he started. 8 and 8 is 16. 16 and 16 is 32. Sisu smiled, and unbeknownst to Ryan she used a tiny portion of her magic to loosen his tongue. She had a sneaking suspicion what his wish would be. It was not the first time she had seen this happen. “Speak, Master,” she intoned. Ryan counted 32 and 32 is 64, took a deep breath, let the pit fill his entire being, and spoke. “I wish I was a girl,” she commanded. Sisu did a midair somersault and landed in front of Ryan, her eyes glittering and her grin wide. Just as she’d suspected. "Your wish is my command, Mistress.” Smoke poured from the bottle, surrounding Sisu until she was no longer visible. At once the column of lavender haze drifted towards Ryan, enveloping her in a soft caress from head to toe. She shivered as she felt herself begin to change. Her short hair grew, lengthening to halfway down her back, light and smooth. Her shoulders and waist began to narrow at the same time as her hips began to widen. She suddenly felt very tight in her jeans and worried about them ripping as she felt her butt also begin to expand. She couldn't be too sure through the smoke but she could swear she felt herself shrinking. It was all too much. She could hardly breathe. It felt as though there was a heavy weight on her chest. She put her hand up and gasped, feeling the mounds beneath her shirt as her new breasts began to swell. She was suddenly very scared of how she hadn't specified anything about this, but there was nothing to be done now. Just as she was beginning to worry that they were going to get too big the swelling slowed and stopped. She breathed a sigh of relief, but tensed again as she heard Sisu’s voice in her ear. “Apologies, Mistress, this next part is going to be a bit invasive, but I need to be precise here. I promise I shall be gentle and make it nice for you.” The smoke receded from her head and feet, gathering at her crotch and moving into her pants. She squealed in fright as she felt her manhood begin to shrink, then let out a soft moan as she felt pleasure radiate from it. She shook and her knees buckled as she suddenly felt the greatest orgasm of her life rock her. Pure ecstasy radiated out from her crotch as she sat on hands and knees, unable to move as the genie continued her work. It came in waves in ways she had never felt before, reverberating through her whole body, shaking her to her core. As the bliss rolled over her she felt the genie moving deeper and deeper inside her new genitals. She could feel things inside her moving, being rearranged, transformed from her previous male organs to her new female ones. Soon the waves of pleasure subsided and she was left panting on the floor. Eventually she was dimly aware of the smoke coalescing in front of her as Sisu appeared again, looking proud and grinning from ear to ear. “I must say,” bragged the genie, “that this may be my greatest work in centuries.” Ryan looked up at Sisu, eyes wide, still catching her breath. “That…that was…” she panted in an unfamiliar high-pitched voice. “I’m really quite good,” the genie said, evidently very pleased. “Still, we're not quite done. There's one last finishing touch.” Ryan cocked her head to the side. What could possibly be left? Everything about her was fundamentally different now, even the world looked bigger. “What-” she started before Sisu knelt down, took her head by the chin, and kissed her firmly on the lips. Ryan's eyes went wide as suddenly thoughts, memories, and knowledge flashed in her mind. How to put on makeup, how to wear a bra, how to manage a period, everything one could ever need to know about being a woman was beamed directly into her head. At the same time Ryan felt something else leave her mind, some small piece of former knowledge taken. Was this the trade? Sisu broke the kiss after just two seconds, though to Ryan it had felt like an eternity. She wobbled slightly on hands and knees, then fully collapsed on her side, whimpering, the room spinning above her. Sisu drifted down to rest beside the poor girl and placed Ryan's head in her lap. The genie began to stroke Ryan’s hair and spoke softly to the new girl before her. “It is alright, Mistress. You have been through a lot. Just breathe and it will pass. Sixty…sixty-ffffff… Ryan's head was still swimming with the process and couldn't really focus properly on her numbers. But as her head began to clear she tried to focus on what was taken from her mind, something important, something she felt like she had all her life that was now missing, but no matter how hard she tried she couldn't remember. “What was it?” she asked the genie unsteadily in her new higher, softer voice. “What did you take?” Sisu smiled down at Ryan. “Nothing too important. You'll find out soon enough.” Ryan blinked up at the genie. She was beautiful, and from here she looked almost motherly. As the last of the head fog cleared, Ryan sat up as straight as she could, if a bit unsteady, next to the attentive genie. Did Sisu get bigger? Or did… Ryan propped herself on the coffee table and slowly pulled herself up. Sisu stood and offered a helping hand which Ryan took as she took stock of everything. No, she wasn't imagining it, Sisu was taller than her, but only because Ryan was shorter. She had been at eye level with the genie before but now Ryan had lost at least eight or nine inches. Even her clothes hung weird and her jeans bunched up considerably around her ankles and under her heels. She'd have to have Andrea measure her when- “Andrea!” she squealed at the thought of her girlfriend. “What's she going to think seeing me like this?! I didn't even think about how she'd react! Sisu, change me back! She’s supposed to come over tonight!” Sisu gave a tsk tsk noise and wagged her finger at the girl. “Apologies, Mistress, but as you recall one of my rules was that wishes cannot be undone. I believe there's a delightful phrase in this time, ‘no take-backsies.’” Ryan groaned. Of course, stupid stupid Ryan, never thinking ahead. What was she going to do? “If I may, Mistress,” Sisu said, “I'd advise you to worry less about your girlfriend and more about yourself. You seem to be having some…difficulties?” Ryan looked up at the genie, still helping her stand, wondering what she was talking about, when she suddenly felt something very warm between her legs. She looked down and jumped back in alarm as she saw a growing wet stain around her crotch that was beginning to run down her legs, completely soaking the front of her too-tight jeans. It took a second for her to fully realize what was happening, but when she did she was utterly mortified. “What the fuck what the fuck!” She shrieked. She tried desperately to put her hands between her legs in an attempt to stop it, but to no avail. Under no control of her own she was wetting her pants and could not stop.

The one thing Madelyn desires most in the world is to wear diapers again, and she is prepared to do anything to make that wish come true. As inexplicable as that desire is for a twelve-year-old girl, it is one she has obsessed over for the past three years. Ever since Madelyn tried on a pull-up that a distant cousin had used for bedwetting, the thought of what it would be like to forego her underwear for that padded, crinkling sensation between her legs has been a desire she has been unable to shake. Every other plan to get her hands on diapers or pull-ups has failed up to now. But this time it is going to be different. This time it is going to work. This time she isn’t going to back out at the last minute. The plan is simple. All Madelyn has to do is intentionally begin to wet the bed at night. Then, her parents will have no choice but to get her the diapers she so badly desires. What could possibly go wrong? Chapter 1: Daydreams in Class I will not chicken out this time. That was what I had told myself two days ago. That was also what I had told myself yesterday. Third time was the charm, right? It was easy to put a bold face to my latest harebrained scheme to acquire diapers from the safety of my daydreams. It was much harder when the time came to actually carry out the plan that had been brewing in the back of my mind for the past year – one I had finally decided to put into motion this week. Why would a 12-year-old girl want to wear diapers in the first place? I don’t know. All I know is that for the past three years, nothing I have done has been successful at getting this obsession out of my head. I certainly didn’t have any interest in being a baby. My younger brother, Jackson, is only six years old. I discovered where Mom kept all his old baby stuff long ago. I’ve tried his old pacifiers, bottles, and sippy cups. None of those items held any appeal for me. I can’t stand kids’ TV shows. I can’t color to save my life. And don’t get me started on dollhouses, barbies, and whatever other toys babies like to play with. In every aspect of my life other than this strange desire for diapers, I wanted to act my age. My latest plan all started a year ago with a magazine and a desire to procrastinate on my homework. There had to be some level of irony to the fact that this latest idea came about when I was seated on the porcelain throne. Mom had almost a dozen different magazines she subscribed to. Most of them found their way to the bathroom, which was also probably the only circumstance where I would have even considered reading them in the first place. I was already finished doing my business, but leaving the bathroom meant needing to continue a homework assignment I’d been slowly picking away at for the past hour. The only reason I even bothered to pick up a copy of the Reader’s Digest on that day about a year ago was for the few sections where it had funny jokes and stories. That, and I had left my smartphone in the bedroom. I really didn’t know how my parents managed when they were my age. I skimmed through the first section of jokes. Whoever had put together this edition of the magazine had totally mailed it in. There was a completely unoriginal one about redheads and souls that had me tempted to toss the magazine in the garbage. I mean, with how many magazines Mom had, would she even miss it? Redhead jokes get old really quick when you’ve had people telling you them your whole life. It has been forever since I’d been told one I hadn’t heard before. And even longer since I’ve been told one that was actually funny. Maybe I would have better luck with the second humor section toward the back of the magazine. I flipped through the pages casually when one of the advertisements caught my eye. I could scarcely believe what I was seeing. There it was. Right on the page. An exact replicate of the pull-up I had briefly stolen from a cousin two years ago. But there was more. That pull-up from two years ago had been the boys’ designs. This ad showed that there were ones for girls as well. And even though I’d had a pretty good growth spurt in the past two years, the product info indicated that I wasn’t even close to being too big to wear them. I didn’t tuck the magazine in the trash, but I did take it with me from the bathroom, burying it deep inside my box of miscellaneous things in my bedroom. I’ve looked at that page at least once a day for the past year. “Earth to Maddy. Earth to Maddy. We’re calling in.” My head jerked upright from the hard wooden desk in my math classroom to the sound of laughter. “Here!” I called back to our math teacher. “Well, thank you for joining us again, Maddy. Now,” he said, pointing to a cluster of numbers, letters, and symbols on the whiteboard, “that we’ve isolated ‘x’ on this side of the equation. Can you tell us what it is?” I had enough trouble paying attention in classes that I liked. For ones I hated? The temptation to daydream was hard to resist. And I hated math class. It was hard enough when we were dealing with regular numbers. I would be lucky to scrape by with a “B-” on my report card. But now, with the end of the school year in sight, my math teacher had ever-so-helpfully decided to give us a sneak peek of some of the things we got to look forward to learning next year in eighth grade. I sucked at long division. But it at least made sense conceptually. The numbers were real, even if doing the work to get the answer was tedious. But now there was this thing the teacher called Algebra, where we were supposed to be adding up letters as well as numbers, which was beyond my ability to comprehend. Every “x” and “y” on the whiteboard seemed designed to taunt me. May as well put a “D” or a “C” on the board, as that was about what I could expect on my report card next year if this was what was in store for me. I stared blankly at the whiteboard with the sinking feeling that even if I had been paying attention for the past five minutes, I wouldn’t be any closer to understanding what was going on. “Um,” I said, picking at my nails while I continued to stare ahead. I had to at least give some kind of guess. But my brain and my mouth sometimes aren’t exactly in sync with one another. “The spot.” “I’m sorry. What was that?” Mr. Thompson asked. “You know, the spot. Like, ‘x’ marks the spot.” The classroom was full of laughter again. This time with me rather than at me. I made eye contact with one of my friends, Angie, who turned to look back at me from the front row. We shared a smirk at the joke. Mr. Thompson sighed. “Everyone settled down, please.” He gave me a look that suggested he might be once again telling my parents about how I had apparently been disruptive in class. “Now, Maddy, if you had been paying attention as we worked through this problem, you would know that the answer was actually…” I didn’t even manage to pay attention long enough to get to the answer to what ‘x’ happened to be or what sorcery had been used to arrive at that conclusion. I fixed my eyes on a spot on the whiteboard, a method I had mastered to trick teachers into thinking I was actually paying attention to their nonsense when I’d rather be daydreaming. My thoughts slipped back toward my plans for this evening. The third time had to be the charm, right? It wasn’t really my fault the first two attempts at wetting the bed had failed. The first night, I had simply been too tired. We’d had an exhausting soccer game that evening that had gone on to overtime, and we’d been shorthanded, so I hadn’t spent almost any time on the bench. I had fully intended to stay up past midnight but had used the excuse of being tired to back out of it. Instead, I let myself drift off to sleep without wetting the bed. During the second night, I’d managed to stay up until 1 a.m., but I had found it impossible to make myself pee. I simply hadn’t had enough to drink. I had considered simply pouring water on my bed, but I was worried that might not be convincing enough should my parents make a closer examination of my bedding. I could have snuck off for a glass of water in the kitchen and stayed up another hour, but again, I chickened out and pushed the plan off to another night. But tonight was going to be different. I was going to be drinking as much water as I could tonight, and I would skip going to the toilet before going to bed. Plus, tonight was Friday, which meant it was pizza night, so as long as I picked out a caffeinated soda, I should be able to keep myself up late enough for this plan to work. I realized that I was likely going to have to keep this up for multiple nights. One random night of bedwetting — after having never wet the bed since I had been potty trained at the age of two — wouldn’t be enough to convince my parents to take action. But if I could have the courage to keep it up long enough, they would have no choice but to purchase the pull-ups shown on the magazine page for me. I would make sure to leave that old magazine out in a way that would get Mom to see the advertisement. It was a desperate move, but I couldn’t wait any longer for the pull-ups. I knew from other advertisements I’d seen that these pull-ups were sold in stores. Had there been a store close by that I could bike to, I might have considered going out and purchasing some for myself on a day when I had been left at home on my own. But that wasn’t an option for me. I still had over three years to go before I would be old enough to get my own driver’s license. I had already waited three years for this. I couldn’t possibly wait three more. “Maddy. Earth to Maddy. Hey!” There was the sound of hands clapping together a single time. More laughter. I blinked rapidly, adjusting my gaze over to Mr. Thompson, where he was standing at the front of the classroom with his palms still pressed together from making the noise he had used to so rudely interrupt my daydreams. “Maddy, please just take one of the homework sheets and pass the rest behind you.” I looked straight ahead, where Chloe was holding a stack of papers with her arm stretched out toward me. She rolled her eyes at me as I grabbed them from her. In a rare moment of self-control, I did not stick my tongue out at her. I took one of the homework sheets and passed the remaining one behind me to where one of my two best friends was sitting. The three of us had initially been seated next to each other. But Mr. Thompson decided a few weeks into the school year that doing so was too much of a distraction. Emma, who had been seated to my right, was switched to the seat behind me. Angie, who had been on my left, had worse luck. Not only was she moved to the front of the class, but she had to sit next to Ryan, who had the disgusting habit of picking his nose in public. But that was OK. We’d have the whole weekend together. Tonight was the beginning of the playoffs for our U13 soccer team. We’d had a moderately successful season, meaning we’d managed to somehow win more games than we lost over the past several months. It was disappointing that the spring soccer season was so close to coming to an end, but we had the opportunity to keep it going this weekend if we could manage to string a few victories together. The bell rang as the final class of the week came to an end. Mr. Thompson belted out more instructions about the homework as I slid the piece of paper, with all its archaic symbols and equations, into my backpack. I’d just ask Angie and Emma later to see if there was something I’d missed in his instructions. I joined my two friends in the hallway. We all lived in the same neighborhood, so we rushed off to catch the bus together. They chatted excitedly about the game tonight, but I walked alongside them in silence. My thoughts were somewhere entirely else. My mind settled on the image of the pull-up I had held in my hand three years ago. The few minutes where I had examined it thoroughly, my fingers tracing over its whole surface. How it had felt to wear it for a couple of minutes before I was forced to set it aside, not knowing the opportunity was one I wouldn’t get again for years. Should everything go as planned, I would be wearing a pull-up again in less than a week. But to accomplish that, I needed to wet the bed tonight – on purpose. <><><> Three years ago If there was a single moment that perhaps best defined the last three years of my life, it was that day three years ago when it all began. The day I first laid eyes on a simple object that would become an obsession I would never be able to shake off. I didn’t cry at the funeral. I knew, intellectually, that this was what people were supposed to do. But even the sight of my aged great-grandfather lying in the open casket hadn’t moved me to tears. It wasn’t as though I wasn’t sad, but it was a more abstract kind of sadness. That kind that has someone thinking heavy thoughts about what happens after death, not that kind that leaves someone bawling on their knees. I had no memories of the man lying in the casket. My parents said I had met my great-grandfather three times. But I had been too young to have any memories of those visits. My older sister, Grace, on the other hand, was devastated. It was her first funeral as well. She had memories of her great-grandfather. The man in the casket was not an abstract concept to her, but the ghost of someone who had played with her and held her in his arms. Jackson cried as well, but that was just because he was a baby. You could never exactly tell what it was that they were upset about most of the time. The three-year-old boy likely just needed a nap. But the funeral home wasn’t where that pivotal event in my life transpired; it was merely marked the event that gave cause for all my distant relations – grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins – to join together from where they were all scattered across the country. The reception after the funeral was where the fateful moment occurred. The adults ate, drank, and smoked while kids split into playing games with others of their age. There was a cohort of preschoolers huddled around a TV, watching stupid kids’ shows. On the other end of the spectrum was a collection of angsty teenagers Grace had abandoned me to hang out with. They weren’t particularly welcoming of youngsters, and my normally friendly sister had shooed me off after I attempted to tag along with her. Not that I cared that much. Other than my sister, teenagers made me a bit apprehensive. Besides, there were a half-dozen other kids my age to hang out with. My mom introduced me to two boys shortly after we arrived at the house for the reception. One of them, Alex, was eight. Though he made clear he would be nine in a few weeks, which would make him as old as me. His younger brother, Timothy, was seven. The boys were distant cousins from half-way across the country. There was some technical term Mom used for exactly what type of cousin they were to me — second cousins, twice removed. That didn’t mean anything to me. All that mattered was that they were my age and more than open to finding some way to play in order to pass the time while the adults did whatever adults did. We hit it off immediately. We did what kids that age normally do. We fell into the habit of playing simple games with each other as if we had been friends all of our lives. The two brothers were staying at the house where the reception was being hosted, so it was only fair that they gave me a tour of the massive building. We explored the expansive backyard, winding our way through the adults in the garden until we were shooed away. We played in the basement for a while, which had foosball and ping-pong tables before the teens decided that was where they wanted to be hanging out instead. But there was still plenty of house to explore. Alex and Timothy led me up a winding staircase to some rooms upstairs, where they had been sleeping while their family stayed with the relatives who were hosting the reception. That’s when I stumbled across a stunning revelation. One that would shape my life for the next three years. Haunt my dreams. Hound my thoughts. Practically drive me crazy as I was often left incapable of thinking of anything else. There was something out-of-place sitting in the corner of the room on top of a pile of discarded laundry. I tended to usually say the first thing that came to mind without regard to whether it was socially appropriate to do so. I wasn’t any better at that at the age of nine. I pointed at a blue undergarment in the corner that didn’t exactly look like a normal piece of underwear. It was not as though I didn’t have a good suspicion of what it was. But I wanted confirmation. “What is that?” Timothy walked casually over to the corner and picked it up. “Oh, that’s my pull-up.” I looked at the item in his hand. He was seven. That couldn’t possibly be his. I felt sure I was the subject of some kind of joke. “Don’t be silly,” I said. “You’re too old to wear pull-ups.” “Older kids sometimes need to wear pull-ups,” he said, still holding the item in his hand. His defiance left me no less confused. I rolled my eyes. “I doubt that even fits you.” I hadn’t intended in any way to dare them to put the pull-up on. But that must be how that statement had come across. Alex snatched the pull-up out of his brother’s hand and tugged it on over his dress pants. “See,” he said. “It fits. We wear them ’cause we still wet the bed.” They were bedwetters. And they weren’t the least bit ashamed of it. That was at least a topic that I understood. I had no intention of teasing or bullying them. While neither my brother nor I were bedwetters, my older sister had wet the bed up until a year or so ago. Why hadn’t I put together a connection between pull-ups and bedwetting? Come to think of it. I wasn’t even sure if Grace had worn pull-ups during her bedwetting phase. She had her own room, which I was very much forbidden from going into, so if she had, there wasn’t any way I would have known about it. When I had first learned of my older sister’s predicament, my parents had sat down with me and calmly explained what bedwetting was and how I was to never shame or tease her about it. And given how privately they had handled her condition, and the fact that it hadn’t ever impacted my life at all, I truthfully hadn’t ever given her bedwetting much of a thought. Alex mistook my pensiveness while considering my sister’s bedwetting to mean that I was still confused about the topic. He launched into a long explanation with words like enuresis, explaining how bedwetting was just a medical condition that he and his brother would grow out of. “Do you wet the bed?” Timothy asked me. “No,” I replied. I came close to continuing my reply and accidentally outing my sister, but I would never do something that mean to her. Alex still had the pull-up around his waist, completely unconcerned with how silly it looked. The pull-up had a picture of Spiderman, my favorite superhero, on the front. I pointed that out, which led to another conversation about which Marvel superheroes we liked best. Timothy was big on Iron Man. But Alex insisted that Batman was better than any of them. My eyes kept glancing down at Alex’s waist. I found myself unable to look away from the pull-up for long. The sight of the pull-up around Alex’s waist raised another thought. That pull-up would fit me just as well. My distant cousin and I were both about the same size, after all. I didn’t question the desire to wear the pull-up. Once the impulse had taken hold of me, there was little else I could think of as I distractedly continued the conversation with my cousins. Our parents called us down for dinner. Alex ripped the pull-up off and tossed it back in the corner of the room before we retreated down the stairs. I was unable to concentrate during dinner. Alex and Timothy were across the table from me, and it was all I could do to keep my mouth shut about what I had just witnessed. I was filled to the brim with questions, most of which I would have to keep inside unless I were presented with another chance to have a private discussion with those two bedwetting cousins. But there was one question more important than any of them. One perhaps best answered on my own rather than by asking them. What did it feel like to wear a pull-up? While the adults were content to sit and chat around at the table long after their plates were clean, that wasn’t the case for us kids, and soon we were back to running around; Timothy, Alex, and I were joined by another four cousins. Big houses and hide and seek go hand in hand together. We agreed that hiding upstairs in the house was against the rules for the game of hide and seek. That meant that the upstairs room where the pull-ups were waiting for me was technically off-limits. But I didn’t care one bit about the game. Anyway, making the upstairs rooms off-limits had been my idea. An absolutely brilliant stroke of genius for a then nine-year-old girl. In one move, I’d ensured that no one would be up there when I went looking for the pull-up and that I would be safe from anyone following after me. I took quick glances in both directions as I stood at the base of the stairway. Perfect. There were no other kids in sight. I leaped up the stairs, skipping two steps at a time with each upward lunge until I was safely around the corner and out of sight. I encountered my first problem when I made it to the bedroom where Timothy and Alex had been sleeping. I had somehow assumed that the pull-up Alex had ripped off could be fixed. I seemed to recall that the pull-ups my brother had worn a year ago had Velcro sides. But that wasn’t the case with these bedwetting pull-ups for some reason. But there had to be additional pull-ups elsewhere. There couldn’t be any way that the boy’s parents would risk them peeing all over the bed while they were spending the night as guests. I didn’t have any luck in the first suitcase that I looked through, nor the second, but the third one was where I struck gold. There were more than a dozen pull-ups tucked into the side of the suitcase. Surely, they wouldn’t notice if one of them happened to go missing. I grabbed a pull-up and bundled the pull-up into a ball, tucking it into the waistband of my skirt. I was sure that was not nearly as discreet as I thought it was at the time. But, to my good fortune, I was able to make it to a nearby bathroom without being caught. The adults were busy downstairs, and my cousins, who were playing hide and seek, were doing a better job than I was at abiding by the rules. I locked the bathroom door behind me. I double and triple-checked to make sure the door was actually locked. I removed the pull-up from under my skirt and held it in my hands. I didn’t stop then to think through how bizarre the whole situation was at the time. I think I must have stood there looking at it for several minutes. Feeling how it crinkled beneath my touch, testing out the sides to see how far they could stretch, rubbing my fingers down the padded interior. I was completely and utterly fascinated by it. The desire was no more explainable than a moth being drawn to a flame, a kitten to catnip, or a raven to a shiny object. I cautiously slid my arms through the leg holes, stretching the pull-up out in front of me. Not only was it more than stretchy enough for me, but it could probably fit a kid twice as wide as I was. Now came the moment of truth. I removed my skirt and underwear. The pull-up had a side that was helpfully labeled as the back, so I knew which way to put it on. As I brought the pull-up into place around my waist, it was like sliding the final piece of a puzzle into place. I turned around so that I could look at my reflection in the mirror. I lifted up the front of my skirt so that the whole pull-up was in view. It practically came up all the way to my belly button. There was something about the way it hugged my sides, the way the soft padding pressed against my skin as I sat down on the toilet lid and the way it crinkled quietly as I paced across the bathroom that left me completely enamored. There was just one thing left to do. And I didn’t have much time before everyone noticed that I was missing. I lifted up the lid of the toilet seat and sat down while still wearing the pull-up. One of my deepest regrets was that I had went to go potty right before the game of hide and seek began, meaning there wasn’t anything waiting to come out of my bladder at the moment. I tried. I really did. I wanted to know. I had to know. What would it feel like to pee into a pull-up? It couldn’t be bad. Alex and Timothy hadn’t seemed to be put off at all by waking up in a wet pull-up every morning. But nothing happened. The timing was off. My bladder wouldn’t cooperate. And time was up. I needed to be out of the bathroom in a couple of minutes. I considered it a radical idea. What if I put my underwear and skirt over the top of the pull-up? I could continue to wear it until I actually needed to pee. I nearly did it. I really, truly, honestly nearly did it. But then I chickened out. The same way I would, time and time again for years afterward. It was too risky. A small trickle of shame was diluting my euphoria. I knew that despite how ecstatic I was at my discovery, the reality of anyone else discovering this secret — and the relentless shame and teasing that would follow — would be devastating. I wasn’t like Alex or Timothy. I didn’t have the veneer of bedwetting to hide behind as an excuse for wearing a pull-up. I slid the pull-up off of my legs. I intended to put it back in the suitcase. Then it would be like nothing had ever happened. That’s when I encountered a second problem. Apparently, I had gone potty in the pull-up after all. Not a lot, just the teensiest of tinkles. But it was enough to leave a tiny yellow patch the size of a quarter smack dab in the middle of the pull-up. I breathed a sigh of relief that I had even noticed it in the first place. That would have made for an awkward situation for Alex and Timothy had I put the pull-up back in the suitcase. I peered into the trash can. I was in luck. I could make out two pull-ups at the bottom of the small trash can. One had been turned inside out, the color of its interior leaving no doubt as to the truthfulness of Alex’s description of his and his brother’s bedwetting. I bunched up the pull-up and tossed it in the trash can. I didn’t think it was likely that anyone would be paying too much attention to notice the addition of one more pull-up in it. My curiosity sated, I returned to the game of hide and seek, pretending that I had been expertly moving in between hiding places to avoid being spotted. I didn’t think anymore about the pull-up until later that evening when we were lying in bed at the hotel. Jackson was little enough that he could sleep on a padded mat and sleeping bag on the floor while Grace and I shared a bed – an experience that hadn’t gone well the past couple of nights, as it had been interrupted by midnight accusation of blanket theft. If it had just been Grace and me in the room, if Mom, Dad, and Jackson hadn’t been around to overhear it, I might have worked up the courage to ask my older sister about her bedwetting. I wasn’t even sure if she knew that I knew about it. But I had to know. Had she worn the same pull-ups as Alex and Timothy? Was there perhaps a style that came in colors and designs for girls? But we weren’t alone, and those questions went unasked. The drive home wasn’t any easier. I didn’t touch my tablet, which had been my constant companion on the trip here. Instead, I stared out the window. But I wasn’t paying any attention to the passing cities and landscapes. Instead, my mind was replaying the events of the previous day, in particular, the few precious minutes when I had my hands on the pull-up. I was filled with a deep sense of longing and regret. Why had I thrown the pull-up in the trash? Why hadn’t I put it back on beneath my skirt? I would have had it with me now. I could have been wearing it now. Of course, I did know better. I would have had no issue wearing the pull-up out of the house, but once we had gotten to the hotel, there wouldn’t have been any realistic way for me to have kept it concealed. But the acknowledgment of that reality did nothing to lessen my longing for the pull-up. I had nothing but time as I began to scheme up all the different ways I could get my hands on another one, or better yet, an actual diaper. What would I have done if I had known the wait was to be measured in years rather than days, weeks, or months? --- Links to all my stories can be found at https://abdlwriter.wordpress.com/

This is a new story entirely based on fantasies that I have written with 22 chapters. Translated from another language. Here are the first two chapters. African experience By Sandman Chapter 1 - Africa Rob stretched out his legs on the couch and enjoyed an extra cup of coffee. The apartment that he rented was really something very special. Not least the large roof terrace where he sat and enjoyed his new life. The tranquility, the pleasant tropical heat, the view of the leafy pool area. Everything felt good. That he hadn't done this before! Rob almost got angry with himself when he thought about it. Financially, it wasn't a big deal, and he could do his job just as well here, if not better. It was still a bit nerve-wracking to have moved to a completely different part of the globe, but it had been a much-needed change of scenery. Now he was in place. Far, far from home in a continent where he didn't know a single person. Rob had landed yesterday, Wednesday. The journey had been stressful with unnecessarily long waits at three different airports. Passport control at the arrival had not impressed and the same with the baggage handling, but in the end, he had at least sat in the taxi with all his luggage. But it had been a struggle. For a long time, Rob had thought that his luggage was delayed or even completely lost. A small "bonus" to an employee at baggage handling had solved the problem. The first thing Rob had done when he arrived at Palm Court was to throw his bags into the apartment and buy a cold beer at the pool bar. After just a sip or two, Rob felt that the travel fatigue was starting to subside. The area felt calm and nice, and he had enjoyed watching the two African women sitting on the table next to him, drinking a cup of coffee. The move to Africa had come at a good time. His best friend and training partner Dan had also moved. Quite far away as well, which meant that they wouldn't be able to see each other very often. When Rob had been given peace that Dan was going to move, he too had started to play with the idea of replacing the safe everyday environment with something new. Something exotic. Pretty soon plan A had become Africa. A gigantic continent that Rob had only read about. Now he was there, and his apartment would be the central point of his new life. The interior designer had done a good job. The apartment was fully equipped and even the fridge and pantry were stocked with the basic items that he had specified. He was already starting to feel at home. Palm Court was a large condominium. A gated community. It was an oasis in the middle of the city with walking distance to incomparable beaches, restaurants, bars, nightclubs, you name it. Rob was in paradise. The only thing he really lacked right now was love, a girlfriend. He didn't need any other company. In that respect, he was very different from his best friend Dan, who could barely stand himself for an entire evening. Rob, on the other hand, needed to be completely by himself quite often. That was when he sat and wrote his books, but he also liked to roam around all on his own. Aimlessly and anonymously. Especially when he was in a city. However, Rob was not a lone wolf, and after a period of writing, he often had a pent-up need for socializing. Lately, Rob had started to think a lot about the future and thoughts about starting a family, but so far, he was not ready for family life with a house and dog. Being single still had some unbeatable advantages, which Rob made sure to take advantage of. He appreciated being free as a bird and being able to enjoy casual sexual acquaintances, but he didn't want it that way in the long run. Rob's plan was to take it easy for the first few weeks. Acclimatize and get to know the surroundings. He had also decided to put work aside completely for a while and treat himself to a soft start. The goal was to find a balance in life where a central part of everyday life would be about physical exercise. The training served as lighter fluid for Rob. It was during the training sessions that the ideas rushed forward and gave him a boost in his writing. A well-functioning home was also important. The less he had to think about simple everyday problems, the more focus he could put on his book projects. He had come a long way with the apartment, but he needed to hire someone who could clean and do the laundry. Apparently, it was a popular second work because Rob had barely landed before he ran into the cute girl at the pool bar who immediately offered her services. They had agreed to meet today, Thursday and she seemed perfect for the job. Above all, because she worked in the area and was already safety audited and approved. Rob had just finished a quiet and nice breakfast when there was a knock on the door. The bartender girl stood there with a smile on her face. ” Hello Mister! Do you remember me?” ” Hello Esther! Of course I remember you. Nice to see you again.” The answer from Rob was not a standard comment that flew out of him just to appear polite. The black woman in front of him, who was both socially gifted and sexy, appealed to him in many ways. She seemed to be somewhere in her 30s and after just a few minutes she had wrapped Rob around her little finger. Rob should of course have asked Esther for references at similar jobs, but you only live once, Rob thought and let his eyes choose. Esther was hired on the spot. A while after Esther had left the apartment, Rob had gone out onto the terrace and looked out over the pool area. He could both see and hear that there were a lot of families with children on Palm Court. These were families who seemed to live a privileged life, quite different from the much poorer families outside the fence. Rob could see that many of the housewives had nannies who played with the children, while their husbands were probably out at some well-paid job. Chapter 2 - Medical examination When Rob eventually went out on his first walk outside the gates of Palm Court, he had unexpectedly received a minor culture shock. Rob had in his wildest fantasy not imagined that there would be so few Westerners living here, but now he understood better. Esther had told Rob that expats in the area very rarely came from outside Africa. The same thing with the tourists. In other words, Rob was an odd bird, but it was one thing to hear someone else say it. Now he experienced it with his own eyes, and it was clearly a bigger adjustment than he had expected. Locally, people would refer to him as "the white man". The pale face. No personal name was needed because he was the one and only. The locals didn't mean anything bad by calling him "the white man". It was just a well-intentioned and apt description of his appearance, but Rob still found it a bit difficult. He wished he had been anonymous and discreet, instead of lighting up the sky like the pole star with his pale complexion, but deep down he felt that he would adapt. He would just have to give it some time. Because even though he stood out, he was met by smiles and the city and life on the street felt both harmonious and pleasant. Certainly, he could see that there were large gaps between rich and poor and that it was best to avoid certain areas, especially at certain times of the day. But it was nothing unique to this city, but a typical metropolitan phenomenon. One of Rob's first reflections on strolling around was that the women looked different from what he was used to. It wasn't the color of the skin that he was thinking about, but the anatomy and their sexy tits and asses. The girls were simply a little curvier here. But just like at home, it was a blissful mix of women with different looks. The difference here seemed to be that they were very proud of their bodies, even though they had a BMI far above ideal. Everywhere he saw upright women who unabashedly and naturally emphasized their feminine attributes. Over the years, Rob had had some hot relationships, but his paths had never crossed with a black woman. It had only happened that way because he had grown up and lived in environments where everyone had been white. Now it was just the opposite and only the future could answer whether this was where he would find the love of his life. The dream of a romance made him feel elated and he walked straight towards the beach. The tropical heat was oppressive, and he tried to walk slowly to avoid getting soaked in sweat. Down by the beach, Rob found what he was looking for. A simple lunch restaurant overlooking the sea. Rob took a deep breath and looked out over the green-turquoise water. Life felt like a luxury holiday. Gone was the gray everyday life, the stress and the scheduled day. Rob enjoyed seeing and hearing how the waves rolled in towards the beach, he enjoyed seeing all the happy people, who, just like Rob, appreciated the relaxed life with sun and sea. Pretty soon, Rob received renewed confirmation that he stood out with his pale skin. Some passing women had taken a detour near Rob's table, where they had discreetly stopped and straightened their bikinis or bent over and seemingly brushed off a grain of sand on a toe. It was women who wanted to show off their beach-clad bodies. Women who wanted Rob to look at them and Rob liked what he saw. He met their eyes with a happy smile. Rob marveled at how quickly humans took a liking to a person of the opposite sex. A quick glance was all that was needed for the blood to flow in the crotch, which then triggered hopes and feelings of pleasure. Rob was reminded that he longed for physical closeness to a woman. Life in Africa had started well and the lunch gave Rob another push forward. He was happy to be able to live this life. Pleased and satisfied after the lunch on the beach, Rob felt ready to make a visit to the gym. He had quickly walked past and looked in from the outside and it looked promising. The well-equipped gym was just a small part of the Micasa Health Club at the Palm Court pool area and membership was included for adult tenants at Palm Court. Rob was keen to continue with the training program that he had been doing regularly for the past few years, but there was only one small detail he had to investigate before he could train. Rob had read that you had to show a medical certificate before you could train. There must be some formality that they don't apply, Rob thought as he opened the front door and stepped into Micasa. ” Hello Mister! Welcome to our Health Club! I’m Faye, the gym instructor. What can I do for you sir!” ” Hello! Thanks! I’m a bit interested in starting to train in the gym.” ” Perfect! Please allow me to demonstrate our facility.” "Yes, please do!" The gym seemed well equipped, and the area was large and fresh. After showing Rob around, Faye asked if he had any questions. "Eh, I read something about medical certificates. Can I just show my certificate from home?" "Oh, no, unfortunately it is not possible. We have a requirement that you must be examined here at the club by our own staff. Should I book an appointment for you?" "Uh, .. Yes, please, that would be nice." "Let me see. We have an appointment free today at 14:30.” "Okay, that’s fine. I'll take it." Damn shit, Rob thought. For some reason, he hated health checks. He was fit as a fiddle but still there was something about being examined that he didn't like. A little frustrated by the bureaucratic rules at the gym, Rob went back to his apartment. Just before the agreed time, Rob walked down to Micasa, dressed in his gym clothes. His hope was to be able to do a proper workout immediately after the examination. "Hi Faye! Now I'm here for the health check. Where should I go?" "Hello! Come with me, I will show you where Fatima is housed." They walked in the opposite direction to the gym and at the end of the corridor was the examination room. "Hello Darling,” said a very beautiful woman. Rob had seen her before both at the bar and in the pool area. "Hello" he replied happily and was a little surprised that he suddenly started to feel very shy. "Are you closing the door on the way-out Faye?" said Fatima. "Yes boss! He is all yours" Faye replied with a smile and left the room. "Okay. Then we will start by filling in some information in the journal. "Fatima took out a tablet and logged in to an app. Then Rob had to answer an insane number of questions between heaven and earth. Every single vaccination was documented, as was basically every patch and cold he had had since he was an infant. It was as if the questions would never end, but suddenly Fatima said. ” Baby, please be so kind and take of your shoes, socks and t-shirt for me.” Okay, now it was apparently time to examine the body for real, Rob thought. He did as she said and wearing only sports shorts and underwear, he was thoroughly examined. She listened to her heart and lungs. Checked his blood pressure. Pricked his finger and took a blood sample. Rob even got to ride an exercise bike with a heart rate monitor around his chest for 10 minutes. Everything seemed to be normal. It was now that Rob thought Fatima was done, that all that remained was to print and sign the certificate. That he would get the green light to train at the gym. But the examination was not over at all, and Rob did not see it coming. Fatima took him completely by surprise by resolutely pulling off both shorts and underwear in one quick movement. What happened next almost made him go underground. The latex glove, the Vaseline, none of that he had paid attention to. No..she can't.... Upff.. Her finger had quickly found Rob's little hole, and she hadn't hesitated for a second. Now he stood there with her finger deep in his ass and was so ashamed that his cheeks had turned bright red. ” Relax baby.” Rob was far from relaxed and felt extremely embarrassed. However, Fatima seemed to enjoy the situation. ” Okey Darling. Does it hurt?” "Uh... no" "You like? " "Eh, well, .. uh.. I was not prepared for eh.." ” Baby, don’t be shy, just relax and be a nice little boy?” Her free hand cupped around Rob's balls, and it felt a little too nice to avoid erection. Rob's cock was growing and he really had to bite his tongue to try to limit the "consequences". ” Look at that!” said Fatima and caressed Robs semi-stiff manhood. “Someone’s babymaker is waking up!” Fully aware of what was happening, Fatima now began to slowly move her finger inside his ass. She quickly found a point that elicited insanely nice tickles and Rob found it difficult to stand still. ” Do you have a girlfriend, Darling?” "Eh, no" ” Why? Don’t you like ladies?” "Eh, yes I love women, absolutely. I'm 100 percent heterosexual but right now I don't have a relationship. Uh, oaaa.." Fatima caressed his balls and almost weighed it in her hand. Damn it. Now Rob could no longer control himself and his torpedo blossomed to its full length. ” Yes darling. That’s my baby! When was the last time you had pussy darling?” "Eh , but,, .. It was... okey, unfortunately quite a long time ago." ” Well, ... but when was the last time you used your right hand?” "But eh it..... If you absolutely have to know, I'm actually left-handed and did it a couple of days ago." ” Oh, you naughty little boy!! Well darling. Just so you know, it takes a couple of weeks to have your medical certificate ready. I hope that’s okey for you but ... you should know that there are ways to speed up the process.” She caressed Rob's cock as she said it. Rob couldn't help it, but his cock now stood like an iron skewer. "Uh...? What does that mean?" ” Well darling. You just need to be my little baby boy for a while. Me being your new master putting on a diaper on your white little ass......” Fuck! Rob hardly knew where to go. ” Relax darling, I’m just kidding but make sure you meet me at Ocean view restaurant at six o’clock tomorrow night.” Fatima did not expect an answer and ended the investigation of his now not so private areas. Slightly shocked, Rob put on his clothes while Fatima wrote something in her journal. ” See you later my little baby boy!” ”Eh... Yes Mom!” Damn it, Rob immediately regretted answering like that. It just flew out of him. Fatima raised her eyebrows and looked at him a little superiorly. ” Don’t be late darling, otherwise I will force you to bend over on my lap and spank your white little ass.” ” Okey, I get it!” On the way back to the apartment, Rob realized that his heart was pounding and was so excited that he was in a cold sweat. Fatima had made him feel inferior and the strange thing was that he couldn't decide if he liked it or not.

“Ossccaarrrr,” Mommy's gentle voice called out from the driver seat of the car, but Oscar didn't hear her. His mind was too occupied, too focused on the variety of stimuli sources at his disposal as his mouth remained eagerly fixated on his favorite binky. His hands gently caressed the soft, plush fur of his oversized Teddy who he held gently in his arms as he watched some Youtube on the iPad that hung from the seat in front of him. His oversized, adult car seat provided ample comfort, holding his nearly empty sippy cup in one of its cupholders, as well as a scattered variety fidget toys at his disposal in its various remaining pockets. The heavily tinted windows, and addition of a screen to block out the sun, gave him all the peace of mind he needed to ensure that no one could see in, ultimately creating one of his favorite spots to indulge in himself. “Oscar, sweetie,” Her voice called out again, this time nearly catching his attention as he gently pushed his Teddy into the soft cotton padding of his training pants continuously. “Oscar, baby!” She finally called out, much louder as he reached up to pause his video. “‘es Mommy?” He asked from behind his pacifier, further pushing his Teddy against his privates before refocusing his attention on grabbing his sippy cup. “We're almost home baby, can you help Mommy by getting your pants on?” He let the pacifier fall from his mouth and into his lap, lifting the remaining contents of the sippy cup to his mouth as he nodded, using his free hand to reach for the sweat pants he'd tossed to the side. Long car rides had become a norm for them, of which Oscar almost always removed his pants. Oftentimes he’d even remove his shirt as he enjoyed the feeling of being free, keeping just his training pants on as he'd let himself unwind. Their small town certainly had the essentials, but Mommy often liked to go on bigger shopping trips, or spend time in the suburbs that offered much more exciting things to do. But Oscar never minded. “Thank you, sweetie,” She said in her baby voice, watching him from the rear view as he placed the pacifier back in his mouth before starting to pull his feet through the leg holes of his sweatpants. “Mommy was thinking of inviting Mr. Addison over tonight too,” She asked, a slight tinge of hesitation in her voice as she turned down the main street into their neighborhood. “Is that okay?” Oscar nodded, having already expected as much as he’d been spending more and more time with him and Mommy. Mr. Addison had lived just down the street and divorced several years back. He'd hit it off with Mommy not long after and embraced their unique lifestyle, a plus for Mommy that helped to immensely balance out the give and take aspect of their relationship which Oscar had admittedly taken advantage of early on. “I was thinking he might even spend the weekend?” She asked hopefully, looking back at Oscar through the rear view as he non discretely started to rub against his Teddy again. “Okay, Mommy,” He said, pulling his iPad off the back of the seat as he tried to help gather a few of his things as she pulled into the driveway. “You got everything?” Mommy asked, turning back in the seat to look at him. “Uhh- no, heh,” He said, struggling to get everything into his arms having yet to even unbuckle himself. “Here,” She said, holding out her purse as she held it open. “Dump your toys and stuff in here,” Oscar did as he was told, putting his smaller items in her purse leaving him with just his Teddy and iPad as he undid the buckle. “Take those inside, but then come help Mommy with the groceries,” She said, hitting the button to open his door. Oscar scrambled out of his seat, lugging his oversized Teddy with him as he quickly made his way inside the house to drop them off, quickly followed by Mommy and her radiant smile. “Teddy will be just fine on his own for a few minutes,” She teased as Oscar hesitantly set him down. He smiled, giving a light jog back towards the car as he scooped up as any bags on his arms as he could carry before stumbling back to the house. “Wow,” Mommy cooed. “Such a strong boy for Mommy!” He smiled, beaming with pride as he set the bags on the counter, completely caught off guard as Mr. Addison entered through the door behind them. “Guess whos here!” He called out. “Ah! Hey Hun!” She said, running to his side to greet him with a big kiss. “Hi, Daddy,” Oscar said with a smile of his own, a name he'd only started calling Mr. Addison in the past few weeks. “Did you have a fun trip?” He asked in a childish voice, coming over to give Oscar a big hug. Oscar nodded, embracing the hug as Mr. Addison gave him a tight squeeze before Oscar let go and quickling returned to his Teddy’s side. “I gotta poddy,” Oscar said, a little red in the face as he retrieved his binky. “Yea? Do you want to use the big boy potty?” Mr. Addison asked in a coddling voice, reaching for Oscar's hand as he held his Teddy in the other. Oscar shook his head. “Alright, buddy. You wait right here,” Mr. Addison said, giving a playful head shake to Mommy as Oscar twirled back and forth. “What do you want for dinner, sweetie?” Mommy asked from the kitchen, putting the last of the bags away as she opened the freezer. “Mommy and Daddy are gonna catch a movie tonight, so it's going to be an early bedtime for you,” “Wha’!” Oscar pouted, looking towards his Mommy. “I know, sweetie. That's why you get to have whatever you want for dinner,” She said. A smile slipped through Oscar's face, knowing he'd always ask for his usual but still liked that she’d ask anyways. “Alright, buddy,” Mr. Addison said, returning with a training potty that he set in the middle of the room. “But no Teddy during potty time,” He said, holding out his hand. “Bu’,” Oscar started to protest. “Nuh uh, you know the rules,” Mr Addison quickly shot back, still holding out his hand. “What are they?” “No ‘oys on da poddy,” Oscar responded quietly, reluctantly giving up his Teddy before pulling his pants down and off as he tossed them to the side before doing the same with his shirt. “Except for that cute little binky,” Daddy said, giving his nose a playful wiggle as he smiled. “Also, what is it with his hate for clothes?” Mr. Addison asked teasingly. “Do you want your usual, baby?” Mommy asked, already pulling the dino nuggets out of the freezer before reaching for a box of Mac and cheese. “Yes, pwease!” Oscar shouted, dropping his training pants as he sat on his toilet, his nicely groomed privates on display for both Mommy and Daddy. “Mr. Teddy will be right here when you're done,” Mr. Addison said, gently resting his Teddy on one of the bar stools facing Oscar. “Dank you, Daddy,” Oscar said, his bladder releasing into the training toilet as the audible stream echoed through the room. “Shouldn't you feed him something a little healthier?” Mr. Addison teased, wrapping his arms around Mommy from behind as she arranged the dino nuggets on a baking tray. “Well the day you want to tell him he has to eat his vegetables and go to bed early is the day we can start that,” She said, turning around as they started to kiss. Oscar watched from across the room as Mr. Addison quickly made a romantic moment out of thin air, something he'd always struggled to do. Though something he was good at was ruining it as he let a loud fart loose, echoing in his potty as the squelching sound of his primary business flooded the room as he made his poopies in the potty. “Still happy he calls you Daddy?” Mommy asked with a smirk, watching him realize the source of the sound. “Trade you potty duty for bedtime duty,” He smirked, knowing his odds were slim. “Not a chance,” She said, bopping him on the nose before turning to slide the nuggets into the oven. “There's some wipes in my purse,” “Alright, bud. Ready to wipe?” Mr. Addison asked, opening up the pack of baby wipes as he held them out for Oscar to reach. Oscar grabbed one, running the cool wipe across his butt before dropping it into the potty. “Oh no, get in there, Mr,” Mommy called from across the room. “Last time you left the wiping to him he had a big old skid mark on his undies,” “The boys gotta learn,” He teased. “Then show him how,” Mommy retorted. He reluctantly grabbed another wipe, tracing it down Oscar's crack, giving a good few circles around Oscar's laxed hole as he playfully teased him before a second pass. Mr. Addison had certainly entered their lives for Mommy, but had taken an unexpected interest in Oscar after a few months of the relationship. Though Oscar was certainly his second choice, usually only paying special attention to him when Mommy wasn't in the mood or was on her period. “Danks, Daddy,” Oscar said cutely, willing to make Mr. Addison's simple fantasies of oral come true, though they had pushed thei relationship a little further in recent months. He quickly got up, pulling his dino training pants back up as he ran to his Teddy, grabbing him off the bar stool before running towards the stairs. “Dinners in 15!” Mommy called out as his butt disappeared up the stairs. She shook her head, always in disbelief with how much energy he managed to retain throughout the day as she looked at Mr. Addison with a smile. “What time’s our reservation?” “6:30,” Mr. Addison said, returning to her side as he kissed her on the neck. “Wow, we're really giving him an early bedtime,” Mommy chuckled, embracing his further advancing kisses as he worked his way down her neck. “Good thing I'm not on the bedtime routine,” Mr. Addison teased as the oven's timer went off. “Speaking of your duties,” She joked, turning around to give him a peck on the lips before gesturing towards the potty. Oscar remained upstairs, a space that had been almost entirely transformed into his. The two bedrooms upstairs exited into a den or sorts, which had been stocked with a TV and various game consoles on top of a large media cabinet that housed his bins of toys. Two large bean bags sat propped on the floor next to his Lego table where a massive city project grew bigger by the month. His bedroom resembled that of a toddlers, the light blue walls decorated with a series of clouds and rolling hills. His twin sized bed had rails on all sides, not tall enough to trap any actual adult but tall enough to help sell the illusion as piles of stuffed animals and loose toy cars covered the ground. Colorful art prints of cute animals covered the walls with the occasional drawing or two of his that Mommy insisted on hanging on his walls as a way to further embarrass him. A small shelf in the corner contained a loose stack of diapers, of which he'd been able to avoid for months now. The second room on the other hand was still mostly just storage, the junk room in the house where things without a place wound up as Oscar tried to dream up the perfect use for the space. “Oscar!” Mommy called up the stairs as he sat in one of the beanbags, his attention fully focused on his game he'd been watching videos on the whole car ride home, his pacifier very much in place as his Teddy provided a place to rest his hands. “Oscar! Dinner!” Mr. Addison shouted, catching Oscars attention as he paused his game, picking up his Teddy as he ran back down the stairs. “I'll take that,” Mr. Addison said, quickly taking the loosely held Teddy as Oscar jumped up into his seat. “Uhuh- hold on buddy,” Mommy said, pulling the plastic plate with small dividers to separate his nuggets, Mac and cheese and BBQ dipping sauce. “Where's your shirt?” “Uh- I don't know,” He said, pulling his pacifier out as he set it on the counter giving a half hearted attempt to look around. She sighed, smiling as she opened one of the drawers to pull out one of his baby bibs. “I don't need that!” He protested. “Yes, you do,” She insisted, circling the island to secure it around his neck. “We're not gonna have time for a bath tonight so I can't have you making yourself all sticky!” He pouted, leaning over the counter to grab his plate as he pulled it closer. “What do you want to drink, sweetie?” Mommy asked, grabbing a sippy cup from the cabinet as she opened the fridge. “Milkies, pwease,” He said, diving one of his nuggets into the BBQ sauce as he devoured it. “What movie are you guys seeing?” “I’m not sure,” Mommy said. “Daddy said it's a surprise,” Mr. Addison gave her a playful wink, holding Oscar’s Teddy over the counter, playfully rubbing his crotch against it from behind to signal his plans for Mommy. “Oh stop it,” She said flustered, sliding the sippy cup of milk to Oscar who shared a smile, knowing that his plans were very much the same for his Teddy. He scarfed down his food as they made their way in and out of the master bedroom in their attempt to get ready. “All done!” Oscar announced, getting up to grab his Teddy. “Good job, sweetie,” Mommy said. “Can you brush your teeth for Mommy?” “I haven't finished my milk,” He said, gesturing towards the still mostly full sippy cup. “That's fine, sweetie. You can take it upstairs with you,” She said. “Come brush your teeth in Mommys bathroom,” Oscar scuttled after her, passing Mr. Addison who was busy tying his tie, his nicely fit suit catching Oscar’s attention as he passed. “Think you can handle it from here?” Mommy asked as Oscar reached for his toothbrush on the counter. “Mhmm,” He said proudly, opening the drawer to pull out his childish toothpaste as he squeezed a generous amount onto the head of the brush. He quickly brushed, listening to Mommy and Daddy’s slight giggles in the room as he waited for the built in timer on his electric toothbrush to turn off, signaling he’d done enough. “Almost done, bud?” Mr. Addison asked, suddenly appearing in his full suit as Oscar found himself in slight awe. “Uhh-” He let out, feeling as though the timer should have been up as he clicked the brush off himself, spitting into the sink as he turned the water on. “Uh huh,” Mr. Addison smirked, ruffling his hair as Oscar leaned over the sink to wash his mouth out. “I’ll let that slide this time,” He chuckled. “Are you ready for bed then?” Oscar nodded, wiping his mouth as he looked back at Mr. Addison, feeling a sense of emotion that usually only Mommy had triggered. He’d never been explicitly gay or bi in any way, though he’d realized he wasn’t straight early on, just never bothered to put a label on exactly what it was. “Right,” Mommy said, stepping into the bathroom as Oscar stared dumbfoundingly at Daddy. “Just got to put this one-” She stopped, looking at Daddy who couldn’t help but puff out his chest as she smiled. “This one to bed,” She continued, her smile growing as she reached for Oscar’s hand. Oscar complied, following after Mommy as he turned to look back at Daddy as they darted around the corner, quickly making their way up to his bedroom. She pulled the covers over him, tightly tucking him in though she knew he’d quickly throw the sheets all about. “I love you, sweetie,” She said softly, leaning in to give him a kiss on the forehead. “I love you,” Oscar said clutching his Teddy tightly. She smiled, getting up as she dimmed the lights to his room, exposing the glowing stars on the ceiling as she gently closed the door. Oscar tossed about, loosening the covers as he reached for his iPad on the nightstand, propping it against a pillow as he opened up Youtube and settled in. The time passed quickly, eventually striking 8pm as his iPad went black, returning to the lockscreen as the parental controls set in indicating his usual bedtime. He tossed the iPad to the side, its durable case taking the brunt of it as it tumbled to the floor, though not his intent. Admittedly, he enjoyed nights with an early bedtime more and more as they were Mommy and Daddy's way of turning a blind eye, letting him play with himself and explore his own interests further without any repercussions. He rolled over, readjusting his Teddy as he began to rub his pee pee with his free hand, running small circles from the outside his soft cotton training pants, quickly replacing it with that of his Teddy’s. He slipped the soft, plush arm deeper inside his panties as he rubbed his stiffening member knowing that he'd be fast asleep in a pair of crusty training pants in no time. Did you enjoy the story? Consider supporting my work over on SubscribeStar! Or be sure to let me know what you thought by interacting with the post!

Okay, I know I should be working on many other stories...but I love Helluva Boss, and after someone already did a Loona de-aging fanfic (that sadly had very few canon things there, but it was still a very good story despite that), I had to get on mine, since Loona's my favorite. For those paying attention to Helluva Boss, a fair warning: this story occurs a bit after Loona gets her Hellbies shot, so some of the other things that have happened aren't going to happen in this story. I've taken a few liberties with some of the Sins that haven't appeared and Loona's past as well (as we don't know exactly what happened), so take that into account as well. Anyway, as a warning, this is Hell, so there's going to be a lot of complicated content warnings for this story that I urge you to take heed of in the tags. I promise to warn you when they come, but I do want to warn you ahead of time. Anyway, on with the show! - Chapter One: Expectations. - Octavia was tired of hearing her parents fighting, especially when it involved her. Stolas and Stella - her father and mother - were screeching at each other like homicidal demonic barn owls (don’t ask her how she knew that; some things weren’t meant for living human minds), barely paying attention to her, and yet…custody. Fucking custody. Over her. Just…why? It wasn’t fair. Yes, Loona had said that families were complicated, but this right after she had run away the last time… The owl-like Goetia heiress froze. Loona. The hellhound was definitely a bit rough around the edges, definitely sarcastic and rude, but she could talk to her, maybe? The last time, when she was lost on Earth, looking for a meteor shower she had waited years to see, it had been Loona who found her…and unlocked a side of her she thought was missing. Octavia felt like - in Loona - she had a sister, an elder sister she could confide in, someone braver than she was, someone whom she could…look up to, maybe? Her fucking emotions were getting the best of her, maybe, but hell with it. Lucifer, what if I’m being…no, time to be brave, Via, show Father and Mother what a mistake they’re making. She was going to go to I.M.P., maybe read from the Grimoire, maybe find a way to placate her parents, somehow, maybe talk to Loona, see what she thought. She had no idea Loona was already having a bad day. - Loona was pissed at Moxxie. Fucking fatass (he wasn’t really fat, she admitted to herself, but she needed another reason to hate the smug little prick.) imp was beyond late to work along with Millie, his wife. Bad enough she had five fucking years worth of her yearly Hellbies shot (She hated shots. Shots in the pound usually meant…euthanization for the hellhounds who aged out…like she had nearly been before Blitzo - known to all as “Blitz”; the “o” was silent - had adopted her. Blitz had lied to her twice, by the way: it was not “one little prick”, and her ass was still sore from it, so he lied about not feeling it as well. Thank Lucifer the cone was off, at least.) a week ago, but now he was pacing the halls, trying to figure out where they were. “Goddammit, if you could be any later, Moxxie, I’d need a fucking stopwatch to fucking time you…” Blitz muttered. If his voice didn’t clearly show his annoyance, the tic of him scratching the white and black, curved horns on his bald head certainly did. Loona knew that if the imp paced any more, he was going to wear out the floorboards - and they had survived a fire from hellectric eels (don’t ask), so she personally knew how tough they were to destroy and/or wear out. She flicked her bluish-gray hair fur to one side, her red eyes firmly focused on her most prized possession: her H-Phone 666 LX, a gift to her from Blitz for her twenty-first birthday a year ago. Then Moxxie and Millie broke down the door - quite literally. “You know that’s coming out of your paycheck, fatass,” Loona said, not even looking up from her phone as it played VoxTube videos. No response. She raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like Moxxie to not defend himself from her taunts. “Okay, why are you two fucking hours late?” Blitz demanded. “We were supposed to be using the Grimoire for our target, and-“ “Sorry, Sir, but…” Moxxie twirled a strand of his white hair nervously (not that Loona was paying any attention or cared what Moxxie thought; it was clearly phone time). “We’re expecting!” Millie finished excitedly in her Wrathian drawl, her yellow eyes gleaming as Moxxie brushed her glistening black hair. “What, like a prize for being late?” Loona snarked, not even looking up from her phone. “No, silly: a baby!” Millie giggled. Blitz’s eyes went as wide as full moons, as he looked at them, doing a double-take at them. “Wha-WHAT?!” he stammered. “So, you were-“ “Well, I took the test, showed red, then went to the doctor who confirmed it!” the female imp gushed with excitement, as Moxxie wrapped his small, gentle arms protectively around his wife’s stomach. “Oh, that’s, uh, congrats!” the head of Immediate Murder Professionals (hence the name “I.M.P.”) said, his eyes gaining a semblance of…warmth? An unfamiliar emotion was growing in the pit of Loona’s stomach. She didn’t know what to call it, but she didn’t like it one bit. “So, Sir, we all have a lot of back pay from our jobs, so…” Moxxie began. “First kid’s always worth a break,” Blitz said with a jovial laugh. “Loony-Toony might have to join us later on while Millie handles the Grimoire, but-“ Loona barely heard the excited imp talking because she recognized a different, yet all-too familiar emotion bubbling up to the surface: anger. The hellhound had a nice job as the secretary of I.M.P. Yeah, going out in the human world for occasional work was fun and all, but her job was simple: open a portal to the human world, listen for when the three imps needed to get back, reopen a portal back. She had a routine. She had time to go on her phone, go to the latest Sinstagram pics and VoxTube videos, get a cup of coffee, and wait by herself, with no one’s problems but her own bugging her. And now this…this was threatening the entirety of that safe routine. And she was realizing the unfamiliar emotion was very familiar, after all: envy. A fucking imp baby with Millie replacing her job, and judging by Blitz’s expression, replace his affection for her. That’s all she was, when it came down to it: replaceable. Even after she told Blitz that she’d be there with him, she was still replaceable. The next words tumbled out of her mouth before she could take them back. “How do you know that they’re telling the truth? I mean, are you sure Moxxie can even have kids?” Loona immediately realized she had said something wrong with the immensely hurt look in Millie’s eyes, a pulsing vein throbbing dangerously in Moxxie’s temple as he drew his pistol, pointed it at her and shouted furiously, “YOU TAKE THAT BACK, YOU BITCH!” But the worst was Blitz looking…disappointed, as he said, “Now, Loony, you need to apologize to Moxxie and Millie.” “How about he apologizes for calling me the b-slur?” Loona snarled at Blitz without even thinking, her rising anger taking over. “LOONA, you will apologize to Moxxie and Millie.” Blitz’s voice was surprisingly stern, even a bit angry - a tone that, to her knowledge, he had almost never taken with her. “Oh, so you can replace me with the little brat, huh, Blitz, be a real dad as you stalk them in their private lives like you usually do? Well, guess what, Blitz: you aren’t a fucking real dad! You aren’t their kid’s dad, and you aren’t my fucking dad either!” She felt a vile concoction of satisfaction and guilt course through her as Blitz looked as if she had hit him. It almost would’ve felt better to her if he had hit her back, if he said anything at all. Even Moxxie was stunned into lowering his gun. “I-is this a bad time?” a new voice asked. Octavia Goetia had made her appearance, all four of them looking at her in simultaneous shock, the same look the demoness had on her face. Loona took the Grimoire from the safe, and Blitz didn’t even protest, the hurt look in his eyes saying all that needed to be said. “C’mon, Via, we’re crashing at my place,” Loona said darkly, as she held the Goetia heiress’s clawed hand to the demoness’s shock, leaving the job, the silent absence of a protest echoing in her heart. - Hope y'all enjoyed~ I don't know if I'll have a regular schedule for uploading; I never do, but I'll do my best every week, I think.

So I was wondering how the community feels about Public Messing on purpose. Does it make you happy, does it make you self-conscious, does it give you a rush, does it not affect you at all, etc.?

Rei Takagai was a small 10 year old was currently being dropped off at her stepsisters house since her parents were going to be going out for the night as she carried her suitcase inside

Preview to my Halloween story Called Carnival Fun! I have been working on this story for a while and have it almost finished. I hope everyone likes the preview and as Halloween gets closer I will post more chapters! Thanks! Chapter 1: Ashley looked around the daycare looking at all of the children running around in there Halloween costumes. She always loved Halloween the idea of going house to house trick or treating always made her feel so extra childish. She looked up at the clock seeing it was already 3 o clock knowing her friend Rachel would be coming to pick her up in an hour so they could go to the Halloween carnival together. She walked into her office grabbing her cell phone off of her desk and decided to call her friend to make sure she had gotten her costume for her as her phone began to ring. Rachel was combing her hair making sure everything was perfect for tonight as she saw her phone vibrating on her dresser seeing Ashley was calling her. She answered the phone saying "Hey Girl" as Ashley smiled saying "Hey I was just calling to make sure everything was still on" Rachel spoke up saying "of course, I am getting ready right now and should be there in an hour so be ready to go." Ashley began to get confused asking "How am I suppose to get ready without an outfit, it was your turn to buy our costumes." Rachel began to freak out telling her "I am so sorry I thought we were buying our own this year since we both live in different towns." Ashley looked up at the clock once again telling her friend "I will try to figure something out and will be ready when you get here, but you owe me one" as Rachel told her "I will get you back" as she hung up the phone. Ashley began to hear the front door opening and peaked her head out of her office watching as parents began making there way inside of her daycare. After watching all of the children leave she looked at the clock seeing it had all ready been 30 minutes and she would need to be dressed ready for Rachel. She began to scan the daycare wondering what she could do as she walked towards the nursery. She began scanning through the closet seeing the array of baby clothing as she placed her hand on a pink sleeper. She grabbed the hanger walking over to the large mirror and placed the sleeper to her body staring in shock seeing how much of a perfect fit it was. Ashley was a small girl she was 4"0 and weighed around 90 pounds which always seemed to leave her being mistaken for a child from time to time. She took the sleeper off the hanger and turned it around noticing the words across the chest reading "Mommy's Baby Girl" stitched into the sleeper. She stared back up at clock seeing she only had 20 mintues until Rachel would be here as she stripped herself out of her t-shirt and jeans leaving herself in just her panties and bra. She picked up the sleeper as she stared at the words on the sleeper seeing the word "Baby" as she turned her head towards the changing table and began to smile knowing she had a fun idea. Rachel pulled into the daycare parking lot and began to wonder why she wasn't already outside waiting for her. She parked her car right outside the front door and decided to leave her car running to go check on her friend. She walked into the front of the building and noticed a stroller parked with the hood down. She looked down at the bottom of the stroller seeing 2 feet on the foot rest wondering why Ashley didn't tell her she was bringing a child along with them as she walked around the stroller seeing a set of keys and a note. She read the note reading the words "Lock up" written on the note as her mind began to click and pulled the front of the hood of the stroller up and stared shockingly at her friend dressed like an infant. She tried so hard not to laugh and wondered where she would of got such an outfit staring at her friend clad in a baby sleeper and bonnet sucking on a pacifier clipped to her sleeper. Ashley looked up seeing that her friend had found her and pulled out her pacifier telling her "Twik or tweat" as Rachel began to coo at her friend. Rachel couldn't help telling her friend how adorable she looked and asked her were she had gotten her outfit. Ashley still in character told her friend "goo goo ga ga" as Rachel smiled asking her friend "So I guess I am stuck baby sitting tonight" as Ashley giggled behind her pacifier nodding at her friend. Rachel pushed the stroller out the front door making sure to lock the door behind her. She opened her passage door as Ashley tried to climb out herself, but quickly found a swat on her backside and blushed as Rachel couldn't help but laughing from the loud thud that came from the swat. She picked up her friend asking "I see I really do have a baby tonight diapers and all" as Ashley continued to suck on the pacifier nervously as she was placed in the front seat. Rachel pushed the stroller around to the trunk as she tried to fold the buggy up and began to wonder why it wasn't folding noticing a large bag. She pulled the bag from out of the bottom seeing her friend had come prepared seeing 2 baby bottles on the outside of the bag along with the zipper looking like it was ready to pop and placed the buggy and diaper bag into the trunk. She opened her driver side seat seeing her friend already buckled in to her seat telling her how proud she was of her for being so prepared for her and telling her how much fun they were going to have tonight treating her as if she was an actual child as Ashley smiled and began clapping her hands. Ashley couldn't help but notice the outfit her friend had chosen it was a basic nurses outfit complete with her own tiara. She thought about how much fun they were going to have tonight and pulled out her pacifier asking her friend "Its been way too long since we have hung out" as Rachel turned her head smiling at her friend telling her "It sure has" as Ashley smiled down at her outfit wondering if she had chosen the right outfit. Rachel looked over at her friend asking her "is everything alright?" as Ashley broke out of her daydream nodding slowly. Rachel always knew Ashley was a bad liar and knew what to do to get her to tell as she pulled into the parking lot of the carnival. She parked her car and unbuckled her seat belt and immediately began tickling her friend. Ashley began laughing as hard as she could begging her friend to stop as she told her "that maybe dressing up like a baby wasn't such a good idea." Rachel began to smile telling her "Your thinking too hard about this and need to relax" as she gave her friend a playful pat on her diapered crotch telling her "just have fun" as Ashley smiled placing the pacifier back into her mouth watching as Rachel got out of the car. Rachel pulled the stroller out of the back of the car setting it up like her friend had it and grabbed the diaper bag sticking it underneath. She opened the passenger door up and scooped her friend up into her arms as she walked towards the stroller as people began to walk by cooing at Ashley telling Rachel how adorable she looked as Ashley blushed wondering if she looked that much like a real baby as Rachel placed her into the stroller. Rachel began to realize how much everyone really saw her as a baby and took her bonnet off the top of her head so people could see her face and stuck it in the outside flap of the baby bag as she walked towards the carnival. Ashley looked up at Rachel wondering why she took off her bonnet and turned to see that they were walking towards the carnival. She looked around seeing everyone from town was here even noticing some of her charges were here with there parents running around in there costumes as they made there way to the entrance booth. Ashley looked up at the entrance booth instantly seeing one of the parents from the daycare it was Ms.Davis. Rachel walked over to the desk telling the woman 2 tickets please as Ms. Davis stared at Rachel telling her baby's get a hand stamp as she walked over to the front of the stroller instantly realizing who was inside as she gasped saying "Ashley?" Ashley stared up at the woman as she sucked on the pacifier nodding as Ms. Davis began to coo at her telling her how adorable she looked. Ms. Davis couldn't believe what she was looking at as she told Ashley that her little Margaret was in the carnival daycare and would be tickled to see her teacher dressed this way as Rachel smiled down at her friend who was beginning to feel very embarrassed telling the woman "I am sure we will bump into them some time tonight" as Ms.Davis waved good bye as Rachel pushed her friend towards the rest of the carnival. Rachel looked around seeing all of the attractions wondering what they should do first as the words hypnotism caught her eye from a booth at the very end. She spoke up asking "Baby do you see whats in front of us as Ashley looked up seeing the same booth reading hypnotism across the sign as she pulled out her pacifier telling Rachel "you know a person really cant be hypnotized?" as Rachel laughed saying "will see" as she walked towards the booth.

Welcome to Mommy Anna's Diapered Storybook! Some of you may know me from my website, diaperhypnosis.com My recent experience of having my store on Etsy closed because of their discrimination against our community (they are closing down all ABDL hypnosis audio there) has been one more reminder to me of how important it is for us to stay together as a community. I've decided to publish full-length diaper and regression stories, for free, as a special way of giving back to our community. I'm also recording these stories and posting them (full-length) on my YouTube channel, so you can hear me read them there. Mommy Emma from diaperhypnosis.com will also be recording some of these stories for YouTube. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these stories and keep being the wonderful you that you are! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ethan hadn’t planned on going out that night, but the quiet buzz of the bar called to him like a lullaby. It wasn’t loud or crowded—just warm lighting, soft jazz, and the faint scent of vanilla in the air. That’s where he saw her. She was older, confident, with a soothing smile and eyes that seemed to see past his words and into the ache beneath. Her name was Jenn. They talked for hours. She listened more than she spoke, asking questions that made him feel small—but in a safe way, not judged. When she gently took his hand and whispered, “Would you like to come home with me, sweetheart?” he didn’t hesitate. Her apartment was cozy. Dim lighting, plush rugs, and a subtle scent of lavender. They kissed, slowly at first. Her hands caressed him not with hunger, but with ownership. She guided him to the couch, and when her blouse slipped down to reveal her soft, full breasts, he felt himself drawn—not by lust, but by a quiet craving he didn’t understand. He kissed her there, gently. Her nipple brushed his lips. Then, unexpectedly, there was a taste. Warm, sweet, comforting. He pulled back in surprise. “You’re lactating?” She smiled, cupping the back of his head. “Yes, baby. And I think you need it.” He wanted to argue, to deny it, but she pressed him close. The moment he began suckling, something shifted inside him. The world dimmed. Her heartbeat filled his ears. Her milk flooded his senses with a warmth that softened his thoughts. His limbs felt heavier. Time blurred. Confusion danced through his mind. This isn’t right. I’m a grown man. But the milk was too comforting, too full of something he couldn’t name—something that made it hard to think, and even harder to care. Jenn rocked him, humming softly as he nursed, one hand stroking his hair. “That’s it, little one. Drink deep. Let go.” His thoughts unraveled. Words became fuzzy. Memories slipped away like leaves down a stream. He tried to pull back, to protest, but all that came out was a whimper. Jenn pulled him into her lap once more, her voice low and soothing. “You’re doing so well, my sweet little baby.” He blinked up at her, struggling to speak. He wanted to ask what was happening to him, why his legs felt weak, why his arms seemed shorter, pudgier. She kissed his forehead. “Shhh. No more thinking. Babies don’t need to think.” Before he could protest, she lifted him effortlessly. It shouldn’t have been possible—but in her arms, he felt weightless, like a toddler being carried to bed after a long day. He tried to speak again, but only a soft babble escaped. She carried him down the hall, into a room he hadn’t noticed before. When she opened the door, his heart thudded in his chest—because he knew, without a doubt, that it was a nursery. Not just any nursery. A baby girl’s nursery. The walls were painted a soft blush pink, adorned with hand-painted clouds and pastel rainbows. A white wooden crib stood against the far wall, draped with a sheer canopy and stuffed with plush animals. A matching changing table stood nearby, fully stocked with diapers, powders, bottles, and wipes arranged neatly in little woven baskets. A pink diaper pail sat in the corner. The room smelled faintly of baby powder and lavender. There were framed pictures on the wall: whimsical drawings of baby animals in dresses, a pastel alphabet with illustrations, a scripted sign that read “Mommy’s Precious Princess.” “No…” he whispered, or tried to. He kicked feebly, but Jenn just cradled him closer. “Shhh,” she said firmly. “You’re fussy. That’s okay. You’ll learn.” She set him down on the changing table and, with practiced ease, secured a soft, padded strap across his belly. He squirmed, but it was no use. His limbs weren’t strong anymore. He looked down at his chubby hands, now barely larger than a toddler’s, and panic swelled in his chest. Then came the humiliation. She untaped a pink, frilly diaper from a drawer. “First things first, my little girl needs her bottom cleaned and padded. Can’t have you making messes on the floor.” He whimpered, trying to twist away, but she just chuckled. “Still squirmy. Tsk. We’ll work on that.” She gently removed what was left of his grown-up clothes, leaving him naked on the padded table. He flushed crimson, every inch of him burning with shame. Then came the cool wipe across his bottom, the thick layer of lotion, the puff of sweet-scented powder. She took her time, humming as she worked, speaking to him as if he truly were an infant. “And now, baby girl, Mommy just needs to check your temperature to make sure you’re feeling okay…” He let out a pathetic squeak as she reached for a thermometer, coated it in lubricant, and—gently but firmly—slid it into place. His face flushed deeper than he thought possible. He looked away, cheeks burning. “Such a shy baby,” she cooed. “But Mommy knows what’s best.” Once she was satisfied, she pulled the thick, ruffled pink diaper up between his legs and taped it snugly around his waist. It crinkled loudly. The thickness forced his legs apart. She added a pair of lace-trimmed plastic panties over top, then dressed him in a white onesie with pink hearts and the words “Mommy’s Baby Girl” in glittery letters across the chest. He wanted to scream, to demand that this wasn’t right—but the words wouldn’t come. Only a soft whine and a fluttering of his lip. He hated how natural it felt to suckle his thumb when she gently placed it there. Jenn lifted him into her arms and cradled him against her chest again. “There we go. All nice and padded. Mommy’s sweet baby girl.” He cried softly—humiliated, confused, and helpless—as she rocked him and kissed his forehead. The next few days became a blur of babyhood. Sweet, surreal, and all-encompassing. Soft lights, lullabies, and babyish routines. His world shrank. Jenn cared for him tenderly. Every morning, she changed his diaper, cooing softly about how wet her little girl had gotten overnight. She kept him in a rotating wardrobe of dresses, onesies, rompers, and frilly socks—all in pinks, pastels, and florals. She brushed his fine hair and even clipped little bows in it. Diaper changes were frequent and thorough, done on a padded table with soft wipes, powder, and cooing affection. Each time she fastened the tapes on his thick, crinkly diapers, she’d kiss his tummy and murmur, “There we go, my precious baby girl.” She breastfed him several times a day, holding him in her lap and humming lullabies while he nursed. He found himself melting into the comfort, his body relaxing with each rhythmic suckle. It was humiliating, yes—but also strangely comforting, deeply calming. It quieted the storm in his mind and lulled him into a dreamy haze. Meal time meant being strapped into a high chair, where she spoon-fed mushy, pastel-colored baby food, spooned carefully into his mouth as he sat strapped into a pink high chair decorated with cartoon animals. When he got fussy or refused a bite, Jenn would gently scold him. “Uh-uh, little one,” she’d say, tapping his nose with the spoon. “No tantrums at the table.” And once, when he kicked over his bowl in protest, she sighed, picked him up, and carried him over her lap. “You need to learn, baby girl,” she murmured, pulling down his diaper and delivering a firm but loving spanking—just enough to make his bottom sting, just enough to make him cry softly into her shoulder afterward as she cuddled him close. She dressed him in a rotating wardrobe of baby girl outfits—lacey dresses, onesies with puffed sleeves, frilly socks, and pastel bonnets. Every morning was a new ensemble, and every one was chosen with a smile and a kiss on his forehead. “You’re my perfect little princess,” she’d say as she brushed his fine hair and pinned on bows. The playpen became his realm during the day. Surrounded by plush toys and soft blankets, he found himself napping, giggling, and playing with rattles without even realizing how far he’d surrendered. Nights were spent in a crib with high wooden bars, a mobile spinning above him while Jenn tucked him in, her lullabies soothing him into sleep. Then came the public outings. She took him to the park in a large stroller, his dress bouncing with every push, pacifier bobbing in his mouth. People cooed at him, assuming he was just a very adorable baby girl. Jenn would smile proudly and say, “She’s my little angel.” Ethan blushed so deeply he thought he might melt. He blushed furiously, unable to do anything but kick his legs and hide his face. At a boutique baby store, Jenn proudly showed off her “daughter” to the staff, letting them fawn over him. He wanted the ground to swallow him whole when they picked out new bonnets and booties “just perfect for such a precious little princess.” At the grocery store, she placed him in the shopping cart’s seat, his legs dangling helplessly in thick diapers under a ruffled dress. She pushed him through the baby aisle, selecting more supplies while chatting to him like any loving mommy would. The most surreal moment came when Jenn’s friends first visited. Three women arrived, all of them older women with amused, indulgent smiles. They complimented Jenn on her “parenting” and took turns bouncing him on their knees, patting his thickly diapered bottom, and pinching his cheeks. Cooing and fussing over “the baby.” They took turns holding him, feeding him, changing him. Even commenting on how cute he looked in his pink footed pajamas. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a real sweetheart,” one said, bouncing him on her knee. “She needed this,” Jenn replied warmly. “She’s much happier this way.” And Ethan, no, baby Ellie, as Jenn now called him, could only gurgle and nuzzle into her shoulder, too deep in his new world to do anything else. He hated how small he felt—but even more, how safe. Somewhere deep down, part of him had stopped fighting. Each night ended in her arms, suckling at her breast until sleep claimed him, safe and warm and very, very small. The days melted together like cotton candy on the tongue—sweet, sticky, and impossible to separate. Morning light always came gently in Jenn’s home. Soft curtains let the sun filter through in a golden haze, warming the nursery that now belonged to baby Ellie. She’d wake up in her crib to the sound of gentle humming, a melody that seemed to float through the house and wrap around her like a blanket. By the time she opened her eyes, Mommy Jenn was already there, reaching in with open arms. “There’s my sleepy girl,” she cooed, lifting Ellie from the crib with practiced ease. “Did baby have sweet dreams?” Ellie’s diaper was always the first concern—damp and warm after the night, sagging slightly between her thighs. Jenn would carry her to the changing table, humming softly while she stripped off Ellie’s footed pajamas and unfastened the tapes of her diaper with that same knowing smile. “Mmm, someone made a soggy little mess, didn’t she? Such a helpless baby girl,” she whispered lovingly as she cleaned Ellie with warm wipes, powdered her carefully, and taped her into a fresh, puffy pink diaper. “All clean and crinkly again. Just how Mommy likes her.” After a fresh change, the real magic began—dressing up. The wardrobe Jenn had prepared seemed endless. Lacy rompers, pastel dresses with ruffled sleeves, oversized bows, heart-patterned tights, soft mary janes. Each outfit was chosen to make Ellie look and feel every inch the dainty baby girl she now was. And Jenn dressed her with the care of a seamstress and the affection of a mother. Breakfast followed in the high chair. Today’s menu: banana oatmeal with a splash of breastmilk, spoon-fed lovingly one bite at a time. “Open wide for Mommy,” Jenn would sing, guiding the spoon toward Ellie’s lips. When Ellie pouted or squirmed, Jenn gently patted her thigh and gave her a firm look. “Babies don’t fuss at breakfast, little one. Do you need Mommy to remind you how we behave?” It only took one sharp smack on her thigh to remind Ellie what happened when she acted out. Jenn didn’t need to raise her voice. A light spanking—five or six firm swats over her diaper—or a stern time-out in the playpen was always enough to bring her back to submission, her head resting on Jenn’s shoulder as she sobbed softly into the fabric of her dress. Despite the occasional discipline, Ellie had never felt more cherished. Breastfeeding sessions were becoming more frequent now. Jenn insisted they were essential for bonding—and Ellie had stopped resisting. She would curl up against her Mommy’s breast, mouth latching instinctively, suckling while Jenn stroked her hair and whispered lullabies or dreamy affirmations. “You’re my baby girl. You belong right here,” she whispered. “You don’t need to worry about anything. Mommy knows what’s best.” And the more Ellie nursed, the more she believed it. Outings became part of their routine. One day, Jenn dressed Ellie in a pink and white sailor dress with puffed sleeves and a matching bonnet. Her diaper bulged beneath white tights, and her shoes made the faintest tap-tap sound as she was carried to the stroller. They walked to the park, where Jenn laid out a pastel picnic blanket and fed Ellie mashed pears from a jar while other mothers watched from afar, smiling at the adorable “baby girl.” Some even came over to chat. “She’s just precious,” one woman said, peeking into the stroller. “What’s her name?” “Ellie,” Jenn beamed proudly. “She’s my special girl.” Another woman leaned closer. “She looks so peaceful. You must be a wonderful mommy.” Jenn chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from Ellie’s forehead. “She needs a firm hand now and then, but yes... being her mommy is the best thing I’ve ever done.” After the park, they stopped by a boutique baby store. Ellie was carried in, resting on Jenn’s hip with her diaper crinkling audibly with every bounce. The shop assistant cooed immediately. “Oh, what a darling little angel! Looking for something special today?” “Yes,” Jenn smiled. “Some new dresses and a pacifier clip for my little one here. She likes to toss hers when she’s fussy.” Ellie blushed, burying her face in Jenn’s shoulder. By the time they got home, Ellie was exhausted. Jenn bathed her in a warm bubble bath, gently washing her hair and skin, talking to her the entire time. “Babies need their rest,” she said, wrapping her in a hooded towel covered in bunnies. “Especially fussy girls who need Mommy to keep them in line.” That night, after one final change into a nighttime diaper and footie pajamas with clouds and hearts, Jenn rocked her baby girl in a plush glider, whispering softly: “Mommy’s so proud of you. You’re doing so well, my precious Ellie. You don’t have to be anything else anymore. Just be my baby. My sweet, obedient, diapered little girl.” And Ellie, nestled in her arms with a pacifier in her mouth and a full tummy, drifted off—no longer fighting, no longer questioning. By the end of the first week, something had changed in him. The humiliation hadn’t lessened. He still blushed every time she called him her “pretty princess” or praised him for making “big girl wettings” in his diaper. But the resistance inside him had softened. What once felt like punishment now felt like care. Structure. Safety. She always knew what he needed before he did. When he got fussy, she held him. When he whined, she hushed him with a warm bottle or the gentle tug of her nipple. And in those quiet moments in the nursery bathed in afternoon sunlight, while resting in her arms, dressed in soft flannel footie pajamas, he began to feel something strange and frightening: peace. One night, after she’d bathed him, powdered him, and dressed him in a frilly nightgown, she sat in the nursery rocker, cradling him against her chest. He stared up at her with wide, glassy eyes. “Wuv you, Mommy,” he mumbled before he could stop himself. Her smile was radiant. She kissed his forehead, stroked his hair. “Oh, my sweet baby girl… Mommy loves you, too.” He suckled her in silence, tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t know why he cried—only that he needed her, in a way deeper than he’d ever needed anyone. By the end of the second week, Ellie no longer remembered what it felt like to wear grown-up clothes, or even think grown-up thoughts. Each morning began the same: soft lullabies, a soggy diaper, and Mommy’s loving arms lifting her into a new day. And yet, every morning felt more special than the last, as though Jenn was carefully painting Ellie’s new life stroke by gentle stroke. They had fallen into a rhythm, a beautiful little world of their own. Mommy began introducing daily rituals to help Ellie stay “in the right little headspace.” After breakfast and a morning change, they had “mirror time.” Jenn would sit Ellie down on a plush pink rug in front of a tall mirror. She’d prop her up, brush her hair slowly, and talk to her in a sweet, soothing tone. “Look at that baby girl,” she’d whisper, gently guiding Ellie to look into her own reflection. “See those rosy cheeks? That pouty little mouth? That thick, puffy diaper between your legs? That’s who you are now, sweetie.” Ellie blushed every time—but she didn’t look away. Jenn would tie her hair into pigtails or soft curls with pastel bows and praise her for being such a pretty girl. Then came crib time journaling, a strange but soothing activity. Jenn would hand Ellie a soft, padded baby book and a chunky crayon. Though Ellie’s coordination had regressed—her handwriting more like scribbles than letters—Jenn insisted it was important. “Just draw what you feel, baby,” she said, tucking Ellie into the crib with her plush bear. “Show Mommy what’s in that sweet little mind.” Most pages ended up with hearts, clouds, or crude stick figures of Jenn holding Ellie’s hand. But Jenn cherished every one, taping them to the nursery walls like masterpieces. The next visit from Jenn’s friends felt less like an introduction and more like a family reunion. Ellie was no longer shy. They arrived in a flurry of perfume, giggles, and rustling shopping bags. “My goodness, look at her now!” cooed Vanessa, the tall brunette who’d changed Ellie’s diaper during the last visit. “She’s really blossomed.” “She’s fully baby now,” Jenn smiled proudly, bouncing Ellie on her lap. “Barely fusses when she wets, loves being spoon-fed, and she’s completely pacified by nursing.” “She’s lucky,” another friend, Ivy, said with a mischievous grin. “Not all littles surrender that easily.” “Oh, she had her moments,” Jenn chuckled, pinching Ellie’s cheek. “But Mommy knows how to handle them, don’t you, sweetheart?” Ellie blushed and nodded, mouth full of mashed peaches. That afternoon, the women took turns caring for her. Ivy changed her diaper while humming a lullaby. Vanessa fed her from a bottle while cradling her in a rocking chair. And when Ellie began to get overstimulated, whimpering and kicking, Jenn pulled her aside for a firm correction. She sat on the nursery glider, pulled Ellie over her lap, and unfastened her diaper. “I think someone’s forgetting who’s in charge,” she murmured, giving her baby girl a quick, warm spanking, just enough to bring the tears. Then, with the same tenderness, she cuddled Ellie to her chest, patting her diapered bottom softly while her friends watched approvingly. Jenn began taking Ellie on more frequent public outings—little excursions designed to build trust and reinforce babyish behavior. The grocery store became a favorite. Ellie was always strapped into the cart’s baby seat, pink frilly dress billowing out, thick diaper peeking under the hem. Jenn would narrate everything to her, treating her like any doting mother would. “Should we get the applesauce with cinnamon, sweetheart?” she’d ask, holding up two jars. “Or the one with pears?” Ellie’s only answer was a gurgle and a giggle behind her pacifier. At the park, Jenn laid a fluffy pink blanket in the grass and let Ellie sit and play with a rattle while she chatted with other moms. More than once, other women commented on how “natural” Jenn looked with her little one. One even asked if she’d consider babysitting. “Oh, I’m not a babysitter,” Jenn said with a secret smile. “She’s mine. Forever.” At night, things grew more intimate. Jenn introduced lullaby nursing, where she would hold Ellie skin-to-skin and feed her while rocking slowly in the nursery’s glider. A pacifier was clipped to Ellie’s romper for after-feeding comfort, and soft classical music played while stars rotated lazily on the ceiling. “You’re not just pretending anymore,” Jenn whispered one night, her hand stroking Ellie’s cheek. “You are my baby girl. You don’t even remember what it felt like to be anything else, do you?” Ellie’s eyes fluttered. She couldn’t speak—not in words. But her thumb found her mouth, and she suckled sleepily as Jenn laid her in the crib and kissed her goodnight. That night, she dreamed of only one thing: her Mommy, rocking her forever, in a nursery that never faded. But the peace didn’t last. Something old stirred inside him. One morning, while Jenn was folding laundry in the other room, he stood up in the playpen—wobbling on unsteady, diaper-thickened legs—and looked at the door. The old voice in his mind whispered: You’re not a baby. You’re not her doll. This isn’t who you are. Driven by a desperate need to reclaim some piece of his manhood, he shuffled to the door, managed to open it, and made it halfway down the hallway before she found him. “Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” Her voice was sharp—not angry, but full of authority. He froze. “Wanna go,” he stammered, but it came out lispy and high-pitched, like a toddler’s whine. “Not Baby.” She walked calmly toward him, knelt down, and looked him straight in the eyes. “No,” she said gently, “you’re my baby. And Mommy’s baby doesn’t run away.” Before he could speak again, she took his hand and led him back to the nursery. He whimpered and tried to pull away—but she was calm, practiced. Once inside, she sat on the rocking chair and pulled him across her lap. “Mommy didn’t want to have to do this,” she said softly, lifting the back of his ruffled diaper, “but little girls who run away get consequences.” The spanking was firm but controlled—each swat echoing in the nursery, sending hot shame surging through him. He cried, not just from the sting, but from the crushing humiliation of it all. When she finished, she kissed his tear-streaked face, held him tight, and whispered, “Shh. It’s okay now. You’re still my baby. You just forgot for a moment.” And in her arms, sniffling into her nightgown, he realized: she wasn’t angry. She wasn’t cruel. She had corrected him. Something in him cracked. From that day forward, the resistance never came back. In fact, he began to lean into the role—slowly at first, then with growing hunger. He fussed until she picked him up. He tugged at her blouse when he was hungry. He giggled when she praised him for filling his diaper like a “good girl.” He even began babbling in baby talk, making her coo and kiss his cheeks with pride. Each new outfit she dressed him in—whether it was a pastel romper, a bonnet and mittens, or a dress with layers of lace and puffed sleeves—brought a twinge of embarrassment… but also a thrill. A warm, helpless flutter in his belly. And when she took him out again—this time to a Mommy & Me playgroup at the park, surrounded by other women and their infants—he didn’t resist being shown off. He clung to her, pacifier bobbing, resting his head against her chest while the other Mommies cooed and whispered. “He’s such a precious little girl,” one said. “She really is perfect,” another smiled. “How long have you had her?” “Oh, just about a week,” Jenn said. “But I think she’s going to be mine forever.” His heart swelled. In her arms, he was forever. Time lost its edges. He stopped thinking in days. Instead, his world became measured by diaper changes, naps, feedings, and the ebb and flow of Mommy’s presence. Sometimes there was sun through the nursery curtains, sometimes the soft hum of lullabies, sometimes the crinkle of his diaper as he crawled from one plush toy to another. But thinking? That became harder. Words slipped away. At first, he could still remember them—his name, maybe, or how to form a sentence. But they floated in and out like dreams upon waking. He’d try to speak, and only babble would come. “Ba-ba. muh. waah.” He flushed with shame at first, but Jenn only smiled warmly, kissed his forehead, and cooed, “That’s okay, baby girl. You don’t need big words anymore. Just let Mommy do the thinking.” And he did. He used to stand—wobble a bit, hold onto the edge of the crib—but even that faded. Now, his world was experienced on all fours. Crawling felt right. When he tried to stand, his knees buckled. He stopped trying. Every movement became slower, more instinctive. He’d crawl across the nursery floor, distracted mid-journey by the jingling of a rattle or the soft texture of a stuffed bunny. He’d flop onto his padded bottom with a happy babble, the thick crinkle of his diaper wrapping him in sound and safety. His pacifier was always close. He no longer just used it—he needed it. Without it, he fussed and drooled and rubbed his eyes until Jenn gently popped it back in. The rhythmic sucking calmed his mind like a blanket of fog. He forgot what he had been trying to do. He didn’t care. He was safe. He was hers. What little remained of his adult thoughts came in soft fragments. A fleeting memory of jeans. A name whispered in a dream. A vague embarrassment when Mommy’s friends changed his diaper together and giggled at how "full" he was. But even those moments passed like clouds. His emotions became simpler, rawer. Hunger made him cry. Fullness made him sleepy. Love came as the warmth of her arms. Shame as the cold tickle of a messy diaper. Excitement as the jingle of the toy keys she’d dangle over his crib. He lived moment to moment, need to need. And in that space, something beautiful bloomed. When she cradled him to her chest, he no longer felt like a grown man humiliated—he felt like her baby. When she bounced him gently on her knee and praised him for a “big baby burpy,” he gurgled and giggled, proud of himself. He’d cling to her blouse, cheek pressed to her breast, sighing with contentment as he nursed. There was no fear. No decisions. No loneliness. Just Mommy. The weeks passed like petals falling gently from a blossom. Each day, Ellie’s world grew smaller, softer, and sweeter—until all she knew was Mommy’s voice, warm bottles, powder-scented diapers, and the slow rhythm of being rocked to sleep. Her old life had faded into something distant and unreal, like a dream half-remembered. What remained was pure comfort, pure surrender. And then one morning, Jenn leaned over the crib with a twinkle in her eye and whispered, “Guess what, baby girl? Today is your first birthday.” Ellie blinked up at her with wide, innocent eyes, hugging her stuffed lamb. Jenn giggled. “Yes, sweetheart. One whole year of being Mommy’s baby. We’re going to have such a special day.” The morning of her baby girl’s birthday was soft and golden, sunlight slipping through the frilly curtains of the nursery. Jenn entered quietly, humming as she crossed to the crib. Inside, he was already stirring—diapered, pacified, arms splayed, with one thumb curled into his fist. “Good morning, birthday baby,” she whispered. He blinked up at her, then babbled around his pacifier. “Mmm-mmm” She pulled back the covers, scooped him up with practiced ease, and cradled him against her hip. “Today’s your big day, sweet girl. Mommy’s going to spoil you so much.” The day began with a special bath. Lavender-scented bubbles and a soft pink sponge. Jenn washed her baby girl gently, cooing and humming, then wrapped her in a warm hooded towel shaped like a bunny. Back in the nursery, Jenn laid Ellie on the changing table and powdered her thoroughly. Today’s diaper was extra thick—decorated with cupcakes and little hearts—and taped on snugly. After nursing and a diaper change with extra powder and lotion “just to feel pretty,” she dressed him in something special: a white satin dress puffed with layers of pink tulle, complete with heart-shaped buttons, puff sleeves, and a matching bonnet. Ribbons laced through the back. The final touch was a diaper cover. Lace-trimmed, frilly, and utterly girlish. Jenn held her up to the mirror. “There she is—my birthday baby,” she said proudly. “The prettiest little girl in the whole world.” He didn’t fight it. He cooed as she clipped a pacifier to his dress with a string of pink beads and kissed his forehead. The living room had been transformed: pink and lavender streamers, balloons with “1st Birthday Princess” printed in sparkly letters, and a cake shaped like a stuffed unicorn. Her friends arrived one by one, cooing as they entered, bearing presents wrapped in pastel paper—booties, onesies, plushies, rattles, bibs that read “Mommy’s Little Angel.” A high chair sat at the head of the table, decked in ruffles and ribbons, with a matching party hat waiting for the guest of honor. Jenn’s friends began arriving one by one, each bringing a gift wrapped in nursery print paper—rattles, dresses, plushies, bottles, and pacifiers. They all took turns greeting Ellie with high-pitched squeals and exaggerated coos. “Oh my goodness, look at her!” “She’s gotten so big—but still such a baby!” “Is she crawling yet in those thick diapies?” “Oh my goodness, she’s just perfect,” one woman said, kneeling to squish his diaper and tickle his feet. “You’ve done so well, Jenn.” “I know,” Jenn said proudly, lifting him up so everyone could see his flushed, drooling smile. “She’s exactly who she’s meant to be.” They played baby party games—“Pass the Pacifier,” “Guess the Diaper Cream,” and even a photo session where Jenn laid him across a pink blanket surrounded by rose petals and glitter letters spelling ONE. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t walk—just clapped, giggled, and kicked while all eyes adored him. Ellie sat in her high chair, hands resting on the tray, cheeks flushed beneath the party hat. Jenn served her a slice of cake—but instead of letting her use utensils, she encouraged her to use her hands, giggling as Ellie smeared frosting on her face. “Messy girl!” Jenn laughed, wiping her face with a soft bib. “That’s what first birthdays are for.” After cake, came the presents—each one unwrapped for her by Jenn as Ellie bounced on her lap. There were plushies shaped like kittens, musical toys, embroidered onesies that said Mommy’s Angel, and even a custom pacifier with her name etched in glittery letters. “You’re spoiled, baby girl,” Jenn whispered, kissing her forehead. That night, after the guests had gone, Jenn sat in the rocker with her baby in her arms, nursing her quietly in the golden twilight. The soft music box tinkling nearby. He was dressed in a footed sleeper, his thumb resting lazily in his mouth. His eyes were half-closed, hazy with milk and birthday sugar, body slack and sleepy in her arms. “Today wasn’t just your birthday,” she whispered. “It was your rebirth. From now on, there’s no in-between. No little traces of the big you left. Just my baby girl, through and through.” Ellie’s eyes blinked slowly as she suckled. She didn’t feel fear—only peace. Deep, complete peace. After feeding, Jenn placed her in a new crib—larger, sturdier, and with her name carved into the footboard. “You’ll be in this crib for a long time, my love,” she said, tucking her in with a new plushie shaped like a butterfly. “Mommy will always be right here.” The world outside changed with seasons. But inside Jenn’s home, time moved differently. For Ellie, every day began the same way: soft lullabies drifting through the nursery, the scent of warm milk, and Mommy’s hands lifting her from a crib she no longer ever left on her own. Two years had passed since that first magical transformation, and not once had Ellie dressed herself, used a toilet, or spoken a full sentence without permission. She was no longer “learning” to be a baby girl. She was one. By now, Ellie had her own rhythm—a perfectly structured day designed by Jenn, who had left behind her old career to become a full-time Mommy. She had proudly transformed her life just as she’d transformed her baby girl’s. Mornings began with songs, snuggles, and diaper changes. Ellie had become fully used to wetting without thinking, trusting that Mommy would take care of it. Her body no longer hesitated—it simply obeyed. “I think someone’s soaked,” Jenn would murmur lovingly, checking the squishy front of Ellie’s nighttime diaper. “Let’s get that princess bottom nice and clean.” After changing, it was time for playroom hours. A space filled with oversized stuffed animals, sensory toys, soft pastel mats, and even a big ball pit just for Ellie and her “nursery siblings”. Other littles who came over for daytime care. Sometimes Jenn would dress her in adorable rompers with embroidered animals or frilly dresses with matching bloomers. Other times, nothing but a t-shirt and a diaper that crinkled with every crawl. Ellie had long since lost her adult motor skills. Her handwriting was now illegible, her walk awkward and unbalanced without Mommy’s hand. She babbled more than spoke, relying on gestures, giggles, and simple baby words. And Jenn? She praised every sound. “That’s right, baby. Tell Mommy all about it. You’re so clever with your little babbles.” Over the months, a tight-knit community of caregivers and littles blossomed around them. Ellie wasn’t alone—far from it. There were regular nursery playdates, often hosted in Jenn’s backyard, complete with splash pads, plushies, and picnic blankets. Her closest friend was Daisy, a curly-haired baby girl with a mischievous grin and a tendency to throw her bottle when fussy. Their Mommies often coordinated outfits: matching bonnets, twin dresses, and monogrammed bibs. They would babble together in the playpen, pass pacifiers back and forth, or cuddle side by side during nap time. Once, Daisy swatted Ellie with a plush bunny. Both girls were promptly put over their Mommies’ laps and given firm, diapered spankings before being laid down with pacifiers and tears. Afterward, Jenn whispered, “Even the best girls need reminders, sweetheart. And Mommy will always give them.” Ellie never tested her again. What had once been taboo was now routine. Jenn took Ellie everywhere—dressed in full baby attire. Some days it was the farmer’s market, where Ellie sat in the stroller with a sippy cup and a floppy sunhat. Other days it was baby yoga classes, where Mommies gently moved their littles through soft stretches. Even skeptical strangers had come to accept the sight of the sweet, diapered girl clinging to her Mommy’s neck. Jenn never flinched from stares—she beamed with pride. “This is my baby,” she’d say to anyone who asked. “She’s exactly where she belongs.” And Ellie would beam right back behind her pacifier, not with shame, but with joy. Because she knew it was true. By the time the sun sank behind the trees, Ellie was back in her nursery. Bathed, powdered, changed, and dressed in one of her many bedtime onesies. Some had rainbows. Others had unicorns. A few were custom-made with messages like Mommy’s Baby Girl Forever or Too Little to Say No. Jenn would nurse her, then rock her slowly in the glider while reading picture books or telling stories of enchanted lands full of other babies and their loving caretakers. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” Jenn whispered one night, brushing a curl from Ellie’s forehead. “And I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life.” Ellie couldn’t reply—not in words. But her hand reached up, grasping Jenn’s finger. And that was enough. Because even though the world outside kept spinning—inside their perfect little nursery, one truth would never change: Ellie was, is, and always would be Mommy’s baby girl. Jenn had given her something priceless: a new life, one where she was safe, cherished, and truly herself. She stroked his hair, watching him—not just with affection, but with awe. “You’re mine,” she whispered. “You were always meant to be mine.” He wasn’t a man in regression. He was a baby girl in truth. No trace of ego. No need for permission. Just soft babbles, clumsy crawling, wide trusting eyes, and the utter dependency Jenn had craved in her deepest fantasies. And she had created it. Patiently, gently, with love. She sometimes imagined what he’d say if he could form real words again. Would he thank her? Would he weep with gratitude? But even those thoughts felt unnecessary. She didn’t need to hear it. She could feel it in the way he nestled against her when afraid. In how his breathing slowed when she nursed him. In the limp surrender of his body after a bath, wrapped in a towel with “Mommy’s Baby Girl” stitched across the hood. He needed her. And that need made her heart swell with a possessive, maternal pride. He wasn’t a burden. He wasn’t a project. He was her baby girl. Her dream made real.

Hey everyone! So this is my first story. I am actually a barely popular ABDL artist and I post most of my art content here: Hottogurugan (Comms Open) (@hottogurugan) / Twitter I usually do normal ABDL art, and I've only recently gotten anywhere close to good, and I rarely post new stuff but I'm working on getting more output. I am also collabing on an abdl game with another artist. But that's not why I'm here. Though I mainly draw diaper girls, I have a huge soft spot for Md/Lb and femdom dynamics involving diapers. Women putting boys in their pampered place etc. etc. I just have never had an idea that struck me as something I wanted to draw. So as a fun experiment, and after brainstorming with some fellow ABDL/MDLB writers on tumblr, I decided to write down a story idea that has been sifting around in my head for at least two years or so. The idea is not entirely original. There is a CYOA on Writing.com called 'The Colony'. The premise was that a Communist Matriarchy had been established on some space station. The women ruled the station and kept all men in diapers. No man was allowed to be potty trained and all had to obey female authority. One of the story avenues let you be a young man who was headed off to college in this strange matriarchal society. Needless to say, I fell in love with the premise, and I even tried to contribute to it myself. However, I did not like how the collaborative CYOA provided zero narrative control to any individual author. I was fascinated with exploring the idea of this society, and following a young man as he broke out from his parents only to eventually find himself ensnared in the matriarchy's web and succumbing to the authority of a new 'mommy'. Some of the writing was of....... subpar quality. Some of the story routes had entries that seemed like purposeful derailments by trolls, one literally ends with an entry that simply reads, "??????????". Can't exactly go from there without disrupting the flow. The story is sporadically updated, but individual authors never seem to contribute more than once. I have tried to get in touch with the original author, but after two attempts at contact, and four years of no reply, I assume he has abandoned his account and the story itself. As such, I have decided that I would take the premise and write my own story based on it. In order to avoid plagiarism, I am completely changing the names of characters, places, and even making some of the few plot points presented in the original CYOA differently. I am only taking the premise, and my own rendition of the first part of one of the story avenues presented originally, beyond that, this is my own work. I simply wanted a creative avenue that was under my control in which I could explore the world set by such a premise, the people who live in it, and the ideology of the ruling matriarchy. I hope you all can enjoy my take on this premise, and I hope you all come along and follow me for what may be the first of possibly many stories. Disclaimer: The author of this work does not follow or endorse any of the ideologies described in this work of fiction. All mentions or opinions expressed in this work do not reflect the authors own opinions. The opinions of characters in the work do not reflect the author's, and only serve as vehicles to further the plot or help in characterization of the characters involved. This is erotic fiction first and foremost, none of the ideas represented are meant to be taken seriously or advocated for in the real world. Our story follows Raymond, a young man who finds himself attending university in a strange society where matriarchy is the ruling ideology. In this society, men are kept as partially infantilized adults with the legal rights of toddlers as they are cared for and commanded by an all-female elite. Raymond must navigate his way through this strange culture until he completes his pilots' certification, and he is determined to escape the society with his dignity and continence intact before the female web of the matriarchy fully ensnares him? Things become even more complicated when he meets the love of his life in this strange place. Will our hero escape or be made into a loyal pamper-packer at the behest of female authority? A Radical Equality Chapter 1: Arrival “I am not wearing that!” “You have no choice, it’s the law.” In the room stood three figures. Two women and one man. The man, an average student in his mid-20s, sat on a medical table in a brightly lit backroom resembling an examination room. A traveling case and a backpack lay at his feet. With his arms crossed, he glared defiantly at the two women who stood just barely above him. The two women were of different professions, both at least a decade older than the man. One was dressed as an office professional, her blouse had an emblem stitched to her left breast, with the word “IMMIGRATION AND CUSTOMS” embroidered just above. On the right breast, an ID card hung from a clip in her breast pocket. The other woman was a law officer, her faded navy-blue uniform barely disguised the silhouette of a Kevlar vest. The tools of her trade were clasped onto her duty belt. Her left boot tap-tapping in an annoyed cadence. Even those both women were physically smaller and less intimidating than the man, they stood as if they were the authorities. They gave off the impression of two stern schoolteachers trying to subdue an unruly toddler. In their minds, that was exactly what they were doing. “Listen, you can either be mature and wear the diaper or we can arrest you and have you deported.” Said the immigration woman. “Oh, and if you do decide on arrest, you’ll still get diapered. Prisoners don’t have potty privileges.” “But that’s ridiculous! I was never told I’d need to wear…. one of those.” The man replied. “The diapers? You said you were here on a student visa, right? Did you not read the rules required of males living on this planet?” In truth, the man had read the rule sheet, but he thought it was a joke. He also didn't even bother to do much research on where he was headed, otherwise, he would have known of the strange rules he would be subjected to, and the puffy garments that would replace his normal boxers. “I…. I read the rules.” He said, “I just thought it was a joke? Like, you can’t seriously require all men to wear those things, right?” “Diapers, and we do. It's one of the foundational pillars that our society rests on, and I am simply asking you to respect it, young sir." “Stop talking to me like I’m a kid!” “Stop acting like one then!” “I’m 21…” "That doesn't mean anything. Here, you're legally a child still. And with that attitude, you might as well be one!” The room fell to silence for a moment. She was right. He knew she was. He felt childish, being told by two authoritative women that he needed to put on a diaper. His cheeks were flushed red from the emotions he was feeling. Anger and embarrassment. Angry that he was so stupid to not take the pamphlet seriously and embarrassed at having to go through the ordeal. He found himself in this situation because he had no other choice. No other university accepted his application. He was intelligent, but a terrible student, and as such his grades were lackluster. He originally tried to make it as a dockworker on Earth's Intergalactic Trade Station, but after two years of that, he decided it wasn't the type of career he wanted. But being exposed to the spacecraft he unloaded cargo from, he got the idea that maybe being a space pilot might be a fun job to take. So, he decided to try his hand at one of the many credentialing institutions in Human space. The issue was, that only a select handful of institutions offered classes. Spacecraft piloting was necessary and high-in-demand profession, but companies were always particular about who could become a pilot, and a certification in a specific space quadrant meant where you got certified is where you would work. But none of the larger and well-known institutions would take him in on account of his lazy performance in high school. Until one day when he received a strange email from a university, he had never heard about. He didn’t remember much of the email, nor did he even try to pay much attention when he was reading it. All he remembered was something about “communist matriarchy”, “a particular way of life, and "revolutionary culture'. But he mostly paid attention to the "reduced board and tuition for off-planet male students" and the “Spacecraft license classes offered”. That’s what got him here, a college degree and at a cheaper cost somewhere away from his parents? He couldn’t pass it up. If only he had known, he might have held out for somewhere else before submitting his application. “I am going to ask you one more time.” Chimed in the office lady, breaking the silence. “Will you submit to a diapering, or will you continue to be fussy and require us to send you home?” The woman crossed her arms and looked at him with a stern expression, awaiting an answer. The policewoman’s tap-tapping increased in rhythm. The young man paused for a second, he wanted to say ‘just send me home! I’m going back to Earth.’ But his subconscious stopped him, he knew deep down that if he went back, he might not get another chance to get a certificate and license. Maybe, just maybe, he could cram courses as much as he could and get out as soon as possible. Maybe wearing diapers for a year or two wouldn't be so bad, was it? He didn't necessarily have to use said diapers, and this station was built from a prefab, so there had to be a men's room somewhere hidden away he could use. This was his chance, he had to take it. He took a deep breath and let his arms fall to his side. “Alright, I’ll wear the diaper.” He said, “I guess when in Rome.” The office woman’s expression changed from stern disapproval to a pleased smile. She walked over to a cabinet and pulled out some items before returning to the medical bench. “I’m glad to hear that you’re big enough to take the easy way, I was worried Miss Roland here was going to have to cuff you.” “I would prefer not to, makes my job easier when they behave.” Said the policewoman. "Oh, I bet it does. Alright, young man lay down on the bench and I'll get you changed." “Whoa, hold on. I can change myself just fine!” The stern and disappointed expression returned to the woman’s face. "I'm sorry, but in addition to having to wear diapers, you are also not allowed to change them yourself. Lay down on the medical bench and I’ll get you into your diaper.” “No way lady! That’s weird! I can put it on myself.” “Officer Roland please restrain him.” The man found himself being pushed down by the officer with more force than she had been able to use. She must be on enhancers. "What the- “he retorted as he fell back on the bench. Cop lady quickly restrained his left hand with a medical cuff, and the office woman quickly went around the other side and cuffed his right. They were quick from lots of practice with this exact scenario. With only his legs free, the young man began to squirm and lightly kick them about. “Hey, get me out of this! You can’t- “ “If you don’t stop moving your legs, we will have to restrain those too. Calm down and just let me change you!” “No! Let me out you bitch!” he cried back. “Suit yourself.” Immediately the women set about restraining his legs. The police officer had no issues restraining his leg, but the immigration lady needed help. But after a short struggle, his legs were restrained as well. He was about to let out another expletive but was interrupted by a soft, rubbery object being forcefully inserted into his mouth. “Spit that out and I’ll have to tie that around your head.” He wanted to spit it out but decided against further restraint. It was also somewhat soothing to have in. What was it exactly? The office woman began to make her way back to the cabinet while Officer Roland stared over the young man like a hawk. The Office lady returns with a pair of razor-scissors. “I’m sorry but since we had to restrain your legs, the only way to get your pants off for a diaper change is by cutting them up.” She then gave a quick snip-snip with the scissors. The young man didn’t want his pants cut up, but this was the fate he chose. He squirmed up until the point of the woman removing his belt and readying the scissors. He knew better than to be unsteady around those things. It took several cuts to get both sides of his pants undone. No longer held together with thread, the woman slid the pants out from underneath him, leaving him mostly exposed except for his underwear. The woman held up the scissors with a disgusted face after seeing his gray boxers. As if she were offended by being subjected to seeing them. She positioned the scissors to begin cutting the undergarment. “Now hold still, otherwise there will be a bad accident.” Saying that, she began to cut the boxers, both ends now lie open. She removes the underwear from underneath the young man, whose face goes beet red. Holding the underwear out, somewhat in disgust and curiosity. “Why do you off-world boys even wear these? They don’t offer any protection and they don’t look comfortable. If I left my boys in these, they’d make a mess all over my carpet.” She tosses the cut-up garment into a trash bin. “You won’t need those anymore mister.” She turns around to face her charge, with a wide grin on her face. “Are you ready for your first diaper mister grumpypants?” The tone of her voice and mood noticeably changed, as if a switch had been flipped in her hand. Or maybe to try and signal to him that he is now in her good graces. She wanted him in those diapers, not his big boy undies. She pulled out a bottle with lotion inside and squirted it onto her hands before rubbing them together. She went for his crotch, and he began to squirm in reaction to this strange lady rubbing his groin. “Stop squirming little guy, it’ll go faster if you stay still.” The woman was surprisingly professional about rubbing lotion on all of a man’s junk. The young man on the other hand was flustered as one could be. This was the first time a woman had ever given him the attention of this sort, and it was while he was restrained and trying to put him in a diaper. By the end of the lotion rubbing, he was a blushing, embarrassed mess and could barely come up with a thought. The woman retracted her hands and turned around to grab something else. Turning back to face the man she holds up a thick white object, which the man immediately recognized to be an unfolded diaper. The woman’s smile beamed at him, it was a happy smile, but he still found himself intimidated. “Time for your first diapering little boy!” Beamed the woman before unfolding the diaper. The unfolded diaper surprised the boy in just how large it was, it had to be as long as the woman’s torso, and it couldn’t have been less than half a foot wide in the middle. She slid the enormous underwear beneath him and adjusted its position under him. She pulled the front of the diaper over his crotch. “Shh, such a good boy for keeping still. I’m proud of you.” The woman cooed at him as if he were a toddler while she pulled the diaper's wings over the front. The tapes made a distinctive sound as they were secured onto the landing strip. The woman pulled back after the diaper was fastened onto the man. “All done! Good job for calming down, I bet you feel much happier now that you’re properly padded up, huh?” Cooed the woman, the cop on the other side of the bench gave a quick chuckle at the sight. The young man just sat in silence, too flustered from the events to react to anything. To him, the diaper felt bulky and soft, if tightly secured. It was surprisingly comfortable for what it was, felt almost like a pillow between his thighs. Both women began undoing his restraints, once his arms and legs were free the office woman helped him sit up on the bench and the police lady sat next to him. "Now I know you must be flustered by what occurred and feel like you've been punished enough. But your behavior from earlier is simply unacceptable. Around here you are to respect and obey female authorities, your little outburst is simply something you'll need to learn to control. I understand this is your first time on our planet, but you simply must learn to follow our rules if you wish to stay here. As such, to help you learn, Officer Roland here will administer a light spanking to you.” Her words were practiced and professional, she does this routinely. The young man was taken aback by her threat of a spanking. But before he could reply Officer Roland grabbed his hands and forced him over her lap. His thickly padded behind was now exposed prominently to the air. He popped the pacifier out of his mouth and yelled. “Let go of me!” He now couldn’t see the woman who had been administering his defeat for the past hour, but he could hear her tone change in her voice. “Sigh You just don’t learn to stay quiet, do you? Officer, how many spankings do you think are in order?" “I’d say at least 20 ma’am.” “Make it 30.” The young man began squirming and yelling in protest. 'This is an injustice!' he thought to himself. And he continued to writhe about. He felt another pacifier being inserted into his mouth and a strap tightening around his head. He could no longer vocalize his distaste for the actions being done to him. He feels a hand grab his chin and rotate his head. The office woman rotated his head, so their eyes meet. “Welcome to Estrea little boy.”

Would anyone be up for doing an RP about being a male pokemon or who's treated like a princess by my OC ry if interested pm me or type on here note this is the outfit your character would where after becoming my OCS padded princess

So I am a coder, and I created a fully interactive Diaper Dependency Tracker, that has stickers, milestones, bedwetting tracker, a wet/dry log, a Foley catheter use log, and a daily checklist. All you gotta do is copy/paste the html code into the "Webcode" app that's available in the Google Play Store, then hit the play button at the top! I hope you all enjoy what I've created🙂🍼👶 <!DOCTYPE html> <html lang="en"> <head> <meta charset="UTF-8" /> <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1.0" /> <title>Diaper Dependence Tracker</title> <style> body { font-family: 'Comic Sans MS', cursive, sans-serif; background-color: #fff0f5; color: #333; text-align: center; } h1 { color: #ff69b4; font-size: 2.5em; } .section { border: 3px dashed #ffb6c1; padding: 15px; margin: 20px; border-radius: 25px; background-color: #ffe4e1; } button { font-size: 1.2em; padding: 10px 20px; margin: 5px; border-radius: 15px; border: none; background-color: #ff69b4; color: white; cursor: pointer; } .milestone, .sticker, .bedwetting-log { margin-top: 10px; } .sticker img { width: 50px; } </style> </head> <body> <h1>Diaper Dependence Tracker</h1> <div class="section"> <h2>Permanence Meter</h2> <progress id="permanence" value="0" max="100"></progress> <p id="permanenceText">0% Diaper Dependent</p> </div> <div class="section"> <h2>Wet or Dry?</h2> <button onclick="markWet()">Wet</button> <button onclick="markDry()">Dry</button> <p id="wetDryLog"></p> </div> <div class="section"> <h2>Foley Catheter Tracker</h2> <button onclick="updateFoleyDays()">Add Foley Day</button> <p id="foleyDays">Foley Catheter Days: 0</p> </div> <div class="section"> <h2>Daily Checklist</h2> <label><input type="checkbox" onchange="checklistUpdated()"> Drank extra water</label><br /> <label><input type="checkbox" onchange="checklistUpdated()"> Stayed diapered all day</label><br /> <label><input type="checkbox" onchange="checklistUpdated()"> Used baby talk or roleplay</label><br /> <label><input type="checkbox" onchange="checklistUpdated()"> Did bladder relaxation drills</label> <div class="sticker"> <p>Stickers earned: <span id="stickerCount">0</span></p> <div id="stickerDisplay"></div> </div> </div> <div class="section"> <h2>Bedwetting Tracker</h2> <button onclick="logBedwetting(true)">Woke Up Wet</button> <button onclick="logBedwetting(false)">Woke Up Dry</button> <ul id="bedwettingLog" class="bedwetting-log"></ul> </div> <script> let permanence = 0; let foleyDays = 0; let stickerCount = 0; function playSound(path) { new Audio(path).play(); } function markWet() { document.getElementById('wetDryLog').innerText = 'Marked as Wet'; playSound('https://www.myinstants.com/media/sounds/anime-wow-sound-effect.mp3'); new Audio('https://api.streamelements.com/kappa/v2/speech?voice=Brian&text=Good%20job%2C%20baby!').play(); addSticker(); increasePermanence(1); } function markDry() { document.getElementById('wetDryLog').innerText = 'Marked as Dry'; new Audio('https://api.streamelements.com/kappa/v2/speech?voice=Brian&text=Bad%20baby!').play(); } function updateFoleyDays() { foleyDays++; document.getElementById('foleyDays').innerText = `Foley Catheter Days: ${foleyDays}`; increasePermanence(2); } function checklistUpdated() { stickerCount++; document.getElementById('stickerCount').innerText = stickerCount; addSticker(); new Audio('https://api.streamelements.com/kappa/v2/speech?voice=Brian&text=Good%20job%2C%20baby!').play(); increasePermanence(1); } function addSticker() { const img = document.createElement('img'); img.src = 'https://i.imgur.com/UdLJ6GZ.png'; document.getElementById('stickerDisplay').appendChild(img); } function increasePermanence(amount) { permanence = Math.min(permanence + amount, 100); document.getElementById('permanence').value = permanence; document.getElementById('permanenceText').innerText = `${permanence}% Diaper Dependent`; } function logBedwetting(wet) { const entry = document.createElement('li'); const date = new Date().toLocaleDateString(); entry.innerText = `${date}: Woke Up ${wet ? 'Wet' : 'Dry'}`; document.getElementById('bedwettingLog').appendChild(entry); if (wet) { new Audio('https://api.streamelements.com/kappa/v2/speech?voice=Brian&text=Good%20job%2C%20baby!').play(); addSticker(); increasePermanence(1); } else { new Audio('https://api.streamelements.com/kappa/v2/speech?voice=Brian&text=Bad%20baby!').play(); } } </script> </body> </html>