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An new story that popped into my head recently that I had to let out. Not sure how long it will be per se and I'll add more tags as needed. Hope you enjoy! /Haku --- Chapter 1 Lydia shuffled up to the cozy cottage that stood peacefully in a serene glade in the otherwise unwelcoming, dark forest. Honestly, who would even choose to live here in the middle of nowhere? she thought to herself, much less one that had been lauded as one of the greatest witches in coven history. Some would definitely call the glade’s flowery facade quaint and calming, but that really only meant it was lonesome and boring. Heck, even Lydia’s old sCryphone couldn’t pick up any nearby leylines that connected covens all over the world, so it had all the same uses as a brick currently. Not that it saw that much use anyway. She had more important things than doomscrolling on Hextagram like her old schoolmates from her academy days. Maybe I could have used it as a bludgeoning tool on that last orc that accosted me on my way here, she mused as she collected her breath. The journey here had drained her both physically and mentally. The magic crystal in her broom was almost depleted as well. She made a note to charge it later when she had the chance. If she was lucky, maybe the ancient crone living here carried a magic-charger? Lydia snorted. Unlikely. The ‘All-Mother of Ancient Magic’ or just ‘All-Mother’ probably wasn’t one to dabble in modern magitech. Even her real name was a mystery, and only her moniker had been passed down through the ages, but according to Lydia’s old mentor, she was definitely the real deal. Of course, Agnes the Augur was no slouch either, and Lydia had understood why after five years of apprenticeship, having different training regiments and spell techniques beaten into her and her cocksure attitude beaten out of her. Well…partly, at least. Lydia winced a bit as she adjusted her posture, rubbing a shallow wound. That last orc had almost gotten the best of her. She was powerful, a top-three student back at the witch academy in fact, and more than enough to dispatch packs of worgs and a wyvern or two thinking she was an easy meal. Orcs were crafty however, always lying in wait to try and catch you off guard, and there had been a lot of them on the way here. She shook her head and smirked as if she thought of something funny. Doesn't matter now, I have an old crone to convince. I can kiss my booboos later. Agnes had gone to quite the great lengths to keep any information pertaining to the All-Mother secret, annoyingly so even. Normally, an apprenticeship under Agnes the Augur would have easily sufficed in order to get approved for a loan to open your own Atelier in any prominent town. But Lydia was a woman of ambition, and her thirst for knowledge propelled her forward. She could never settle being a common town witch, selling lotions and potions galore. And because of her ambition, how could Agnes expect for the All-Mother to accept her, if Lydia knew nothing of how the ancient crone ticked? But her old mentor had been very strict in that regard, only offering vague answers and roundabout solutions. Lydia sighed, adjusting her black hat, brushing away a thick, blond curl of hair that stuck to her mouth. She straightened her dark robes and wiped the sweat from her face. It wouldn’t do to look unpresentable before asking to become All-Mother’s new apprentice. When she was satisfied with her appearance, she knocked two times on the cottage door and waited. And waited. Huh? Is she not home? She knocked again and waited. Nothing. Lydia started to panic. Why wasn’t she let in? Sure, she didn’t expect the All-Mother to open the door by hand, but she could at least offer up a simple unlocking spell? Should she try to unlock it herself? Would that be rude? Wait, was this part of a test? Had she been deemed unworthy already? Her thoughts spiraled a million miles a second until she remembered her mentor’s last words before departure. “If the All-Mother approves of you, her abode will make itself known.” She took a few deep breaths to calm down. That had sounded quite strange, but not as much as when Agnes enveloped her in a hug before she could fly off on her broom. “Good luck, apprentice. You’ll need it.” Exactly what kind of being was the All-Mother really to warrant such caution and unsolicited affection from her otherwise strict mentor? Also, had she shivered back then? Nothing ever fazed Agnes The Augur, yet that only lit a fire in Lydia’s eyes. She was going to learn everything she could from this ancient crone, or die trying. Lydia came crashing back to reality. She squared her shoulder, steeling herself before grabbing the iron handle of the door, tugging at it with a modicum of strength. It swung easily towards her, despite the thickness of the wood, barely making a sound. Hmm… Lydia tried peering inside, but the interior appeared almost fuzzy and unfocused, like looking through a distorted lens. Displacement magic? Interesting… She summoned up enough courage and traversed the magic barrier obscuring the room beyond the door, immediately feeling a shiver down her spine wash over her. Lydia opened her eyes she unwillingly had closed, a rookie mistake and in normal circumstances, she’d chide herself, but her astonishment as she opened her eyes made her wave that notion off quickly. The interior of the cottage was much, much larger than what could ever be observed from the outside. Dimensional magic too? This just keeps getting better and better! Few witches could boast mastery of spatial magic, enough to enchant a bag or maybe a chest or two, but this…this was something else. Lydia felt positively giddy at the prospect. She carefully looked around, searching for any signs of life. No one in sight, not even a familiar or two. Lydia cleared her throat, her voice slightly raspy being unused for a couple of days. “Hello? Esteemed All-Mother? My name is Lydia Evans, mentored under Agnes the Augur, and I’ve come to seek apprenticeship.” As a witch, it was a bit of a faux pas to state your full name, but such things certainly held no meaning to one of the greatest witches of all time, Lydia believed. No answer. Curious…, Lydia thought as she gazed over the interior. Was this part of a test, perhaps? Did she have to find the old crone herself, like a veritable game of Hide n’ Seek? She abandoned that thought, instead she squinted her eyes at how large everything inside appeared to be. Where she had imagined finding a wrinkled crone living in a cramped space, she instead saw furniture large enough to accommodate fully grown orcs, maybe even an ogrillon. How tall is this woman? Well, at least Lydia wouldn’t have to worry about accommodations if the All-Mother accepted her apprenticeship. Another glance. The kitchen appeared massive with chairs that needed large cushions should she ever wish to eat by the table, and not on the floor, and the cupboards were so high up, she’d need to levitate to reach them. That’s a bit annoying…Lydia considered, but her thoughts were interrupted by a clicking sound. Spinning around, another door further in the back seemed to be slightly ajar. “Venerable All-Mother?” she tried again, striding past the kitchen and towards the dimly lit room. Her bedroom quarters, perhaps? “I deeply apologize if you were resting, yet I have travelled far to meet with you, and would ask for your gracious respite?” No answer again. Huffing silently, Lydia impatiently pushed on the door and stepped inside. The room was odd, to say the least. It smelled faintly sweet with a familiarity that Lydia couldn’t quite place, and other fields of displacement loomed over several large objects within the room, hiding their true appearances. Yet two items remained clear which immediately caught Lydia’s eyes. A curious cube rested upon a padlocked, wooden box which both bore similar carvings to one another. Stepping closer, Lydia let out another surprised gasp, realizing them to carry great arcane potential. She hurried over, decorum all but forgotten and inspected the cube further. Naturally, she wouldn’t touch it directly before analyzing it. She wasn’t some two-bit witch fresh in her first year of the academy after all. Instead, she muttered the incantation for an advanced identifying spell, her previous fatigue lost to the greed for knowledge, and investigated the mysterious cube. Hmm, no traces of ‘Malice’...and no compelling curses either, she thought. But I can’t ascertain its true purpose…yet that is par for the course with powerful artefacts! “Fascinating!” she exclaimed. The cube was comprised of intricate arcane matrices that weaved together into a complex puzzle like Lydia had never seen before. Unable to contain her excitement, she started prodding further, grabbing it by hand and pouring strands of mana into it. Oh, yes…one channels raw magic into here through a conduit…hmm it splits off here in different directions, okay…I can’t be too forceful, or it could overheat the circuits inside, but too little and the mana will simply dissipate before they reached the core. Wow, alright easy does it then… Her hunger for knowledge had overridden her sense of caution as she channeled magic in delicate ways she hadn’t even experienced in her last exam at the academy. The faux artefacts were nothing in comparison to this marvelous piece of arcane wonderment. A lingering thought entered Lydia’s mind. This is it! This must certainly be a test from the All-Mother! Solving this would surely prove her worthy of being her apprentice, why else the secrecy? Of course the greatest witch of all time wouldn’t bother if Lydia couldn’t complete it? What if this is merely the beginning? What other marvels did the All-Mother have in store for her if this was merely the first test? It accelerated her efforts, it had definitely been the right move to come here. She steadied her breathing, focusing only on solving the cube. Unbeknownst to Lydia, in her focused state, a warm feeling started emanating in her stomach. It branched outwards to the very top of her head, down to her lower extremities, yet it did not feel harmful in any way, so neither did the young witch react badly to it whatsoever. After a grueling ten minutes of focus with sweat pouring down her face, she finally heard a satisfying, mechanical noise from the cube as it started to unravel from the top. Lydia, in a possibly overexhausted state powered merely by adrenaline, quivered in anticipation. She had done it! She solved the cube! Now, she would certainly become—! Was that a ballerina emerging from the top? Lydia stared in disbelief at the intricate doll dressed in a pink tutu rise up from the cube, spinning into place slowly as the room filled with a childish, yet soothing melody. Her eyes locked frozen at the display until the chiming tune wrapped up and the figure slowly retracted back into the cube again. A moment of silence washed over the young woman as she held the cube still in her hands, until gingerly setting it down upon the wooden box again. Heh…well that nice, she thought to herself, ready to pass out from mental exhaustion. Never could she have imagined that such a complex magic item could lead to such a simplistic result. It was enough to give oneself some quiet, philosophical reflection about how its the pursuit of knowledge itself that matters. After all it’s about the journey—! “Not!” Lydia yelled, exasperated, her clawed fingers stretched up towards the ceiling. “Like what in Cyric’s Great Cyst was that about!” “Oh?” came a mysterious, deep voice from behind Lydia. “Was that toy not to your liking?” Lydia’s eyes widened and she spun around. Towering behind her was a voluptuous woman, perfect silvery skin and long, ashblond braided hair dressed in white silken robes that did little to hide her assets. The woman’s piercing pale eyes seemed to stare into her very soul and Lydia found herself blushing, both at the gentle smile she was given and the fact that the woman was drop dead gorgeous. “U-uh,”Lydia stammered as she tried to adjust her gaze and failing, meeting her own black shoes instead. “Cat got your tongue, little one?” The mysterious woman smirked and took another step forward. “Don’t worry child, I don’t bite…much.” “I’m, uh,” Lydia tried again. Normally she would object from being called something so demeaning. She was grown woman in her twenties after all, and sure at 5´6, she wasn’t tall by any meaningful standard, but she certainly didn’t look like a child. Although, next to this woman, she might has well been a toddler. “A-are you…” Lydia said, swallowing audibly, “the esteemed All-Mother?” Absurd, that’s how it sounded coming out of Lydia’s mouth. No titles could ever do this woman any justice. She looked nowhere near what Lydia had imagined. Actually she didn’t look like anything she’d ever encountered, in literature or socially. “Hehe! I suppose that is one of my monikers passed down through the covens of the ages,” the woman grinned. Her laughter was sweet like honey and flowed like pearly rivers through Lydia’s ears, heating up her face anew. “Though, I prefer to be called something much simpler.” “O-oh what is that, if you don’t mind me asking?” Lydia said, “I just want to make sure I’m being respectful.” “Oh aren’t you sweet, but let’s put a pin in that for the moment. I take it that you’re Lydia? Aggie’s kid?” Lydia was shocked to hear that the supposed All-Mother of all Magic already knew her by name, but then remembered that she had called it out when she arrived. But…Aggie? “I-I’m Lydia, yes. Agnes the Augur was my mentor until recently. She told me to seek you out if I wished to ‘broaden my horizons’ and seek a deeper understanding of magic?” “So that is what little Aggie is called nowadays? How precious,” the All-Mother said. Lydia almost snorted at the woman’s attitude regarding her mentor. The strict, old crone had been in her late sixties when she had left, and certainly not someone that Lydia would ever had described as ‘precious’, but it made the young witch relax nonetheless. “You, eh, certainly have a way to refer to your old students,” Lydia chuckled as she tried to find the courage to look the ancient witch in the eyes. She failed spectacularly. “Hmm?” The All-Mother bent to meet her gaze, giving her a wide smile that could conquer kings and queens alike. “What was that Ly-Ly?” Lydia choked on her own spit. “Ly-Ly?” “Of course, my new ward needs to have a cute nickname if I’m adding her to the roster.” While Lydia started to think that this woman was as odd as she was beautiful, she couldn’t help but break out into a smile. “Really? You mean I passed the test?” Already, she could feel her body becoming less tense. “Test?” The All-Mother chuckled. “The intricate runic cube over there?” Lydia arched an eyebrow and pointed. “I admit I was expecting something else to happen when I solved it, but the puzzle itself was amazing! Did you make that?” “Oh you ‘solved’ that little thing, did you?” The All-Mother mused knowingly. “But yes I did make that, but I suspect it was just left out after Millie’s last visit. That little girl is such handful sometimes, always leaving her toys scattered about.” “A-aha?” Lydia wasn’t sure how to respond to that. The cube was merely a toy? What did that even mean? And who was ‘Millie?’ “B-but even if that wasn’t a test…I still get to be your apprentice?” “Hmm? Oh yes, yes of course, sweetie. In fact, I don’t think you have very much choice at the moment. You’re probably going to feel the side effects of the cube soon,” the woman said as she looked around. “Oh dear, Millie forgot to take off the obscuring charms she practiced last time too, silly girl.” Lydia tensed up again. “What do you mean—” But she didn’t have time to finish as the woman waved a hand over the room, chanting silently, clearing away the displacement that hid the furnitures in the room. Lydia’s jaw dropped to the floor as the rest of the room cleared up. A large fuzzy playmat adorned the floor with teddy bear and dolls printed on it, a giant, pink dollhouse rested in one of the corners and a large, white structure with bars, flowers carved into its base containing a baby-blue mattress and pillows stood proudly in another. Is that…is that what I think it is? Lydia balked and looked over to another large object near the it. A soft, smooth mattress adorned its top and underneath it; large, puffy rectangles, and bottles from where the familiar smell emanated from that she remembered from her kindergarten days. The whole room was an enormous nursery! Lydia stared at the giantess again, her previous mentions of nicknames and sweet way of talking making more sense by the minute. “E-esteemed All-Mother?” Lydia said tensely, now fearing for her sanity. “W-what is all this?” “Oh, sweetiepie,” she mused and bent down to boop Lydia on the nose. “Just call me Mommy.”

The beginning of this story talks about how I became a diaper lover. The second part of the story talks about how I met my wonderful wife. Part 1 Before I tell you how I met the woman who would become my wife—and yes, the one who proudly wears diapers—I want to share a glimpse into the world that shaped me, and how I came to find beauty and comfort in something most people wouldn’t expect. I grew up in a place that felt like it had been designed by a child’s imagination. Within half a mile of my house, there were two winding rivers that shimmered in the summer sun, twelve baseball fields that echoed with laughter and the crack of bats, four soccer fields, six basketball courts, seven tennis courts, and a sprawling park with a lake so wide it seemed to touch the sky. That lake was where I learned to swim—awkward strokes at first, then confident dives from the dock. In the summer, I’d float down one of the rivers two or three times a week, letting the current carry me past trees, rocks, and the occasional turtle sunning itself on a log. It was paradise. A place where imagination ran wild and every day felt like a new adventure. I spent more time outdoors than within four walls. By the time I was eight, I had the freedom to wander to the park alone, soaking in the quiet thrill of independence. At thirteen, I graduated to floating down the river solo—a rite of passage that came after my dad joined me for a cautious first run, making sure the currents hadn’t changed too much after winter’s thaw. It was in this world of play and freedom that I began to understand comfort—not just physical, but emotional. The feeling of being safe, accepted, and free to be myself. That sense of comfort would become a guiding thread in my life, even in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time. When I turned thirteen, my uncle hired me to work at his custom homebuilding company. He only built four or five houses a year—not because demand was low, but because his reputation was so strong he could have easily built twenty. He simply believed that quality mattered more than quantity. His priority was making sure every client felt truly at home, with no lingering problems or regrets. That philosophy stuck with me: comfort isn’t just about the space we inhabit—it’s about the care we put into creating it. My job was to keep the worksite spotless—and I mean spotless. I spent my days picking up stray boards, sweeping sawdust, and clearing any debris left behind by the crew. If something was on the ground, it was my responsibility to make sure it wasn’t there for long. My uncle was meticulous about cleanliness. He believed a tidy site reflected a tidy mind—and that even the smallest details mattered when building someone’s dream home. While I was still in school, I would head to the job site right after class. My parents allowed me to work for one hour each day, as long as I kept my grades up. During summer break, I was able to work three days a week for six hours a day. They didn’t want me to miss out on enjoying my summer, so they made sure I still had time to relax and have fun. My uncle employed an architect who had his own dedicated trailer on the worksite. He was stationed there to quickly address any issues that might arise during construction, ensuring problems could be solved on the spot. Although his expertise wasn’t needed frequently, his presence provided peace of mind. When not troubleshooting on site, he spent most of his time drafting house plans for upcoming projects. I gradually became friends with him on the job site. Whenever I had downtime, I’d head over to his trailer and watch him sketch out designs for the new house. After about two months of me hanging around, he turned to me one day and asked, “Want to learn how to draw up house plans?” That simple question kicked off six months of hands-on learning. He patiently walked me through each step, pointing out what I got right and where I went off track. His guidance was steady, and I soaked up everything I could. Then one day, he looked at me and said, “It’s time. I want you to design a three-bedroom house.” I wanted so badly to prove to him that I could do the job—and do it right. For three months, I poured everything I had into the design, refining every detail until I finally felt ready to show it to him. He asked for a couple of days to review it. Three days later, we sat down together and went over the plans. He pointed out where I had made mistakes, but also acknowledged what I had done well. Then he handed the plans back to me and said, “Fix the errors and bring it back in two weeks.” I managed to correct most of the issues on my own, though I did have to ask him for guidance on a few tricky parts. When I brought the revised plans back to him, he looked them over carefully. After a moment, he said, “All the mistakes are fixed.” The next thing he asked me was what I planned to do with the house plans. I admitted I had no idea. That’s when he suggested I submit them to a magazine that publishes and sells architectural drawings—maybe they’d be interested in buying them. So I gave it a shot. About two months later, I got a response. They wanted to buy my design. I ended up making a decent amount of money from that first sale. After that, I started sending them a new plan every six weeks until I graduated high school. I saved every dollar I earned, and by the time I finished school, I had built up a solid little nest egg. Part 2 will be about my childhood.

Lisa is 14 years old and has a secret diaper fetish and decides to tell her parents that she wishes to become a teenage baby.

Margaret or peggy for short is 25 years old and has always want to live the lifestyle of an adult baby in public. Instead of privately she has read online about a park where she can do that with others that are like her.

Here’s the beginning of a new story. It takes place in the same universe as The New Family, and the characters from the stories might cross paths at some point. So I’m starting this story now instead of finishing The New Family first, to avoid spoilers. The first chapter ends on a sad note, but things get better later on. I love all comments: What works? What could be improved? Guesses about the plot. Wishes for what should happen. Anything at all. Stef and Anette Chapter 1: Everything Changes Stef and Anette were ordinary children. Of course, no two children are exactly alike, but there was nothing about them that made people think they were unusual. Stef’s real name was Steffen, but he was always called Stef. He was six years old and had recently started school. Anette, his older sister, was 10 and in fourth grade. They lived in a townhouse in a suburb of the city of Rindum with their mother. Their parents had divorced when Stef was two years old. After school, Stef and Anette went to the after-school club until their mother picked them up on her way home from work. Their mother’s name was Heidi, and she loved spending time with her children. In the afternoons and evenings, they often did things together until the children went to bed. They played cards and board games. Heidi would read stories to them, often with Stef on her lap and Anette sitting next to her so they could look at the pictures together. Sometimes Anette would read aloud to Stef while Heidi helped out with difficult words. Anette liked doing things for Stef. They also sang together sometimes, and other times Heidi sang to the children while playing her guitar. The children also played in the small backyard of their townhouse or at the neighborhood playground with other children. Stef didn’t have any homework yet, and Anette usually finished hers at the after-school club. On weekends when there was no school and Heidi didn't have to work, they often went on outings together. They would usually drive to a nature area and go for a walk. Anette especially loved birdwatching. She had a bird book and always tried to identify the birds she saw and heard. Identifying birds by their calls wasn't easy, but she read the descriptions in her bird book and also had a CD with bird calls. She had a little notebook in which she wrote down every time she saw a bird species she had never seen before. It could make her happy for days. Stef collected beautiful and distinctive stones. Heidi wasn’t entirely happy about it, because the rocks were heavy and took up a lot of space. However, she let him collect them because he was passionate about it. Stef had received a rock atlas for his sixth birthday. Whenever he recognized a rock from his collection in the book's pictures, Anette helped him read the description. Anette also took riding lessons. She biked to the riding school on her own once a week after school. She loved caring for the horses just as much as riding them. Taking care of the animals was fun. After her lesson, she groomed the horse she’d ridden and gave it treats. Recently, she had learned how to check and clean their hooves. The children didn’t see much of their father. He sent them birthday and Christmas gifts. He was a sailor, and last Christmas he had sent them small models of his ship. Every summer, they spent a week’s vacation with him. They usually stayed at a resort near a water or amusement park with organized activities for children. For the rest of the year, however, he was absent from their lives. In the fall, Heidi began feeling unwell. She was unusually tired and could no longer spend as much time with Stef and Anette as she used to. They did fewer activities together on weekdays and often canceled their weekend trips. After several doctor visits, she was eventually diagnosed with breast cancer and admitted to the hospital. Since there was no one to take care of Stef and Anette, they were temporarily placed in children’s homes. They were not allowed to be together. Stef went to a boys' home, and Anette went to a girls' home. They were miserable. They both missed their mother, each other, and their friends. The only bright spot was that they could still attend the same school. A bus that made stops at several different schools drove them to school from each children's home every morning and picked them up in the afternoon, so the trip took much longer than usual. Twice a week, they were allowed to visit their mother. Stef was very upset. He cried himself to sleep almost every night. During the day, he snapped at other children over the smallest things. He began wetting the bed, so his caregivers began putting him in a diaper at night. This upset him even more, and he ripped the diaper off several times after going to bed in fits of rage. As a result, the children’s home decided to put him in a one-piece sleeper with feet and a back zipper that he couldn’t unzip himself. Now, he could no longer reach his diaper. Stef soon became passive and withdrawn in his grief. He also began wetting his pants several times a week, so he was put in pull-ups during the day. He could pull them down to use the bathroom, but was often too overwhelmed to make it to the bathroom in time. Peter, the boy Stef shared a room with, was one of the few people who could comfort him. Peter was eight years old and also wore diapers at night, but he had grown accustomed to it and didn’t let it bother him. When Stef cried after they had been put to bed, Peter would often crawl into his bed and hug him. This gradually helped Stef, who longed for physical contact, to calm down. The caregivers at the children’s home often found them curled up together when they were woken up in the morning. Anette was also unhappy at her children's home. She withdrew into herself, speaking only when asked a direct question. She lost her appetite and would often stare silently into space instead of eating. She began to lose weight, so the staff started keeping a closer eye on her during meals. They had to remind her to eat before letting her leave the table. She was also lucky with her roommate. Beth sat next to her during meals and tried to cheer her up a little, doing everything from giving her gentle pats on the back to making funny faces to make her laugh. Gradually, they grew close and shared their sorrows with one another. Meanwhile, Heidi’s condition continued to worsen. The cancer was discovered too late for treatment to be effective. She died at the end of November.

A bit different, a quick bit of fun I need a mall day. I read the email from my supervisor: ///// “Cynthia, Your request for a half day off is approved. Tom P.S. Great job with the Hansen case BTW, they are very pleased.” ///// I smiled to myself… Dang right it was a good job. I worked my tail off finding those public records of that shit. Glad someone appreciates it. I grabbed my phone and called my BFF, Julie. We’ve known each other since college. Too bad she’s straight, maybe we could have been an item at one time. But now, it’s more like she’s the sister I never had… ///// “Hello?” “Hey Jule…. I got the afternoon off, let’s celebrate.” “Oh… hey Cindy… I can’t. I sort of promised Kathleen…” “Oh… dang.” “Well… it’s nothing major, maybe… maybe you can join us? We’re just going to have a wax party?” Aw sheesh… I would love that… but ever since I got drunk and made a pass at Kathleen… “Are you sure? I mean… you know how the last one ended….” “I’ll make a deal with you…. You do me and I’ll do Kathleen. And no wine this time…” “DEAL!! What time?” “She was coming over to my place about four, then we’d make an evening of it.” “I’ll bring some pizza!” “Great!! See you then.” ///// After I hung up I realized: Shit… that means Kathleen will be waxing me! Is that a good thing or a bad thing? The thought of her touching me down there…. But knowing her, after last time, she’d probably enjoy ripping my pubes off with warm wax!! … I arrived right on time with two medium pizzas. Julia answered the door, “Hey girl, come on in. Kathleen is pouring.” I carried the pizza to her kitchen counter where Kathleen was pouring a glass of wine. Now, don’t get me wrong, Julia is good looking. And as I said, we’ve been BFF’s since forever. But Kathleen…. Her blond tresses, those ample boobs… and those lips, when they touched that wine glass…. Shiver. She noticed me staring, “Julia says no wine for you tonight… right?” I blinked and shook my head a little, “Yeah… listen… I’m sorry about…” She shrugged, “Just remember…. It’s never going to happen. You’re nice Cindy, but I’m just not into girls.” Sigh… here I am with two women, and nothing is going to happen. Oh well… Julia came into the kitchen and opened a box of pizza as she said, “I’ve got the wax warming up in the living room, let’s eat while it’s getting ready.” … With Julia, the three of us slipped back into our comfortable selves. Julia and I have waxed each other’s legs since school. And when I asked her to start doing my kitty, she just shrugged and obliged. I offered to do hers once, but she declined. Then Julia invited Kathleen to one of our ‘wax parties’ a few months back. We always had a nice evening, until last month. That’s when I got too drunk. … Kathleen was on her third slice when she tossed her half-eaten slice back onto the lid of the box, “Ugh… I can’t eat another bite.” Julia picked the pepperoni slice from Kathleen’s discarded piece while I burped from the fizzy cola. My burp smelled of sausage. Julia licked her fingers and closed the lid of the pizza box, “Then let’s get started. Who wants to go first?” I jumped at the chance, “Let me do you first Julia… then I can have some wine.” She shrugged and we all headed to the living room. Now, the unwritten rule was, only one girl at a time gets undressed. Then they have to put their bottoms back on before doing the next girl. Before Kathleen joined our little parties, Julia said she wanted it that way because she sometimes got uncomfortable if I stared too much. Hey, I’m gay, what can I say? I sure as hell am not going to let some guy wax me, and on my salary, having a girlfriend do it is a lot cheaper! Since I asked to go first, Julia started by dropping her jeans. She left her panties on though, as I said, she’s not interested in going further than just her legs. I picked up a spreader stick as she sat on the designated hardwood chair. And I behaved myself, concentrating on the task at hand. Other than a couple of ‘yips’ from Julia, it went fine and soon she was pulling her jeans back up over perfectly smooth, hairless legs. As I got up from being on my knees, I mentioned, “Now for some of that wine….” Julia stopped me, “Maybe you should wait, just watch some tv or something while I do Kathleen.” I was a little miffed. I mean yeah, I know what happened last time, but the idea that I wasn’t able to control myself at all? Then Julia said gently, “Please?” “Oh all right… I’ll sit over at the table,” I capitulated. Julia was a good friend through thick and thin, and I didn’t want to make a scene. I pulled out my phone and played some silly game. I glanced up when I saw Katheen take her panties off. Going for the ‘landing strip’ look again I suppose. Now don’t stare…. When Julia dropped to her knees in front of Kathleen’s spread legs…. Nope nope nope!!! Don’t look, concentrate on your game!!! To her credit, Kathleen didn’t make a sound the entire time. When she called my name, I looked up and she was fastening her jeans, “Okay Cindy… you’re up.” I don’t wear jeans to work; the office has a ‘dress code’. As I walked over to ‘the chair’ I reached behind and unzipped my skirt and placed it on the back of the chair. Then in one quick swoosh, my panties went on top of my skirt. I watched those blond tresses of Kathleen swirling around as she knelt in front of me. Her hand reaching for the applicator, she asked, “The usual? Full Brazilian?” All the other times, I had no problems with Julia doing it. It was simple, just something we’d been doing for years. Like brushing your teeth, or going to the OB/GYN. You just spread your legs and…. But this time with Kathleen, I felt nervous, almost shy. “Well?” Kathleen asked, tapping her free hand on my knee. I spread and decided to look up, not at her. Then it began. She started at my ankles. Maybe she was as uncomfortable as I was about this. She knows I sort of have a thing for her… But she’s “not into girls” She didn’t say a word and Julia seemed to have left. Then I heard her in the kitchen, cleaning up, I guess. Kathleen was working up my legs methodically, soon it was time and I felt warmth over my pussy. Then… YEOW!!! That one hurt! What did she do, wax half my pussy at once!!! I jerked and looked down at her, she wasn’t looking up. I whispered, “Hey, easy…” She didn’t look at me as she started spreading wax again. She just replied, “Oh don’t be such a baby…. Oh wait… I forgot… you LIKE being a baby….” I tipped my head back and gritted my teeth. It’s true… I do that sometimes. That’s why I put up with this… I like being completely smooth… like a baby. And I’m still a bit upset that Julia told you that. “AHHH!!!! JESUS!!!” I swear, that time she almost tore off my labia! I jerked my head down to stare at her, but she was finished. I mumbled, “Julia does it in smaller patches… it hurts less…” Kathleen was standing up, “Well… it’s finished quicker this way.” I looked down and touched gingerly. Yeah, it was as bald as a baby’s… but it was also a bit red. I picked up my skirt and slipped it on, going commando. With the way she did it, I didn’t want to risk panties for a little while. I just tucked them in the waistband of my skirt and said, “Now for some of that wine.” Julia was walking back from the kitchen with a glass already poured and handed it to me. She simply said, “Here you go, this will help.” She’s right, being half drunk usually, it doesn’t seem to hurt as much. But this time, stone sober, and the massive size of the patches the way Kathleen did it…. I took a huge swig and drank half of it at one go. Kathleen had to leave soon, but I stayed back to help Julia clean up and put things away. Then we sat and gossiped for a while. Julia paused at one point and said, “I’m glad you and Kathleen worked things out. You both mean a lot to me, and when you two had that fight… Well I felt sad.” I nodded. Then I said, “Well, I think she got a little back at me tonight. Between being sober and the way she did me…. It HURT!!” Julia giggled, “Why do you think I don’t go that far?” I shrugged and finished my glass, “Yeah I know… but you know how I like the whole ‘baby girl’ thing.” She laughed, “Yeah… I know you. You’ll probably go home, put on a diaper and finger yourself to sleep.” That HAD been the plan, but now… the way it still stings. I squirmed a little and said, “I don’t think so tonight.” Then I punched her shoulder playfully, “And I’m STILL a bit miffed that you told her that about me!” She shrugged a little and apologized, “Yeah, I know. Sorry I did that, but we were drinking and she knew you were a lesbian and I think… I don’t know.” I leaned/ fell sideways a little and put my head on her shoulder, “I forgive you. Just try not to spread it around… Okay?” She reached her hand and patted my head, “Deal. Now, are you okay to drive? Or should I get you an Uber?” I sat up straight again, “I’ll be okay. I only had one glass this time.” She saw me to her door, gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. As she started to close the door, she winked and said, “Good night baby girl… sweet dreams.” … On the way home, I tried to understand it. She’s the one girl that just doesn’t… ‘do it’ for me. She’s more like a sister. And who wants to have sex with their own sister? Now Kathleen on the other hand… But after what she did tonight, I don’t know. I like the loving, caring, mommy-type. Kathleen showed me a bit of her mean side. I remembered afterwards, I wasn’t staring at her body any more. Maybe she did it on purpose… to discourage me. After I got home and undressed, I used the bathroom. It still stung when I wiped so I decided against anything below the waist and just snuggled into bed and fell asleep. … Over coffee and toast, I remembered what Julia said last night. “…probably put on a diaper and finger yourself…” Hmm… it DOES feel better this morning… But maybe… I grinned to myself as I hatched my plan. I put my cup in the sink and went into the bedroom, straight for my stash. Just the act of pulling the thin drug-store brand diaper up between my legs and I was gliding my fingers over the soft cover. No… not yet… Let’s do things right… I got up and found a camisole instead of one of my usual B-cup bras. Then my yellow sun dress. Perfect! THIS little girl is going shopping. Just be a good girl and don’t tinkle too much… these diapers don’t hold a lot. I was giddy with excitement as I got out of my car and walked into the mall. Granted, my outward appearance wasn’t strange at all. I had my yellow purse hanging from its shoulder strap and my dress was a respectable length. And between my camisole and didee… nothing would show through. Perfectly respectable… But I knew my little secret. I wandered past a few shop windows, although I did linger for an extra minute looking at the Victoria Secrets display. Sigh… don’t have the boobs for that. But if I had a mommy that dressed like that….purrrrr… It was getting close to lunch, so I wandered over to the food court and got a plate of Chinese. As I ate, I ‘people watched’. Aww.. there’s a mother with a little girl in a stroller. Look at the pretty booties she’s wearing. Do they come in my size? My eyes wandered, two teenage boys were checking me out. Forget about it guys… I tried boys… wham… bam… thank you ma’am… No thanks. Then I saw her sitting about ten yards away. Whoa… long blond hair?? Check… Big round boobs?? Check… Legs to die for??? Check… Her skirt wasn’t THAT short, but it was short enough and her legs were angled in my direction. I started imagining those legs wrapped around my head…. Then I noticed the neckline of her dress. It wasn’t crazy, but there was some nice soft boob showing…. Oh… I wonder what sort of nipples she has…. I was squirming in my chair a little now. And squeezing my legs together. One of the reason I like diapers… I can feel it pressing against me when I squeeze my legs like this. Holy SHIT!! She just winked at me?? Maybe?!?!?! My hopes rose, but then suddenly dashed when I saw a brunette bend down to give her a hug and sit down with her. Crap! Why are all the good ones taken. I kept staring though, I felt myself getting worked up over her body. But she seemed to be talking to her friend now. I hardly noticed the brunette. Seemed a bit older… jeans and a sweatshirt. Blondie… why don’t you ditch her and come check my diaper? Would you? Would you cuddle me against those boobs and let me suck on them?? Dream on girl… half the women I’ve been with were freaked out by my diapers, and the other half were BITCHES… But hey, I can dream can’t i?? I watched as Blondie got up and walked away, even her ass had a nice look. But then I realized she was alone. I glanced back at the table she was at just in time to see the brunette pick up her trash and walk in the opposite direction. I looked back towards Blondie just in time to see her disappear around a corner and she was gone. Dang… all worked up for nothing. I looked around a bit more, but nothing compared. But now I had a need between my legs and I didn’t want to go home yet. I picked up my tray and emptied it in the bin and walked out of the food court. Next to the food court was the multiplex theater and I had a thought. I stopped to study the movie posters of what was showing. Well… If I find one that’s not too full…. I’ve done it before. If the movie is nice and loud… I felt a little thrill at what I was contemplating as I walked over to the ticket counter. Then a quick stop for a box of candy and a soft drink. As I picked up the cold cup, I smiled to myself. Baby girl might have an accident on the way home…. Giggle It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but then I could tell. Only about six other people, and they were all sitting either in the middle, or down front. Perfect!! I headed for the far back, along the side, not in the middle. I chose next to the wall. Not a great view of the screen, but privacy was the deciding factor. I munched my candy waiting for the movie to start, sipping on my drink. I was watching carefully as a couple came in, but they saw me, so they sat on the opposite side, far away from me. They probably have the same idea, and don’t want anyone too close either. One more person, but they sat down towards the middle. Then the movie started as the lights dimmed. I honestly don’t know much about the movie, that wasn’t the point. I finished my candy and in the darkness; I lowered one hand between my legs. Partly the thrill of what I was about to do, partly thinking of Blondie… but I inhaled sharply when my fingers touched my inner thigh. Oh geez…. I need this… This is going to be good… Now… just let out a little pee…. Poor baby Cindy… can’t hold it can you…. Just a widdle baby…. When the hot urine splashed against my diaper and against my smooth labia… I knew I was going through with this, no matter who noticed. My fingers brushed the soft covering of my diaper and it felt like electricity against my kitty. I closed my eyes and started fantasizing… Baby Cindy needs diapers…. Baby needs her mommy… Suddenly I heard a noise next to me and a voice whispered , “Naughty girl…. ” My heart leapt into my throat as I jerked my hand away and sat up straight. I turned to look and said, “What the hell? You’ve got the whole theater…” It wasn’t Blondie… It was the brunette. I was pissed. Here I was, about to enjoy myself and this woman… She sat down and leaned over, whispering in my ear, “Hate to break it to ya… But she’s as straight as an arrow.” I was confused, “What? What are you… Who is straight???” I felt her breath in my ear, “My blond friend. I saw how you were checking her out. She’s straight as can be. Not at all like me…” I was flummoxed, I didn’t want to admit to this older woman anything. But in one sentence she had told me blondie was straight, and that she wasn’t. But I heard myself stammering a little as I tried to deny it, “I…I wasn’t checking her out….She… she…” I stopped when I felt her lips kissing my neck, whispering, “Don’t deny it, I saw how you were squirming and squeezing your legs together… I’m a woman, I know what that means.” “N…no… NO I wasn’t.. and why did you follow me?” I couldn’t help but tilt my head away, giving her easier access to my neck. I felt her lips on my ear, “I bet you twenty bucks your panties are wet. Care to prove me wrong?” I felt her hand on my knee and then between my thighs as she whispered, “Wet I win, dry I’ll leave…” Shit!! If I wasn’t already so worked up… but dang… those fingers are nice… But what is she going to do when… when she touches…. Then she did. Her fingers found the soft backing of my diaper and froze. For what seemed like hours, they just rested there. Then her voice in my ear, “… interesting…” I tried to make up some excuse, “It… it’s just …. Just protection…” I felt her fingers explore a little. One gently pulled at the elastic opening of my leg. Then her breath in my ear as she whispered, “Nuuu…. It’s a DI-PURRRRRR” Suddenly her hand pushed deep between my legs, reaching under and cupping my diaper directly against my kitty. Then she whispered, “Well it’s not wet panties… but it’s still WET!!! I WIN!!!” “P…please….” Her voice shifted a little as her hand squeezed again, “Please what? Do you need Mommy to change you sweetie? Did Mommy’s little girl tinkle in her DI-PURRRRRR” The way she emphasized that word, then she kissed my neck again and my legs just spread of their own account. God… this is… this is just what I’ve dreamed of…. “Say it sweetie… Tell Mommy you want your DI-PURR changed…” I scooted forward a little and rocked my hips a little against her hand. My voice was barely a whisper, “Yes Mommy…. Baby needs her… her diaper changed….” I whimpered when she took her hand away. I opened my eyes as she reached for my soft drink and said quietly, “Be a good girl and finish your drink. Then Mommy will change your diaper.” My hand trembled as I took the cup from her and sucked on the straw. As soon as she heard the slurp of the straw draining the cup she reached for it and put it in the cup holder. She stood up and reached for my hand, turning, “Come along baby… Mommy will take care of you.” I followed, holding her hand as we left the movie. The light was bright outside and I squinted, then sneezed once. In the movie lobby, instead of heading back into the mall, she led me through the outside doors to the parking lot. I was puzzled, “But the family restroom is back that way…” As we walked between the cars, she just said, “I know sweetie, but neither of us has a spare diaper. Mommy’s going to get you some.” We stopped by a late model red sports car. She opened the passenger side door. “What? You drive around with spare diapers in your car?” I asked. She took a deep breath, “Look, I know where I can get some. Then we’re going to my place where I’m going to change your diaper and you’re going to take a nap with Mommy. Understand? If you behave, I’ll let you suck my tits.” My mouth must have fallen open as I stared at her. Then she reached and hugged me tight, planting her mouth over mine. Right there in the parking lot she stuck her tongue down my throat and I moaned softly. I don’t even know your name? My car is over… Ooo god… her hand on my bottom… What the hell!!! I sat down and buckled as she shut the door and literally RAN around to the driver’s side to get in. We drove a few miles and she stopped at some shop. She shifted into park and said, “Mommy will be just a minute baby…. Behave yourself and no playing with your kitty while I’m gone.” Then she was out of the car and striding with determination into the shop. And here I was interested in Blondie, when this woman… Is she really going to change my diaper? Maybe I shouldn’t have left my car at the mall…. And what was that wisecrack about playing with my kitty??? Just then she reappeared, carrying a large blue and white package. She opened my door and set the package in my lap saying, “Hold these for Mommy.” As she walked around and got in again, I stared at the package. There was an image of an open diaper on it. Words jumped out at me, “Medium”, “Extra absorbent”, “10-hour Protection”, “For bowel and bladder…” SHIT!! Now THESE are DIAPERS!! Only 20 of them and it feels like 20 pounds!!! As she drove, I became curious, “Uh… I’ve never worn anything like these before…” She glanced at me as she drove, “Little girls that tinkle a lot need nice thick diapers. Trust Mommy.” I held them in my lap, reading and rereading the information. I turned the package around and there were some instructions. Mommy must have seen me reading, “Don’t worry, Mommy knows how to change little girls that still wear diapers.” I blushed again, but her words sent a thrill straight to my kitty. I found myself whispering, “Yes …M…mommy.” She gave me a quick smile and said gently, “That’s a good girl.” It turned out she didn’t live all that far from me. Another apartment complex that I often drive past. She parked and got out and came around to open my door. She took the diapers and then reached for my hand, “Come along baby… Second floor, number 2C.” She led me inside and put her purse on the small dining table, saying, “Leave your purse here sweetie… you won’t need it until after naptime.” As soon as I took my purse from my shoulder and laid it on the table next to hers, she reached for my hand, saying, “This way little one…” She led me to her bedroom and tossed the diapers on the bed. Then she turned me around and I felt her fingers pulling down the zipper of my dress, letting it fall to the floor. “EEEP!!!” I exclaimed as I turned to see her draping my dress over a bench tucked under a vanity. All she said was, “Can’t take a nap in such a pretty dress. Now lay down sweetie while I go get some baby wipes.” I stared at the bed where she had tossed the package of diapers. It’s all happening… like one of my fantasies… but those diapers…. They look so… ‘SWAT’ I felt a thump against my bottom as she returned and said, “I said lay down… now be a good girl, or Mommy might have to spank.” SPANK!?!?!?! Wait a minute…. ‘SWAT’ her voice raised a little, “Now sweetie… I mean it.” I did as she said and lay back on her bed. It was soft and had a faint smell, just like her perfume. She leaned over me and reached, “You really shouldn’t use these cheap drug-store ones sweetie. They leak.” I blushed a little when she tore open the sides and peeled down the front. She paused and smiled. Her voice was tender again, “Yes, just as I thought… a little baby girl with no hair. Don’t you worry… Mommy will take good care of your little kitty. Now lift….” I lifted and she tugged the soggy thing from under me. I watched as she popped a couple of wipes from the pack she had retrieved and shivered when I felt the cool touch between my thighs… I felt a hand on my ankle, accompanied by, “Can baby lift her legs for Mommy? We have to clean your bottom too.” It was a little awkward, but with her help I managed to get my legs pointing straight up in the air. Not good enough, Mommy pushed gently until my feet were above my eyes. All she said was, “That’s my baby girl… have to make sure you’re nice and clean…” Geez!!! She can see my ass, Oooph… She’s WIPING MY ASS?!?!?! When she said, “Tsk tsk… Baby needs to wipe better… or ask Mommy for help next time,” I blushed bright red. She let go of my ankles but said, “Now keep your legs just like that sweetie… “ I felt like I was completely on display, which is exactly what was happening. I heard a rip as she tore open the package of diapers. Then a slipping sound and a crinkling. Her voice explained, “These have a nice plastic backing, so they won’t leak little one. And they make a nice crinkle sound. Like diapers are supposed to.” I felt her slip it under me and then her hands gently guided my legs back down. But she didn’t pull it up between my legs. Instead, I felt a finger slowly trace up the fold between my right thigh and hip, then down the other fold, avoiding my kitty. She whispered, “Your little kitty looks a tiny bit sore sweetie…. Do you want Mommy to kiss it and make it feel better?” I heard my voice beg, “Yes Mommy…. PLEASE!!! PLEASE KISS IT AND MAKE IT BETTER….” I watched as she lowered herself between my legs, her voice was gentle. I could feel the warmth of her breath on my kitty as she whispered, “Shh…shh.. Mommy’s here… Mommy will make it all better….” Then her tongue touched me. My knees jerked upward and apart, presenting myself to her eagerly. I heard her whisper, “Such a wet little girl… no wonder you need diapers…” My hands slid under my camisole and gripped my small tits. Her hair may not be blonde, but oh GOD…. OH GOD!!!! I was shivering and lifting my hips towards her tongue. Then I felt her shift and two fingers entered me while her tongue danced over my clit. I was clenching against her fingers as I shivered, but she didn’t stop. My body shivered as I climaxed but she didn’t stop. She brought me right back to the edge and I felt myself rocking my hips, but she didn’t stop. Her fingers wiggled inside me for a second climax; only then did she finally stopped. I was out of breath, and my tits were feeling sore, I had pinched and squeezed them so hard. My knees flopped sideways, any modesty forgotten, as she used another baby wipe to clean my kitty again. My eyes were still closed when I felt her tugging the thick diaper between my legs and I heard the tapes being applied. I peeked when I heard her taking off her clothes; then she climbed in next to me, pulling a soft blanket over us. Her arm reached and pulled me to roll on my side facing her. At first, I was a little confused, she seemed to be laying a lot further up and I wanted to lay my head on her shoulder. Then I felt something against my lips as she whispered, “Here sweetie… Good little girls get to suck Mommy’s titties.” I mumbled, “Call me Cindy.” Then my lips latched on and I suckled. It was wonderful. I was floating on cloud nine, ready to take a nap when two things occurred to me. I let go of her nipple and said quietly, “I need to pee… I’ll be right back and then I’ll kiss Mommy’s kitty…” Her arms tightened around me and she kissed my head. Then she said, “Use your diaper sweetie… And don’t worry about me… just wet your diaper and suck on Mommy’s titty.” I blushed a little and latched back onto her nipple. It took a couple minutes, but I managed to pee in my diaper. I was surprised how quickly it absorbed every drop. Mommy must have known when I wet it because she patted my thickly diapered bottom and whispered, “Good girl….” And that’s the last I remember before falling asleep. The End???

I'm really sorry for the delay on this one. I'm just trying to make everything perfect, and this doesn't feel perfect yet. But I'm probably as close to perfect as I'm going to get. I know this chapter is really short. I'll try to have a longer one up by next week, okay? Anyway... If you haven't read any Academy Works stories, there are five others in this universe. They are as follows: Academy I (Part 1), Academy B (Part 2), Academy T (Part 3), Academy K (Part 4), and Academy A (Part 5). You don't have to read any of the other stories to enjoy this one, but there are a lot of references and overlap. If you're in this for the long haul, and you want to know about the entire universe, I really do recommend reading this one after the other five. As always, you can support me at this Patreon link. Thank you for all the comments and likes over the past year, and I hope to finish this project soon! ~Mia~ --------------------------------- Academy M By Mia Moore "The just are blind to love, and the lovers are blind to everything else." -The Source Mistake One I flipped through the dossier. Of all the cases they wanted me to start with... "So?" "You're sure she's a candidate?" I asked. Eli nodded. He was the Academy's problem solver, and his first problem was the hardest one. How do we identify the candidates? "Judith Levin, age twenty-eight." "And she's been Touched?" I flipped the page. There was a picture on this one: a brunette with half-closed eyes and a faraway look. "Yep," Eli said, which was all that he had to say. If she'd been Touched and he was able to compile a dossier, that was proof enough. She didn't disappear. "So what am I supposed to do," I said sharply, snapping the folder closed. I entwined my fingers in front of me and leaned forward to meet Eli's gaze. He could intimidate anyone, but not me. I'd been working with him for far too long. "Keep her occupied. She's done her part, but she's still an Arcana. She's dangerous." Sure, keep her occupied. Eli was asking me to babysit God. "Why me?" I asked. That was the real question I wanted answered. "There are a thousand other people working here that could handle this." Eli smiled when he said: "She's into tall women." "Well, shit..." "No one is better than you, Maria," Eli went on. He was goading me, but he wasn't wrong. "Where is she?" I asked, entertaining the offer. "Academy B?" "M," Eli said flatly. "Wait, really?" “——— isn't taking any chances." "I guess not..." I twirled my hair in thought. If keeping Judith in line was really so important, then I might as well take on the extra responsibility. It would give me more leverage at the end of all this. "So you'll do it?" Eli asked. "I'll do it." "Good." And then Eli dropped the stoicism for just a moment to give me a smile. "You've got this." "I'm not worried," I said brightly, without a hint of dishonesty. But I should have been worried. I should have shown an ounce of caution, but my pride never let me make such compromises. Determination and commitment motivated me, and they would motivate me to oblivion. Judith Levin would be my downfall, and that cascade began when I accepted her as my responsibility. She was my first mistake.

As someone who identifies more with being a little in middle form I personally prefer to use pull ups as I only have a few accidents Just out of curiosity what's your preference? If you identify more in the middle range do you prefer diapers or pull ups? 🧸

Echoes of Ward 4B Chapter 1: The Descent The beam of my flashlight flickered against peeling, sea-foam green paint. I swept it across the subterranean corridor of St. Jude’s Sanatorium, watching the shadows recoil before slinking back into place. The air was thick enough to choke on—damp concrete, rusted iron, the sweet cloying rot of insulation that had been soaking up moisture for thirty years. My boots crunched through layers of debris: shattered safety glass, chunks of fallen plaster that crumbled to dust under my weight, the spongy remains of floorboards that had long ago surrendered to gravity and moisture. I’d been exploring abandoned institutions for six years. I’d written three books on the subject, built a modest following of readers who were fascinated by the decay of forgotten places. I knew the rhythms of these places—the way the silence suffocates, the way the darkness seems to breathe. But St. Jude’s was different. The silence here wasn’t empty—it was listening. The shadows pushed back against my flashlight beam like a living thing, heavy and hungry, and the air carried a faint, almost imperceptible whisper of something else beneath the rot. Something sweet. Something wrong. My wife’s voice echoed in my memory. “Please don’t go there. That place isn’t just abandoned—it’s wrong. People who go in don’t come back the same.” I’d kissed her forehead, promised I’d be careful, promised I’d text when I was inside and when I was out. She’d held my gaze a beat too long, her thumb tracing the line of my jaw with a soft, steady pressure. “Take care of yourself, my brave explorer. Just relax and come back to me.” Now, standing in the damp darkness, I wondered if she’d been right. The corridor stretched ahead, a throat of cracked linoleum and rusted pipes. Water dripped somewhere distant—plink… plink… plink—the sound impossibly loud in the oppressive quiet. The walls were slick, moisture beading on the peeling paint like cold sweat on fevered skin. I passed a rusted doorway labeled WARD 4B: ADOLESCENT CARE, the letters faded but legible. Beneath it, someone had scrawled in chipped marker: ABANDON ALL HOPE, YE WHO ENTER HERE. I almost laughed. Almost. But the sound caught in my throat, swallowed by the darkness. The beam of my flashlight caught something half-buried under a collapsed pile of plaster. Something that didn’t belong in a place sealed for thirty years. Something that glittered faintly in the yellow light, smooth and unnatural against the rough debris. I knelt, my knees popping in the cold, and kicked away the debris. The object emerged slowly, and my stomach did a slow, queasy turn. It was a diaper. A vintage Tena from the 1990s. Smooth, crinkly, pale-green plastic backing. Thick white adhesive tapes that had yellowed with age. But the plastic was bulging. Heavy. Visibly soiled. As if it had been discarded only moments ago instead of rotting for decades. There was no dust on its surface, no mildew, no decay. The faint, acrid scent of urine still clung to it, fresh and unmistakable, cutting through the rot of the ruins like a knife. Who wore this? The thought surfaced unbidden. And why is it still fresh? I knew better than to touch biohazards in a place like this. My rational mind screamed at me to step back, but a strange, heavy compulsion seized my arms. Moving against my own will, I reached down and picked it up. The cold, damp weight settled heavily in my palms. The plastic crinkled under my grip, a sound that was disturbingly loud in the dead silence. I could feel the moisture through the shell, seeping into my gloves, chilling my skin. I should have dropped it. I should have thrown it and run. I didn’t. And then the ringing started. It wasn’t a sound—it was a pressure, a sharp metallic vibration that seemed to originate from inside my own skull. It built and built, a rising tide of noise that drowned out everything else until I couldn’t tell if the ringing was coming from the corridor or from the space behind my eyes. A violent surge of heat hit my chest, spreading outward like molten lead through my veins. I gasped, finally dropping the flashlight. It clattered to the floor but didn’t go out—the beam wobbled wildly, painting fractured shapes across the walls as the darkness itself seemed to writhe. The air changed. One breath, damp rot and mildew, thick and cold. The next, something scalding and sterile—industrial bleach so sharp it burned my nostrils, floor wax that coated my tongue with a bitter chemical film, the dry, hot scent of cotton that had been pressed and folded a thousand times. It was suffocating, invasive, the smell of a place that had been scrubbed clean of humanity and replaced with something else entirely. The vertigo hit. My stomach lurched. The heavy leather of my boots shrank around my feet. My spine compressed, vertebrae grinding together as my height dropped by a foot, then another. My jeans pooled around ankles suddenly too small to fill them. My belt cinched tight—then loosened, useless, as my hips narrowed and my shoulders folded inward. My stubble retracted into my skin like needles pulling back, each hair withdrawing with a faint, prickling sensation. My jaw rounded, the bone reshaping with a dull ache. My cheeks filled, losing the hollows I’d had since my twenties. My voice box shrank until my Adam’s apple retreated into my throat. My hands—broad, calloused, a man’s hands—softened, smoothed, the knuckles disappearing beneath baby-soft skin. I opened my mouth to scream, but only a thin, reedy whimper came out. The beam of my fallen flashlight vanished—swallowed by the blinding, uniform glare of overhead fluorescent tubes reflecting off freshly waxed linoleum. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the light pressed through my eyelids, relentless and white, staining the darkness behind my eyes a painful, burning red. When I opened them, the decaying hallway was gone. Polished chrome cots in neat rows, the metal cold and gleaming. Thick, reinforced wire glass in unbroken windows, the surface scratched and pitted from years of cleaning. Gleaming floors stretching away in both directions, reflecting the fluorescent lights above like a frozen lake. The walls were painted a bureaucratic beige, interrupted at intervals by heavy steel doors with small, wire-reinforced windows. Each door bore a painted number in faded black stencil. I looked down at my hands. They were small. Soft. The hands of a twelve-year-old child. The blue hospital gown I was wearing was rough against my skin, the fabric stiff and scratchy, draping loosely off my narrow shoulders. My bare legs were pale and thin, the skin smooth and unblemished. I was lighter, smaller, diminished in every dimension. And then came the sensation between my thighs. Heavy. Snug. Thick. Crinkly plastic and swollen padding suspended against my skin, held firm by four broad tapes across my hips. Warm and damp. Unmistakably wet. The padding pressed against my thighs, bulky and inescapable, forcing my legs apart with every subtle movement. My hand trembled as I pulled up the hem of the gown. Peeking out from my waist was the smooth, crinkly top margin of the same green plastic Tena diaper. The same pale-green backing. The same thick white tapes. But this one wasn’t old or dusty or waiting to be found. It was on me. A sharp clatter made me jump. Down the hall, a nurse in a crisp, white vintage uniform stepped out of a duty station, rubber-soled shoes squeaking against the polished floor. She held a metal clipboard, her face stern but routine. She looked right at me. Right at the child in the wet diaper. And her expression didn’t flicker—not surprise, not disgust, just the bland, routine assessment of someone who had seen it all before. “Back to your room, young man,” she said, her voice echoing down the corridor. The words were calm, even, but carried the weight of absolute authority. “Dr. Vance will be making rounds for morning check-in shortly, and we need to get you changed before group session.” I stood frozen in the middle of the ward, completely trapped in the past.

Author's Note. Before proceeding, I wanted to thank Brutal_Ink for coming up with this universe. I've actually made some changes to the first chapters because on reread there were some things I missed that are Kalvassa setting lore that I wasn't thinking about at the time I was writing the first chapters. There were also some dyslexia related typos that actually really mattered with how they touched on lore. I'd made a point to reread all of their work, works set in the Classified universe, and a Home in the Hills before starting and some Classified stuff still slipped in so I wanted to fix some of that. The details are fairly minor but important from a world building and continuity standpoint. So, even if you've read the first chapters originally, it may be worth a reread. The second thing is, the story changed significantly. I realized I'd boxed myself into a timeline that I didn't have the ability to resolve so some changes were made there too. Consider this adjustment to be the start of a version 1.1. Part 1: Surviving Chapter 1 The atmospheric river pounded Port Alki for the third night in a row. Two inches already today, with two more days of rain in store, snow would probably set in after that. At least that’s what they had been saying on the news and the city was taking it seriously enough to be blowing up people’s SmartBands with weather warnings. It was so soon after Solstice Day that stores still had their decorations up, tongue-in-cheek depictions of traditional summer activities done in winter. Holiday travel and bad weather kept most people off the streets. The city was piling up sandbags along the banks of the King Chuck river but the fear was that it was just going to be a stop gap, which meant even emergency alerts. Bad weather, bad vibes for the next few days, and a lot of people still being out of town did make for a quiet, nearly empty autobus ride across the bridge over Lake Unity to the posh suburbs of Rainwood more bearable. Arinae didn’t care about the rainstorm. Even two hours after getting off the bus her hair was barely dry, she was more focused on the underground show that she’d found herself schelping all the way across the white cap covered lake from her squat in University Hill for. She was focused on her headache, her anxiety from the crowded space, and the constant rolling in her tummy, trying to wait out all three before her friend’s set. She wrote off the nausea as nothing, probably anxiety or the bulgogi tacos from that questionable fusion truck near the bus stop at 23rd and Denny that she’d had before dipping in. Here, she felt safe and warm in a loud basement, packed in with 30-40 other people, mostly women but some trans men, enbys, and a few gay guys and maybe one or two straight men who wandered in to hit on girls not knowing, or more likely not caring, that half of the people who identified as women either didn’t like dick and the other half probably had one. It was dark and sweaty and Arinae could tell deodorant was an accessory for at least enough of them for there to be a musky smell of B.O. in the basement turned impromptu punk venue. Well, B.O., weed, and a sort of ammonia smell that told her Roland must have done a rush job cleaning the place up and didn’t air the place out. She became acutely aware that she couldn’t remember if she remembered to put on deodorant either. Arinae stood in the corner of the hot, stuffy venue, leaning up against the decaying drywall and generally trying to not be touched and avoid touching others. She couldn’t really see faces in the crowd and the singers were lit up from makeshift ground lights that made everyone look like they were telling a scary story at camp. Sound coming from all around her head was overwhelming but directed, forceful sound in the back corner of a basement, just being slammed with the noise of untuned instruments and the off key, raging vocals of the hot trans woman in a dirty seifuku just felt nice. She felt the rhythm in her chest. The pressure of the sound waves was like a weighted blanket or a hug, just constant, thruming pressure that felt nice. In short doses, she could vibe with it before she’d have to go up for air and head out into the rain for a breather, stim, and puff on her vape before going back in. The girl in the Seifuku had finished their set by the time Arinae came back in and No Kill Shelter was on, they weren’t the band Arinae had come to see, per se, her friend Jaz had gotten back out of DJing and megaglitch music and back into punk and their new band Neon Pulse was supposed to be playing tonight. It was Neon Pulse’s first show, but the basement of the seasonal punk house belonged to the lead singers' grandparents and they spent six months of the year in the northern hemisphere, so for six months, it got to be full of us. Arinae forced the prettiest smile she could with the nausea from across the dark basement at the puppy girl bassist on stage. The woman was wearing a pet play mask so Arinae couldn’t tell if she smiled back. Cute, Even without her face visible her body should have been attractive. Arinae felt like she should feel more though. She couldn’t even be sure the puppy girl or the seifuku girl had even seen her. Maybe she did like men after all? Or maybe not. Who knows? At this point though, she’d have settled for anyone, of any gender who didn’t have more red flags than a Worker’s Day parade coming over to maybe talk to her. What they would say, she had no idea. “Hey girl, nice tits, are they new?” She scoffed to herself. She couldn’t even imagine a good pick up line she’d even like. How was she supposed to hit on anyone? Being an aloof wall flower hadn’t worked in the about twice a month she’d been coming for the last half year. She’d hoped willowly trans femme with an allure of mystery about her might cause someone to take note but there were like ten of those in this basement alone. Arinae’s headache was getting beyond unpleasant. The pain had crept up from the back of her neck and was now focused in behind her left eye. She noticed she was closing it involuntarily, a sure sign a major headache was going to come on. “Fuck…” she muttered, even saying it out loud caused the contents of her stomach to lurch much closer to the front of her mouth than they should have. Neon Pulse was gonna start soon but the room felt like it was getting hotter and the lights she could see at the stage felt brighter and sharper. Arinae became acutely aware of every single bead of moisture on her body and how much she must also be reeking of B.O. I took a shower before I came, I shouldn’t be feeling this gross. Thought Arinae to herself, peeling away from the corner with a stagger, pain was burning in her calves and stumbled her way to the steps, one hand over her left eye. Fresh air would probably help. With every step, Arinae could feel the pain in her head growing sharper. As she left the immediate noise of the basement, she could hear her Smartband beeping furiously at her. Arinae tried to focus on it but her head hurt too much and her vision wouldn’t focus. It was flashing red. Oh Esvyra, am I dying? She slumped against the wall for support as she climbed the steps one at a time, her worn out, loose shoes griping and flopping irregularly and despite her mortal fear, Arinae regretted that they were gonna give her blisters. She tried to keep her open eye focused on the ground in front of her so the room would stop spinning. A scarier thought came to her, did someone poison me? I only had water earlier and I thought I’d covered it…” On instinct and muscle memory of the house’s layout, Arinae stumbled forward as if she were trying to keep ahead of her own body collapsing. She was in the kitchen now and stumbled past a few people milling about and drinking Roland’s grandparent’s alcohol. She caught a chair with her hip bone, knocking it over and she continued forward. The living room now, the door was in sight, soon she could get air and- The contents of Arinae’s stomach were in more of a hurry than she was. The 21 year old trans girl emptied her stomach on the plush carpet of Roland’s grandparent’s house. That’s when she heard the first “Oh, is she OK?” and then the “Oh shit!s” As she fell to her knees and people rushed over to her. The first responder was a tall guy, maybe late 20s, could be early 30s. Probably the oldest guy here. Taller than her so that meant over six feet at least, maybe six and a half. He had a thick beard, tats, and a little bit of a lisp. Arinae didn’t know his name, but she’d seen him around a few shows. “Hey now girl, easy there,” the large man put his arm around Arinae as he tried to speak softly to her. All the noise from the circle that was forming around her just made Arinae’s head hurt even more. She couldn’t stop puking, she was retching again and again and she knew it wasn’t just just the K-Tacos that was wrong with her “I’m a nurse, I’m gonna help you through this and” he paused. “Oh shit…” he said quietly at first. Arinae began to sob, she’d held it together the whole time until now. “I’mdyingi’mdyingi’mdying” Arinae repeated to herself as dark walls closed in on the edge of her vision and she could feel her heart beating behind her eyes. “If you can find an ELK kit, bring it, NOW!” the nurse hollered at someone. Arinae sobbed and shook with fear. Her bladder released into her jeans and she was hardly aware of anything beyond a warm sensation she couldn’t quite recognize in her state of sheer panic. “Here,” the man said, taking her chin in his hand, “I’m gonna need you to be brave, you’re not dying. I promise you that you are not dying.” Arinae wasn’t any more convinced or less afraid but she nodded anyway, sputtering out tears still. “Here, sweetie, I want you to try each of these and tell me when one tastes good. She bit into the first and all she could taste was the bile in her mouth still. The second one though tasted like the sweetest strawberries she'd ever eaten. “Dat one,” she said, still huffing through her tears and rapid breathing. “L-2,”, he muttered and that’s the precise moment Arinae figured out exactly what was wrong. “Call 333, she needs to get to a NURSAID clinic, now.” She didn’t have food poisoning, she hadn’t been drugged, and she wasn’t dying. It was worse. This was chrysalis. Chapter 2 Arinae woke up in a hospital bed with an IV port in her hand, another line in the crook of her elbow and a tube in her nose, her head still throbbed but she was done puking. Her hair felt oily and she couldn’t immediately find her glasses. She was naked save for the paper gown she wore and she could tell she had some underwear on that felt as clammy as the rest of her. Her hands, she looked at them, they were different, smaller. Everything was bigger. Arinae began to hyperventilate and she felt her heart rate accelerate and one of the monitors started beeping loudly, long single tones with several seconds of gap. The screen was flashing red and even if she couldn’t read the words without her glasses, she still knew what the spiking she was seeing on the monitor was. It was stupid but, panicking and alone, she wished she’d woken up to see her mom sitting in the chair beside the bed, being a good mom. Or even Jaz at least, or Vaellyn coming to see why his long term guest didn’t come home from the party. But it was empty, no one had come for her. Arinae was lonely and terrified and heartbroken. Nobody came, no one was waiting for her to wake up. She was in the hospital and it didn’t matter to anyone. She couldn’t help but to start sobbing. It started soft but the tears soon became loud, wailing cries of anguish that echoed from the barren, sterile beige walls of her room. Chrysalis had always been something far in the future, something to not worry about today and she was confident her SmartBand should have told her it was coming. At least then she could have gone to the proverbial gallows with some preparation. Arinae knew what was coming and that didn’t make it any easier. She felt her life crashing down around her: college, romance, a life of her own all vanishing. She couldn’t remember what that nurse had said she was. She just remembered the sweetest strawberries she’d ever tasted. She could have been a Neutral, if she'd been lucky, but her hands and what she remembered about the ELK kit from the party told another story. One of her siblings was neutral but the other was an L4 and he was still at home with mom and dad. Her family tree was littered with aunts and uncles who were little and she’d always feared that she’d be designated that way when the time came. Some littles fought and protested and demanded to take the tests again but right now, alone in a hospital bed, Arinae could only grieve what her life could have been. She was afraid, for as much as Arinae had hoped in her drowsy moment waking up that she might have seen her mom, she knew she couldn’t go home. Not after how she left. Going back home would mean giving up on being herself even more than a bad evaluation would. Arinae heard a knock on the door, she tried to sniffle out “come in” but her mouth was so dry and her throat so sore the words came out in a hoarse whisper. The door opened slowly and a slightly heavyset woman in cartoon character covered scrubs peaked into the room. Her actual features were blurry but she had cat’s eye glasses and streaks of grey in her tied back, black hair. “You’re awake,” she observed the obvious. Arinae weakly nodded. “Where am I-” she croaked out. The woman came to her bedside and took a look at the screens hooked up to all the wires connected to her and wrote down what she was seeing in the tablet she carried before looking over towards Arinae. “Do you remember your name, sweetie?” Her voice was kind but detached. Arinae was just another patient. The warmth was real but surface level. “Arinae,” the girl said, her throat burning with every word. “Arinae Eyfring.” The nurse smiled. “That’s a good girl,” Arinae’s stomach turned, before tonight ‘good girl’ was pure gender euphoria but after chrysalis, it felt like doom. Like she’d only ever be ‘sweetie’ or ‘good girl’. Never hot. Never beautiful. “Now, a few other questions. Can you tell me the date and who the Prime Minister is?” “22 Agaris, 2624 KY,” she choked out, “the Prime Minister is Madrene Korvalder, now please,” she pleaded, “where am I? The nurse looked satisfied with her answers and nodded as she entered the responses into the table, “well, it was the 16th and Korvalder was the Prime Minister when you came in, so I think that counts.” Arinae’s heart sank, how much time had she lost? The nurse seemed to read her mind. “Don’t worry dear, you’ve been here for about seven weeks under medical supervision. There was a leadership spill over some corruption business, you didn’t miss the 2625 election or anything. Don’t worry, you got it right enough.” The nurse reassured before putting her hand on the railing of Arinae’s bed. Even without the hand on her, Arinae flinched as it came close. The nurse cocked an eyebrow and made another entry on her datapad. “The doctor will tell you more but you’re at NURSAID Harborview in the Step Down unit. You’re still in Port Alki but you’ve been very sick.” The nurse took her hand off the rail and instead walked over to one of the room’s counters and came back bearing Arinae’s glasses. In that moment, she was an angel giving her back the gift of sight. She could tell the frames were too big for her face but at least now she could see. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure Doctor Eadwulf knows that you’re awake. He can tell you more but, my dear, you need to rest. Breathe, your heart rate’s in the 130s. You are safe here.” Arinae broke into fresh tears, she wasn’t safe no matter what the woman said. “It’s OK sweetie, it’s OK…” the nurse’s voice was so warm, so tender and gentle that Arinae wanted to believe her. “I’ll get the doctor. He’ll be here in a jiffy. Once you’ve talked with him we can get that feeding tube out and you can have a real meal in a few hours. I know it’s hard to talk right now so just press this button if you need anything,” she held up the call button and placed it beside Arinae in bed, making sure to move calmly and deliberately to avoid touching the girl. “My name is Min if you want to ask for me.” Arinae didn’t know how long she’d been alone before the doctor came in. There was no clock to keep time with and no distractions to keep her mind busy. She just alternated between crying and being too burned out and weak to keep crying. Seven weeks of her life were spent in a hospital bed. The knock on the door interrupted her feeling sorry for herself. The doctor was also similarly middle aged, with a salt and pepper beard, thinning hair, and glasses. He came into the room with a general sense of being rushed and overworked. Arinae could see the dark circles under his eyes. “Mist-Miss Eyfring,” he caught himself, but not soon enough for Arinae to not notice the misgendering. “I’m Doctor Eadwulf,” he sat down in the chair beside her bed where her friends should have been. “I know you’ve got a lot of questions and I want to do everything I can to explain what happened to you, what we’ve been doing, and what our next steps are going to be.” He paused briefly, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement before continuing. “Yeah, sure…” Ariane mumbled. Dr. Eadwulf gave her a slight smile. “Good. Now, this conversation can be emotional, you may have big feelings and that’s OK but we’re going to listen first and talk later, is that understood?,” bastard had no beside manner. She wasn’t a child, at least not yet. She wasn’t sure if the misgendering or the condescension was worse, but decided that this guy sucked either way. She did nod though, she was too weak and her throat hurt too bad to really interrupt anyway. “Good girl,” he said and Arinae cringed, the last time she’d been called a good girl before tonight was when she went back to a rented hotel room with some designated CG woman she’d brought back to where she was staying after meeting her at a bar show. That had been about four months ago. The sex had been…well, nonexistent. She’d been too afraid when the time came. They had just cuddled and Arinae couldn’t stop crying when her fling for the night stroked her pink hair and called her a good girl while they were flirting. If freaking out about being touched didn’t kill the mood and make it weird enough, that put it over the top. She’d never returned any of the woman’s messages after that. “Alright, so, to begin we first tried to detect any CHITs in your blood work and were surprised that we didn’t find any. Good for you, of course, we would have had to alert the authorities if they had been found.” “Subsequent tests revealed that you’d experienced onset about 3 months ago. However, we think the hormones you’ve been taking may have interfered with the SmartBand’s ability to detect hormonal changes associated with the process. Basically, you were putting up so much hormonal ‘noise’ that the signal got lost.” This guy fucking sucked. Her hormones weren’t noise and it wasn’t her fault that the bands were made with cis people in mind. She did flash back though to being given those informed consent pamphlets earlier in the year. They had warned of possible side effects; blood clots, gallbladder stuff, and one of them that she’d skimmed over was interference with chrysalis hormone detection. If it was known about enough to be in the pamphlet, it was all the worse that it wasn’t built into the design! “Your hormones made it so your body was going through significant changes without any alert to report for classification and receive medical assistance. The night you came in, you were in stage 2 CDRD. That’s why you were so sick. Your body was shutting down. We got you stable in the ER and started you on hormone stabilization and began growth regulation treatment after nanites repaired your organs and the team had confidence that you’d survive.” Survive. The gravity of it all hit her. If it weren’t for that nurse at the show, if it weren’t for being at the show she could have died on the floor of Vaellyn’s parent’s rumpus room. She hadn’t been feeling well in the days leading up to the show, but thought it was a cold. Headaches weren’t unusual and she chalked up the aching joints and general feeling of unease to sleeping on a lumpy, unsupportive sofa in a mildewy basement for a few weeks. She’d lost some weight too, but she just assumed that was not having money to eat more than a meal a day. Her shoes felt too big but she’d assumed the old canvas sneakers were just wearing out. Arinae winced and put her head in her small hands. There it was, the death sentence. So many assumptions that could be written off at the time but were damning in hindsight. Doctor Eadwulf had stopped his explanation, he kept his eyes locked on her and she was sure he could imagine what she was processing. “It’s fairly traumatic when someone undergoes Chrysalis without support, mentally but also physically, all the more so for a Little,” he continued after a few seconds. Arinae wasn’t sure if that was meant to be reassuring or not. “You’ve been here about seven and a half weeks and since you were already past onset, going off data we had from your SmartBand, the endocrinologist who’s been part of your care team believes you’re about four and a half months into Chrysalis.” “Since you’ve been with us we’ve noticed a reduction in height and weight. Your last measurement was on Midris, two-” he looked at his watch, “three days ago, when you work the night rotation it’s sometimes hard to keep track.” “Anyway, your last measurement with us has you at 59.8 inches. Your measurement six months ago was 68 per your chart. Your weight has gone down significantly to 108 pounds, we have your last measurement at 159, so a very sharp drop off there. Your shrinking should be more even and gradual now that you’re on the stabilizers but you’d lost a few inches and nearly twenty pounds in the last three weeks from the metrics we got from your SmartBand.” “Classic CDRD, your body was trying to reduce the volume of fluid and tissue and it was attacking itself. Stage 2 was when your body has attacked your organs so severely, damage occurs. Not irreversible yet, but enough to be an emergency.” Everything made sense, her hands, the size of everything. Her loose clothes, her floppy shoes, her aching joints, it just all fell into place. She was the height of maybe a teenager now and her weight was even lower than that. She felt tears in her eyes but this guy had been such a prick about her hormones and so matter of fact about everything she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of crying in front of him. She held it back even as her lip quivered involuntarily. “Now that you’re awake, tomorrow we’re going to begin the assessments. You’re going to get them on a tighter time frame than most would because you’re further along and knowing your classification is going to be vital in the coming days and weeks. If you’re below an L4, we can contact your parents to come pick you up, or if you’d like we can place you for adoption. It’s your choice.” He said with a patronizing smile. “Adoption,” Arinae said without hesitation. Doctor Eadwulf raised his brow and Arinae felt a little bit of satisfaction in getting a rise out of him. “Hmm.” was his only response to that as he jotted something down on his tablet. “I’m sure we can arrange for a caregiver then if you fall below L4” he said, looking back up at her. He stood up and stretched a bit. “It was good to sit down for a moment but you’re not my only patient tonight. I understand Min is going to come in with some breakfast for you” “Right now we’re going to have you on something bland, scrambled eggs and toast was the order I put in for you. Let’s just see if you can hold that down first and then we’ll discuss getting that tube out of your nose. After that, get some sleep. Tomorrow is classification day for you.” He stood up and walked towards the door, putting his hand on the knob before turning around, as if remembering something he’d forgotten to mention or as if he savored delivering the most devastating blow last. “Oh, and Min should probably change you while she’s at it, I can smell that you’re wet from here.” Fucking bastard.

Meta Moore By Sophie & Pudding *Author's Note: About 5 years ago, a woman named Mia Moore wrote the Academy Works series here on DailyDiapers. It is one of the worst-kept secrets that this was a pen name Pudding and I used, all so we could write THIS story! (Yeah, we really did write a seven-book series just to write a side-story.) And though you can find the whole story elsewhere on the internet, we think it's time to post it on DD as well. I'll be posting chapters in blocks so people have time to build a relationship with the characters and the narrative. ----------------------------------- At the time of this story's first chapter, Mia has written Academy I [Part 1], Academy B [Part 2], Academy T[Part 3], Academy K [Part 4], and the first six chapters of Academy A [Part 5]. Throughout this story, more chapters will be released (and clearly denoted). Though it isn't necessary to know anything about Academy Works to enjoy Mia's story, it might be fun to follow along as a fan of hers. In which case, we recommend you read *all four stories above and the first six chapters of the fifth story*. SPOILERS: This story contains spoilers for Academy Works up to and including Academy A - Chapter 6. ----------------------------------- Wednesday, October 5th 1.) I sunk down in my seat and rubbed my eyes under my glasses. The meet-up hadn't been a total disaster, but I didn't expect to run into someone I knew. Who drove two hours away to go to dinner, anyway? Me, I supposed. I took a deep breath. It felt like the first deep breath I'd taken since bumping into Blossom Brixley. Well, we didn't literally bump into each other; I saw her from across the room. I ducked out before finishing my pizza and hurried back to the train station. The truth was, she probably didn't even know who I was. Blossom Brixley was easy to spot from across a room. She was a tall girl with bottled-blonde hair, a slim, almost lanky frame, and a figure that people either wanted or wanted to have for themselves. She was the quintessential popular girl experience; cheerleader in high school, beloved by most, and - contrary to many snap-judgements - pretty clever. Good grades, good looks, and a smile that melted hearts the way summer melted ice cream. If life dealt hands, it was easy to presume that Blossom had been dealt a good one. Blossom Brixley was easy to spot from across a room, but the girl she followed onto the train was facing away from the door. Just as the train lurched forward, Blossom plopped down in the seat across from the girl, so the two were facing each other. Blossom read the name tag on the girl's shirt, only to confirm that it said what she thought it said. Mia Moore. She couldn't believe it… it was actually her. I just about jumped out of my skin when she sat down. It was like waking up from a nightmare just to see the thing you feared standing above you in your bed. And the train had started to move: I couldn't run again. My heart rate doubled. "Blossom..." I managed to eke out. Why was she on the train? She had a car; she sure talked about it enough in high school. But just because we were both on the train didn't mean she saw me at the munch. "Nice to, uh... see you." Had I ever said this many words to her before? Four years at the same high school, two years at the same college, seven classes together... actually we had one together right now. She was impossible to miss. I, on the other hand, was impossible to notice. "You're awfully jumpy!" Blossom laughed. She had done enough drugs to know what euphoria felt like. That was how she felt: euphoric, with a touch of anxiety. "I'm a girl, not a spider - nothing to be afraid of." A girl, not a spider. That definitely didn't align with my schema of Blossom. In high school, she was often cruel. She was popular, but she was also smart; that made it worse. Then I noticed her looking down at my chest, or rather, the nametag I was still wearing from the munch. I quickly tore it off and crumpled it into a ball. Was my face hot? I felt a little sick. "Well, it was nice seeing you," I said too quickly, pulling out my phone to pretend like I was replying to a text. For a girl who cheered in front of her whole school for years, Blossom found herself oddly awestruck. She didn't bother the girl as she played on her phone, instead choosing to gaze out the window as the city went by. Trees. Then houses. Then buildings. There was a while left on the route, and there weren't many other people in the carriage. It was now or never, wasn't it? "I've read your stuff, you know." "Uh..." She read my stuff? She meant that she read my stuff online. She read that particular kind of stuff. Because she saw my nametag, because she knew who I was. But she knew who I was! She wasn't supposed to know both of me, no one was! And without thinking it through, without thinking about how stupid it sounded, I did the first thing that came to mind: I lied. "I don't know what you're talking about." "I knew you were gonna say that," Blossom laughed. "I mean, that's what anyone would say, right? I think that's what I'd say too, 'cause I think we think all deniability is plausible until it isn't, and it definitely isn't right now." Blossom was rocking gently in her seat. Mia Moore was shorter than she was, enough so that even when sitting the difference was pretty clear. But even though she was taller, Blossom felt a lot like a kid on Christmas morning. Of all the munches in all the cities in all the world… had Blossom really been going to school with Mia Moore her whole damn life? "I'm so excited right now, I can't even. I mean, look - I'm shaking." She held up her hand to show her trembling fingers. I sunk further into my chair and felt my face get hot. No one was ever so excited to see me, and Blossom Brixley of all people... it was a dream. I was dreaming. Then a thought occurred to me, one that should have occurred to me a lot earlier. Why was Blossom at that munch anyway? And why did she know about my writing? There wasn't any chance that she... No, it was a prank. Ugh, this was so like her. Now what? She tells everyone in school about me? Her and her stupid sorority sisters laugh behind my back? The heat on my face became that of anger rather than that of embarrassment, and I balled my hands at my sides. "This isn't funny," I told her sharply, but tears were forming in my eyes. I always cried when I got angry. "Of course it's not funny, why would it be funny? I'm basically confessing a pretty personal thing about me to you, so I hope it's not funny..." Blossom had a legendary pout - it was a leftover from her mousey middle school days of frumpiness and unhappiness. On her current-day self, it was cute as heck and usually meant people let her have her way. Today, she pouted because meeting her literary hero was already a pretty stressful thing and... and oh no. "Oh no no, please don't cry! No no, I've got tissues in..." Her voice trailed off as she dug through her purse looking for the little pack of tissues. "...somewhere in here... I think? I think, I mean, I should..." "I'm not crying," I said under my breath, reaching up and rubbing my eyes with the palms of my hands. When I was done, my glasses fell in place on my nose and I looked up at Blossom again. She looked... worried. Either I was barking up the wrong tree, or she was a very good actress. The actress thing was more likely. She passed me a tissue from her purse all the same and I took it. I held it idly in my lap. "Are you okay? I'm sorry I didn't mean to overwhelm you, or whatever; I was just super duper excited because I've been reading your stuff since last year, and I had no idea you were.. you know? You? I thought Mia Moore lived... well I dunno, but I didn't think I went to school with her. With you, I mean." The fact they were in public was no deterrence to Blossom; she had a pride and confidence that was unshakable in almost all situations. But meeting Mia Moore? It was apparently her kryptonite. "This is probably super duper weird and like... parasocial, for you, right? Sheesh, I'm sorry, I'm being a total dweeb." "No, I..." Damnit, she seemed so genuine. But I'd been fooled by that act before. She was friends with my neighbor - Diana - until she found out Diana still slept with her old baby blanket. Everyone at school teased Diana for months. If this was real, the poetic irony was too coincidental for me. Was all this too coincidental? Seeing her at that munch? Both of us taking the same train home? Her knowing I wrote stories online? And the content of those stories... it was a lot worse than a baby blanket. I was alight with anxiety. Adrenaline. A need to run. Or what if she was telling the truth? What if someone actually liked what I wrote? What if this wasn't a sick joke? What if Blossom was opening up to me? How naive would I have to be to believe that? How monstrous would I have to be to believe otherwise? I felt like I was going to pass out... "It's just... hard to believe," I admitted, telling the truth this time. "I mean, you're... you. I don't know why you would... I mean..." "Oh, I know, I know. People think just because I'm this tall blonde girl who dresses nice that the idea of me reading is just so wild, but lemme tell you this much, little miss: I didn't get a four-oh in college so far by not being a reader. I read a lot of stuff, although a lot of what people say is good writing is just awful. Like why do people get so hung up on Tolkien? Or Frank Herbert? It's so... boring. It's like they're freshmen just writing for a word count, you know?" Blossom definitely didn't expect to launch into a tangent on literature, but she was nervous. "Uh... I guess so." I think it was more a differentiation of period norms, but sure. I could see where she was coming from. Though that wasn't really the point I was trying to make. "I meant like... that you would read... uh... niche literature." Porn. I could just say porn. But that felt too direct. I still didn't trust her. Would I ever be able to trust her? "I mean, a lot of it is really bad… if I read another story about 'Oh no, my Mom caught me and now yadda yadda yadda' I think I might lose enough brain cells that I won't need to bleach my hair anymore. And yes, I know that's a bad stereotype but I'm allowed to make it because I'm basic." Blossom smiled, quite pleased with herself. If only she'd had a PSL in her hand. "But your stories are so smart! And like, your writing is legit good. Not even, it's legit amazing." "Uh... thank you..." How was I having this conversation with Blossom Brixley? What parallel dimension had I fallen into? Was a twelve-foot Amazon going to walk into our train car? And as with any dream, once I realized it was a dream, sometimes I didn't want to wake up. If this dream kept going like this, I didn't really want to wake up either. "So... you've read... all of them?" Was I testing her? "Which one is your favorite?" And why! And what parts did she like! And who was her favorite character! Ugh, the neediness of a writer... or was it a praise kink? Same thing, in my line of work. Oh! This was like one of those 'oh you like Star Wars? Name 9 movies then' tests! Blossom made it a point to know just a few choice pieces of obscure trivia because she liked to shut exclusionary boys down when they tried to gate-keep her friends, but this was the first time she'd actually been quizzed on something she was passionate about. "I'm up to date! I think T is my favorite because I love that 'other side of the fall' stuff and authors don't really cover that much. But I think B is definitely the hottest. Like the stuff with Bala - is that how you pronounce it? Bala? That's how I've been saying it. But when her dreams start to change... wow..." Blossom fanned herself with her hand and smiled, which only made her blush. Well, she clearly knew what she was talking about. She could have read through all my stuff just to torture me, but she would have had to know about it before the munch. There was no way she read through four and a half stories before the train came. I felt my muscles start to relax, in a 'less anxious' kind of way, not a 'start of a story' kind of way. "Yeah, I think T is a lot of people's favorite. It's very... wish fulfillment? I dunno." I looked around the train car; the evening sun had fallen behind the horizon and the lights on the ceiling were working harder than before. There were a few other groups of people nearby, but half of them were nodding off in their chairs. One kid was playing a game on his Nintendo Switch and an old guy in the back looked at his laptop screen through half-moon eyeglasses. For all intents and purposes, Blossom and I were alone... if we kept our voices down. "I think it's because it's like... okay, so at first it's this whole Stepford Wives thing, like a creepypasta or something, and then it's also got hints of a Dimension story in this whole 'normalized worldspace' thing." Blossom even made air-quotes when she said that. "At the start, Talita's still got this kind of resistance, but not really. And the idea of losing the ability to count or read? It's like that one post Daisy Fingers made when someone was like 'would you wanna be Bun?' and she's like 'sometimes, but then the idea of not actually being able to read or write or do basic things has a reality side that's actually pretty scary, so no'. That's basically how it is with T: it's wish fulfillment, but would I really want that?" Blossom paused, put one finger to her perfectly glossed lips in thought, and then nodded. "Yeah, probably," she laughed brightly. "Huh..." Yeah, Blossom had a point. Would I want that, if it was offered to me? Probably not. I sat up a little and pulled one foot up onto the chair with me, getting comfortable.

Character list: Kayla (17) – a spoiled teenager. She is 5’4 120, has spiral permed blond hair, she’s hot and she knows it. Kayla is in her gang with Rachel and Debbie. They bully the other kids, and the teachers often report them. Fred (42) Kayla’s father - a busy company manager. He is the CEO of a biological research and development institute. Two years ago, he got divorced when his wife left him. Since then, he’s been raising Kayla alone. Kayla insisted on staying with him. She had much more freedom while her father was at work. Annie (32) – Fred’s girlfriend. She moved to him and Kayla shortly ago and noticed Kayla’s behavior and decided to teach her a lesson. Annie is a PE teacher and trainer, physically strong and muscular 6’1, 190, blonde hair and blue eyes. ------------ “Fred! Kayla definitely needs a lesson, read the letter from the headmaster,” Annie was sitting in the living room and reading the letter. Dear Mr. Woods, The behavior of your daughter Kayla is inacceptable. Her last mischief has crossed all lines. She and her schoolmates Rachel and Debbie forced a younger girl to dress like a baby and go to the class. The girl’s parents require an instant reaction. We consider expelling all three sinners unless proper corrective measures will be taken. Sincerely yours Samuel Raid, headmaster Fred took the letter and read it repeatedly. He realized he didn’t have time to tend to Kayla. “Annie, I’m sorry I’ve been busy all the time,” he sighed deeply. “If you don’t mind it, I have an idea,” Annie grinned; while reading the letter, she got that idea. They waited for Kayla until she arrived home. They guessed she was outside with Rachel and Debbie.

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.

It's been quite a while since I've written anything, and that's because I've been very busy, both with work and with this. Classified: A New Life, and Classified: Stellar Remnants were my proofs-of-concept for the idea that became this universe, so there will be a lot of familiar elements. However, after refining my worldbuilding, I've ended up with a lot more than I originally planned for, although it still takes place in an alternate/parallel universe. The worldbuilding document is almost 300 pages long, and includes everything from a creation myth and a religion with various sects and interpretations, to an explanation of medicines, disorders, law, and technology. The scope has expanded considerably, so there is a lot of room to play in the sandbox if anyone happens to be interested. I left many things deliberately ambiguous in the original works, both because I wanted to allow for creative freedom, and because I personally hadn't refined my ideas enough to avoid contradicting myself by accident. This is something I hope to be able to publish at some point in the future, but I must say that if you're looking for sexual elements, this probably isn't for you as I don't particularly enjoy writing about that sort of thing. Chrysalis in particular has changed a lot, and I hope you all enjoy the new changes. Things will be explained as we go along organically to the best of my ability. This is a rough draft, and I haven't finished writing it yet, but I'm reasonably far along. I hope you enjoy the story! EMRD (Energy Management/Regulation Disorder): Excessive worry and physiological anxiety responses; can also refer to metabolic energy regulation issues (context-dependent) Smartband: The universal communication and monitoring device worn by most people. It can be modified specifically for Littles ____________________________________ Maya Weston paws blindly at her left wrist, successfully silencing her alarm on the third try. She lets out a heavy sigh and forces herself out of bed, blearily scrolling on her Smartband to check the timetables for the autobus. The soft blue text displays: On-Time. Thank Esvyra for small mercies. Maya thinks, pulling on a well-loved sweater and her least-worn pair of jeans. It’s not business-casual, but it’s all she’s got. She heads to the bathroom to brush her teeth and does her best to make herself look presentable and professional. She thumbs on her aging holoscreen for background noise. Stat, her Smartband’s onboard AI recites the weather forecast. Maya is unsurprised at the varying forecast, given Southgate’s proximity to the mountains. Her thick brown hair is uncooperative as it usually is in the morning and she opts for a ponytail rather than taking the time to brush it out. Her next stop is the fridge, where finds a lone nutribar and the rest of last night’s vegetable wrap. Maya takes the nutribar and puts the wrap into her bag to have for lunch at work, planning to stop on the way home for some cheap noodles or some—ugh—a mystery wrap from the vendor if she’s desperate enough. This isn’t the life she would have imagined for herself, but after growing up as a Lightbearer...even this, even though it’s less-than-perfect, is better than living like that. For once, she’s grateful that she doesn’t have a smart-fridge—a smart anything really, other than her band—because at least then it can’t nag her to spend Coin she doesn’t have on food she can’t afford. She wolfs down the nutribar and washes down her EMRD medication with a swig of water before brushing her teeth and heading for the door. Maya checks her account as she locks up, seeing the notification on her Smartband tick over from Rent Due: 3 days remaining to Rent Due: 2 days remaining and, as if by some cruel irony, there’s still no paycheck. Her internship at BioHealth is the best job she’s ever had—or it would be, if they’d bothered to actually pay her like her contract had stated. At first, she’d thought that maybe it was just a clerical error, but her repeated attempts to reach HR to find out what’s been going on have been stymied. She’d tried submitting tickets, escalating those tickets, and even trying to schedule a meeting with HR in-person, but she hasn’t had any luck so far. She sighs and heads for the stairs, hoping no one creepy is at the autobus stop this morning. She barely notices the broken cleaning drone anymore as she passes by, it’s been at the end of the hallway, covered in dust and lilting in its charging cradle since she moved in. The security system doesn’t work, the building is falling apart, and in this neighborhood, expecting the police to do anything is a chanceroller at best. At the very least, her job at least gets her out of her tiny apartment. Anticipatory anxiety ties her stomach in an uncomfortable knot as she waits in the chilly morning air, the deserted autobus terminal lit only by the glow of the arrival and departure displays and a lone sodium streetlight. A discarded paper cup from some fast-food place tumbles along the sidewalk, fetching up against the overflowing and graffiti’d trash can. Maya breathes a sigh of relief the autobus rolls to a gentle stop in front of her, kneeling with a hiss of compressed air and emitting a pleasant: “Welcome aboard, please watch your step. Thank you for choosing Breezeway autobus services. Most anywhere, we’ll get you there.” Maya smiles softly, the little jingle they play has always been catchy. She holds her ID up to the reader and selects her destination, the fare automatically being deducted from her account’s already-meager funds. The air on the autobus is pleasant and refreshing, it smells faintly of leather and some kind of citrus-scented cleaning agent. It’s a nice change from the stale air that permeates the hallways of her apartment building. The buildings outside the window get progressively nicer as the autobus heads closer to downtown, the beating heart of Southgate’s financial and industrial districts. Bars and anti-theft mesh melt away into pristine glass windows, graffiti-free brick facades, and clean sidewalks. Clean, energy-efficient streetlamps light the autobus’ path, a welcome shift from the dull glow of the sodium lights in Northview. The BioHealth headquarters stands tall among the surrounding buildings, its polished glass exterior reflecting the early morning sun in a scintillating shade of vermillion. The fountain out front is intricate and impressive, with a beautiful urn sculpture in the center, depticting Esvyra tending Her garden. It’s something Maya has always found soothing and she’s glad the campus looks quiet this morning as the autobus pulls into the terminal across the street from the building. Maya exits the autobus, checking her Smartband for the time and she is pleased to see that she’s arrived twenty minutes early. Hopefully that will give her enough time to sort out the payroll issue before she’s due to start her shift in the Research and Development lab. BioHealth makes a variety of products for all Classifications, mostly medical supplies although Maya’s current project is a prototype from a client looking to start a line of premium diapers and clothes for Littles. Maya herself has always had very specific preferences about texture for her clothing, so it’s nice to be able to channel that into something meaningful. The lobby of BioHealth is enormous and refined, with an enormous wall fountain along the entire right side of the lobby. The golden plating behind the flowing water is inlaid with a beautifully intricate vine design, and the water circulates into planters that hold gorgeous red roses. The massive windows above the entrance are designed to let in natural light, making the lobby a beautiful and inviting place to be. Blinking, Maya turns her focus to the left side of the lobby, where the HR office is located. It’s dark right now, as they don’t normally come in until 09:00, but she heads over to the terminal anyway to check the status of her ticket about her pay. She swipes her badge to log in to the interface and frowns. Access denied. User credentials expired. Please contact your system administrator for reset. Maya swipes her badge again, her heart pounding. What did I do? I’ve never been late or reprimanded, or anything. Did they...did they fire me without notice? I didn’t do anything wrong...Her stomach churns, her Smartband feels like it weighs a ton as the memory of the notice from this morning plays again in her mind. Rent Due: 2 days remaining. Access Denied. User credentials expired. Please contact your system administrator for reset. Oh no...Maya takes a shaky breath, trying to both calm her racing heart and also not throw up on the nice lobby floor. “S-Simon? Are you there?” Maya says quietly, pressing the “help” button in the corner to summon the AI that handles HR requests when HR isn’t available. “Good morning, miss Weston. How may I help you?” The AI responds in a friendly voice, as a holographic display fades in behind the reception desk to display the AI’s avatar. “I’m locked out. Have—” Maya swallows hard, barely able to think the words, let alone to say them aloud. “have I been, um, terminated?” “Negative. Your credentials are expired, but your employment status is active with no pending disciplinary actions or performance reviews.” Simon replies helpfully. Maya braces herself against the reception desk to avoid collapsing when her knees threaten to give out from sheer relief. “Oh, good!” she gushes. “Um, can you fix my logins so I can see what tasks I have for the day? And has there been any response to my payroll request?” “Negative. I do not have access to those systems. My capabilities are limited to scheduling appointments and drafting emails or submitting tickets. My apologies. And I’m sorry to inform you that there has not been any response to your request.” Simon answers, helpful as always. “Is...Is Director Saphrin available? It’s really urgent.” Maya wonders, feeling a bit lightheaded at approaching Director Saphrin about, well, anything, but especially something that should technically be fixable without her help is more than a little daunting. But being homeless is considerably scarier... “She has a meeting that should be over shortly, but I’ve given you a temporary visitor’s pass so you may use the elevator to attempt to speak with her.” “Thank you, Simon.” Maya replies gratefully. “You’re most welcome. Goodbye for now!” Simon responds, and the avatar fades away as the AI...well...goes to do whatever it is that AIs do in their free time. Maya smooths her shirt and jeans as she steps into the elevator and presses the button for the executive suites. She forces herself to take deep breaths as her Smartband vibrates: elevated heart rate; elevated blood pressure “Thanks, Stat,” Maya grumbles. The elevator doors open to a reception area that seems almost...homey. The floor is carpeted by a plush material, and there’s a fish tank set into a smaller version of the vine fountain from downstairs in front of her. To her right is a desk, where a man in an immaculate suit with slicked back hair. A short black beard, dark skin, and a shaved head. His brown eyes are warm, but intense. “Good morning, Maya, what brings you up today?” he asks pleasantly. Maya blinks. “You know my name?” The man smiles. “Of course, Director Saphrin speaks very highly of your work. I’m Nick Farrel, but you can call me Nick.” “It’s nice to meet you Mr. Farrel,” Maya says with a strained kind of cheerfulness. “Um, to answer your question, I, uh, I’m locked out of the system. Simon says he can’t perform a reset, and HR doesn’t get in until 9...and there’s an issue with payroll that hasn’t been resolved in three weeks, and rent is due in two days and—” Maya stops herself, taking a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m rambling.” Nick’s eyebrows draw together. “Three weeks? Have you not been paid at all in that time?” Maya shakes her head. “No, Mr. Farrel. I tried submitting tickets and setting appointments, but I haven’t gotten any responses...I was planning to check that this morning, but I can’t login to the system.” she explains. “I’m sure the Director will be more than happy to help you out. It sounds like several people are neglecting their duties. She should be wrapping up shortly, but I’ve sent her a message to let her know you’re waiting out here.” Nick gestures to a nearby sofa next to an oko machine. “We’ve got roasted oko and sweet oko if that’s more to your taste. It even makes whips and combiccinos.” Maya settles onto the couch to wait—it’s comfier than her bed—and folds her hands patiently in her lap. She makes herself a small cup of sweet oko, as the roasted kind has always been far too bitter for her taste. It’s rich and indulgent, and it fills her with a pleasant warmth as it settles in her stomach. No sooner has she finished her drink and disposed of the used cup than Director Saphrin’s door slides open. Director Saphrin is dressed in a deep blue pantsuit with a crisply-ironed white shirt beneath it and tasteful black shoes. She’s not one to wear much jewelry as far as Maya can tell from the few times she’s seen the woman around the building, and today is no different. Her jet black hair is pinned up in a tasteful bun, and the only jewelry she wears is her Smartband and a pair of diamond stud earrings. Her perfume drifts over, a gentle mix of mint and vanilla. “Good morning, Nick.” She says softly before turning her attention to Maya, her brown eyes attentive. “Good morning, Maya. Nick said you needed my help with something, would you like to step into my office for a bit so we can talk?” her voice is firm, but calm, with a softness that Maya has never known it to have. “Yes ma’am.” Maya answers, standing. “Thank you for the oko,” she says to Nick, who simply smiles. “Sure thing.” The Director’s office is luxurious, but not opulent, with a few live plants and a small wall fountain opposite the corner where the windows meet, overlooking the city. It’s tasteful but not gaudy, and the desk and chairs look comfortable, but not obscenely expensive. Still, the genuine hearthwood desk probably costs more per ounce than Maya makes in a month, she reflects... “Have a seat,” The Director says, settling easily into her own chair across the desk from Maya and waving away the holo-display. “What can I do for you?” “I, um, I’ve been locked out of the system, ma’am. I asked Simon for help downstairs, but he said he doesn’t have the ability to reset my credentials. He also said that I haven’t been flagged for any discipline or reviews.” “That’s...very strange. There’s no reason the system should have locked you out of anything, especially with no flags. That would have had to have been done manually. And please, when it’s just us, call me Meekah. Being called ‘ma’am’ makes me feel old.” Meekah says, smiling gently. “I can fix that right now, but I’ll be having a word with HR about this. Is there anything else you need?” “Well, I don’t mean to be a bother or anything, but I’ve tried talking to HR and I think they’re avoiding me...all the tickets I’ve submitted or appointments I’ve tried to make just get marked ‘resolved’ or canceled. My internship was supposed to be a paid position, but...I haven’t actually been paid at all yet. It’s been three weeks since I’ve started, and rent is due in two days and I know I’m not dressed appropriately for work but I promise I’ll—” “Maya.” Meekah says, her voice calm but firm. “Take a breath.” She waits patiently. Maya does, breathing out slowly and evenly, and then does it again. “Good. I’m really not concerned about your attire right now. Your clothes are clean and presentable and that’s good enough for the moment. What I am concerned about is the fact that you haven’t been paid. That’s absolutely inexcusable and there’s no reason whatsoever for that to have happened. I will be having a meeting with HR as soon as they arrive and you will have your back-pay before you leave to go home today.” Meekah taps a few things on her display and there’s a low hum, a click, and then Meekah is handing Maya a black and gold card. “Thank you so much for your help ma’am. I was so worried...” Maya gushes, feeling genuine relief for the first time that she can recall in recent memory. “What’s this?” Meekah smiles gently. “You don’t have to thank me, Maya. You’re entitled to your pay, that’s literally in the the contract you and my company signed, and I’m sorry that hasn’t been honored. There’s 5,000 Coin on that chip, separate from your pay from HR. Please consider it a bonus for all this inconvenience and use it for anything you need.” 5,000 Coin?! It’s more money than Maya has every seen in one place before, and Meekah’s just...handed it to her like it’s nothing. “This is too much! I can’t t take all of this...” Maya’s eyes well with tears; she’s completely overwhelmed by Meekah’s generosity. “You can. As a matter of fact, I insist that you do.” Meekah pauses to hand Maya a tissue. Maya blots at her face. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess. No one has ever done anything like this for me before.” “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for, Maya. You were put in a terrible position as a direct result of my employees incompetence, at best and deliberate malice at worst. No one should have to deal with being treated that way. Please, just let me help, to put my own mind at ease if not for yourself. You’re an incredible employee, Maya. You’re an asset to the company, and I don’t want you to feel like you’re not appreciated or valued. It’s been a privilege to be able to watch you develop, and I hope you’ll be able to look past this incident and continue working for us. I’d like to offer you a formal position as a Product Design Specialist. This situation should have never happened in the first place.” “I...I accept.” Maya says, barely able to speak past the lump in her throat. “Thank you, ma’am.” Maya says, her cheeks warming. “It’s alright, mistakes happen.” “It’s not alright, Maya. I’m impressed by your willingness to forgive, but personally I’m not willing to let something like this slide for any of my employees, least of all someone who does some of the best work at this company. And I promise I’ll make it right for you.” Meekah says earnestly. Maya doesn’t know what to say, so she just nods. “Thank you...so much.” she says finally. “I’ve reset your credentials, you’ll have to make a new password, but you shouldn’t have any more issues and I’ve locked your files so any changes to status will have to be approved by me first. You don’t need to worry about that ever happening again. And you’ll get an official offer letter to sign in your employee portal later, your new position comes with a substantial raise and profit sharing as well. In the meantime,” Meekah checks her Smartband. “I have a meeting to schedule with HR, and I believe you have some things to do as well. You can message me on the portal whenever you need something, but for now, I need to get this meeting set up.” Maya nods. “Of course, I understand. And thank you...for everything.” She says as she turns to leave, feeling something dangerously like hope building in her chest. Maybe for once, things will turn out okay. *** Or not. Maya’s absorbed in her work—Jenkins is a wizard with blends, but not proportions and the mix of synthetic to natural fabric is way too...wrong. It’s scratchy, but in a sticks-to-your-fingers-and-is-really-uncomfortable sort of way, not scratchy like rough, or even necessarily itchy either. She frowns and highlights the areas that need adjusting. There needs to be more room in the butt area, if the wearer has a thick diaper on or is wearing lots of layers, it’ll be stiff and too squeezy...Maya makes a face, wrinkling her nose in distaste at the idea of that sensation, even though she doesn’t wear diapers, clothes that are too tight feel kind of...suffocating. The straps of the overalls are also slightly too short, which would also make it the wrong kind of snug—comfy clothes should feel like being hugged, not squeezed so tightly you can’t breathe....And the elastic bands in the built-in diaper cover shouldn’t be that close together, it’ll be pinchy on the wearers thighs in an area that’s already really sensitive...Maybe we could just scrap that entirely? No need to make the Caregiver’s job any harder for changes, and it’s already got the mag-snaps, so everything’s discreet without the elastic... Maya frowns thoughtfully, making more annotations and manipulating the holographic model, and recommending a blend of extra-spun fleece and down for the inside. She pauses to go back and edit her notes to be more professional-sounding before sending them back to Jenkins for review. Personally, she doesn’t understand what’s wrong with using ‘pinchy’ or ‘squeezy’ to describe something, since that’s how it actually feels, but after more than one of the other design specialists have commented that her notes ‘sounded like something their kid sister would say’, maybe it’s better to jazz it up a bit. Why sounding like that is bad when it’s just notes, Maya can’t fathom, but being made fun of is kind of miserable if she’s being honest. Maya’s just finished her notes when her tablet chimes loudly, causing her to flinch. Thorns! I really need to change the alert tone... Maya thinks, before picking up the tablet and reading her messages. It’s Meekah, requesting her to come to the conference room for a meeting. She swallows hard, gathering her courage, and heads for the elevator. Maya’s heart drops into her stomach as she approaches the door to the conference room, Meekah sounds really upset... “Do not lecture me on procedure, Janit. Who do you think wrote the policy in the first place?” Meekah’s voice has a cold, venomous edge to it and it makes Maya hesitate before she pushes open the door. Meekah looks at her, eyes softening for a moment as she uses them to indicate Maya should sit next to her. Maya does, already feeling tense and nauseous. She can’t even bring herself to make eye contact with Janit, but she can feel the anger rolling off the woman in waves. The woman is dressed professionally, with too-much lipstick and her nails painted an awful, garish shade of red. Her earrings are too big and the wrong color to complement her fake tan, and her green eyes are cold as Maya inevitably looks at her. Maya sits down, trembling. “Thank you for joining us, Maya.” Meekah says. “I meant no offense. I was simply stating that when people don’t follow the proper procedure, it makes it very difficult to accomplish necessary tasks. Perhaps she just forgot?” “Excuse me? I had IT pull the logs Janit, don’t you dare—” And that’s all Maya hears of Meekah’s sentence before the ringing in her ears drowns the rest of it out. Maya is five years old again, tears dripping off her chin as the side of her face flares with pain, stinging and smarting from the slap she’s just received. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Maya!” Her mother shouts. Another slap. Maya whimpers. “And stop your crying! You just want me to feel bad for you so you can get out of trouble. Keep it up, and I’ll give you something to cry about! You know Esvyra wouldn’t like you getting involved in such selfish things. And now you’ve made her sad, and the other Lightbearer kids in your class saw too! Do you want the congregation to think you’re ‘corrupting association’? What about your father? Do you want him to have to stop being a Tender because you can’t be a good girl?” “No...” Maya says pitifully. “And you had an accident on top of it all! In first grade and still peeing your pants, unbelievable!” “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...” Maya says honestly. “I don’t want to hear it.” Her mother replies. “Go take a bath and change your clothes. We’re having dinner soon. And you’d better pray and tell the Gods you’re sorry or they won’t want to be your friends anymore because you hurt their feelings by being bad. I love you, but you need to think about how things look to other people, and what the Gods want you to do.” “Okay...I love you too...” Maya turns heads to the stairs, looking back only once. I didn’t even want the cake that much...she thinks...I just didn’t want to be left out. I don’t like being made fun of ‘cause I’m different... “Hurry up please, Maya. I want us to all eat together.” Maya flinches, instinctively expecting another slap, even though her mother is across the room. “And don’t flinch like that. I’m not going to hurt you.” her mother says, like she’s being silly at a bad time. “Sorry. I’m going.” Maya says, and begins climbing the stairs, feeling confused, alone, and ashamed. “—unacceptable. I will not have my employees victimized by your lack of attention to your responsibilities, be it through negligence, incompetence, or malice. Let me be absolutely crystal clear, Janit. IT and myself will be reviewing all employee records from the last six months to ensure accuracy of payroll and benefits. Your access to employee files has been revoked, except for what you need to do your job. Until the audit is complete, all changes to payroll and employee credentials go through me, and me alone. If it is discovered that you or anyone else under your supervision purposefully altered credentials or withheld pay, this entire department will be restructured, and responsible parties will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law.” Maya blinks, hoping her spacing out hasn’t been too obvious and trying to discreetly scrub at her eyes, her face damp. Meekah’s foot gently nudges against hers, grounding Maya in the present. “I understand.” Janit says, tight-lipped, glaring at Maya. “I shouldn’t have to remind someone in your position of this, but I expect that Maya will receive an appropriately contrite, sincere, and professional apology. And I’ll need your admin chip until the investigation is concluded.” Meekah says, and the grim set of her jaw is equal parts unyielding and predatory, like a lion cornering a wounded animal. Maya looks at the table, losing herself in the swirling patterns of the wood grains and wishing to be literally anywhere else. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I’m sure it was just a mistake—” she says, almost automatically, not looking up at either of the women in the room. “I understand that, Maya, and I appreciate you trying to be a team player and give the benefit of the doubt. I however, am not convinced this wasn’t done deliberately, so the investigation will proceed as planned. You come to work and do your job to the best of your ability every day, and it is only fair to hold others to the same standard. A mistake has been made that could easily have been avoided, and it’s important that we make sure that no one else has been dealing with similar issues. We all come to work to get paid, so I need to make sure that’s happening as it should.” Meekah says, her voice firm, but without the venomous edge. When she speaks again, it’s back. “Janit. Your chip.” Janit all but slams the small card on the table. She looks at Maya in a way that reminds Maya of her mother when she says: “My sincerest apologies for any inconvenience you may have been caused. It won’t happen again, Maya.” You don’t sound sorry...Maya thinks, feeling almost like she’s just been told to jump off a cliff instead of apologized to. She feels cold and looks back at Meekah, and then at the table. Meekah’s brows draw together, but she doesn’t comment on it other than to say: “That will be all. Nick will be in touch with next steps. You’re dismissed.” Janit stalks out of the room, staring Maya down the whole way, her green eyes cold and piercing. “Are you okay?” Meekah asks, once the door slides closed again. Maya’s eyes well with tears again. She feels drained and too hot and this is all her fault and— “Maya, honey—” “Don’t!” Maya says, in a voice that sounds like someone else’s, bitter and angry and sharp. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so upset. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I’m sorry. I know you were just trying to be nice to me.” Maya says, more to the table than to Meekah. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Maya. Nothing, do you understand me? None of this is your fault, and I’m not upset with you at all. This was clearly very difficult for you and you did very well. You should be proud of yourself.” Meekah’s voice reminds Maya of herself when she’s trying not to cry. “Kind of? I don’t know. I don’t feel very good.” Maya admits, finally looking at Meekah, seeing a gaze that’s just a bit too shiny for just a moment before Meekah’s normal expression is back. “It’s okay to not know. Do you want to go home for the day? With pay, of course. I can tell this was a lot for you.” “I...I don’t want to go home...” Maya says, because that would mean being alone with her thoughts. “Okay. Why don’t you take a few minutes for yourself, okay? And if you change your mind about going home later it’s not a problem, just let me know. You did a good job, Maya. Really. I have to get to my next meeting, but you know how to reach me if you need anything.” Meekah says gently, lingering for a moment before leaving Maya alone with her thoughts. Maya collects herself for a few minutes, getting up only when she’s sure she isn’t going to be sick all over the super-expensive-looking carpet. She almost runs straight into Sydney on her way back to the lab, only half paying attention to where she’s going. “Oh, hey...Maya?” her friend's voice is full of concern, and she’s taking Maya by the shoulders and and guiding her into a side hallway. “Sweetie? What’s wrong? You look awful! What happened?” “I’m okay...I’m fine...I’m okay...” Maya replies, her cheeks wet before she can even really register that she’s crying, tears dripping off her chin in big, fat drops. She wants to throw up, her entire body shaking with the force of her sobs. Warm arms wrap around her, a gentle hand rubs her back while another gently presses her head into Sydney’s chest. “Oh, sweetheart...it’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” Sydney’s voice is thick with emotion. Maya clings to Sydney, trembling, afraid of falling apart without her. Sydney is warm and safe and she smells like spice and clean laundry. “Shh...” Sydney whispers, swaying them gently. Maya can’t remember the last time anyone hugged her like this. She can’t remember the last time she was hugged at all.

My background: I’m sporty and athletic in real life. One secret I have that nobody knows about is I’m a lifelong diaper lover. I remember when I was younger making lots of makeshift nappies (I’m from England so its nappies over Diapers) and my younger cousin who used to come over used to wear pull ups, I used to be really jealous of her and steal her mini mouse pull ups 😅 Story Background: This is 100% a true story which happened to me a few years ago when I was 23 in the hospital. I was going in for routine Hernia surgery, it was supposed to be a day procedure or 1 night stay depending on how I felt after the surgery but due to a few minor complications and events I ended up in the hospital for 4 nights. I hope you enjoy how this story unfolds it was a dream come true for me but also fulfilled with embrassment. FYI I’m not a great writer and not great with words so I do apologise if my storys bad to follow. Chapter 1: Arriving at hospital day of the surgrey After being on NHS waiting list for 2 years it was finally time to get my hernia surgery. I was excited to finally get my hernia repaired as it has held me back with a lot of my sporting activities this past few years. I arrived at the hospital and I brought my overnight bag. On the pre op assessment they told me that if I get my surgrey early that morning I should be eligble for day release which I definitely preferred but they said be prepared to have to stay one night so I brought my overnight bag. I arrived at the hospital and the letter said to go straight up to the ward, it was the surgical ward. I was waiting outside the door for quite a while at surgical ward before nurse spotted me and buzzed the door to let me into the ward. I showed her my referral letter and she was very nice and she pointed me up to the desk. Once I arrived at the ward desk there was 6 nurses behind the desk and the receptionist. I thought it was unusual for all the nurses to be sitting behind desk but it was first thing in the morning so their shifts had likely just started they where all either chatting or writing notes into a clipboard. All of the nurses was very attractive two looked older than me I would say one was mid 30s and other early 40s. The other nurses looked similar age to me around 25 and I seen one was a student nurse she looked younger. One of the girls was blonde and she was beautiful I saw her name was Shannon. She gave me a smile and said can I take a look at your letter and then she goes ahh Jack your rooms just down here let me show you and she led me down to which was believe it or not room 1 on a 30 room ward. Once I arrived she said she had to do a covid test first before they proceeded on. (This was 2023 year of my surgrey so covid tests where still relevant especially in hospital settings). She came back shortly with the test and put the swab up my nose and swirled it around. I always hated getting tests in my nose and it made my eyes water. After the covid test was taken she said she’ll be back in half an hour once the test was finished and to make myself comfortable and unpack. As I was unpacking Shannon came back 30 minutes later and said everything was fine with my COVID test. She then handed me a questionnaire to fill out in meantime and said she would be back shortly to explain details about my surgrey. I was filling out the questionnaire and it was general questions like medical history, any allergies, high blood pressure etc general standard questions except when I came to a tick box, day time incontinence, night time incontinence or both. Being a life long diaper lover this question sparked my interest. I mulled over what to do and I finished the rest of the questionnaire before coming back to incontinence question, I gave it some thought as I didn’t know what to do as my parents would be collecting me from the surgrey and if it was the next morning I don’t want them finding anything out. A rush of blood went to my head and I said “Fuck it” and ticked “Night Time Incontinence” and I set the clipboard down before I tried to change anything. It was only a few moments after I set the clipboard down Shannon came into my room again and asked me how I was getting on with the questionnaire. I told her I was all done. She passed me my surgical gown and said to me that I would need to put this on before surgrey, and due to where surgrey was she said you’ll have to remove your underwear, she said we do have these disposable underwear but you don’t have to wear them most male patients choose not to, and i held up the disposable underwear and they looked like skimpy womens panties and we both looked at each other and laughed and I said I don’t think I will be wearing these and we both laughed. She said she will give me a 30 minute heads up to get changed before surgrey into my surgrey clothes and not to worry. I said thats great and as she was leaving she picked up the clipboard and said she will give this to the surgeon have I everything filled out and I replied that I think so. Giving my response she started scanning through the questionnaire, I could see her pupils dialate as she was reading down you could see it in her face but she was really professional and passed no remarks. I knew it was at nightime incontinence one, and I could feel my cheeks burning red with embrassment. But she never said a thing she just replied everything looks great Jack I will give this to the surgeon, just sit tight and I’ll give you a heads up when your surgrey is near. I tried to keep myself busy in between times scrolling on tiktok, Netflix looking at diaper girl stories on tumblr etc anything to try keep me busy. It had passed and it was now 4pm. I was thinking am I ever going to get this surgrey. I was a bit nervous regarding the surgrey so I was keen to get it out of the way. Shortly after 4pm one of the nurses called Laura came into help. She was around 35 and she was on of the Nursing Auxiliarys on. She had been in a couple of times to chat during the day and we had gotten along really well. She came in and said I have bad and good news for you. I looked at her and said well then start with the bad. She said okay your surgreys not happening until the tomorrow morning, there was a couple of emergency surgeries had to be performed today unfortunately but the surgeons taking you first thing at 9am tomorrow morning, I looked at her and said okay and now for the good news. She smiled trying to cheer me up and goes the good news is I get to take your order for your free dinner and bed and breakfast. I looked at her and smiled to as I knew she was just trying to cheer me up. I looked at the sheet and I ordered shepards pie and porridge for breakfast. She told me dinners around 6pm. I used this as a good time to text my mum and dad and to tell them what happened, they where asking did I want them to come for evening visiting time and I told them not to worry its just one night I’ll get caught up on some netflix series on my iPad. This seemed to put them at ease. Shortly after dinner (which wasn’t the best) I got a bit bored. Having not had my surgrey yet I was obviously as mobile and quite capable. Shannon came in I hadn’t seen her in quite a while. I asked her if I could go stretch my legs outside the hospital and go to the hospital shop. She said normally patients aren’t allowed to without supervision but in these circumstances she said she doesn’t think it will matter. She told me when I come back to buzz the door and someone will open it. I left the ward and was delighted to be out walking about 12 hours in one room was enough. I walked around the outside of the hospital for around an hour I covered a right few steps. On my way back in front entrance the hospital shop was there. I decided to go get something in the shop as I was hungry for I didnt eat a lot of the shepards pie for dinner. I purchased a bottle of BPM, Haribo Starmix and a packet of Quavers Cheese. As I was making my way up to the ward I wondered was I going to be allowed to bring in what I had purchased in shop. I’m sure I was but I didn’t want to take risk either so I quickly took my hoodie off and I hit the crisps sweets and drink in my hoodie and put it under my arm. As i approached the ward I buzzed to get in. Same as this morning was no answer. After what felt like an age standing there a nurse I hadn’t seen before today spotted me outside and she came to the door. She asked me who I was and after briefly explaining who I was she said Shannon had told me when she was changing shifts come on ahead you haven’t missed tea and toast yet. I was delighted at the thought of getting tea and toast. As I was walking back to the room I noticed the Tea cart. Just futher on down was another cart, I gulped as I seen what was on top it was Abenda M4 Nappies(being a diaper lover I immediately recognised the brand when I seen them), i couldn’t believe it and the cart wasn’t very far from my room. As i reached my room memories started flooding back from this morning of me ticking night time incontinence. I was filled with so many emotions, excitment, butterflies, nerves, embrassment but a million thoughts raised through my mind. I’m not actually about to get put in a Nappy for bed am I? This would be to good to be true. To be continued… (this is only my first night of what ended up a four night stay in hospital. Its a true story let me know if use are interested in hearing rest and I will post next chapter)

BEFORE YOU READ Author’s Note: Hey all! I know I’m working on my other story, ‘Madeline’ right now but I figured since I’ve already got that story complete and will be updating periodically, I’d post this one! For the first time in a long while, this story is not in the Diaper Dimension! It’s based in a dystopian America where men rule and women are diapered. I’ve posted several one-shots recently in this universe and now have decided to turn it into a full story. The links to the other short stories are posted below! Disclaimer: This story is completely non-con!! It contains every warning you could possibly think of from domestic abuse, violence against women, normalized misogyny, sexist language, mental health issues. It also is SEXUAL so if this is not your scene then I suggest you SKIP this story!! Additional stories: Curiosity Killed the Cat: https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/99582-curiosity-killed-the-cat/#comment-2250023 An Hysterical Diapering: https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/99547-%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8B%E2%80%8Ban-hysterical-diapering/#comment-2249593 Questions: https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/99532-questions/#comment-2249380 ∞§∞ Synopsis: For ten years, Hannah has survived, trapped in a fallen society where women have been reduced to no more than diapered objects. However, when new neighbors move in next door, everything she had worked so hard to maintain slowly begins to fall apart. This leaves Hannah questioning everything she has been taught about a woman’s place in this world. A Woman’s Place Chapter 1: 2026 The soft velvet of praise reached her ears. Low and soothing, her face filled with warmth, relieved to have done something right. Jack could be in such a foul mood, but it must have been a good day, because she might as well have been purring from the way he patted her head. Knelt in the same position he’d left her this morning, they found themselves in the kitchen. Or more accurately, Hannah at his feet, beside where he sat at the head of the table. They were silent except for the scrape of cutlery upon china. Her nose flared at the wafting scent of the dinner she’d spent the last hour preparing. It was his favorite: chicken cutlet with a side of mash and veg. It was the first dish she’d learned to make and thought it fair to say that she had nailed to perfection. Her pride only multiplied when his hand reached down. Dangling in front of her lips was a juicy slice of crusted meat. “Go on,” he encouraged with a deep and hearty chuckle at the widening of her gaze. “You’ve been a good girl today.” “T-thank you!” Hannah breathed. Leaning forward toward the offered food, she took it with her teeth. Relaxed against her husband’s leg, she sucked the lingering juices from his fingers, tongue swiping his skin in eager movements. As if a dog desperate for a bone, Hannah Nicholas knew what she looked like - desperate and broken. This had been her life for the better half of the last decade. But it wasn’t so much of a brokenness than conditioned response. As a woman, Hannah knew what was expected of her. Men would see whatever they wanted to believe even in the form of plastic smiles and empty eyes. But that didn’t mean she was numb. In fact, it was quite the opposite. From where her husband sat, his voice washed over her. “I saw you completed all of your chores. I’m very proud of you. It was a long list.” Her chin tucked into her chest in response, but it wasn’t enough to hide the blossoming blush. She hated the way she reacted. Humiliated and ashamed, yet her body’s sickening desire for his approval made her question how sane she truly was. Experts would call it Stockholm Syndrome because when you were dependent on the one person that had the power to take everything away, the little treats became everything. And she’d never hated him more for it. Thanking him profusely, she all but mewled. She nuzzled her cheek into his open palm in a twisted act of affection. Afterall, obedience was a woman’s best friend. That was the first thing they learned in Reformation School. Obedience to the man. Obedience to the Patriarchy. What were once meaningless words became a lifeline —- tightening around your neck like a noose. It slowly stole your breath until you turned blue in the face in fit of submission. Maybe it would loosen or maybe… you would die. In an already fractured society, only the fittest survived, and the weak were a disease nobody wanted to catch. The number one cause of a weak ruler was the failure to adapt — to admit when one was in over their head and concede when their time had come to an end. That was why it was no wonder the country fell apart so quickly. After a decade of disillusion, people needed someone to look up to, they needed something to believe in. But when only one part of humanity has a voice, where does the other half go? For Hannah, that was North Carolina. ∞§∞ She knew he’d done it on purpose. Hannah was no fool. It was the same every time. Whether this was to test her level of obedience or just some sick way to fuck with her mind, she wouldn’t let him get to her. Men like her husband craved power. They needed it to breathe. But even in a world where they already held the upper hand, still, it was never enough. And as a female in this patriarchal hellscape where the price of a woman was that of livestock, Hannah could not afford to fall apart. There were rules for a reason. Rules to uphold the Patriarchy and every person had a place. Whatever it was, she had taken the oath of submission. Vowing to serve and protect the very system that sought to turn her into nothing… But Hannah would do anything if that’s what it took to survive. Even now as she scrubbed the toilet mercilessly on her hands and knees. It had taken nearly an hour to unclog and the odor clung to the walls like glue. Her eyes burned. She’d have to clean the whole bathroom again because Jack was a very particular man. The slightest imperfections sent him up the wall and at the end of the day, she would be the one to face the consequence. Luckily today though, her list was short enough. With breakfast and lunch completed and the kitchen cleaned, all that was left was some light dusting, laundry and dinner tonight. Hannah knew the amount of work but it kept her busy. That’s all she could be grateful for. Hannah had never been one to idle, always wanting more. However, according to the Patriarchy, a woman’s place was in the home. That’s why if she couldn’t work, this was the next best thing. But at the same time, there was an exhaustion that never seemed to fade. Etched into the lines of her face she was too young to have at only twenty-eight, Hannah was tired. As the young woman bent over the toilet on the cold tiled ground, her arms trembled from the exertion. For a moment, she thought that it wouldn’t hurt to take a break. Just a few seconds. If she closed her eyes and - “Pet?” Jerked out of her stupor, she could not react fast enough. Scrambling on all fours, she bowed her head to the ground at his feet. Jack stood at the door. Leaning against the frame with his hand on his hip, she watched him watch her. Cold and stony faced, her skin ignited in goosebumps. Hannah wouldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t attractive. He was - in a conventional sort of way. Olive skinned with a head full thick hair, he had a bone structure so sharp it could cut stone. He stood at maybe a foot above her when she was on her feet and had the build of a soccer player - lean and muscular. His sharply upturned eyes were a mousy brown that kindled in intensity. “Jack!” She exclaimed, unable to slow the hammering of her pulse. “I-I, uhm, I was just cleaning the bathroom-” Hannah struggled to explain over the rushing sound in her ears, angry at herself for how she hadn’t even heard his arrival. Instead of the reaction she’d expected, he lazily drawled, “Is my little wife tired?” Hannah knew better than to respond. A good wife was quiet. A good wife obeyed. “I don’t recall giving you a break. The house is far from clean.” “I’m sorry, sir,” Hannah murmured so softly, she barely heard her own voice. They’d had a late night. She could still feel the slap of his manhood plunging inside her quivering sex as he edged her to the point of delusion. Instinctively her thighs squeezed to together at the memory, knowing there was more where that came from - “Nuh-uh.” He snapped. Pulled back to the present, her face went ashen. She’d done it again. It was too easy to get lost in herself. Not only embarrassed at getting caught, it was even more so the lack of humility. “Such a needy thing… You know playtime is not allowed.” “Yes, sir.” “Present yourself.” He commanded. Watching as his wife scurried to comply, she was desperate not to make the situation any worse. So she clambered to her feet and spread her legs. Hannah didn’t even react as his hands slipped between her thighs, testing the leak guard of her thickly diapered bottom. Hannah was used to this by now - the diaper checks, baby powder, and lack of modesty; never being able to ignore the friction against her itching cunt so far out of reach, and the constant smell of her own bodily waste trailing in her wake. She stiffened at the swipe to the folds of her womanhood as he announced, “dry.” Sighing then, he said, “this is not your fault. You can’t control your urges. You’re just a simple minded girl, aren't you?” “Yes, sir.” Hannah responded slowly. He was unaware of her internal debacle. “This is just another example as to why you women need a strong man to keep you in line. It’s so you don’t get silly ideas about who owns your body.” “Yes, sir.” The words were hollow but it’s what he wanted to hear. Above her, he grinned down, patting her crinkling bottom in what could have been mistaken as affection. Unable to ignore the audible rustle of padding, there was no question where it was from. Of course it was from her. It was always her. Her very sight exemplified everything that the United States had become: a totalitarian regime built on the ideals of a patriarchal system where women’s autonomy did not exist, and misogynistic incels wielded the power. Trapped in a world of humiliation, fear and masculinity… this was the Patriarchy.

As a child, What were the rules in your family when you wet the bed? For me, I usually woke up after wetting, put a thick towel over the wet spot and put the wet pyjamas in the laundry. Then I went back to sleep.😴 In the morning I had to confess the „accident“ to my mother and latest at breakfast all family knew.😳 While I was at school, my mother washed everything and the mattress stood on the balcony to dry. In my room (I shared with my younger sister) usually I found my yellow plastic pants (snap on) on the blue mattress protector, with a pile of cloth diapers, waiting for my afternoon swaddling. 😔 This always was the worst moment. Being put back in diapers after I was „dry since months“ (usually it was maybe 4-6 weeks)🫣 🧏‍♀️First „rule“ I had to wear my diapers every night for a week. After dinner I had to leave before my siblings and follow my mother „to get my baby pants on“, as my sister usually said. I hated that and was ashamed. 🧏‍♀️Second „rule“ If the diaper was wet within the week, one week turned into two weeks in which I had to wake up dry to be allowed to sleep like a big boy again. 🧏‍♀️Third „rule“ I then had a plastic cover in my bed for two months. 🧏‍♀️Forth „rule“ If I was wet I had to wash out the diaper pants (plastic pants with buttons) after school and hang them up to dry with the diapers my mother had already washed. This usually was in the garden (summer) or in the hallway outside the bathroom (winter). That way, everyone knew: “Tom has wet his bed again”. In the evening, my mother would get the diapers again and change me. Sometimes if my parents where out for theatre or meeting friends, this happened even before dinner, before our babysitter arrived. I remember I had to help set the table in some PJs over my thick padded bum. And after dinner watching a film with my siblings and the babysitter and feeling the diaper in my crotch, poking out for everyone to see. Strictly speaking, it was not a “rule” but a “tradition” (introduced by my aunt who had some younger kids but also a boy two years older than me. She recommended this part of „potty training“ to my mother) Potty training worked for all children in such a way that if you were dry during the day, the diaper was soon left off at night as well. If the bed was wet, there was another week of diapers, or two if the diaper was wet. But the younger siblings were careful not to treat me any differently. Then my bed was often dry for two months and when it was wet I was given a diaper again. Later, when all the children were dry at night (I was already 12), it stayed that way for a year, or two for me. Did your family had rules for your Bedwetting?

Standing alone in the silence of his room, five year old Cody Thomas had a decision to make. Should he or shouldn't he? Thoughts of the potential consequences flooded his mind as he wrestled with the temptation. What would his mom say when she found out? Would she be angry? Would he be punished? Or, worst of all, would she be disappointed in him? It was this reaction that Cody feared more than anything else. He tried to hold back, but the point of no return was fast approaching. The pressure was building, and Cody felt the urge to act on his naughty impulse, in more ways than one... Cody had come a long way over the past few years, growing in ways both big and small. He could now dress himself, tie his own shoes, and was even starting to read. Yet, there was one area where progress remained difficult—no matter what they tried, Cody still couldn’t keep his bed dry at night. Because of this, he continued to wear diapers at bedtime. A part of his nighttime routine for as long as he could remember, it wasn't something that he ever felt embarrassed or ashamed of. On the contrary, Cody had always quite enjoyed the feelings of comfort and security which the padding under his pajama pants provided. Although, as an everyday occurrence for him, it wasn't something he paid much thought or attention to. However, on this particular day, Cody was inclined to experience those feelings in a way he had never before imagined. The notion of Cody's curious compulsion first dawned upon him earlier that day during a play-date with his three year old cousin Tyler. It was an otherwise ordinary situation, common amongst young children, that sparked these new feelings inside of Cody. Though it had been a while since the boys were last together, they connected instantly, despite the gap in their ages. Bonding over their shared interest in Paw Patrol, the two cousins reenacted scenes from the show with their favorite toy figures and vehicles. Zooming back and forth across the living room, they were immersed in their own imaginary world, when suddenly, it happened. At first, Cody was left puzzled by Tyler's abrupt change in demeanor. Their spirited play had come to a precipitous end when the younger boy stopped, frozen in place, near the side of the sofa. A look of intense concentration spread across Tyler's face as he stood there motionless. The room, once filled with loud, raucous laughter, had now fallen completely silent. Cody's curiosity deepened as he observed from across the room. He had a hunch about why Tyler had become so suddenly withdrawn, but he quickly second-guessed his initial assumption. "Tyler was too old to be doing that," he thought to himself, as he continued to watch the events unfold. Attempting to verify his suspicions, his eyes were fixated on Tyler's peculiar posture. And then it hit him. With a deliberate sniff, Cody's preliminary guess had been confirmed. The smell was unmistakable. An obvious indication of what had occurred, it brought all the pieces of the puzzle together. Cody was astonished. It was the first time he had ever witnessed one of his peers, someone whom he no longer considered to still be a baby, do THAT in their pants. Cody had assumed that Tyler was now a big boy like him. He hadn't yet realized that Tyler still wore training pants to protect him from potty accidents. While Cody was no stranger to wearing protection himself, it had been several years since he had done anything more than just wet in them. The five-year-old boy sat down on the floor amongst the scattered toys while continuing to observe the situation. Fully captivated by the idea of what had just taken place, he felt compelled to keep watching as Tyler made his way out from the nook by the sofa. Neither boy said a word as Tyler walked right past Cody on his way towards the kitchen where their moms were having coffee. As he passed by, Cody's gaze lingered on his playmate's bottom, the protruding bulge revealing unmistakable evidence of his uninhibited action. Cody stayed intently focused as the events progressed. From the other room, he could hear Tyler explaining to his mother the current state of his pants. A short while later, he watched as his aunt took Tyler by the hand and led him down the hall to the bathroom. In her other hand, she carried a package of wet wipes and a fresh pair of Pull-Ups training pants. Overcome with an impish desire to see behind the closed bathroom door, Cody felt an unexpected rush of excitement pulse throughout his body as he imagined the details. It had been over three years since Cody last needed any sort of protective padding during the daytime. Trying to remember back, he found that he could no longer recall much from the days, years prior, when he was still learning to use the potty. Try as he may, only a few fuzzy memories from that transitional period of his life remained. Lost in a daydream, Cody wished he knew how it felt to soil his pants the way Tyler had just done. Cody was jolted from his thoughts by the energetic sound of his three-year-old cousin rushing toward him from down the hall. As his aunt followed shortly behind, he immediately noticed the discreetly rumpled up training pants in her hand. Unlike the pristine pair she had carried into the bathroom earlier, this Pull-Up was visibly discolored, its conspicuous bulk betraying its contents. It was undeniable proof that the young boy wasn't quite ready for big-kid underwear. Tyler settled beside Cody on the living room floor as his mother stepped into the kitchen to discreetly dispose of his used undergarment. Without skipping a beat, Tyler promptly resumed their game of make-believe. With his mind still in a daze, Cody picked up one of the toys from the floor and joined him. Distracted by the thoughts of his newly discovered feelings, he now lacked the same enthusiastic attention that he had earlier, struck by Tyler's unabashed response towards his seemingly deliberate mishap. Cody found himself envying younger kids like Tyler, who were granted this special privilege. Although these types of thoughts had never crossed his mind before, he was now hung up on the idea. While he understood that it wasn’t uncommon for kids his age to struggle with bladder control at night, he was also aware that by the age of five, children were generally expected to stay clean and dry during the day. As a three year old, Tyler was not held to these same expectations. His Aunt's nonchalant reaction, to the unpleasant circumstances involving her son's training pants, affirmed this assumption. Though Tyler had progressed in his potty training enough to graduate to Pull-Ups, his mother didn't seem to mind that he had used it just like a diaper. The care and compassion shown by his aunt while addressing Tyler's messy pants was much different than how he presumed his own mother would react if he were to do the same. Fueled by boundless juvenile energy, the boys rambunctiously bounced between various activities as the afternoon progressed. Throughout the rest of the day, Cody couldn't shake the thoughts and images of Tyler's earlier indiscretion from his mind. It wasn't until after his aunt and cousin had left that he began to form his plan. It all began with a subtle twinge of nature's call after dinner, the familiar feeling that signaled it was time to sit on the potty. A sly grin flashed across Cody's face at the realization of this budding opportunity. He could tell by the fading daylight outside that it wouldn't be long before bath-time. After that, if he could hold it until then, he would have the chance to do something he had never before considered. Lit only by the soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand, Cody stood in his bedroom after his bath, staring blankly at the bookshelf. It was the time of night when he was allowed to read or play quietly in his room before bed. On this night however, five year old Cody Thomas had other plans. His pulse quickened, and a dampness coated his palms. He felt a pressing need to relieve the aching pressure that was building inside. There was a disposable diaper taped snugly around his bottom, and Cody's temptation to use it was strong... Mature beyond his years, Cody displayed a sense of self awareness not often seen in children his age. An exceptionally well-behaved and conscientious young boy, he always minded his manners and he rarely acted out. It was these superlative character traits that had allowed Cody to be potty trained in a relatively short amount of time, and at a considerably young age. Already using the potty by his second birthday, he was completely free of daytime accidents just a few months later. If not for his lack of night-time bladder control, Cody would have been out of diapers forever. After a seamless transition to underwear, Cody's mother continued to use Pampers on him at bed-time. Considering how well they had always worked at protecting his sheets from a nightly soaking, she'd been reluctant in switching to training pants. Even though it was taking longer than she'd initially imagined, she felt confident that it was just a phase which he would eventually grow out of. Like the kind and caring mother she was, she had remained patient and reassuring over the years while waiting for him to develop the ability to stay dry throughout the night. Nevertheless, despite her attempts at limiting his fluids after dinner and scheduling potty breaks before bed, Cody still woke up most mornings just as he had ever since he was a baby... with a very wet diaper. While not unusual for kids Cody's age to frequently experience the involuntary release of number-one while sleeping, consciously pushing a number-two into them was something entirely different. Beset by this recent desire, it was the first time he ever considered doing something that he was certain his mother would disapprove of. Longing to recapture forgotten memories and feelings from an earlier part of his life, Cody found it difficult to resist the lure of this boyish whim... Standing alone in the silence of his room, five year old Cody Thomas had a decision to make. He paced restlessly by the side of his bed, his mind torn as he weighed the two choices before him. He recalled a cartoon he'd recently seen, where an angel and a devil appeared on either shoulder of the main character. Each apparition, with opposing motives, urged the man to act—the angel pushing him to follow his conscience and do the right thing, while the devil tempted him to succumb to his desires. Cody felt exactly like that now, grappling with his own inner conflict as his imagination took over. An imaginary devil, perched on the shoulder of the young boy, whispered into his ear. "Go ahead, do it. You will feel so much better. Just push that stinky poopy right into the seat of your pants. After all, you ARE wearing a diaper and that is what they're made for, AREN'T they?" "Cody Nathaniel Thomas, you're far too old for that. Big boys like you shouldn't be filling their pants with poo-poo. Just go tell your mom, and she can help you use the potty," the corresponding make-believe angel advised. "Don't listen to him. You know you want to do it. Wouldn't you like to remember what it feels like to make poopy in your diaper?" "Cody.. that diaper you're wearing is to protect you from wetting the bed, not for making your poopies in." Even though the words were all in his mind, it had felt quite real for Cody and he wasn't sure which one he should listen to. As he felt the emerging stool beginning to crown, he knew he wouldn't be able to hold it much longer. More than anything, the five year old boy just wanted the discomfort that he felt below his waist to subside. Cody knew the only way to relieve the stabbing pressure was to just let go and push, but he remained indecisive on where he should do it. While unsure if he would ever get another opportunity like this one, he feared the unknown repercussions that could come with using his diaper in that manner. Lost in his conflicted feelings, Cody paced back and forth until, suddenly, he froze in his tracks. The intensity of the aching cramps had suddenly increased. His focus had now turned to straining as hard as he could in an effort to hold back the impending mass which was causing the intense discomfort. Standing there, his rear clenched tight, the immense wave of pressure gradually subsided. However, the close call had left Cody shaken. He no longer wanted to follow through with the plan that had eagerly excited him just moments earlier. After repeatedly mulling it over in his mind, he ultimately decided the angel was right—it simply wasn't worth it. He turned around and made his way towards the bedroom door. He intended to go ask his mom to remove his diaper so he could relieve himself on the potty... but that's not what happened. After just a few steps, the intense pressure returned—stronger than before. Cody strained with all his might to hold it back, but it was no use. He could already feel it forcing its way out as he stood there, powerless to stop it. He knew it was inevitable, whether he wanted it or not. A wave of satisfaction and serenity overcame Cody as the burgeoning mass made its way towards the seat of his protective pants. His mind was now completely clear. All of his thoughts and worries from moments ago had simply vanished. All he could focus on now was the relief he felt from releasing the unrelenting burden which he had been holding in tight. A soft, muffled thud emanated from the back of the young boy's pajama pants, cutting through the silence of the room. At that moment, Cody felt an unfamiliar tug at his waist as the diaper he wore stretched to accommodate the broad, globular lump that had just dropped into it. Five year old Cody Thomas, was now wearing, a poopy diaper. Even though he had been left with no choice due to his procrastination, Cody felt extremely happy that he'd gone through with the mischievous deed. He couldn't remember ever feeling so excited and exhilarated. He immediately reached his hand around to his back side to inspect his newly formed creation. He was fascinated by how rigid and dense the mass was while he patted it with his palm. While admiring the naughty bump in the back of his pants, Cody looked over at his desk in the corner of the room and was struck with an inspiring idea. He walked over to the wooden desk and pulled out the chair. He then heard his imaginary angel and devil friends reappear. "What a great idea! Go ahead and do it! Sit your butt down on that poopy diaper. It will feel so good," said the devil with a sly grin. "Don't do it. It's bad enough that you just pooped your pants. Don't make it worse by sitting in it. Think of the mess!" the angel retorted. But Cody was determined. He had absolutely no interest in what the angel was saying this time. The impulse was too strong to resist. Without wasting another second, he sat right down on the firm lump of poo that was nestled in the inner lining of his diaper. He let out a soft sight as he felt thick nugget start to flatten from his body weight. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Caught up in the enjoyment, he never paused to consider the consequences of his actions Cody stood back up and again patted his now flattened bulge with his hand. It was then that he felt the aching pressure return as he realized that the first deposit was only the tip of the iceberg. This time, Cody did not hesitate. His heart hammered like a drum, the beat drowning out all rational thought. The thrill bubbled within him, an electrifying mix of exhilaration and reckless abandon. The looming specter of punishment holding no weight in his mind, Cody was determined to push more mischief into his Pamper. Thinking back to how his younger cousin looked earlier in the day when he was doing the same thing, Cody froze, bent his knees, and then let loose. In an instant, the bump in the back of his pants had grown larger. Cody stood frozen, a tingling sensation running throughout his body. Consumed by the unfamiliar experience, he didn’t even notice the release of his bladder until the unmistakable warmth spread across his bottom. Mesmerized by the weight of his full diaper, he took a few gentle steps around the room as he got accustomed to the novel feelings pressed against his backside. "Five more minutes until I come to tuck you in, okay, sweetheart?" Cody heard his mom call from the hallway. Trying his best to sound normal, he responded through the closed door, "Okay, Mommy." The thrill that had just consumed him came crashing down, replaced by waves of regret as he imagined his mom's reaction to finding her five-year-old son in a poopy diaper. A pungent, earthy scent now filled the entire room. Cody was certain his mom would know what he'd done the moment she stepped inside. As soon as the blow dryer clicked off in the bathroom next door, he felt the clock ticking, acutely aware that her entrance was now only minutes away. Overwhelmed by fear, tears started to run down his face as he panicked over the thoughts of his moms response. Disappointed, angry, ashamed—those were just a few of the words racing through his mind. Cody began to sob uncontrollably as he heard footsteps approaching his door. Pressing his back against the wall, he tucked his hands behind him. His gaze dropped to the floor just as the doorknob started to turn. "Ready for night night kiddo?" Cody's mom said as she walked through his bedroom door. Still a bit tipsy from the bottle of wine she'd shared with her sister earlier in the afternoon, it took Mrs. Thomas a few moments to register the unexpected scene she had walked into. The smell hit her first—a sharp, recognizable scent she wasn’t accustomed to encountering in her five-year-old’s bedroom. Then her eyes landed on her precious son, standing across the room with his head bowed, tears streaming down his face as he sobbed quietly. "What's the matter buddy?" Cody's mom asked gently, despite already having a pretty good idea of why her son was whimpering. It was then that Cody completely broke down, tears streaming down his face as his lip trembled. Though his reaction was an uncontrolled response to the stress of the situation, Cody exaggerated it just a bit—a defense mechanism born of the hope that his mom might be less angry if he was crying hysterically. "I pooped in my pants Mommy, I'm sorry! It was an accident. Please don't be mad." Cody blurted out with his voice cracking through the sobs. "Oh sweetheart. It's okay. Don't cry. Mama's not mad at you. Come here and give me a hug." Mrs Thomas replied feeling heartbroken that here little boy was so upset. Cody felt a slight wave of relief, though he knew he wasn’t out of the woods yet. Sure, his mom wasn’t upset now, but how would she react when she realized Cody had sat in his mess like a small toddler? The contents of the heavily soiled diaper jostled as Cody walked to the edge of the bed where his mother was crouching down with her her arms wide open. He collapsed into her warm embrace, resting his head on her shoulder, while she gave him kisses on the cheek. Mrs. Thomas instinctively reached for her son's sagging pants, assessing the damage with a gentle tap of her fingertips on the prominent bump. While Cody's mom was not thrilled at the prospect of dealing with such a stinky situation, her priority was to comfort her only child, who was trembling in her arms. "Shhhh, it's okay sweetie. Mommy will make it all better. No need to cry." Cody's mom whispered in his ear as she removed her hand from his backside and was now softly rubbing his hair. She then grabbed a few tissues from the box on the nightstand and began to wipe the tears still running down his cheeks. Mrs. Thomas smiled warmly and asked, "Feeling a little better, sweetheart?" Cody's spastic breathing began to steady as he nodded. "Yes, Mommy," he replied, starting to feel a bit calmer. She tilted her head, her voice gentle, "Good. I don’t like seeing you so upset, buddy. Are you sure you’re okay? Do you have a tummy ache or anything?" Cody hesitated, a pang of guilt in his chest. "No, Mommy. I feel okay," he said, knowing he hadn’t been entirely honest. Her brow furrowed briefly, though her tone remained light. "Alright, I was just wondering since you’ve never had an accident like this before. I’m just glad it happened while you were wearing your nighttime diaper." "Now, what do you say—ready to get out of those stinky pants? Because Peee Uuuuu!" She gave him a playful wink and pretended to plug her nose This lighthearted comment made Cody crack a smile. 'Okay,' he replied with a sniffle, slowly recovering from his crying spell. Walking slightly bow-legged, Cody held his mom's hand as they made their way to the bathroom down the hall. He watched as she opened the linen closet and gathered the supplies needed for the diaper change she was about to perform: a large beach towel, a package of wet wipes, and a clean diaper from the box of Pampers on the floor. After placing the diaper and wipes on the counter, she unfolded the beach towel and placed it on the woven rug in the middle of the bathroom floor. "Okay Sweetie. I'm ready for you. I can't change you standing up like I do with your wet diapers, so I'm going to have you lie down on the towel here," Mrs. Thomas explained as she grabbed Cody's jammy pants from the sides of his hips and proceeded to pull them down around his ankles. Cody felt his dirty diaper sag even further once his pants were pulled down. He felt another impish desire wash over him as he was strongly tempted to swing his loaded Pamper between his legs by swaying his hips. He immediately dismissed the idea from his mind as he was still worried about what his mom would say when she discovered what he had done to his poop. "Down you go," Cody's mom said in a playful tone as she gently lowered him onto the towel spread out on the floor. She grabbed the wipes and diaper from the counter, knelt by his feet, and prepared to get to work." "Wow, kiddo. It's been such a long time since I last changed you out of a messy diaper. I can barely remember—it must have been right after you turned two. You were practically still a baby the last time it happened." Cody's mother paused to reminisce about when her little boy was still just a baby before moving forward with the unpleasant task. "That's because you were such a good boy, even as a baby," she said with a warm smile, glancing at Cody as she spoke. "You made potty training so easy for Mama. Not all moms are as lucky, though. She paused briefly before continuing, her tone turning slightly thoughtful. "Look at your cousin Tyler—you saw what happened today. He's almost three and a half, and Auntie Laura told me he still poops in his pants every day. She said he's nowhere near being potty trained." She shook her head and let out a soft sigh. "Honestly, though, I think she’s just being lazy. It's easier for her to keep him in a diaper or pull-up than to do the work of hovering over him all day to make sure he gets to the potty." Cody's mom continued, fiddling with the container of wipes. Her slight tipsiness had loosened her filter, finding herself revealing more of her inner thoughts to her young son than she normally would. "That's why I could never be mad at you for something like this—whether it was an accident... or not," she said after a brief pause, her tone carrying a hint of suspicion that her son may have filled his diaper intentionally. Those comments made Cody feel a pang of guilt for not being entirely honest about what had happened earlier in his room. It was difficult for him to withhold the truth from his mom, especially after she had just praised him so warmly. The weight of it all became too much, and Cody felt compelled to confess, so he blurted it out. "Mommy.... It wasn't an accident. I did it on purpose." Cody's mom gave him a soft smile, her tone gentle and reassuring. "I know sweetheart. It's okay." Cody's mom replied, stopping just as she was about to grab one of the tapes of the dirty diaper. "Really? How did you know it wasn't an accident, Mommy?" Cody asked, his eyes wide with surprise that she already knew his secret. "Moms just know these things, kiddo," Mrs. Thomas said with a knowing smile. She couldn’t help but think it wasn’t a coincidence that her son's first accident happened on the same day he saw his cousin poop in his pants "Monkey see... Monkey do doo-doo," she mused to herself, stifling a chuckle. Cody was delighted by his mom's reaction to the situation. He now felt silly for worrying so much about what she would say upon finding out about his deliberate accident. However, Cody was still concerned about the one last surprise that was waiting for his mother on the inside of his diaper. He watched nervously as her adept hands continued to go to work. "Rip...Rip," Mrs Thomas proceeded with unfastening the tapes on Cody's Pamper. "Ok Buddy, can you lift your legs in the air for mommy?" Cody did as his mom instructed, praying she wouldn't be angry about his pancaked poop. "Woah kid, your poopies have certainly gotten a lot bigger since you were two." Cody's mom remarked surprisingly, as she pulled down the front flap of the diaper she was about to change. She pulled one of wipes from the container as she continued. "Also, your poops seems to be a little on the hard side, buddy. I think we're gonna add some more fruit to your diet to try and soften it up. Sound good?" She asked Cody as she began wiping the messy residue from his butt. "I like peaches", replied Cody gleefully, happy to be talking about fruit instead the condition of his diaper. Cody's kind and caring mom continued with the diaper change, saying nothing about the flattened poop inside. With the larger load now on top, she hadn’t even noticed it. And thanks to the firm nature of Cody’s poop, the mess wasn’t particularly bad. Once Cody fully realized there would be no consequences for his actions, the tension melted away from his body. As he relished the comforting touch of his mom’s hands fastening his fresh diaper, his gaze shifted to the used one lying nearby. A proud sense of accomplishment washed over him as he took in the sight of the mounded brown lumps nestled within the padding of the heavily used disposable diaper. As Cody lay in bed, sleep eluded him as his mind replayed the day's events on a loop. The faint scent of poopy diapers lingered in his nose, intertwined with the thrill of the discoveries he'd made. Though it was his first time exploring the unique sensations of using his diapers for more than just pee, he knew it wouldn't be his last. The End If you like Cody, you're going to love Skyler. Check his stories out here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/5736016

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.

Leslie: i am online and see a ad for a adoption of a adult baby thinking to myself i will finally be a mother John: i come into the home office and wait as you show me we type back that we would like to meet with you

Now available on Amazon with a preview of Volume 2 Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07SP7Q3WD Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1071417185 _______________________________________ Chapter 1 “So why are you here?” She smiled when she said it; you could tell it was routine, the first question she always asked, and the smile was just good service. Staring across the desk, slumped in his chair, not sure where to put his hands or how to answer and preserve some pride, Eric didn’t respond right away. “I guess … I just don’t want to be here anymore,” Eric replied while keeping his eyes on the desk. Cheryl was used to this. Not many people who came to an adoption center wanted to talk about it. Except the exhibitionists; they wouldn’t stop talking about it, but it was obvious from his body language and mumbling tone that Eric wasn’t here for any of those reasons. “I understand, honey,” Cheryl said, softening her voice, “a lot of people feel that way. Can I ask you some questions about how you feel?” Eric knew what coming; he’d asked the same questions himself more times than he cared to remembered. He nodded. “Do you feel like hurting yourself?” “No.” Flat, matter of fact, and truthful. “Have you ever felt like hurting yourself?” “No.” “Do you feel like hurting someone else?” “No.” Have you ever felt like hurting someone else?” “No.” Cheryl ticked off boxes on her iPad while Eric waited patiently. “I’m so glad to hear that. Can I ask a few more?” She didn’t pause for him to answer. “Have you ever been diagnosed with any of the following? Bipolar disorder, Schizophrenia, Depression, Anxiety, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, Personality Disorder, Dissociative disorder?” “Just depression and anxiety,” Eric said as he pushed back in his chair and exhaled. He’d been with depression for eight years and had this conversation with every new doctor and therapist he’d been to in that time. It was boring. Before Cheryl could get her next word out, Eric answered her next question. “I’m taking 150mg of Bupropion once a day and Xanax as needed. I’ve was seeing a therapist every other week until about 6 months ago. Her names is in the paperwork I brought with me. I’d say my depression and anxiety are both well controlled.” “Good,” she said, “That’s all good. Do you mind if I call your therapist to talk with her?” “No, that’s fine.” “Good. I need to be sure your decision isn’t being influenced by your depression or anxiety. So, back to what you were saying earlier, you ‘don’t want to be here anymore.’ Can you tell me more about that?” Cheryl leaned forward, trying to help Eric engage. “I’m work for the county…I’m a social worker…” Cheryl was practiced at this. Nod, say nothing, the client will fill the silence when they’re ready. “I … I …” Eric sucked in air and held back a sob. “I just can’t stay here anymore. I can’t … keep doing this.” Cheryl pushed her box of tissues toward Eric, who reached into his pocket and pulled out a cotton handkerchief. Dabbing at his eyes, he said started again. “Kenard Bering was my client. You probably didn’t hear about that. Good kid, not a trouble maker; wasn’t going to be any project to Harvard story, but he was on track, ya know. And he gets shot over a fucking cellphone.” Tears dripped, and Eric occasional wiped them away as he fell into a soliloquy: “Second kid in a year killed ……………. Dies at school from a fucking asthma attack. When’s the last time you heard of anyone dying from a fucking asthma attack ……………. And this asshole cop says to this 14 year old, ‘well, what are you doing to make your mother hit you? I couldn’t believe it, I … who the fuck says that or even thinks that way? How do you send a kid home who doesn’t want to go home? ……………. Burned ……………. Dropped out ……………. Caught with a weapon his mother game him. And that was after she beat him for losing a fight ……………. But so what if he graduates, right? ‘Cause it’s not like there’s anything but a mop or an apron waiting for him out there ……………. Left her kid to sit in his own shit while she went to get high and doesn’t even tell the cop the kid is home alone ……………. Jail ……………. 12 years old and pregnant and bipolar and both parents on drugs – what can I even do for that? ……………. He had priors ……………. I lost him to the pipeline ……………. Caught out on a corner ……………. Neighborhood says the cops did it ……………. ……………. ……………. ……………. …………….” Eric had stopped crying. He wasn’t sad. He was angry and disgusted and indignant. “For every one I save, whatever that means, there’s five I don’t. It’s like watching a never ending catastrophe and it rips my guts out every time.” Tired now, he slumped back in his chair, “Everyone said give it a year, you’ll get hardened to it. And I never did. Eight years, never gets better, never gets worse. It just is. And I can’t do it anymore. I can’t see it anymore.” Cheryl nodded her, “Uh huh…” waiting to see if Eric had more to say. When she thought he was done, she asked, “That sounds very hard for you. Can you tell me, though, why go to the other dimension? That’s pretty drastic; couldn’t you just change jobs?” “No,” Eric answered, “Because I know it’s all out there. I can’t live with myself if I quit. Or at least I can’t do it here.” That made sense to her. A sad kind of sense. Eric sounded like the kind of person there are too few of, but those qualities that made him so valuable to everyone else were the same qualities that made him so unhappy. Classic burnout. It wasn’t the first time Cheryl had seen this in a client, but it was obviously the worst, and she understood how Eric could believe there would never be an end to it if he stayed. He might even be right, she thought. “Eric, I’m going to be very frank with you. The dimension is more like our world than a lot of people want to admit. In some ways, it’s much, much worse, the way they treat people like us. It’s different in different countries, but in some of them we’re not seen as people. If you’ve heard anyone compare it to slavery and torture, they weren’t wrong. How does that make you feel?” Eric wasn’t surprised. He’d heard it all. It was right there in the web forums: kidnapping, mutilation, mind alteration. Even “Island of Dr. Moreau.” “I know,” Eric replied. “That’s why I came here and not some other place.” “Because you know we only work with people who live in Itali?” “Yeah.” “Well, that was smart of you. Some people get impatient and will go anywhere, or just go somewhere in the dimension and take their chances. You seem like someone who does his research, but I just want to tell you some things to separate fact from fiction: · Itali only permits adoptions through license agencies like ours, and they only adopt direct from our dimension to Itali. Not from any of the other countries there. · While humans can live there independently with the same rights at Bigs, if you adopt yourself out, you’ll have the same rights as a minor there. Anything that is permissible for a Big to do to their own children can be done to you. Anything that is impermissible for a Big to do to their own children cannot be done to you. · You can select the stage of life you wish to begin with as a Little: newborn, infant or toddler. Those are the only choices. That is binding on the Bigs who adopt from us. However, they retain the right to decide the details associated with your stage of life, which may vary from your expectations. Whether and at what pace you progress through life stages, and what point, if any, you stop progressing, is up to the Big. If you choose or consent to it, your Big may further regress you from your current stage at any time. · You’ll notice we call them Bigs. They call us Littles. ‘Amazon’ is a pejorative there. · There’s no amending the adoption agreement. It says what it says. We can make your wishes known to prospective parents, but they can break any promise they make. But we don’t adopt out to just anyone. We thoroughly inspect all of our clients. We wouldn’t work with them if we believed they were bad people. · Our adoption agreement prohibits the following: o Involuntary physical or mental alteration o Giving, selling, or trading Littles o Having custody of any Little not adopted through an agency licensed in Itali o Violations of any Itali laws; suspicion of violations to be investigated, with a preponderance of evidence sufficient to be considered a violation of this agreement o Withholding or unduly delaying adequate medical care o Abuse, neglect, or negligence as defined by The Agency; suspicion of abuse, neglect, or negligence to be investigated, with a preponderance of evidence sufficient to be considered a violation of this agreement o Traveling with the Little to, or sending the Little to, any country where any of the above are not expressly forbidden by law · We have offices in Itali that conduct surprise inspections and work with the authorities there. If they find any violation of the adoption agreement, under the treaty permitting inter-dimensional adoptions between us and Itali, the police are required by law take you into their custody and return you to us. · Unless your parents violate the adoption agreement, you must remain with them as their Little for 10 years. You can asked to be returned to us, but they are not obligated to comply. Conversely, they can return you to us whenever they choose. At the end of those 10 years, you can decide to stay their Little, return to us, or remain in Itali as a full and independent citizen. · Your property and assets with be placed in a trust our non-profit partner manages. If choose to return to us or to become an independent citizen after 10 years, your property will be returned to you less the what we spend eliminating any remaining debt you have here. If you choose to stay a Little after 10 years, your assets, property, and any interest are liquidated, the revenue will be used to pay off your debt, and anything left over will be donated to fund the non-profit. I just want to remind you that Itali is like here; there are good people and bad people. We only work with good, but if you’re looking for a Utopia, that’s not Itali. Does all that make sense? Do you have any questions?” “No. Well, I guess yeah – what happens next,” Eric asked. Eric was familiar with provisions like these. It was part of his job, dealing with foster parents and adoptions. This aligned closely to the laws of he was used to dealing with. He made a lot of those inspections over the years himself. “I know that was a lot to take in,” Cheryl answered, “It’s all in the paperwork I’m going to send you home with. If you have any questions, please reach out to me, and we will be testing you to ensure you read and understood the adoption agreement before we approve you for adoption. So next I’m going to process all the information on those forms we asked you to bring in, then I’m going to call you doctors and last therapist. Our compliance department is going to run the background check you’re allowing us to do, and that includes all of your financial history so we know what we’re taking on when if you decide to move forward. Once that’s done, I’ll be in touch. It usually takes about 10 days for the average person. I’m guessing because of your job you’re going to appear in a lot of court records, so it may take longer. And in the meantime you just go about your life like normal. Don’t make any drastic decisions; don’t go on a spending spree; don’t do anything dangerous or stupid. Anything like that has the potential to cause us to reject your application. If you have any questions, you can call me or one of our licensed therapists – I really encourage everyone to do that anyway. And if at any time you change your mind and want to just forget this, we can do that, too; everything here is confidential, and all your records will be destroyed. Do you have any more questions right now?” With her monologue done, Eric thought for a moment. It was a lot to take in, and even though he was far from the end of it, everything seemed very real now. “Uh, not a question really. Can I tell you one thing I’m looking for in a Big,” Eric asked. “Of course.” Eric felt sheepish. He’d thought about this a lot, and he was embarrassed by it, as if this entire thing weren’t embarrassing. “I don’t know what life stage I want to start at, but, uh, can you, um, put it in my file that I don’t think I ever want to grow up again?” “I can’t promise your Big would abide by that, but I will put it in your file, and we’ll try do our best to find a Big who wants the same as you. Anything else?” “No,” Eric said as he stood up and stuck his hand out. “Thank you for your help. I’ll do all the things you said.” “Thank you for coming in today,” Cheryl replied as she shook Eric’s hand. As Eric reached the door, Cheryl felt compelled to add, “Eric, we’re going to make sure everything turns out right for you. I’ll make sure. And while all this is going on, please … just try to take care of yourself … for me.” Eric nodded and left. Cheryl liked Eric. She had a soft spot for people who had soft spots, and she knew people like Eric were worth protecting. We need more people like him in this world, Cheryl thought, but he needs something else. She understood why Eric wanted to be with a Big who didn’t want him to grow up: so he’d never have to see the kinds of things he saw everyday here. Returning to her desk, Erica started taking in on her notes for the file: Eric is 29 years old and suffers from depression and anxiety which are well controlled with medication … overwhelmed by work and the suffering he sees in the world … is educated and intelligent … is a sensitive and kind person … appears physically healthy … exhibits signs of PTSD, though he has not been diagnosed, and may benefit from therapy post-adoption … will likely need substantial emotional support ... did not admit to any fetish as a motivator .. may have trouble adapting ... desires to NOT progress from initial stage of life … will likely match best with a female head of household looking to dote on her Little and who has a large support network …

Background Character list: Andrej Doležal (54) – a small vineyard owner. He runs a small business for tourists and visitors, offering his wine in the wine cellar. Tasting the wine is the local habit, and many people try out too many samples before buying. Besides the standard offer, there are a few bottles of old wines on the shelves in the back room. Andrej even doesn’t remember who he got them from and when. The dusty bottles can hide secrets. Peter Bartoš (40) – a forest worker. He is a nice but very little educated man. He works every day from dawn to dusk and often spends the evening in the local inn even if he doesn’t drink too much. He uses talking with his neighbors there. Magda Bartošová (35) – Peter’s wife, a sweet and lovely woman but as little educated as her husband. She occasionally works on the local farm; she tends to cattle there. She loves children, but she could have only a single son. After labor, her womb was damaged. Milan Bartoš (16) – Peter’s and Magda’s son. He attends elementary school, but he is not too motivated to learn, seeing his parents. Anyway, he has learned a bit English. Otherwise, he is a nice boy. Marek Mlynár (58) – an elderly police officer, thinking more of his retirement than of his duties. Fortunately, he is not very busy, the village is quiet and peaceful. Despite his effort, he usually fails, but nobody minds it, the villagers shrug and sigh only. Scene: Horné Bukovany – a small village at the foot of small mountains. Vineyards spread up the hills, and the area is known for quality wine. However, there are old rumors about mysterious vine with magic properties, but nobody know if they are true and nobody has found that mysterious plant. Horné Bukovany doesn’t differ from other nearby villages. There is a single main street there, framed by houses. A small church is placed in the center of the village, along with the local inn, mayor office with a tiny one-man police station and a small elementary school; however, the older children above the 4th grade must travel to the nearby town Bozinok. Most villagers work at the local farm or sawmill. The work is hard and not well paid, but they don’t have many other options left. Gardens, chickens, and rabbits provide them with extra food. There are few vineyard owners there that offer wine to locals, visitors and occasional tourists that wander to the village by mistake.

In less than two weeks my debut novel 'More Than A Costume' will be published. I'm very excited to share it. I describe it as a kinky, erotic work of romantic fiction. Here's the prologue of the book as a teaser. Prologue The Plan It was a Thursday evening in late October, and a young woman sat at her desk studying. She perused her notes while soft ambient music played through her headphones. Even though she was approaching her mid-twenties, she was dressed in a tight t-shirt displaying a cartoon bunny, and an adult diaper with a cute bunny print on it. The diaper was bulky because she had already peed in it. Twice? She was not sure. The coffee and tea she had been caffeinating with all day was going right through her. Pangs in her bladder told her she would need to go again soon, but her concentration was on the last bit of test prep for tomorrow's exam. Her name was Spring, and she was in her bedroom on the second floor of the large home that she lived in alone. It was too big of a house for just one person to live in, but it was her family home, the one she grew up in. She was never going to sell it. Many of her most treasured memories had been made there. Two notifications popped up on her phone, but Spring was so locked in to her studying they went by unnoticed. Someone had texted her, but she did not respond. Her studying session was nearly over and she was otherwise preoccupied. Going over her coursework, she felt more confident of her knowledge of the subject matter by the minute. Spring rarely got anything less than top grades on most of her schoolwork, and was sure she was going to be ready for the important test. Spring's bladder protested for release, but she was enjoying the sensation of needing to pee so badly that it was making her horny. Her mind briefly drifted to her after-school plans tomorrow, and warmth radiated in her crotch as her excitement grew. She reached down and petted the front of her padding as a two-second spurt of pee escaped into her diaper and warmed the area around her lady parts. She did not think she would ever get over how good it felt to wet herself whenever she wanted. Still gently rubbing the crotch of her diaper, she closed her eyes and sighed. Then, something very unexpected happened. Spring was lost in the moment with soothing sounds in her headphones, eyes closed, horny, and holding back the large volume of pee trying to force its way out of her. Suddenly a hand touched her shoulder. Spring jumped in her chair, and squealed. She lost control of her bladder and flooded her bulky diaper. Warm fluid pooled in her crotch, before being absorbed by the expanding padding. From behind her she heard a young woman giggling, and she recognized the laugh immediately. “Lisa, you almost gave me a heart attack!” Spring yelled at her chuckling best friend. She was still flooding her diaper as she stood up, and turned to face Lisa. “You made me pee myself,” Spring said smiling, then giggled. The last of her pee trickled into her swollen padding. “I knew you were home, but you weren't answering my knocks or texts, so I let myself in,” Lisa informed her. Lisa had had a key to Spring's house for years. She was also very aware that Spring wore adult diapers. It was so common that Lisa might have actually been shocked if she found her sitting in dry panties, instead of a wet diaper. Spring was always happy to see her best friend, and she leaned in to embrace Lisa. They hugged, and lingered for a few extra moments with their bodies pressing against one another. Spring experienced the usual feelings of love and positivity from her bestie. They eventually released from each other’s grasp. She looked at Lisa, who was wearing a short, white tennis skirt, a tight pink shirt with a cartoon fox on the front, pink thigh-high socks, and white sneakers with pink laces. For a moment she imagined that Lisa was wearing a diaper under her skirt, and that caused Spring's crotch to become damp with something other than pee. She quickly wiped the thought from her mind. Lisa had always been supportive when it came to Spring’s diaper-wearing, but she had never inquired about wearing one herself. Lisa meant everything to her, and Spring would never do anything to jeopardize their friendship. Her bestie was beautiful, and she did sometimes catch herself thinking about Lisa in more intimate ways. The point was moot though, because although Spring was single, Lisa had a boyfriend. Sheesh, I really do need to get laid, Spring thought. “I can't wait for tomorrow!” Lisa exclaimed. Spring nodded enthusiastically. “I know, me too! My favorite DJ is playing, so I'm looking forward to dancing all night,” Spring said. Then she added, “I have to get through this test first, but then I'll be free all weekend.” They both smiled. The event they had tickets for was a one-day rave festival at a nearby fairgrounds. Because the festival was so close to Halloween, costumes were encouraged. Lisa had just gotten back from purchasing her costume, and wanted to show it off. “Do you want to check out what I'm wearing tomorrow?” Lisa asked. “Yeah, lemme see!” Spring replied, excited. Lisa walked over to a shopping bag she had set down by the door to Spring's bedroom. She reached in and pulled out a beautiful full-body fox costume, and held it up. “Wow, that's so you. You're going to look amazing!” Spring said, nodding. Lisa smiled, because she thought so, too. “John helped me pick it out,” Lisa explained, referring to her boyfriend. She continued, “And he's going as a wolf. Have you decided on your costume yet?” Spring blushed. She had decided, but was having second thoughts about her plan. She breathed in and gathered her determination. As nervous as it made her, this event was the perfect opportunity. “Yes, let me show you,” Spring said as she made her way to the closet. She reached in and pulled out her costume. There was a jacket covered in fur, furry thigh-high boots, and bunny ears on a headband, but no pants. “Where’s the rest of the costume?” Lisa asked, puzzled. Spring blushed again. “I...think I'm going to just wear a diaper with nothing covering it,” she said. Lisa responded with a shocked, but amused expression. Spring felt both embarrassed and excited as she explained to Lisa what she was thinking. “It's been about six months since Steve moved away, and I haven't been with anyone. I've just been focused on school and music,” she said. “I know we broke up because of my peeing and diapers. I don't blame him...and I am who I am.” Spring felt nervous about explaining the next part. “I want to meet someone who appreciates all of me, even the weird parts…especially the weird parts, really. And because tomorrow's event is a costume rave, I can wear almost anything and get away with it,” she said with a coy look on her face. Lisa was beginning to understand her thinking. “So instead of wearing a diaper under your clothes, like you normally would...” Lisa began to say. But Spring finished her sentence in an unexpected way. “I want to use them to go man fishing!” Spring exclaimed, and giggled. Lisa nodded, because she understood her logic. “I'll make sure John is cool with it. I'm so excited for you.” Lisa said aloud, but in her gut were pangs of jealousy. Lisa was closer to Spring than anyone else in the world, and that included her own family and boyfriend. She did not mind Spring's bathroom habits or diapers at all. In fact, she was secretly intrigued by them. But nerves prevented her from ever saying that to her best friend. Seeing her happy meant everything to Lisa, especially after some very challenging years Spring had endured. She definitely deserved to be happy. Whoever she ended up with would have to also accept her kink, which had become her lifestyle. Deep down Lisa felt that person might be her, but she had only known Spring to date guys. Heck, Lisa had only ever been with guys as well. Even though she had feelings for her bestie, if she expressed them she thought it would likely ruin their treasured friendship. Lisa loved her boyfriend John, but what she felt for Spring was something different, something deeper. “I miss cock!” Spring exclaimed. They both giggled. “Yeah, it's time,” Lisa agreed. She fought her jealousy away. Spring had worked hard and earned this opportunity to be happy. They would both be graduating with degrees in a couple of months, and the beginning of post-college life would soon be upon them. Spring's quest to meet someone that shared her kink provided an additional layer of excitement for tomorrow's event. They had their tickets. They had their costumes. They had a plan. Both ladies were already buzzing with anticipation for Friday. “How much more studying do you have to do?” Lisa asked. “I'm basically ready. I'll do a quick review before the exam, but it should be a breeze. Why do you ask?” Spring replied. Lisa wanted to play some music. It was one of her favorite things, and could work wonders to both clear her mind and get her in the headspace for the festival. “You know that set I've been practicing?” Lisa began, and Spring nodded. “I want to use one of the techniques you showed me, but I need your help with it.” Spring smiled and her eyes lit up. “You bet!” She replied excitedly. Music was definitely one of Spring's gifts, and she was always happy to share it with her best friend. Spring grabbed Lisa's hand and walked her out of the bedroom and down the stairs. It did not matter that her padding was swollen and she probably needed to change her diaper. The music was calling.

A Summer with Christina By Meeseeks88 This is a story of fiction and fantasy. Chapter 1 – A New Start At the age of twenty-one, I had finally moved out of my parent’s house and into my own place. It felt great that I could finally be independent and not have to live under the same roof as my Mum and Dad. Even better was the fact that Summer had finally arrived and I had two weeks off work. Everything was falling into place nicely. However, there was a particular reason as to why I was so excited to be finally living on my own. Most people probably wouldn’t understand but I’d had an obsession with nappies for as long as I can remember. I don’t really remember wearing them as a baby but when I was six-years-old, I had a little bed wetting issue. My parents decided the best thing was to keep me in nappies at bedtime. I remembered kicking and screaming about it at the time but as the nights went on, I began to embrace them and enjoyed the comfort and protection that they gave me. After a week or two, I stopped wetting the bed and have never worn a nappy since. As I grew older, I would always get a little excited seeing young mothers changing their babies or seeing a diaper commercial on the TV. Even someone mentioning nappies during a conversation was enough make me feel all giddy inside. The feeling never seemed to leave me. I had always dreamed of wearing nappies again but could never do it whilst living at home. But now that I had my independence, I was finally free to embrace my desire. I had been planning it for weeks and weeks. There was a pharmacy about a twenty-minute walk away from me. I had been there not so long ago with my mother to pick up a few toiletries for my new flat. However, as we had been going up and down the aisles…I saw them. Right at the end of the ‘Incontinence’ aisle was a large stack of adult nappies. I remember my heart racing with excitement at just the sight of them. I knew right then and there that one day I would return. As it turned out, that day was today. I had been waiting for this day for so long. I eagerly got dressed that morning and skipped breakfast. I grabbed my backpack that I used for my job and headed out of the door. The sky was grey and it looked as if it was going to rain. I had made the mistake of dressing for the summer and was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. That wasn’t going to stop me though and I set off. The thought of wearing a nappy had my mind racing. I was finally going to be reunited with that feeling of comfort and embrace that I had experienced all those years ago. Usually, it would take twenty minutes to reach the pharmacy but I’m fairly sure I did it in half that time due to the excitement. As my destination grew nearer and nearer, I felt my palms begin to sweat and my heart beginning to beat a little bit faster. I had finally arrived and was ready to fulfil my desire. I took a deep breath and walked inside. Chapter 2 – Christina The pharmacy wasn’t that busy but there were enough people around to help me blend in. I tried to act as natural as I could and began my journey to the ‘Incontinence’ aisle. As I got closer, it seemed to get busier and I started to wonder if I could actually go through with this. I quickly went down one of the aisles and pretended to browse the deodorant whilst I calmed my nerves. Eventually, the crowd of people seemed to disappear and I decided to take my chance. I walked a bit further down the pharmacy until once again…I saw them. A pack of medium adult nappies was staring me in the face. My heart began to race again as I was now just inches away from the thing that I had wanted more than anything. I took a quick look around to see if anybody was watching before picking up the pack and sticking it under my arm. I did my best to cover the large label that read ‘Adult Nappies’ on the front as I made my way through the pharmacy and over to the cashier. However, I saw a large queue of people standing in line, waiting to be served. Although I could feel myself trembling, I decided not to talk myself out of my purchase and quickly joined the queue. I stared at the floor and focused on my feet as they shuffled closer and closer to the cashier. After what felt like an eternity, I was finally served. I handed the adult nappies to a young gentleman who was serving. I could barely look him in the eye and pretty much threw my money at him. After paying for the nappies, I very quickly stuffed them into my backpack and made sure to zip it up as tight as I could. I had done it. I was officially the owner of some adult nappies. A big grin appeared on my face as I began to make my way towards the exit. Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice call my name. ‘Hi Jake’, said the voice. I turned around to see Christina. She was my mother’s best friend and I had pretty much known her my entire life. I started to panic and could feel myself sweating. How long had she been here?’ I wondered, ‘Did she see what I had purchased?’ ‘Hi Christina’, I replied. ‘Fancy seeing you here’, she grinned. ‘Yeah’, I smiled, ‘I…er…just had to pick something up’. Technically, I wasn’t lying. ‘How is your Mum doing?’ she asked, ‘I’m hoping to pop in and see her this week’. My brain could barely take anything in. I was so focused on leaving the pharmacy that I could only answer in short sentences. ‘She’s fine’, I replied. Christina smiled, ‘well tell her I said ‘hi’. I’ll see you soon’. ‘Will do’, ‘I said and left the pharmacy as quickly as I could. Outside, it had started raining. With a twenty-minute walk ahead of me, I quickly began to make my way back home. I realised that a t-shirt and shorts may not have been the best thing to wear today. That didn’t matter though. My heart was still pounding with excitement as I felt the weight of the nappies in my backpack. I couldn’t wait to get home and try one on. As I continued walking quickly down the road, a car pulled up next to me. As the window rolled down, I saw Christina sitting in the driver’s seat. ‘Hi Jake, I thought that was you’, she shouted out the window, ‘hop in and I’ll give you a ride home’. I quickly began to feel slightly nervous about what I was carrying in my backpack. ‘That’s ok’, I replied as calmly as I could, ‘I don’t mind walking’. ‘Don’t be silly’, she replied, ‘you’ll be soaking wet by the time you get home. You don’t even have a coat’. I quickly realised that I didn’t have much of a choice and so I reluctantly agreed. I got into the car and placed the backpack firmly between my knees. ‘Wow, it’s really starting to rain out there!’ she exclaimed. ‘It sure is’, I smiled, ‘thank you for giving me a ride home’. ‘It’s no problem. Your mother told me that you’d got yourself a new place all to yourself’, Christina said, ‘it’s just around the corner from my house’. ‘I hadn’t even realised’, I chuckled. ‘It’s nice to have some independence. I bet you feel like a big boy now’, she giggled. I smiled nervously. Ironically, with a pack of nappies currently in my backpack, I wasn’t exactly feeling like a ‘big boy’. Christina noticed the backpack between my knees. ‘What’s in the bag?’ she asked curiously. I quickly began to panic. ‘Oh, it’s…erm…I had a sore throat so…erm…I bought some medicine for it from the pharmacy’, I replied. I had never been a good liar and I had a feeling that Christina didn’t believe me. Regardless, she didn’t say anything and we carried on driving. After a few minutes, we were almost back at my flat. I could barely contain my excitement and knew that I would soon be wearing a nappy again for the first time. ‘Would you like to pop to my house for a quick coffee?’ asked Christina. ‘No thanks’, I quickly replied. ‘Oh, no problem’, said Christina sounding almost a little disappointed. I suddenly felt very guilty. I was aware that she lived on her own and she probably wouldn’t mind some company. After giving me a lift home, the least I could do was have a quick coffee with her. ‘Actually, a coffee sounds really nice’, I smiled. Christina smiled back at me as we drove around the corner and stopped outside her house. As we headed inside, I kept my backpack as close to my body as I could. I wanted nothing more than to rip the pack of nappies open and try one on but I knew it was going to be worth the wait. However, as Christina closed the front door behind us, I had no idea that my life was about to change. Chapter 3 – The Truth is Revealed As we walked into the living room, I was asked to take my shoes off. As I did, I noticed that on the coffee table was a children’s colouring book. Christina noticed the confusion on my face. ‘I babysit my niece sometimes’, she said, ‘she was here yesterday’. ‘Ah that explains it’, I replied chuckling, ‘I didn’t think you had any children’. Her smile quickly faded, ‘no I don’t’, she said with a hint of sadness in her voice. As she walked into the kitchen to make some coffee, I was worried that I had upset her somehow. I decided not to worry too much about it and made myself comfortable on the sofa. I put my backpack down on the floor. As I held it tightly between my feet, the urge to look at the pack of nappies became too great. I could barely contain my excitement anymore. ‘Just one little peek isn’t going to hurt’, I thought. I peered my head around the corner to make sure that Christina wasn’t close by. I leant down and slowly opened the zip. I was then greeted by the light blue package with ‘Adult Nappies’ written on the side. My heart began to beat a little faster as I placed my hand around the pack of nappies and gently squeezed it. I could feel the thick padding from the outside and was shaking with excitement knowing that I would be wearing one of them when I got home. Suddenly, Christina walked in with two cups of coffee. Panicking, I quickly zipped up my backpack. However, the backpack didn’t seem to be closing. I looked down and saw that the zip had got caught in the pack of nappies. I pulled harder but the backpack refused to close. ‘Everything alright?’ asked Christina as she saw me struggling with my backpack. ‘It’s fine’, I quickly replied as I desperately attempted to close it, ‘the zip has just got a bit stuck’. ‘Pass it here’, she smiled, ‘I’ll sort it’. ‘NO’, I shouted, taking Christina by surprise. ‘Calm down Jake’, she replied slightly shaken, ‘I was only offering to help’. ‘I’m sorry’, I said as I began frantically pulling on the pack of nappies to try and free the zip. ‘It’s ok’, replied Christina, ‘it looks as if you’ve got something caught on the…’ She suddenly stopped mid-sentence. I looked up at her to see her eyes staring down at the backpack. As I looked back down, the bright blue pack that read ‘Adult Nappies’ was now poking out of the top of the backpack for all to see. ‘Are those…nappies?’ Christina asked. ‘Um…I …erm’, I began to stammer. ‘Well, those aren’t going to help your sore throat’, she giggled before a puzzled look appeared on her face, ‘did you buy those at the pharmacy? Why did you buy nappies?’ I had no answer to give her. I suddenly felt my bottom lip begin to tremble and tears forming in my eyes. ‘Oh, it’s ok’, said Christina as she came over and put her arm around me. ‘Please don’t tell my Mum’, I said sobbing and now fearing that my secret was beginning to reveal itself. ‘Aw of course I won’t’, smiled Christina, ‘it’s nothing to be ashamed of. A friend of mine suffers from a weak bladder and wears protective underwear. I’m sure that if I told your parents, they would support you’. ‘No’, I quickly replied, I don’t have a weak bladder’. ‘Then…why did you buy a pack of adult nappies?’ Christina asked now feeling very confused. I took a deep breath and managed to get my emotions under control. I knew that there was nothing I could say now apart from the truth. ‘I…I just wanted to…try them’, I replied nervously. ‘Why on earth would you want to wear a nappy?’ exclaimed Christina. I shrugged my shoulders. ‘They just looked comfortable’, I said whilst feeling very embarrassed. Christina raised her eyebrow as she tried to understand what I was telling her. ‘So, you just want to go around wearing a nappy…like a baby?’ she asked dumbfounded. ‘I…I guess so’, I replied, ‘please don’t say anything to anyone’. Christina remained silent for a few seconds before pulling her arm away and looking at me. ‘I promise I won’t tell anyone’, she replied. I sighed with relief. ‘I do have a question though’, said Christina. ‘What’s that?’ I questioned. ‘Do you actually know how to put a nappy on?’ she asked. I thought about it for a moment and realised that despite my desire to wear a nappy, I actually had no idea how to put one on. ‘I was just going to figure it out I guess’, I replied shrugging my shoulders. ‘If you don’t put it on properly then it will just fall off’, said Christina, ‘I don’t mind showing you how to do it’. My eyes widened. I suddenly felt very excited. Not only was I getting to wear a nappy again but Christina was offering to put it on me. ‘Would you like that?’ she asked as I sat there trying to control myself. I nodded nervously. She smiled and told me to wait on the sofa whilst she went into the other room. I wasn’t sure what she was doing until she returned with a padded mat and a bottle of powder. As she placed the mat on the floor, I realised that it was a changing mat. ‘It’s happening’, I thought to myself, ‘It’s finally happening!’

Sigh... some mornings even a MegaMax isn't enough. Had a fitful sleep and woke up to wet sheets. Usually I don't have that much trouble, but last night, seemed I wet a few more times than I realized. Poor diaper was HEAVY!!! this morning.