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Wattpad 1 Riley lived a monotonous life. Like any other eleven-year-old girl, she would wake up early in the morning, eat breakfast with a bowl of milk and cereal, brush her teeth and become an athlete to catch the bus that would take her to school, spend five hours listening to her teachers' endless speeches, and write down everything important on her notepad. Friends she had none. Not that she minded the company of others, let's be clear; she preferred to stay in the background and be on her own. In group work she would participate enthusiastically and do her part; when it was over she would go back to being the shy, reserved little girl she was. From time to time she imagined what her life would have been like if she had had friends. Probably, it would have been less boring and static and more eventful. Once, she posed the question to her parents, whose answers did not enlighten her much. Her father Greg told her that having friends fills the days with great excitement, while her mother Helen told her that time passes more quickly and cheerfully if one is in the company of a friend. She was still pondering this on her way home from school. She passed Vito's restaurant, then Mary-Ann's china store, then stopped at the supermarket entrance. She looked at it undecided about her next move. It was quite a long way, at least a 30-minute walk. She had finished her water bottle in the story hour; she would be thirsty even before she entered the residential area. She tapped the left pocket of her jacket, she had her wallet with her, therefore money as well. She was sure of it, she had not used it before this moment. Thus, she passed through the entrance and headed for the bottle counter. She took a fresh water bottle and set off in search of the crates, which in a single moment turned into a full-fledged treasure hunt. She found herself in the meat department, continued to the right, all the way to the back, and arrived at the area dedicated to bread. Puffing, she went back four wards and turned left. She was surprised to see the shelf of baby products on one side and the toy shelf on the other. Motionless as a statue, she admired the baby products side, especially the diapers and wet wipes in their colorful and flashy packaging. She came out of her trance-like moment by shaking her head. She reached over and grabbed a package of Pampers Baby-Dry. Fluffy, she thought. I wonder how they will fit me? Suddenly, Riley was struck with a sense of disgust and placed it back on the shelf. Why had she thought that? Why had she stopped there and held a package of baby diapers in her hands? What was happening to her? She took steps back. Her gaze shifted to a young woman with brown hair and delicate face. She, too, was looking at that section with interest. She stopped at the exact spot where Riley had been perched and picked up the diaper package and placed it in her cart. In that instant, their eyes met. Caught in the act, Riley looked away; her mother had taught her that looking at strangers was rude. She blushed. In complete silence, the lady smiled at her and continued on her way. The little girl took one last look at the shelves filled with diapers and other baby products. She would have liked to buy them and use them. However, there was one detail that hammered in her head: she was an eleven-year-old girl and able to listen to her body, not a baby. She went back to find the speakers, putting this strange episode behind her and hoping it would not happen again. I am a big girl, she told herself. And big girls don't wear diapers. * The next day, Riley was there again looking at those shelves full of light blue packages of Pampers Baby-dry diapers stacked one on top of the other and one behind the other forming an impregnable wall. The real reason she was there was still a mystery, but she didn't care at that moment. She was itching to buy a pack of diapers and a package of wet wipes. She reassured herself by saying, "I'll take them now. I'm going to get them now. I'll take them now." As soon as he took the first step, he would immediately retract it. Then, the air grew tenser and tenser, and Riley tried harder and harder not to panic. She did this seven times in a row. "You still here too?" asked a soft voice. The little girl turned her head to her left; it was the woman she had seen twenty-four hours earlier, dressed in a slightly wrinkled dark blue overcoat and brand-new light blue pants. Her first thought was: What a strange coincidence. "Uh-huh," Riley replied, nodding. His heart began to beat faster. "I'm glad to know I'm not the only person in this lane," replied the adult in a friendly, cordial tone. "I forgot to take the wipes yesterday." The woman fetched them and then returned to Riley. "You seem nervous, are you all right little girl?" Riley nodded hastily, as well as giving an unbelievable smile. The woman looked behind her, then turned her focus back to the little girl with a questioning face. "Why are you here?" she asked as she lowered herself to her height, eyes as clear green as an expanse of grass on a sunny day. Quickly, she added, "If you don't mind me asking." Riley remained silent. Why was this woman asking her that question? Was she a woman who had ulterior motives? Where were the adults at that moment? She began to breathe nervously. The woman realized she was being impetuous toward her, so she repeated the question in a lighter, less inquisitive voice, "What brought you here, honey?" "I... I-I don't know," Riley stammered, taking a few steps back. "Maybe..." "You're interested in these things," replied the woman thoughtfully. "It's nothing wrong, you know." Her eyes lit up. The woman continued. "It's a curiosity that a lot of kids have, so there's nothing wrong with... going back to being a little baby and using baby things. " "Really?" "Yes," she replied, smiling, "you're not crazy, you're a normal kid. You're unique." Riley's eyes became glazed over and she rubbed them with the sleeve of her jacket. "I want to make you a proposition, so you are free to refuse," the woman began. "I'll buy you everything you need and drive you home. What do you say?" Without thinking, the little girl shook her head. Such a proposal could not be refused. And Riley already had a counter-proposal in mind to make to the mystery woman. She took courage and proposed to her, "I have the money and I want to take it... but the only thing I need... is... to know how it fits." The woman smiled. "Would you like me to put it on before we part?" Riley blushed embarrassed and looked away from her. No. No! This was going too far; her private parts remained private! The woman chuckled amusedly, "Just kidding, silly! Just lie on top of it, lift it up until you feel it over your belly, and attach the tapes. If you're having difficulty, watch a YouTube video." Riley nodded and in a low voice thanked the woman, before leaving her field of vision he ruffled her hair playfully and wished her good luck with everything. Would she see her again someday? She took a package of diapers, one of wet wipes and a lotion of moisturizer and walked to the cashier to pay. The cashier who had served her, a woman in her 60s, complimented her on being a diligent and responsible girl. She could not blush upon hearing those sweet words; she wished they had been true! Once outside the supermarket, she felt over the moon, and the smile on her face was proof of that. Now, it remained for her to go home and turn back the clock; the day had taken a decidedly more exciting direction than the usual monotony. 2 Once she got home, Riley put her backpack down in her corner and pulled out everything she had bought at the supermarket. After that, she took them to her room and slammed them inside the closet, to hide them better she decided to throw some of her clothes on it. This was fine for the time being; Mom and Dad rarely came into her room and rarely went to look inside her closet. He ate the last slice of margherita pizza left inside the oven. It tasted terrible, but she didn't care so much as long as it satiated her a little. When the impromptu lunch was finished, Riley put her plate and glass back in the kitchen sink and rinsed them quickly, then set them to drip in the cabinet above the sink, just as her father had taught her, who, in turn, had taught her mother. She always did her homework in the kitchen. Usually she would have done them in her room in absolute peace, but being home alone and having hidden in those four walls her diapers, she could not afford to fail in her school duties. "Business before pleasure," her parents often reiterated to her. Literature was one of the boring subjects she found interesting, especially when it came to writing a short text trying to take a cue from a story written by a famous author. This time, she had to write a short text where the main character thought about a long series of concerns regarding his future. Riley did not have to reread the text from which that exercise originated; she already had in mind what she had to write and set about doing it. It took her ten minutes, then she went on to do the homework for the other subjects. At five in the afternoon, Riley finished the last exercise in math, the subject he hated most in the world. She closed all the books she had on the table, stowed all the pens and pencils scattered in her pencil case, and put them back in the bookcase that preceded the threshold to enter the kitchen. Finally free! She ran to her room, nearly tripping, and closed the door behind her. She approached the closet, every fiber in her body was in trepidation, and her hands wasted no time in opening the doors and throwing onto the floor the clothes she had used hours earlier to hide her loot. She still couldn't believe it, she had actually taken them and they were in her room, waiting to be used. She took the package, the wipes and the cream; with clumsy movements she laid them on the floor and admired them as if she were looking at a treasure made of gold and precious jewels. "What am I waiting for?" she asked herself and opened the package of diapers. She took one out and opened it. She studied it for a moment. Delicate, soft and very stretchy. Perhaps too stretchy for what she had expected, obviously it was a garment that had to fit on a multitude of different sized babies. She would have no problem wearing it, she reflected, since these diapers were the largest size she had found on that shelf. It would have to fit. She placed the diaper on the floor. Before sitting on it, she pulled down her panties and underwear. She took a damp washcloth and gave it a wipe down there, then applied moisturizer. She sat on it-as the lady at the super market had told her-and pulled the front over her belly. She was succeeding, the diaper fit, everything was running smoothly, and it was too early to sing victory right away. She attached the left and right ribbons, the diaper was attached to her body. Riley let out a long sigh. Was she dreaming? Impossible, she could feel her skin telling her, "Hey Riley, you're wearing a diaper!" She wanted to really answer, but her mouth was unable to move. She was living the dream. She stood up, the diaper remained there firmly in its position. It's perfect! An idea came to her: her panties were the diaper she was wearing. She took off her shoes (which she had forgotten she still had on), then slipped off her pants and kicked them onto the bed. Her panties fell onto the soles of her feet, the final step was near. She removed her feet from both ends, picked up her pants and put them back on. She looked at herself in the mirror. There she was: Riley, a normal eleven-year-old girl. The little girl looked down at her bottom, the flat padding of her diaper suggesting that she was wearing one and not normal underwear. She opted to change them for jeans, they turned out to be a better choice, her bottom had taken on its normal shape. Within minutes, Riley tidied up her room. The package safely inside the closet with the wipes and lotion; the underpants and panties in the dirty laundry basket in the bathroom and the washcloth tossed in the basket, again, in the bathroom. Everything was clean and tidy as if she had never been there at any time of the day. Mom and Dad would never suspect. At that moment, the sound of the lock came straight to her ears, then the creak of the door led her from the stairs. "I'm home!" announced Helen, her mother, in a tired voice. "Riley?" "I'm here, Mom." Helen looked at her daughter at the top of the stairs and a reassuring smile formed on her face. "Are you all right?" Riley nodded, "Everything's fine. You?" "Tired" she replied, hanging up her jacket. "Done all your homework?" "All of them." "Great," her mother commented happily. "Now I'll start making dinner. Pasta tonight!" * Greg returned at seven o'clock in the evening. Like his wife, he was wiped out from the endless hours at the office, each day the load was getting heavier and heavier, and keeping up with the various deadlines was beginning to become untenable. Seeing his wife's muse-like face and his little girl again lifted his spirits. "Good evening!" Greg entered the kitchen and curtsied. Riley and her mother greeted him with excitement and enthusiasm. Especially Mom, who kissed him fleetingly so as not to lose focus on preparing dinner. To her, however, he gave her a big hug. The pasta was delicious. Mom had been good at cooking it, and each forkful of spaghetti was a one-way ticket to food heaven. Riley cleaned the plate twice. "Gee, Riley!" surprised Helen. "You were really hungry!" The little girl nodded, smiling. "I'll join in!" added Greg, then swallowed a rolled forkful of spaghetti. Helen and Riley laughed. Dinner continued smoothly. Greg and Helen talked about their days, one more messy than the other, and Riley sat listening to them trying to follow the river of their words. She imagined a long stream of water heading toward a waterfall. Riley did not understand why her imagination was making her see this. What was her head trying to say? Then she felt the stimulus down there, the first of the day, that said softly to her, "Pee!" Oh no... not now! Riley remained composed and calm, she was good at not showing her emotions and passing for a different emotional state than she really felt. Peeing at the dinner table? In front of her parents unaware that she was wearing a diaper? What if she wet her jeans? No, that's too risky! She could get up and go to the bathroom, however, she would have to pay attention to the loudness of the diaper tapes. Mom and Dad would surely have heard the tear. She had no other choice, so she let go. The warm pee all over her as if she had dived into the pool, in less than a few moments the absorbent layer of the diaper absorbed it all inexorably. She felt only an uncomfortable damp sensation. All in all, she liked it. Mom and Dad continued with their talk, never stopping for a glass of wine. At one point, Helen stopped and sniffed the air. Seeing her, Riley did likewise; there was a strange, intense smell. "But where is this smell coming from?" she asked suddenly as she looked around. Greg also sniffed and looked around. "What kind of stench is that?" Riley imitated their movements and behaviors. Now they catch me... Now they catch me... Now they're going to catch me.... MOM AND DAD ARE GOING TO CATCH ME! Riley got up from her seat and with slow, silent steps approached the kitchen exit. But her mother's voice planted her there just a few steps from the door. It was over. "Riley, would you come here for a second?" In a barely audible voice, the little girl said, "Uh-oh." * Helen was puzzled at the sight of the undergarment her daughter was wearing. She turned her gaze to her husband who, like her, had no idea what was going on. With the chandelier light pointed at her, Riley lay there on the table in the living room with her jeans down. Her swollen and yellowed diaper was partially covered by her pink long-sleeved shirt. The little girl had a sorry expression on her face, but she did nothing to hide it, and she did not feel like crying. She looked in vain for her parents' gaze. Helen lifted the girl's shirt in a slow movement, then felt the diaper. Heavy and definitely at the limit of its absorbent capacity. She brought both hands together to remove the left tape, but stopped when Riley spoke in a submissive voice, "Mom... I have everything... in my room." Helen pulled her hand away from the child's waist. "What, honey?" "It's all in my room." Greg went and returned, and in his hands was the opened package of diapers with only one diaper missing. The two adults realized he hadn't had it long. Helen then grabbed her by the arms and sat her down. He gave her a stern look. "We would like an explanation, young lady," her father spoke in a firm voice. Riley sighed defeatedly. "Yesterday, I went to the supermarket to get a small bottle of water. As I was looking for the checkouts, I came across the shelves of products for small children... I went back there today and got all this." Greg looked at Helen, then she took the floor, "Why did you buy diapers?" Riley did not answer. "Riley, answer your mother," her father urged her. "I wanted to... wear them... I wanted to try them on," her voice was about to break into tears. Before bringing her hands to her face to hide it, she concluded, "I just wanted to wear them." Silence. "Wait here, we'll be right back," his mother said, walking away with Greg in tow. * Sheltered in the garage, Greg watched Helen pacing back and forth, intent on finding a foothold in that unpleasant, constantly falling situation. He, too, was as confused as his consort, but he did not let panic drive him. He pondered for a long time, then asked her, "What are you going to do?" Helen replied tartly, "I don't know Greg!" "It doesn't look like anything scary to me. It's better than seeing her with drugs in her hand." Helen gasped impatiently. "Gregory, for God's sake, what are you saying?" "I'm saying it's nothing scary. It's just ... diapers." "Just diapers?" she exclaimed exhaustedly. "Just diapers..." he replied uncertainly. "But it's not the end of the world, Helen." "You think if I let her wear them, she'll be okay?" "That might be a good idea," Greg replied sympathetically. "Let's see how the situation develops and-" "And?" "And we'll decide later what to do," he concluded. "Now, how about we worry about her dirty diaper?" Helen watched the door and nodded conflictedly. "I'll need some help changing her, I'm pretty rusty, you know." "All right, now let's get back to her, please." * "Wipe," Helen said, and Greg handed it to her. After that she rubbed it around Riley's private regions, who was enjoying the moment. Once thoroughly cleaned, Helen lifted her bottom, removed her soiled diaper and ordered her trusty colleague a clean diaper. Her husband slipped it off the package and started playing with Riley as he had when she was smaller. As the two of them played, and with a decisive move, Helen stole the diaper from her husband's hands, opened it and tucked it under her daughter's bottom. In a commanding voice, she announced, "Cream?" Greg handed it to her. In no time, Helen slathered it on her and closed her diaper. The magical moment ended in that instant of silence. "Now off to bed, young lady! We'll talk about this tomorrow, okay?" her mother told her in a loving voice. "Okay," and the little girl ran toward the stairs. "Mom? Dad?" "Yes, honey?" her father asked. Riley opened her mouth to speak, but then had second thoughts, "Nothing, goodnight." 3 Her parents were already in the kitchen when she came downstairs. From behind the ajar door, Riley heard the vibrating noise of the coffee machine and the sounds Dad made when he sucked milk from his bowl. Neither of them was talking; what had happened last night had shaken them to the point that they could no longer have a normal conversation, Riley surmised. She could not go back up to her room, her mother would come to wake her up and ask questions again about the.... At that moment, Riley remembered the diaper she was wearing. It had been years since she had peed in bed, and now that she was wearing a diaper, her old problem was back. "Yikes," she said as she pulled her pajama pants forward and looked at the bulging diaper. "Riley?" her mother called her from the kitchen. "Honey, is that you?" Riley pushed open the door. "Good morning." "Did you sleep well?" asked her father cozily. Riley nodded and sat down in her usual place. After that, her mother also joined them, holding her cup of freshly brewed coffee. "Are you okay ... down there?" her mother asked curiously, catching sight of the little girl's pants. "Um..." stammered Riley impishly. "Maybe not." "Don't worry," her mother snapped at her in a soothing tone, "later, we'll fix it." "Okay." "Do you want cereal or cookies with a bowl of warm milk?" her father proposed as he stood up. "I'm not... in the mood... in the mood for breakfast, Dad." "Are you sure?" "Yes," replied Riley confidently. "In your opinion, am I crazy?" Both Greg and Helen were horrified by her question. They looked at each other for a moment, without thinking twice Greg reassured her, "No, no, no. You are not crazy, you are perfect just the way you are." Riley's eyes began to glaze over. "Even though ... I want to wear diapers? Even though ... I'm 11 years old?" Greg opened his mouth to answer, but Helen beat him to the timing. In a firm, loving voice she said, "Yes. If that's what you want, we'll let you." "Really?" the little girl asked, wiping away a tear that ran down one eye. Then she looked her mother straight in the eye. "Yes," she reassured her. "But there will be rules." Riley looked at her mother and father interdictedly. "Rules? What kind of rules?" Greg was also puzzled, but said nothing. Her mother Helen resumed speaking. "If you want to wear a diaper, just tell us and we'll put it on. This implies that only Dad and I will be able to change you and, most importantly, check it if you had an "accident." "If you would not like to wear it and put on big girl panties, just tell us and we will accommodate you. This is first rule. All clear?" "Yes," Riley answered truthfully. She had never taken her eyes off her mother throughout the whole talk. "Second rule: the diaper issue stays between us. It will be our secret. You will only wear it when it's just the three of us. Before you ask, you won't wear it at school, the reason you can guess for yourself," Helen explained. "Fair enough," commented the 11-year-old. "Can I wear it when I go out with you?" "Yes," replied Greg confidently. "I remind you that only Mom and I are aware of your 'secret.' Keep that in mind." "Are there any other rules?" asked Riley innocently. "Nothing else comes to mind at the moment," said Greg then asked his consort, "Do you have any other rules in mind?" "I have nothing to add at the moment." "I do have an addition in mind," Riley spoke cautiously. "But it's not a rule, can I make it anyway?" Helen and Greg exchanged a doubtful look, but they both wanted to hear what their little girl had to say. It was Helen who gave her the floor. "I'd like to get some pull-ups," Riley began determinedly, and seeing the doubtful looks from her parents, she had to make a long speech, "They're panties that are also diapers. If I started wearing diapers, I would start peeing or doing number two without me knowing it. With pull-ups I can go to the bathroom as if I were wearing regular panties. "They are easier to put on. You would rip the sides and slip it on like regular panties. They also have a symbol on the front to tell if I need to be changed." "I have two questions," Greg said puzzled. "When would you wear them? Then, how do you know all these things?" "I'll answer the second question: it's all written on their packages. Answering the first, I could put them on alternately with my underwear to stay trained to go to the bathroom at all times," the little girl answered excitedly. "They can also come in handy for going out," commented Helen. "I think we've talked enough, how about we go get ready?" "To go where, Mom?" "We're going shopping, honey," replied her mother, taking her by the hand and walking her out of the kitchen. "Where are you going?" asked Greg curiously. "We're going to get ready," replied Helen playfully. "Someone needs a clean diaper." * Riley was surprised by her mother's skill and care in cleaning her and putting on her new diaper. The night before it seemed like it was one of the first times she had done it; today, however, she was a veteran with a long experience behind her. "Done," her mother told her as she attached the last tape. "Get changed and remember to put on something that will hide the diaper better." The little girl opted for a long dark green sweatshirt and a pair of black jeans. In front of the mirror, even she could not tell if she was wearing a diaper. Great, I'm ready. Thirty minutes later, mother and daughter, hand in hand, entered the supermarket. Helen was struck to see that sincere smile on her daughter's face. She could not remember when was the last time she had seen her smile like that. Finding the pull-ups was as easy as drinking a glass of water. Riley was over the moon in grabbing the package. Seeing the caricatures of cartoon characters on a pink background left her speechless. She found them as gorgeous as the diaper she was wearing. After paying, they returned home. Once they returned, Helen took the opportunity to check her diaper. She took her to herself, pulled down her jeans and felt her well: she had peed, she had peed a lot! She led her to her room, The little girl threw herself on the bed, eager to be changed clean. "Mom, can I put on one of the pull-ups?" asked Riley as her mother opened her diaper. She grabbed a washcloth and set about cleaning her private parts. Not thinking much about it, she replied, "All right, but when you have to go to the bathroom you have to tell us." Having finished cleaning her thoroughly and applying the cream, Helen helped Riley put on her first pull-up. The little girl did, quite literally, jump for joy. "How are they?" asked her mother. "It's a cross between a diaper and underwear. They are so comfortable!" replied the 11-year-old happily. Helen rolled up the soiled diaper, then said to her, "I'm going to make lunch. Remember to go to the bathroom and rememtell us, okay?" "Okay, Mom," she slipped on her jeans. Just before her mother came out of her room, Riley called her. "Thank you," she told her. Helen smiled at her and left. For a moment, Riley felt like the luckiest little girl in the world. 4 The following Monday, as per routine, Riley went to school and came home. The day had given her quite a few surprises: a surprise history test, a math quiz, and pair work in art class. She had done the test and the quiz to the best of her knowledge, all thanks to her method of study that allowed her to defend herself well even in the most reluctant questions. Surely the test went well, she told herself. The art hour, however, put her to the test. She had never had much inclination for artistic and creative subjects-except for writing where she felt she had mastered the real thing-too abstract and poorly understood. Had it not been for Theo to guide her, the blank canvas would have become her definitive work that would have enshrined her in the long line of bad artists. Theo. It was rare that a classmate of hers intruded into her endless stream of thought. It seemed to her that she was discovering his existence for the first time. Like her, he was shy, solitary and unreachable. Those thoughts made her lose her appetite, so she went to her room to put on some more comfortable clothes to stay in, including putting on a pull-up. She grabbed her backpack and immediately set out to do her homework; she planned to spend the afternoon doing whatever she wanted. With the last science exercise completed, the little girl stood up and stretched. The rumbling of her stomach reminded her that she had skipped lunch, she looked at the clock: it was two o'clock in the afternoon. She had better eat something. She put a piece of frozen pizza in the microwave oven, set the temperature and time - 10 minutes - and pressed the "START" button. She waited sitting at the table. The ringing of the phone made its way through all the rooms,m until it reached the kitchen. Riley sprinted to the living room where the phone was located, picked up the handset and in a nervous voice said, "Hello?" "Hey, Riley, it's Theo," said the voice with a bit of insecurity. "Am I disturbing you?" "Hey, Theo," she greeted him, then answered happily, "no bother. Tell me everything." "I just wanted to ask you how you found yourself working with me today," he said cautiously. "I saw you ... angry, I wanted to know how you were." Riley bit his lower lip, and without his noticing a drop of pee ended up in her diaper. Theo was telling the truth, during that hour of class she felt like a complete wimp, a no-good. At one point, just before the end of class, she roared all her frustration at him. She sighed thinking back to those thirteen seconds that seemed interminable, then answered him in a sincere voice, "I'm fine. I've calmed down and..." She paused to sigh again. "I'm sorry I acted that way. It usually doesn't happen to me to-" "Of not being able to do something right?" the companion on the other side added promptly. "I know how that feels." Riley smiled, wondering if Theo could have seen it. No, he couldn't have seen her; who knows where he lives!" she told herself. "So, do you forgive me?" "Even if you didn't apologize to me, I'd still forgive you," Theo said casually. "Would you like to come over and finish the task?" She missed a beat. Had she heard correctly? A classmate of hers asking her to come over? Yes, she had understood correctly. She would have wanted to say yes immediately, but what if Mom and Dad had said no? Riley answered uncertainly, "I have to talk to my parents about it first. If I'm not mistaken, your parents should have their numbers? At least they should have my mom's." Theo muttered something (or so it seemed to Riley). "Yes, my mom told me she has both, but she prefers you to talk to them directly." Riley brought her hand to his temple in disbelief. Of course she was going to talk to them directly about it! He replied, "When they come back I will talk to them about it. Let's stay that way for now." "Alright, I'll talk to you later or possibly tomorrow," he concluded, then said goodbye to her, "Have a great rest of your day. Bye Riley!" "You too, Theo! Bye!" and hung up. At that exact moment, the squeaky, annoying sound of the oven alerted her that her snack was ready. She jumped off the couch, but something stopped her on the spot. What the... The little girl touched the front of her pull-up. It was hot and the front symbol was slightly faded, but it wouldn't be long before it disappeared completely. "I better go pee before I get it all over me," she confuted to herself aloud, as if there was another person with her, and went to the bathroom. * The pizza tasted like cardboard. The tomato and cheese had lost their distinctive flavors; the dough was the only decent thing that managed to convince her to go all the way through it, every last bite. The cold pull-up began to bother her, especially between her legs. Rule one was pretty clear. If you want to wear a diaper, just tell us and we'll put it on. This implies that only Daddy and I will be able to change you and, most importantly, check it if you had an "accident." When she put on the pull-up, Riley had not heeded to the rules they had imposed on her that Saturday morning. She couldn't wait for Mommy (or Daddy) to come home and clean her up and put a clean diaper on her. They would come to know that she had transgressed one of the rules. She made up her mind: she would tell the truth. She thought back to what had happened that night. She brought her legs against his chest and hugged them, their puzzled faces still well in her mind. At that moment she made a promise to herself: No more secrets and no more lies to Mom and Dad. To chase those thoughts away, she went up to the second floor, went to her room to get a book and headed for the bathroom to pee. * Riley was engrossed in reading that she paid no attention to her mother entering the house. In fact, it was her appearance in the kitchen that brought her back to reality. The little girl began to break into a cold sweat. "I didn't know you were reading," Helen exclaimed in surprise. "Did you do all your homework?" Riley nodded a nervous smile. She was not good at masking her emotions, and Helen immediately sensed that something was wrong. She asked her, "Honey, is something wrong?" Riley suddenly got up from her chair with still that smile that Helen found annoying. She hastily replied, "Yes, yes, yes, Mom! Everything is fine! I'm just glad you're back!" Helen gave her a guarded look. "Why are you acting like this? It's not like you." True, Riley couldn't blame her; she couldn't explain that strange behavior. She gave a tense giggle, then calmed herself by taking three deep breaths. There, she was about to tell her, "Mom, do you remember the rules you gave me for diapers?" Her mother nodded and crossed her arms. He looked her straight in the eye, from her face she was not at all pleased. She asked in a haughty tone, "Are you wearing one now and need to be changed?" "I'm wearing a pull-up," the sorry little girl hastened to say. "Sorry, I couldn't resist." Helen looked up at the ceiling. "I should have expected you to wear one in our absence. By the way, again!" Riley looked down guiltily, turning her toes back over each other. Helen continued brooding, but on the verge of scolding her. "I appreciate you telling me, Riley. However, your father and I gave you rules for a reason. These aren't toys; they can harm your health if misused. Being in one of those things for a long time could give you a skin rash. Do you understand?" She turned her gaze to her and nodded. "Now we're going to go up and give you a good cleaning," he told her. "Until I talk it over with your father, you're going to wear big girl panties. Diapers and pull-ups are off-limits!" "All right," Riley said, and her mother escorted her to the bathroom. * "Today I got a call from Theo, a classmate of mine," Riley began as her mother removed her dirty pull-up. "We have an art assignment we have to finish. He asked if I would be free to go to his house tomorrow. Do I have your permission to go?" Helen rubbed her nether regions well and then replied, "We'll talk about it tonight over dinner with your father, okay?" "Okay," replied Riley meekly and let her mother finish cleaning her. "No diaper? Not even for the night?" Helen shot her the look. Riley sighed in disappointment. "Understood." "Would you tell me what you understood?" her mother questioned her in a stern voice. "I understood that not following the rules has consequences." "So?" "You will not put me in a diaper now or before going to bed." "What will you do before you go to bed?" "I will go to the bathroom and pee like a big girl." "I guess you've learned your lesson, at least for now," Helen concluded contentedly. 5 Riley remained silent for most of dinner. The talk she had with her mother in the bathroom monopolized her thoughts; she began to think that they would confiscate her diapers and throw them into oblivion. He found rule one unfair, why could only her mother and father get their hands on her diaper, despite the fact that she had managed to put on a diaper by herself without anyone's help? Adults are weird!" she thought. "You're quiet today," her father began curiously, "did something happen?" Riley looked up from her empty plate and looked at her mother. With her gaze, she was telling her to tell her father what she had done. "Yes, something happened," the little girl replied indifferently. "In fact, two things happened." "Which one do you want to start with?" interjected Helen, feigning curiosity. "A classmate of mine called me today," Riley began a tad excitedly, "Theo Bennett. We have to finish our pair work for Professor Towers, he asked if I could go to his house tomorrow to finish the project and do homework together." "I don't see why not," Greg drank a glass of wine. Then he turned to his consort, "Did you say yes too?" Helen smiled at him. "Yes. Her friend lives nearby and His parents are willing to have her as a guest for lunch. So of problems we don't have any, is it okay for you to pick her up in the evening? That way I have time to take care of some chores around the house." Greg nodded and smiled at his daughter. He commented happily, "I didn't think you had a friend!" "Yeah," Riley laughed nervously. He didn't really consider Theo a friend; he was more of an acquaintance, almost a stranger. Who knows why his father had already labeled him as his friend? "What about the other thing?" asked Greg then casually. Riley's face darkened for a moment; she felt the conversation would take a turn for the worse. She sensed her mother's stern look. Okay Riley, you can do it. It's like an interrogation: beginning, explanation, conclusion. "Here..." the little girl spoke softly. "Today I... wore a pull-up on the sly." A contented smile took shape on Helen's face, glad to hear Riley admit her mistake and direct it to her better half. Greg sighed dejectedly. "So, you're telling us you wore a diaper in our absence?" "Pull-up, Greg," Helen corrected him. Greg quickly repeated his question, but corrected. "Yes, Daddy," Riley replied sadly. "That's the first thing I did when I came home. Then Mom came and I told her everything. I'm sorry." "Did you pee there?" asked her father tensely. Helen intervened, "From what I understood, yes and no. She had peed some before I came back, then she peed again just before I changed her and cleaned her up. So, she did it twice." Riley blushed full of embarrassment. Was that a detail to point out? "Is she wearing another one now?" asked Greg to his wife, forgetting his daughter's presence. "Big girl's panties," Helen replied. "I have a punishment in mind to give her for transgressing the rule." "Shall we talk about it now? In front of her?" "No," Helen replied, remembering that Riley was there with them. "There's something I'd like to point out to both of you." She paused. As long as she had all eyes on her, Helen continued with her speech, "This is especially about you, Riley. Today while I was changing you, I noticed that you hadn't given yourself a good scrubbing down there. Tell me out of curiosity, did you go to the bathroom once today?" "Yes, I went," replied Riley downcast. "After I noticed that I had slightly wet my pull-up." "You gave yourself a scrub, didn't you?" Her mother asked. Riley shook her head. "You know that after you pee you have to clean yourself up down there," her mother scolded her. "That's why I've decided that every time you come out of the bathroom, you have to come to me so I can take a look at you. We'll start tonight." Riley did not protest. Her mother was right; she could do nothing but humor her. "All right." A brief silence followed, and both Greg and Helen got up with their dishes in hand to go put them back in the dishwasher. Riley sat there in her seat, her fear of no more diapers making her eyes glaze over. "Will you take them away from me forever?" asked Riley fearfully. Both her parents approached her. "No," her mother consoled her. "We don't want to take away your diapers, if you want to take them, we won't object. We are doing this to teach you, to teach you to be more responsible." Riley pulled up her nose. "Why can't I wear them by myself?" "Because we want to take care of you," her mother promptly replied. "As well as making sure you get cleaned properly." "Thank you," said Riley and hugged her mother, then hugged her father as well. "We are here, honey," her father told her, then her daughter broke the hug. Riley took her plate and put it in the dishwasher, next to her parents' plates. She helped them clear the table and then they went to the living room to watch a movie. * "Am I disturbing you?" asked Helen in a low voice. She was in the doorway to her bedroom. "No, tell me," replied Riley and closed the book he was reading. "Come in." "I've come to take you to the bathroom," she announced, holding out her hand to her daughter. "Even if you don't run away, I want to make sure you go to the bathroom before you go to sleep." Riley grasped her hand and let herself be carried away. She did not find this new custom fair; she was a big girl, not a little girl. "Mom! I'm 11, I know when I have to go to the bathroom!" whined Riley. "I know," laughed her mother. "But sometimes, moms want to make sure their kids go to the bathroom before they go to sleep." Entering the bathroom, without letting go, Helen positioned Riley in front of the toilet. The little girl felt uncomfortable; her mother's presence put her under great stress. She wanted to tell her, but nothing would change her mind about going out and giving her a moment of privacy. Her mother knelt down and proceeded to gently lower her pants, Riley could not help but blush. After that, she told her softly, "What are you waiting for? Sit down and try it." The little girl obeyed resignedly, as well as red in the face like a tomato. The toilet was cold, but her mother's reassuring gaze caught her attention. She smiled at her and let go. "All done?" she asked her as soon as the tapping turned to silence and the little girl nodded confidently. "Good, now on your feet." Riley stood up, then her mother tore off three pieces of toilet paper. With gentle forward motions she cleaned it under there. She repeated those gestures five times, subsequently flushing the paper down the toilet. Riley recognized the pattern; she used to do this when she was younger. Same care and gentleness, she seemed to have gone back in time. "That's how you should wipe," she concluded in a calm, teacher's voice. "Always forward, never backwards. Minimum five times, if you want to be sure give it three more passes. All clear?" "All clear," she answered truthfully, lifting her underpants and underwear in one go. "Thank you, Mommy." "You're welcome. I'm going to bed," announced her mother as she returned to her feet. "Flush and brush your teeth. Oh, before I forget, tomorrow when you come back, I'll take a look at you. Good night, honey." "Good night, Mommy," he told her before squeezing the flush lever. * "What did you have in mind?" asked Greg already under the covers. "I don't know yet," replied Helen doubtfully. "We could use diapers as a reward when she behaves." "Helen," he spoke exasperatedly, "she is a good girl. She studies and behaves well." "A good girl sneaks a pack of diapers, puts one on and pees in front of her parents?" pointed out Helen annoyed. "She didn't even follow the rules we gave her on Saturday!" "I don't understand why you have to punish her." "Greg, she sneaked a diaper!" reminded Helen, her voice frustrated. "When did we put her in a diaper?" began Greg meditatively. "Monday through Friday, only in the evening and at night. Saturday and Sunday she could wear it all day. You know what I mean?" Helen furrowed her brow. "No." "Riley doesn't enjoy them enough. Only two days. No wonder she wants to sneak them on," Greg enlightened her. "And you want to punish her even though she told you the truth." "We can't help it, our jobs keep us away from her," Helen replied. "She won't bring them this weekend, that's decided." "Then you don't understand," blurted Greg. "When she brings it, she's happy. Even with the pull-ups, she's happy. Isn't that clear to you?" "It's quite clear to me," Helen replied curtly. "I want to teach her that choices have consequences. When we had caught her with that dirty diaper, we did nothing. "I don't want Riley to get into this bad habit of doing what she wants on the sly." Greg got up and went to sit beside his wife and kissed her left cheek. "She would never do that," he said in a sultry voice. "You know the thing she hates most is to hurt us. That's why she told you the truth today." A tear streaked down her face. "Do you think she'll take it badly if I tell her she can't wear diapers this weekend?" "Will she take it badly? Yes, definitely." "It's decided, this is her punishment." "You know I'm against it right?" "Yes, but you'll have to humor me this time," Helen concluded and began to snog him. 6 Theo no longer had the strength to hold his head up to pay attention to the lesson of Mrs. Daniels, the literature teacher. He had the crazy idea of resting his head on his desk, his nose and forehead attached closely to the notebook paper. He did not care if the middle-aged woman saw him and scolded him. Riley, unlike her desk mate, could keep up with her lengthy explanations. Eyes following her every movement and her right hand writing on the notepad every word that came from her thick lips. Mrs. Daniels walked over to the blackboard and began to draw a diagram that looked like an upside-down tree. At the top and middle she wrote "How to write a horror story" and drew three arrows far apart. "How do you keep from falling asleep?" asked Theo in a low voice at one point. "I stay awake and listen," she answered quietly. Theo changed position. He stretched out his arms on the bench and rested his chin on the bench. She said in a half-asleep voice, "I can't wait for it to be over." She wanted it too, damn right she did! Riley felt she was at the end of her rope. Listening and writing at the same time took a large chunk of her energy, which, after four hours of class, she had none left. To avoid falling behind, the 11-year-old began writing as fast as she could; readability would suffer greatly. Half an hour later, the last bell of the day rang. Mrs. Daniels said she would explain the third arrow the next day, but the buzz of her students' voices prevented her words from reaching their ears. Getting angry was useless now. She grabbed her smartphone and took a picture of the blackboard, then began to put all her things in her backpack. For her, too, the day had turned to an end. "Mrs. Daniels?" a female voice called to her that she recognized. "Yes, Riley?" "You dropped this," she said and handed her dirty, weather-worn blue case. "I thought something was missing," she exclaimed in surprise as she grabbed the object. Most likely it had fallen from the desk during the general marasmus. She thanked her in a kind voice, then asked, "Do you have any doubts about today's class?" "Um..." she hinted uncertainly as she flipped through her notepad. "I actually would have one." Mrs. Daniels looked at her watch. It was 1:20 in the afternoon. She had to go to lunch with her colleagues and was, punctually, late. "You will bring it to me tomorrow, I really have to run now. Study mind you," she told her mortified and hurried out. "Of course she has to run," the little girl commented irritably and set off to join her friend downstairs. * "So," Theo began thoughtfully, "what do you think about . um... geography?" Riley thought about it before giving her answer. She loved geography. Finding out the customs, the lifestyle of the inhabitants, the strengths of the economy, and the brief history of a state in the world excited her so much. Unfortunately, this subject fell into the "I hate this subject because of the teacher" group. "Nice for goodness sake," replied Riley holding back an edge of anger, "but Mr. Johnson is making me hate it." "Then it's a common thought," Theo said, then asked her another question. "Let's get off the subject of school shall we? What do you do in your spare time?" I sneak around and use diapers! Ha ha ha! If I answered him like that, he would think I was crazy. Ha ha ha ha! Riley held back a laugh at that thought, although there was nothing funny about it. Theo looked at her puzzled. "Never mind," Riley hastened to say, "I read and write. Do you?" "I read too!" gave a toothy grin Theo, nearly baring her way. "What kind of books do you read?" Riley hinted with a smile. If she had had a diaper on, she would have peed from excitement. But at that moment she didn't have one, so she had to restrain herself as any big girl would. She cleared her throat, then answered him, "I mainly read fantasy books, occasionally I read normal books." "Normal books?" "Books that are not in the fantasy or science fiction genre," she explained to him. "Mom is convinced that I like them a lot, so she gets them for me." "For example?" asked Theo curiously. He seemed to know the genres in question. "The last ones she got me are about friendship, simple and mundane and without any elements that manage to stand out from other books dealing with the same topics," Riley accentuated her feeling of annoyance toward the end. "Sometimes I wonder why my mother gets me such books, even though I don't like them." "Do you remember the names by any chance?" asked Theo without losing interest. "I ask because I only read those kinds of books." "Books about friendship?" "No, children's fiction books," Theo pointed out. "The fantasy genre doesn't appeal to me much." "Oh," said Riley slightly disappointed. "Anyway, the names of those books are When We Were Together and Ashes. I could have done without reading them." Theo retorted offended, "You can't say Ashes sucks! It's the only one that manages to touch chords that other books in the same genre can't!" "For example?" questioned Riley in a defiant tone. "The whole story revolves around the so-called 'invisible string theory,' " Theo began to explain, "according to which a person is nothing more than the center of an infinite set of strings that connect him to other centers-which are other people. I point out right away that this does not exist in reality, but still, the protagonist - Paul - becomes the epicenter of the pain of every single character he interacts with. "This is where the main themes of the story surface: the desire to connect to others and the outside hand that helps those who are suffering. Paul is a loner, whether he likes it or not he needs to be around people, so he joins the group of losers ignored by everyone and constantly targeted by bullies. "As he spends his time with them he realizes that he too has his own limitations and difficulties to overcome. So he decides to help them overcome their fears and difficulties, they also do the same for him. When Richard and Izzy die in the car accident, Paul begins to wonder if all this connecting with each other is really worth it, so he becomes the spark that destroys all the strings that bind to him. "Needless to say, this is his reaction to their death and that talking to someone about it kept him from destroying the last, most important bonds he still had: his new friends and his family. The ending in which he and his friends throw their ashes at the lake where they first met is the symbol-and the title-of the play." Riley stood in silence surprised to have heard an explanation that only she could have brought up if she had discussed it with another person who was not interested in books. Theo was a reader like her; his attention to detail was identical to hers. It was true!" she told herself. It had not happened in her head! It had happened for real! "Wow!" was the only thing she managed to say. Then Theo stopped in front of an empty driveway that led to a two-story white house. "Here we are. This is my house, welcome!" In that instant, Riley realized that she had removed from her mind the fact that she and Theo were walking to his house. Their conversations had overridden their perceptions of reality, at least hers since Theo was in charge of taking her to his house. They had passed by her house and she had not even noticed! She felt lost for a moment. Mom was right, he lived not very far from her house and the other dwellings were very reminiscent of hers. Getting lost was impossible; she would find her way back in no time. The kids approached the front door. Theo rang the doorbell and saw Riley looking around, but it did not take her long to realize that it was the same porch she had at home. They were greeted by her father, Hank Bennett. An all-American man, broad-shouldered and fully fit, he wore a tank top and long pants. Both the 11-year-olds were speechless to see him in such attire in the middle of winter. "Hey, guys!" Hank greeted them, then turned to the little guest. "You must be Riley, very nice to meet you!" "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Bennet," replied the little girl politely, then proceeded to remove her jacket. "Call me Hank," the man quickly put in an amused manner. "I may be an adult, but I'm not that adult, you know? I still feel like a 20-year-old kid!" Both Theo and Riley burst into thunderous laughter. "Take off your shoes and go wash your hands, lunch is ready," announced Hank and then hurriedly headed for the kitchen. In the bathroom, Riley was the first to wash her hands. Theo suggested that she go first because he had been told that, and I quote, males must know how to behave well with females, as they are the fairer sex, so they had to go first. Hearing this, Riley had to hold back laughter. "Really?" was his response. Theo replied gallantly, "Yes, milady. You ladies are viewed differently than we gentlemen. Therefore, we ask you not to express criticism of our manner." This time she could not hold them back and burst out laughing for the second time; he had been in her house for just over ten minutes and was already fighting not to pee her pants from the laughs. 7 Mr. Bennett had cooked excellent steaks: flavorful, slightly spicy and cooked to the right temperature. Riley filled and cleaned her plate three times; as luck would have it, he had cooked about ten small and medium-sized steaks. Theo was the one who ate the least out of all of them; he justified himself by saying that he did not have much of an appetite. Lunch finished, the two friends helped Mr. Bennet clear the table, after which he left them on his way to his office. Theo explained to Riley that his father worked from home on certain days of the week, and today was one of those days. It would have been nice if her parents had that chance too, the little girl thought to herself. Three o'clock in the afternoon. The two eleven-year-olds were already at work on their couple's project in the kitchen, the only space in the house large enough for them to work on. The week before, Mrs. Towers assigned their class a job to do in pairs: draw a city where the real stars were the buildings. No streets, just buildings and the sky. She would grade all the work and give both components the same grade. She left the barbaric task of creating the pairs to the students, who, in addition to generating chaos, formed balanced pairs. Riley and Theo balanced each other well. She, an excellent art history student and bad artist, and he, a good art history student and very talented artist. Theo came up with a definite idea of how to make the city, the object on which their delivery was based. Four skyscrapers arranged in the shape of a trapezoid, the two forming the minor base in the foreground and the other two - making up the major base - following and well away from the sides of the sheet; surrounded by other buildings with windows colored in colors other than yellow, intended to color all the windows in the trapezoid. Riley, art denier that she was, approved of the idea, but on the condition that they make an informed choice of colors. And there they were, passing the colors around and coloring the multitudes of white squares that remained. Yellow windows (the first ones the duo colored), reds, oranges, pinks, greens, blues, magentas, purples and many other colors caught the attention of anyone who looked at them. The sky was still white with gray insignia of the Moon and the clouds passing in the midst of those black towers, they told themselves that would be the last part they would color. They had set a list for themselves: draw the buildings and skyscrapers with windows; color the windows; draw the clouds; and finally, color them together with the sky. Compared to the time in the classroom, Riley was more relaxed and more confident in coloring the white spaces. Moreover, the silence that enveloped the kitchen room kept her glued to her task. From time to time, she cast glances at her friend to make sure he was doing his part. It wasn't necessary; Theo was devoting his heart and soul to coloring buildings and windows and, every few seconds, supervising their work. It's definitely coming along nicely. Theo and I are not a bad team after all. An hour later, Theo put down the purple marker and gave a tired sigh. Then he asked his friend, "How many windows do we have left?" Riley finished coloring the last window with red and announced it contentedly in a very high tone of voice, after realizing this she apologized. Theo raised his arms to the ceiling in victory. Exhausted, he said, "We are almost at the end." At that point, Riley got up from her seat. "Where's the bathroom, Theo?" "Up, turn left and first door to the left," he answered her in the same voice. "While you go to the bathroom, I'm going to stop and recover too. I'm beat!" Riley walked out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs. He went up to the second floor and turned to the left, as Theo had told him moments earlier, and looked for the bathroom door with his eyes. There it was! It was a plain white door; she lowered the handle and stepped inside. The bathroom furniture was all light blue, like the diaper packaging she had at home, while the walls were a strange white. He observed it closely; it was a white with light blue undertones. So the dominant color of the bathroom was light blue, she told herself and walked to the toilet that was at the end of the room. In front of the toilet, a dark sky-blue dresser stood toward the ceiling, it looked as if it might touch it, but the thin deep black space gave the 11-year-old confirmation that the cabinet was not in contact with the ceiling. Beautiful, she thought as he squared it from top to bottom. She counted six in total. She looked at it again for the second time. The last drawer was open, inside it a package of diapers was illuminated by the light coming from the window. She recognized them; they were Pampers Baby-Dry overnight diapers. Overnight diapers -- wait a minute, does Theo pee in bed? Riley ignored that question and ignored the contents of that drawer. She pulled down her pants and... gasped in disbelief. Her panties were slightly wet, the smell of pee plugged her nose. Oh, come on! Wasting no more time, she pulled them down and sat on the toilet. Theo's diapers and her panties' smell became her fixed thoughts for that minute sitting to relieve herself. It couldn't be true. * In forty minutes, the work was finished and all imperfections removed. Riley and Theo were satisfied, especially him since it had been his idea. "What grade do you think we'll get?" asked Theo of her. "I don't know... maybe an A," Riley replied slightly nervously. "I doubt we'll get a bad grade!" Theo smiled at her, then took the drawing and put it inside the clear envelope he had brought it home with the week before, then put it inside his backpack, being careful not to crumple it. After that, he told her happily, "Mrs. Towers will be impressed with our work." "Mmh-mmh," Riley quipped casually, thinking about the wet underwear against her skin. Mom would surely take her back. "Would you like to see my room?" proposed Theo to her. "I'd like to show you my bookcase." "All right," Riley answered him, smiling. She felt the need to distract herself from everything and turn off her brain. On the stairs, Theo said, "I'm going to the bathroom and then I'll join you. My room is the third door on the right." Suddenly, Riley stopped on the last step terrified. Now? Right now you have to go to the bathroom, Theo? Then in the same bathroom where your diapers are in full view? Oh... maybe I'd better tell him. "Wait a moment, Theo," she hesitated in a serious tone. "There's something I have to tell you." "Can't you wait a few minutes?" the friend implored her. "I'll come in and out." No, I can't wait! In fact, I don't want to wait! "Theo, I saw them!" admitted Riley apologetically. "I went in and saw the open drawer." Theo's face darkened. Riley recognized that expression, even that state of mind. She felt guilty, the same guilt she had when her parents caught her with a diaper on. "So... now you know about my little secret." Riley nodded. "I won't tell anyone, I promise." "I know you won't," Theo told her like it was nothing, then smiled. Silence. "I know you have a lot of questions for me, but I'm going to go to the bathroom first and then we'll talk about it," Theo said as he headed for the bathroom in small steps. Before taking his leave, he reminded her, "Third door on the right!" * Boring. Boring. Super boring! Boring. My goodness, pure boredom! Boring. Riley was standing in front of Theo's bookcase in her room. She was studying the various books he had and, reluctantly, could not find one that would pique her interest. She began to wonder if Theo took those stories seriously. From the titles alone, which were trite and not at all profound - except for "Ashes," which reevaluated her - she could already imagine the other stories. "Gee, Theo," she said boredly. "Besides Ashes, you don't have any exciting books." "I expected this answer from you," he said as he entered his room. Riley jumped in fear. Had she spoken too loudly again? After that, she sat on her bed and watched Theo take two random books from the bookshelf. There was something about him that did not convince her, her eyes studied his butt. Why is his butt so... big? The friend made a leap to grab a book, failed. So he made another, this time succeeding. Twice, his ears picked up rough sounds reminiscent of typical paper noises. At that point, Riley understood: Theo was wearing the night diaper he had seen in the bathroom. What had he put it on for? "Here," Theo told her, handing her two of his books. Ashes and When We Were Together, the two books they had talked about before entering the house. He added hopefully, "Reread them and then tell me what you think." Riley raised her right eyebrow, not understanding this last sentence. "If you want to try to change my mind, you're way off base. Besides, I already have these two at home." Theo resumed them mortified. "I had forgotten we talked about them, but read them again anyway." "Why?" Theo put them on his desk. "Your idea can change you know?" The friend wasted no time in thinking it over. So, she replied doubtfully, "Okay." After that, Theo sat beside Riley on the bed, keeping his distance to respect her "boundaries." He had never stopped smiling. "Whatever questions you have in mind, ask me," his friend prodded her. "Why are you wearing a diaper?" Embarrassed Theo looked down, but pretended not to. How had she guessed he was wearing one? He replied surprised, "I wanted to put it on." "But aren't you supposed to put it on before you go to bed?" "Yes, but sometimes I put it on long before I go to bed," Theo explained, scratching the back of his head. "My parents let me, but as long as I take it off, do what I have to do, and then put it back on. They check on me a lot to make sure I'm following the rules." Riley nodded. Like at home, her parents had given her rules, albeit different ones, and they wanted to make sure she stayed safe. But to Theo, diapers were like regular underwear-that was the subtle difference that made them different. She would have liked to tell him that she wore diapers too, but after what happened recently and her promise, she let that desire disappear from her mind. "Every once in a while... you think you want to... try to... you know," Riley stammered, but she did not understand why. Theo answered naturally; he was just at ease. "Yes, every now and then. Then it comes back to me that I do it in my sleep and the urge goes away. Also because my mom shudders when she has to take it off me. She hates to get her hands on something messy like my diaper after a good night's sleep." "I understand," replied Riley sadly. "It can't be easy for any of you." "Mom and Dad keep trying new methods to get me to stop," Theo admitted bitterly, as if it were an impossible problem to solve. "As I told you, it's my mother who puts it on and takes it off. Occasionally my father does it, but he is not good at cleaning down there. Even though he is a male like me, sometimes it hurts me. That's why I prefer my mother." Riley wanted to tell him, she didn't want to make him feel lonely. That's what she had sensed in his voice. Also mixed in were innocence and regret for being that way. No one has to know, Riley. Just me, Mom and Dad! The three of us! Silence. Riley couldn't resist a minute longer. "Theo, I have a secret too," she began cautiously and truthfully. "I wear diapers, too." "Bedwetting is a common thing among us eight-to-thirteen-year-olds," Theo revealed for the purpose of curiosity. "You don't understand, I wear them all the time," Riley sputtered. "Or rather, only on weekends do I wear them. Morning, afternoon, evening and night. I don't have any medical problems, I just like them. I like their drawings, I like peeing on them and feeling them all around me. And, most of all, the attention my parents give me in taking care of me." Theo remained silent, having no idea what to say. He wanted her to be happy, she wanted him to be happy too, so he hugged her tightly. "Your secret is safe with me, Riley," he told her in a low voice. Riley was speechless, the hug and his words warmed her heart. She was not dreaming, the warmth of her friend made her feel good, safe. She told him in a soft voice, "Yours is with me too, forever." 8 The rest of the afternoon went smoothly. Riley and Theo managed to do all the homework they had and spent the last half hour up in his room talking about the thing that had led them to become best friends: diapers. They stretched out on the floor, wanting to play out a scene from a book they had read where two characters - a boy and a girl - were talking about their problems lying on the floor next to each other. To feel more comfortable, Theo slipped off his pants let the world admire his Pampers Baby-Dry for the night. There was no shortage of shenanigans from his friend where she urged him to wet himself to which he laughed while maintaining full control of his bladder. "Mom picked me up on her shoulder," Riley recounted gesturing toward the ceiling, "we moved to the hall and she laid me down there like I was a baby. Then she tried to take my diaper off, stopped when I told her I had more in my room." "What did she do then?" asked Theo, brushing his diaper. "She went to the garage to talk to my father. They came back together and changed it for me," she replied. "I couldn't believe it: mom and dad changing my diaper at age 11! The next day we discussed this, they set rules for me; I went to the supermarket with my mother and she bought me pull-ups for children who have to learn to use the toilet. They may be small, but boy are they very stretchy!" Theo listened fascinated, at one point asking, "How are the pull-ups?" Riley giggled happily. "Beautiful, it's like you're wearing underwear and a diaper at the same time!" Their conversation went on until six o'clock, the time when Greg, Riley's father, came to pick her up. She said goodbye to her friend and her father, then they walked to the car. When she returned, her mother Helen accompanied her to the bathroom to give her the pre-announced checkup. She pulled down her pants and looked down at her daughter's smelly and still wet panties. "What happened?" he questioned her. Riley explained everything to her, in full detail, the moment she discovered her friend's night diapers and also about the two drops of pee that fell into both her underwear. She blushed with shame. "Next time, sit and watch, don't stand and pee your pants," she admonished her, removing her soiled underwear, then helped her clean herself. At dinner, Riley monopolized the conversation. It was one of the few times the little girl talked so much she almost forgot about the plate of spaghetti on her plate. Her parents listened without ever interrupting her, surprised to find that her best friend - so their little daughter had twice declared - was peeing the bed. Having finished the meal and cleared the table, everyone went to their respective rooms, or almost since Helen forced Riley to follow her to the bathroom for the second time all day. The 11-year-old repeated the same instructions her mother had given her the day before with some uncertainty, did a fair amount of work that her mother completed. After that she gave her the report, "You need to pay more attention, Riley! You cleaned yourself up like you were late for something!" The little girl nodded and yawned; she couldn't take it anymore already. She brushed her teeth and went to her room, she definitely wanted to end this heavy day with a good night's sleep. She threw herself on her bed, at that moment someone knocked. "Come in!" It was her mother, she wanted to talk. He crossed the door and went to sit on one side of his bed. She admitted in a feeble voice, "I need to tell you something." "What is it, Mom?" asked the little girl as she sat down. "Your father and I have discussed it and decided on your punishment: for the rest of the week, you will not wear diapers. Starting next Monday, you can wear them, provided-" "As long as you or Dad are there to put them on me," Riley concluded in a saccharine voice, the tone her mother hated most of all. "I know Mom, I've learned my lesson." Helen did not get angry at her tone of voice; she preferred to let it go and go to bed. Like her daughter, she too wanted to sleep. She wished her a good night and headed to her room. * The diaper-free weekend arrived and passed in a second. Riley spent those forty-eight hours with her parents tidying up the house, that is, tidying up the attic. None of them would have expected that tidying it up would take two days, evenings included. It was Helen who had suggested this activity; staying still, lazing on the couch in the living room waiting to do something stimulating was bringing her a nervous breakdown. Greg, too, was trying not to sit idle; he took to reading a computer book in the kitchen, next to Riley who was studying the ticking of the clock in a bored manner. The third floor had been labeled "the oblivion," the place where everything that had ceased to have a definite use ends up. It was his parents who had given him that name, following an argument they had had that ended in a rather ambiguous way: suddenly, they forgot what they were arguing about. The entire room was chock-full of furniture and boxes with no writing to identify their contents. "Why did they have all that furniture?" wondered Riley, knowing that that question would not pull her away from that barbaric task. They set a goal for themselves: take everything downstairs. Helen and Greg would take care of the furniture, while Riley would take care of the boxes. All three lost track of time; they had started at 1 p.m. and stopped at 9 p.m. Her parents sprawled on the couch, surrounded by the twelve pieces of furniture they brought down several hours earlier. Riley took advantage of this and poked around the partially empty room, opened certain boxes and found old clothes and thirty-year-old china sets. What a bore! She passed between two tall pieces of furniture, perhaps two closets, and came across a long chest of drawers. Six rectangular-shaped drawers divided into two columns, it looked familiar. Then she realized what it was: it was the piece of furniture her parents used as a base for her changing table when she was an infant. I want this one in my room! I'm rehiring you indefinitely! The next morning, Riley proposed to her parents, who were zombies trying to return to the world of the living, but with little result. "Would you like to what?" her mother asked, yawning. "I found the old cabinet you used to use as a changing table," said the excited little girl. "It's big enough for me to lay on it, so changing me would no longer be an endless search." "Why ... are we taking so long to change you?" asked Greg, then took a sip of water. Riley gave him an obvious look. "Dad, do I need to remind you that for you lost my diapers by leaving me lying on the bed with everything in view?" She blushed on that last part. Greg yawned, but preferred not to answer. "Having a dedicated diaper corner would be nice," Helen intervened. "I already have the arrangement in mind for everything." Greg blinked three times. "So, should we move that to your room?" His tone was puzzled. "Yes," the little girl answered decisively, then put her hands together. "Please?" Greg sighed conflictedly, then smiled at his daughter. Through it all, Helen could not help but laugh. * In the early afternoon, a truck parked in front of their house. They were the workers from the secondhand furniture store to which Greg sold three cabinets and six drawers. Ten minutes of phone calls, emails with pictures of each piece of furniture attached, and a thousand dollars earned. He was the happiest person since his daughter. They loaded the furniture, nodded, to say goodbye and thank him for choosing their store, to Greg and left without giving a glance to either Helen or Riley who had been present every moment of their brief stay. "Rude," Riley said promptly, until she was sure they had left their field of vision. And Helen agreed with her with a complicit smile. Then she added, "You'll meet some rude ones too, always behave yourself and you won't end up like them." "Become rough, fat men?" the 11-year-old asked incredulously. "But I'm a girl!" Greg burst out laughing. "There are rough women, too, honey," Helen told her with amusement. They spent the better part of Sunday afternoon moving furniture and organizing Riley's room. The little girl had the opportunity to place the furniture as she wanted. Her parents enjoyed following the directions. The cabinet - changing table - they placed behind the door. The closet next door, the bed and the desk remained in place. With this thinking work completed, Greg went out to run an errand. Riley was happy; her room had become even more beautiful. The latest arrival (or return?) was looking good, two of the six drawers had already been filled. The first with diapers and pull-ups, the second with underwear, lotion and wipes. It was not yet complete, missing the mat that made it a proper changing table. At six o'clock in the afternoon, Greg returned with something that made Riley happy beyond measure: the mat! All three of them went to put it in its place, on which occasion Riley asked her parents to try it out. Her father took her on his shoulder and laid her down as if he was, for real, about to put a diaper on her. It fit perfectly, was comfortable, and she could almost take a nap in it. "It's perfect!" exclaimed Riley. Her father put her down and hugged him along with her mother. "Thanks, guys!"

Hi guys! Here are the first two chapters for Araceli's Descent Into Babyhood. You can find chapter three and four already added to my website: The Padded Playground. There are new stories like Finding Mommy, Bully - A Mother's Forced Regression, and more. Be sure to check them out. Araceli's Descent Into Babyhood Lena looked around the room. It was a nursery, but everything was bigger than normal. A play pen in the middle filled with blankets and toys that could fit multiple adults in it. A crib on one corner, big enough for two adult women, and that crib wasn’t empty. Inside, a woman with olive skin and dark brown messy hair slept peacefully. She was naked but for a diaper, which was clearly wet. Araceli was sucking her thumb, probably dreaming about her past life. A life she had spent in the streets of Lima, begging for money to support herself and her children. Now, here she was, in America. In Lena’s home, sleeping like a baby, for a lack of a better word. Lena turned to see the camera pointed at the crib, recording Araceli’s every movement. And she couldn’t help but thinking about how she had made everything possible. How she turned the beggar mother into an ABDL superstar around the world. If the baby wasn’t sleeping she would’ve laughed diabolically. It was, after all, something only a villain would’ve done. Turn a mother from the streets into her perfect baby angel, submissive to her every command. Lena could’t deny it, she was proud of it. Chapter 1 Lena’s New Idea Lena looked at her phone and the endless notifications from her last post. It was a simple photo shoot of her wetting her diaper and then getting changed by a random fan she chose. It had gotten a lot of interactions; everyone wanted to have been that fan, and that kept her followers wanting more. But, if she was honest with herself, it wasn't the same anymore. She sighed, looking down the car window. The city was unlike anything she had seen before. A beautiful and endless green pier at the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean and she wasn't even in the nice part of the city yet. Perhaps, in the future, she thought, she could leave it behind. The idea of having to wear diapers and wetting or messing them up to make money for the rest of her life didn't seem as enticing as when she started selling content. She was running out of ideas to keep her followers satisfied. True, it gave her enough money to live a comfortable life. Not something the average ABDL content creator could say, but then again, not everyone had her hourglass figure and piercing blue eyes combined with long blonde hair, making her look like a baby Viking goddess when she was on character. At almost twenty-five, Lena couldn't have asked for better genetics. Her thoughts came back to the present when the car stopped, and she went down. The warmth of Lima radiated against her porcelain skin as she strolled past the elegant facade of the five-star hotel. In the heart of Lima's touristic district, restaurants and malls and beautiful parks were everywhere. And yet, on the streets, beggars. The taxi driver had told her they were Venezuelans, escaping from the horrors of socialism in their own country. Though, he pointed out, it wasn't that much better in Peru. Lena didn't know what to say, so she just nodded and smiled. Politics weren’t her thing. If anything, she just wanted to pay as little taxes as possible and not be bothered by anyone. But, confronted with it now, she felt sad for them. Something she could’ve just shake off once she was inside the hotel and that would’ve been it. And then it happened. She saw her first. Amidst the crowd, a woman in her late thirties with a beautiful tan, olive skin, and the deepest black eyes. She was tall for a Latina but with the natural curves of her people. Big breasts and a soft face, almost too soft for someone living in the streets. At that moment, Lena got an idea that would change her life and the life of that beautiful older woman who was asking for money from any and every tourist. Could it actually be possible that the beggar was the answer to her question? "Welcome to the Lima J.W. Marriott," said the guard, bringing her back into reality and helping Lena with her luggage. Lena didn’t answer. She was deep in thought. She didn’t want to be rude. No. But there was an idea forming in her mind. She felt the diaper around her crotch getting warmer. And the feeling of her urine against her skin confirmed what she wanted. She wanted out, and this was her opportunity. "Miss?" the guard asked again. "Could you get them inside," asked Lena, "I'll be back in a second. Thanks.” She rushed off, almost running, though the thick diaper wouldn’t allow too much movement. She rushed towards the woman she had seen, and stopped only when she was close enough to see her better. Her eyes had not lie. If she were clean and better fed, the mature woman could’ve been a former model. One of those Venezuelan ones that used to win every Miss Universe competition. "Excuse me," Lena began tentatively, not wanting to offend or scare the struggling mature woman, “Excuse me.” "Disculpe?" asked the woman, “Tiene dinero?” Lena smiled, giving her a ten-dollar bill, "English?" The woman nodded, "Little." "What's your name?” "Araceli." Looking at her closely, Lena could spot the dirt and stains in Araceli's clothing. She had probably haven't showered in a while. Her hair was messy and chaotic. She had lines around her eyes and dry lips. And yet, there was potential there that remained undiscovered. Exotic and sexy and, because of the woman’s demeanor, cuteness. With the right makeover and a proper cleanup - yeah, that would work. It would be perfect, and Lena’s own excitement made her already wet diaper soaked with her own juices. She could imagine herself diapering the woman, treating her like a baby for all her followers to see. She would be the mommy, not the baby anymore. Of course, she wouldn’t give up diapers. They were more for comfort and convenience than anything else. But yes, Araceli was the ideal candidate for her little experiment. She smiled, devilishly and charmingly, "Would you like more money?" Araceli nodded vigorously, "Yes, please.” "What would you do for it?" "How much?" "A thousand. Cash, I guess you don't really have a bank account, do you?” Araceli shook her head, "What do I do?" "Do you know what a diaper is?” Araceli nodded, though her eyes were perplexed at the question, "Babies, changes.” "Yeah," said Lena, "I'll give you a thousand dollars if you let me put one on you and then let me take photos and record it. It will be classy. Just one night. In my hotel room. No one else will be there. Just you and me.” Araceli looked lost for a second before she answered, "Porn?" Lena nodded, "A type of. But nothing too sexual unless you want to. Look, it's a lot of money, not just for someone living on the streets, but in general. Think about it. If you choose to do it, come to my hotel room. I'm in the penthouse. Ask for Miss Stone." Without letting the mature woman answer, she turned around, smiling, and walked back to her hotel. She stopped by the front door, right beside the security guard who had greeted her a few minutes before. He still had her luggage and a welcoming smile. "If the woman I was talking with comes asking for me. Show her to my room," she said, hanging him a fifty-dollar bill, "There's more if you're discreet about it." The guard’s smile grew bigger, “Yes, ma’am. Welcome to Lima City." Lena entered the hotel, "I'm going to like it here." Chapter 2 Mother & Daughter Araceli looked at her daughter. She was eagerly eating the street burger she had bought for them. Ten dollars wasn't a big thing for them gringos, but for her, it was life-changing. Her daughter had not known the taste of nice food in a while, and knowing she could change that for good made Araceli consider the proposal of the crazy white lady who gave her the money. Porn? Porn? But with diapers. It just didn't sound good. She said not really porn. Nothing too sexual. Was there not going to be coitus? Was it just the diaper? Those crazy people from first-world countries were really into some weird stuff, weren't they? "Are you okay, mom?" asked Maria. She looked like a clone of her mother but in the body of a nineteen-year-old. Even malnutrition hadn't taken away her beauty, and it was her beauty they were counting on when they escaped Venezuela. But when they arrived, they realized no matter how pretty they were, there were hundreds upon hundreds of them. Most Peruvians hated them, too. There were no opportunities. Chileans hated them. Argentinians hated them. Brazilians hated them. They were banned from El Salvador. It seemed they could only go to America, but getting there was the problem. Easy to go in, difficult to get there. "Mom?" asked Maria again. Araceli looked at her daughter and smiled, "Eat, honey.” Maria did as told. Mothers, especially those from Latin countries, would do anything for their kids. And if she wanted to call herself a real mother, she needed to step up. She couldn't let her daughter starve. And they needed a home. Somewhere to live. A thousand dollars was enough to rent an apartment for three months or more if they were smart about it. Maybe buy some cheap clothes. Eat properly for a while. But the shame of what she needed to do prevented her from committing to that decision. "Mom. That's it. Tell me what's going on," said Maria once more. Her daughter had always been more bossy and dominant than herself. It had gotten her into trouble, especially in a culture that didn't allow that on women. But Maria was also smart, maybe not street smart, but smart nonetheless. Emotionally smart would be the right word. "It's nothing, honey," she said, "I just got...a proposal." "A proposal?” Araceli nodded, "Yeah, a money-type proposal." "A job?” Araceli hesitated to share more with her daughter, but they were close. Best friends. There were no secrets between them, and that alone was the only reason they had survived so far. Together, they were stronger. They complemented each other. And her hesitation faded as she explained what had happened earlier that day. "Diapers? Porn? You aren't thinking about doing this. Are you?" asked Maria. Araceli nodded, "It's a lot of money. We could find a place to live." She looked around. They were sitting in a dark park, hoping no one would force them out until the morning. "But it's no different than having sex for money! No. You won't do it. I forbid it.” "I'm the mother.” "Yes, but I'm the one that takes care of us.” "Enough," said Araceli, putting her foot down for the very first time in her life, "I'm the adult here. You're only nineteen. I decide what we do, and if I decide I'm taking the offer, I will. No discussion." There was a moment of awkward silence between the two. Araceli tried to look away, giving her daughter some sense of space. Though, they dared not to get too far away from each other at night. "If I had a room, I'd rush there and stomp the door," said Maria, and Araceli chuckled, and she did, too, "When do you have to do it?" …………………………………………… In her hotel, Lena had everything ready. She had bought diapers she was sure would fit Araceli. They had different bodies and hers wouldn’t actually cut it for what she intended. She also got more baby powder and baby wipes for diaper changes. Her camera was already set up. And she had the cash ready. She even ordered food and alcohol, perhaps, it would help break the ice. And now she waited. It would be her first time as someone's caregiver. The idea itself was exhilarating, enough to create a sense of warmness between her crotch. Knowing Araceli was vanilla and, like most people in the region, probably conservative, made the entire idea even more exciting. Controlling someone twice her age was something she had never expected, but it was a welcomed change. While she waited, she thought, why not? Her finger found their way to her wet pussy, caressing it slowly and carefully at first, thinking about the mature woman who she would soon put back in diapers. Lena was never meant to be the baby. She had always craved to be in charge. And now she was close to it and as the thought came to her mind, she reached the best climax she had had in ages. Her heart was beating fast and she was sweating slightly, and she was naked on top of the bed. It was going to be an interesting experience, that was for sure. She smiled and kept waiting. …………………………………………… Araceli didn't know what to say or how to act. Everyone in the hotel looked at her as if she had some sort of disease. She kept telling herself it was for her daughter, but she had to admit, that it was mostly for her. She wanted a better life. A different life. Her daughter didn’t mind. She didn’t lost everything when communism destroyed her country. She was born in poverty already, and it’s easier to live knowing you haven’t lost anything than it is to accept what you had is gone. She sighed as she found her way around the hotel hallways and stairs. She dared not take the elevator. Her smell alone would make it unpleasant for everyone, so she took the long route to the penthouse floor where the security guard told her Lena would be waiting. The outside of the hotel was luxurious and elegant, but inside, it was like something out of her imagination. If this was how people lived in countries with decent economies, was it better somewhere else? America, perhaps, was as good as her acquaintances had told her. She walked down the aisles and through, looking for the room where she would earn money enough to change her daughter’s life for good. If only it didn’t mean dishonoring herself. If only she didn’t have to submit to others’ demands to survive. She cursed her luck as the thought of being diapered again by someone much younger than her rushed through her brain. Would it be that bad? She had no time to answer herself as she reached Lena’s room. Hesitant, she knocked, and within a few seconds, the door opened. She took a deep breath and stepped in. The room was dimly lit, but she could make out the figure of a woman, younger than herself, sitting on a couch. She was sipping on a glass of wine, and her eyes seemed to sparkle in the low light. The fragrance of fresh flowers filled the air, and soft, sensuous music played in the background. It was a surreal environment, so far removed from her reality that it left her feeling like she had walked into a dream. "Hola, Araceli," Lena greeted her warmly, setting her glass down on the table, "That's about as much Spanish you'll hear from me, though." There was a long pause as Araceli closed the door behind her. “Are you ready for this?” Asked Lena. Araceli nodded, hesitant about her answer, but knowing there was no other way for her.

Well, this is a different sort of story. I had the idea of combining a babyfur story...with the Golden Age of Piracy. Weird idea, but I've researched a bit, figured out how things worked, and it just...took hold. It's a lot less mature than most of my stories, actually (surprising for me), buuut I maaay include some things that are a lot more AB and regression themed than I normally do (which is normally a lot). Also, there will be a bit earthier stuff, like a brothel and tavern wenches (as was in the times. Don't worry, no sexual themes aside from...motherhood themes.), so consider that the warning. I'm also admittedly not sure where the story's middle and climax are, but I have an idea about the end;I just don't know where it'll go before then. Okay, here's the first chapter: Chapter One: Don't Go Chasing Waterfalls The ocean in 1595 was a treacherous place, especially when one didn’t know what they were doing, and even more so when it was an area rife with danger already; the broken ships, names long since lost to the pounding waves, howling winds, and sea spray proved that without a shadow of a doubt. Fortunately for Florence Goodluck, the feared - at least, she hoped she was - black-furred fox captain of the seven seas, she and her small crew knew exactly what they were doing...or so they hoped. She wore few fripperies; while she and her crew were regarded as pirates, welcomed at Tortuga by fellow pirates, they weren’t a very wealthy or successful crew, having gotten few prizes over the time they were active. She and her crew wore simple, short, homespun dresses, ragged and torn from years on the sea. “Tack to port!” she called out in a high soprano, as she took the lookout point, seeing her crew of big cats maneuver the Catastrophe (her idea to let the crew, having known her lifelong friends since they all lived on the docks of Dover, England as orphans, know how much she appreciated them, especially since they unanimously voted her captain.) with Emma Everard, the stoic snow leopardess helmscat at her customary spot at the wheel. Not that the fox minded the lookout and rigging jobs; she never ordered her crew to do anything that she wouldn’t do, and she knew that Emma was better at the wheel than she could ever be. “Move port, bring the riggings up!” Grace Wythinghall, the powerful pantheress roared out, as was her right as quartermistress, helping the crew move away from the bow of a half-sunken ship, the stench of rotting wood in the air as a cold, heavy mist began to roll in. Florence sniffed the air, with most everything, even the familiar sea spray scents, fading into the furling mists. She realized that it could be a quest that ended all of their lives. No pirate had ever gotten this treasure, mostly because of silly and stupid superstitions that the older folk believed in. But she truly believed that she and her crew would be the first, and it would propel them to fame, glory…and mostly peace. Maybe because we’re the most desperate, that we have absolutely nothing to lose, she thought to herself. They were all veterans of the seas for a decade, and yet none of them were over the age of twenty-three, having lived hard lives as pirates, spending almost all of that decade in the bosom of their small frigate, rocked to sleep by the waves, avoiding privateers (those damned hypocrites, no better than they were…only with a letter of marque by the kings and queens of countries allowing them to prey on those weaker than them), fellow pirates, and legitimate navy ships that could’ve sunk them and sent them straight to Davy Jones. All Florence wanted was to retire. She was tired of the sea, tired of the dangers, tired of starving, and she wanted to put down roots somewhere on an island where the most she’d see of the ocean was occasional fishing, with more money than she knew how to spend. “Florence, I can’t see anything in this mist!” Agnes Coulthurst cried out, the cougaress’s tail lashing in annoyance, bringing her back to the moment. “Hold steady!” the black fox called. “Are you absolutely sure, Flory?” Denise Parkham called out; the lynx boatswain's voice tinged with terror. This was not a natural mist; the conditions for mist weren’t there; hell, it was far too cold for the normal spring weather of the Caribbean, and frost began to creep on the sails. “Do NOT call me ‘Flory’!” Florence snapped. “Hold steady unless I say!” A cheetah was scratching her claws on the ship deck, whimpering, “We’re going to crash into one of those ships-” “AVIS, WE ARE NOT GOING TO CRASH! TRUST ME!” the black fox shouted. “That goes for everyone! We are going to make it through! Have I ever led you wrong before?! Hold - damn - steady!” “You heard the captain!” Grace roared; the fox had to admit that the vocal cords of the quartermistress was a much louder sound that almost seemed to cut through the mist. “Hold steady until she says!” All eleven animals held their breaths, as if the very act of breathing would cause the water to hear and consume them. The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a sword. Then Millicent Huchenson and Winifred Daundelyon, a serval and caracal as close as twin sisters (even though they weren’t actual sisters like the Rowes) heard a faint roar coming in front of them, their especially keen ears pounding with blood, and both of them screamed in terror, holding each other. Florence heard the faint roar as well, heard the sailmaker and cooper scream, and immediately bellowed, “DROP ANCHORS AND FURL SAILS RIGHT NOW!” Her crew reacted quickly, knowing that their lives depended on it. Whether Lady Luck existed or not, they knew one thing: they were lucky, for the roar was coming from a waterfall that plummeted down into nothingness - the anchors had managed to cling to rocks just in time to save them from going over. “This has to be the goddamned end of the world…” Isabel Hornboldt moaned pitifully, the jaguaress who served as the navigator unsheathing and sheathing her claws. “There’s nothing on my maps that says anything about a goddamned waterfall!” “That means we’re close to The Dying Night!” Florence shouted, her eyes alight with recognition. “Don’t you girls remember what the legend said?” “Other than some voodoo witch that cursed the pirates who killed her husband?” Sybil Rowe asked curiously, the tigress carpenter looking straight at her lioness sister, Cecily's eyes. “And they were never heard from again? And that everyone who tried to find this treasure died?” the gunner finished in a dour tone. “Cecily, Sybil, curses aren’t real!” the fox captain snorted to herself. Curses? Ridiculous. And they were a much better crew than those that had died; hadn’t they proved it by surviving until now? “Anyway, it’s at the bottom of the waterfall.” “Well, unless you plan on jumping off, I’d love to hear ideas, Flory!” Agnes snapped. “Always grumbling, Agy, always grumbling about something!” Florence retorted, inwardly seething about the childish nickname uttered by the cook. “Don’t you know that there are tributaries that lead downward? Or did you forget about the legend entirely?” The cougaress’s face flushed in annoyance, but Avis Ballett was quick to say, “But we can’t see anything in the mist!” Florence sighed, quickly wrapping a rope around her paw and stepping off of her perch, down to her crew from the crow’s nest, using her weight to counterbalance and land safely on her paws. Her crew had seen her do it so many times that they were no longer afraid for her safety…but they didn’t dare try it themselves. They would follow her anywhere…except with that; some things were just a death wish. “That’s why the legend is called ‘The Dying Night,’” the fox explained, mostly to the cheetah musician, but to the rest of the crew as well. “We wait until dawn; that’s night’s death, that’s when the mist will clear up and reveal the tributaries. Then we go down to them, find the ship, get the loot, divide it, and get out as rich women.” “You’re placing an awfully big bet on a mere legend, Flory,” Denise mused, her paw drumming on the side rail. “Enough with that stupid nickname! We know it’s real, Denise, there’s enough evidence to prove it, especially since it's here in front of our eyes.” Florence’s green eyes were desperate. “You’re my crew; I’d go down with and for you any day, and you know that, but we can’t be pirates forever. This could be the one. This could be the treasure that we could retire with and live like queens.” “I’d settle for a family.” All heads turned to face Isabel, who looked sad. “We’re family, Izzy,” Grace gently coaxed. “No, I meant…we stole this ship from the privateers together, and we're as close as we can get without being blood…but I want something…tangible,” the jaguaress said with a sigh. “No insult meant to you girls, but we see each other every day, every time I wake up on this ship. I’ve heard every argument we could ever hear. I want a different voice.” “Get enough money, and you could buy a family,” Florence said with a smirk. “Florence, not everything’s about scoring that big loot.” To the black fox’s shock, it was Emma that said those words, the normally quiet snow leopardess having a faraway look in her eyes. “I’d love a family myself. We all grew up as orphans; I wanted to know my mom for years. She died, you know. Died in childbirth. Dear ‘Dad’ left me on the docks. We all have similar stories, Florence, even you. Haven't you ever wanted someone to hold you, to love you, no matter what?” Florence sighed angrily. “Look, you want a mommy to feed you, pay a damn wetnurse. Those times are done, and you can’t ever go back. What’s done is done. We’re here right now, so let’s focus on our goal right now." She took a deep breath and rubbed the fur on her temple - a tic that she had when she was trying to calm herself down. "Anyway, we’re all tired, so get some sleep until dawn. Millicent, Winifred, take the first watch.” The fox’s crew looked at her…and let out collective sighs, knowing they weren’t going to change her mind; she could be quite stubborn. It was the trait that brought them this far, and the trait they loved and hated. But she was right, in a way: she had never steered them wrong, had always kept them safe. “Yes, Cap’n,” they chorused. They gathered their ragged blankets, shivering as, one by one, they fell asleep in the cold mist, their dreams right in front of them…one way or another. - Okay, quick explanation about the specific jobs of this crew on their frigate (a smaller ship used in the Golden Age of Piracy): Captain - Democratically elected on pirate ships, believe it or not, although they could just as easily have command stripped of them. In most cases, the captain was the brains, the one who got the ship through fair or foul means. The most successful captains could install rules on the ship. Quartermaster (quartermistress, in this case) - Also democratically elected, the quartermasters were the seconds-in-command of the ship, unlike various the various legitimate vessels (even though the pirates had first and second mates). They were the crew's answer to the pirate captain, sharing their concerns, and being an intermediatory for the captain to give orders to the crew. If the captain had taken another vessel and wanted to start a fleet, the quartermaster would be the captain of that ship. Navigator - Even though the captain and quartermaster often had knowledge of navigation, a pirate ship might have a dedicated navigator. With a good navigator, the captain would know where merchant ships struck, could navigate islands and shallows, that sort of stuff. Boatswain (bosun) - The supervisor of the various seamanship stuff around the ship, monitored the stores, and ensured sails, anchors, and rigging were in good condition. On larger ships, they'd have people under them. Carpenter - The carpenter was the one who was responsible for fixing leaks around the ship, making various repairs, and refitting captured vessels for the purposes of the pirates. They were also responsible for a lot of the, ah...immediate surgeries (i.e., amputations) in the absence of a surgeon. Cooper - The cooper was responsible for assembling barrels, used to keep wet stores, dry stores, gunpowder, water, rum, etc. from spoiling, making them airtight, fixing buckets, etc. Normally on larger ships, but I figured I could make a slight exception. Sailmaker - Sailmakers were basically the chief engineer on a ship, used to stitch and make sails, which, without them, ships went nowhere. In the absence of a surgeon, sailmakers were also responsible for stitching wounds shut. Gunner - The gunner was responsible for the cannons, how much gunpowder was necessary for to hit the target, who shouted the order to fire. Gunner teams (four to six men) were required to be accurate and speedy, and they were outfitted with a lot of guns. Cook - Yes, even pirate ships had cooks. Normally, they were ones with amputations (not here), but while they stole food stores from the ships they captured, and ate from taverns, yes, cooks were needed to prepare food and rum. Musician - Yes, pirates had musicians like fiddlers and trumpeters. Like in others, they created rhythms for shanties, to aid in manual task, and to entertain, but they also contributed to a cacophony of noise during attacks.

This was a story I wrote back in 2022 as a gift to someone, I decided to re upload it here. I hope someone here enjoys it! ----------------------------------------------- Girl's Day Out The two figures of Rose Lalonde and Jane Crocker sat silently in their respective stroller seats. They didn’t say anything because of course they couldn’t. They both had their pacifier gags in their mouths. Although their legs and arms were already strapped to the sides of the large baby stroller, The looming figure of the Condesce leaned over them to strap seat-belts over their bodies. “Now, isn’t that betta?” She said. “Not gunna be getting no trouble from you two anymoray!”. She explained. The woman couldn’t do anything but squirm, glaring up at their captor, resenting every moment of this while the troll on the other hand was relishing every moment. Rose and Jane wore matching outfits, bows in their short cut hair, purple and blue onesies along with fuzzy gloves an booties that made their hands and feet practically useless. Around their necks were bibs that caught whatever drool that might have come from their mouths. The most damning feature about the pair was the thick crinkly padding around each of their waists. They both wore large thick diapers that fit tightly around their waists, spreading their legs and making it impossible for them to close their legs. Jane gave an undignified moan through her pacifier gag as the troll placed the seat-belt across her waist. “Now don’t be whining or I’ll make ya something to whine about!”. The Condesce said as she held up a small remote, flicking it on. Each of them had a vibrator bullet pressed up to each side of their crotches, not directly on their private parts but just close enough for them to feel every sensation from the toys and have them driving up the wall. Jane and Rose both gave out respective groans upon feeling the vibrators start up. “That should carp you two quiet for a while!”. The Condesce said with a cackle, watching the two girl’s face’s flush red from the sensation. The walked away and returned to with large bottles of milk. “Now, let’s get ya both proper filled up!”. She said. When she said “Proper filled up”. She really meant it as well. Starting with Jane who she seemed to have more of an affinity for- she took turns feeding the human’s bottles of milk, removing their pacifier gags and holding the nipple in their mouths until every last drop of the liquid was down their throats. Rose felt that her stomach was full, but was forced to drink the entire bottle, giving a few little series of coughs when she was done, and spitting milk up onto her bib as she did so. “Please no more m-MHMMHPM!”. She would say before the pacifier gag was unceremoniously placed back into her mouth. The Condesce gave a tutting sound as she waved her finger. “That’s not how good little babies speak to their mothers!”. She said, flipping the switch of the vibrator on once more. Jane tried to squeeze her legs together upon feeling the motion of the toys inside her diaper. It was safe to say that if one of them even thought of acting up or saying anything out of line, then the other girl would feel the repercussions of their actions together. “Now, what say I take you boat on a nice stroll through town huh?”. She asked the pair, not waiting for a response. The two humans couldn’t do anything as they were strolled down a busy street, blushing every time a troll would pass them. Some would make embarrassing and downright degrading comments, sometimes right to their face. But no matter how much they hated it, they knew that any complaining from either of them would face punishment. “You betta be getting use to this little ones, because we are going to be doing this for a long time!”. The Condesce said to them, stopping the stroller in front of what looked like an alien shop. “Stay right here, I’ll be right back!”. She gave a cackle as she entered the building, leaving Rose and Jane alone. Both of them gave a gasp almost instantly as they felt the vibrators start up again on the inside of their thighs. “Oh, almost forgot!”. The troll would be heard saying as her footsteps once again disappeared. Rose closed her eyes, her face and neck going bright red as she felt the pressure from the vibrators on her crotch. She didn’t know if the Condesce would be able to hear her or not, but she kept as quiet as she possibly could, only small gasps and whimpers escaping her mouth. Jane on the other hand was very noisy, squirming in her seat, and moaning and making lots of noises through her own pacifier gag. She squeezed her legs together, the crinkling of the diaper only contributing to the noise and feeling of the vibrator. Of course this spectacle wouldn’t go unnoticed by anyone walking past and soon a small crowd would form around the two humans in the crib. Rose tried to ignore the feeling of all those yellow alien eyes watching her, but it was very hard when people were constantly reaching to touch you. “Ah, I see you met my babies?”. The voice of the Condesce would be heard again as the pair would feel the handles of the stroller being taken once again. The small crowd all cooing and started taking pictures of the pair. Rose and Jade would feel the prying eyes and hands on their bodies, rubbing their stomach and hair as well as their diapers. This only caused further embarrassment to them both, Rose jerking her head away from the hands on her body. “Now, behave your two!”. The Condesce told them, turning up the vibrators up another notch. Jane let out a muffled staggered moan, her body stiffing up as she would be the first to orgasm in her diaper. Rose’s eyes widen as she squirmed in her seat, leaning her body away from Jane. The girl’s head flipped up and her face went bright red as her chest heaved up a down. Rose squeezed her legs together as well as she felt pleasure run through her own body. Soon joining Jane as she would orgasm in her own diaper, cute stifled noises and moans coming from her mouth. The Condesce smiled down at them. “I think ya’ both had a big enough day, let’s get you back home”. She said, pushing them down the street and back to were she came from. The pair were both exhausted from the result of the toys, the humiliation, and the length of the day. Soon Rose found her eyes fluttering as she begin to drift off to sleep. She woke up a while later, not sure how much later but she found herself still in the stroller. The sudden pang from her bladder was what jolted her fully awake. She squirmed in her seat, looking over at the face of the Condesce. “Aww, does someone need to go?”. She said, reaching down to press on Rose’s crotch. “Don’t worry. Let it allll out!”. She said, encouraging her. Of course once her bladder was pressed on so suddenly she couldn’t help herself and the entirety of what she had been drinking earlier emptied out into her diaper, a faint hissing sound the only thing that was heard for a solid minute as she felt the padding sag and swell up around her waist. All she could do was close her eyes, waiting for it to be over. Then to the Condesce's delight, Jane let out a muffled noise of her own, hearing the same noise coming from her as she would join Rose in wetting her diapers. Soon they would both be completely soaking the padding around their waists. Their diapers now stained a light shade of yellow. “Good job girls!” The Condesce commented, giving each of their diapers a squeeze, the padding making a respective sloshing sound. “But, you know I won’t change you until you both completely use them!”. She said, pushing the stroller across a busy street. Both of the humans looked at each other, sucking on their pacifier gags in worry and in reflex. Jane's stomach gave a gurgling noise which cause the troll to smile widely, unzipping the diaper bag she had with her just in case. It was going to be a long day and she knew it. ----------------------------------------------- Let me know if I should do a follow up to, or continue this story, any ideas or feedback would be appreciated!

It's been a long time since I tried any creative writing but thought I would give it a go, appreciate any comments / feedback on what I have written so far. The ABDL part doesn't start to show itself until chapter 2. The image doesn't quite capture the story but I can't draw so was just trying to get something from an AI that somewhat fitted the story. Chapter 1 - Welcome to ARC As Michael surveyed his surroundings, he began to think this might not be such a nightmare after all. It had all started a month ago, on a rainy Saturday morning. A hungover Michael had been lying in bed going through his emails, he came across something entirely out of the ordinary. An email from ARC Education notified Michael that he failed to turn up for an exam five years ago while studying for his undergraduate degree. It went on to state that because of this, he did not have enough credits for his degree, which was now considered null and void, and that he should contact ARC Immediately. Michael's heart hammered against his ribs as he stared at the email. His hands trembled as he scrolled back and forth, rereading the message that threatened to unravel his entire life. His mind raced with worst-case scenarios: losing his job, facing humiliation, and being labeled a fraud. Each possibility felt like a crushing weight on his chest, suffocating him with dread. He paced back and forth in his dimly lit bedroom, his thoughts spiraling into a chaotic whirlwind of fear and uncertainty. He needed to talk to someone to make sense of this nightmare before it consumed him entirely. Luckily, Amanda picked up the phone on the second attempt. "Michael?" Amanda's voice crackled through the phone, bearing the remnants of a night that seemed to have treated her as unkindly as it had him. Michael rushed to unload the contents of the email to her, his words tumbling over each other in haste. But before he could finish, Amanda's voice sliced through the air with a sharpness that snapped him to attention. "Michael," she said firmly, "it seems like you may have had too much to drink last night and are mistaking a dream for reality. Rest, and we can discuss it again in a few hours." "It's not a dream," Michael insisted before Amanda could disconnect the call. "I'm forwarding you the email right now." Amanda fell into a thoughtful silence as she perused the email. When she finally spoke again, her tone had softened, laced now with concern. "This seems too coherent to be spam." Michael held his breath, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him. "I don't recall you ever missing an exam," Amanda mused, her words slow and deliberate. "But considering we didn't share all the same classes and had a knack for skipping lectures, it's plausible." She paused and exhaled heavily. "Like I said before, it sounds like a bad dream, but maybe this does happen from time to time, and that's where people get the idea from," she said. Amanda paused again and then took a deep breath, her voice now confident. "But you would never have graduated if you had missed an exam, and the university would inform you directly if there were some kind of issue." All the anxiety seemed to lift from Michael as he heard these words: "So you're saying I can ignore this?" "Well," Amanda said, concern returning to her tone. “There wouldn't be any harm in getting in touch with the University to be sure; if there is anything to this, they would have had to be the ones to inform this other company." The dread returned to Michael, but Amanda's plan was sensible. He made her promise to keep this to herself before wishing her luck with her hangover and hanging up to call the University. Michael found the University's website, which he noted had changed dramatically since he had last seen it, and rang the examination office. Given that it was the weekend, he was surprised that someone picked up the phone, but after the third time being put on hold, his fears were confirmed. The examination office stated that while reviewing their records, they had come across a missing examination grade, and after an internal investigation, they had been forced to invalidate his grade. However, they decided to pass the situation on to ARC, a private research company that may be able to resolve the issue. Any lingering hangover Michael had was now well and truly gone. He only felt panic and wanted nothing more than to find a place to hide and forget this was happening. So it surprised Michael when he found he had typed in the number for ARC on his phone and hit the call button. ———— An hour later, Michaels mood couldn't have been more different from when he had first opened the email despite the fundamental situation remaining unchanged. The lady on the other end of the phone understood his situation. She had been quick to point out that it was the University's mistake as well, given that they had awarded him the degree. It was in everyone's interest to resolve the situation quickly and discreetly. She presented Michael with two options: the first was to spend a semester back at the University, retake the module, and then sit the exam he had missed with the other students. The second option was that ARC, a research organization, would use its resources to put him on a two-week sprint program to cover the material and exam at its expense in exchange for Michael's assistance with its research on memory. Option one wasn't an option at all for Michael. It would mean stepping away from his life and job, adding to his already immense student debt and the embarrassment of everyone knowing his situation. While the lady on the phone had recommended he take a few days to think about it, Michael accepted option two immediately. He knew he would have no issue getting the time off work; his boss had been encouraging everyone on the team to take a vacation while the office was quiet anyway. Most importantly, this meant that nobody would find out what had happened. Michael called Amanda back later in the day to tell her it had all been a scam and there was nothing to worry about, to which she was greatly relieved (clearly, she hadn't been able to convince herself that Michael hadn't been foolish enough to miss an exam). Over the next month, Michael had a few conversations with the lady from ARC. She explained that he would live at their state-of-the-art headquarters during the program, with all meals and amenities covered by the company. Then, after he had signed several confidentiality agreements, the nature of the research was also outlined to him, and it seemed genuinely exciting. So, as Michael stood in the ARC lobby, he was almost looking forward to the two weeks ahead. The lady from ARC (who it turned out was called Rachel) met him at reception, gave him his schedule for the next few days, and then took him on a tour of the facility. Monday Morning: Orientation Afternoon: ARC. Research Tuesday Morning: Lesson 1 Afternoon: ARC. Research Wednesday Morning: Lesson 2 Afternoon: Practise Assignment Chapter 2 - Memories? When Michael first heard Rachel's voice on the phone, he assumed she was much older than him due to her smooth, caring tone. She also exhibited a high level of intelligence that suggested she had been working in her research field for a lifetime. However, Michael couldn't have been more mistaken. Rachel was around the same age as him, dressed professionally in a black suit, with her long blond hair tied up in a ponytail. Rachel took Michael on a tour of the facility and he was amazed that not only did she know everyone by name, she was also just as knowledgeable about their research as her own. Her small ideas always brightened the mood of her colleagues, leaving them excited to try something new. The headquarters itself was unlike anything Michael had ever seen before. Rachel began by taking him to the room he would stay in, which was much bigger than his apartment. It featured a king-size bed, a huge TV, and a separate office for his studies. Following this, Rachel showed him around some of the workstations, where almost all the walls were made of glass panels, except for a few offices that senior management used for confidential meetings. This design made everything feel more light and open. All the computers looked brand new, with some workstations featuring VR headsets and access to supercomputers for complex processing. It was a lot to take in, but the best part was when Rachel led him into what she called the canteen. Canteen certainly wasn't the word Michael would use; the place was set out like a fancy restaurant, with a few of Rachel's colleagues already seated and eating anything from steak to Lobster. Michael was new to such high-quality food, so he ordered as much as he thought would be polite. Still, he couldn't help but think about returning later by himself to indulge in every dish the place had to offer. After treating himself to a second dessert, Michael was taken to the research area, his home, for the next few weeks. This room was simple and plain, unlike the glass-encased offices he had seen earlier. The walls were white, with little to no distractions, except for a large window that revealed a computer-filled room. The centre of the room had a solitary chair that reminded Michael of a dentists chair, with its frame entwined with cables that disappeared into the adjacent room through the window. Rachel led Michael towards the chair and began running through what they had already discussed on the phone. ARC had been working on state-of-the-art technology that allowed people to experience their memories as though they were happening to them again. She explained that it was similar to seeing a memory in a dream. They hoped that one day, anyone could relive any memory they wanted at the touch of a button, but there was much more research to do before they got to that stage. Because Michael couldn't remember missing an exam, he would also be a test case to see if they could locate missing memories in a person. This might mean that, eventually, the technology could help people with Amnesia. Rachel left the room after getting Michael seated and attaching some cables to his temples. She reappeared in the adjoining room dressed in a lab coat alongside another younger-looking colleague. "Michael, this is Luke. He is going to be helping me out for the next two weeks. It's his first day here, a bit like you I guess, so you will both be learning more about our research as we go along." Luke was younger than Michael and looked like he had just graduated from school. Having only spoken to Rachel about the research, Michael was a little uncomfortable with having someone else there. Then he then remembered the creme brûlée he had just eaten and realized a little discomfort was worth the price. "Well, we have a lot to cover, so let's get started," Rachel said. "Today, we'll mostly be calibrating the machine with you, Michael. If you could start by closing your eyes, we'll dim the lights and begin." Michael closed his eyes as the room darkened, and Rachel's voice returned to the room before he could think about what was to come. "To calibrate the machine, we need to give it a spectrum of your memories. We like to keep it simple, so first, let's try your most recent memory, and then we can try your oldest memory to see how they compare. "So, for your most recent memory, all I need you to do is picture yourself walking into the room with me and sitting in the chair." Michael was surprised at what Rachel had asked him to do. He knew nothing about how this would work but he had expected a lengthy induction process, potentially even hypnosis, to get him into a specific state of mind to experience his memories. He began to consider whether the research was anything more than a fantasy of Rachel's and not the miracle she had discussed. But he trusted Rachel and was there to do a job, so he decided to see what would happen if he thought of himself simply walking into the room. Immediately, there was a flash of blinding white light and a slight pinch coming from whatever had been attached to the side of his temples. When the light faded, Michael found himself being led back into the room by Rachel, just as he had done a few moments before. He was back viewing the world from his former self's perspective. He realized he couldn't control his limbs or even choose where to look. It was like he was a second version of himself watching the original version play out a scene. He could focus on certain parts of the memory, the way Rachel's hair moved as she led him towards the chair or the taste of dessert still lingering in his mouth. Part of him had expected to be able to freeze the memory in place if he focused hard enough, but events played out just as they had. As Michael looked to see Rachel and Luke enter the other room, the blinding white light returned. When it faded, Michael was back in the room. "Is that really how my hair looks from the back?" Rachel's said, sounding alarmed. "You can see that!" Michael exclaimed, turning to face Rachel and Luke, who were removing what looked like VR headsets and placing them on the table. 'Well, it's not quite as vivid for us as it is for you, but yeah, we can see what you see, and the computers even give us some readouts to indicate how you are feeling". "Can you look at all of my memories with that thing?" Michael asked, suddenly fearful of what they might be able to see. Rachel reassured him, "No, we can only see the memory you are focusing on at that time. And if you are worried about confidentiality, don't be. I signed the same confidentiality agreements as you did." Michael wasn't entirely reassured, but he started to think about everything this technology could do. He could live out the highlights of his life whenever he wanted, even revisit conversations with relatives who had passed away. On top of that, it wouldn't matter that he lived in a small apartment if he could relive the memory of himself lying on a beach in Thailand whenever he wanted. Rachel's voice once again brought Michael back from his thoughts. "Now Michael, that first one was simple, partly because it was so recent and partly because I was there so I recognized what was happening. If you remember, I said we need to calibrate the machine, so now we need to look at your first memory, which may be much more difficult. Can you describe your first real memory for me?" Michael started explaining a time when he was four and had fallen off a swing at the park. He had half expected to see the flash of white light and be there when Rachel began speaking. "If I am being honest, Michael, that sounds like what someone has told you happened rather than an actual memory of your own. Can you try to think of your first actual memory for me?" While he was annoyed at being told his memory wasn't his, he had to admit that he couldn't remember how it had felt to fall off the swing, and there had been a picture of him at the park at his parent's house growing up. He spent a few minutes racking his brain before saying, "Well, I am not sure it's the sort of thing you're looking for, but I have a small flash of a memory of being sat on the carpet at school while the teacher read a book to us, I was probably about seven." "That sounds perfect. Now, all you need to do is close your eyes and concentrate on what you remember, be it the feel of the carpet beneath you or the sound of your teacher's voice." Michael did as he was told, and after a few moments, there was a flash of light and a jolt at his temples. This time, when the light faded, Michael was genuinely amazed. He was inside a much smaller version of himself looking up at his teacher, Mrs Stone, a woman he hadn't thought about in nearly twenty years, yet there she was. She looked about the same age as Michael was now (yet the younger brain he was currently inhabiting thought of her as old), with her long, messy brown hair and oversized glasses. She was reading to the class, and Michael suddenly realized how safe he felt sitting there and the awe at the story. He wanted nothing more than to listen to what would happen to the brave mouse Mrs Stone was telling them about, but the adult Michael was also busy trying to take in the memory and his surroundings. He was sitting on an old grey carpet with his legs crossed, wearing his school uniform—a polo shirt and shorts—like all the other boys. The walls were decorated with brightly colored pieces of work that he and his classmates had worked so hard on. The room was filled with small tables and chairs that were made for someone of his size. At the back of the room, he could see his beloved backpack, which was a brilliant shade of blue with a giant dinosaur embossed on it. He felt a sense of pride wash over him at the sight of the backpack. The dinosaur on it was the biggest one he knew of, a T-Rex. Before he could take it all in, he was once again presented with the white flash and returned to the present, completely stunned by what he had seen. "Holy Shit," Michael exclaimed. "Did you see that? It was like I was seven years old again?" Rachel still seemed to have the headset on and offered no immediate response. Unlike before, the pinching at his temples continued even after leaving the memory. He started to reach up to see if he could adjust them when Rachel finally spoke. "Unfortunately, that didn't seem to work quite so well on our end," her voice not filled with the same excitement as before. "I think we saw a bit of the classroom, but everything was so blurry I couldn't make anything out." "As I said, the older memories are more difficult, but they are important to ensure we can calibrate the system. Please stay where you are and give us a few more minutes while we make some adjustments. Then, let's try it again." Michael wanted to mention the painful sensation, but Rachel had said to stay put, and it wasn't so bad anyway. After a few minutes, Rachel invited him to try again and warned him there might be a bit more pain this time as the system needed to work harder to ensure they could access the older memories. Michael once again closed his eyes, and after a few moments, a white light and a significant amount of pain in his temples, he was back in the classroom. While the memory appeared the same as it had before, as Michael looked toward his teacher, he could still feel a slight pain inside his tiny head. He listened to his teacher before taking in the room around him as he had done before. The boys were all dressed in polo shirts and shorts, and the girls in dresses with checked patterns. He looked down to admire his uniform. The school dress wasn't his favorite, but at least it was comfortable, much like his diaper which he felt rustling between his legs. Again, his eyes looked around the room at the various creations he and his classmates had made before coming to rest on his beloved backpack. It was easy to make out from the small pile at the back of the room. It was the perfect shade of pink with the image of the most beautiful princess wearing a white dress on the front. He began to look back towards the teacher as she continued her story as the white light flashed. This time the light seemed to linger for much longer, but he couldn't tell if it had been a few seconds or a few minutes. When his senses returned Michael jumped out of the seat, the device attached to him falling away as he did and turned towards Rachel, who was still taking off her headset. "Did you see that?" he said with a mixture of panic and embarrassment. Rachel saw Michaels's panic but looked confused. "Yes, we saw it," she said, "and it worked perfectly that time. Was there a problem on your side?" "The problem is that," Michael began, but he couldn't think what he would say. "Oh," Rachel said, shaking her head as though she finally understood something obvious. If you're embarrassed at what you wore to school that day, don't be. Believe me, I have seen so many early memories, and most boys want to see what it's like to wear a dress one day, and most girls want to dress up like a boy for a day. And if it's the other thing, then remember, kids of all ages have trouble with that stuff and relapse from time to time. Michael was partially reassured, but something still felt very strange. He knew the memory was his; it was his earliest real memory, but he had never understood why he had worn a dress to school that day or what accident had led to him needing to wear a diaper. Rachel didn't seem impacted by what she saw. "Well, I think that was a great success," she chirped. "I am sure you would like to do some more. I know I would love to keep going, but it's day one, and it's important we don't push ourselves too hard here. After all, you are not just here to help us with this; you must study tomorrow." Chapter 3 - ARC As Michael left the room, Luke turned to Rachel, who had begun rapidly typing up notes from their session. Luke had recently graduated with an MBA in psychology, specializing in the workings of human memory. Despite this and having been extensively briefed on the work being done at the facility, he was astonished by what he had just witnessed. With barely any work, they had successfully rewritten a person's memory, with the subject being none the wiser. "Impressive, isn't it," Rachel said, looking up from her note-taking. "We didn't create any brand new memories today, but two out of three isn't bad." The three Rachel referred to were the foundations of what she was creating. The machine could alter existing memories and make brand-new ones. This was the A and the C in ARC, addition and change, the ordering of the letters didn’t make logical sense, but someone in corporate clearly thought it sounded cool. Alongside changing Michaels memory, Rachel had run a process called reverberation. Reverberation allowed the mind to re-process any new or altered memories so the patient would accept them. If, for example, someone's memory was changed so that their first memory of their first car was green instead of black, their subsequent memories would be altered to accept this and so they always thought of the car as green. Having gone back to such an early memory showed how far the system had come. From Luke's reading, when the first tests had been done, it was almost impossible for the mind to accept anything from more than a few months prior, as the impact on other memories would cause too much of a disconnect for the participant. This was Rachel’s masterpiece and while the potential of the technology filled Luke with wonder, it also filled him with fear. Changing one persons memories for science was one thing, but if everyone on earth had a headset to view their memories and a corporation (or a government) had the capability to make changes to those memories, the implications were potentially disastrous. "How much will his memories change? Will he think he always wore a dress and a diaper to school?" Luke asked, his understanding of the process still in its infancy. "No, I kept the impact of the change minimal this time. To him, it will be an embarrassing moment that he never spoke about to anyone," Rachel said matter-of-factly. "We need to make a few more changes before we allow that memory to change him more substantially, but he won't forget how comfortable that special underwear felt," she said with a wry smile. The way Rachel described it was as if it was all so obvious. Luke had always thought of himself as intelligent, yet despite her being only a few years his senior and his studies, it was like he was a five year old trying to figure out how nuclear fission worked. "What do you need me to do?" he asked, trying to push away the feeling that there was nothing he could do that she couldn’t do a million times better. She looked at him "It's your first day, Luke. For the next few months, I don't need you to do anything more than observe and study what we are doing and maybe write a few reports. If you can study the logs of what we changed between the two memories and look through the reverberation file, that will be enough for now." Luke took his seat and opened the output files on his computer, but before he started reading, he asked, "Isn't it too much of a contradiction for him to have played out the same memory twice?" Rachel smiled. "He will remember both memories being the same, and tonight he will sleep, which will allow his mind to embed the altered memory further, and then we can start to have some fun."

21-year-old Jillian Jenners is down on her luck and accepts her younger twin sister Jennifer's invitation to stay with her at her cozy three-bedroom apartment in Philadelphia. Having just finished college and earned her degree, Jillian is still jobless and desperate to find a new start in her life. When Jillian begins to have her nighttime accidents, she turns to diapers as a solution to her embarrassing problem. A new opportunity presents itself when Jillian discovers the world of streaming and begins to build a sizable following. When a "wardrobe malfunction" happens during one of her streams, it further boosts her fame in the streaming community. Does Jillian keep wearing diapers to please her fans, or does she stop altogether? And what part does her twin sister Jennifer have in this whole story? Find out in this original tale of discovery, acceptance, and, of course, diapers. Foreward: The JJ Diaper Twins - How it all Started Hi! First of all, thank you very much for purchasing our book! I am Jillian Jenners (but you knew that already!). I am sure that you are all very much aware of me and my sister Jen. Whether you stumbled across our YouTube channel, our Tiktok, found us on Instagram, our Facebook page, X (twitter), JustForFans, or happened to catch one of our many exciting Twitch streams, you all know us as the JJ Diaper Twins. The two J’s consist of me, Jillian Jenners and of course my identical twin sister Jennifer Jenners. We are basically diapered celebrities and have even caught attention of the mainstream media. But how did it all start? That is just what this book is going to tell you. Consider this book as a biography of the lives of me and my twin sister getting our exciting start in the city of brotherly love: Philadelphia. Home of those delicious cheesesteaks, tastykakes, and tomato pies. My aim for this book is to very clearly tell all of you my story and how the JJ Diaper Twins even became a thing in the first place. Now, I am sure that some of you will want to come and bother us with requests to be our caregivers. Just to be up front, both I and Jen are already taken. We will take no requests, but feel free to support us on our Crowdfunder (the very reason why this book exists) or buy our branded pacifiers, bottles, bibs, blankets, stuffys, and clothing made for every one of you JJ Littles. We have footed sleepers, onesies, cute frilly dresses and skirts, shortalls, socks, changing mats, plastic pants, and even our very own line of diapers coming very soon! The JJ Cozy Crinklez (coming soon!) will be the comfiest, most absorbent diaper on the ABDL market. We assure you that these diapers are able to handle the most destructive floods that you can unleash on them. My sister and I agree that these diapers are the best ones that we have ever worn (and believe me, we have tried them all!). Keep supporting us through your donations as each donation helps to keep the cost of these diapers affordable and competitive with the other brands. We are working on getting proper supply channels so that you won’t be waiting too long for your next exciting order. The JJ Nighty Nites are just a little more absorbent and can handle the heaviest of your overnight super soakings. Jen and I have tried them a number of times before bed and we both agree that there has yet to be a leaky diaper. We are both excited to bring this new addition to our J&J Merchandise. We are also working on a documentary and our first show on CuriosityStream, so be on the lookout for that. Why CuriosityStream? This platform will grant us greater freedom to tell our story to all of you JJ Littles, without the restrictions that YouTube would place on us. Besides our current projects, I will get back to the most current project that we have just recently completed: this book. Both Jen and I would like to thank you for all your help and support for without it, we wouldn’t be the JJ Diaper Twins that you know and love today. Now, how will this book be structured? To get the full story, both Jen and I have devoted sections to this book to each tell our own story of how this all started. It’s a crazy story, but every bit of it is true. My story will be told first in “Jillian’s Story” so I would recommend starting with that one. Following that one will be “Jennifer’s Story” and everything there will be told from her point of view. The next section of this book will contain a thank you message from my twin sister, so don’t forget to read that before you get to the table of contents! This whole book has been a labor of love and we devote this book to every one of you who purchased it. So to all my JJ Littles out there, stay diapered! Live full, laugh long, play strong! Love You Always, Jillian Jenners July 21, 2028 Foreward: A Very Special Thankies to All of You! Hi hi everyone! I’m sure that you have all read my twin sister’s previous section. Knowing (and trusting) that you have, you know that we are both very excited that you have picked up this book to hear the full story of how Jill and I became the JJ Diaper Twins that you know and love today. So thankies very muchies for all your help and support! Prior to my sister Jill’s meteoric rise to fame, I was a CPA working at one of the leading CPA firms in Philadelphia: Conway, Phillips, & Associates. Prior to Jill’s fame, I provided her with a place to stay at my apartment. You all know the rest of the story, but the purpose of this book is to fill in all of those details in between my sister’s anonymity and our now shared fame that is celebrated by all the JJ Littles. I will be honest, everyone. I at first was hesitant to follow in my sister’s footsteps. Due to the stigma of this kind of lifestyle, I wasn’t at all comfortable to join my sister in all the facets of her lifestyle of infantilism. But after seeing all the benefits that she reaped and seeing the endless stress and anxiety that came from the continual demands of my CPA firm, the initial experience that I had with diapers proved cathartic to me. How did I go from my insistent reluctance to join my sister to combining with my sister to become one of the biggest names in the ABDL community? That is the purpose of this book. I will not reveal anymore, as you will have to read my side of the story (Jennifer’s Story) to get all of the replete details recounting the genesis of the protection that “changed” my life. I will be honest again. As a result of taking that padded red pill, it has cost me relationships that I will never be able to rekindle again. But as a result, I have a wonderful and supportive community of the most caring and loving people that I have ever met. At every meet and greet, you all have never ceased to amaze me with your kindness and support. My sister has already detailed you on our future projects, so that redundancy will be avoided here. Just know that we have both mutually discussed every project together and I (thanks to my stellar financial background) have reviewed everything financially before moving forward with each project. Each project benefits all of you, and is FOR every one of you lovely littles. As is this book that you are now holding. Consider this miniature tome a passion project conceived by both I and my twin sister (who I love with all my heart) Jill. We want to share with you the story on how we both became the JJ Diaper Twins. How we can now wear our diapers proudly everyday and help out our ever-growing family of JJ Littles. To satiate your curiosity, yes. Both Jill and I are fully diaper dependent now with no sign of ever returning to urinary or fecal continence. Also (as she already told you), we already both have wonderful caregivers that are sweet and wonderful to both of us. With that knowledge in your possession, please refrain from making any solicitations to be our caregivers. You are all a wonderful community and neither of us could’ve ever made it this far without all of you. To address the needs of both Little and Caregiver alike, my sister and I are in the process of creating a network to match you JJ Littles to a wonderful caregiver that will care for all of your needs. We want it to be a good system so we are taking our time on it. Please be patient. Whether you’re the little or the caregiver. Please be patient. Again I would like to say thankies very muchies to all of you! The movement that my sister started has allowed me to discover and fully embrace my inner little. A side of me that I prefer to keep mostly private, but for your sake show it every now and then. Remember. Littlespace is nothing to be ashamed of. It is therapy for every one of us to escape from the overwhelming difficulties and challenges of everyday life. Love every moment of that littlespace, but take care of those adult things that need to get done (ESPECIALLY if you don’t have a caregiver!) Well, my sister and I need to get this final draft to the publisher so all of you can see our curious and interesting tale from full anonymity to full blown ABDL stardom. It’s surprising, embarrassing, exciting, and rewarding. This experience has taught me so much, and I hope that it will teach all of you as well. I will close with the closing that both Jill and I use to close out our Twitch Streams that served as a foundation of Jill’s career: Live full, laugh long, play strong! Stay diapered, all you JJ Little besties! Love You All Sincerely, Jennifer Jenners July 21, 2028 I. Jillian's Story Chapter 1 : Down on my Luck Hi! I know that all of you already know who I am, but here it goes. In case any of you just skipped the introduction or for some reason have not heard of me yet, I will tell you again. My name is Jillian Marie Jenners. And before you’re left wondering, yes. The same Jillian Jenners that’s part of the Jenners Twins, or the nickname that’s more familiar in the community: the JJ Diaper Twins. I’m the one “J” and my twin sister Jennifer is the other “J”. We are identical twins, but we couldn’t be anymore different! Yes, we shared the same egg and womb at birth, but that is where the similarities end. And to address your comments on the tabloids and fake news, don’t believe any of the fake stories that the media conjures about us. None of it is true (as I’m sure that all of you already know). Their agenda is solely there to silence us and our cause. A cause that they for some reason see as a threat to their agenda. What? Do they not want us to share the spotlight with the other celebrities? It’s clear that the Hollywood Elites write all the rules of who stays and who goes in Hollywood and it’s very clear to them that a pair of ABDL twins are not allowed to have any of the spotlight as they want it all to themselves. What gives them the audacity to try to silence or cancel emerging icons representing a cause that they don’t even understand? They don’t want to, so they’ll make up fake stories to keep us from becoming stars. Well you know what, Hollywood? Your attempts are not working. Our movement is stronger than ever, and it’s about to tear down the walls of your Elitest club of yours. But anyway, I digress. Now for the most intense burning question that any of you ever gave me. And believe me. I hear this one every time when I stream with my twin to this day: “How did you and Jenny become the JJ Diaper Twins?” I get this question every single stream. Every. Single. Stream. Well, question no more my fellow JJ Little Besties! I am about to tell you everything. How my life was changed forever. How my sister’s video game console launched my career. How an embarrassing accident and mishap during a stream transformed my career. All of you are responsible for making my career the success that it is, and I thank every one of you. Now after I tell you everything, please help the mods in answering the question. All of you will have the answer now, and you’ll be able to share it with every person that doesn’t know about this story yet. So, you wanna know how Jillian Jenners (that’s ME!) went from a nobody to a big YouTuber and streaming celebrity? Hang on to your diapys (and make sure it’s a fresh one) and listen to my story. This is my humble beginning and I hope that it can inspire you from wherever you are to achieve your dreams and aim for the very best. How did I get into wearing diapers in the first place? To answer that question, we have to go all the way back to June of 2023. Yes. Five years to get to the very beginning. I was a fresh college graduate from Cleveland State University while my twin sister chose Penn State to get her Master’s Degree in Accounting and earn her CPA. Yes, we went to different schools. As I said earlier, we may be identical but we couldn’t be more different! It was only one month since I graduated. But since my sister was in an accelerated program (that, and she used all her free time to take extra classes), she graduated one year ahead of me and went on to earn her CPA license. She just celebrated her fourth month at Conway, Phillips, & Associates (one of the leading accounting firms in Philadelphia where she lives now). What was I doing? I was starving. My emergency fund was starting to dry up. My sister’s numerous scholarships (plus her firm paying for her Masters Degree while she interned there) got her a full ride through all of her college education. On the other hand, I was sacked with debt from the Bachelor’s of Science Degree in Communication that was doing nothing for me at the time. And my parents couldn’t help me with my schooling either since my sister and I came from a poor family. I mean, $145,000 in college debt? Everyone, all I did was cry that entire month after I graduated. Failed interview after failed interview. My grades were really good, but the market was competitive. Who would hire me as a news anchor when so many other candidates had better qualifications than me? Wasn’t the news station that I interned at in Cleveland good enough for all of you? Well laugh it up, because my sister and I are making more than all of you now! Five figures? Try seven! But seriously. The economic times were really tough in 2023 (and they still are now in 2028). After spending a solid month of dried-up job leads, failed interviews, and zero job offers, I drowned my sorrows with a pint of Mint Chocolate chip ice cream. It was my guilty pleasure, but the refreshing mint at least tried to sweeten my rotten month of failed prospects. I was crying in the kitchen halfway through my pity pint of minty goodness. “You still crying, Jill pill?” My roommate Natasha asked me. What else could I do? Everything that I tried led to a dead end. And now, I was about to run out of money… “Yes, I’m still crying!” I told her. “You would be too if you had over $100,000 in unpaid college debt and no job prospects…” Natasha placed her hand on my shoulder. I didn’t know why she did this, as it DEFINITELY didn’t make things any better. “Jill? I know that you’re going through a rough patch right now. I know that I can’t do much to help you, but do you have anyone else that can help?” I sighed as I repeated the question in my mind over and over. “Well, I know that my parents can’t help me,” I told her matter-of-factly. “I already told you that they’re poor. My sister on the other hand is in Philly, rolling in money from her CPA job…” “Just ask your sister!” Natasha told me. I ignored her and dug up another generous scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I shoved the heaping spoonful into my mouth in my futile attempt to numb the pain of my miserable existence. Why did I ever go to school to be a news anchor? Who would ever want to hear a loser like me? Besides, most of the candidates that got the job were men. So much for gender equality… The explosion of sweet mintiness filled my mouth and I quickly swallowed it. “My sister?” I said in a forlorn sigh. “She’s got her own life now! What would she want with me?” That’s when I heard a knock at the door. “Miss Jenners!” the voice boomed, sounding like a crotchety old lady. It was the landlady. My rent was due. Aw shoot! I thought I already paid it! I KNOW I did last month! “Your rent is due, miss!” the voice repeated. “$950! Do you have it?” I opened the door and sighed. “Mrs. Steinbeck, just one second…” I woke up my cell phone and opened my banking app. I checked the balance and my heart sank. $20.89. I only had $20.89 in my account! “Well, I do have $20.89…” I told the landlady, my sheepish voice beginning to choke. The landlady shook her head. “Cash dear. I need it all in cash. You have until tomorrow night to give me the money. Give me it or you will be evicted. I will seize all your property as collateral and will return it once the rent is paid in full. I WILL do this if you don’t have the rent tomorrow. Do I make myself clear, Miss Jenners?” “Crystal…” I choked. The landlady slowly but firmly closed the door. I then started crying again. Natasha looked at me and sighed. “Girl, I can give you $100, but I still need to pay for my half.” I half smiled when I heard her say “girl”. This was a Natashaism and her favorite word to use before beginning a sentence. I guess it’s more common with her being from the Dallas-Fort Worth Area of Texas. I have nothing against any of you Texans (your accent is AMAZING!). It’s just that my accent is very boring compared to yours. And Natasha’s accent was Texas Golden. I grabbed my pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream (which was now starting to turn into a melty mess) and began to shovel the next melty mouthful. Natasha opened her purse and pulled out five 20-dollar bills. She firmly placed the money in my hand and gestured me to place my spoon down. “Set your ice cream down and look at me.” Natasha said firmly. “Both eyes, Jill…” I fixed my gaze on Natasha and ran my fingers through my brown hair. Okay. I’m staring at her. What now? “And stop playing with your hair!” she ordered. “I need you to act like a proper lady.” Proper? Lady? What is this, finishing school? I let go of my hair and sighed, placing both hands to my side. “Okay. No nervous fidgets or stims. What?” Natasha smiled, happy that I have her undivided attention. “Take the money. You need it, girl…” There she goes with that “girl”, again! Even after a year of living with her, I’m still not quite used to it… “Now,” Natasha continued. “You told me that your sister is ‘rolling in money from her CPA job’…Why don’t you just ask her for help? She’s your sister and I’m sure that she would love to help you if she knew that you were in need. She seems like a pretty cool girl, too. I saw you two at graduation…” “Yeah,” I muttered. “She visited me a month ago to watch me graduate. At least my parents congratulated me over the phone…” Natasha nodded. “She seemed pretty nice, though. You’re both twins, right? You get along with her?” I slowly nodded. “Yeah. We both grew up together! Then we grew apart during college…” “But she visited you! Your sister actually cared enough to fly from Philadelphia all the way to Cleveland to watch you graduate. Girl, don’t you think she still cares?” I folded the $100 and stuffed it in my pocket of my grey jogging pants. I then shoved another now liquidy spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream in my mouth. “My sister only did that as a polite gesture,” I told her. “If she really cared, wouldn’t she check in on me now and then?” Before I could even finish saying the word “then”, my cell phone vibrated with the song “Shallow” playing. (This song was both I and my sister’s favorite song in high school) The caller ID read “Jen” with a picture of her happily smiling below it. At this moment, I totally lost it. I began crying again. Knowing that my sister has heard me cry many times, I answered the phone. “Hello?” “Are you crying again?” Jen asked me. “I just wanted to check in on you since it’s been a couple weeks now. Now what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I sighed. “I thought that you didn’t care! Didn’t you just visit me as a polite gesture?” “Aw Jill…” she said in a voice that seemed to explode with sympathy. “You know that my level of concern for you far exceeds what you may think it does. Now I visited you last month because I love my twin sister and that’s what loving sisters are supposed to do.” “Why didn’t mom and dad come to the graduation?” I asked her. “Jill, we already discussed this. They didn’t want to come to your graduation. They didn’t come to mine either. I offered to pay both times, but they refused my offer. I don’t know what they have against either of us. Despite that being the case, we have to love them back. After all, they were the ones that raised us!” I sighed. “I think it’s the money…We’ve always been poor…” “But look at us, Jill! We both have college degrees and I am now on my fourth month at an amazing accounting firm.” “So you’re just going to gloat about your new job? Jen, I thought you were going to check up on me!” Natasha gasped and left the room. I guess she wanted to give my sister and I some privacy. Thanks I guess? “Jill, I am not gloating. I am very happy about the success that I achieved. And I want you to be happy about your success too! You graduated Magna Cum Laude from Cleveland State University!” “Sis, you graduated Summa Cum Laude! A year ahead of me with a Masters that your cushy accounting firm paid for. That same firm that you interned at! And now you got a cushy job there! Meanwhile, I am having failed interview after failed interview. They are favoring men over me! I guess an anchorMAN is better than an anchorwoman, huh? I thought we were past all the sexist crap…Besides…” I lost it again and burst into tears. “Jill, you’re crying again! What is pulling you into despair?” “What is pulling me, Jen? I’ll tell you!” I raised my voice. “My landlord…um lady…knocked on the door and wanted the rent tonight. I thought that I paid it! But it looks like that I didn’t. $950! I checked my banking app. All that I had was $20.89. She didn’t want it. She wanted it all in cash. Now if I don’t give her the money tomorrow, she will evict me and seize all the belongings in my apartment. She will only return them once I pay the rent in full. So go back to your perfect life!” “Perfect? Jill, you have no idea of the tribulations that I experienced today. Work was very stressful…” “Work? It must be a lot of stress to make all that money…” I sarcastically retorted. “You’re absolutely right Jill! It is! Now, I had no idea of the financial turmoil that you’re going through. And before you reiterate your crackpot sexist theory back to me, I have the perfect rebuttal. On four out of the five local news channels that I perused, I saw women news anchors. Not men, Jill. Women! You need to come out here, Jill. The northeast is more progressive and liberal. They don’t see any glass ceiling for us. Plus, most of the CPA’s that I work with are women. There are a few men in our group, though.” “So, how do you propose I come out?” I whined. “Earth to Jen! I’m broke! I have $145,000 in college debt and owe the landlady $950. How do you expect me to come out there with a plane ticket to move to Philadelphia. And the other problem would be a place to stay. Now, where would I stay.” “Jill, you would stay with me! My apartment is a 3 bedroom. I’m not using the other two rooms for anything. They are still empty. Okay. Not quite. Just a few of my extra belongings…I will take you in. You need to get out of Cleveland!” I sighed as I looked at the Mint Chocolate chip ice cream. “Just two more problems, Jen. One: my rent. And two: a plane ticket to Philadelphia? Now my roommate had pity on me and gave me $100, but that’s not going to be enough for either expense.” “Jill, just let me help you! I will pay for your rent and your plane ticket. I will buy a round trip ticket for me and a one-way ticket for you. You’re going to get a job out here, Jilly Bean. I will be out tomorrow afternoon, with $950 to pay your landlady for another month. Sound good?” I was now crying my eyes out. I never knew that my sister could be so loving and kind! “Oh, thank you!” I joyfully weeped. “You don’t know how much this means to me…” “Oh, but I do Jill!” Jen told me. “I’m your twin sister, remember? We’re two halves of one whole. I could feel that something was wrong with you tonight before I called you. That’s a twin thing. It’s like having a best friend, only waaaaaay better…See you tomorrow! Love you!” “Love you, too.” I told her. The call ended and I wiped the rest of the remaining tears out of my eyes. I then guzzled the rest of the thick and syrupy mint chocolate chip ice cream liquid and wiped off the sticky residue with my hands. Natasha came out of her room and smiled. “I heard some of the conversation but not all of it. Now girl, look at me again…” Well, I’m in a better mood now. So okay…I looked at Natasha and stared at her. “Yes Natasha?” “I was right!” she told me. “Your twin sister really does care about you and love you! And she just proved it!” She then proceeded to pat me on the shoulder. “It looks like the good Lord is looking out for you…” I shrugged my shoulders. I guess he is…I dug into my jogging pants pocket and pulled out the $100. “Do you need this back? My sister is paying my rent tomorrow and taking me to Philadelphia to live with her.” “Keep it!” Natasha pleaded. “It’s the least that I can do in your situation. Now, are you just going to have ice cream for dinner? I can order us some food. You don’t have to pay me. I got this, girl…” I nodded. “Thanks Natasha.” The rest of the evening was okay. Natasha ordered a pizza with my favorite toppings. They happened to be her favorites, too. Either that, or she was just being nice. A supreme pizza cooked to perfection. We were both so hungry that we ate all but two slices. As I was finishing my last slice, Natasha gave me that stare again, so I stared back. “Jill,” she addressed me. “Or Jillian?” “Only my mom calls me that,” I sighed. “Jill is fine…” “Jill then…” Natasha continued. “It was very nice having you as a roommate. Granted we were busy and we didn’t see a lot of each other, but I wish you the best. I have an interview in Columbus next week and if I get the job, I’m moving down to Columbus. This apartment will be vacant again. You will have to sign a release and pay another fee to get out of your lease early. I believe that our lease doesn’t come up until August.” “I will just have my sister pay it,” I told her. “I don’t want to take advantage of her, but I’m broke right now…Oh. Good luck on that interview! I hope you get it!” Natasha smiled back at me. “Thanks Jill Pill!” “Ha…” I grinned. “I can remember a few friends in high school calling me that…” To those of you still following the story, not much more happened that evening. I shed my t-shirt and jogging pants and slept in my bra and panties. And I just…slept. Yeah. That’s it. if you think you’re going to get more information than that reader, sorry. This is my story, and I will spare some of the unnecessary details, like my snoring or anything else that you don’t need to know about. You’re probably wondering “Jillian, when are you going to get to the diapers?” Doncha worry, my little besties. I will get to how I started wearing them very soon. I just needed to get to my departure from Cleveland first. I can actually remember sleeping really well that night. I felt so happy that my sister really cared about me. But finding a job was something that I really needed to do. Now my sister TOLD me that female anchors were more common in Philadelphia. I closed my eyes and fell asleep, hoping that she was right…

Five-year-old Lila is jealous of her baby brother always getting all the attention. But Lila's life changes forever when she discovers a mysterious diaper that will grant her every wish. How much fun can Lila have with unlimited wishes at her disposal? Chapter 1: Lila's Diaper Wish Five-year-old Lila woke up to the sound of her younger brother wailing in the other room. If she were to guess, he probably needed another diaper change. “Camden!” her mother shouted from the hallway. “Don’t worry. Mommy’s coming!” Lila sighed when she heard her mother get up just to dote on little Camden. He does this every night. His diaper gets wet and she takes care of it just like that. Her mommy keeps telling her that she is the big sister now. Three months ago, this was not the case. “I used to be the baby…” she whispered. “Now my little brother has to ruin it. He gets everything! I wish that my mommy would pay more attention to me!” Lila pouted as she buried her face back in the covers of her My Little Pony bed. Minutes later, she could make out the sound of her mom from the hallway walking back into the room. She stopped at the bathroom, turned on the light, and then turned it off after a few seconds. In mere seconds, Lila was fast asleep. Lila woke up with a gasp. She clutched her hands over her pajamaed groin and lept out of bed. She swung the door open and rushed a short distance down the hallway and into the bathroom. She turned on the light and closed the door. She lifted the toilet lid up, pulled down her pink pajama bottoms and Elsa and Anna Frozen underwear and sat down. She could hear the refreshing tinkle as the mesmerizing sound filled the whole bathroom. The sound reverberated for about 20 seconds. She smiled. I made it! She gasped again, siting up in her bed. Her Frozen underwear and pajamas were soaked. She pulled back the bedsheets. A large and saturated wet patch covered the area of the entire mattress. Lila’s face reddened and her face filled with tears. She got out of bed and rushed across the hallway. She quietly open the door and whispered with tears in her eyes: “Mommy! I peed the bed!” The mother stirred, and caught glimpse of the small silhouette standing by the door that was open just a crack. She let out a quiet sigh. “Lila dear, you wet the bed again. This is the third time this week, honey.” Lila’s face, which was now beet red, flooded with tears. “But I didn’t mean to, mommy! I had the dream where I…” “You had that same dream again? The one where you get up and go to the bathroom?” Lila slowly nodded, as she wiped more tears out of her eyes. She was now letting out hiccup sobs. The mother gave Lila a soft pat on the neck. “Here. Let’s get you cleaned up and back to bed. We’ll get you a shower, some dry underwear, dry pajamas, and some dry bedding..” Lila’s tears vanished, her hiccup sobs becoming less frequent. They were now just hiccups. The mother led Lila into the bathroom and instructed her to take off all her wet clothes. “I’m going to change your bedding.” the mother told her. “I’ll be right back to give you a shower, okay sweetheart?” Lila nodded as she removed her soaked pajama top. The mother left the bathroom to take care of Lila’s soaked bedding. Lila took her soaked pajama bottoms and then sighed when she took off her soaked Frozen Elsa and Anna underwear. It was sad to see both Elsa and Anna all wet from her nocturnal accident. After removing her underwear and piling it with the other wet clothes, she looked down at her princess parts, which still had just a little pee dripping off of it. She then noticed the door open just a crack that went to the waste bin. There was a faint light coming from it. She opened the door to the trash bin and found an empty white sleeve draped over the edge of the waste bin. that she knew came from her brother’s diapers. Her mommy must’ve thrown it away when she was finished with it. Having seen her brother’s room, she knew that the white sleeve came from a large box of Huggies Little Snugglers. They were size 1’s, since her little brother was only 3 months old. But then she saw the light again. It was a bright flashing light that came from inside the white sleeve. She glanced inside and noticed that there was an object that was flashing at the bottom of the plastic sleeve, since the one side was open but was sealed on the other side. She felt down to the bottom and gasped. Mommy forgot to use this diaper on my little brother! She stuffed it back in the trash and closed the door to the waste bin underneath the sink. The mother came back and led Lila to the shower. She undressed herself and entered the shower with Lila. They both showered together and the mother made sure that Lila got all of her parts really good. After the shower, they both dried off and the mother gave Lila a fresh pair of Elsa and Anna Frozen underwear and a pair of yellow pajamas, since pink and yellow were Lila’s favorite colors. The mother led Lila back to her room and pointed to her bed, which now had some fresh bedding. A Disney Belle and Cinderella comforter sat on the top with matching pillows. She then hugged Lila and smiled. “Try not to have that dream again, dear.” She got Lila underneath the covers and tucked her in. “You’ll grow out of it soon. Mommy used to wet the bed when she was your age.” Lila gasped. “You WET the bed?” The mother nodded. “I was a little girl, just like you and I had that same kind of dream. I wet the bed until I was seven, then I stopped after that.” Lila whimpered. “So I’m going to wet the bed for two more years?” The mother shook her head. “We don’t know that, sweetheart. Every child grows out of this at a different age. Try to get some sleep now. Good night, Lila dear.” The mother and Lila both nuzzled their noses together and the mother kissed her on the cheek. She then pulled the covers up to Lila’s chin and turned to exit her room. She flipped off the light switch and closed the door. Lila waited a few minutes for her mother to go back to bed. When it was all quiet again, she gently got out of bed and tip-toed across the floor. She quietly turned the knob until the door was open just a crack. Just enough for her to squeeze out of her room. She continued tip-toeing down the hallway and back to the bathroom. When she opened the door, sure enough. She could see the light glimmering from the crack to the door that was underneath the sink. With the lights off in the bathroom, she could see the light even more. She opened the door and reached into the trash bin. She pulled out the white sleeve and looked inside. She reached down and pulled out the source of light. Sure enough, it was a Huggies Little Snugglers diaper. But something was unusual about this one. It was flashing brightly like a night light. Lila held the glowing diaper and closed the door to the sink. She quietly left the bathroom with the diaper and went back to her bedroom with it. Very quietly, she closed the door and laid the diaper in the middle of the floor in her room. She then sat on her bed and scratched her head, trying to think of what to do with that diaper. Should she use it for a night light? It was glowing pretty bright and Lila was secretly afraid of the dark. Too afraid to tell mommy. But as Lila looked at the diaper more and more, she wanted to hold it again. So, she got out of bed and picked up the glowing diaper again. It was a size 1, and the most unusual diaper that she has ever seen. She has seen her mother change Camden’s diaper before and none of them ever glowed like that. As she held the diaper, she could feel the power flowing through it. At this, her thoughts returned to where they were earlier in the night. When Camden first woke her up. “My little brother gets everything!” Lila pouted. “Why don’t I get everything? I used to, before my little brother was born. I wish I was the little sister, instead of my brother! Then I would get everything! Everything would be good again…” The glowing diaper flashed, and just like that, Lila gasped. She removed her pajamas and underwear and stretched out the diaper, following just as she remembered her mother doing it with Camden. She laid down over the diaper and stretched the front over her private area. She peeled back the two tapes in the back and stretched them both onto the landing zone. At this, she gasped. This magic diaper actually fits? Then it hit her. She is once again an infant. That’s when she realized that she couldn’t move her legs. She can move her arms when she was on her stomach. She then glanced at her bed and almost started to cry, when she still noticed the bright glow coming from her diaper. Lila sighed. “Oh, I wish I could be laying in my bed!” And just like that, her entire body flashed and vanished from where she was helplessly on the floor. She appeared laying on her tummy on her bed. Her bed flashed and railings popped up all around, converting into a crib. A blinding flash sent her into a deep sleep. A bright ray of sunlight woke Lila up. Her mother entered the room, with the biggest smile on her face. “Ahh!” The mother cooed. “Did little Lila have a good night sleep? Here. Mommy’s going to get you out of your crib. Lila gasped. Sure enough, she was still an infant. And she felt so wet. A big mess was in there too. At this, her little body couldn’t take it anymore. She started to cry. The mother nodded, as she lifted Lila out of her crib and held her in her arms. “Don’t worry,” she told her darling daughter. “Mommy’s going to change you.” She then smelled a foul odor wafting from Lila’s diaper. “Hoo dear! You made quite a stinky! Here. Let mommy change you.” Lila glanced at the glowing diaper that she was still wearing. If mommy is going to change me, then I wish that the next diaper that mommy changes me in is a magic diaper like this one! Lila flashed and then giggled, as if the bright flash tickled her. The mother noticed her laughter and smiled. “Ah.” She cooed. “My little Lila is happy…” The mother laid Lila on a changing table. She unzipped her pink footed sleeper and unsnapped her white onesie. As she was about to take off Lila’s diaper, a voice made her turn around. “Mommy! I’m up!” The mother pivoted and noticed that it was Camden, in his green pajamas. Camden smiled when he glanced at his little sister. “How’s little Lila, mommy?” The mother smiled. “Lila’s a bright ball of sunshine this morning, Camden dear. Now, I’m about to change your sister’s diaper. It’s a very stinky one, so I don’t think you want to watch.” Camden closed his eyes and pretended to barf, making the barf sound. “Before you do that, I wanna thank you for not calling me a baby for peeing the bed last night.” The mother nodded. “You’re not. As I told you, I wet the bed when I was your age. Now, let me change your sister Lila’s diaper…” “Little Lila!” Camden said with a smile. He glanced down at his happy sister. Get into a clean one, okay? Mommy, I’m going to watch cartoons. Okay? I love Saturday!” Camden left the room, leaving the mother to take care of the important business with Lila. The mother opened up the tabs on Lila’s diaper and folded the front down. Just as she suspected, a large chunk of poo lay in the center, surrounded by the soggy liner. Lila glanced at her mother as she changed her diaper. One thing that she noticed was that she couldn’t see the glow coming from the diaper. Only she could see it for some reason. The mother lifted her out of the wet, stinky, and messy diaper and got out the wipes. She began wiping all the poo off of her diaper area. She wiped her frontal area really good and then laid Lila on her tummy to wipe all the poo out of her bottom and clean that area really good. Lila grinned as she reflected on seeing her brother in the room. Just as she wished, she was now the youngest again. And even better, she now has an older brother! The mother wiped everything one more time and rubbed some Aquaphor all over her daughter’s bottom, abdomen, and diaper area. Finally, she powdered her bottom and diaper areas with a few light pats. She opened up a brand new box of Huggies Little Snugglers. It was a huge pack with 180 diapers. She took the first white sleeve and tore the plastic along the top, exposing the rounded ends of all the new diapers. She pulled one out of the sleeve and held it. Right after she held it, it flashed brightly and began to glow. To Lila’s amazement, her mother couldn’t see the glow. Only she could see it. The mother laid Lila on the new glowing diaper and folded the front over her diaper area. She swiftly fastened both tapes to the center of the landing zone. Lila smiled, still in awe over the new glowing diaper that she had. Oh, I wish that every new diaper that I’m changed with is a magic diaper! No sooner did the words leave her thoughts when all of the diapers in that new opened sleeve began to flash and glow. Lila smiled, as her mother snapped up her onesie. So many wishes. Unlimited wishes. Her smile turned to laughter as she giggled with delight. Lila’s diaper wish came true.

Set after frozen 1 She had done it Elsa was queen Anna was saved and had a new boyfriend she could do this she had for 18 years after all, she was… as an involuntary whimper escaped her it’s not that this hadn’t been happening for nearly 2 decades she rationalized pulling her blanket around her shaking frame more as she tried to sleep, amusing herself by making silly shapes and an ice plane to hover around her she was a monster her parents had all but said as much she didn’t deserve comfort nor would she ask, she could handle this she was meant to be an example as she strained to keep her eyes shut in a sleepless stuper til morning

Chapter 1: The Morning That Changed Everything Kris woke up in the middle of the night. He felt the need to use the bathroom, which was a good thing for him. He actually woke up this time! Kris hated the fact that he was a bedwetter. He doesn't know when or how it started; he only knows that every morning, he wakes up to a wet bed. So, for him, waking up in the middle of the night is a miracle. He quietly got out from under his covers and started climbing down the ladder of his bunk bed, which he and his older brother, Kyle, shared. Shockingly, he managed not to wake his brother this time. Nearly every night, if Kris tries to get out of bed to get cleaned up, his brother wakes up, confirms that Kris peed himself, then falls back to sleep annoyed at the interruption. That in of itself wouldn't be too bad. If only Kyle would leave it at that. But no, Kyle goes out of his way whenever this happens to ensure Mom and Dad knew that Kris had an accident. So, to get away this time felt amazing, even if there wasn't an accident. He wouldn't have to confront his brother about it. Kris snuck out of the shared bedroom, past the girl's room across the hall, and went down the stairs to the bathroom, sitting at the bottom on the right. He did it! He made it to the potty in the middle of the night! Good thing, too, because he had to poop as well. Which was probably the reason he woke up this time. He hardly ever needed to do that so late in the evening. Proud that he managed to make it in time, Kris snuck his way back upstairs and into his bed, all without waking up anyone. He felt so proud of himself, he knew that tomorrow was going to be a good day. He would wake up to a clean bed in the morning, and hangout with his friends at Church in the afternoon. Kris loved that it was a Sunday. He knew his Mom would make a delicious breakfast for them all to enjoy. He wasn't a huge fan of going to Church every Sunday. It always felt boring to him. Playing with his friends before and after service started was always a blast, but sitting through the sermon felt like a chore. He woke up feeling excited to take on the day. Only, something didn't seem right. He was confused; why did it feel like his bed was wet? He made it to the bathroom last night, didn't he? He must have just had to go a second time without realizing it. he was frustrated that he had still managed to have an accident, wishing his trip to the toilet would have been enough to save him from his usual daily embarrassment. He started to remove his comforter so he could get out of bed and deal with his accident like he had done thousands of times before when suddenly, an odd sensation hit him like a ton of bricks. "No. I didn't. That's not fair," Kris thought, as he realized with confusion that he pooped himself in his sleep. He didn't get up to go to the bathroom; it was all just a dream. A cruel, unfair dream. Kris looked down and around his bunk briefly to check if Kyle had seen him start getting up. Maybe he could wait until he left their room and get cleaned up afterward. "Let's go, dude. Breakfast is on the table," Kyle called up to his brother from below his bed, as he finished putting on his socks for the day. "I'll be down in a minute," Kris replied, trying to remain calm. He tried to play things cool, acting as natural as he could. He hoped he could buy some more time, convincing his brother that everything was okay. "Well, hurry up and get dressed," Kyle replied impatiently. He knew Kris was a slacker, and would sleep in another two hours if they let him. "I'm gonna take a shower first." Kris tried to come up with an excuse as to why he would be late to breakfast. Knowing that if he went down in soiled pajama pants, his Dad would be furious. "Why?" Kyle shot back. They normally took showers in the evening. Kris saying he would take one first thing in the morning was odd. Unless, he had another accident. "He wet himself again. Didn't he?" Kyle already knew the truth. He was so frustrated sharing a bedroom with his little brother. He had been wetting himself for years now, and never really got the hang of nighttime training. He couldn't stand the fact that their room always smelled of urine. He's eight years old for crying out loud. Sam wasn't even wetting the bed anymore and she was six! "I just wanna take a quick shower, is all." Kris knew his brother probably saw through his lie by now. But held onto hope, that just maybe he would let this one slide. "You had another accident, didn't you?" Kyle poked, already knowing the answer. "...Yeah" Kris replied defeatedly. "Maybe he won't find out about how bad it is." Kris knew that he was busted. At this point, he just wanted to hide, and save himself from further embarrassment. "Just get changed. You can take a shower after breakfast if you really need to." Kyle was annoyed that he had to share a room with such a baby. "I'd really prefer to take one first." Kris's face burnt red as he blushed. He knew he was out of luck. There was no way his brother didn't know the current state of his situation at this point. "Why? It's not like you pooped yourself like a baby." "Oh my gosh, is that what that smell is? I thought he just farted or something." Kyle's face scrunched up in disgust. Kris just remained silent, not wanting to reply. His family has a strict no-lying policy, so he couldn't say he didn't, but he didn't want to admit it. *sigh* "I'll let them know you'll need an extra few minutes. But hurry up," Kyle told Kris, realizing what had happened, and that Kris would never admit to it. "Thanks..." Kris felt broken. He was grateful for his brother, thinking he would cover for him. But, the humiliation of his brother's words, and the state of his pajamas made him feel small and foolish. He thought he made it. He thought his parents would be proud of him for staying dry, but instead of just wetting his bed, he used it like a toilet. Chapter 2: Morning breakfast conversations Kris took the fastest shower of his life. He wanted to clean up this mess before anyone else had the chance to find out. He was lucky that the girls were already downstairs by the time he left the room, and the bathroom being at the bottom of the stairs was an added bonus saving him from the potential humiliation. His shower over, Kris bundled up his soiled and soaked pajamas into a ball. He hoped he could sneak them back upstairs before anyone saw them. He could get them cleaned later, first thing was not to let anyone find out. "Kris! Hurry up, bud. We are waiting on you," Kim, Kris' mom, shouted from the kitchen after hearing the bathroom door open. "Okay, I'll be down in a second, just need to put my pajamas back real quick," Kris replied, knowing he had to hurry before someone saw his clothes and questioned deeper on why he took a shower in the morning. "Don't!. Just put them in the laundry room. I'll get them washed later today." His mom replied. "That's odd? Normally, she has us all bring down all the laundry at once. Does she already know about my accident, or was she just trying to save me on time?" Kris knew he couldn't argue; he wanted to, but it wouldn't make sense. He might be able to play it off as him grabbing the rest of the laundry, but knowing the family was waiting on him to eat breakfast wasn't likely to work. Frustrated with the situation, he quickly took his bundled-up clothes and speed walked past the dining room to get to the back of the house towards the laundry room, hoping no one saw his soiled pajamas. Kris returned to the dining room, sitting in his usual spot next to his dad, across from his brother, with his younger sister Sam on his right. Everyone was in their usual spots. Something felt different. It felt like they were all looking at him, judging him. He hoped it was all in his head, but there was no way for him to tell. He was already self-conscious about what happened earlier with his brother. He knew he was a little late to breakfast, too, but that was nothing new; it was a common occurrence for him when it came to weekends. "French toast, yum! Thank you, Mom," Kris tried to distract himself with the world's best breakfast in his mind. His favorite part was covering his French toast in powdered sugar. It might be super unhealthy, but he didn't care. He was eight years old. He just wanted to eat something yummy. "Are we all ready to dig in?" Kim asked, making sure Kevin, their Dad, was ready to give the okay. He ran the house, so what he says goes. "Yep, let's dig in," he replied, grabbing his utensils and the first few slices from the stack of toast in the middle of the table. Everyone quickly followed suit to get their food. Kris had his classic white circle from all the powdered sugar around his plate. Kevin, seeing everyone enjoying the meal, and getting a few slices in his belly, decided to start some morning chatter. "So, how did everyone sleep?" "I slept great!" Tammi, the oldest of the four, started everyone off. She normally felt silenced due to their family dynamic; with "men running the house," so anytime she got a chance to speak up and be first, she wanted to take it. She wanted to be a role model for her siblings, especially for her younger sister. "I slept like a baby!" Sam chimed in next. Her words felt like a sharp pain in Kris's ears after his brothers comment this morning. His cheeks burned red with embarrassment at the remark. "I had this really cool dream. Do you wanna hear it?" She was the youngest, and always excited to go off on these wild dreams. Her imagination was hyper active, which made it easy for her to play by herself or with Kris at times, but also made for the longest stories ever. "Not right now, honey. Let's wait until everyone else goes first. Then, you can tell us all about it." Kevin told her. He didn't want to break her spirit about it, but he also knew once she got started, it might take an hour before she would finish. "Okay! How about you, Kyle? How did you sleep?" Sam poked, trying to get everyone through so she could share her story. She knew Kyle would be quick; he wasn't one to go into his dreams or be boring and talk about other things. "I slept okay," He replied. Kris could feel his heart racing. It nearly felt like it was trying to pound out of his chest. He was terrified at the thought that Kyle would tattle on him. Kyle nearly did every time he had an accident, it was almost like it was his mission to tell Mom and Dad whenever it happened. Would today be the same? "That's great. How about you, Kris? Did you sleep well?" Kevin knew Kyle was a young man with few words. He wanted to get to Kris, who he was wondering about. He had a feeling Kris had an accident this morning, otherwise why else would he have taken a shower so early in the day? Kris noticed a slight smile on Tammi's face. Kyle had his head down, looking at his food, and a small head shake. Kris had a feeling Tammi had found out what happened last night. He didn't know for sure, and wasn't about to admit to everyone at the breakfast table that he pooped himself last night. He didn't even want to admit when he wet himself, so this was a hundred times worse, he'd rather take this secret to the grave if he could. "Uhhh... Yea! I slept well. I even managed to wake up last night to go to the potty," Kris felt proud of himself, he knew he still had an accident last night, but the thought that he had made it to the bathroom, gave him a feeling of accomplishment. He might have thought it was a dream, but he also had no way to tell for sure if it was or not. "Liar! No, you didn't. Not even close. You pooped yourself in your sleep." Kyle snapped back, mad that his brother refused to own up to his accidents. "Kristopher!" Kim, shouted at him. The girls practically spat out their food at this reveal. They knew he wet the bed, he did it nearly every night without fail. But pooping himself? Only babies did things like that. Everyone was a little shocked that Kris didn't just own up to it. He normally tried to hide his bed wetting, but this was different, instead he tried to lie about it and claim he used the potty in the middle of the night. "Is this true?" Kevin's face was stern. He was mad that Kris would lie about this. Kris knew how he felt about lying. Normally, Kris would own up to having an accident, even if he wet himself on purpose, he would admit it. So why not this time? "Yeah..." Kris replied, defeated. There was no recovering from his brother's accusation. Kris could see his Dad was furious with this information. "What is up with this kid!? He uses his bed like his own personal toilet. This is insane!" Kevin thought. He was at his wits end with Kris's bed-wetting issue. They've talked about it hundreds of times, each one he claimed: "he didn't know what happened." "Dude! What happened?" Kevin was clearly irritated. "I don't know," Kris replied sheepishly. He really had no idea why he kept wetting the bed. He thought he did wake up in the middle of the night, but he couldn't dispute the fact that he woke up soaked, and covered in his own poop. "That's not acceptable." Kevin was livid at this point. He's had to buy several packs of underwear for Kris, each one to replace the pair he ruined from all his accidents. "I don't know why Daddy, I just didn't wake up." Kris sank in his chair slightly. He didn't know what to do or say. "Didn't wake up, huh? It sounds like he just didn't want to get up. How can this kid be so lazy and okay with peeing himself?" Kevin couldn't stand Kris's behavior. "So instead, you thought you'd lie about it and say you 'used the bathroom'?" Kevin wanted the truth out of his son. He wanted him to see the error of his ways, and that lying about it was wrong. He should know better. He needs to know better. Unsure how to answer, Kris just sat there in silence. *sigh* "Fine, let's go clean it up. You're going to watch how this is done. I'm sick of cleaning your bed for you. You're not a toddler anymore, and I'm too old for this." Kevin instructed Kris "Okay." Kris knew he was in trouble. But he didn't know what to do. It's not like he meant to poop himself in bed. All he knew was his dad was mad, and to not make things worse if he could avoid it. Chapter 3: The clean-up "Strip your bed. Everything needs to come off of it to clean up this mess." Kevin instructed his son. He left to get the spot shampooer from the cleaning closet, while Kris began to pull off his wet and soiled bedding. He felt a small tear forming in his eye. He never meant to make a mess; he didn't want this to be a part of his life, but it seemed like he had no choice in the matter. He felt completely humiliated at the situation he found himself in. That dream felt so real; he was positive he made it to the bathroom. "Did you get everything off?" Kevin spoke, breaking Kris's train of thought as he returned with the shampooer. "Yes, sir." Kris wanted to be as respectful towards his Dad as he could. Maybe, if he were lucky, his Dad wouldn't be any harder on him than he already was. "Good, now come here and watch how you get this thing ready." Kevin set the shampooer on the floor, placing the cleaning solution next to it. He didn't want to keep doing this, and after throwing out his old mattress, he didn't want to buy a new one either. Kris walked over to his Dad, standing next to him as his Dad poured the cleaner into the shampooer. "Only fill it to this line with the cleaner. The rest is warm water," Kevin instructed. "I don't want to have to keep doing this." Kris stood there in silence, slightly nodding at his Dad's words. "When will you grow up and stop peeing in your bed?" Kevin asked rhetorically. He knew Kris wasn't going to reply, and even if he did, it would just make him mad. Again, Kris didn't reply. How could he respond? It's not something he is in control of. *Sigh* "I guess that was more of a rhetorical question anyway. Alright, stay here and watch." Kevin positioned Kris in the doorway of his bedroom. He still had a rough line of sight but couldn't see too much of what his Dad was doing. "You really did a number on it this time. Not only did you soak it, but you managed to smear your poop so much it seeped through the sheets and onto the mattress." It was clear to see the look of disgust on Kevin's face. Kris felt embarrassed at his Dad's remark. He was used to feeling embarrassed whenever they talked about his accidents, but hearing his Dad's words while watching him clean up after his mess only made him want to hide behind the door frame. "I'm sorry," Kris said sorrowfully, looking down at his feet. "Sorry for what? Treating your bed like it's your own personal toilet?" Kevin snapped back, pausing his efforts to clean up the mattress. There was nothing he felt Kris could say that would make things better. Kris had no reply. He just stared at his Dad. He knew he couldn't say anything. He never intended to wet his bed; he never thought of it as a toilet, but there was no way his Dad would believe him. Not when he was mad like this. Five minutes into the cleaning process, Kris noticed his Dad had shifted focus from where most of the damage was done to a more whole-bed approach. Kris felt a little relief that this soon would be behind them. However, he also noticed that he had a growing pressure building up in his bladder. He needed to pee soon. He didn't want to interupt his Dad, but he also didn't want to stand here, bored, forever needing to pee. "Daddy?" Kris spoke up over the noise of the shampooer. "What?" Kevin switched off the machine to listen to what his son had to say. His tone made it clear he was still angry. "Can I go to the bathroom?" Kris asked sheepishly. He wanted to get out of this, but more importantly, he wanted to relieve himself. "Really? No apology, just asking to go to the bathroom after what you did to your bed?" Kevin thought to himself, upset at the thought that his son just wanted to get out of watching him clean up his mess. "Why don't you just go in your bed? After all, you seem to think it's a bathroom anyway." Kevin snapped back at his son in frustration. He couldn't believe he had the guts to try and get out of taking responsibility for ruining his bed. Kris wasn't sure what to do. He stood there frozen, afraid that he would just make things worse. He could do what his Dad told him, but that didn't make sense. His Dad was cleaning his bed, so he couldn't use it. Even if he did, he would be mortified to do so. He wanted to use the toilet. His other option was just to stand there waiting for his Dad to change his mind. Hopefully, he would. Each second there was silence between them felt like an eternity. The longer he waited to reply, the more likely he would make his Dad angrier. Trying to avoid making his Dad further upset only made this decision and his dad's comment all the harder. What is the right decision? Is there a right decision? "He's cleaning my bed. I can't go in it. Should I pee my pants instead?" Kris thought, torn on what he should do, not wanting to say a single word as that might upset his dad even more. "Well?!" his dad asked angrily. "You're just trying to get out of watching how to clean this up. Either hold it until we are done or pee your pants like the baby you've been acting like." Kevin had enough at this point after years of trying to get him dry during the night. His occasional daytime accidents didn't help. Especially since it was done on purpose each time. When confronted about it, he would admit he peed or pooped his pants on purpose either because he didn't want to stop playing or to try to get his siblings in trouble. It might have been a while since the last time that happened, but it felt like it was yesterday with all of his nighttime accidents. Kris blushed. Kyle calling him a baby was rude, but he could brush it off. Hearing it come from his Dad stung a little harder. He hoped he could hold it, but with all of the embarrassment and pressure from his dad, he wasn't sure. He felt he had to pee pretty bad, but was that because he did, or was it because he was trying to find a reason to avoid his dad for a little while? Kevin climbed off the ladder rather than starting to get back to cleaning. Kris felt his heart skip a beat as his Dad approached with the shampooer. "I need to empty this thing." He held up the shampooer. Kris could see the dirty tank on the shampooer; its water looked yellowy brown. He hadn't realized that his accidents had caused that much damage. "Stay here. You are not to leave this spot until I get back," Kevin instructed his son. "Okay," Kris replied. He wanted to follow his Dad, taking the chance to go pee. He was trying his best to hide the fact that he was starting to do a little potty dance. If his Dad had noticed, it would only make things worse and annoy him even more. Kevin left the room, leaving Kris alone with his thoughts. None of the other kids came over to check on him. Even having a conversation with Kris might have caused their Dad to get more upset, and no one wants to get switched. Just the thought of the plastic rod being used to spank them, was enough to send a shiver down their spines. Kris felt a huge pressure lift from his shoulders. His Dad's exit from the room gave him the chance to breathe. Kris wasn't sure if he was going to be punished or not today for what happened or if this was going to be the worst of it. All he knew was the sooner this could be over, the better. "Alright, this should be the last batch. Do you want to do it this time?" Kevin asked as he walked back into the room. Hoping his son would take responsibility this time. "Can I use the bathroom first?" Kris asked. He felt he wouldn't be able to hold on too much longer. He wasn't sure why his bladder was acting up so much, he just knew that he had to go, and he didn't want to shampoo his bed. *Sigh* "You're just trying to get out of doing work again. No. You can hold it until we are done. This will only take a few more minutes; wait here and watch." Kevin wasn't buying the fact that his son had to use the bathroom. He noticed his "potty dance" but wasn't buying that it was real. Kevin climbed back up the ladder to Kris's bed and started shampooing again. "I don't know if I can hold it much longer," Kris thought. Kris was doing his best to hold it in, he didn't want to do a potty dance, but he couldn't help himself. He placed his hand between his legs, trying to hold it in. Kevin was doing his best to ignore it. He knew if he addressed it, he would lose it, blowing his top off and yelling at Kris. He didn't want to do that, he was trying to not be a jerk, but the situation was really pushing his limits. Kris wasn't hopping from foot to foot but was shifting his weight from foot to foot now and then. Just enough to try and help, but not enough to become annoying. Kris kept trying his best, but after several minutes he reached the breaking point. He felt a small squirt of pee make its way to his pants. Dampening his underwear. It hadn't leaked through to his pants, but he knew he couldn't take it anymore. Another spurt quickly followed; afraid he was going to wet himself; Kris spoke up. Asking one more time would be better than just wetting himself in front of his Dad. "Daddy!" Kris shouted over the shampooer so his dad could hear him. "What now!?!" Kevin shouted back at his son as he turned off the shampooer. The pure anger on his Dad's face and the tone of voice used, full of anger and frustration sent a shiver down Kris's spine. It was too much for him. He was so scared; he lost his ability to speak, and... *hiss* He lost his control and started peeing his pants uncontrollably. "Dude!" Kevin shouted, "You've got to be kidding me. What are you two?!" Kevin lost it at this point. He quickly climbed down the ladder and walked over to his son. With how angry he was, he looked like he was ten feet tall and could bend a building in half if he wanted to. He grabbed Kris by the wrist and started dragging him toward the bathroom. Kris felt the tight grip on his wrist. He stumbled here and there, trying to keep up with his dad as he was pulled along. Kris felt tears rolling down his cheeks. He had no idea what would happen now. All he knew was this was the maddest he had ever seen his dad so far. "That's it, I've had enough. Fine! You want to pee yourself like a baby. You'll wear a diaper like one, too!" Kevin's shouting was heard throughout the whole house while he pulled Kris toward the bathroom. Kris's eyes were huge hearing this. His Dad threatened to put him in diapers before, but this was the first time it seemed like he was serious about getting them. Chapter 4: To the Store "Take a shower and get yourself cleaned up," Kevin told Kris, slightly tossing him into the bathroom. He felt furious that Kris would pee his pants like that. Kevin closed the door behind him, giving Kris some time to collect himself and clean up. "Unbelievable. He peed his pants. What is wrong with him? Yeah, he said he had to go. I bet he peed himself on purpose, hoping to get out of needing to finish cleaning his bed." Kevin's thoughts ran wild. He knew he was angry and likely wasn't thinking straight, but he followed through with what he told his kids. If they were throwing a fit at the store, they'd leave everything behind and go home until they learned to behave. He wanted them to learn that their word is their bond. Knowing he spoke out of anger didn't change the fact that he said he would get Kris diapers. Kris felt devastated. He looked at himself in the mirror, seeing the wet patch running down the front of his pants. He never felt more embarrassed in his life. He had wet his pants a few times after potty training, but that was either in the snow so no one could tell or when he didn't want to stop playing. This was the first time he accidentally wet himself in a long time. His Dad looked so angry. He'd never seen his Dad like that before. All he could hope for now was that the time it took for him to take a shower would be enough for his dad to calm down. "Kyle, go grab some clothes for your brother," Kevin spoke coldly. He wasn't going to let this instance with Kris affect the way he treated the others, but he also knew they needed to leave sooner. The quicker they all got ready, the better. "Girls, could you get the Bibles ready? We're heading to Church a little early today. We need to make a stop first." "Okay, Daddy!" both girls replied, quickly getting up from the couch and preparing for Church. Their family attended a small home-based church with about five families. They found that there was more community that way. Church service started at 11 a.m. on Sundays, and it was currently 9:10 am. The drive usually only took 30 minutes. Giving them only 30 minutes or so to shop if they left by 9:30 or 10. "Kris, you better hurry up with that shower. We're leaving for Church in 30 minutes. If you're not out in 15, I'll come in there turn off the hot water," Kevin said, trying to incentivize him. Kris quickly hopped into the shower and gave himself a quick but thorough cleaning He didn't know how long it took, all he knew was his Dad hadn't came in. So it must have been under 15 minutes. Stepping out of the shower, Kris heard his brother, Kyle, knock on the door. "I got you a change of clothes." "Thanks, be there in a second." Kris felt grateful that his brother had gotten him some clothes to change into. He quickly dried himself off, and opened the door a crack to grab the clothes. Luckily for him, it looked like Kyle had picked something he would enjoy wearing. Kris got dressed and sat on the toilet for a few moments, trying to calm down from the craziness this day turned out to be. Kris's moment of peace was short-lived as he heard another knock on the door. "Don't forget to use the bathroom before we leave. I don't want you peeing yourself while we are at the store." Kevin spoke briefly on the other side of the door. He wanted to hit the road soon. He always hated it when they were late. In his mind, if you're on time, you're late. "I will," Kris felt numb to his Dad's remark, already feeling destroyed for the day. The jabs felt like nothing; he was already miserable, and no one could make him feel any worse. He flipped up the lid on the toilet and tried to get anything and everything out. But nothing came out except for a few small farts. Not wanting to delay them, he quickly finished up and got ready to leave for Church. Kris opened the bathroom door and looked around, trying to see if his Dad was around. Not seeing any sight of him, he ran over to his mom. "Why are we going to the store before Church? I thought shopping was next week?" Kris hoped the reasoning wasn't what he thought it was. "I don't know, bud. Dad wants to make a quick stop before we get to Church this time," Kim lied. She knew that Kevin finally lost it and wanted to get Kris diapers, but she didn't have the heart to tell him. She secretly hoped that Kevin would just drop the subject but knew that wasn't likely to happen. Kris knew he was on the smaller side for his age, weighing only 46 lb. and measuring 3ft 8 inches. He was mad that he got placed back in a booster seat; now, he and Sam were both stuck in them. For a short while, he was able to go without them, finally feeling like the older brother to his sister, despite his accidents. The roll back to a booster seat, was a huge shot to his ego. The laws had changed to be based on weight or height limits instead of age, so he had no choice in the matter, yet another thing stolen from him. With everyone ready, the family started to pile into the car. Kris crawled into the back seat next to his younger sister, Sam. Even though he often had trouble buckling himself in, he could still manage it himself. "Everyone buckled?" Kevin asked from the driver's seat. "Yes," all the kids replied. Kevin was happy that all the kids managed to get buckled and settled in without issues for a change. He felt a small smile forming on his face. "Man, if only they behaved this well all the time," Kevin thought, but he knew they were only behaving because he was angry. The drive to the store was uneventful, which shocked Kevin. Normally, they have some type of argument, but it was total peace back there for a change. Kris sat in the back, trying to stay calm, but his nerves were getting the best of him. He didn't want to disappoint his dad or cause any more trouble. He just hoped that everything would be okay. Kevin pulled into a parking spot at the megastore. Kris tried to keep his anxiety in check as he unbuckled and made his way out of the car, following his family into the store. He knew that his dad was probably going to buy diapers for him. "Kyle, could you grab a cart for us, please?" Kevin asked, his tone softened. The drive over was enough of a break to take off the edge. Kyle wasted no time grabbing the cart and quickly ran back over with it. Kris followed his Dad and family into the store. He kept his eyes down, hoping no one would notice him. He felt small and vulnerable, like a little kid. He noticed that they were heading straight toward the baby section. His heart raced as his worst fear was becoming a reality. They were really going to buy diapers for him. He felt a lump form in his throat as they approached the diaper aisle. "Daddy, I don't need diapers," Kris said, his voice shaking a little. "Sorry, bud, I told you we would get them. Besides, your actions lately would say otherwise." Kevin replied, trying to sound gentle. "They'll be for you to wear at night, just in case. None of us want to keep cleaning your bed." Kris felt his face turn red. He didn't want to wear diapers like a baby. He knew he was a big kid. "Okay, let's see what we have here," Kevin began scanning the shelves, trying to find out which ones would fit him. He picked out a few different options. He found some nighttime pull-ups and some size 7 diapers that looked like they might do the trick, even if it was just to scare him into behaving better. "These should do the trick," Kevin handed Kris each box and package from the shelves he wanted to buy. He kept the selection semi-limited, only grabbing three different styles. Kris saw his sisters giggle slightly as he placed the box of size 7 diapers into the cart. He felt tears forming in his eyes. He didn't want to wear diapers. He wanted to be a big boy like his siblings. He knew that his dad was doing what he thought was best for him. Even if it made Kris feel embarrassed and small. As they checked out and headed back to the car, Kris kept his head down, hoping that no one would notice the boxes of diapers in their cart. He felt ashamed and humiliated. He knew that his dad loved him, but days like today made it a little hard for him to be close to him. He tried to focus on the thought of playing with his friends when they got to Church, but knowing that the diapers were easily visible in the back of their Suburban made him feel nervous that someone would see it. Chapter 5: Stressed Out Kris tried to keep his emotions under control as they pulled up to the home where their Church was held. It was a small, cozy place with a white picket fence and a large backyard. Kris was relieved to see that all of the other families were already there. There was no way anyone would see the diapers then, as they were the furthest away from the house at this point. He had a feeling his Dad was upset that they were late, but he couldn't see any signs if he was or not. Kris grabbed his things, including his Dad's bible, racing his younger sister down the stairs around the side of the house. They had a friendly competition between them over who could get into the house the fastest. They always had to slow down slightly as they approached the sliding glass door, not wanting to damage it or the host family's home. Entering the house, they set their bibles on the seats. They wanted to play with the other kids, but before they got the chance, they heard the other parents call them back to get ready for service to start. Kris felt disappointed; he had hoped he would have gotten a chance to play a little bit, at least before service started. His family joined them shortly after the kids returned and took their seats. Kris wanted to be frustrated, but he knew he was the cause of their lateness. With everyone in their seats, the service started. Kris's heart sank as they took prayer request for the week. He couldn't believe his ears when his Dad asked for them to pray about Kris's bedwetting problem. Kris wanted to sink away in his seat, to just disappear. One of his friends at Church knew about his issue, but that was because they had sleepovers all the time. Out side of him, he didn't think any of the other kids knew about it. He had to fight his emotions to just run away and hide, as he heard some of the other kids giggle, quickly being hushed by their parents. Kris knew he could do nothing about the situation. He tried to bury his face into his bible, and song book every chance he got. He followed along with the lesson like he always did. Zoning out mostly, he joined, singing along with the songs, but everything else felt like a bore. Before he knew it, the service was over, and the families were chatting about their week. It was one of the things they did to connect a little bit more. Kris both enjoyed and hated this part. He counted how many families were left before they were finally done. But every time it got to them in the past, he would get excited. He loved it when his parents talked about him and his siblings. They normally just talk about the good highlights, which always makes him feel special. He felt his anxiety rise as his Dad started to talk about their week. He was worried that he would talk about his bed wetting again. He was shocked that his Dad hand't brought it up again. Kris was relieved that service was finally over, but he felt tired. Everything was stressing him out, and the boredom of service didn't help. He wanted to just leave and go home, forgetting this nightmare ever happened. Unfortunately for him, his parents wanted to stick around for a while, chatting with the other adults. Kris began panicking. Would the other kids pick on him for wetting the bed? Would any of them find out about the diapers? He couldn't stop thinking about the box of diapers in the car. He felt embarrassed and ashamed as if he was somehow less of a person because he needed them. "Hey Kris! You wanna come play with us?" Breaking from his thoughts, he was hesitant, worried they might just want to pick on him. Play house or something and make him the baby. Kris looked at his friend, who had broken him out of his worries. It was Ben. Ben had already known about his accidents, so there was no way he would be planning something. Pushing his worries aside, Kris ran over to play with his friend for a while, distracting himself. Kris felt normal as he played with the other kids. No one said anything or even implied anything about his bed-wetting. He thought one of his siblings would have said something, but it seemed like they were content just having fun with the other kids. "Time to clean up." Kris heard his Mom call down the hallway. He felt bummed that they couldn't play longer but was happy he at least got a chance to have some fun before they had to leave. He grabbed his things and his Dad's bible, just like when he came in. Walking out the door and heading back up to the car was less of a race. Kris suddenly felt his Dad's hand on his shoulder, standing behind him. "You okay, bud?" He asked reassuringly. His Dad wasn't angry anymore. Kris could see a genuine interest in him, and how he was doing. Kris nodded, but he wasn't feeling okay at all. He felt ashamed for needing diapers, and he was sure that everyone knew it. Kevin placed his hand on Kris's back and gently nudged him on. "Come on, let's go home,". Kris climbed into the backseat of the car, feeling small and defeated as his eyes made contact with the box of diapers in the back. He buckled himself in and watched as his family got settled in the front. They drove away from Church. Kris couldn't shake the feeling that he was different from everyone else. He didn't want to be a burden, but he couldn't help feeling like he was. Kevin glanced back at Kris in the rearview mirror. "Hey, I know this is tough," he started. "But you did great at Church today. We'll get this bedwetting thing under control in no time, okay?" Kris didn't respond. He just looked out the window, trying to hold back tears. He knew that this wasn't going to go away overnight. He wanted it to, but he had no control over the situation. Kris was glad when they finally got home. He took his bible inside. He thought his parents were going to make him take the diapers in the house as well, or take them upstairs, but they hadn't said anything. Exhausted from the lack of sleep and from the emotional turmoil of the day. Kris decided he was going to take a nap. He normally didn't like taking a nap, not even in the car, but today. He needed it. He made his way upstairs, and climbed up into bed. His mattress was still slightly damp from cleaning it. Not wanting to get cold, he grabbed an extra blanket he kept in their closet, and placed it down on the mattress. He lay there, staring up at his ceiling. He had posters up for different events they went to. He felt lost, and alone. Like no other kid knew what it was like to be like him. He felt he was the only one in the world with these issues. But, as he lay there, he remembered that there are millions of other kids all around the world. There had to be other kids like him. He knew there was no way he was actually alone. Even with how his Dad acted, he knew he still loved him. Slowly, he started to feel a little better. He knew that things wouldn't be easy, but he also knew that he had his family to help him through. He closed his eyes, tired of thinking, tired of remembering, tired from being tired, and slowly drifted off to sleep. Little did he know, it was a bad idea to have fallen asleep... Chapter 6: Not Again… Kris shifted in his bed, slowly waking up from his nap. Stretching his arms up after getting some much-needed shuteye, he froze, reality shattering in with the awareness of another bedwetting episode. "Not again," Kris thought to himself. The familiar scent of his embarrassment was in the air. He climbed off his ladder, connected to his top bunk, and over to his dresser after yet another accident. Trying to hide his shame. "This is the third time today." Kris thought with defeat. "This isn't fair; I don't want to wear diapers." Kris opened his dresser drawer to get a new pair of underwear and clean pants. "You can't be serious," He whispered while looking through the drawers, franticly looking for some fresh underwear and pants, only to find none. Not even the pair of pants he usually doesn't wear. "Where are they?" Kris changed his focus to the dirty laundry, but there was nothing there either. Kris begins to tear up. "No. It's not fair. Where are they? I can't even find pajama pants." While Kris was sleeping, Kim asked Kyle to grab all his pants and underwear. This way, if he had an accident, he wouldn't be able to hide and lie about it. Feeling flustered on what to do, Kris stood there, contemplating the next steps. The thought of going downstairs in his soaked pants made his stomach churn with embarrassment. The alternative, staying upstairs to avoid the potential judgment from his family, seemed equally daunting. It would only be a matter of time before someone came up to check on him; then what would he do? After an internal debate, Kris took a deep breath and decided to face the consequences. He carefully headed down the stairs, each step accompanied by the hushed rustle of fabric. As he approached the bottom, a knot of anxiety tightened in his chest. Kris's older brother, Kyle, was in the living room with the rest of the family, engrossed in the TV. As Kris cautiously emerged, Kyle's eyes widened, and a mischievous grin played on his lips. "Hey, Kris! Nice pants! Did you have a little accident?" Kyle called out, his voice carrying through the room. A flush of embarrassment painted Kris's cheeks as he attempted to play it cool, doing his best to shield his pants from prying eyes. The living room fell silent, the TV momentarily forgotten as the family turned their attention to Kris's descent. "Seriously, Kris? Did you pee yourself?" Tammi, his older sister, chimed in with a teasing tone. Kris winced but nodded reluctantly, "Yeah, okay, I did. Can we not make a big deal out of it?" The silence lingered briefly before erupting into laughter and an onslaught of teasing from the family. "Dude! Did you forget how to use the bathroom or something?" Kevin, his father, spoke up, feeling frustrated. Kyle added, "Good thing we got you those diapers, Kris! Looks like you can use one right about now." "No..." Kris began, his voice trailing as he realized he had no ground to stand on with his current state. His shoulders slumped in defeat. His attempt to argue back was halted by the reality of his soaked pants and the amused expressions of his family. He shot a glare at Kyle, who was reveling in the moment. Sensing Kris's distress, Kim stepped forward; concern etched across her face. "Come on, Kris. Let's get you cleaned up." She motioned for him to follow her. As they retreated to the bathroom, Kris couldn't help but complain, "Where did all of my pants go? I couldn't find anything!" Kim sighed, understanding the frustration in Kris's voice. "I asked Kyle to gather your clothes, sweetie. These accidents are just something we're going to have to work through together. Hiding them won't help." Kris shot back, "But it's embarrassing! I don't want everyone knowing!" Kim knelt to Kris's eye level, her tone soft but firm. "Honey, we're a family. We support each other. You're not alone in this; we're here to help you. Now, let's focus on cleaning you up, and then we can talk about how to make things a bit easier for you, okay?" Kris simply nodded, still having a heavy heart. As Kim started helping Kris change into dry clothes, she suggested, "Maybe, for now, you could try wearing one of the diapers we got. It might help avoid these situations, and you'll know what it'll feel like later tonight." Kris's face scrunched up with reluctance. "A diaper? Mom, I don't want to wear diapers. I'm not a baby!" Kim looked at Kris, her eyes filled with empathy. "I know it's not ideal, sweetheart, but it could be a temporary solution while we work through this. You're not a baby; it's about finding a way to make things a bit easier for you. What do you think?" Kris hesitated, conflicted by the idea of wearing a diaper. He didn't want to give in to the teasing from his siblings, especially Kyle's recent comment. The thought of it made him feel small and helpless. "I don't know, Mom. I just don't want everyone to think I'm a baby," Kris muttered, looking down at the floor. Kim sighed, continuing to help Kris change into dry clothes. She spoke gently, "Kris, I understand this is hard for you, but wearing a diaper doesn't make you a baby. It's just a temporary measure to help you through a challenging time. Let's try it for now, and we'll work together to find a better solution." Kris remained resistant, his brows furrowed in frustration. "But Mom, I really don't want to. It's embarrassing, and Kyle just made that comment about diapers. I don't want to prove him right." "I know, Kris, but we need to find a way to manage this. The diaper is just a tool, and I promise we'll keep working on a more permanent solution. It's not about proving anyone right; it's about taking care of yourself." "I can't," Kris protested, his voice shaky. "I won't wear a diaper." Kim looked at Kris with a mix of empathy and determination. "Kris, I need you to understand that this is for your own comfort and well-being. We're a team, and as a team, we need to make decisions that are best for everyone. It's not just about what you want right now; it's about finding a way for all of us to get through this together." Kris sighed in frustration, feeling the weight of the situation. "Mom, I really can't." Kim, maintaining her resolve, looked directly into Kris's eyes. "Alright, Kris. I didn't want to do this, but if you don't wear the diaper willingly, I won't be able to give you any pants, and you'll have to go out with just the diaper on. It's your choice, sweetheart. Will you wear the diaper willingly or choose the second option?" Kris hesitated, realizing that his mom wasn't going to back down. Chapter 7: The Reveal Kris stood there, his mind swirling with conflicting emotions. On one hand, he dreaded the idea of wearing a diaper, feeling like it would only magnify his embarrassment. On the other hand, the thought of not being able to wear pants and still needing to wear a diaper felt unfair. After a moment of tense silence, Kim broke the standoff with a gentle yet firm voice. "I understand this is hard for you, but I need you to choose. Will you wear the diaper willingly, or do we go with the second option?" Kris hesitated, feeling the weight of his decision bearing down on him. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he nodded. "Okay, Mom. I'll wear it." Kim's face softened into a small smile of relief. "Thank you, Kris. I know this isn't easy for you, but I promise we'll work through this together." She reached over to the sink, where a package of pull-up diapers lay. "Now, there are two designs for you to choose from." Holding out the two different designs for him to see. "There's the Hulk, and the other is radioactive. Which one do you want?" Kris glanced at the designs, feeling a glimmer of amusement amidst his discomfort. "Um, I guess...the Hulk one." Kim nodded, setting aside the radioactive design. "Great choice! Let's get you changed into this; then, we can join everyone out in the living room. Dad has some exciting news he wants to share with everyone." As Kris pulled up the diaper, he couldn't help but notice how different it felt compared to his usual underwear. It was thicker and bulkier, and the sensation of it hugging his waist felt strange and unfamiliar. Despite his reservations, he found a small sense of relief in knowing that he would at least have a clean pair of pants to wear over it. Once he was dressed, Kim knelt to his level, her expression full of warmth and encouragement. "How does it feel? Is it comfortable?" Kris hesitated, searching for the right words. "It's...weird. But I guess it's not too bad." Kim smiled, relieved that Kris had agreed to wear the diaper. "That's good to hear. I'm sure it'll feel more comfortable as you get used to it." She handed him a pair of pants, and Kris eagerly slipped them on, grateful for the added layer of coverage. As he adjusted the waistband, he couldn't help but steal a glance at himself in the mirror, half expecting to see the diaper outline beneath the fabric. To his surprise, there was no obvious sign of the diaper's presence. It was hidden well under his pants. Kris felt a rush of relief wash over him, realizing that maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he had feared. Kim watched Kris with a knowing smile, seeing the relief wash over his face. She knew that Kris was still self-conscious about wearing the diaper, but she hoped that with time, he would come to see it as just another part of his routine. As they left the bathroom, Kim lightly patted Kris on the butt, a gesture of encouragement and support. "You're doing great, Kris. Now, let's go see what exciting news Dad has for us." As Kris walked ahead of his mom towards the living room, Kim couldn't help but notice the slight outline of the diaper beneath his pants. It was subtle, barely noticeable to anyone who wasn't looking for it, but to Kim, it was a stark reminder of the challenges Kris was facing. She hoped that none of the other kids would notice. The last thing Kris needed was more teasing and embarrassment from his siblings, especially after Kyle's comment about him needing a diaper now. Kim's heart ached for her son, knowing how much he dreaded being the center of attention for something he couldn't control. As they approached the living room, Kris's steps slowed slightly, his worry noticeable in the way he glanced around nervously, waiting for his mom to catch up. Kim could sense his fears of his siblings' reactions. Sure enough, as they entered the room, Kris's fears were realized. Tammi and Kyle were sitting on the couch, their eyes lighting up with mischief as they spotted Kris. "Hey, look who's here! It's diaper boy!" Kyle exclaimed, a smirk playing on his lips. Kris's heart sank at the sound of Kyle's taunting voice. He felt a surge of frustration and embarrassment, knowing that his siblings were already making fun of him. "Knock it off, Kyle," Kris retorted, his voice tinged with irritation. "It's not funny." Tammi joined in with a snicker, "Yeah, I guess he's officially a baby now, huh?" "I'm not a baby!" Kris retorted, his voice trembling slightly with frustration. "I just...I had an accident, okay?" But Kyle and Tammi seemed unfazed, continuing to taunt Kris with smirks and snide remarks. "Aw, poor baby Kris," Kyle taunted, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Need mommy to change your diaper?" Tammi chimed in, "Yeah, maybe we should start calling you Baby Kris from now on!" Kris felt a surge of anger boiling within him, his fists clenching even tighter as he struggled to maintain his composure. He wanted to lash out, to scream and shout at his siblings for their cruelty. But deep down, he knew that wouldn't solve anything. Instead, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm despite the overwhelming urge to retaliate. "You guys are jerks," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. As Kris fought to control his emotions, Kevin's voice boomed from across the room, cutting through the tension like a knife. "Enough!" His tone was sharp, his frustration evident as he glared at Kyle and Tammi. Kris looked up, relief flooding through him at the sight of his father stepping in. Kevin's eyes narrowed as he addressed his other children. "That was too far. Kyle, Tammi, apologize to your brother. Now." Kyle and Tammi exchanged guilty glances, their smirks fading as they realized the severity of their father's tone. "Sorry, Kris," they mumbled in unison, their voices barely above a whisper, gazing down, unwilling to look at him face to face. Kevin's stern reprimand seemed to deflate the tension in the room, and Kris let out a silent sigh of relief as his siblings begrudgingly offered their apologies. It was a small victory, but at least for now, the teasing had stopped. "Alright, now that is behind us," Kevin declared, his voice firm but calm. "I have some exciting news to share with all of you." Kris's ears perked up at the mention of exciting news, momentarily distracted from the lingering discomfort of the earlier confrontation. He glanced at his father, curiosity sparking in his eyes. Kevin's expression softened into a warm smile as he gestured towards the envelope in his hand. "Well, I ran into an old friend of mine the other day, and he offered us something pretty special." He paused for dramatic effect, relishing in the anticipation building among his children. "Tickets to Disney World." The words hung in the air, eliciting gasps of astonishment and excitement from Kris and his siblings alike. Kris's eyes widened in disbelief, his heart racing with anticipation at the thought of visiting the magical world of Disney. "Really? We're going to Disney World?" Kris exclaimed, his voice tinged with excitement. Kevin nodded, his smile widening at his children's enthusiastic reactions. "That's right. We leave in two weeks." Kris could hardly contain his excitement, his mind buzzing with visions of thrilling rides and beloved characters. He glanced at his siblings, seeing the same spark of excitement mirrored in their eyes. Tammi let out a squeal of delight, imagining herself posing with her favorite princesses. Kyle grinned from ear to ear, eager to experience Disney World for the first time. Even Sam, being oddly quiet this whole time, jumped about with excitement. As the initial shock wore off, the room erupted into a frenzy of excited chatter and planning. Kevin watched with a sense of satisfaction, grateful for the opportunity to create cherished memories with his family. But amidst the excitement, Kris couldn't shake being nervous about wearing diapers at night now. The thought of exploring Disney World with his secret being left at the hotel for anyone to find weighs heavily on his mind. What if someone found them? Would his friends back at home find out? What would others think of him? Nevertheless, as he watched his family eagerly discussing plans and packing lists, Kris couldn't help but feel excited. This would be the first family vacation they have gone on, and to Disney World, no less! With that thought in mind, Kris was swept away in the excitement of the impending adventure, determined to make the most of every magical moment at the happiest place on earth. Chapter 8: Night One As dinner time approached, Kris's stomach churned with a mix of excitement and anxiety. The smell of his mother's cooking filled the air, giving him a temporary sense of peace. He took his seat at the table, feeling the soft padding under his butt as he sat on the hard wooden chair. It was both comfortable, and awkward having this newfound softness added. Shortly after, his siblings gathered around as they eagerly anticipated their meal. "So, Kris," Tammi began, her tone teasing as she shot him a mischievous grin. "Do you think you'll be able to handle all the excitement at Disney World without having any accidents?" Kris felt a flush of embarrassment creep up his cheeks at Tammi's remark, his heart sinking as he braced himself for another round of teasing from his siblings. Before he could respond, Kyle chimed in with a smirk, "Yeah, I heard some of those rides can be pretty intense. Are you sure you won't need a diaper change halfway through?" Kris clenched his jaw, his fists tightening as he fought to maintain his composure. He desperately wanted to sink beneath the table, away from the prying eyes and taunting remarks of his siblings. But despite his frustration, Kris knew that retaliating would only fuel their teasing further. So, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to plaster on a fake smile as he replied, "Ha-ha, very funny, guys. I'll be fine, thank you very much." His words sounded weak even to his ears, but Kris refused to let his siblings see how much their teasing truly affected him. Instead, he focused on his dinner, silently praying for the conversation to shift away from his bedwetting struggles. "That's enough, you two!" Kevin's voice is firm and authoritative. "I just told you two to knock it off in the living room a minute ago. If you keep doing this, you'll get a spanking." His siblings fell silent under their father's stern gaze, and Kris breathed a small sigh of relief. He appreciated his dad's intervention, even if it was a temporary relief from their teasing. With the topic changed, the family was able to enjoy the rest of dinner without incident. Despite the anxiety bubbling in Kris's stomach, he managed to put on a brave face and join in the conversation, even mustering a few laughs at his siblings' jokes that weren't about him for a change. Once dinner ended, Kim instructed Kris and Sam to help clear the table. Kris nodded as he gathered up the empty plates. Sam skipped over to him, a cheerful smile lighting up her face as she grabbed a stack of dishes. "Come on, Kris! Let's race to see who can finish first!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm infectious as she ran towards the kitchen. Kris chuckled, the tension easing slightly as he followed his younger sister's lead. He focused on the task at hand, determined to prove that he could handle the simplest of chores and beat his little sister. As they worked, Kris felt a familiar pressure building in his bladder. He glanced toward the bathroom, noting his need to go, but he also knew that helping his mom with the chores was important. Ignoring the discomfort, he continued to clear the table. But as the minutes passed, the urge to use the bathroom became too strong to ignore. Kris excused himself, intending to quickly relieve himself before returning to help Sam. However, as he made his way toward the bathroom, Sam's voice rang out behind him, her tone accusatory. "Hey! Where do you think you're going? We're supposed to be cleaning up together!" Kris paused, turning to face his sister with a sheepish expression. "I just need to use the bathroom real quick. I'll be right back." But Sam wasn't convinced, her brow furrowing in suspicion. "Mom! Dad! Kris isn't helping!" she called out, her voice carrying through the house. Kris's heart sank as he watched his parents enter the room, their expressions questioning. "I just need to use the bathroom real quick." He told them, hoping they would understand. Kim's face softened with understanding, but Kevin's expression remained stern. "Alright. Hurry up and come back to help," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument. With a nod of gratitude, Kris rushed to the bathroom, relief flooding through him as he used the bathroom. But even as he relieved himself, he couldn't shake the sting of embarrassment at being accused of shirking his responsibilities by his younger sister. While washing his hands, he couldn't help but notice that the pack of nighttime diapers that were in here earlier was gone, nowhere to be seen. Even looking under the sink and trying to find them, nada, they were gone. As Kris returns to help Sam with the dishes, he tries to push aside the embarrassment of the earlier incident. However, unbeknownst to him, his attempt to discreetly readjust his pants wasn't as successful as he hoped. The diaper's edge peeked out from the waistband, visible to any onlookers. While walking back from the bathroom and heading towards the kitchen, Kris could see his two older siblings out in the living room. Unwilling to make eye contact, he quickly rushed past to get back to help. Tammi and Kyle kept quiet, not wanting to test their dad, but looked at each other and gave a small snicker, seeing the diaper sticking out of the back of his pants. Back in the kitchen, Sam was absorbed in her task and didn't notice the diaper until she leaned over to place a plate on the counter. Her eyes widened in surprise as she caught a glimpse of the telltale edge. She straightened up, turning to Kris with a curious expression. "Hey, Kris," she whispered, a curious expression on her face. "Are you wearing a diaper?" Kris's heart skipped a beat, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he glanced around to ensure no one else heard. Then, checking his back, he noticed his pants were down slightly, showing it off. His cheeks were now burning with embarrassment. After hesitating for a moment, he nodded sheepishly. At the same time, pulling his pants back into place. "Yeah, I am," he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. Sam's eyes widened with surprise, but she quickly composed herself and leaned in closer, her voice barely a whisper, "Is it because of your accident earlier?" Kris nodded again, grateful for Sam's understanding and discretion. He didn't know how he would have handled it if she had teased him like his other siblings. "Don't worry," Sam whispered, her voice filled with innocence. "I won't tell anyone. It's our little secret." Kris's shoulders relaxed as he let out a sigh of relief. He knew he could trust Sam to keep his secret safe. With that weight lifted off his chest, he felt a newfound sense of comfort in their relationship. "Thanks," he whispered back, offering her a small but genuine smile. With the dishes cleared away, Kris and Sam joined the rest of their family in the living room. They settled down on the couch, enjoying the warmth and comfort of their home as they prepared for the rest of the evening. As they watched TV, Kris felt a sense of normalcy return, the tension from earlier dissipating with each passing moment. He chuckled at the antics of the characters on screen, feeling grateful for the distraction from his own worries. While relaxing, Kyle's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Hey, Kris," Kyle said, holding out a bowl of popcorn. "Want to share?" Kris hesitated momentarily; he hated when the kernels got stuck in his teeth. Despite the teasing from earlier, Kris knew his brother didn't actually dislike him. With a small smile, he nodded and grabbed a handful. "Thanks, Kyle," he said, his voice sincere as he passed the bowl back to his brother. Kyle grinned back at him, their tension easing as they shared a bowl of popcorn while watching TV to end the day. As the evening wore on, the family went about their usual routine. They took turns showering and getting ready for bed, the familiar rituals providing comfort and stability amidst the chaos of the day's struggles. As Kris made his way upstairs to prepare for bed, he couldn't shake off the lingering discomfort from the events of the day. Despite the break from his siblings' teasing, the memory of his exposed diaper and their whispered conversations still nagged at him. How could he be so careless? Entering his room, Kris approached his dresser, intending to retrieve his pajamas for the night. However, as he pulled open the drawers, his heart sank as he realized they were still empty. "Mom must still have them," Kris muttered, his frustration rising as he realized he would have to confront his mother about it. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Kris made his way to his parent's room, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet hallway. He paused outside the closed door, hesitating for a moment before mustering up the courage to knock. "Mom?" Kris called out tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper as he knocked. The door creaked open, revealing Kim's tired but welcoming smile as she greeted her son. "Hey there, bud. What's up?" Kris hesitated momentarily, "Um, Mom, I... I need some pajamas," he stammered, his gaze dropping to the floor in shame. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the fact that he needed to ask his mom for clothes. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," she said gently, her voice laced with regret. "I completely forgot to give them back to you. Here, let me get you a pair." Kim momentarily disappeared into the room before emerging with a pair of pajamas. She handed them to Kris, her smile apologetic as she met his gaze. "Here you go, sweetheart," she said softly. "I'm sorry for forgetting. You can wear these tonight," she said while handing Kris the only onesie pajama he still had left. Kris hardly ever wears it, as it's a bit itchy. But he isn't about to argue, it's been a long enough day as is. "Thank you." Kris accepted the pajamas with a grateful but exhausted smile. "Do you need a new diaper too?" Kris's eyes got huge; he wasn't expecting his mom to ask if he needed a diaper so casually. He hesitated, his stomach churning with discomfort. He glanced down at the clean diaper he was wearing, feeling a surge of embarrassment at the thought of his mom thinking he might have had an accident in it already. "N-no, I'm okay," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. "This one's still clean." Kim nodded understandingly, though Kris could sense a hint of concern in her eyes. She didn't press the issue further, offering him a reassuring smile as she ushered him off to shower. "Alright, sweetheart. Just let me know if you need anything. Even if it's in the middle of the night and it leaks, okay?" she said gently, her hand resting on his shoulder comfortingly. The weight of his mother's words settled heavily on his shoulders. The idea of his diaper leaking in the middle of the night sent a shiver of anxiety down his spine. He nodded silently, unable to find his voice as he swallowed back his fears. "Okay, Mom," he finally managed to murmur, his voice barely audible as he forced a weak smile. Kim's expression softened, her hand giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "It's okay. Now go take your shower and get ready for bed. You'll feel better after a good night's rest," she encouraged. Kris nodded again, offering his mom a small but appreciative smile before stepping into the bathroom. As he closed the door behind him, he leaned heavily against the sink, his mind racing with worries and doubts. He couldn't shake off the worry about the possibility of his diaper leaking in the middle of the night. The thought of waking up in a wet bed, embarrassing himself further, sent a shiver down his spine. Pushing the thoughts to the side, Kris opted to get his shower done and over with. It's been a long day, and they have a trip in two weeks that he can't wait for. 13 nights until they leave. As he emerged from the shower, Kris wrapped himself in a towel, his thoughts consumed by the uncertainty of what lay ahead: would he have accidents at Disney World? Are the rides really scary? What will the plane ride be like? It's his first time, after all. He dried himself off mechanically, his movements automatic as he tried to push aside his fears. His fingers hesitated as he reached for his clothes, hovering uncertainly over the diaper. Did he really need to put it back on? Then he glanced at the onesie pajamas his mom had given him; why did she have to pick those of all the sets he had? Seeing the pair made him feel even more like a baby, a stark reminder of his vulnerability. With a heavy sigh, Kris reluctantly slipped into the diaper and his pajamas, feeling the scratchy fabric against his skin as he struggled to adjust to the annoying sensation. He couldn't shake off the feeling of being exposed and the helplessness of having his accidents and the solution to them on display for everyone to see. How did this day go so wrong? But despite his misgivings, Kris knew he had no choice but to soldier on. With a resigned sigh, he climbed up his ladder to his bunk upon reaching the top, a reminder from earlier in the day. No one cleaned up his accident from his nap. Kris hung his head low as he climbed back down his ladder to ask his mom for help yet again. "What's up, dude?" Kyle asked as he was crawling into his bottom bunk. "My bed is still wet from earlier," Kris responded, giving up on trying to hide anything at this point in the day. He just wanted to go to sleep and forget all about this day. "You didn't clean it up yet?" "No." "Dad just showed you how to earlier. Why didn't you just clean it up?" "I didn't think about it; I kind of forgot about it with everything that's happened today." "What's going on, you two? Lights should have been out by now?" Kevin came over to check in on his two boys. "Kris's bed is still wet from when he peed himself earlier today," Kyle told his dad nonchalantly. *Sigh* "Alright, grab the shampooer you're doing it this time." Kevin told Kris while looking annoyed but drained at the same time. Not nearly as angry as he saw him last time they cleaned his bed. Kris quickly left their room and went downstairs to get the shampooer from the laundry room. Luckily for him, it still had some cleaner in it from last time. "Do you remember how to use it?" "Yes, sir," Kris replied as he started up his ladder. "Good, hurry up and get it cleaned up. I'll be back in a minute with a towel you can put down and a new set of sheets." Kevin instructed Kris as he left the room. Tired and just wanting to be done with the day, Kris rushed in to clean the bed. Spraying down the cleaner, then using the nozzle to suck up the mucky yellow grime and bubbles laden in the fibers. The two scents swirled together, creating an unpleasant combination but leaving behind at least a milder scent on the bed. Once finished to the point where the bed was at least acceptable to lay in, he climbed down his ladder and set the shampooer to the side of their bed. He didn't want to return it downstairs. He was done and just wanted the night to end. He then stood in front of the ladder, waiting for his father to return with the promised towel. Kevin returned a moment later with a fluffy towel tucked beneath one arm and a new pair of sheets in the crook of his other. Looking to the shampooer, he tossed the towel up on the top bunk while reaching for the machine, he dropped the sheets to the floor. "Make the bed, and go to sleep." His father said as he exited the room without glancing at Kris. Not wanting the night to drag on any longer than it had to, Kyle got out of bed and helped Kris make his bed by handing him his sheets and a new blanket. "Night dude," Kyle told his brother, as he turned off the light and got back into bed himself, pulling up the novel he had been reading. Exhausted from the day, Kris felt himself drifting off to sleep, his worries and fears momentarily forgotten in the embrace of slumber. Chapter 9: New Routines A few days had passed since the family's decision to use night diapers for Kris. The household had settled into a new routine, one that involved Kris needing to greet his mom and siblings downstairs in the morning before he could get changed and take a shower. It was frustrating, needing to ask for his clothes each day as if he couldn't be trusted to clothe himself without trying to hide something. For Kris, these days were a mix of relief and anxiety. The diapers offered a sense of security, knowing he wouldn't wake up in a wet bed. The mornings were particularly challenging for Kris. As he woke up, he would gingerly check his diaper, his heart sinking at the realization that it was wet once again. He would silently curse himself for not being able to control his bladder like a normal kid—a constant reminder of his predicament, a fact that was not lost on his siblings. Kyle and Tammi had toned down their teasing, at least in front of their parents. Still giving Kris a knowing look or smirk on occasions whenever he had to ask for clothes or the topic of his bedwetting came up. On the other hand, Sam kept her promise and never mentioned Kris's diapers to anyone else. He was grateful for her loyalty, even if it didn't completely erase his embarrassment. However, the worst part came when he had to face his family at the breakfast table. He could feel their curious gazes lingering on him, their unspoken question hanging in the air. Was he dry this time? He ignored the whispers and glances, focusing instead on his breakfast. Despite his efforts to ignore it, Kris couldn't escape the sensation of his wet diaper as he sat down to eat breakfast. The crinkle of the diaper seemed louder than ever. Every shift in his seat brought a new awareness of the soggy padding between his legs. As he picked at his food, Kris felt shame and frustration. He hated the way his family tiptoed around the topic of his bedwetting, their sympathy only serving to highlight his embarrassment. He longed for things to return to "normal," to wake up in a dry bed and not worry about diapers or accidents. Across the table, Kris could sense the curious glances of his family, their eyes flickering briefly in his direction before hastily averting their gaze. He knew what they were thinking, even if they didn't say it out loud. He was the diaper boy now, the one who couldn't even control his bladder, just like a baby. After he finished breakfast, Kris sat in the lingering discomfort of his wet diaper, waiting for his siblings to finish eating before he could change. His mom broke the silence, her voice gentle yet tinged with concern. "Kris, how did you sleep, bud?" she asked. Kris shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "Fine, I guess," he muttered, not wanting to admit that he'd been able to sleep more soundly through the night. His mom nodded, her expression softening. "That's good to hear. I know this is hard for you, but I'm proud of how you're handling it. You're being really brave." Kris forced a small smile, grateful for her words even as he felt a lump form in his throat. He didn't feel brave; he felt embarrassed and ashamed. But he didn't want to disappoint his mom, so he nodded, silently agreeing. As his siblings finished breakfast and dispersed to start their day, Kris pushed himself away from the table with a heavy sigh. He knew the routine by now: follow Mom to her room, get changed, and try to put on a brave face for another day. With a reluctant shuffle, Kris trailed after his mom, the weight of his soggy pull-up reminding him of his current reality with each step. His heart sank as he entered her room, feeling the familiar mix of embarrassment and resignation wash over him. Kim turned to him with a gentle smile, her eyes full of warmth and understanding. "Let's get you a change of clothes," she said softly, motioning for him to come closer. Kris hesitated momentarily, the knot of shame tightening in his chest. But he knew there was no use fighting it; the sooner he got changed, the sooner he could enjoy the rest of his day. With a resigned nod, he approached his mom, feeling like a little kid again, as she helped him pick out his clothes for the day and directed him toward their bathroom to get cleaned up. Despite the tenderness of his mom's actions, Kris couldn't shake the lingering sense of humiliation that clung to him. Each moment spent in that room felt like an eternity, a reminder of how different his life had become. Before, he would have loved to have story times; now, with his predicament, this room just meant he was a baby needing to rely on his parents. After changing out of his wet pull-up, Kris left his parents' bedroom, trying to shake off the feelings of embarrassment that still clung to him. He was determined to enjoy the day and joined his siblings for some schoolwork. Kris felt a sense of normalcy as they worked through their lessons. Being homeschooled meant he could focus on his studies without the added pressure of dealing with teasing or judgment from classmates outside of his siblings. He was grateful for this small comfort, even as he struggled with his bedwetting. After finishing their schoolwork, their mom gave them some free time, and Kris decided to relax by watching TV with his siblings. As he sat on the couch, the familiar comfort of their family room surrounding him, Kris felt himself beginning to relax. However, as the afternoon wore on, Kris felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. Despite trying to stay awake, he soon found himself dozing off. As Kris dozed off on the couch, his siblings exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of concern and mischief. "I think he's asleep," Kyle whispered, nudging Tammi with his elbow. Tammi raised an eyebrow. "Should we wake him?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Kyle shrugged, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Nah, let him sleep. The last time he fell asleep, he wet himself. Maybe this time, he'll learn his lesson." Tammi stifled a laugh, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, you're right. It's his fault if he wets himself again." Engrossed in the TV show, Sam was oblivious to their whispered conversation. She sat on the floor, eyes glued to the screen, unaware of her siblings' scheming. A few minutes passed, the room filled with the sound of the TV and Kris's soft snores. Suddenly, Kris jolted awake, a look of panic on his face. He felt warm wetness spreading in his crotch and realized with horror that he was wetting himself. Jumping up from the couch, Kris dashed for the bathroom, his siblings' laughter ringing in his ears. He could feel the wetness soaking through his pants, the shame burning hot on his cheeks. With all his might, Kris ran, hoping to make it to the bathroom in time to finish. Kyle and Tammi watched from the couch, their laughter growing louder as Kris hurried away. Sam, finally noticing the commotion, turned to see Kris's retreating figure, confusion clouding her face. "What's going on?" she asked, looking between Kyle and Tammi. "He wet himself again," Kyle said, barely able to contain his amusement. "Looks like he didn't learn his lesson after all." Tammi giggled, shaking her head. "I can't believe he did it again. What a baby." Sam frowned, feeling a pang of sympathy for Kris. "That's not very nice, guys. It's not his fault." Kyle shrugged. "Maybe not, but it's still funny." Tammi and Kyle exchanged a glance before getting up from the couch and following Kris to the bathroom. They stood outside the door, their whispers barely concealed. "He's such a baby," Tammi muttered, rolling her eyes. Kyle chuckled. "I know, right? How hard is it to control your bladder?" Kris was too late. He stood frozen, a trail of pee leading from the bathroom door, dribbles marking his path to where he stood, a growing puddle forming at his feet. Shame washed over him in waves, his cheeks burning with embarrassment as he heard the mocking voices on the other side of the door. "He must really like the smell of urine because he can't go one day without peeing himself!" Kyle teased from the other side of the door. Tammi bursting into laughter only made Kris feel worse about the situation. Why did they have to follow him over, just to tease him? "I can't believe this is happening again," Kris thought, his heart sinking with each passing moment. He knew the teasing would only intensify now. With a heavy sigh, he forced himself into action, his movements robotic as he hurried to clean up the mess. Grabbing a nearby towel, Kris knelt down, wiping up the puddle on the floor with shaky hands. He felt the weight of his wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to his skin as he worked, the humiliation of the situation nearly suffocating him. With each swipe of the towel, he tried to erase the evidence of his latest accident, but the shame lingered, staining him from within. Once the floor was somewhat dry, Kris turned his attention to himself, hastily wiping his legs dry with the towel before discarding it into a growing pile of wet clothes. Wrapping another towel around his waist, he tried to shield himself from the prying eyes of his family, though he knew it was futile. As he stood there, his heart heavy with embarrassment, Kris couldn't help but wonder when this nightmare would end. Outside, Kim noticed the commotion and walked over, her brow furrowed with concern. "What's going on?" she asked, looking at Tammi and Kyle. Kyle smirked. "The baby had another accident," he said mockingly, earning a stern look from Kim. "Kyle!" she said, exasperated by his attitude. Inside the bathroom, Kris's heart sank. He knew there was no way to hide his accident now. He slowly peeled off the towel, ashamed, and looked down at his pants. They were soaked, the wetness clearly visible. Defeated, Kris opened the bathroom door and stepped out, avoiding eye contact with his family. He knew he had to ask his mom for new clothes. There was no way to hide what had happened. Kim's heart ached with frustration as she saw Kris's situation. She knew how embarrassed he must feel. "Come here," she said gently, leading him away from his siblings. Once they were out of earshot, Kim crouched down to Kris's level, her eyes full of compassion. "It's okay, sweetheart," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him. "Accidents happen, and it doesn't make you any less of a big kid." As Kris stood there, his wet pants clinging uncomfortably to his skin, he couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They streamed down his cheeks as he buried his face in his mom's shoulder, his body shaking with the weight of his emotions. "I-I heard them," Kris choked out between sobs. "Kyle and Tammi... t-they were making fun of me. They called me a baby... they said I liked the smell of urine..." Kim's heart clenched at the pain in her son's voice. She held him tighter, rubbing soothing circles on his back. "Oh, honey," she murmured, her eyes brimming with tears. "I'm so sorry you had to hear that. You're not a baby, sweetheart. You're just going through a tough time, and it's okay to feel upset about it." Kris sniffled, trying to compose himself. "But it hurts, Mom," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "It hurts when they say those things..." Kim nodded understandingly, brushing away his tears. "I know, honey. It's not fair, and it's not right for them to tease you like that. You're being so brave, and I'm proud of you. Don't let their words make you feel small." Feeling a surge of protectiveness, Kim made a mental note to have a serious talk with Kevin about Kyle and Tammi's behavior. No sibling should ever make their brother feel ashamed like this. But for now, Kris needed comfort and reassurance. Kim took a deep breath, holding her son at arm's length so she could look him in the eye. "Listen to me," she said firmly, her voice gentle yet firm. "You are loved, you are valued, and you are not alone in this. We're a family, and we stick together, no matter what. If anyone dares to make fun of you again, they'll answer to me. Understand?" Kris nodded, his eyes wide with gratitude. "Th-thank you," he whispered, his voice quivering with emotion. Kim smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Anytime, sweetheart. I'm here for you, always." Kim held Kris at arm's length for a moment longer. With a tender smile, she gently nudged him toward the direction of her closet, where his clothes were located. "Go on, sweetheart, get changed." she encouraged him softly. Kris disappeared into his parent's master bathroom for the second time that day. Meanwhile, his mom reached for her phone. She dialed Kevin's number, her mind racing with everything that had transpired. He picked up after the second ring, his voice tight with concern. "Hey, what's going on?" "Kev," Kim began, her voice wavering slightly with emotion. "It's about Kris..." She recounted the distressing events that had unfolded, the hurtful words from Kyle and Tammi, and Kris's tearful reaction. Her anger simmered beneath the surface as she relayed the experience and remembered the words from Kris and his tearful little eyes. By the time she finished, there was a heavy silence on the other end of the line. She could almost feel Kevin's frustration radiating through the phone. "That's it," he said finally. "I've had enough of this. Those kids need to learn some respect, and if they won't listen to reason, then they'll learn it the hard way." Kim's heart skipped a beat at the intensity in her husband's voice. She knew he meant business. "What do you want me to do?" she asked. "Tell them," he replied, his tone unwavering. "Tell them that if they dare to make fun of Kris again, about his diaper, about his accidents, by calling him a baby, or anything along those lines. They'll be facing consequences. And not just any consequences – they'll be wearing diapers themselves. Let's see how they like it." Kim felt a surge of relief wash over her at Kevin's words. It was about time someone put their foot down and stood up for Kris. "I'll talk to them," she promised, her voice firm with determination. "They need to understand that this behavior is unacceptable." Chapter 10: You Were Warned Kim took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation she knew she needed to have with her children. With resolve in her heart, she motioned for Kris to join her as she made her way out to the living room. "Kyle, Tammi, Sam," Kim called out, her voice steady but commanding. "Come here, please. We need to talk." The children gathered around. Their mother's serious tone piqued their curiosity. Kyle's eyes widened as he noticed Kris standing beside their mom, a flicker of apprehension crossing his face. "I spoke with dad about what happened." Kim's gaze shifted to Kyle, who squirmed under her gaze. His eyes grew wide, a mixture of nervousness and guilt flashing across his face. He had a sinking feeling that he was about to be in trouble. "I have something important to discuss with all of you," Kim began, her gaze firm as she addressed her children. "We've noticed some behavior towards Kris that is completely unacceptable. Teasing him about his accidents, his diapers—it's hurtful and unfair." Kyle shifted uncomfortably, realizing the gravity of the situation as his mother's words sank in. "Dad and I have decided that enough is enough," Kim continued, her voice unwavering. "Any teasing or making fun of Kris will not be tolerated. And if any of you choose to continue this behavior, there will be consequences." A tense silence filled the room as Kim's words hung in the air. Kris stood beside her, a sense of relief filling him up and refueling his spirit. "Consequences?" Tammi echoed, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Yes," Kim affirmed, her tone resolute. "Your father has made it clear that if any of you continue to tease Kris about his accidents or his diapers, you will be wearing diapers yourselves. It's time to treat your brother with the kindness he deserves." Kyle's eyes widened in disbelief, the weight of his mother's words sinking in. He exchanged a nervous glance with Tammi, realizing that their actions had serious repercussions. "Understood?" Kim asked, her gaze sweeping over her children, her authority unyielding. The siblings nodded solemnly, a newfound understanding dawning on them as they absorbed their mother's words. "Good," Kim said, her voice softening slightly. "Now, I want each of you to return to your studies. We'll discuss this further later." The children nodded, understanding the seriousness of the situation. They dispersed, heading back to the kitchen table to resume their studies. Kim watched them go, a sense of relief washing over her. She hoped that her words had made an impact on them, especially Kyle, who had such a bad habit of embarrassing his younger brother. As the afternoon wore on, the house was filled with the sounds of pencil scratches on paper and the occasional rustle of a textbook page. Kris focused on his work, feeling a sense of ease as his humiliation ended. He knew his siblings' teasing wouldn't stop overnight, but he hoped his parents' intervention would make a difference. After another hour or two of studying, the front door creaked open, and their father's voice filled the house. "I'm home!" Excitedly, the children abandoned their books and rushed to greet their father. Kevin smiled as he was bombarded with hugs and stories about their day. He tousled Kyle's hair and praised Tammi for her progress in math. Sam clung to his leg, chattering away about her drawings. Kim emerged from the kitchen. "Welcome home, dear," she said, kissing Kevin's cheek. "Thanks, honey," Kevin replied, returning her kiss. "Smells like dinner is almost ready." "Just about," Kim confirmed. "Why don't you go wash up? Dinner will be ready soon." Kevin headed to the bathroom to freshen up, and Kim returned to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. The children chatted excitedly at the table while packing their school supplies, eager to tell their father about their day. Once dinner was ready, they all sat down to eat, the atmosphere light and cheerful. Kevin listened intently as the children recounted their day. Kris felt a sense of peace settle over him as he sat with his family, grateful for the love and support of his parents. As they finished eating, the clinking of utensils against plates gradually subsided, and a comfortable silence settled over the family. Kevin leaned back in his chair, a contented smile gracing his lips as he watched his children chat animatedly about their day. However, amidst the jovial atmosphere, he couldn't shake off the nagging concern that he had to address the incident from earlier. "You know, kids," Kevin began, his tone casual yet tinged with seriousness, "I overheard something earlier today." The room grew quiet as all eyes turned to Kevin, curiosity etched on their faces. Kris's heart skipped a beat, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his cheeks as he realized what his father was about to address. He had hoped his accident earlier would go unnoticed by his dad, but it seemed that wasn't the case. Kevin's gaze swept over his children, his expression solemn. "It seems that some of you were picking on Kris earlier," he continued, his voice steady but firm. "Making fun of him for wetting his pants." A heavy silence descended upon the room, punctuated only by the faint hum of the refrigerator. Kris's cheeks burned with embarrassment, his gaze fixed on the tabletop as he avoided his father's penetrating stare. He hadn't expected his dad to find out about his accident, let alone address it in front of the entire family. Kevin's eyes softened as he observed Kris's discomfort, a pang of guilt tugging at his heart. He hated seeing his son squirm, knowing that he bore some responsibility for Kris's predicament. Kevin cleared his throat, his tone gentle yet authoritative. "I want to make something very clear," he began, his gaze shifting between his children. "Teasing Kris about his diapers, his bedwetting, having an accident, or anything like that is completely unacceptable." The children listened intently, their expressions a mix of guilt and understanding. "As a consequence," he continued, his voice firm, "if I hear of any more teasing or making fun of Kris, the offender will also be wearing a diaper. Is that understood?" The children nodded, their earlier joviality replaced by a sense of seriousness and respect. "Good," Kevin said, his tone softening. "Now, let's all pitch in and get everything cleaned up from dinner. We've got a movie to watch tonight." As the kids cleaned up the table and the dishes from dinner, Kevin headed to the living room to set up a movie for them all to watch. He rummaged through the movie collection, finally settling on "Spy Kids," a family favorite. In no time, the living room was filled with laughter and excitement as the kids gathered around the TV. They squabbled playfully over who would sit where eventually finding their spots on the couch or sprawled out on the floor. Kevin dimmed the lights, setting the perfect ambiance for a cozy movie night. As the opening credits of "Spy Kids" began to roll, the room was alive with chatter and anticipation. The kids traded playful jabs and teasing remarks, their earlier tension forgotten in the excitement of the movie. Kris felt a sense of relief wash over him as he settled in beside his siblings, grateful for the chance just to be a kid again. The movie played on, and the kids were soon swept up in the action-packed adventures of Juni and Carmen Cortez. They cheered and gasped at all the right moments, their laughter ringing through the room. However, in the scene where Juni calls Carmen a "diaper lady," Kyle makes a fateful mistake. In the midst of their playful banter, he turned to Kris with a mischievous grin and said, "I guess that makes you Carmen, huh Kris?" The room fell silent as Kyle's words hung in the air, the playful atmosphere evaporating in an instant. Kris felt his stomach clench with embarrassment and hurt, his cheeks flushing crimson as all eyes turned to him. Kevin's expression darkened as he glanced between his children, a stern frown marring his features. He had hoped that their earlier conversation would have made an impact, but it seemed that Kyle still had a long way to go in understanding the gravity of his words. "Kyle," Kevin said, his voice low and authoritative. Kyle's grin faltered, his earlier bravado replaced by a look of sheepishness. He glanced down at his lap, suddenly finding the rug pattern incredibly fascinating. "I'm sorry," Kyle mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. Kris met his brother's gaze, seeing the genuine remorse shining in his eyes. Despite the hurtful words, he knew Kyle didn't mean any harm. With a small nod, Kris offered his forgiveness. Kevin sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to diffuse the tension in the room. "Let's just focus on the movie, okay?" he suggested, his tone gentle yet firm. The kids nodded, their earlier enthusiasm dampened but not extinguished. With a collective effort, they turned their attention back to the TV, immersing themselves once more in the world of "Spy Kids." As the end credits of "Spy Kids" rolled, the room was filled with a somber silence. The kids sat in muted contemplation, the earlier excitement of the movie night now overshadowed by the tension that lingered in the air. Kevin watched his children. His thoughts were weighed down by the realization that his threat hadn't sunken in yet. He knew he needed to address the situation before it escalated further. Sighing, he rose from his seat and motioned for Kyle to follow him. "Kyle, I need to talk to you for a moment," Kevin said, his tone gentle yet firm. Kyle nodded, his expression wary as he followed his father out of the living room and into the hallway. "Listen," Kevin began, his voice low but stern. "I need to talk to you about what happened." Kyle's brow furrowed in confusion, a hint of apprehension creeping into his features. "What do you mean?" "I mean your behavior towards Kris," Kevin clarified, his gaze unwavering. "Teasing him about his accidents and diapers is not okay. Your mom and I have made it clear that this kind of behavior will not be tolerated." Kyle shifted uncomfortably, a sense of guilt gnawing at him. He hadn't realized the impact of his words until now, seeing the disappointment in his father's eyes. "I'm sorry," Kyle said, his voice tinged with regret. "I didn't mean to hurt Kris. It was just a joke, you know?" Kevin sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I understand that, but thinking about how your words can affect others is important. Kris has been through a tough time, and he needs our support, not our teasing." Kyle nodded, his expression contrite. "I get it. I won't tease him anymore, I promise." "I'm glad to hear that," Kevin said, his tone softening. "But there's something else we need to address. As a consequence of your behavior, you'll wear one of Kris's pull-ups to bed tonight." Kyle's eyes widened in disbelief, a mixture of shock and embarrassment crossing his face. "What? But Dad, it was just a joke! He's fine!" Kevin shook his head, his tone firm. "I'm sorry, dude, but we must follow through. You need to understand the seriousness of your actions. I can't let you just get away with it. What would be the point in that, after what we just talked about at dinner?" Kyle reluctantly nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. They head back out to the living room, where Kevin instructs the kids to get ready for bed. The girls went upstairs while Kris headed toward their parents' room to get a pull-up and his pajamas for the night. Kris notices Kyle following him, which makes him feel a little uncomfortable. Kyle doesn't say anything as they wait for their parents in their parents' room. Kris looks at Kyle, unsure of what to say. He knows his brother is probably feeling embarrassed about having to wear a pull-up to bed, but Kris can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction, knowing that Kyle is finally getting a taste of his own medicine. As Kris and Kyle wait in their parents' room, Kris feels a mix of emotions swirling inside him—relief that his parents are taking action against the teasing, the satisfaction that Kyle is finally facing the consequences, but also a twinge of envy that Kyle seems to be treated with more dignity at this moment. His thoughts are interrupted when he notices his mom grabbing two pull-ups from the package and handing one to each of them. Kris's surprise lingers as he takes the pull-up from his mom's hand, his eyes flickering between the diaper in his hand and the one in Kyle's. Before Kris could dwell on his thoughts, his mom interrupted, handing him some pajamas and ushering him off to get changed in their master bathroom. As Kris heads towards the bathroom, he hears his mom's voice directed at Kyle. "Go put it on and go to bed," she instructs her tone firm but not unkind. "You better wear it. I'm trusting you to be responsible. If you're not, there will be worse trouble." Kris can't help but feel a pang of envy as he listens to his mom's words. Despite the embarrassing situation, Kyle is being treated with a level of trust and responsibility that Kris hasn't experienced. It stirs up conflicting emotions within him—on the one hand, he's glad that Kyle is finally facing the consequences for his teasing, but on the other hand, he can't shake off the unfairness of the situation. As Kris changes into his pajamas and pulls on the pull-up, he can't help but wonder how this night will unfold. Will Kyle wear the pull-up to bed? Will their parents follow through with the consequences if he doesn't? And most importantly, will this finally end the teasing once and for all? Chapter 11: This is Unfair As Kris entered the bedroom, he found Kyle already in bed, engrossed in a book. Kris paused, unsure of how to proceed. He glanced at his brother, who looked up from his book, meeting Kris's gaze with a glare. "What?" Kyle snapped, his tone defensive. Kris hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He felt a mix of emotions—anger, hurt, and a lingering sense of satisfaction at Kyle's predicament. He knew he should probably let it go, but the resentment he felt towards his brother was hard to shake. "Nothing," Kris muttered, avoiding Kyle's gaze as he changed into his pajamas. Kyle watched him, his expression unreadable. Kris could sense the tension between them, the unspoken words hanging in the air. He knew he probably shouldn't say anything but was so tempted to. Kris cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence. "So, uh, how well does the pull-up fit?" he asked, his tone casual but with an underlying tension, wanting to confirm his brother was actually wearing it. Kyle stiffened, his eyes narrowing. "What do you care?" he retorted, his voice tinged with defensiveness. "I was just wondering," Kris replied, trying to keep his tone light. "I mean, it must be pretty uncomfortable, right?" Kyle's voice followed as Kris climbed up the ladder to his bunk bed. "You know, it's a little small. Must be because of all the extra padding they had to use for babies like you." Kris gritted his teeth, his hands tightening on the rungs of the ladder. "Shut up! It's not funny. If anything, it's because of your fat butt." Kyle's laughter echoed in the room. "You're such a baby. Always crying about everything." Frustration bubbled up inside Kris. "At least I don't tattle to Mom and Dad every time you do something wrong, like you do!" Kyle's face darkened, and for a moment, Kris thought he had gone too far. But then Kyle smirked. "Yeah, but at least I don't wet the bed like a toddler." Kris tried to think of a rebuttal, but Kyle wasn't finished. "I can't believe I have to share a room with a baby," he muttered. Kris took a deep breath, trying to control his rising anger. "At least I'm not a slob, like you." he shot back, unable to resist the jab. Kyle fell silent momentarily, and Kris thought he had finally gotten through to him. But then Kyle's voice came again, softer this time. "I'm sorry," he said, his tone surprisingly sincere. "I shouldn't have picked on you as much as I have been." Kris was taken aback by the apology. He hadn't expected it, especially not from Kyle. "It's okay," he replied after a moment, his anger dissipating. "I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have called you fat or a slob." They lay in silence for a few moments, their tension easing. Finally, Kyle spoke again, his voice barely a whisper. "Goodnight." "Goodnight," Kris replied, feeling a sense of peace settle over him as he hopped things changed for the better. As Kris lay in his bed on the top bunk, the events of the day played over and over in his mind like a relentless loop. He couldn't shake off the tension that had built up between him and Kyle, even after their brief truce. The next few nights were just as difficult for Kris. Sure, he managed to get away from anyone teasing him during the day. But his mind was reeling, tumbling with questions that only added to frustration after frustration. How long would that last? Why hadn't Tammi tried to pick on him? Was it because Kyle got in trouble? Did she even know about that? Would Kyle keep his word and lay off the teasing, or was this just a temporary ceasefire before the next round of mockery? And what about Dad's threat to diaper anyone who made fun of Kris? Would he follow through past the one instance with Kyle, or was it just an empty promise meant to scare them into behaving? Unable to sleep, Kris tossed and turned in his bed, night after night, his mind consumed with thoughts of how unfair everything seemed. He couldn't shake off the feeling of injustice within him. Why was he always the one who got called out in front of everyone? Why is it that when Kyle was called out, it was to the side where no one could hear? His sisters probably didn't even know Kyle was in a diaper! Why couldn't Kris have his clothes and the dignity to pick his own outfits? Instead, his parents stowed them away and chose for him. Deciding what he would wear, and when he could get changed. They wouldn't even extend enough trust to let him get changed in his own room, or the shared bathroom, making him use their master bathroom each time. Waiting, on the other side of the door to ensure he was listening to them. Just another nail in the coffin of his dependence on them. He thought back to how his parents had handled the situation with Kyle the night he was diapered. Replaying the events in his head multiple times. They had pulled Kyle aside after he broke their rule about teasing Kris. Kris couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. He didn't even know Kyle was getting diapered that night until he followed him to his parent's bedroom and got handed a pull-up. Why didn't he get the same level of consideration and trust from his parents? Why did Kyle seem to get special treatment? Kris's frustration grew as he dwelled on these thoughts. He resented asking for new pants and underwear every day, knowing none of his other siblings would have to deal with the same humiliation. He hated having to sit in his wet diaper first thing in the morning, feeling the discomfort and shame gnawing at him, just waiting for his parents to finally give him the dignity he deserved. Kris felt his spirit deflate as he woke up each morning in a wet pull-up. The discomfort and shame gnawed at him, a continual reminder of his situation. He couldn't help but think back to the one morning he woke up and found his pull-up had leaked. The embarrassment and humiliation flooded back as he recalled the wet sheets and the disappointed look on his mother's face. He wanted so badly to hide it from everyone, but in the end, he knew he stood no chance with all his clothes downstairs in his parent's room. He felt like he was failing. His parents tried to be understanding, but Kris could see the disappointment in their eyes. He knew they were trying to help him, but their attempts only made him feel more inadequate. He resented relying on them for everything, from changing in the morning to choosing his clothes for the day. He longed for the independence he once had, the freedom to be himself without fear of judgment or ridicule. Amidst the turmoil of his thoughts, a glimmer of hope flickered to life. Maybe, just maybe, things would get better. Maybe Kyle would keep his word, Dad would enforce his ultimatum, and Kris could finally find indifference to his situation. However, nothing over these last several days had pushed anyone to the point of needing to be punished with his dad's threat. As the days dragged on, Kris knew the likelihood of his dad keeping with what he said and punishing those who teased him grew less and less likely. Chapter 12: Packing List Two weeks had passed since the incident that changed everything for Kris. In that time, he had grown accustomed to his nightly routine of wearing diapers to bed, though the discomfort and embarrassment still lingered. Waking up in a wet pull-up every morning made him feel so small. It was as if he was a toddler who couldn't control themselves. Needing to wait until after breakfast before he could get changed only added to his humiliation. What was the point in that anyway? At least the one morning when his pull-up had leaked, and he had to come down in wet pants, he could change before they ate breakfast. All of that was behind him now. Now they were packing for Disney World! There was nothing that could ruin it for him. Except, as Kris stood before his dresser, sorting through his clothes for the trip, Kris couldn't help but feel belittled yet again that he needed to ask for his clothes so he could make sure they were packed. As Kris approaches his parents to ask for his clothes, he feels a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach. Hesitating at their bedroom doorway, trying to summon the courage to speak up. Finally, he clears his throat and steps forward. "Mom, Dad," Kris begins, his voice barely above a whisper. "Um, can I have my clothes back? I need to pack for the trip." Kim looks up from where she's folding laundry, her expression softening at the sight of her son. "Of course, sweetheart," she says gently. "They're in the closet. Grab whatever you need." Kris nods, relief flooding through him as he heads toward the closet. But just as he reaches for his clothes, Kevin interjects, his tone tinged with frustration. "Before you pack, I want you to take this," Kevin says, holding out a pack of pull-ups. "You need to bring these with you." Kris's heart sinks as he takes the pack from his dad. He had hoped to avoid this situation. "Do I have to?" Kris asks, trying to keep his voice steady. Kevin sighs, his frustration evident. "You know you do. We can't risk any accidents during the trip. Just take them and pack them in your suitcase." Feeling defeated, Kris takes the pack of pull-ups and his clothes back to his room to pack. He's grateful his parents are trusting him for a change to do something on his own, like packing for the trip. If someone else were doing it, he would be mortified to see what was packed once they arrived. But at least this way, he knows he'll have clothes he likes and actual underwear to wear during the day. As he re-enters the room, Kyle notices the pack of pull-ups in Kris's hand. "What's that?" Kyle asks, a smirk forming on his face. "Are those diapers for the baby?" Kris feels his face flush with embarrassment as he sets the package on his bed. "No, they're pull-ups, and they're for me," he mumbles while avoiding Kyle's gaze. "For you?" Kyle laughs, his voice dripping with mockery. "You're going to wear diapers to Disney World? That's so lame!" "It's not like I want to wear them!" Kris retorts, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "I have to wear them because of you!" "Because of me?" Kyle scoffs. "How is this my fault?" "If you hadn't told Dad about my accident, I wouldn't need these pull-up!" Kris snaps, his anger flaring. Kyle's smirk fades, replaced by a look of guilt. "I didn't think you'd end up in diapers," he says quietly. "Well, I did," Kris replies, tears filling his eyes. "And it's not fair!" "Hey, the good news is you should fly for free now, being a baby, after all." Kyle's attempt at humor fell flat as Kris's expression hardened. Kyle's attempt at humor cuts deep, his words twisting the knife of Kris's raw emotions. Feeling a surge of anger and hurt, his words began tumbling out before he could stop them. "You're just jealous because you don't get the attention anymore! You're nothing but a stupid, selfish bully!" Kyle's face contorts with shock and anger. "I'm the bully?" he shouts, hurt evident in his voice. "You're the one who's always crying and making everything about you! You're such a baby!" Kris's hand trembles with anger as he balls it into a fist. Mad that his brother kept calling him a baby. Figures Kris was right to suspect that his brother wouldn't keep his word. Without thinking, he swings, connecting with his brother's arm. Kyle winces, more from surprise than pain, as his words echo in the tense silence. "I'm not a baby!" Kris shouts, tears streaking down his cheeks. "I hate you!" Without another word, Kris turned and stormed out of their room. Stunned by his brother's actions, Kyle lets what just occurred sink in, and shock quickly turns to anger. "How dare he hit him!? How could he even begin to blame him for the predicament he's in? He is acting like a toddler throwing a tantrum! I bet he is going to go tattle on me, to try and get me in a stupid diaper again! I'll show him! If he wants to get me to wear a diaper, I'll make him wear them the whole trip. Show him who the baby really is!" Kyle thinks to himself. Fueled by anger, Kyle storms over to his brother's suitcase and unzips it. Without hesitation, he removes all of Kris's underwear. Tucking them under the bottom drawer of their dresser, knowing full well no one would find them until returning from Disney World. In his mind, Kris deserves this. He deserves to be treated like a baby since he can't act any better than a dramatic toddler. Kyle's anger simmers as he carries out his plan with cold determination. He takes Kris's suitcase downstairs, carefully concealing his actions from the rest of the family. With a sense of vindication, he hands the suitcase to his dad, who loads it into the car without suspecting a thing. Meanwhile, Instead of tattling on his brother, Kris opted to sit in the car playing on his handheld gaming console. He feared retaliation from his brother and getting tattled on himself for hitting his brother. Which he knew his parents found unacceptable, no matter what the reason was. Wanting to drown out the world, Kris sat there with his headphones firmly in place, attempting to block out the family, not wanting to get teased by anyone else or cause any more arguments. He was completely unaware of Kyle's schemes, forgetting about his suitcase entirely. Kim notices Kris is in the car, absorbed in his handheld, and taps on the window to get his attention. Kris, startled, looks up and removes his headphones. "Hey, bud," Kim says gently, "are you wearing a diaper?" Kris's cheeks flush crimson, embarrassment overwhelming him at his mom's question. He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding her gaze. "Um, no," he mumbles, his voice barely audible. Kim nods understandingly. "I think putting one on for the flight would be a good idea. It's going to be long, and you might fall asleep. We don't want any accidents, do we?" Kris shakes his head, his embarrassment deepening. "No, we don't," he replies, sounding slightly defeated, as his self-esteem deflates slightly. Kris's cheeks burn with embarrassment as he shifts in his seat, avoiding his mom's gaze. "But, Mom," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, "I don't want to wear a pull-up on the plane. Can't I just use the bathroom before we board?" Kim's expression softens as she gently squeezes Kris's hand. "I know this is hard for you, honey," she says softly, "but it's just for the flight. We don't want any accidents to happen, especially so high up in the air. Where you can't get to a clean pair of clothes, no less. Please, for me?" "I...I already packed the pull-ups," Kris says, his voice barely above a whisper. "They're in my suitcase. I think I may have left it in my room." He glances back toward the trunk of the car, where their suitcases are neatly packed away. To his surprise, he sees his own suitcase already nestled among the others, the zipper securely closed. "Actually," Kris says, his brow furrowing in confusion, "my suitcase is already in the car." Kim nods, her expression sympathetic. "I understand. That was a new pack, we still have an open one in our room." Offering him a reassuring smile before motioning for him to follow her. "Come on, let's go get one for you." Kris nods, his heart heavy with embarrassment and frustration. He reluctantly follows his mom back into the house, wishing he didn't need to wear it. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to protest further, to run back to the car and ignore his mother's pleas, but there was nothing he could do. No one at this point would side with him, not with as many accidents he has had. Even a short nap wasn't safe from wetting himself. As they entered his parent's room, Kris couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the sight of the open package of diapers sitting on top of their dresser. He hates the reminder of his vulnerability, the constant need for protection from something as basic as using the bathroom on time. Kim reaches for a diaper, her touch gentle as she holds it out to Kris. "Here you go, sweetheart," she says softly. "I know it's not easy, but it's just for the flight." Kris takes the pull-up from his mom, his fingers trembling slightly as he holds it. With a heavy sigh, he heads toward the master bathroom, his heart sinking with each step. He hates this feeling of helplessness and inability to control his body. Entering the bathroom, Kris closes the door, shutting out the world outside. He stands in front of the mirror, his reflection staring back at him with resignation and frustration. With shaky hands, he begins to undress, peeling off his pants and underwear. He hesitates as he reaches for the pull-up, his fingers hovering over the soft material. He didn't want to wear this on the plane. But what choice does he have? He can't risk having an accident on the plane, and he can't risk further embarrassment in front of his family, let alone strangers! With a heavy heart, Kris finally gathers the courage to put on the pull-up, sliding it up his legs and securing it in place. The familiar feeling of shame washes over him as he adjusts the pull-up, the crinkling sound echoing loudly in the silence of the bathroom. Once the pull-up is on, Kris takes a deep breath, trying to steel himself for what lies ahead. He knows this won't be easy, knows he'll have to face the mocking stares and whispered taunts of his siblings on the plane. But he also knows he has to do this. With one last glance in the mirror, Kris pulls back up his pants, opens the bathroom door, and steps out to meet his mom. As Kris exits the master bathroom, Kim notices the slight outline around his waistline, indicating the diaper underneath his pants. Concern etches across her face, but she approaches the situation delicately. "Kris, sweetie, are you wearing the diaper?" Kim asks gently, her voice laced with empathy. Kris's cheeks flush with embarrassment as he nods sheepishly, unable to meet his mother's gaze. He feels humiliated at the thought of his mom asking, as if she did not believe he would put it on. "Um, yeah," he mumbles, his voice barely audible. Kim's heart aches for her son, seeing the turmoil he's going through. Wanting to help ease his discomfort, she gestures for him to come closer. With a reassuring smile, she kneels down in front of him, her hands instinctively reaching for the waistband of his pants. "Let me adjust your pants a bit, sweetie," Kim says softly, her touch gentle as she tries to conceal the outline of the diaper discreetly. Kris feels a mixture of mortification and gratitude as his mom tries to help him, not realizing her actions only intensify his embarrassment. He stands frozen, his cheeks burning with shame as he watches his mom's futile attempts to hide the pull-up. Despite Kim's efforts, the diaper remains noticeable beneath Kris's pants, a constant reminder of his vulnerability. Kris's stomach churns with unease, wishing he could disappear into thin air and escape. Sensing Kris's discomfort, she offers him a gentle smile. "There, that's better," she says reassuringly, though she knows it's not. Kris forces a weak smile, his heart heavy with humiliation. "Thanks, Mom," he murmurs, his voice tinged with resignation and defeat. Kim rises to her feet, her heart heavy with worry for her son. She wishes she could take away his pain and make everything better, but she knows it's not that simple. All she can do is offer him love and support as he navigates this challenging journey. With a gentle pat on Kris's shoulder, Kim leads him out of the bedroom and back toward the car, determined to make the best of their Disney World trip despite his problem. As Kris and his mom walk out to the car, Kris can't help but notice the crinkling sound with each step. He can sense his siblings' eyes on him, their silent judgment hanging heavy in the air. Kris's face burns with embarrassment as he climbs into his booster seat, the outline of his pull-up visible through his pants. Without a word, everyone else piles into the car. As the car pulls from the driveway, Kris tries to focus on the passing scenery, but his mind is consumed with thoughts of his pull-up and what his siblings must be thinking. He can't shake the feeling of shame that continues to wash over him, battering him like the constant waves on the shore, a continuous reminder of his bedwetting problems. In the front seat, Kim glances back at Kris, her heart breaking at seeing her son's distress. Feeling his isolation and exposure, his secret now on display for everyone to see. The car ride is tense, the atmosphere thick with unspoken drama. Kris's siblings exchange knowing glances, their eyes lingering on Kris with amusement. Kris tried to shrink into his seat, wishing he could disappear, hoping no one else would bring attention to his problem. Finally, they arrive at the airport, and Kris's anxiety reaches a peak. He knows he'll have to pass through security, where his pull-up may likely be detected by the scanners. The thought fills him with dread, and he can feel the panic rising. Chapter 13: First Flight Kris's excitement for the upcoming trip to Disney World was evident as he stood in line with his family at the airport check-in counter. The vibrant colors of the terminal buzzed around him, and he bounced on the balls of his feet, unable to contain his anticipation. Today was the day they were finally going on their adventure. His parents stood in front of him, their voices filled with cheerful chatter as they conversed with the airline attendant. Behind them, Tammi and Sam whispered excitedly to each other, their eyes wide with wonder at the prospect of meeting their favorite characters. But amid the hustle and bustle of the airport, Kris couldn't shake the gnawing feeling of unease in the pit of his stomach. It wasn't just the nerves of flying for the first time or the thrill of visiting the happiest place on earth that made him fidgety. No, it was something else entirely. As his parents handed over their suitcases to be checked in, Kris glanced around anxiously, searching for something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Then it hit him. He needs to go through security. While his parents handed over their suitcases, Kris couldn't help but notice the security checkpoint nearby. People were going through the scanner, and some were being moved to the side for a pat-down. A shiver ran down Kris's spine as he imagined himself in that position, worried that they might notice his diaper. He glanced around anxiously, hoping no one would pay attention to him. His heart raced as he tried to keep calm, but the fear of being embarrassed in front of so many people gnawed at him. 'Kris, is everything okay?' his mother's voice brought him back to reality. 'Yeah, yeah, I'm fine,' Kris replied quickly, forcing a smile. As they approached the security checkpoint, Kris's heart pounded like a drum in his chest, each beat echoing louder in his ears. He watched his family members pass through the scanner ahead of him, each seemingly carefree and unaware of the storm raging within him. Relief floods through Kris when he realizes they don't have any carry-on bags to be inspected—no diapers to be revealed. Still, the fear of getting caught wearing a diaper lingers in the back of his mind. As they inch closer to the security scanner, Kris's palms grow clammy, and he swallows hard, trying to quell the rising panic. His eyes dart around nervously, half-expecting someone to notice the telltale bulkiness of his diaper beneath his clothes. Finally, it was his turn. Kris stepped forward, his legs feeling like jelly beneath him, and he raised his trembling hands above his head as instructed. The scanner beeped, and his heart skipped a beat. A security officer motioned for him to step aside for further screening, and Kris's stomach churned with dread. Kris followed the officer to the side, feeling like all eyes were on him. His cheeks burned with humiliation as he realized what was happening. The security officer began a gentle but thorough pat-down, his gloved hands brushing against Kris's diaper with a feather-light touch. Kris closed his eyes, trying to block out the sensation of exposure and vulnerability. He wished he could disappear, vanish into thin air, and escape this moment of mortification. The TSA agent's soothing voice offered little comfort as he explained each step of the procedure, but Kris was too embarrassed to truly listen. Through half-closed eyes, Kris stole a glance at his family. They stood on the other side of the security checkpoint, waiting patiently, or so it seemed. He could see the subtle curve of his sibling's lips that barely contained laughter dancing in their eyes. They were snickering! The realization hit Kris like a sledgehammer to the gut. They knew. They all knew about his diaper, about his shameful secret. His cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of crimson, and he fought back the sting of tears threatening to spill. The TSA agent's voice broke through Kris's thoughts, pulling him back to the present. "All set, buddy. You did great," the agent said with a reassuring smile. Kris blinked, surprised by the agent's kind words. He glanced at his family, expecting to see mocking smiles or looks of pity, but instead, he saw genuine smiles of encouragement. Even Kyle's usual smirk was replaced by a nod of approval. Finally, the pat-down was over, and Kris could rejoin his family. Feeling relief, Kris managed a weak smile and thanked the TSA agent before hurrying to catch up with his family. As he joined them, his mother enveloped him in a warm hug. 'You did amazing,' she whispered, squeezing him tight. He was still embarrassed that he had to go through that but grateful he didn't get exposed in such a public place. Astonishment hit Kris as they gathered their things and walked to their gate. No one said a word about the incident. His parents were encouraging, Acting like it was no big deal. Even his siblings, who had been giggling just moments before, now wore masks of innocence, their laughter silenced. Kris couldn't understand it. How could they know and yet say nothing? Were they playing some cruel joke on him, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce? Or were they simply too wrapped up in their own excitement for the trip to notice? As the family made their way to the gate, Kris couldn't shake the unease lingering from the security checkpoint. His bladder felt slightly full, but he resisted the urge to use the airport restroom until they got where they needed to go. Since an unpleasant encounter in a public bathroom when he was younger, Kris avoided using them whenever possible. He preferred to wait until he got home or to a familiar place where he felt more comfortable. However, as they reached their gate, Kris realized he couldn't hold it for the whole flight. He tugged at his dad's sleeve, trying to get his attention. "Dad, I need to use the restroom," Kris whispered, hoping his family wouldn't overhear. Kevin glanced down at him. "Sure. Let's go." Kris followed his dad to the nearest restroom, his heart pounding with anxiety. The memories of past taunts and jeers echoed in his mind, making him hesitant to enter. But he knew he had no choice. Taking a deep breath, Kris entered the restroom, his dad waiting just outside. He quickly found an empty stall and locked the door, grateful for its privacy. As he relieved himself, he tried to push aside the memories and focus on the present. As he finished and stepped out of the stall, he noticed a line of guys waiting for their turn. Kris felt a pang of embarrassment, realizing he had taken up a stall when others were waiting. He hurried over to the sink, avoiding eye contact with anyone in line. As Kris hurriedly washed his hands at the sink, trying to avoid eye contact with the line of guys waiting for stalls, he felt the weight of anxiety pressing down on him like a lead blanket. His heart raced as he fumbled with the soap dispenser, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. Out of the corner of his eye, Kris caught a glimpse of movement and glanced up at the mirror. His breath caught in his throat as he saw a boy in line, about the same age as Kyle, pointing in his direction, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement. Panic surged through Kris like an electric shock, sending shivers down his spine. He quickly averted his gaze, cheeks burning with embarrassment as he realized his pull-up was visible to everyone behind him. How could he have been so careless? Frantically, Kris tugged at the hem of his shirt, getting it wet from the hands he was washing, trying to cover up the telltale bulge of his diaper. But it was too late. The damage had been done, and he could feel the weight of their stares bearing down on him like a heavy burden. Feeling exposed and vulnerable, Kris's hands trembled as he reached for a paper towel to dry them. Each movement felt like an eternity; his senses heightened and on edge. He couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, scrutinized for his perceived weakness and shame. As he finally finished drying his hands, Kris dared to steal another glance at the mirror. The boy in line was still staring at him, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Kris's stomach churned with a mixture of humiliation and resentment. As Kris rushed out of the bathroom, his heart still pounding with embarrassment, he found his dad waiting for him just outside, a reassuring smile on his face. "Good, bud?" his dad asks, concern evident in his tone. Kris nods quickly, forcing a smile to mask his discomfort. "Yeah, I'm good," he mumbles, avoiding his dad's gaze. Together, they return to the gate where the rest of the family awaits. Kris sits next to Tammi, his fingers tapping nervously on the armrest as he tries to distract himself from the lingering embarrassment. Pulling out his handheld console, Kris immerses himself in the digital world, his mind seeking solace in the familiar sights and sounds of his favorite game. But even as he loses himself in the virtual adventure, he can't shake the memory of the boy in the restroom; the mocking smirk etched in his mind like a scar. Minutes pass in a blur as Kris tries to lose himself in the game, but a sudden screech of laughter catches his attention. He looks up to see the same boy from the restroom sitting just a few seats away with his family. The boy is engaged in animated conversation with his siblings, his laughter ringing out loud and clear in the bustling terminal. Each of them looks shocked and amused, their eyes darting from their brother to Kris and back with barely concealed amusement but concern from getting caught looking at him. Panic grips Kris's chest as he assumes the worst, his mind racing with thoughts of ridicule and mockery. But before he can dwell on it any further, an announcement blares over the PA system, signaling that it's time to board the plane. As Kris and his family line up to board the plane, his heart sinks a little as he sees the other boy and his family getting up to board the same plane. He tries to keep his head down, hoping to avoid further embarrassment. As they make their way down the narrow aisle of the plane, he can't help but feel self-conscious, hoping no one else will notice his diaper. He quickly finds his seat and settles in, trying to focus on the excitement of the trip rather than his embarrassment. He watches out of the corner of his eye as the other family passes by; the boy seems oblivious to him, then suddenly does a double take, shooting him a smirk as he passes. Kris felt a knot form in his stomach, but he brushed it off. He knows he can't let this random boy's thoughts ruin his trip. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and tries to relax as the plane prepares for takeoff. Chapter 14: Trouble at 30k Feet The steady hum of the airplane engines filled the cabin as Kris settled into his seat, trying to push aside the lingering embarrassment from the restroom incident. He glanced out of the window from his middle seat, watching as the ground gradually fell away beneath them, feeling the G-forces for the first time, noting the weird sensations across his body. As the plane rose higher and higher, he could feel the air shift and the odd sensations easing up as the vast expanse of the blue sky came into sight. Beside him, in the aisle seat, his mother sat, her comforting presence a soothing calm to his nerves. She smiled reassuringly at him, her eyes filled with warmth. Kris couldn't help but feel grateful for her support, even if she was the one who suggested he wear a diaper while on the flight. He could feel the plane leveling out a few minutes in as they reached cruising altitude. The seat belt sign came off, notifying passengers that they were free to move about. Bored, Kris pulled out his handheld to help pass the time, and Kyle, who sat to his right with the window seat, did the same. After an hour or two of flying, Kris started to feel thirsty. He turned to his mom and asked, "Mom, do we have anything to drink?" Kim glanced at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, bud, we didn't bring any drinks with us. But I think the flight attendants will be coming around soon with beverages. You can ask them for something to drink." Sure enough, the flight attendants began their rounds a few moments later, pushing their carts down the narrow aisle. Kris waited patiently for them to reach his row, feeling excited. When the cart finally arrived, a flight attendant looked over to their row, her smile bright and welcoming. 'Would you like something to drink?' she asked, cheerful. Kris nodded eagerly. "Can I have an apple juice, please?" Kim signaled to the flight attendant, who nodded and reached for a chilled bottle of apple juice from the cart. She poured a generous amount into a plastic cup before handing it to Kris with a warm smile. "Here you go, sweetie. Enjoy," she said kindly before moving on to the next row of seats. Kris accepted the cup gratefully, taking a sip of the cool, refreshing liquid. As he sipped on the refreshing drink, Kris tried to focus on the excitement of the trip and push aside the embarrassment of wearing a diaper. He glanced out of the window again, over Kyle's console, marveling at the vastness of the sky and the beauty of the world below. Despite everything, he was determined to make the most of this experience and enjoy every moment of their family vacation. Kris continued to sip his apple juice and play his game. He gradually lost track of time, engrossed in the digital world unfolding on the screen in front of him. An hour passed in a blur of animated characters and bright colors, the steady drone of the airplane engines fading into the background. But as another hour ticked by, Kris felt pressure starting to build up in his lower abdomen. It was a familiar feeling he had experienced many times before—a sign that he needed to use the restroom. Kris took another sip of his apple juice, trying to distract himself from the growing discomfort in his abdomen. He glanced at his mom, who was engrossed in a magazine and hesitated before speaking up. "Mom, how much longer until we land?" he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Kim glanced at her watch before looking back at Kris. "About an hour and a half, honey. Why? Do you need to use the restroom?" Kris felt a wave of panic wash over him. He knew he should probably use the restroom, but the thought of walking down the narrow aisle in his diaper filled him with dread. He shook his head, forcing a smile. "No, I'm okay. I can wait." Kim raised an eyebrow but didn't press the issue. "Alright, just let me know if you change your mind." Kris nodded, turning his attention back to his handheld. He tried to focus on the game he was playing, but the pressure in his abdomen was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, but it was useless. Kris's discomfort grew as the minutes ticked by, but he was determined not to use the restroom. He glanced at his siblings, who were all engrossed in their own activities, unaware of his predicament. He felt a pang of envy, wishing he could be carefree like them. As the captain's voice crackled over the intercom, announcing they would begin their descent shortly, Kris felt relief, knowing they would be landing soon. He glanced out of the window, noticing the change in altitude as the plane started its gradual descent. But as the plane descended, Kris felt the pressure in his abdomen intensify. He tried to ignore it, focusing on the game in his hands, but the discomfort was becoming unbearable. As the pressure in his abdomen continued to mount, Kris's anxiety heightened. He clenched his teeth, determined to hold on until they landed. But with each passing minute, the discomfort grew more unbearable. He shifted in his seat, trying to alleviate the pressure, but it only seemed to worsen. "M-Mom," Kris stammered, his voice shaky with desperation. "H-How long until we land?" Kim glanced at him, concern etching her features as she noticed his distress. "Not long, honey. Just a few more minutes." "C-Can I please get up to use the restroom now?" Kris stammered, his voice shaky with urgency. Kim looked at him, concern deepening as she observed his distress. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, honey," she said gently. "But the seatbelt sign is on now, and we're beginning our descent. You'll have to wait until we land." Kris's heart sank at her words, a sinking feeling of dread settling in his stomach. He clenched his fists, trying to suppress the rising panic threatening to overwhelm him. With each passing moment, the pressure in his abdomen grew more unbearable. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold on a little longer. He tried to distract himself, looking out the window at the passing clouds, but the discomfort was overwhelming. He shifted in his seat again, feeling the pressure in his abdomen reaching a critical point. Panic surged through him as he realized he might not be able to hold on much longer. Desperate, Kris tried to push up on his seat with his hands, hoping to relieve some of the pressure. But just as he did, he heard a loud, unmistakable sound—a sound that made his heart sink, and his cheeks burn with shame. Squelch... pfft... plop Kris's eyes widened in horror as he felt a heavy weight pushing down in his diaper, warmth spreading rapidly. He froze, unable to comprehend how he had let this happen. Beside him, Kyle looked up from his game, his eyes widening in shock as he realized what had occurred. He turned to Kim, his voice filled with disbelief. "Mom did Kris just..." Kim's eyes widened as she turned to Kris, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. "Kris, did you...?" Kris shook his head, his face burning with embarrassment. "I-I don't know what happened," he mumbled, unable to meet his mother's gaze. "I-I didn't mean to..." Kim's expression softened as she reached out to comfort him, but Kris pulled away, mortified by what had just transpired. He sat back in his seat, feeling the mess squish against him, the smell wafting up to his nose. He wanted to disappear, to escape this humiliating moment, but he was trapped, unable to leave his seat due to the seat belt sign. Tears welled up in Kris's eyes as he realized the extent of his embarrassment. He had just pooped his diaper on a crowded airplane in front of his entire family and several strangers. He felt shame unlike anything he had ever experienced, and he knew that this moment would haunt him forever. As the plane continued its descent, the smell of Kris's accident began circulating in the cabin. Kris felt his face burn with shame as he realized everyone could smell what had happened. He hunched over in his seat, trying to make himself smaller, wishing he could disappear. Every movement sent shivers down his spine as the mess squished and oozed under him. A few rows back, Kris heard a familiar voice—the boy from the restroom, the one who had seen his diaper. "I bet it's the diaper boy from the bathroom who pooped," the voice spoke loud enough for Kris to hear. He felt a fresh wave of humiliation wash over him, knowing that the boy was talking about him. Around him, Kris could hear murmurs and complaints from other passengers. Some were complaining about the smell, wrinkling their noses in disgust. "What's that smell?" one person complained. "It's disgusting," another voice chimed in. "Why do we always have to sit near a baby who poops?" someone else grumbled. Kris's cheeks burned with shame as he listened to the complaints. He wanted to sink into his seat and disappear, to escape the judging gazes and the whispers. He felt tears welling up in his eyes, but he blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. Beside him, Kyle shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his expression a mixture of embarrassment and sympathy. Kim leaned closer to Kris, speaking in a soft, soothing voice. "It's okay," she said gently. "Accidents happen, and it's nothing to be ashamed of. We'll be landing soon, and then we can get you cleaned up, alright?" forgetting that she had no way of doing so. Kris nodded, grateful for his mom. He knew she was trying to make him feel better, but the shame and embarrassment lingered. He closed his eyes, waiting for the minutes to pass so he could escape this humiliating ordeal. As the plane finally touched down and taxied to the gate, Kris felt a sense of relief wash over him. He couldn't wait to get off the plane and away from the prying eyes and judgmental whispers. As soon as the seatbelt sign turned off, Kris unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up, eager to escape. As Kris stood up from his seat, the urge to pee hit him with a vengeance. His bladder felt like it was about to burst, and he knew he couldn't hold it any longer. He glanced around frantically, panic rising within him as he realized the humiliating situation he was in. With a deep sense of shame already engulfing him from his recent accident, Kris made a split-second decision. He knew he was already in a dirty diaper, and with the passengers beginning to gather their belongings and make their way off the plane, he felt what's the difference at this point if he used the bathroom or his already soiled pull-up. At that moment, Kris decided to let go, allowing himself to release the pent-up urine into his already soiled diaper. He felt a rush of warmth spreading throughout the diaper as it became increasingly heavy and sagged noticeably. The feeling was both comfortable and mortifying, but Kris couldn't bring himself to care anymore in his overwhelmed state. As Kim gathered her belongings and prepared to exit the plane, Kris couldn't help but notice the stares from several passengers. Some looked disgusted, their noses wrinkling in distaste at the smell emanating from his soiled diaper. A few teenage girls giggled behind their hands, casting mocking glances in his direction, while a group of boys burst out into laughter, their eyes alight with amusement. The boy from the restroom, the one who had seen Kris's diaper earlier, stared at him with a knowing look, nudging his family members as if to say, "I told you so." Kris felt a surge of humiliation wash over him, his cheeks burning with shame as he realized just how visible his predicament was to everyone around him. As Kris waddled off the plane, his diaper heavy and sagging, he felt the weight of his humiliation pressing down on him with each step. His siblings glanced at him, some with pity, others with amusement, but none dared to speak up as they followed their parents through the crowded airport terminal. Kris couldn't bear the stares from the other travelers, their judgmental eyes boring into him like daggers. He kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he shuffled along, feeling every squish and squelch of his soaked diaper. "Mom," Kris whispered, tugging at Kim's sleeve as they reached the gate. "Can we please go get cleaned up?" Kim's heart sank as she looked down at her son, his face flushed with shame. She glanced around frantically, realizing they didn't have any spare clothes or diapers with them. They hadn't brought carry-ons, and their luggage was being forwarded to the hotel. "Oh, Kris," Kim murmured, her voice filled with regret. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. We don't have anything with us right now." Kris's eyes widened in dismay, his heart sinking even further as the reality of their situation sank in. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly humiliated, standing there in the middle of the bustling airport terminal with his dirty diaper on display for everyone to see.

Well, here goes nothing. I have posted on ABDL sites before but I don't think my heart was really in those stories. That has changed now, this story is one that I have put plenty of work into and I am finally ready to test it out on a real audience. I have a few chapters ready in the coming weeks but, based on how things go I hope to move to a regular schedule as I have lots of plans! Note regarding grammar, well I am terrible at it. I don't have an editor and rely mainly on re-reads and free web grammar checks so, don't judge me too bad, ha! Hope you Enjoy! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The sound of a flip-flop smacking the bottom of a foot and the ground in an annoying, repetitive beat filled the car as they approached their destination. “Tara, stop that!” her mother spoke sharply. Tara leaned up from the clenched position she was in at the back of the van and pressed her foot down hard to stop the tapping. She had been holding back her bladder for the better part of the trip. The freeway separating Tara’s house from her mother’s best friend was legendary. She had been holding back the two colas she had pounded at lunch and was thankful the end was nearly in sight. “I keep telling you it's not healthy for you to keep doing this to yourself; I thought we were past this.” Diane continued. In her current condition, Tara couldn’t help but agree with her. Ever since she was little, she had issues with bathroom breaks. As a small child, she was potty trained early, but that did not stop her from constantly having accidents. Her mom always said she had her ‘head in the clouds’; she would be so focused on something that nothing else would matter… nothing. As she grew older, Tara continued to have accidents that would go up and down in frequency. When she started school, she earned the unpleasant nickname ‘Tinkle Tara’. Between accidents and a bout with bedwetting when she was 7 and 9 years old, it looked like she was doomed to it. However, for whatever reason, a switch had flipped, and it had been nearly 8 years since ‘Tinkle Tara’ was uttered. On the other hand, in the last few months, Tara has been putting her bathroom training through the ringer. Time after time, she found herself holding her bladder and aching from the effort. Whether it was at the mall, watching a movie, or sitting through classes, the urge to go was becoming more frequent and urgent each time. She had not told her mother that she almost always felt the need to go ‘right now’ whenever she had to pee. It never helped matters that her mother was a health nut and had drilled into her to keep hydrated, so she always was drinking water. It was a habit, but then again, it was only in the last few months that things started to go sideways. Now Tara was also going to be playing ‘big sister/babysitter’ to a 10 year old. Her mother and Brittany’s, had been friends since High School and now work for the same company. Both had been married and are now divorced. With lucrative jobs and a daughter, they were about as close as any family member. So when they both were chosen to go overseas to be in charge of operations in a new business move for the company, they quickly decided the plan. As Tara was 18, she would watch and take care of Britteny until the two mothers got back, which would be around the beginning of the summer. “Now remember, you have to be in charge of Brittany and keep up with your school work. Those are the two most important things,” her mother said, for about the hundredth time. “Mom, I know. I have hung out with Brittany plenty of times before,” Tara countered. “Not for this long and with this many responsibilities. Plus, Cathrine has… Well something else that you are going to have to keep track of,” her mom finished. “Oh?” the girl raised her eyebrow. “She will tell you,” her mother said giving her a look that said, this is serious. As the van pulled into the garage of Cathrine and Brittany’s home, Tara shot like a bullet out the door into the house. Catherine was blurred as she shot for the bathroom in the room she usually stayed in on the second floor. Scrambling through the door, the sight of the bathroom made Tara relax. “No!” she gasped, hurriedly tired to get the button on her shorts undone. She had relaxed too early, and now things were out of control. Finally sitting on the seat, a sharp but blissful relief crept over her. She had not realized how much and how painful this time had been. Tara knew that she should stop doing this but, for now, inspected the damage to her shorts. The whole crotch of the garment was a darker shade of blue and was a lost cause. Luckily, she had one other pair close to these that she could grab from her bag and slip into. This was only the third time this had happened, but it certainly was not something she enjoyed. Slipping into fresh clothes, she made her way back down to the living room to ‘officially’ greet Cathrine and Brittany. “Whew, sorry about that,” she greeted Catherine. “It’s alright, pretty on par for you, ha!” Cathrine jested, then her voice went low,“Follow me to the kitchen.” Her mother was talking with Brittany, and the girl was looking like she did not have much to say, so she followed Catherine. “So there is something that I have been keeping from you; I just told her mother last night,” she let out with a long breath. “Oh no, is something wrong?” Tara blurted out. “No, no, nothing serious, but… Brittany has been having some troubles. Bathroom troubles,” she responded flatly. A heat rose in Tara’s cheeks, and she simply said, “Oh…” “Now I know that you had your own issues, but I recently saw a book about accidents among older children and teenagers. I have Brittany following some rules that are designed to help her get through this phase.” Cathrine explained as she put a hardcover book on the counter. “The front of the book explains how the rules work - the ins and outs as they were. And in the back there is the list of rules and a little chart if you need it,” she went on. Tara picked up the book, and before she could utter a word, Cathrine continued, “You obviously don’t have to read it, and Brittany knows the first two rules by heart now, but you should read them and she has to follow them. Supplies are in the upstairs hall closet.” “Supplies?” the girl questioned. “Well, in a nutshell, Brittany has to use protection whenever she has accidents. The more accidents, the more protection, and the more…eh… privileges she loses.” the older woman explained. “Ah, well, I guess that makes sense.” Tara concluded. She couldn’t believe it, Brittany was in diapers! It was a shock only because there had never been a hint to her that her little friend may have had such troubles. Well, Tara herself was smaller, but not terribly so, but she was still taller by a couple of inches. Brittany had a heart shaped face, round blue eyes, and shorter brunette hair, while Tara had sandy blonde hair past her shoulders, brown eyes, and a longer face. Both had followed their mother’s genes, like matched sets. “Cathrine, we need to get to the airport,” her own mother called out. “Oh yes, coming!” she replied, and then to Tara, “Just read the rules and make sure Brittany follows them, simple as it gets!” With that, she hugged Tara and made her way to the living room, where her daughter and Tara’s mother were. There were the usual tearful goodbyes, as the realization of how long it would be before they were all together again sunk in. All too soon, it was just Tara and Brittany watching TV in silence as the girls both recovered from the painful departure. Tara ordered pizza as a way of cheering them both up, and by the time the large pizza and sodas had been consumed, it was close to bedtime. She, Tara, knew it was time to broach the subject. She decided to do so in a manner that showed she trusted Brittany to know what she had to do. “Well, I guess it is time for bed, Brit,” she stated. Brittany yawned. “Yeah, I guess so.” The girl got up from the couch and made her way to the stairs. “Wait, Brittany!” she called to stop the girl. “Is there something we need to talk about? Some rules?” The younger girl froze, and she stiffened as she turned to face Tara, so she went on the offensive. “Before you say anything, it's alright. I had problems when I was around your age,” she tried to soothe Brittany. “I don’t want to follow the rules without mom,” she almost spat back at Tara. “Look, this will go smoothly if we just follow what your mom wants you to do.” Tara countered. “But… it's just… It's so embarrassing, and I want to just be normal.” Brittany pleaded, “Please don't make me do them.” It nearly broke Tara’s heart to see Brittany clinging onto a small hope that she would be out of whatever she had been enduring. “What exactly are the rules you are supposed to follow, i haven't read them yet because I want you to tell me,” Tara said. “Well, umm… you… There are five rules, and if you have any, you know. Then you start at 1 and go from there.” Brittany mumbled. “I see, and what rule are you on now?” She questioned further. “1B,” Brittany said out of the side of her mouth. “1B?” “Yeah, the first rule has three parts… some kind of like grace period before the rest of the rules, I guess.” Brittany had crossed her arms and had not looked at Tara since she started talking about the rules. “How far have you gone down the list?” Tara asked with complete curiosity. “Just two, but it was awful.” Brittany huffed. Tara was in a bind; she didn’t want to fight Brittany for weeks on end. And she didn’t want to have to deal with Brittany having accidents she could prevent. But most of all, she did want to have fun with Brittany; she really was like a little sister. The girl shouldn’t have to feel alone in this… then it hit her. It was drastic, but it just might work. “Alright, let's look at 1B,” Tara announced. Going into the kitchen, she opened the back of the book and found the page with 1A at the top. She read out, “1A - a single day-time accident will result in a pull-up for 1 day and night.” Turning the page, she also read, “1B - a single night-time accident will result in regular pull-ups for 2 days & night-time pull-ups for 2 nights.” Brittany was bright red but Tara talked fast to ease the embarrassment. “So you…” “The night before last, this is my second night. Mom let me go without during the day today because she was leaving,” the girl clarified. “Good, then we will both follow the rules going forward.” Tara stated. “Both?” Brittany asked. “Both,” she replied. “What good is that? It's still just me that will have to do any of it!” Brittany screeched. “Hold on. Did you see me dash upstairs when I got here?” Tara asked, and the girl nodded. “Well, I didn't quite make it, and my shorts got a bit wet. So I guess that puts me on 1A, right?” she said, matter of fact. “You're lying,” Brittany huffed, but Tara was prepared for this. A quick trip to her room and her shorts from earlier presented to Brittany were all the evidence she needed. “Whoa!” Brittany exclaimed. “Told you, so we will both be in pull-ups tonight. Your mom gave you a break, so we will just go with the pull-ups tonight. And if we are both dry in the morning, this all resets, right?” She asked cheerily. “Yeah, but… but… “ Brittany couldn’t come up with an argument. “Now come on, we are still about the same size; let's see if they fit and we can get off to bed.” Tara led the dumbstruck girl up the stairs and to the closet. It was packed with white boxes, each labeled in the upper corner. The shelf at chest height had two opened boxes, one of the left read ‘Slims’. Thinking these must be the pull-ups she grabbed two, and handed one to Brittany. “Let’s both get pjs on, i will come to your room in about 10 minutes.” Tara said as she closed her door behind her. Throwing the pull-up on the bed, it suddenly hit Tara what she was about to do. It had been so long since she had worn something like that she almost felt as if it stared back at her. As if this meant more than just a means to an end. Shaking her head, she inspected the pull-up; it wasn’t any of the major brands she knew. In fact, it only had an “R” in the center of the waistband to indicate a brand. The sides were just a bit longer than the width of her hand and the padding looked fairly thin, but then it was just a pull-up. Changing into a tank top with thin shoulder straps, she placed her usual PJ pants next to the pull up on the bed. Stepping into the pull-up she began to doubt that she would fit, yet as she dragged it up to her waist, it never seemed to tighten. Standing there, 18 years old, and in a pull-up, it may as well have been fitted for her. It clung to her a bit but didn’t feel tight, and she felt the leg holes conform around her leg just below her butt, a perfect fit. She walked around and noted the extra padding and the overall ‘bulk’ she was not accustomed to as she moved. Satisfied, she pulled her PJs over the pull-up and went to see Brittany. Knocking on the door, the girl called out that she was ready. Tara was momentarily taken aback as Brittany had some small shorts and the diaper spilled out of the top and the sides. “All set?” she asked. “Yeah… I guess,” but Brittany kept glancing at Tara's PJs. Pulling the band of her pants down a bit, Tara showed the top of the pull and said, “Fitted just fine.” Tara began to giggle, and a smile reached Brittany's face as well. Soon they were laughing hard at the situation, and the tension was broken between them. “Night, Brit, see in the morning.” Tara chuckled out. “Night, Tara” was the reply as the younger girl got into bed. Back in her own room, Tara turned off the lights and got under the streets, exhausted. However, she almost immediately realized why Brittany’s shorts were so small. Being under covers, in pants, and in a pull-up was not the most comfortable thing. But tiredness eventually overtook Tara, and she drifted off.

This will be my first story that I have written on DailyDiapers. I don't consider myself a writer and most of my writing experience over the last ten years has been scientific papers. I welcome any constructive criticism and feedback to make the story better. This story is something that I have been thinking about writing for around a year and I think I have all of the major plot points down with an ending planned and epilogue. I don't know exactly how long this story will be but it will be a novel length. I plan on averaging a chapter a week at this point. The story will center around our main character William Gauss, who is an applied math graduate student at Arizona State University. The story is centered around an illness that Will gets in the beginning. This story will be a slow burn in the beginning, as far as ABDL content goes, but if you stick with the story, our main character will be in the deep in of diapers soon enough. Since I am new to writing, I did base all my characters off of people in my life but all the names and relationship types are changed. I also am trying to make this story as realistic as possible, so I will use real places in the US. I plan to draw a lot from my own experiences for this story, but I have never lived in the places or attended the universities in this story. The only science fiction of this story will be Will's illness, but I will do my best to make it as realistic as possible from a medical standpoint. Saving Grace Chapter One I leaned back into my chair, stretching my arms above my head. It was getting close to 5 pm and after a long afternoon of grading 60 calculus II student's homework, I had finally finished for the day. Shutting my eyes for a second, I contemplated the lowly life of an applied mathematics Ph.D. student and Teaching Assistant. Don't get me wrong, I love the classes I am taking, and I discovered that I love teaching the calculus recitation classes and working at the tutoring center. Even my students tell me that I make a great teacher. But out of all my responsibilities, there is one thing that I have the hardest time motivating myself to do; grading 4 to 8 hours a week. With 60 students, it can be very mind-numbing. I open my eyes and look around my small office. I share this office with two other Ph.D. students, but unlike them, I use our office. They like to do most of their work at home if they can and I usually only see them briefly a few times a week. Not that I don't mind, it's nice to pretty much have my own office. I shut my laptop and stuffed it into my backpack and grabbed my bike that was leaning against the wall opposite of my desk. Opening my office door and pushing my bike out, I turn around and lock my door for the day. Pushing my bike down the corridor, I make my way to the elevator. As I get halfway there I hear someone behind me shout out, ``Hey Will.'' I turn around to see it is one of my friends and fellow grad students Steven walking down the corridor toward me. Steven is a guy of average height, maybe a little shorter, with an average build. He has shaggy black hair, a full beard that is kept neat and trimmed, and brown eyes behind a pair of glasses. We have been friends since starting at Arizona State University almost two years ago. We met at in-service week, the week before classes started. As he made his way to me, I said, "What's up, Steven.'' "Getting ready to leave for the day; have you started on the Abstract Algebra homework yet? I am stuck on the proof dealing with factor rings,'' Steven told me. I said, "I started all the proofs for each problem but have not really delved into trying to solve them yet. I plan on spending a few hours tomorrow trying to get the homework done.'' "Cool, hit me up tomorrow when you get done with classes and we can meet up and work on the homework together,'' he said. "Will do, I will shoot you a text when I am walking out of my last class tomorrow. See you tomorrow.'' I made my way to the elevator and hit the call button. The doors open up to reveal no one inside, so I push my bike into the elevator and hit the button for the first floor. After a short ride, the doors open up and I push my bike towards the exit. Hitting the handicap button by one of the exit doors. I push my bike through the exit and say a silent prayer to myself, thanking God for the Americans with Disabilities Act, or it would be a hassle getting my bike in and out of the building. Walking out of the Wexler Building, the eight-story building that has been my home during the day since moving here, I push my bike to the end of the sidewalk. I hop on my bike and begin my two-mile daily commute to my apartment just off campus. It is early March and even though I am in the desert climate of Tempe, Arizona, just outside Phoenix. The temperature can still get chilly and thankfully, I have my hoodie on to protect me from the slight chill in the air on my bike ride home. As I am riding my bike through campus, I think to myself how different Arizona is compared to my home state of Georgia. The place I called home until moving here a little over 18 months ago. The high temperatures never bothered me too much because of the lack of humidity, but the lack of humidity did take me some time to get used to. I definitely had to start using lotion and lip balm regularly to keep my skin from peeling off my body. Looking off into the distance, I can make out one of the sights that make me love this place, the mountains that surround a third of the city. After a short 10-minute bike ride, I pull into the parking lot of my apartment complex, passing by my parked silver 2011 Toyota 4-runner that I rarely drive during the week. My apartment building is a two-story building, with a stucco exterior with multiple light colors adorning the walls. I hop off my bike at one of the stairwells that lead to my apartment on the second floor. Hoisting my bike over one of my shoulders, I make my way up the stairs and down the catwalk that runs along the front doors to all the apartments. Standing at the door of my home, I unlock the door and push my bike inside. Walking into my one-bedroom apartment, I lean my bike against one of the chairs of my dining room table. My home is not the most luxurious, but as a single student in my twenties, I made it a very cozy place for me. Furnish by mostly thrift stores and use items off Facebook. The main open floor plan of my apartment has a desk on one side of the front door facing the window, made using two old filing cabinets with a one-inch thick piece of stained hardwood to form the top of the desk. Beside my desk is a large whiteboard mounted on the wall for writing reminders and working on homework. My office area is complete with a nice leather chair. Beside my office area is my living room area complete with a cloth couch with two end tables on either side with lamps and family pictures on top of the tables. In front of my couch is a nice used area rug with a hardwood coffee table stained a dark brown. On the wall opposite my desk is my large flat-screen TV. mounted on the wall itself. On the other side of my front door is the dining area with a white wooden table and four white chairs with wicker seats. The kitchen area consists of a large island with a stove in its center, and cabinets below the counter, and a breakfast bar on the other side. There are three hanging light fixtures above the island. Running along the wall are floor-to-ceiling cabinets with counters and a sink, dishwasher, and refrigerator. The walls are painted off-white with an accent light green painted on the kitchen wall and island. The floors are a composite light wood pattern that runs throughout the apartment. There is an alcove behind the kitchen that leads to the bathroom and the bedroom. I kick my shoes off by the door and I am greeted with the smell of pot roast that has been cooking in the crock-pot all day while I was at school. I walk through the kitchen into my bedroom. My bedroom consists of a queen-sized bed in its center with a nightstand on one side with a lamp and my wireless phone charger sitting on top. To my right is a large dresser with a lamp and a middle-size flat-screen TV. on top. All the furniture is made of hardwood and stained dark brown to match. Beside the doorway is a closet that runs the length of the wall with large light green sliding doors. Tucked away on one side of the closet is a washer/dryer combo. Walking to my dresser, I pull out one of the drawers to grab a pair of gray sweats and a white tee shirt. I strip my clothes off from the day and throw them into the hamper beside my dresser. Quickly slipping on my sweats and tee shirt, I can now put the long day behind me. Walking back into my kitchen, I take a small pot from one of the cabinets by my stove and set it on the stovetop. Turning around I reach into my pantry cabinet and grab the half-empty large bag of white rice. Turning the stove on, I mix enough rice and water into the pot to make 4 cups of rice. With twenty minutes to spare, I walk over and collapse on the couch, and grab the remote to turn on Netflix. Flipping through Netflix for about 10 minutes, I could not make up my mind and decided to re-watch Taylor Thomson's latest special. A few minutes into the show, my rice is now done and I get a bowl out of the cabinet by the sink and a fork out of the drawer next to the sink. I serve myself half the cooked rice and take the lid off my crock pot to ladle in a big helping of pot roast with potatoes and carrots. I sit back down on my couch with my dinner and a can of sparkling water and continue watching my show. I take a bite and savor the flavor of the roast and how tender it is after slow cooking all day. I may not be a chef, but when I set my mind to it, I can always put together a good home-cooked meal. After finishing the bowl and taking a few sips from my beverage, I decide on seconds and finish off the rest of the rice with another helping out of the crock-pot. With my stomach full and my show wrapping up, I go to the sink to rinse out my bowl, and the pot and load them into the dishwasher. Turning my attention to my pot roast, I slid the pot with the lid out of the crock-pot and set it into the refrigerator to heat up and eat off later this week. With it only being 8 pm I lay back down on the couch and turn on Shane Gillis' latest special. As I lay there watching t.v., I notice that I am getting tired and having a hard time keeping my eyes open. I think to myself, that the day must have taken more out of me than I thought. Deciding to call it an early day, I turn off the TV, throwing the now empty can in the trash, and walk into my bathroom to get ready for bed. Walking into my small bathroom, with a small white vanity with a sink and a cabinet mounted on the wall above with a built-in mirror, a toilet right beside it, and a bathtub/shower along the wall opposite the door. The bathroom is completed with white walls and light brown tile for flooring. I look into the mirror and see a young man looking back. I am tall, at 6 feet even, with a slim build. I have dark brown hair, a full beard that is kept neatly trimmed, and hazel eyes that seem to change from an almost brown to an almost green color depending on the lighting. I begin my short nightly routine by brushing my teeth and rinsing my mouth out with mouthwash. After spitting a couple of mouthfuls of water from the sink faucet, I look back into the mirror, taking note that my hair is starting to get shaggy. I make a mental note to get a haircut this weekend. I take a pit-stop over to the toilet to empty my bladder and with a quick wash of my hands I move towards my bedroom. Crawling into bed under the covers, I set my alarm for the morning, noting that it was only 9:30 pm, and set it on the charger. Turning over in bed it only takes me a few minutes to succumb to sleep. I wake in the middle of the night from a dead sleep, with the immediate need to throw up and throw up now! I bolt from my bed and rush to the bathroom. I make it over the toilet just in time to projectile vomit all over the bowl. My stomach is twisted in knots and feels like it is turning inside out as I throw up the contents of my stomach. When I finally stopped, I took some toilet paper to wipe my mouth with and flushed the toilet. Before the toilet could finish flushing, I was hit with another immediate need. I need to poop and I need to poop now! Turning around and jerking my sweat pants and boxer briefs down, I plant my butt on the toilet seat in time for a massive wave of semi-solid poop to exit my rear. After sitting on the toilet for a few minutes, I can finally take stock of what is going on. I notice that all my joints ache and I feel like I am coming down with either the flu or a stomach virus. After wiping, I turn around to flush and notice that I pooped a lot. The amount suggests that I have not gone in a few days, even though I had a normal bowel movement the morning before like I do every morning. Stepping over to the sink I wash my hands and wash my mouth out with mouthwash. I step into the kitchen and grab a glass of water to sip on. I walk back to my bedroom with the glass of water. Looking at my phone, the time is shortly after 1 am. I hope to myself that I feel better by tomorrow morning. I crawl back into bed and as soon as my head hits the pillow I pass out. Waking again, I notice that it is still dark outside and I feel nauseous and I have to poop again. I jump out of bed, run to the bathroom, and sit on the toilet to have my bowels explode into the toilet. As I sit there, I get more nauseated and I have to lean over to the bathtub to throw up what consists of stomach bile into it. Again, my joints ache, and I now have a headache to add to the list. I sit for a moment to collect myself. I wipe, flush, and rinse the tub out. I go to the sink to wash my hands and mouth out and go back to bed. As I am lying in bed, I think to myself that I am glad I don't have any teaching responsibilities tomorrow, I will definitely need to stay home from school. No less than 5 minutes later I fall back to sleep.

Hello I've been reading a bunch of little space stories and became inspired to write my own. It's the first story I've written like this so I hope everyone enjoys it. Chapter 1 Classification Day Sarah looked around the auditorium, there were just over two dozen students assembled. Every year from the ages of fifteen to eighteen students are tested for any developing classifications. Those who test positive are divided into three types, dominant, subordinate, and neutral, with several subtypes under dom and sub. Sarah figured she was going to be a caregiver, she always loved playing with her little cousins. Loved seeing them happy and smiling. Caregivers are usually taller but it's not unheard of them to be shorter than six feet. She stood just over five feet tall, with chestnut brown hair and sparkling green eyes that seemed larger than normal. Her face was soft and slightly puffy giving her an innocent look. It was a source of frustration for her, while it helped her when dealing with kids and littles, adults treated her younger than she actually was. The other students looked around nervously, a few of them were obviously friends as they huddled together whispering amongst themselves. She can't blame the others, they probably didn't know what they were going to be. Their attention was drawn to the front by an opening door. A woman walked from the open door to the podium, tapping on the mic before turning her attention to the students. “Welcome to Classification assignment,” the woman said. She was taller than the assembled students. Standing at least six feet tall, with long blond hair and a warm gentle face. “You all can call me Miss Clarissa, and today you’ll all be tested for a classification.” The students' voices raised as a few blurted out questions. Miss Clarissa raised her hand, silencing everyone. “I know you all have questions but we have a lot of students to get through. When your name is called please go through those doors.” she pointed to a set of double doors that stood open. A nurse in scrubs standing there with a list. “Sarah Anderson,” the nurse called. Sarah jumped a little and walked over to the woman, who had a gentle smile on her face. Sarah was led to a small area sectioned off with some partitions. “Please sit. Today we're going to be drawing some blood and then you’ll take the Bectel test.” “Is it painful?” Sarah asked. “Not at all sweetie, some electrodes will be placed on your head then you’ll watch a video while a computer monitors your neural activity. Now I'm going to draw some blood. Is that alright with you?” Sarah nodded her head, and watched the nurse take out a blood draw kit and several vials. She wrapped an elastic band around the girl's arm before feeling for a vein in the crook of her elbow. It took her a moment to find an acceptable vein but she nodded in satisfaction and cleaned the area with an alcohol wipe. Popping the safety cap off the butterfly needle she went to insert it. The girl watched the needle, her heart racing as it drew closer to her skin. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her hands. “Relax sweetie, it’ll only take a moment,” the nurse said gently. Sarah nodded and unclenched her hands, whimpering as she felt the needle pierce her skin. “Shh shh, you’re fine. Just going to take a moment,” she spoke calmingly and soothingly. “Just one more. That's a good girl.” The nurse took four vials before removing the needle and taping a cotton ball to the puncture. Sarah felt a few tears fall from her eyes as she watched the nurse put labels on the vials and drop them into a bag. The nurse walked away and came back a few seconds later with a sucker. “Here you go darling,” she said, handing it out. “Ready for the next part? I promise it won't hurt.” “‘Kay,” Sarah said with a sniffle. The nurse led her through the room, other kids were having their blood drawn. One of them bawled their eyes out. She tried to focus on her breathing. Trying to calm her racing heart. She didn't notice when they left the room and entered a small room with a machine in it. An older man stood beside a small reclining chair. “I have Sarah Anderson here,” she said, handing over some paperwork. “Excellent, can you sit here for me,” the doctor asked gently. Sarah nodded and hopped up on the chair, her head feeling fuzzy from the needle, she always hated needles. The doctor explained what he was going to do, which she mostly ignored. Except for the last part which caught her attention. “... then once I get a baseline reading I'm going to show you a video.” “Video…?” “Yes, it's just some funny shapes and colors,” he said, walking over to the computer, then tapping a few buttons. “Ready sweetheart?” She nodded again, and watched him flip a switch with trepidation. Bracing for the unknown she was slightly disappointed when nothing happened. He simply smiled down at her, putting her at ease. While she waited she looked around the room. It was a classroom, all the desks were pushed to one wall and the room divider was stretched across it, dividing the classroom in half. “One of my colleagues is in the other half with another Bectel tester,” he said, following her gaze. The computer dinged and he clapped his hands together. “Alright sweetheart, I'm going to start the next part now, go ahead and look at the TV there.” “‘Kay…” she said watching the tv. It was still black for a moment before turning on. It was showing a pure white image. She started to turn her head when the doctor gently patted the top of it. “Keep watching.” She nodded and became entranced as some shapes and colors flashed on screen. They began to change, changing size and color. As she watched her head began to feel fuzzy again. She shook it, trying to clear it while keeping her eyes on the screen. But the fuzzy feeling continued. Spreading through her whole head. The funny shapes continued to change. “Pwetty…” “How are you feeling sweetheart?” “I few fuzzy,” she giggled. “Do you know where you are?” “Scoo!” she exclaimed. “That's right,” he said, smiling at her. “Pwetty sparkus,” she beamed. The video kept her rapt attention, running for a while before fading back to pure white. “Are you with me sweetheart?” “Huh?” Sarah blinked several times before shaking her head. “What…?” “We're done, you'll receive your results in a few days after the bloodwork finishes.” “Thank you,” she said. “No thank you for being such a good girl,” he said, smiling as her cheeks turned pink. “Nurse, I'm ready for the next one.” Sarah looked at the clock, somehow thirty minutes had passed already. Her attention was pulled away as the door opened up. The nurse led another student into the room and took Sarah back to the auditorium. “Sarah Anderson?” Miss Allison called. “Yes ma’am?” “You may go home, take this letter to your parents please,” she said, holding out a sealed envelope. “Yes ma’am,” she said, taking the offered envelope and walking to the door. She pulled her phone from her pocket and texted her mom asking for a pickup. Settling down to read something while she waited. She got a few chapters through one of her favorite little stories before her mom pulled up. “Sarah sweetie,” her mom called her, making her jump. She was so focused on what she was reading she didn't notice her mom standing in front of her. “How’d it go?” “It was alright, they took some of my blood and hooked me up to a weird computer.” “Ah, I remember the day I was classified. Everyone there said it was obvious what I was,” she said, a nostalgic tinge to her voice. “Really?” Sarah asked, hopping to her feet and following her mom to their car. They both climbed into the car, and buckled in. “Yea, it was very obvious I was a dom even before then.” “It was?” “Yea, I was already more developed than other girls my age, and I was very authoritative. The next year I met your father,” she said, then sighed. It was true, her mom was nearly six feet tall, standing at five foot eleven. She was a mistress, which she reluctantly told her daughter. Much to Sarah's embarrassment. Her mother had the same chestnut hair, but hers fell down to the middle of her back. Her warm honey colored eyes drew the viewer to her face, with its small dainty nose, full pouty lips, and sensual smile. “I miss dad,” Sarah said, sniffling slightly, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I do too.” A silence between them fell as her mother drove back to their house. “So, any idea what your classification is?” her mom asked, breaking the silence. “Caregiver probably.” “You do have a lot of fun playing with Alice and Sam. Are you sure you’re not a little?” “No mom, I don’t want to be a little.” “Why not sweetie?” “Cause I don't want to be reliant on someone my whole life. I don't want to be restricted from being an adult. I don't want my freedom taken away. Besides, I don't have any little tendencies.” “Still you might be surprised,” she said softly. “Mom no, I don't even want to think that way. I’ll be a caregiver. End of story,” she said, crossing her arms. “Alright sweetie,” her mom said, chuckling softly. “Did they say how long you have to wait?” “No, but they gave me a letter for you,” she said, pulling it out of her pocket. “Hold on to it until we get home sweetie.” “‘Kay mom.” Sarah pulled out her phone and texted her best friend Melissa. She’s also doing her classification test today, but later than Sarahs. With a big yawn her head bobbed and fell to her chest as she fell asleep. ***** “Sweetie, time to get up.” “Huh?” Sarah stirred, looking at her mom bleary eyed. “We’re home.” She looked around in confusion. “Still tired sweetie?” Sarah nods and holds up her arms. “Such a spoiled girl,” her mom said, giggling as she picked up her daughter, pocketing the envelope that had fallen from her grip. Carrying the half awake girl to the front door. She used her free hand to open the door. “We’re back,” she said, closing the door behind her. “Welcome back Mistress Michelle,” a woman called from the other room. “How’d it go?” “Well enough,” she replied, walking into the living room. Placing her daughter down on the couch she turned to face a woman who looked very different than her. Smaller with light blonde hair and clear blue eyes. She was much smaller at only “Long day?” “I think she was just stressed. You know how stressful classification day can be,” she sighed sitting down next to the woman, who pressed into her side and hummed contentedly. “I know, my mom was sad that I got designated as a pet,” she said nuzzling into Michelle. “Like she was super supportive but I could tell she was disappointed.” “And it's her loss,” she replied, planting a kiss on the smaller woman's lips. “You’re a wonderful woman, Ariel. And an amazing pet. “I’m so glad you adopted me,” she said. “Especially after Jason.” “Shh shh, don't even think about him,” Michelle said, swiping a tear from her pet's cheek. “Should we wake Sarah up?” “No, leave her to sleep for now, it's barely been twenty minutes. She gave me a letter,” she said, holding up the sealed envelope. Dear Miss Michelle, This letter is to inform you that preliminary results show that your daughter will be classified as a little. You should make sure she's aware and ready to receive the official announcement, as well as her official regression range. Should she drop before receiving the results we encourage you to allow it to progress naturally. Sarah will be required to attend special classes. Before her eighteenth birthday we advise finding her a caregiver. If she doesn’t have a registered caregiver sixty days after her eighteenth birthday a foster caregiver will be assigned to her. Once her age range is established a list of required items will be supplied with the classification folder. Best regards, Agent Alexi, C.L.P.S. “Shit…” Michelle swore. “What?” “Sarah’s going to be pissed…”

Hey everyone! Welcome to Academy II, the final installment of Academy Works. The title is unlike previous installments, using a roman numeral instead of a letter. This is a play off Academy I, the first in the series, but it also has a few other meanings. You will quickly find that A2 is very different to the other stories! If you haven't read any Academy Works stories, there are six others in this universe. They are as follows: Academy I (Part 1), Academy B (Part 2), Academy T (Part 3), Academy K (Part 4), Academy A (Part 5), and Academy M (Part 6). Since this is the final book in the series, reading all of the previous ones will help you understand what's going on. I strongly encourage it. But if you want to jump right in on this one, I think you'll still have a good time. Thanks to all my readers and fans over the past few years. I hope this conclusion is everything you wanted it to be. You can support my work at this Patreon link, or this SubscribeStar link. ~Mia~ --------------------------------- Academy II will operate a bit differently than previous stories. Updates will be multiple chapters at once, with a bit of a twist. Please be patient and thoughtful with this new format. ❤️ Take it away, Soph. ---------------------------------

Ivan watched as the girl walking in front of him on the sidewalk tripped over a crack or a rock or who knows what, and fell down, smacking her hands and knees against the cement. Ordinarily he wasn't one to just interact with strangers- him being so big and intimidating, it usually didn't work out well for anyone. This time, however, he paused. He leaned down, grabbed her hands, and helped her up to her feet. He glanced her up and down- she was a bit teary eyed, and bleeding just a bit from her knobby knees. "You should get a bandage." He said quietly. It was an attempt to show concern, but he rarely spoke with others these days, so it sounded awkward. He reached his hands out and wiped her eyes. "There's no need to cry, nothing looks broken." He glanced around at her things, noticing a school bag which had spilled out its contents on the floor. The girl looked a bit young, but she was still very obviously of college age, as she was walking by herself, and headed toward the block of dingy college apartments. He offered his hand and smiled. "Can I walk you home to make sure you don't take another tumble?"

All characters are adults. This is a work of fiction, not necessarily set in the real world. Every time your criticize online fetish erotica for being unrealistic, a fairy gets tax audited. The rest of the car ride was quiet, but not in a good way. Every little shift in someone’s seat, every bump on the road, every red light, even driving straight on a smooth road with light traffic—everything reverberated around the minivan’s interior. Anger and shame echoed off the glass. The click of the turn signal was deafening. And whenever another car pulled next to us at an intersection and either one of us made incidental eye contact with other drivers, the emotion in the car would somehow intensify. I would start tearing up again, but I dared not sob or sniffle my nose—that would only make things worse. My runny eyes and runny nose had already dripped down my face and on to my Sesame Street shirt and the straps of my overalls, but that was hardly the worst mess in my outfit. Lower down, my entire bottom was completely soaked; I’d wet my pants in the car. The wetness had dribbled down to my shoes and wicked up to the lower part of my shirt. My car seat was full of my naughty pee-pees, and I could almost feel it slosh around as we wove around traffic. It was cold now. The little toy mirror attached to my seat had somehow gotten pointed down, and a glance displayed a little baby who couldn’t hold on to use the potty like a big boy, and I just felt like crying again. And worst of all, I could already feel my tummy rumbling, and I would need the potty again soon. I’d never had a poopy accident before, but how could I possibly ask mommy for help now? I had hoped she would calm down during the car ride, but one shared glance in the rear-view mirror showed that wasn’t going to happen. Would I have have two accidents today?! Mercifully, we reached the driveway of our house. Unmercifully, mommy did not pull all the way into the garage. Instead, she parked outside, turned off the car, and turned around to face me. “I can’t believe you’ve had another accident! That’s the fourth time this week you went pee-pee in your nice clothes, and I have to get you cleaned up and clean up the mess you made! And all the bedwetting! Big boys use the potty! They don’t have accidents! Only babies do! Are you a baby?” Mommy’s upbraiding got me crying again. In between wails, I tried to say, “I’m sorry mommy!” but nothing intelligible came out. “I’ve had it with you! I don’t know a single other 34 year old who can’t control themselves. I know you’re big enough to hold your potties. So you must just be doing this to make mommy mad! Is that it?” I continued crying. “Well mission accomplished! So now I’m going to march you into the house, in broad daylight in front of all the neighbors so they can see what a little baby my supposed husband is, and you can stand in the naughty corner while I clean up your car seat.” With that, mommy pressed the button to open the sliding car door while she got out and stomped around the front. Reaching the door, she leaned over me and unbuckled my car seat, getting a real good view of how much I’d peed. “I guess you shouldn’t have had all that juice this morning, huh? Now get out.” I gingerly climbed out of the car and on to the pavement. Some of my cold pee-pee dribbled further down my pants, making me shiver. Now march! Double time! I waddled up the driveway, leaving bid wet footprints behind me. The neighbors were indeed getting an eyefull, watching the woman next door push her pathetic husband into the house with wet pants. What a loser! Mommy led me over to the corner of the living room, the naughty corner, to wait in time out. But then my tummy made another rumble, and I remembered that I still had to go poopy. “Mommy wait! I needa go potty!” “Oh no you don’t, mister! You’re not going to wiggle out of corner time that easily! Your ‘potties’ are all over your clothes and car seat, so I know that’s a lie!” “But mommy…” “No buts! If you so much as budge from that corner, you’re going to get the spanking of a lifetime!” And with that, mommy swooped right out of the room back outside to the driveway, leaving me in the corner. Pants full of pee. Shirt covered in tears and boogies. And a tummy full of poo-poo that really needed to come out. And so I started holding again. The wait dragged on as my tummy growled louder and louder, begging for relief. After a while, I could hear the car door close and the remote lock beep, and I could tell mommy was done cleaning and I could leave time out soon! I was gonna make it! But then I heard voices outside. It was Mrs. Whiting next door. She and mommy had stopped to talk! Oh no! I can’t hold on! “Mommy!” I shouted, the strain causing a little bit of poopy to poke out of my tushy. No answer. My strength giving out, my knees started to buckle, and I involuntarily squatted down. With my last little bit of strength, I squeezed as hard as my could for about a second, then a little fart escaped. My exhausted tushy fell limp, and I felt a real big poopy slide out. It felt firm at first as it shoved out of my body, but got squishy as it dropped into the bottom of my underpants and stretched it out. Another fart, then a second poopy came out, softer than the first. The sensations of all that yucky poopie squishing against me, the loud farting, and stink of my accident was all too much, and I started crying again. Tears were rolling down my cheeks, snot was oozing from my nose, and more pee-pee flowed into my pants as I started wetting again. I stood there and wailed for what felt like hours. During a break in my sobs, I could feel there was third wave of poopy inside me, blocked by the pile already sitting in my pants. I just wanted it out, so I squatted down some more and pushed. Another small squirt of pee came out, and then a glob of very mushy poop burst out of my… “Oh my god, you are not serious!” During all my crying, I hadn’t noticed mommy had come back in and was standing in the doorway. She saw her crying husband with a fresh puddle around his feet, squatting down and pooping his pants. “Now you’re messing yourself?!” I didn’t answer with any words, just a fresh round of crying. My face was purple now. I lightly stomped my feet, and a small piece of poopie dripped down my leg. Mommy swooped in, grabbed my by the ear, and whisked me upstairs. I wailed all the way into the bathroom. I wailed the whole time mommy swiped off my soggy shoes, my cold socks, my stained shirt, my dripping overalls, and finally, my wet and poopy underpants, slipping down my legs and landing on the floor with a thump. I stood naked in the bathroom, shivering with cold and fear. I knew what was coming. Mommy silently emptied my messy underwear into the toilet and put the rest of my clothes in the special hamper we have for my accident clothes. She also took a wet-wipe from the counter and gave my tush a cursory wipe, confirming the dread punishment I was in for. She turned on the bathtub faucet to let it fill, took the special hairbrush from the counter, lowered the toilet seat cover, sat down, and looked dead at me. “Come here.” “Please mommy, I’ll try harder! I won’t poop my pants again, I promise!” “I said, come here!” Quivering with pathetic fear, I gingerly walked over to mommy, and knelt down over her lap. “Do you know what you did wrong?” “I had a potty accident in my pants.” Tears were coming again. I put my hands behind my back. Without warning, mommy grabbed my two crossed wrists and began spanking. I started bucking and wailing as blows rained down on my reddening cheeks, mommy berating me with every stroke: “BIG! BOYS! DON’T! WET! Their PANTS! They USE! The POTTY! ONLY! BABIES! WET! And POOP! Their PANTS! ONLY! BABIES! CRY! STUPID! CRYING! PISSY! STINKY! BABY!” The room was awash in noise with mommy’s shouting, my crying, and the water faucet’s roar. It wasn’t until I cried so hard that I started choking on my own sobs that mommy finally relented. As suddenly as they began, the blows stopped and I was told to stand up again. Mommy put the brush away and turned the faucet off. She tested the water temperature, and motioned for me to get in. I gingerly lowered myself into the water, wincing as my red tushy touched the water. I sat down and just tried to catch my breath. I felt drained from everything that had happened, and I could only flop around limply while mommy took a bath sponge and started soaping me up. “I’m going to mark two accidents on your potty chart today. Do you know how many days this week you’ve been accident-free?” I shook my head no. “Just once, four days ago. And that’s only because I was being nice.” I remembered that trip to the potty. I had already dribbled a lot by the time I made it to the training potty in the hallway, and my underpants had a silver-dollar-sized wet spot on them. It sure felt like an accident, especially once I was finished and had to pull my cold underpants back up. And then, wet pants and tears three days in a row, finished off with a big poopy mess. “And you’re wetting the bed every night, too! That’s why you’re so tired and cranky during the day.” Mommy’s voice was softening. What did she mean? “I think someone’s not quite ready for big boy pants, hm?” Mommy took the shower spray and got my hair wet, then started massaging in shampoo. “If you can’t use the potty like a big boy, then the only solution is for you to start wearing your diapers again.” Oh no! Not that! Please! I’m not a baby! I’ll be good! I wanted to scream and thrash in the tub, but I was too tired, and all that came out was a moaned, “Noooo…” “I’m sorry, sweetie, but you’re still too little.” She started spraying the shampoo out of my hair. “If you can’t hold your pee-pees and poopies for the big boy potty, then you’re just going to have to wear diapers for all your accidents.” “No, no, no, no, no…” My moan was now barely a mutter. Everything inside me was gone. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t use the potty… I really was just a baby! Mommy pulled the plug in the bathtub and started toweling me off, even while I softly blubbered. “I think you’re going to need a nap once I get your diaper on.” “Noooo naaaap!” “I’m getting mighty sick of hearing you whine ‘no’ over and over again. Now lets go get your baby pants on, unless you just want to stand here naked all day? You want that? You want to make mommy mad?” Still quietly sobbing, I shuffled over toward my bedroom, if you could call it that. More like a nursery. Mommy wouldn’t let me sleep with her anymore since I kept wetting the bed, and that was usually where Mister Robert slept when he stayed over, so there was no room for me. I slept and took naps in the guest room instead, which mommy had decorated with teddy bear and train decals on the walls, and Sesame Street or Pup Patrol bedsheets, whichever set wasn’t in the washing machine, on the bed (along with an uncomfortable plastic sheet). Toddler toys and stuffed animals were strewn around the floor, and there was still a faint smell of pee-pee in the air from previous nights’ accidents. Once she ushered me into the room and closed the door, she walked over to a mini-fridge in the corner of the room and pulled out a bottle of milk. Silently, she put in the bottle warmer sitting on top, then strode over to the closet and retrieved an unopened bag of diapers (she’d bought them to threaten me a week ago), a big beach towel, and a small bag I’d never seen before. All with a kind of scary efficiency, she unfurled the towel on the floor and set the diapers and bag down next to it. She turned to me with a cold look. “Lay down.” “Please, mommy…” She looked at her once-husband, still softly sobbing, cheeks wet with tears, a fresh coating of snot bubbling out of my nose and down over my mouth and down my chin, clutching a towel over my shoulders, shivering, my little pee-pee shriveled up even more than usual… A one-time junior law partner reduced to something so… “Pathetic,” she muttered. “I said, lay down.” “But I don’ wanna…” “LAY DOWN FOR YOUR DIAPER OR I SWEAR…” I crept a little closer, and then mommy grabbed my arm and, somehow without throwing me, quickly put me on my back on the makeshift changing pad, almost pinning me. She opened the plastic bag of diapers, pulled one out and started fluffing it, making sure I got a good look at the design. It was decorated with baby circus animals, each wearing its own diaper, and a few with pacifiers, baby bottles, rattles, and other infantile things. Once she was done fluffing, she opened it wide. “Lift your butt, diaper boy.” I never stopped sobbing. I obeyed and lifted my hips slightly, and mommy slid my diaper under me. Reaching into the mysterious bag, she then produced a bottle of baby powder and started sprinkling its snow all over my little pee-pee and tushy, rubbing it in with her other hand. I was embarrassed, but I liked the scent. Finally, she folded my diaper up over me, its cushioned stuffing hugging all my potty parts, and fastened the tapes. The whole time, she muttered, “Can’t use the toilet, can’t use the plastic potty in the hall, can’t hold his piss in the car, and now can’t hold his poop. Baby diapers it is.” The whole time, I just kept crying. “I’ll have to get a changing table for you, so I don’t have to bend over on the floor.” Once I was taped up, she got up and went to my dresser to get a new shirt. I sat up and looked at the puffy, crinkly diaper bulging between my legs. Every time I moved, the plastic crackled like firecrackers. I gingerly reached down to feel the plastic… “NO! You may not remove your diapers! Understand?” She lightly smacked my hand. “Now stand up.” I got up from the towel, trying to adjust my stance for all the padding between my legs. As I steadied myself, a long string of snot dripped down from my nose onto the towel. “Ugh, gross,” mommy said in disgust. She reached down back into the bag and got a pack of baby wipes. She took one and started roughly wiping my face down, removing the tears and snot. “You’re just a mess on both ends, aren’t you? Now arms up.” I complied, and she brought down a clean t-shirt over my head, one that had “BABY” in toy blocks printed on the front, and was just a little short, leaving my diaper on full display. “Now get into bed for your nap. Your bottle should be ready now.” I mournfully shuffled over to my bed and pulled back the sheets. Even after washing, there was still a dingy yellow stain there from repeated wettings, a reminder of why I was in the predicament. As I laid down, mommy came over with a warm bottle… and Jake. Jake was my best friend. He never yelled at me when I had accidents. He never called me stupid or smelly. He was always ready to give me hugs and comfort me. He wasn’t just my best friend, he was my only friend. I was so grateful Jake would stay with me for my nap. I reached out for him and clutched him close. “Now drink this. Maybe then you’ll calm down.” I was reluctant, since I wasn’t thirsty, and I was worried I’d wet the bed again if I drank anything. I shook my head no. “Well if you’re going to nap without your bottle, maybe you can nap without Jake.” I squeezed Jake tighter and moaned. “Then open up.” I opened my mouth a little and mommy slid the nipple in. Without thinking, I started suckling, and the warm milk started squirting out into my mouth, down my throat, and into my tummy. Mommy gently guided my free hand over the bottle and helped me grasp it, then pulled up the sheets. “Now don’t get out of bed until I tell you, and don’t try to take off your diaper. Just drink your bottle, and I’ll do some laundry.” With that, she turned off the lights, left the room, and closed the door. I kept suckling my bottle on autopilot while I looked at my situation. I was back in diapers, and I didn’t know how long until mommy let me try to potty train. I reached down under the blankie and felt the plastic covering my pee-pee. I knew I wouldn’t get the bed all wet, but I was still sad I couldn’t be a big boy anymore. I took the bottle out of my mouth and turned to Jake. “Can I still be a big boy?” I listened to Jake’s answer, then I responded. “I guess so. Mommy knows best.” I kept suckling the warm milk out of the bottle until it was all done. I was so sleepy from all the chaos that’d happened. Just as it was empty, I let the bottle fall from my mouth and hugged Jake tighter. At least I was warm. Warm from the milkies, warm from my blankie, warm from Jakie, and warm in my diapie… Did I just have another accident? I fell asleep before I could answer.

Luna’s predicament Fulgrim Prologue It all began with a flash,then a boom, and finally an infinity of sensations once forgotten came like a tsunami to Luna after the banishing of nightmare moon. Things like breathing, coldness and tiredness came crushing to the poor princess, now finally free from that curse born from ancient hate. Alas she was free, Free, but she didn't have much time to ponder as she succumbed to exhaustion. ________________________________________ “This is it ?” said twilight exhausted from such extraneous activities “Yes it is” said Celestia in her usual optimistic tone “But, I don't understand ?” said twilight confused Were once stood a mighty foe,now was but a little filly “Magic and alicorn biology are things truly mysterious,I didn't know what her banishment and subsequent exorcism would entail… such a predicament.”She said now stoically “So what now ?” Said twilight wishing to go to bed, of course not before reading a 50 page essay about Blue eucalyptus lilies. “Now it is high time me and my little sister go home” Now a bright, brighter than the brightest of suns adorning her mouth. ________________________________________ Now Celestia began her journey to her palace, now with an added package in the form of her little sister. Whilst for her subjects a restful night was ahead of them, for the princess of the sun, the night had just begun, as she had now to prepare everything for the reintroduction of her sister. From a room to rest, medical staff to attend to her wounds, tutors to teach her all the things she missed during 1000 years, to a hundred other little things. Indeed things were going to be quite occupied for the bearer of the sun, but she was genuinely happy over the development of the affair, and whilst she was preoccupied about the predicament of her sister, she could do nothing to change it, indeed it was a good night. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Sooooooo the prologue to my first ever kink story, yay i suppose, just to be clear i don't know how long this whole affair will be but hey, who cares? Thanks for reading and have a goodnight. Chapter 1

Here we go again. As I had just started writing my first story ever (Whispers in the Dark), I already learned a ton. While I still uses crutches (AI), I thought I could already use what I've learned with Whispers in the Dark and apply it to a new, more thought out story. This one is already mostly outlined, has longer chapters and a completely different theme to it. I will still continue Whispers in the Dark of course, but while that one is only roughly planned in my head, this new one is fully planned out on paper. Except for one wetting scene, the build up is rather slow, but it will be worth it. I have a lot planned for this story. You can view the first 3 chapters as some kind of very long prologue. Let me know what you think! Under Pressure Innocence in the Shadow of Power Chapter 1 - Birthday Under the soothing rush of the shower, I felt the weight of today pressing down on me. It was a pivotal moment, the divide between the life I'd grown accustomed to and the uncertain horizon ahead. Each droplet mingling with my tears seemed to underscore the harsh reality: I was saying goodbye to the comfort of my tiny apartment, facing the daunting prospect of nowhere to belong. "Happy birthday, Feli," I murmured to my reflection as I emerged from the steam. Felicity von Sterntal—that's my full name. The "von" part adds a touch of German flair, a nod to nobility, though our family's far from royal. My grandparents, German immigrants who made their way to the USA in the 60s, christened me with the nickname "Feli," though it's pronounced more like "Fehly." I never really knew them, as they passed when I was just a baby. Still, I've grown fond of my name. It's distinct, and it ties me to something, even if it's just the echoes of the past. Drawing upon every bit of strength I could muster, I willed a smile onto my lips, hoping to cloak the uncertainty gnawing at my core. The girl in the mirror, barely reaching five feet tall, her deep blue eyes framed by unruly black hair cascading down to her mid-back, reflected my forced composure. Despite my 18 years, she seemed more like a lost teenager navigating the tumult of adolescence rather than on the brink of adulthood. As I locked eyes with her, the facade faltered, exposing the raw loneliness lurking beneath the surface. She lacked the confidence she sought to project. Stepping into my living room—well, my only room—a wave of sadness engulfed me. Today marked the end of calling this place home. Glancing around, memories flooded back, stirring up a mix of nostalgia and sorrow. In one corner stood my tiny kitchen, equipped with just the basics: stove, sink, fridge, and microwave. It had witnessed its fair share of culinary experiments and mishaps. Opposite the kitchen, my bed nestled into another corner, its modest size a testament to the limited space. Despite its smallness, it had cradled me through countless nights of rest and contemplation. Across from the bed, my desk stood, once housing my PC which I'd already packed away. It had been my sanctuary for studying and coding, a space of productivity and focus. And lots and lots of gaming. Now, everything else was neatly packed in boxes, except for my trusty backpack holding the essentials: phone, laptop, and a few changes of clothes. As I surveyed the remnants of my life here, a shroud of uncertainty settled over my thoughts. I scooped up the final crumbs of cereal from the box, a stark reminder of dwindling supplies in my modest kitchen. With a sigh, I sank into the worn chair at my desk, spoon in hand, and retrieved the letter once more. Its contents had been etched into my memory since its arrival on the day of my high school graduation, just weeks ago. As I savored the last bites of cereal, I read over the letter one last time. Dear Felicity, We hope this letter finds you well. It is with careful consideration that your mother and I have reached a decision regarding your financial support. As you have successfully completed your high school education and are soon to reach the age of majority, we believe it is appropriate to adjust our financial arrangements accordingly. Regrettably, we must inform you that, effective immediately, we will no longer be providing you with financial assistance, including your allowance. Furthermore, in light of your impending 18th birthday, arrangements have been made for movers to assist you in vacating the apartment that we have provided for you. We view this transition as a gesture of our support and encouragement as you embark on the next chapter of your life. Please be prepared to surrender your keys to the designated representative upon their arrival. With warm regards, Alexander and Victoria von Sterntal It was a cruel slap in the face, a harsh reminder of my parents' indifference, their decision to cut off the last lifeline of financial support right on the brink of my adulthood. As I absorbed the cold, impersonal words of the letter, a surge of anger and resentment boiled within me. This wasn't just about money; it was a final abandonment, a deliberate shove into the abyss of independence. The memory of how I came to live in this apartment at such a young age flooded back, stirring up a blend of bitterness and resignation. My parents, consumed by their careers and absent from my life, had effectively abandoned their parental duties when I was just fifteen. Their presence had never been significant anyway; nannies had filled the void left by their absence, their faces blending into a blur of caretakers who had come and gone over the years. Despite their neglect, the apartment had provided a semblance of stability in a chaotic world. It was my sanctuary, my own space amidst the turmoil. And now, as they callously stripped away even that small comfort, I couldn't help but feel bitterness at the injustice of it all. With a heavy heart, I folded the letter and set it aside, its implications casting a palpable weight in the air. The cereal in my bowl had lost its appeal, each spoonful a bitter reminder of the uncertainty looming ahead. As the minutes stretched on, I pondered the cruel irony of their supposed "birthday gift," a gesture tinged with spite rather than kindness. And as the harsh reality of my situation settled in, I steeled myself for the turbulent road ahead, resolved to carve out my own path despite the hurdles in my way. As the doorbell shattered the quiet of my apartment, I braced myself for the inevitable. With a steadying breath, I crossed the room and swung open the door, greeted by the stern gaze of a man in his mid-fifties, dressed in a somber suit. His presence filled the doorway, a forewarning of the chaos awaiting me. Introducing himself as a representative of the von Sterntal family, a bitter irony settled over me at the shared surname, a reminder of the tangled connections binding me to this tumultuous moment. Behind him, a group of movers stood with downcast expressions, their sympathetic glances betraying their discomfort at being complicit in my forced eviction. It seemed they had been briefed on the situation, their professional demeanor tinged with a touch of empathy. "Miss von Sterntal," the representative began, his voice laced with formality. "I assume you're aware of the purpose of our visit," he continued, his gaze drifting to the neatly packed boxes scattered throughout the apartment, silent witnesses to the impending upheaval. I simply nodded, the lump in my throat stifling any words that threatened to escape. "Very well," he said briskly, his tone businesslike. "If you could just sign here and hand over the keys, we'll take care of the rest." His smile carried a hint of reassurance, emphasizing that the movers' services came without cost to me. With a resigned acceptance, I took the document and signed it, my signature a stark acknowledgment of my departure from the property. Handing over the keys, I watched as the movers sprang into action, loading my belongings into the waiting truck. It was a transaction devoid of choice, a forced relinquishment of my home, as I stood by, a silent witness to the unraveling of my life. As the movers finished loading my belongings, I slung my backpack over my shoulder, the only link to the life I was leaving behind. With a final click, the representative locked the door, marking the end of an era. As we headed towards the waiting truck, he spoke up once more, offering me a semblance of choice amidst the chaos. "The movers will take you wherever you want," he said, his words a small act of kindness in the midst of turmoil. And just before we parted ways, he added, "Oh, and Miss von Sterntal, happy birthday by the way." His well-wishes hung in the air, a bitter reminder of the cruel twist of fate that marked the day. With a handshake and a farewell, he left me standing there, the taste of bitterness lingering. As the truck pulled away, carrying me towards an uncertain future, I couldn't help but resent the hollow birthday wishes, a stark reminder of the emptiness awaiting me. I directed the movers towards a storage unit I had booked online for a week, a temporary sanctuary for the fragments of my past life. It was a pragmatic solution, born from necessity with the scant funds left to me by my parents. As we navigated the bustling streets of the city, I couldn't shake off the irony of my circumstances. Despite being the offspring of the private owners and executives of a multi-billion-dollar tech empire nestled in the heart of NYC, their generosity towards me had always been in short supply. Their reminders of my status as their "accident" reverberated in my thoughts, a persistent reminder of my position on the fringes of their world. It was a bitter pill to swallow, realizing that despite their wealth and influence, I was little more than an inconvenience to them. And as we unloaded the remnants of my former life into the storage unit, I felt the weight of their neglect bearing down on me, a burden I carried with me into an uncertain future. As the movers drove off, leaving me to face the stark reality of my situation, I gazed at the orderly array of boxes in the storage unit. Each one contained memories and possessions, now symbolizing the entirety of my existence. This was it – my entire life condensed into a confined space, a tangible manifestation of the upheaval that had swept through my world in a single day. Overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, I sank to the ground, tears streaming down my cheeks as emotions flooded over me. Time seemed to blur as I sat amidst my belongings, the weight of my newfound homelessness crashing down on me in relentless waves. In that moment of vulnerability, every suppressed feeling from the day – the abandonment, the betrayal, the uncertainty – converged, drowning me in a torrent of despair. I couldn't tell how long I stayed there, lost in the abyss of my anguish. All I knew was that this was my reality now – adrift in a sea of uncertainty, with nowhere to call home. As I closed the storage unit, a heavy sigh escaped my lips, mingling with the chill of the morning air. My backpack felt like a lifeline, its weight a reminder of the few possessions I still possessed. While my plans for the days ahead seemed meager, tinged with a sense of futility, I trudged along the bustling streets of New York City. Each step carried the weight of uncertainty, a burden I had grown accustomed to bearing alone. As I rounded a corner, my gaze inevitably fell upon the towering silhouette of the Sterntal Technologies skyscraper, its imposing presence etched into the city skyline. I knew every facet of that building all too well, a monument to the wealth and success my parents had achieved. Yet, it also symbolized the stark divide between their world of privilege and my own neglected existence. High above, on the top floor, lay the domain of Alexander and Victoria von Sterntal, my parents, seemingly peering down on me from their ivory tower. The shadow cast by their empire seemed to mirror the shadow they had cast over my life, leaving me in the darkness of their neglect. Shaking my head to dispel the troubling thoughts, I stepped into the warmth of a nearby cafe, seeking refuge from the chill of the city streets. Dwelling on the weight of my circumstances was a luxury I couldn't afford at the moment; practical matters demanded my attention. With each passing moment, the reality of my situation loomed larger—I didn't even have a place to rest my head for the night. The uncertainty gnawed at me, fueling a sense of urgency as I scanned the bustling cafe for a temporary respite from my troubles. Choosing a solitary spot by the expansive window, I couldn't help but feel drawn to the lone chair stationed beside the table. It seemed to mirror my own isolation, a silent companion in the midst of a crowded cafe. As I settled into the seat, I signaled the server and placed an order for a simple tea, mindful of my dwindling funds. The price felt steep for such a basic beverage, but I knew the cost was necessary to gain access to the cafe's WiFi—a lifeline in my current predicament. With a sense of resolve, I awaited my order, hoping that the warmth of the tea would offer some solace amidst the uncertainty of my circumstances. Taking a cautious sip of the steaming tea, I set my laptop upon the table and powered it up, the soft glow of the screen casting a comforting light in the dimly lit cafe. With a sense of determination, I delved into the task at hand, my fingers flying across the keyboard as I navigated through job listings and online applications. The simplicity of my plan belied the daunting reality of my situation—I was an 18-year-old with only a high school diploma, adrift in the competitive landscape of New York City's job market. Yet, despite the odds stacked against me, I poured all my energy into the search, knowing that every opportunity seized could mean the difference between survival and succumbing to the shadows of my circumstances. As I sifted through yet another round of discouraging rejection emails flooding my inbox, my focus was abruptly shattered by the boisterous entrance of a man engaged in a heated phone conversation. His voice carried above the ambient chatter of the cafe, drawing the attention of patrons with its intensity. Despite my initial reluctance to eavesdrop, I found myself inadvertently tuning in to his conversation, snippets of disdain toward a VIP client punctuating the air. Intrigued, I observed him as he made his way to the counter, his animated gestures betraying the gravity of his conversation. With a sense of curiosity, I couldn't help but wonder about the complexities of his world, momentarily distracted from the weight of my own struggles by the drama unfolding before me. Feigning engrossment in my laptop screen, I diverted my gaze as the man collected his coffee and turned in my direction. Discomfort prickled at the edges of my consciousness; I loathed the idea of being caught staring, a violation of the unspoken etiquette of public spaces. With practiced nonchalance, I buried myself in the facade of productivity, my fingers tracing absent patterns on the keyboard as I scrolled through meaningless content. As the man fell silent, a fleeting sense of dread coiled within me, only to be shattered by the resumption of his conversation moments later. Relief washed over me as he departed the cafe without so much as a second glance in my direction, leaving me to exhale a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The brief encounter served as a stark reminder of the delicate balance between privacy and observation in the bustling landscape of city life. As the hours slipped away, so too did the fragile tendrils of hope that had buoyed my spirits earlier in the day. Despite my best efforts, the job search yielded little more than a string of rejections, each one serving as a stark reminder of the uphill battle I faced in securing employment. With a heavy heart, I conceded to the reality of the situation—I had made little progress, and time was slipping away. Gathering my belongings and tucking my laptop securely into my backpack, I steeled myself for the next hurdle: finding shelter for the night. The uncertainty loomed large, casting a shadow over my already precarious existence, but I refused to succumb to despair. With determination fueling my steps, I pushed open the door of the cafe and stepped back out into the bustling streets of New York City. With a bag of chips clasped tightly in my hand, I embarked on a solitary journey through the labyrinth of city streets, my footsteps echoing against the pavement as I wandered aimlessly. The neon glow of storefronts illuminated the impending darkness, casting fleeting shadows that danced across the concrete. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, a constant reminder of the meager sustenance I had managed to scrounge up for dinner. Yet, as I roamed the unfamiliar terrain, a sense of helplessness washed over me, amplifying the weight of my circumstances. The prospect of renting a room or even a bed felt like an impossible luxury, far beyond the reach of my limited means. Lost in the sea of uncertainty, I struggled to discern a path forward, the cityscape looming around me like an insurmountable obstacle. Sitting down heavily on a bench, I sought solace in the simple act of munching on the salt-flavored chips, their flavor resembling the silent tears tracing paths down my cheeks. As I gazed into the distance, my eyes inevitably landed on the looming presence of the Sterntal Technologies skyscraper once again, its towering silhouette a constant reminder of my own inadequacy in the shadow of my parents' success. A surge of defiance rose within me, driving me to shake off the suffocating weight of helplessness that threatened to engulf me. With a resolute shake of my head, I refused to surrender to despair. Pushing myself upright, I continued to scour the streets for any glimmer of hope, a beacon amidst the darkness that threatened to consume me whole. Rounding a corner, my weary eyes alighted upon a surprisingly pristine alleyway nestled beside the imposing facade of a law firm. Shielded from the harsh gaze of the bustling street and buffered from the relentless gusts of wind that swept through the city, the alley offered a semblance of respite amidst the chaos of urban life. With darkness descending upon the cityscape and exhaustion weighing heavy upon my shoulders, I knew that this secluded alcove would have to suffice for the night. Despite the pang of discomfort that gnawed at my conscience, I resolved to make the best of the situation, clinging to the fleeting sense of security offered by the sheltered confines of the alleyway. With a weary sigh, I nestled against the unyielding coolness of the concrete wall, my jacket wrapped tightly around me in a feeble attempt to stave off the chill of the night air. Clutching my backpack to my chest like a lifeline, I sought solace in the familiar weight of my belongings, their presence a source of comfort amidst the uncertainty that loomed around me. As exhaustion weighed heavy upon my eyelids, I closed my eyes and allowed myself to drift into the welcoming embrace of sleep, the cacophony of the city fading into the background as I surrendered to the oblivion of slumber. In the solitude of the alleyway, I found a fleeting sense of peace, a respite from the trials and tribulations that had plagued me throughout the day. And so, beneath the watchful gaze of the moonlight, I surrendered myself to the darkness, seeking refuge in the sanctuary of dreams. Chapter 2 - John I woke up to the raucous symphony of the waking city, my body stiff and sore from the uncomfortable concrete floor of the alley. The cold seeped into my bones, a reminder of the unforgiving night that had passed. Determination surged within me as I made a mental note to invest in a sleeping bag, albeit a budget-friendly one. Luxury was a distant concept now. Every expense had to be carefully weighed against necessity, but not freezing to death seemed necessary enough. The distant rumble of a garbage truck echoed down the street, prompting me to glance towards the nearby dumpster that had offered me some semblance of privacy throughout the night. Taking it as my cue to depart, I pushed myself up from the cold concrete, aching muscles protesting the movement. With a determined resolve, I reaffirmed my plan for the day, the same as yesterday, unaltered despite the discomforts of the night. With my trusty backpack snug against my back, I traversed the bustling streets, a lone figure amidst the throngs of morning commuters. The aroma of freshly baked goods wafted from a nearby bakery, tempting me with its promise of sustenance. Yielding to the growling protest of my stomach, I indulged in a modest yet satisfying sandwich, procured with the meager funds at my disposal. Satiated, albeit temporarily, I continued on my journey, guided by a sense of familiarity towards the same cafe that had become my refuge the day before. Entering the cafe, I was greeted by a comforting wave of warmth and the familiar aroma of brewing coffee. It felt like a sanctuary amidst the chaos of my current circumstances. Glancing over to the corner where I had sat the day before, I breathed a sigh of relief to find it still vacant, my spot waiting for me like an old friend. With a sense of quiet determination, I settled into the familiar surroundings, ordering another one of the overpriced teas that had become a guilty pleasure amidst my frugality. Opening my laptop, I delved once more into the relentless task of scouring job listings, navigating the virtual labyrinth in search of a beacon of hope amidst the sea of rejections. It was a bitter irony that plagued my thoughts as I sifted through the digital landscape of job postings. The online forums, where praise flowed freely for my coding prowess, seemed worlds apart from the harsh reality of my current situation. Despite being self-taught and garnering accolades from virtual strangers, I had faltered in monetizing my skills, relegating them to the realm of mere hobbyism. Coding and gaming had long served as my refuge, a sanctuary from the tumultuous years of high school and the suffocating grip of loneliness. Yet, as I now grappled with the daunting task of securing employment to sustain myself, the weight of my perceived failure pressed down upon me like a suffocating blanket. If only my parents had told me sooner, I would’ve probably had something figured out by now. Lost in the labyrinth of my own thoughts, I found myself gazing absently out the window, the passing scenery a blur against the canvas of my mind. It was then that I noticed the familiar figure of the man from the day before, striding purposefully towards the entrance of the cafe. A pang of apprehension gripped me, prompting a swift diversion of my attention back to the glowing screen of my laptop. Tuning in to the ambient sounds of the cafe, I couldn't help but overhear his order, a simple request for a coffee to go, mirroring his routine from the previous day. A subtle sense of curiosity stirred within me, mingling with a tinge of unease as I pondered the significance of his presence once more. As I remained engrossed in my task of scouring job listings and dispatching applications into the digital void, the absence of the man's departure did not escape my notice. Despite his initial intention of ordering a coffee to go, the distinct lack of movement behind me hinted at his lingering presence within the confines of the cafe. Resolutely keeping my focus trained on the flickering glow of my laptop screen, I resisted the temptation to steal a glance over my shoulder, preferring to remain ensconced in my own world. Time drifted by in the steady rhythm of keystrokes and mouse clicks, punctuated only by the murmurs of other patrons and the occasional clink of ceramic against tabletops. It wasn't until a considerable while later that I observed his departure from the corner of my eye, his enigmatic presence departing as quietly as it had arrived. A fleeting curiosity stirred within me, fleeting thoughts of his peculiar aura and expensive attire crossing my mind before swiftly dissipating amidst the urgency of my own endeavors. As the day wore on and my focus waned, I made the decision to call it quits, at least for the time being. With a newfound determination fueled by a semblance of planning, I bid farewell to the comforting confines of the cafe and ventured back out into the bustling streets. Remembering the necessity of securing a sleeping bag for the impending night, I retraced my steps to the store I had spotted that morning. Scanning the shelves for the most budget-friendly option, I finally settled on the cheapest offering. Though it offered no protection against dampness, it was a small comfort knowing that it would stave off the biting cold, leaving me with enough funds to sustain myself with nourishment for a few more days to come. With a sense of resignation gnawing at my insides, I purchased another bag of chips, though acutely aware of their meager nutritional value. As I trudged back towards the alley that had become my makeshift refuge, I couldn't help but cast a glance towards the towering spire that housed my parents' corporate empire. Biting down on a chip, the taste a bitter reminder of my circumstances, I felt a surge of despair welling within me. The sight of their skyscraper loomed over me like a mocking specter, a constant reminder of the chasm that separated us, both physically and emotionally. With clenched teeth and a fervent hope burning within my chest, I prayed that this dismal routine would soon become nothing more than a painful memory of a bygone era. As the sun dipped below the horizon and the biting chill of the night descended upon the city, I nestled into the familiarity of my chosen spot within the alley. With the thin barrier of the sleeping bag offering a modicum of warmth, I settled down, leaning against my backpack for a semblance of comfort. Tears welled in my eyes, tracing silent pathways down my cheeks, as the crushing weight of my predicament enveloped me once more. In the darkness, surrounded by the echoes of solitude, I felt the suffocating embrace of hopelessness tighten its grip around my heart. Yet, amidst the despair, a flicker of determination burned within me, a stubborn refusal to surrender to the engulfing darkness. Clinging to that glimmer of resilience like a lifeline, I vowed silently to myself that I would not succumb, that I would persevere against the odds, no matter how insurmountable they seemed. For in the depths of my despair, I found a resolve that whispered fiercely in the silence: I could not give up. I would not give up. As I stirred from my fitful slumber, the city had already sprung to life around me, its bustling energy a stark contrast to the quiet solitude of the alley. Despite the persistent ache that clung to my body like a lingering shadow, I couldn't help but acknowledge the small comfort afforded by the sleeping bag wrapped around me. Unlike the previous night, the shivers that had plagued me were noticeably absent. The sleeping bag had proven to be a worthwhile investment. With a weary yet grateful sigh, I rose to my feet and carefully packed up my sleeping bag, folding it neatly as I prepared to face another day. Embracing the familiarity of my newfound routine, I steeled myself for the challenges that lay ahead. As I retraced the familiar steps of my routine, grabbing the same sandwich from the same bakery and making my way to the same cafe, I couldn't help but marvel at the swiftness with which humans could fall into patterns. Yet, upon entering the cafe, the comfort of routine shattered in an instant. Seated at my usual spot in front of the window, in the corner, was the enigmatic man who had piqued my curiosity the days before. His gaze was fixed out the window, lost in thought as he sipped on his coffee. A sense of intrigue tinged with apprehension washed over me as I hesitated in the doorway, uncertain of how to proceed in the wake of this unexpected disruption to my routine. With a resentful glance at the man's back, I took a seat behind him, my frustration simmering beneath the surface as I ordered my tea and opened my laptop to resume my job hunt. Sighing heavily, I couldn't help but feel the weight of disappointment as I sifted through the slew of new rejections that had flooded my inbox. Another day stretching out before me, seemingly destined to end in the same vein of fruitless endeavors and dashed hopes. Lost in the rhythm of typing out applications, I was jolted from my focus by the subtle stirrings of the man in front of me. Ignoring the uneasy feeling creeping up my spine, I kept my gaze fixed firmly on the screen, hoping to avoid any unwanted interactions. Yet, despite my efforts to feign indifference, I could sense his probing gaze boring into me, a silent weight that I could no longer ignore. After what felt like an eternity of silent scrutiny, I relented, lifting my eyes from the screen to meet his gaze. To my surprise, he had moved closer, now sitting directly in front of me, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "Hi, I'm John," he said, extending a hand in greeting, but I remained rigid, my gaze locked in a glare, still nursing my resentment for his disruption of my routine. His attempt at cordiality was met with my silent rebuke. "All right, all right," he continued, his tone laced with a hint of apology, "I apologize for taking your spot, but I needed an excuse to talk to you." His words hung in the air, punctuated by the weight of his admission. Despite my lingering irritation, a flicker of curiosity sparked within me, compelling me to lower my guard ever so slightly. "That's a pretty bad excuse," I retorted sharply, my glare unwavering as I remained guarded. "Yeah, probably," he chuckled in response, his admission punctuated by a hint of self-awareness. Yet, before I could respond further, he continued, his demeanor shifting to a more serious tone. "Anyway, I wanted to make you an offer," he stated, his eyes appraising me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "And I think you'd be perfect for this." Despite my lingering apprehension, the mention of an offer piqued my curiosity, stirring a mixture of intrigue and caution within me. His lingering gaze, however, remained a discomforting reminder of the unease that still lingered between us. "What kind of offer?" I inquired, raising an eyebrow in suspicion as he smirked in response, a gesture that already grated on my nerves. "It's something I can't talk about in detail here, but it will be very profitable for you and you seem perfect for this," he replied, his gaze lingering on me in a way that made me uneasy. He jotted down his phone number on a piece of paper and slid it across the table before standing up. "I bet you could really use some money right now," he remarked, his eyes trailing over to my backpack and sleeping bag beside me, sending a chill down my spine. As he made his exit from the cafe, he spoke once more, his parting words hanging in the air like a weight upon my shoulders. "Give me a ring, Miss von Sterntal," he said, the mention of my name sending a jolt of mortification through me. I watched in silence as he left the cafe, his words echoing in my mind, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable in their wake. As I sat there, grappling with the unsettling revelation that dawned upon me, I pieced together the puzzle in my mind. He had been watching me, studying my every move. Perhaps he had glanced over my shoulder yesterday, observing the desperation with which I scoured job listings and sifted through rejection letters. My name, Felicity von Sterntal, had undoubtedly been revealed through the numerous applications I had submitted, a detail he could have easily gleaned. And the presence of the sleeping bag, a symbol of my desperation and downtrodden circumstances, likely provided him with the final confirmation he needed. It became painfully clear that I must have appeared to him as the perfect victim for whatever scheme he was plotting. The realization sent a chill down my spine, a wave of vulnerability washing over me as I grappled with the unsettling implications of his calculated observation. With a sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach, I resolved to proceed with caution, wary of the dangers that lurked beneath the surface of his enticing offer. As I continued to sift through job offers, the memory of John and his mysterious offer lingered in the recesses of my mind like a persistent whisper. Despite the reservations gnawing at my conscience, I couldn't shake the allure of his seemingly affluent demeanor and the enigmatic promise he had made. His professional attire and confident demeanor bespoke a level of wealth and influence that was undeniably intriguing, especially for someone who appeared to be in his late twenties. Yet, as I found myself briefly succumbing to the fleeting temptation, a resolute determination surged within me. I shook my head. I refused to entertain the notion of compromising my principles, even in the face of such uncertainty and desperation. The thought of possibly engaging in anything of a sexual nature for monetary gain was quickly dismissed, my self-worth and dignity too precious to be bartered away. Also it’s not like I have any sexual experience anyway. However, despite my resolve, a speck of curiosity about John and his mysterious offer lingered in the recesses of my mind. As I continued to sift through job offers, his presence remained a lingering question mark, tugging at the edges of my consciousness with a persistent allure that I couldn't quite shake. The day dragged on, each passing moment marked by the familiar sting of disappointment as my efforts yielded no success. Despite the mysterious interruption earlier, I quickly regained my focus, returning to the monotonous routine of job hunting. A while later, seated in the same spot, beneath the looming shadow of the skyscraper that towered above me and reminded me of my past, I found myself lost in thought, munching on the same kind of chips that had become a staple of my meager diet. As I chewed on the familiar salty snack, the memories of the past days flooded through me, a relentless tide of reminders of my struggles and setbacks. The relentless cycle of uncertainty weighed heavily on my mind, a constant reminder of the uphill battle I faced in clawing my way out of the depths of despair. Amidst the turmoil of my thoughts, a simple realization emerged: I needed to break free from the confines of this repetitive existence, starting with something as simple as changing my dinner menu for tomorrow. With a heavy sigh, I rose from my seat and began the familiar trek towards my secluded alley. As I passed by the office of the law firm, now a fixture in my daily surroundings, I couldn't help but steal a longing glance through the windows, pondering the lives of those within. Lost in idle daydreams, my attention was abruptly shattered when I found myself locking eyes with a man about to step into an elevator at the back of the lobby. It was John, and to my horror, he had noticed me too. Panic surged through me like a tidal wave, flushing my cheeks with embarrassment as I hastily averted my gaze and bolted around the corner, seeking refuge in the safety of my alley sanctuary. The encounter left me rattled, a knot of apprehension coiling in the pit of my stomach as I grappled with the unsettling implications of our unexpected meeting. Exhaustion weighed heavily upon me as I settled into my makeshift resting place behind the dumpster, seeking solace in the refuge of sleep. Yet, despite my weariness, rest proved elusive as I found myself caught in a hazy limbo between wakefulness and slumber. Memories of the day swirled around in my mind like a tumultuous whirlwind, refusing to grant me the respite I so desperately sought, leaving me in a disorienting haze where they swirled like fragments of a fractured reality. Amidst the fog of my memories, John's face emerged intermittently, a haunting presence that lingered on the fringes of my consciousness. Despite my best efforts to find respite in sleep, his haunting gaze seemed to follow me into the realm of dreams, casting a shadow of unease over the fragile sanctuary of my thoughts. And so, I remained suspended in a daze, trapped in the liminal space between consciousness and oblivion, grappling with the unsettling echoes of the day's events that refused to be silenced. As I drifted on the precipice of sleep, I was violently yanked back into consciousness by the sensation of someone shaking me with rough urgency. With a gasp, my eyes flew open to behold two looming figures, their silhouettes cast in stark relief against the feeble glow of the street lantern that pierced the darkness of the alley. A scream tore from my throat, raw and primal, as fear surged through every fiber of my being, rendering me paralyzed in shock. Tears streamed down my face in torrents, blurring my vision as I trembled uncontrollably, a helpless captive to the terror that gripped me in its merciless embrace. Frozen in place, I could do naught but gaze up at the looming shadows, consumed by a suffocating sense of vulnerability in the face of the unknown. "Hey girl, give us all of your money!" one of the figures demanded, their voice dripping with menace as a sinister smirk danced upon their lips, barely visible in the dim illumination of the street lantern. "I-I-I don't have a-any," I managed to stammer out through trembling lips, my voice barely above a whisper as tears continued to stream down my face, betraying my overwhelming fear. Before I could even comprehend their next move, they lunged forward, seizing my backpack from my grasp with ruthless efficiency. Despite my feeble attempts to resist, I found myself held down by unseen hands, rendered powerless by the shock that still held me captive in its grip. Helplessly, I watched as they emptied the contents of my backpack onto the cold pavement, their greedy hands sifting through my meager belongings with callous disregard. Each item strewn haphazardly before me served as a stark reminder of the fragility of my existence, a harsh testament to the cruelty of fate in a world that showed no mercy to the downtrodden. "HEY!" a voice suddenly pierced the tense air, echoing through the alleyway as the sound of running footsteps grew louder. "What's going on here? Leave her alone!" the voice thundered with authority, sending a shiver down my spine. "Oh shit, let's go," one of the figures muttered to the other, their panicked voices barely audible over the pounding of my heart. With swift movements, they fled towards the other end of the alley, their forms disappearing into the darkness as they vanished from sight. The mysterious man, who had come to my rescue, pursued them briefly before coming to a halt, realizing they were already out of reach. With a heavy exhale, he turned his attention back to me, his gaze softening as he took in the sight before him. I remained huddled atop my sleeping bag, my face buried in my knees which I clutched tightly to my chest. Shivers wracked my body as tears streamed down my cheeks, mingling with the remnants of fear that still lingered in the air. My meager belongings lay strewn around me, a pitiful testament to the vulnerability that had been laid bare in the face of danger. "Miss von Sterntal?" The words escaped the mysterious man's lips in a gasp of recognition, his hand instinctively rising to cover his mouth as he took in the sight before him. My eyes lifted for the first time, meeting his gaze, and the realization washed over me like a tidal wave. "John?" I spoke up, my voice barely above a whisper as a flood of emotions threatened to overwhelm me. Too many thoughts and feelings raced through my mind at once, leaving me reeling in the aftermath of the harrowing ordeal. In that moment, as our eyes locked in a silent exchange of understanding, the boundaries between us blurred, and I found myself clinging to the unexpected connection that had emerged between us in the midst of chaos. Chapter 3 - Luxury John crouched in front of me, his concern etched on his face. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?" he asked, his voice gentle yet firm. I shook my head weakly, huddling closer to my knees on the sleeping bag. His eyes scanned the alleyway, taking in the scattered contents of my backpack. "Is this where you've been staying?" he inquired, his tone filled with both curiosity and concern. I nodded silently, feeling a rush of shame at the admission. "I'm sorry you had to see me like this," I murmured, unable to meet his gaze. "I'll just gather my things and leave." As I started to clumsily gather my belongings and was about to stand up from my spot, I noticed the puddle underneath me and the wet clammy feeling of my pants. I must've wet myself out of fear. My face blushed crimson as another pang of shame overcame me. My pace quickened in an effort to get out of this situation as quickly as possible. "Felicity, wait," John said as he gently grabbed my arm, preventing me from packing any further. "Feli," I corrected softly, feeling a wave of vulnerability wash over me as I avoided his gaze. "I like Feli more," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. Slowly, I lifted my eyes to meet his, noticing the genuine concern etched into his expression. He released my arm, realizing he had my attention. "Listen, Feli," John began, his eyes holding mine with a mix of gentleness and authority. "I don't know exactly what your deal is, but I can see you're down on your luck. And I'm sure you have nowhere else to go, right?" he continued, his tone soft yet probing. I nodded meekly, feeling a knot form in my stomach as he scratched the stubble on his chin, his gaze sweeping over the scene before us. "I don't like intruding," he admitted, and I couldn't help but chuckle softly at his remark, recalling our awkward encounter in the café. "But I can't leave a young girl like you out on the streets like this." I looked down, feeling a fresh wave of shame wash over me, making me feel even more vulnerable. "How about you come to my place for tonight? I've got a guest room where you can clean up and get some rest." His gaze fell on the puddle underneath me, and I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "Does that sound good?" John asked, his voice tinged with concern. I hesitated for a moment, weighing my options. Despite my apprehension, the thought of a shower and a bed was too tempting to resist. I nodded meekly, realizing I had little choice but to trust him for now. With a sense of gratitude mingled with uncertainty, I allowed John to help me pack up my few belongings. Together, we made our way down the alley towards the street where a car was waiting for him, ready to take me to a place that was entirely unfamiliar yet offered a glimmer of hope in the darkness of the night. As we settled into the backseat of the car, the driver spoke up from the front. "Good evening, Mr. Harrington. Am I still bringing you back to your place?" he inquired, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. "Yes, please bring us home, Chuck," John confirmed, his voice carrying a note of weariness. The level of wealth where you could afford your own personal driver wasn't foreign to me, but it had been quite a few years since I'd experienced it firsthand. I sighed softly as I slumped back into my seat, feeling the uncomfortable wetness of my pants clinging to me, the exhaustion of the encounter finally catching up with me. As we passed through the bustling streets of NYC, my head rested against the cool window, my gaze fixed on the vibrant lights of the nightlife swirling by in a blur of colors and motion. A mix of uncertainty and hope tugged at my mind, a feeling that had become all too familiar to me lately. Amidst the chaos of the city, I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead for me in this unexpected turn of events. We entered the underground garage, bidding farewell to Chuck as he drove off. The dimly lit space felt strangely quiet after the chaos of the city streets. Following John, we made our way to an elevator, and he pressed the topmost button. The realization dawned on me that John's wealth surpassed what I had initially assumed, a notion that left me both impressed and apprehensive. As we ascended in the elevator, a sense of awkwardness settled between us, the silence punctuated only by the soft hum of the machinery. Finally, the doors opened, revealing a narrow hallway with just one door at the end. A penthouse, I surmised, my heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and trepidation. John opened the door, inviting me into a world I had thought I would never see again. "Make yourself at home," John said, leading us through a small entryway into a sprawling living space. My eyes widened in awe as I took in the grandeur of the room. A luxurious couch sat in front of a massive TV atop a faux fireplace, exuding an air of opulence. One wall was dominated by a floor-to-ceiling window, offering a breathtaking view of the city below. I couldn't help but grimace as I spotted my parents' skyscraper in the distance, a stark reminder of the world I had left behind. An archway led to a spacious kitchen and dining area on one side of the room, while a few steps ascended to a corridor on the other. John guided me down the corridor and opened the first door on his right, revealing the large guest room. A queen-size bed occupied one wall, with a TV mounted opposite and a dresser beneath. In one corner, an en-suite awaited, offering a welcome respite from the chaos of the streets. "There's shower gel, towels, and spare toothbrushes. Do you need anything else?" John asked, his voice filled with genuine concern. I shook my head, still stunned by the luxury and overwhelmed with gratitude. "Alright, I'll let you get cleaned up then," he said, turning to leave before pausing. "Oh, and are you hungry?" My stomach growled involuntarily, betraying my hunger. I was about to decline, not wanting to impose, but John's grin softened my resolve. "I'll make some sandwiches. Just join me in the kitchen when you're done," he said, offering a glimmer of warmth in the midst of uncertainty. With that, he left the en-suite, closing the door behind him, leaving me to soak in the surreal reality of my surroundings. As the warm water cascaded over me in the shower, washing away the grime and weariness of the night, a sense of clarity began to seep back into my mind. "I guess now I have to at least hear him out on his offer," I mumbled to myself, the words echoing in the solitude of the bathroom. Stepping out of the shower, I dried myself off and donned a shirt and sweatpants from my backpack, feeling a semblance of comfort return with each familiar garment. With hesitant steps, I made my way towards the kitchen, where John sat at the dining table, enjoying a sandwich. An identical one sat on a plate opposite him, awaiting my arrival. I sat down, muttering a quiet "Thank you," before taking a bite of the sandwich, savoring the simple pleasure of a warm meal. As I ate, John began to speak, his voice calm yet determined. "Alright, here's the deal," he started, pausing between bites. "I'll let you stay the night and get some rest, and I'll be gone already when you wake up tomorrow." He continued, outlining my options for the following day. "Either you leave before I'm back from work, and I'll leave you alone from now on," he explained, his gaze searching mine for any hint of reaction. "Or you decide to stay and hear out my offer when I come home from work." I swallowed my bite of sandwich, considering his words carefully. "Why don't you just tell me about the offer right now?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. But John shook his head, his expression unreadable. "I can't," he replied firmly. "Not yet, at least. But I can tell you tomorrow evening. You're still free to decline once you've heard it, however." I nodded in understanding, realizing that there was more to this offer than met the eye. With a sense of anticipation tinged with apprehension, I finished my sandwich, knowing that the following day would bring with it a decision that could change the course of my life. "Go and get some rest," John commanded, his tone firm yet not unkind, as he cleared away our plates and brought them to the kitchen. I couldn't help but feel a shiver run down my spine at his authoritative demeanor, but in the face of his generosity, I complied with his request nonetheless. As I settled into the plush comfort of the bed, the warmth enveloping me like a gentle embrace, I made a silent vow to myself. I wouldn't let fear or uncertainty hold me back any longer. I would hear him out the next day, whatever his offer may be. "I just really, really hope it's nothing sexual," I whispered to myself, the words lingering in the quiet of the room as I drifted off to sleep, my mind filled with thoughts of the unknown future that awaited me. I woke up the next day, feeling surprisingly refreshed after a restful night's sleep. As I stretched and shook off the remnants of sleep, a sense of vitality surged through me. It had been a while since I had slept so well. Venturing out of the guest room, I found myself alone in the spacious apartment. John had already left, as he had promised. I made my way to the living room, drawn by the allure of the sprawling cityscape visible through the window. The sight of the Sterntal Technologies skyscraper in the distance stirred a mix of emotions within me, a constant reminder of my past. "Make yourself at home," John's words echoed in my mind, and I resolved to do just that. Pushing aside the thoughts of my parents, I strode into the kitchen, where a delicious breakfast awaited me. The aroma of bacon, eggs, and pancakes filled the air, making my mouth water in anticipation. To my surprise, there was a small note waiting for me on the table. "Make yourself at home. I'll be back at 6. See you then! -J," it read, a simple yet thoughtful gesture. I couldn't help but wonder if John already knew that I would stay to hear him out. With gratitude in my heart, I sat down and began to savor the hearty breakfast, allowing myself to indulge in the simple pleasures of the moment, grateful for the warmth and hospitality that John had extended to me. As the hours passed by, I found myself unable to shake off the nervous anticipation that gripped me like a vice. Despite my initial intention to relax and enjoy the comforts of John's penthouse, the looming uncertainty of the evening weighed heavily on my mind. I tried to distract myself by flipping through channels on the TV, but my attention kept drifting back to the impending conversation with John. What could his offer possibly be? And more importantly, what would it mean for my future? With each passing minute, my nerves seemed to intensify, the unknown stretching out before me like an endless abyss. Despite my best efforts to quell my anxieties, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of my stomach, reminding me of the high stakes of the decision that awaited me. I was sprawled out on the couch, a large glass of juice sitting on the table in front of me when I heard the front door open. Glancing at the clock, I realized it was only 5 pm. Curious, I craned my neck to peer over the back of the couch toward the entryway, where a woman emerged carrying two bags of groceries. Our gazes met, and a moment of surprise passed between us. "Oh, hello, miss..." she began, expecting me to fill in the pause with my name. "Feli," I replied, offering a small smile. "Okay, Miss Feli, my apologies. I didn't know Mr. Harrington had a guest over," she continued, her tone polite yet curious. I chuckled softly at that. "It's just Feli," I clarified, feeling a pang of discomfort at the formalities. "That's short for Felicity." She nodded in understanding, her warm smile never faltering. "Who are you?" I questioned, returning the inquiry. "Call me Marge," she replied with a friendly smile, radiating a sense of maternal warmth. "I'm here to cook dinner for Mr. Harrington... and you, I guess?" she explained, her tone tinged with uncertainty. "I guess so," I replied with a shrug, watching as she excused herself to the kitchen to begin her work. As the minutes ticked by, I found it increasingly difficult to focus on the TV, my nerves getting the better of me. The tantalizing aroma wafting from the kitchen only served to heighten my anticipation, each passing moment feeling like an eternity. Then, at precisely 6:05 pm, the front door swung open once again. "Feli, I'm home," John called out, his voice carrying a sense of warmth and familiarity. I couldn't help but marvel at how confident he seemed that I would stay, a realization that brought a small smile to my lips as our gazes met. Despite my lingering nerves, I felt a wave of relief wash over me at the sight of him. His warm smile was infectious, filling me with a sense of comfort and reassurance. While uncertainty still loomed on the horizon, the curiosity about his offer outweighed any lingering apprehension. I returned his smile, genuinely happy to see him. As he made his way toward me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected turn of events that had led me here. Whatever lay ahead, I was determined not to miss out on the opportunity that lay before me, embracing the luxury and possibility that surrounded me in John's penthouse. Marge emerged from the kitchen just as John grabbed the TV remote and switched off the TV. "Did she behave?" he asked, his gaze directed at Marge. I felt a blush rise to my cheeks as he spoke over my head about me. "Yes, Sir, Miss Feli behaved like an angel," Marge replied with a warm smile, her eyes flickering between John and me. We both chuckled at her formal address using my nickname, but I couldn't help but feel puzzled by their conversation. Why were they discussing my behavior as if I weren't in the room? And why did Marge feel the need to comment on it when we had barely interacted since she arrived? "Good to hear," John replied, grinning down at me with that mischievous twinkle in his eyes that I had come to detest. "Dinner is served, Sir," Marge announced politely, breaking the momentary silence. "Thank you, Marge. You're excused," John replied, and Marge quickly gathered her things and left the penthouse. As John and I made our way toward the dining table, I couldn't shake the lingering sense of unease that had settled over me, a feeling that this dinner would bring with it more than just good food and polite conversation. We ate in silence for a while, savoring the delicious meal that Marge had prepared for us. The flavors danced on my tongue, and for a moment, I allowed myself to forget about the weight of the impending conversation. John broke the silence as he took a sip from his glass of wine, his expression warm and genuine. "I'm glad you decided to stay," he said, his smile reaching his eyes. I felt a blush creep up my cheeks at his words. "Well, the least I could do is hear you out after you've been so nice to me," I mumbled back, my voice barely above a whisper. I took another forkful of the heavenly food, grateful for the distraction it provided from the nervous tension that lingered between us. As John returned with two sets of papers and a pen, my heart skipped a beat at the sight. The weight of the moment hit me like a ton of bricks, the reality of the situation sinking in with each passing second. Just moments ago, it had all felt like a dream, but now, faced with the official-looking documents in front of me, it was undeniably real. He sat down opposite me, presenting one set of papers while holding onto the other. I could feel the tension in the air as he explained, "This is an NDA, a Non-Disclosure Agreement you need to sign. Once you've signed this, I can sue you if you tell anyone about what you're going to hear today. Marge also had to sign one before working for me." My throat went dry as I glanced over the paper, knowing full well the gravity of what I was about to agree to. I knew I needed to read it thoroughly before putting pen to paper. Skimming through the document, I confirmed that it was indeed just an NDA, outlining the terms of confidentiality regarding the information I was about to receive. Satisfied that I understood its contents, I took a deep breath and put my signature at the bottom of the page. Looking up at John expectantly, I braced myself for whatever revelation awaited me. As John placed the other set of papers in front of me, I felt a surge of apprehension coursing through me. But before I could even glance at the documents, he kept his hand on them and locked eyes with me, his gaze warm and sincere. "Now that you've signed the NDA, I can tell you about the offer," he began, his voice steady yet tinged with a hint of anticipation. My heart hammered in my chest, and I could feel the nervous energy building inside me as I awaited his next words. "Long story short: I want you to become my baby for a month," he stated, the words hanging in the air between us like an electric charge. My mind reeled at the unexpectedness of his proposition, and I struggled to comprehend the full implications of what he was suggesting.

Hey guys, ifs been about 3 years since I wore diapers, but I recently got back into it and I ordered some patterned diapers I liked for now, but now after using one again I am looking into ordering a big box. Since I now have no rent going forward for a few years, I have more money to spend...elsewhere (hehe) so I was wondering what would you guys recommend? I'm looking for the best i can get for the fairest price for a bag, but I'm also open to suggestions of any kind. I only wet, so that's my main priority. I want it to be comfortable and able to hold a lot (preferably without smelling). I don't mind wrinkles, often I enjoy them; but I'm not necessarily looking for that. Just mainly comfortable, leak proof, can hold a lot, and I'd prefer patterned ones of some kind. Though I'm okay with blank ones as i can always draw my own designs. Anyways I'm off to finish filling this tie-dye-per to the brim and head to bed

So recently I have been engaging with Novel AI to generate ABDL stories, Well text adventures to be precise. I have really enjoyed them and thought I might post one as a story as well as the components I used to create it. The story itself will be posted raw and unedited, so it might not make perfect sense at times. I am also using the text adventure mode so it will often repeat my prompt in the body of the AI generated content. I am using as my base scenario, the plot from my older story Divorce proceedings. It is set in the diaper dimension. I really kept the inputs to a minimum. What I am looking for is: 1.) Tell me if this was enjoyable to read. 2.) Suggestions for inclusions in "Memory" and "Author's note" (I really did not know what to put in author's note) 2.) Suggestions for the "Lore Book" to better flesh out the Diaper Dimension. Thank you in advance for reading and for your feedback. Memory: Tags: diapers, ABDL, Femdom, hypnosis, forced regression, bondage, forced feminization Genre: erotic sci-fi thriller Synopsis: You are a male Little in your 20’s. Your wife, also a little, wants to divorce you, however she has decided that it would be better for you to be forcibly adopted by an Amazon which would leave her with all of your marital assets. She has after drugging you, dressed you up as an adorable sissy baby. She then intends to leave you in a public place where an Amazon may decide to make your their baby. You are trying to avoid being adopted and forcibly regressed into a baby. Lore Book Entries: ---- Amazonia: The alternate dimension that is populated by Bigs, Mids and Littles. Everything in the world is scaled for Bigs. The society possess advanced technology such as robots, solid holograms and nanobots. Much of this technology is used to keep adopted Littles as babies. Bigs have the right to forcibly adopt Littles and treat them as their own babies. There are laws in place to protect Littles but if a Little displays any sign of immaturity they lose those protections can can be freely adopted. Examples of behavior include wetting or messing pants, throwing a tantrum, making a mess while eating. Etc. Tourists may come from other dimensions to visit and they are often preyed upon by Bigs looting for a Little to Adopt. Activation keys: Amazonia, Dimension ---- Bigs: The dominant race on the planet. They average 10 to 12 feet tall. They have a strong desire to treat Littles as babies. They will constantly look for an excuse to force a Little into babyhood. Activation Keys: Bigs, Amazon, Giants ---- Littles: A race of people generally under 6 feet tall. They develop normally as adult but are often propelled into forced babyhood by Amazons. They have strong sexual response to stimulation. Orgasms for Littles are usually very powerful and leave the Little tired and drained of energy. Activation Key: Little ---- Tweeners: People between 6 and 9 feet tall. Generally treated as adults or older children. Occasionally forcibly babied as preschoolers. Similar to Littles they cannot show any sign of immaturity. Activation keys: Mids, Tweeners, ---- Breastmilk: Amazon breast milk has the following effects on Littles and Mids. 1.) Tastes incredible. 2.) Addictive, 3.) causes bladder incontinence 4.) Causes an intoxicating feeling or milk haze 5.) Causes arousal in Littles Activation keys: Milk, bottle, baba, Nurse, unbutton blouse, expose nipple Adventure: Part 1 You slowly start to wake up not knowing where you are. You feel strange and realize you are dressed in a diaper and a little pink jumper. You open your eyes and the first thing you notice is that the world has changed and now there are Amazons walking around you. > You feel a flash of panic and look around to figure out where you are. You start to panic and look around to try to find out where you are. It is clear from your surroundings that you are at a rest area along a major highway. The rest area has a building with facilities and a number of parking spots for cars. > You look down at your outfit. The diaper and jumper are clearly visible. The diaper looks like it has a design of little teddy bears on it. The jumper is bright pink and has the word baby written in large letters. > You think back to the argument you had with your wife last night. You have a vague recollection of the two of you arguing about something but it was late and the both of you were tired so the argument did not last long. > You feel a vibration in your pocket and pull out a small cell phone. You grab your cell phone from your pocket. It is an older flip style phone. > You open the phone and answer it. You answer the phone and hold it up to your ear. > You ask "Hello?" You say hello but no one responds. You can hear breathing on the other end. "Hello? Who is this?" There is a giggle from the other end of the line and then the call is disconnected. > You check the caller ID. The number is unknown. > You dial your wife’s number. You dial your wife's number but the call goes straight to voicemail. > You feel the buzz of an incoming text. You flip your phone open to check the text message. The message reads "You have been a very naughty boy. I am going to leave you at the rest stop and an Amazon can make you her little baby." > You type back “who is this?”. You quickly type back a message. "Who is this? Where am I? What is going on?" The text comes back immediately. "I think you know what is going on. You should not have been such a bad husband. It is time to leave you here to fend for yourself." > You type back “Jane this isn’t funny. I could be in real danger here.”. "This is not Jane. I think you know that. You really should have been a better husband. If you had been, she would not have brought you to the rest stop to be a gift to the first Amazon who finds you." > You type back “ who is this?”. "I am not going to tell you that. I want you to enjoy the suspense." > You type you are not going to get away with this. "I already have gotten away with it. You are dressed as a baby and waiting for an Amazon to find you." > You swallow hard knowing the person on the other end of the phone is probably right. You swallow hard, realizing the person on the other end of the line is correct. > You type you are going to get out of this and when you do you are coming for you. You quickly type back a threat. "If you do not tell me who this is, I am going to get out of this and when I do, I am going to find you." The response is quick. "That is what I am hoping. I want to see you dressed like a sissy baby begging me to let you out of the nursery. Then I want to put you in diapers and treat you like the sissy baby you are." > You want to throw the phone but resist the urge. You want to throw the phone, but resist the urge. > You look at the phone and realize it is child locked and won’t let you call or text other numbers. The phone is locked. You cannot call or text anyone other than your wife. > You take a deep breath. you need to come up with a plan. You need to come up with a plan. Your main concern right now is avoiding being seen. > You peek out of your current hiding place. You peek out of the bushes and see that the rest area is not very busy. There are a couple of women talking to each other in front of their cars and a couple of women walking towards the bathrooms. > You are clearly in Amazon country as the women are amazons. you look around hoping to maybe find an Adult Little. The women are Amazons. You look around but cannot see any adult little ones. > You look around for any clues as to where you may be. The rest area is well maintained and appears to have been recently remodeled. There are a few picnic tables and some trash cans. The parking lot is full of cars, but most of the drivers appear to be Amazons. > You think about stealing a car. You consider stealing a car but quickly dismiss the idea. You have no idea how to steal a car, and even if you could, the police would likely be on the lookout for a stolen car in a short time. > You check your pockets to see if you have any money or identification or anything like that. You have no money or identification. The only thing you have is the cell phone. > You examine the diaper. The diaper is made from thick white cloth. It is very comfortable. > You keep looking for anyone who might be able to help you. You continue to look around but cannot see anyone who can help you. > You decide you need more information about where you are. You want to try to nonchalantly make your way to the information center. You decide you need more information about where you are, and then you want to try to nonchalantly make your way towards the restrooms. > You keep a sharp eye out and try to not draw attention to yourself. You keep a sharp eye out for any trouble and try to stay out of sight. > You look for a public phone. The rest area has a payphone located near the restrooms. It appears to be a bit rusty, but it should work. > You look at the phone realizing it is sized for Amazons and that you cannot reach the buttons. You are unable to reach the phone due to its height. > You go to look at the large map on the wall to figure out where you are. You walk over to the wall and examine the map. The rest area is located on a major highway between two large cities. > You know that cities will usually have a Littles district where you might be able to get help. The cities are not that far away. If you were able to find a car, you could be there in an hour. > You decide walking along the road would be too dangerous. Your attention is focused on the map. Walking along the road would be too dangerous. > You are relieved that no one seems to be paying attention to you and you go to leave the building. You are glad no one seems to be paying any attention to you. > You head back outside, you are looking for a car being driven by a little or maybe even a tweener. You decide to try to find a car driven by a little. > You try to stay out of sight while you wait. You decide to hide behind a tree. > You’re hear a friendly voice of another little behind you. You are startled and turn around to see a young woman wearing a babydoll dress and a diaper. She is holding a pacifier in her mouth. { The little girl is regressed and sees you as a potential playmate. } What do you want to say to the little girl? > You try to shoo her away. You try to shoo her away, but she does not seem to be listening. > You say "Please I don’t want to play." You say "Please, I don't want to play." "Go and find someone else." "Don't you have friends at school or something?" > You wait for her to respond. She takes the pacifier out of her mouth and says, "But I don't have any friends. All the other little girls in my class are mean to me." "I'm sorry, but I'm not interested in playing with a little girl." "I don't have any toys or games, so I can't play with you." "Can't you just go and find someone else to play with?" "Look, I'm not a baby. I'm an adult." > You watch as she looks at you with puzzled look. She looks at you with a puzzled expression. "But you're dressed like a baby. And you're wearing a diaper. And you're sucking on a pacifier." "You're not an adult, you're a Little." > You say "I am not sucking a pacifier. And a Little can be an adult." You are not sucking a pacifier. "Yes, a Little can be an adult. But you don't look like an adult. You look like a baby." > You say "I know which is why it is very important that I get to the Littles district in Springfield." "I know, which is why it is very important that I get to the Littles district in Springfield." "I really need to find a ride there." "You don't happen to know anyone who could give me a ride, do you?" "It's really important." "I don't know anyone, and I don't have a car. > You ask "Figures. You don’t by any chance have any boy clothes you could loan me. Do you?" You ask, "Figures. Do you by any chance have any boy clothes you could loan me?" "Sure," she says. "I have a few things that might fit you. But you'll have to wear a diaper. > You say "Why would I have to wear a diaper. I am potty trained." "Why would I have to wear a diaper, I'm potty trained." "That would be great, thanks." "Well, it's not my fault you're dressed like a baby," she says. > You say "I am not a baby." "I'm not a baby, I'm an adult," you say. "Sure you are," she says. "I'll be right back," she says, and disappears into the bathroom. > You wait patiently. You wait for her to return. "Here you go," she says, holding out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. > You look at the clothes. The shorts are a bit small for you, and the shirt is a little tight, but they're better than nothing. "Thanks," you say, putting the clothes on. > You ask "Can you help me get this diaper off?" You ask, "Can you help me get this diaper off?" "I can't, it's not supposed to come off," she says. > You ask "Oh god yes it is. Maybe you can help me open up the diaper pins?" "Oh, God yes, it is. Maybe you can help me open up the diaper pins," "I can't, it's not supposed to be opened," she says. > You can tell she has been brainwashed to think that diapers shouldn’t be removed. "I think someone brainwashed you into thinking diapers can't be removed," "That's ridiculous," she says. > You struggle to open the diaper pins. You try to open the diaper, but you can't. "I think the pins are stuck," you say. > You change out of the pink jumper into the shorts and T-shirt hoping no one sees you. You quickly change out of the jumper and into the shorts and T-shirt. > You see that your pink cloth diaper peeks out above the waist band of the shorts and the shirt does not come down enough to cover it. The diaper can still be seen peeking out above the waistband of the shorts, and the shirt does not come down enough to fully cover it. "You look really cute," the little girl says. > You say "That’s what I’m afraid of." "That's what I'm afraid of," you say. > You say "But thank you for the help. At least people won’t think I’m a girl." "But thank you for the help," you say. "They're going to think I'm a girl," "No, they're not. You look like a boy. Well, sort of." > You say "I go back to scanning the people coming and going looking for a source of help." "I need to go," you say. "Thanks for the help." "Bye," the little girl says. "See you around," you say, and walk off. > You scan the lot watching for someone who might be able to help. You watch the parking lot carefully, looking for someone who might be able to help you. > You feel pressure growing in your bladder. You feel pressure growing in your bladder. You're not sure if it's just the diaper or if you actually need to go. > You check the phone for any new messages. There is a new message. It reads, "Your wife is going to leave you here at the rest stop and let an Amazon adopt you. That will be the end of your life as a man. > You type back you’ve made it this long. You type back, "I've made it this long. I'm not going to give up." "We'll see about that," the message says. > You type back, who is this. You type back, "Who is this?" "Someone who's going to make sure you end up as a baby," the message says. > You grumble angrily. "I'm not going to end up as a baby," you grumble angrily. > You go back to watching the parking lot. You go back to watching the parking lot. "Oh, no," you think, as you see an Amazon approaching. Part 2: > You try to hide. You try to hide, but it's too late. "What are you doing here, little one?" the Amazon asks. "I'm …. Uhhhh… playing hide and seek,” you say trying to come up with a reasonable lie. "Oh, really," the Amazon says. "Where are the others?" "Uhhh…." "You're lying, aren't you?" the Amazon says. "Ummm, they must be looking for me on the other side of the rest area.” > You smile. "Well, since you're alone, why don't you come with me," the Amazon says. "Uhhh... no, I should really go find my family," you say, not really sure what else to say. "Oh, don't be silly," the Amazon says, grabbing your hand. "You're coming with me." > You say "Wait, no. I don’t want to go with you." "No, I don't want to go with you," you say. "Nonsense," the Amazon says, dragging you along with her. > You tug at her vise like grip but am dragged along with her. "Wait!" you shout, as she drags you along with her. "I need to stay here. I have to find my wife." "Oh, your wife will be fine," the Amazon says. > You say "I mean my mommy. I have to find my mommy." "I mean my mommy. I have to find my mommy," you say, hoping that the Amazon will not recognize your lie. "Your mommy will be fine," the Amazon says. > You say "No she is gonna miss me terribly." "No, she's going to miss me terribly," you say, hoping that the Amazon will show some sign of sympathy. "Your mommy will be fine," the Amazon says. You have a sinking feeling that this Amazon is not going to be sympathetic to your situation. > You say "Please let me go." "Please, let me go," you say, as she drags you towards a van. "Nope," the Amazon says. "You're coming with me." > You say "I fight desperately. I look around and realize that to everyone else I just look like a disobedient child being dragged off by a parent." You struggle to break free, but it's no use. She's far too strong. "Stop that," the Amazon says. "You're just making things worse for yourself." You realize that no one else can see that the Amazon is a kidnapper. > You yell "Please somebody help me!" "Please, someone help me!" you yell. "Oh, just shut up," the Amazon says. "Nobody's going to help you." "Come on, you can have the whole back seat," the Amazon says, opening the back door of the van. > You stare at the rear facing car seat as you feel her pick you off the ground. You see a rear-facing car seat. "No! No! Let me go!" you shout, as the Amazon carries you to the van. "Quiet!" the Amazon says. "If you keep shouting, I'm going to have to gag you." > You struggle and fight for all you are worth. You struggle and fight for all you are worth, but it's no use. She's too strong. "Let me go! Help! Help!" "Shut up," the Amazon says, as she throws you into the back seat of the van. > You try to get back out of the van. You try to get back out of the van, but the door closes before you can. "Let me out!" you shout, pounding on the window. "Oh, quiet," the Amazon says, as she fastens your seatbelt. > You find yourself strapped into the large baby car seat. "You're not going anywhere," the Amazon says, as she buckles your car seat. "There, that should keep you quiet for a while," she says, smiling. > You say "No I will not be quiet let me go." "I will not be quiet, let me go!" you shout, continuing to struggle. "Oh, stop struggling, you're just making things worse for yourself," the Amazon says. > You try to undo the safety harness in the car seat. You try to undo the safety harness, but it's no use, it's too strong. "Just sit there and behave," the Amazon says. "We'll be home soon." "Home?" > You kick your feet and shout at her. You kick your feet and shout at her, "No, I'm not going to sit here and behave. Let me go!" "Oh, stop that," the Amazon says, grabbing your feet. "You're just making things harder on yourself." > You say "You are kidnapping me. I am an Adult." "You're kidnapping me!" you shout. "I'm an adult! Let me go!" "Oh, please," the Amazon says. "As if anyone's going to believe that. Now, be quiet and let me drive." > You say "No. Really. I am not a baby and I don’t need diapers." "I'm not a baby," you say. "And I don't need diapers." "Sure you are," the Amazon says. > You say "I can prove it." "I can prove it," you say. "Fine," the Amazon says. "Then take your diaper off." "What?" "Go ahead," the Amazon says. "Take it off." > You reach into your shorts and try to remove the diaper. You reach into your shorts and pull at the diaper, but it's no use. > You fight with the diaper pins desperately. You fight with the diaper pins, trying to undo them. > You say "It won’t come off." "It won't come off," you say. "Because they're not supposed to," the Amazon says. > You say "Please….. please just let me go." "Please," you say, "just let me go." "Nope," the Amazon says. "Sorry, but you're staying right here." > You say "I’ll do anything. I don’t want to be a baby." "I'll do anything," you say. "I don't want to be a baby." "Oh, please," the Amazon says. "You're already a baby." > You ask "Look, my name is Kenneth, what is yours?" "Look, my name is Kenneth," you say. "I'm not a baby." "And I'm not going to be a baby," you say, continuing to struggle against your restraints. "Oh, just shut up," the Amazon says. "It's not like you have a choice." > You the reality hits you. you are trapped and now you have to conserving your strength and not letting her regress you. You're starting to realize that you're trapped. There's no way out of this. You can't even open the door, much less escape from the van. All you can do is sit here and wait for whatever the Amazon has planned for you. > You try to look out the windows to see where she is taking you. You try to look out the window, but you can't see anything. The van's windows are tinted and you can't see through them. You have no idea where you're going or what the Amazon has planned for you. > You resist the urge to cry. You resist the urge to cry, but it's difficult. > You sit in the car seat quietly trying to think up an escape plan. The phone in your pocket buzzes. The car seat is uncomfortable and you can't seem to get comfortable. > You squirm. You squirm, trying to get into a more comfortable position, but it's no use. Your body feels strange and wrong in the car seat and you can't seem to get comfortable. "Stop squirming," the Amazon says. > You say "This seat is terrible. I don’t fit in it well at all." "This seat is terrible," you say. "I don't fit in it well at all." "It's probably the only thing that would fit you," the Amazon says. "What?" "Oh, never mind." "Where are you taking me?" you ask. "Somewhere nice and quiet," the Amazon says. "Somewhere you won't be able to cause any trouble." > You worry that maybe she is taking you to an orphanage where they prepare Littles for Adoption. you know she would probably be paid a hefty finders fee for handing you over. "You can't just take me somewhere without my permission," you say. "Yes, I can," the Amazon says. > You or maybe she plans to adopt you herself. Or perhaps has a family lined up already. Or it could be an etiquette school for training Littles to be babies. Your mind races with possibilities. "No, you can't," you say. "Yes, I can," the Amazon says. "And I am." "Just be quiet and enjoy the ride." > You cross your arms and pout. You cross your arms and pout, not liking being ignored. "Hey, don't ignore me," you say. "I'm not a baby, you can't just treat me like this." "Sure you are," the Amazon says. "I can treat you however I want." "Now, be quiet and let me drive." > You ask "Are we almost there yet?" "Are we almost there yet?" "No." "How long is this trip going to take?" "Long enough for you to stop asking questions." "You can't just keep me here," you say. "You can't stop me." > You say "I start to hear soft nursery music coming from a set of speakers built into the car seat." You start to hear soft nursery music coming from a set of speakers built into the car seat. "What is that?" you ask. "Just something to help you relax," the Amazon says. > You say "I don’t want to relax." "I don't want to relax," you say. "Too bad," the Amazon says. > You try to ignore the music. You try to ignore the music, but it's difficult. It seems to seep into your brain, filling your mind with a strange sense of calm. "There, isn't that better?" > You say "No……" "No," you say. "Well, it'll have to do," the Amazon says. "We can't have you fighting the entire time." > You feel your eye lids drooping. You feel your eyelids starting to droop, and your body relaxing against your will. "There, isn't that better?" > You struggle weakly in the car seat. You struggle weakly against the car seat, but it's no use. > You feel yourself nodding off and struggle to stay awake. You try to stay awake, but the music and the gentle rocking of the car are too much. You find yourself drifting off to sleep. > You fall into a deep sleep as the car drives off to places unknown. You fall into a deep sleep, not knowing where you're going or what will happen to you when you wake up. > You are awoken with a jolt. You're awoken with a jolt. "We're here," the Amazon says. "Huh?" you mumble, still half asleep. > You try to figure out how long you was asleep. You try to figure out how long you were asleep, but you're not sure. "Come on," the Amazon says, undoing your car seat. "Wake up, sleepy head." > You say "Wait. I don’t want to go with you…." "Wait," you say. "I don't want to go with you." "Too bad," the Amazon says. > You feel her pick you up and lift you out of the van. You feel her pick you up and carry you. > You look around to try and figure out where we are and what time of day it is. You look around, trying to figure out where we are and what time of day it is. It's difficult to see in the darkness, but it looks like we're in some sort of building. > You squirm in her arms. You squirm, trying to break free, but it's no use. She's too strong. "Let me go!" "Stop squirming," the Amazon says. "Let's just get you inside and get you settled." > You watch as we approach a reception desk. "Hello," the Amazon says. "I've brought a new baby." "Of course," the receptionist says, smiling. "Just fill out these forms and we'll get her settled." > You your eyes go wide. Did they just say “her?”. You look down at yourself and notice that you're wearing a dress. "Did you just say 'her?'" "Yes," the receptionist says. "All of our new babies are girls." > You shout "Please. This is all a mistake, I’m not a baby. She has kidnapped me!" "No, you're a little girl," the Amazon says. "And I'll make sure that you get taken care of." > You yell "No! You have to let me go!" You yell, "No! You have to let me go!" The receptionist asks the other woman if she needs a pacifier. "Not yet," the Amazon says. "But, thank you for asking." > You say "I will not be pacified." "I will not be pacified," you say. > You say "I am dropped into a play pen in the reception area so the Amazon can fill out the forms." "Oh, please," the Amazon says. "If you were a little girl, would you refuse a pacifier?" You are dropped into a playpen in the reception area while the Amazon fills out the forms. > You immediately try to climb out. You immediately try to climb out, but the sides are too high. "Now, now," the Amazon says. "You need to stay in there." > You ask "How much? How much do you get paid for this?" "How much?" you ask. "How much do you get paid for this?" The receptionist gives a knowing smile. "That's confidential," she says. "But let's just say it's more than enough to make up for the hassle of dealing with bratty Littles like you." > You say "I watch the receptionist come over and kneel down to my level." You watch as the receptionist comes over and kneels down to your level. "And what's your name, little girl?" she asks. "Kenneth," you say. "My name's not little girl, it's Kenneth." "No, it's not," the Amazon says. > You ask "Huh?" "Huh?" "Oh, don't worry about it," the receptionist says. "We can just call you whatever we want." > You say "My name is Kenneth." "My name is Kenneth," you insist. The Amazon replies “Your name is what ever I put down on this form.” "I think 'Cathy' would suit you just fine," the receptionist says, writing down the name. "And I'm sure your parents would agree." "But... but... > You say "I hear a buzz and I realize that the Amazon has my phone." You hear a buzz and look over to see the Amazon holding your phone. "What's this?" she asks. "That's mine," you say. > You say "Give it back." "Give it back," you say. "Sorry, but we can't have you calling your parents and telling them about all this," the Amazon says, putting the phone away. > You say "I grumble in frustration again." You grumble in frustration again, kicking your feet. "Now, now," the Amazon says. "Let's not make a scene." > You shout "I will make a scene!" You shout, "I will make a scene!" The receptionist just shakes her head and smiles. "I'm sure you'll calm down soon enough," she says. > You start throwing toys out of the playpen. You start throwing toys out of the playpen, trying to cause as much chaos as possible. The receptionist watches you, a bemused expression on her face. > You yell "Let me go!" "Let me go!" you yell. "Not a chance," the Amazon says. "Once you're registered here, there's no way they'll let you go." > You can tell the Amazon is almost finished with the forms. You can tell the Amazon is almost finished with the forms and try to think of some way to escape. > You say "Please… don’t leave me here." "Please," you say. "Don't leave me here." "Don't worry," the Amazon says. "You'll be just fine." > You say "I watch as she ha." You watch as the Amazon hands the forms to the receptionist. "Here you go," she says. "Cathy sounds perfect for this one." > You peek over the top of the playpen as the Amazon is given an envelope of cash. You peek over the top of the playpen as the Amazon is handed an envelope of cash. "Pleasure doing business with you," the receptionist says. "And thank you again for bringing in a Little for us." The Amazon nods. "Anytime," she says. > You watch as she leaves. You watch as the Amazon leaves, heading back to the van.

Let me preface this topic by saying I am not a writer, but I've read quite a lot of stories on here as well as pretty much every other website that provides ABDL or similarly themed stories, in German as well as English. Thus there may be themes and plotlines in this work that are inspired by other works out there, as that is pretty much unavoidable. However I will try my best to ultimately still keep this story original in the end. Since I have pretty much zero experience in actually writing stories, but am quite versed in prompt engineering AIs, I decided to try out how far I can get to writing an actually enjoyable and consistent novel by relying heavily on AI assistance. I checked the pinned posts in this forum and did not find any rules regarding AI assisted/generated stories, so I hope I'm not breaking any rules. If I do, my apologies. Of ourse I'm heavily aware of the limitations of current, publicy available language models and for the sake of transparency I'm going to briefly explain my approach here. I use two instances of the free version of ChatGPT running on GPT-3.5. The first one I feed with precise outlines of what I want to happen and it responds with a handful of paragraphs at a time. Due to limitations in the conext size and the size of the responses it can't generate full chapters at once, even though those would be more consistent on their own., however with my approach of feeding it prompts bit by bit I have more control about the content. I still need to go through each paragraph however, rearrange them sometimes and fix minor consistency issues. Every now and then there will also be sentences and the odd paragraph in there that I had to fully write on my own, as ChatGPT was not cooperating to produce what I wanted. I really hope those do not stand out however and there is no discernible difference in quality of writing. After I finish a chapter I then feed it into a second instance of ChatGPT, which sole purpose is to extract knowledge and data points from the chapter and outline it once again, which I then feed back into the first AI to increase cohesion and consistency. I've created 5 chapters so far and in my opinion they read really well and are fairly cohesive. I have a general idea for where the story will go but I'm still uncertain of where it will end up. I like to surprise myself a bit as I progress this story and dive deeper into the mind of the protagonist. I aalso have no idea how long this approach will hold up and when the consistency breaks down completely. I welcome any kind of criticism regarding the quality of this story, especially in regards to consistency, as quality AI assisted writing is still fairly novel and I'm very curious to hear what you guys have to say about this approach aand the result. Without further ado, here are the first 5 chapters: ----------------- Chapter 1 (Thursday, Day 1) Sitting at my desk, the hard wooden surface pressing against my thighs, I let out a weary sigh. Mr. Henderson's droning voice filled the classroom, the words blending together into a meaningless stream. History had never been my favorite subject, but today it felt particularly unbearable. I was a sophomore in high school, barely fifteen, with chestnut hair that fell in unruly waves around my shoulders and eyes the color of storm clouds. Despite my petite frame, I carried myself with a quiet confidence, a facade that masked the shame that gnawed at my insides. School had only started three days ago, after a long summer break filled with lazy days and carefree afternoons. But now, with the weight of my secret bearing down on me, those carefree days felt like a distant memory. My mind drifted back to that first accident a few weeks ago, the one that had started this whole downward spiral. I had been home alone, lost in the blissful solitude of my own thoughts, when it happened. I was sitting at my desk, engrossed in a book, when the pressure in my bladder had become too much to bear. I had tried to ignore it at first, too focused on the story unfolding before me to pay attention to the warning signs. But as the urgency grew stronger, more insistent, I finally realized what was happening. I jumped up from my desk, my heart pounding in my chest, and raced to the bathroom. But by then, it was too late. I felt the warm trickle of urine running down the fabric of my pants, a humiliating reminder of my body's betrayal. The shame washed over me in waves as I stumbled into the bathroom, tears stinging my eyes. I cleaned myself up as best I could, my hands trembling with embarrassment. And when I finally emerged from the bathroom, my cheeks flushed with shame, I vowed to never let it happen again. But now, as I sat in Mr. Henderson's classroom, the memory of that first accident came rushing back with startling clarity. And as the pressure in my bladder grew stronger, more insistent, I realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that history was about to repeat itself. Bits and pieces of the lesson floated through my mind, ironically drawing parallels to my current situation. Mentions of treaties and alliances felt like reminders of the fragile alliances I had forged with my own body, desperate attempts to maintain control in the face of impending disaster. But as my thoughts started to spiral again, a sudden realization snapped me back to reality. A warm, damp sensation spread across the fabric of my panties, and my heart sank. The shame washed over me in a suffocating wave, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as I tried to discreetly wipe away the evidence. And then, just as I was grappling with the humiliation of my predicament, Lily's voice cut through the haze of my thoughts. Lily has been my best friend for as long as I can remember and she was sitting next to me in class. "Ellie, are you okay?" she asked, concern etched in her features. I forced a smile, my voice strained as I replied, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired, I guess." But even as I spoke the words, I could see the doubt in Lily's eyes. She had noticed something off about me, something I had been desperately trying to conceal. And as she continued to study me with furrowed brows, I knew that my carefully constructed facade was beginning to crumble, exposing the truth I had fought so hard to hide. My heart sank further as I realized there were still ten more minutes left in this class. How was I supposed to deal with my wet secret for that long? And as the pressure in my bladder continued to build, I couldn't shake the feeling of mortification knowing that the short leak wasn't enough to relieve it. I watched the clock closely, patiently waiting to be released from this torture. My thoughts started drifting off again, thinking about how my life was just fine a few weeks ago and how my bladder control got progressively worse in the last two weeks of summer vacation. At first, I didn’t notice. It all began with that one accident, which I quickly dismissed. I rationalized it afterward, attributing it to the copious amounts of water I drank that day to combat the summer heat. Given my tendency to lose myself in thought and tune out the world around me, it seemed plausible. In the following weeks, I continued to use the same excuse to justify my increasingly frequent trips to the bathroom. I didn’t think much of it. "It's just because I've been drinking so much to stay hydrated in the summer," I reassured myself. Although that carefree confidence started to crumble more and more with each trip to the bathroom and close call. Afterall here I was, sitting in class with damp panties. The shrill ring of the bell echoed through the classroom, pulling me once again from my thoughts, signaling the end of yet another torturous history lesson. Without a second thought, I bolted out of my seat, my heart racing as I made a beeline for the exit. I could feel the pressure in my bladder reaching a critical point, threatening to unleash an even worse accident if I didn't act fast. With each hurried step, I prayed that I would make it to the restrooms in time. The hallway stretched on endlessly before me, the minutes ticking by agonizingly slow. But finally, mercifully, I reached the door to the restroom and pushed it open with trembling hands. I dashed inside and made a beeline for the nearest stall, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Just barely, I managed to yank down my pants and lower myself onto the toilet before it was too late. I closed my eyes, relief flooding through me as I felt the warm rush of urine escaping my body. Once the immediate crisis had passed, I dared to open my eyes and glance down at my wet panties. The shame washed over me anew as I realized the extent of the damage. There was no hiding it now – the evidence of my secret was plain for all to see. I contemplated my situation, trying to come up with a plan to discreetly deal with my wet underwear. But as I sat there, lost in thought, a knock on the stall door shattered the silence. "Ellie? Are you in there?" Lily's voice broke through the haze of my thoughts, concern evident in her tone. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. How had she found me here? And more importantly, how was I supposed to explain the mess I had gotten myself into? With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I realized that I was about to be confronted with a reality I had been desperately trying to avoid. "I-I'm fine, Lily," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Just... needed a moment alone, you know?" But even as the words tumbled out of my mouth, I knew they sounded unconvincing. How could I possibly explain the mess I had made of things without revealing my deepest, most humiliating secret? There was a brief pause, and then Lily spoke again, her voice soft but insistent. "Ellie, I'm your best friend. You can talk to me about anything. Please, just let me in." I hesitated, torn between the instinct to keep my secret buried deep inside and the desperate need for someone to confide in. Finally, with a heavy heart, I unlocked the stall door and watched as Lily stepped inside. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the scene before her – me, sitting on the toilet with tears streaming down my cheeks, my wet panties discarded on the floor beside me. "Oh, Ellie," Lily whispered, her voice filled with sympathy. "What's going on? Why are you so upset?" I took a deep breath, steeling myself to reveal the truth I had fought so hard to hide. "Lily, I... I've been having accidents," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's been happening for weeks now, and I don't know what to do." Tears welled up in my eyes as I recounted the humiliating ordeal I had been going through, the shame and fear that had consumed me with each passing day. But to my surprise, instead of recoiling in disgust or disbelief, Lily reached out and enveloped me in a warm hug. "Ellie, I'm so sorry," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea you were going through this. But you don't have to face it alone. We'll figure this out together, okay?" And in that moment, as I clung to my best friend for dear life, I felt a glimmer of hope flicker to life inside me. Maybe, just maybe, I didn't have to face this nightmare alone after all. Chapter 2 (Thursday, Day 1) Lily and I huddled together in the restroom stall, our voices hushed as we deliberated our options. "Okay, so we have two choices," Lily began, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Option one: we dry off your panties as best as we can and you put them back on. Hopefully, the wetness won't show through your pants." I bit my lip, considering her suggestion. "But what if they do show through?" I whispered anxiously. "I can't bear the thought of everyone seeing..." Lily nodded understandingly before presenting the second option. "Option two: we seek out help from the school staff. They might have spare clothing or be able to assist us in some way." I hesitated, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts. On one hand, the idea of confiding in someone else filled me with dread. I couldn't bear the thought of anyone else knowing about my humiliating secret. But on the other hand, the risk of being caught with wet panties was equally terrifying. "I... I think we should go with option one," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't... I can't bring myself to tell anyone else about this." Lily nodded in agreement, though I could see the concern in her eyes. "Okay, we'll go with option one," she said gently. "But if it doesn't work out, we'll figure something else out, okay? You're not alone in this, Ellie. I'm here for you." Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I nodded, overwhelmed by Lily's unwavering support. Together, we set to work drying off my panties as best as we could, hoping against hope that our chosen option would be enough to get us through the rest of the day. As we worked quickly to dry off my panties, the restroom door creaked open, and the voices of a bunch of gossiping girls drifted in. My heart sank as I listened to their chatter, their words slicing through the air like knives. "...and did you hear about Sarah? I heard she got dumped by her boyfriend in front of the whole school! Can you imagine how humiliating that must've been?" The cruel laughter that followed sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt Lily tense beside me. We pressed ourselves against the walls of the stall, hardly daring to breathe as we waited for the girls to leave. My mind raced with fear and anxiety, the sound of their laughter ringing in my ears like a taunt. I couldn't help but wonder what they would say if they knew about my own humiliating secret, about the struggles I was facing right now. But as the seconds ticked by agonizingly slow, the girls' voices gradually faded away, leaving behind an eerie silence. Lily and I breathed a sigh of relief, our bodies still trembling with tension. Once the coast was clear and my panties as dry as we could get them, we emerged from the stall, our faces pale with fear and exhaustion. Lily squeezed my hand reassuringly, her eyes filled with sympathy. "We'll get through this, Ellie," she whispered, her voice filled with determination. "Together." With Lily's support, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them head-on. And as we left the restroom, ready to tackle whatever came our way, I felt a glimmer of hope flicker to life inside me. We made it back to our last class of the day without anyone noticing the turmoil that had unfolded in the restroom. With each step, I felt a sense of relief wash over me, grateful for the temporary reprieve from the weight of my secret, but also still reminded of the dampness inside my pants. As we settled into our seats, the familiar routine of the classroom provided a welcome distraction from the events of the day. And though the memory of the gossiping girls lingered in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Lily's unwavering support. Despite the close call, I had managed to navigate through the day without my secret being exposed to the entire school. It was still a close call, but in that moment, it felt like a small victory. Despite the earlier challenges, the remainder of the class passed without incident. But as the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, my relief was short-lived. As I gathered my belongings and prepared to leave, Lily caught up to me, a concerned expression etched on her face. "Ellie, wait," she said softly, motioning for me to step aside. Confusion knitted my brows as I followed Lily to a secluded corner of the hallway. It was then that her gaze flickered down to my pants, and her eyes widened in alarm. "Oh, Ellie," Lily murmured, sympathy lacing her voice as she gestured to the damp stain that had seeped through. "We need to figure out a way to conceal this before you leave school. We can't let anyone see." Panic surged through me as I realized the gravity of the situation. I couldn't bear the thought of facing the humiliation of being seen with stained pants, especially not in front of my classmates. But with Lily by my side, I knew we would find a way to handle it together. Taking a deep breath, Lily and I set to work, brainstorming ideas to conceal the stain and get me home safely. We quickly decided that Lily would lend me her jacket to tie around my waist, providing cover as we made our way through the crowded halls. Nervously, Lily and I made our way through the hallways towards the exit, keeping a vigilant eye out for any signs of suspicion. To our relief, we seemed to go unnoticed, but the tension still lingered in the air, palpable and suffocating. As we approached the bus stop, the familiar sound of giggling reached our ears, and my heart sank as I spotted the gossiping group of girls already waiting there. Among them stood the tallest one, towering at 5 foot 10 over my petite 5 foot 0 frame. She shot a glance towards the jacket around my waist, raising an eyebrow in curiosity, but quickly became engrossed in conversation with her friends once again. My pulse raced with anxiety, but to my immense relief, the girl didn't seem to suspect anything amiss. She made no comment about the jacket or the stain it concealed, and soon, the bus arrived, whisking us away from the prying eyes of the gossiping girls. As we settled into our seats on the bus, I let out a shaky breath, grateful for the narrow escape. Despite the close call, we had managed to make it through the day without my secret being exposed to the entire school. It was a small victory, but in that moment, it felt like a monumental achievement. After what felt like an eternity, though it was only about 15 minutes, Lily and I finally reached our stop. Lost in my thoughts, I reflected on the rollercoaster of a school day we had just endured. As we stepped off the bus and onto the familiar sidewalk, a knot formed in the pit of my stomach at the thought of facing my mom when I got home. We walked together in silence until we reached the front of my house. With a heavy heart, I turned to Lily, knowing our time together was coming to an end for the day. "Thanks, Lily," I said softly, my voice tinged with gratitude. "For everything." Lily smiled warmly, her eyes filled with understanding. "Of course, Ellie," she replied. "Anytime. And don't worry, you can keep the jacket for today. You can give it back to me tomorrow before school." Relief washed over me as I pulled the jacket tighter around my waist, hoping it would conceal the stain, not realizing however that stain had almost fully dried and was barely visible by now. With a final hug, we said our goodbyes, and I watched as Lily walked away, disappearing down the street. Alone now, I stood in front of my front door, the weight of the day's events heavy on my shoulders. Dread gnawed at me as I contemplated the inevitable encounter with my mom. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and reached for the doorknob, steeling myself for what lay ahead. Chapter 3 (Thursday, Day 1) I stepped through the front door, the weight of the day's events heavy on my shoulders. My mom greeted me with her usual upbeat demeanor, her smile brightening as she asked about my day. "Hi, Mom," I managed to stammer out, my voice barely above a whisper. I forced a smile, hoping to mask the turmoil raging inside me, and quickly set my bag down by the door. As my mom chattered on about her day, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me, I followed her to the kitchen, my mind swirling with worrisome thoughts. I mechanically poured myself a glass of water, the cool liquid doing little to calm the nerves that threatened to consume me. I forced myself to focus on my mom's words, nodding along absentmindedly as she recounted the events of her day. But beneath the surface, a sense of dread gnawed at me, the weight of my secret pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. I struggled to keep up the facade of normalcy, my mind racing with unanswered questions. How could I face my mom when she inevitably found out about my struggles? Would she be disappointed in me, or worse, ashamed? As I sipped my water, I resolved to keep my secret buried deep inside, at least for now. I couldn't bear the thought of burdening my mom with my troubles, not when she had her own worries to contend with. But even as I tried to push aside my fears, a sense of unease lingered in the air, casting a shadow over what should have been a peaceful afternoon at home. And as I glanced up at my mom, her smile faltering for just a moment, I couldn't shake the feeling that our idyllic facade was beginning to crack. As I helped my mom make dinner, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables providing a comforting distraction, I began to feel a sense of calm wash over me. Maybe, just maybe, my mom hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary after all. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice the pressure building in my bladder until it became almost unbearable. With a small gasp, I excused myself from the kitchen, intending to make a quick trip to the bathroom. But before I could take a single step, my mom's voice cut through the air, startling me out of my reverie. "Ellie, wait," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "Can I ask you something?" I turned to face her, my mind still foggy from my internal turmoil. "Sure, Mom," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the rising tide of anxiety. She hesitated for a moment, her expression unreadable, before finally speaking. "What's with the jacket, sweetheart?" she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "It's still pretty warm out for you to be wearing it." My heart skipped a beat as I realized there was no way to avoid the question. With a shaky breath, I forced myself to reply, praying that my mom wouldn't push for more details. "Oh, uh, it's just... I found it in my closet and thought it looked nice," I said, my voice trembling slightly. To my surprise, my mom's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied the jacket. "That's odd," she mused, her tone thoughtful. "I don't remember you ever owning a jacket like that. Did you borrow it from a friend?" Panic surged through me as I struggled to come up with a plausible explanation. "Um, yeah, something like that," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "A friend lent it to me for the day." My mom nodded slowly, though a hint of concern lingered in her eyes. "Alright, honey," she said, her tone gentle. "Just be careful, okay? And make sure to return it to your friend when you're done with it." With a nod, I forced a smile and hurried off to the bathroom, my heart still pounding with adrenaline. As I closed the door behind me, I let out a shaky breath, grateful for the temporary reprieve. But even as I relieved myself, the weight of my secret hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over what should have been a simple family dinner. Sitting on the toilet, I couldn't help but glance down at the white, slightly childish-looking panties I wore. My heart sank as I noticed the faint yellow stain, now fully dry, marring the fabric. With a pang of embarrassment, I realized I should probably change out of them. Once I finished in the bathroom, I made a quick detour to my bedroom upstairs. Hastily, I switched out of my jeans and stained panties, exchanging them for a fresh pair and a comfortable pair of sweatpants. I left the borrowed jacket on my bed and hurried back downstairs to the kitchen. As I reentered the room, the aroma of dinner filled the air, momentarily distracting me from my worries. My mom glanced up from the stove, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Feeling better, sweetheart?" she asked, concern lacing her voice. I forced a smile, trying to shake off the lingering sense of unease. "Yeah, much better," I replied, my voice sounding more confident than I felt. "Sorry about that, Mom." She waved off my apology with a smile, turning back to tend to the food. But even as I joined her in the kitchen, the memory of the stained panties lingered in the back of my mind, a constant reminder of the secret I was desperate to keep hidden. As I finished setting the table, the sound of the front door opening caught my attention. Moments later, my dad entered the kitchen, his tired smile lighting up his face as he greeted me. "Hey there, kiddo," he said, ruffling my hair affectionately. With a smile, I returned his greeting, grateful for the familiar routine of our family dinners. As we all sat down at the table, the warm glow of the kitchen bathed us in a sense of comfort and familiarity. Throughout dinner, I couldn't help but notice how upbeat both of my parents seemed, their laughter filling the air as they exchanged stories from their day. They played the part of the happy little family perfectly, oblivious to the worries that ate away at their daughter from the inside. I tried my best to join in the conversation, forcing a smile and nodding along with their stories. But beneath the facade of normalcy, a sense of isolation gnawed at me, reminding me of the burden I carried alone. As the evening wore on and dinner came to an end, I excused myself from the table, claiming exhaustion from the long day at school. But even as I retreated to my room, the weight of my secret hung heavy on my shoulders, casting a shadow over what should have been a simple family meal. As I sat down to tackle my homework, my mind couldn't help but drift back to the events of the day. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for Lily and all she had done to support me. Without her, I don't know how I would have made it through the day. With a sudden burst of determination, I decided to call Lily, hoping to do our homework together. Somehow, suffering through the boring math equations seemed more bearable with her by my side. "Hey, Lily!" I greeted her as she picked up the phone. "Hey, Ellie! What's up?" Lily replied cheerfully. "I was wondering if you wanted to do our math homework together? It's kind of boring on my own," I suggested. "Sure thing! I’ve finished mine already, but I don’t mind keeping you company," Lily agreed with a laugh. I quickly got to work, Lily helping me through the first problem. But it wasn't long before our conversation veered off course, leading us down a rabbit hole of jokes and stories. "Remember that time in sixth grade when Mr. Thompson caught us passing notes in class?" Lily reminisced, causing us both to burst into laughter. "Oh, how could I forget?" I replied between giggles. "That was definitely one of our finer moments." As we continued to work through the homework, I couldn't help but marvel at Lily's patience and willingness to help, despite having already completed her own assignments. It was moments like these that reminded me just how lucky I was to have her as a friend. In the midst of our conversation my focus shifted further and further away from the assignment I was doing. By the time we were completely off topic I barely managed to finish half of the assignment and had already completely forgotten about them. I even completely forgot about the stained panties still lying on my bedroom floor, which I had originally planned to deal with after homework. For the first time since I had arrived home, I felt a sense of lightness wash over me, grateful for the simple joy of friendship in the midst of chaos. Chapter 4 (Thursday, Day 1) Hours slipped by as Lily and I talked, laughter punctuating our conversation as we reminisced about old memories and shared new ones. But as the evening progressed, I realized with a sinking feeling that I still hadn't finished my homework. Time had slipped away unnoticed, and now I found myself scrambling to catch up. A sudden knock at the door shattered the tranquility of the moment, causing me to jump in my seat. With a quick apology to Lily, I excused myself from our phone conversation and hung up, my heart pounding with apprehension. "Come in," I called out automatically, my mind still reeling from the unexpected interruption. The door creaked open slowly, revealing my mom standing in the doorway, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Hey, sweetheart," she said softly, her voice gentle. "Is everything okay?" I forced a smile, trying to hide the panic that threatened to consume me. "Yeah, Mom, everything's fine," I replied, though my voice sounded strained even to my own ears. But my mom wasn't convinced. I could see it in the way she studied me, her eyes searching mine for any sign of distress. "Are you sure?" she asked, her tone gentle but probing. "You seemed a bit... off earlier. Is something on your mind?" I felt a surge of nervousness grip me as I realized that my mom wasn't as oblivious as I had thought. She had sensed something was wrong, and now I found myself at a loss for words. "I, uh, just got caught up in a conversation with Lily," I stammered, my voice faltering. "That's all." My mom's expression softened with understanding, though a hint of concern lingered in her eyes. "Alright, sweetheart," she said softly. "Just remember, I'm here if you ever need to talk. I love you." As I sat there, trying to compose myself, realizing my Mom was only concerned and meant well, I noticed her gaze flicker towards the floor where my discarded clothes lay. My heart skipped a beat, fearing she might notice the stained panties, but to my relief, her attention seemed to pass over them without recognition. "Sweetheart, don't forget to clean up your clothes before bedtime," my mom said, her voice gentle but firm as she turned back to face me. I nodded quickly, my mind racing with a mixture of anxiety and relief. "Okay, Mom," I replied, forcing a smile despite the turmoil brewing inside me. With a final nod, my mom left the room, closing the door softly behind her. As I sank back into my chair, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease lingering in the air. My mom's concern was touching, but it also served as a stark reminder that I couldn't keep my struggles hidden forever. With a heavy sigh, I pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. But even as I gathered up my clothes and prepared to clean up, the memory of my mom's probing gaze lingered in the back of my mind, a constant reminder that some secrets were harder to keep than others. As I placed my clothes in the hamper, a sense of exhaustion washed over me, weighing down my limbs as if each step was a struggle. I made my way to the kitchen, the cool tile floor soothing beneath my feet as I poured myself a glass of water, the gentle sound of it filling the silence of the empty house. With a heavy sigh, I trudged into the living room where my parents sat, their voices low as they chatted quietly. I mustered a weak smile as I bid them goodnight, the weight of the day pressing down on me like a leaden blanket. Turning away, I made my way to the bathroom, the familiar routine of brushing my teeth offering a brief respite from the chaos of my thoughts. But even as I rinsed and spat, the worries of the day lingered in the back of my mind, a constant reminder of all that I had left unfinished. As I climbed into bed, the events of the day replayed in my mind like a broken record, each moment filled with anxiety and uncertainty. I couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gnawed at me, the struggles of the day casting a shadow over the days to come. With a heavy heart, I closed my eyes, the weight of my worries threatening to pull me under. But even as sleep beckoned, I couldn't escape the nagging sense of unease that clung to me like a stubborn shadow, a constant reminder of the struggles that lay ahead. And so, with a weary sigh, I surrendered to the embrace of sleep, hoping that tomorrow would bring some respite from the chaos of today. I drifted off into a restless slumber, completely oblivious to the fact that I had never even finished my homework that day. Chapter 5 (Friday, Day 2) I sat in math class, my eyes fixed on the clock at the front of the room. Its hands seemed frozen in time, mocking me as I waited for the minutes to tick by. My bladder ached, a constant reminder of the discomfort I had been trying to ignore all morning. As the teacher droned on about equations and variables, I tried to focus on the lesson, but my mind kept wandering back to the relentless ticking of the clock. Each second felt like an eternity, stretching on and on as if time itself had come to a standstill. I glanced down at the worksheet in front of me, my stomach twisting into knots as I realized I hadn't finished the homework assignment. Panic bubbled up inside me, threatening to overwhelm my already frayed nerves. Summoning all my willpower, I tried to push aside my worries and concentrate on the task at hand. But as the minutes dragged on, my anxiety only grew, a heavy weight pressing down on my chest with each passing second. Just when I thought I couldn't bear it any longer, the teacher's voice cut through the haze of my thoughts, calling my name. My heart skipped a beat as I realized what was happening. "Ellie, would you mind coming up to the front to present your solution for problem number three?" the teacher asked, her voice breaking through the fog of my panic. I felt a surge of dread wash over me as all eyes turned to me expectantly. With trembling hands, I gathered my things and made my way to the front of the room, my heart pounding in my chest. As I stood in front of the class, the weight of their gaze bearing down on me, I struggled to find my voice. My mind raced, searching desperately for the solution I knew was buried somewhere in the depths of my memory. But as the seconds ticked by, I realized with a sinking feeling that I had nothing. My mind was blank, my thoughts consumed by the overwhelming pressure of the moment. With a shaky breath, I mumbled something incomprehensible, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a jumbled mess. The teacher frowned, her disappointment palpable as she urged me to try again. But it was no use. The words refused to come, trapped in the tangled web of my anxiety. And as I stood there, frozen in place, I couldn't help but feel the crushing weight of failure bearing down on me, a heavy burden that seemed impossible to bear. Suddenly, a wave of relief washed over me, but it wasn't because I had miraculously found the answer to the math problem. Instead, it was a strange warmth spreading through my lower body, a sensation that left me bewildered and confused. Slowly, almost hesitantly, I glanced down, fully expecting to see a puddle forming at my feet. But to my shock and confusion, my pants remained dry, and instead, there was a strange bulge forming between my legs. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized what was happening. I felt a surge of panic rising within me, my mind racing to make sense of the impossible situation unfolding before me. I looked up, my eyes wide with fear, only to find all eyes in the classroom fixed on me. I could feel the heat of their stares burning into my skin, their whispers filling the air like a deafening roar. And then, amidst the chaos, I heard it: a faint, familiar giggle echoing from the back of the room. My blood ran cold as I recognized the sound, a chilling reminder of the humiliation that awaited me. Frozen in place, I struggled to make sense of it all. How had this happened? Why was I wearing a diaper? And who could have done this to me? But as I searched the faces of my classmates for answers, all I found was confusion and disbelief mirrored back at me. And in that moment, I realized that I was alone, trapped in a nightmare of my own making with no way out. As I jolted awake, confusion momentarily clouded my thoughts. It took a moment for me to realize that it was just a dream, but as the fog of sleep lifted, a wave of worry washed over me. My heart raced as I remembered the vivid details of the dream – the warmth spreading through my lower body, the sensation of wearing a diaper, the humiliating laughter echoing in the background. With trembling hands, I reached under the sheets, my heart pounding in my chest as I searched for any sign of wetness. Relief flooded through me as my fingers met dry fabric, but it was short-lived. In the next instant, a sharp pain sliced through my bladder, a stark reminder of the reality of my situation. Panic surged within me as I realized that I only had seconds to spare before disaster struck. Frantically, I threw back the covers and stumbled out of bed, my mind racing as I raced to the bathroom, every step sending a jolt of agony through my body. With trembling hands, I fumbled with the doorknob, my heart pounding in my chest as I pushed open the door and stumbled inside. And then, finally, blessed relief washed over me as I collapsed onto the toilet, the pressure in my bladder finally easing as I let out a long, shuddering sigh. As I sat there in the dim light of the bathroom, the events of the dream still fresh in my mind, I couldn't help but wonder what it all meant. Was it just a nightmare, or was it a sign of something more? And as I sat there, lost in my thoughts, I couldn't shake the feeling that the worst was yet to come. As I returned to my bedroom, the dim light filtering in through the curtains cast long shadows across the room. Glancing at the clock on my bedside table, I realized with a sinking feeling that it was barely 3 am. Exhaustion washed over me, the events of the night leaving me drained both physically and emotionally. Crawling back into bed, I pulled the covers up to my chin, hoping to find solace in the darkness of sleep. But as I lay there, my mind buzzing with a thousand thoughts and worries, I found myself unable to relax. Minutes turned into hours as I tossed and turned, my thoughts swirling in a chaotic whirlwind. But despite my best efforts, sleep remained elusive, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. And then, just when I thought I couldn't bear it any longer, exhaustion finally claimed me, pulling me down into the depths of dreamless sleep. As I drifted off into unconsciousness, a sense of peace washed over me, if only for a fleeting moment, as I surrendered to the embrace of slumber once more.

This story takes place a couple of months after Keeping Secrets. It's hard for me to tell, but I don't think it's necessary to read the previous story to enjoy this one, but if you want to read about how Tracy and Kat met, that's where to go. And as always, I will be updating the tags as the different parts are posted to avoid spoilers. -------------- Mission Improbable (Part 1 of 13) "Shit!" Tracy looked out of the window of her van. Big, fat raindrops splattered against the windscreen. "What's the matter Häschen?" Kat's voice on the other end of the phone line asked. "Rain. "That's going to make flying harder." A single one of those big drops could upset the balance of Tracy's little drone. It would also make audio surveillance next to impossible. Lightning flashed somewhere behind the car, illuminating the trees in front of the car briefly. The thunder that followed only moments later drowned out whatever Kat said. "What was that?" Tracy put Kat on speaker while she climbed around the seats to the back of the van. "I said 'just be careful'. I wouldn't want to take care of a zapped, little bunny. You're fussy enough when you're just wet." Tracy felt a blush creep up her neck. "Kat," Tracy pleaded, the whining tone painfully clear even to herself. God, I sound like a four-year-old. "Oh come on," Kat said. "It's not like there's anyone else in your car with you." "How do you know?" "Well, is there?" "No," Tracy admitted. She was struggling to find the neck hole inside her dark grey rain poncho. The stiff plastic of the poncho crackled slightly with static electricity as she pulled it down. The mesh of hair-thin metal wires inside the plastic would hide and distort Tracy's heat signature, making her much harder to see with infra-red cameras. She wasn't expecting anybody to be using that, but if she had to be somewhere in person, she was not going to take any chances. Tracy picked the phone up from the suitcase holding most of her surveillance gear. "Anyway, are you doing anything tonight?" Tracy didn't actually hold her breath; at least not physically. She always felt awkward asking if Kat was free. Asking a dominatrix if she's working felt to Tracy like asking 'are you fucking someone'. It wasn't like she was jealous when Kat was seeing clients. Well, maybe a little. She knew what she was getting into when she and Kat started... dating? No, that wasn't the word she'd use. Maybe 'seeing each other'? No, that didn't seem right either. They weren't two high-schoolers making out between classes. 'Sleeping together' didn't feel right either, although it was true in the most literal sense. Tracy was so lost in her search for the right term that she missed Kat's answer. She shook her head to dismiss the thoughts. "What was that? You dropped out there for a second," Tracy bluffed. "I said I have a client all night. Sorry." Tracy sighed. "Okay." She had hoped that she could snuggle up to Kat after having had to be out in the rain. Even if it was only for a few hours. Sleeping like that was so much more restful than sleeping alone. "Aww. Were you hoping for some snuggles after you were done?" Tracy suddenly realised something. "All night, you said? Are they there now?" "Relax Häschen. It's not like they can hear you." "Still, you know I hate it when we talk like this when you have other people there." "You didn't seem to mind last week when Jessie and Uncle Dieter had us over for dinner." Tracy sighed again, almost rolling her eyes at Kat. "That's different and you know it. They think we're... you know, dating." Tracy cringed at the word. It wasn't like they hadn't gone on dates. But there was a big difference between 'going on dates' and 'dating'. At least in Tracy's mind. "We can have breakfast," Kat suggested. "Or maybe lunch. I don't know how late it'll be before I get some sleep." "Mmm-yeah. Breakfast sounds nice. Surprise me." Tracy knew that Kat could hear her smile. "Do you want me to wear my..." Tracy hesitated, "you know..." Kat laughed. "You can say 'diaper' Häschen. It iss not a naughty verd." She said the last sentence with an exaggerated German accent that made Tracy smile. "I know. It just feels weird to say it." "You know, it's funny. You have more trouble saying the word than you have actually wearing them." "Yeah, yeah. It's hilarious," Tracy said dismissively. "Scheiße, I have to go," Kat said as there was some noise in the background that Tracy couldn't identify. "Tomorrow, wear your diapers if you want to. Or not. We'll figure something out. Bye." "Uh, bye," Tracy said, but Kat had already hung up. "...I guess." She put away the phone and opened the car door, looking out into the downpour. Even before stepping outside, she imagined she could feel a greasy trickle down the back of her neck. Tracy grabbed her camera and checked the batteries. Almost fully charged. Before she slipped the strap over her head, Tracy made sure the waterproof casing was properly closed. Wouldn't want foggy lenses that I can't reach. Tracy stepped out of the van and found herself ankle-deep in a puddle that hadn't been there when she parked. "Damn." Tracy stepped out of the puddle and shook her feet to get some of the water out of her shoes. "Not exactly the greatest start," she said to no-one in particular. Grabbing a black, plastic briefcase and a small tripod, Tracy closed the door and locked it. The alarm activated with a quiet chirp. Then she trudged off into the bushes. Half an hour later, Tracy was in place. She was crouching in a bush halfway up a small hill. Below her was a footpath with a metal bench and a trash can with a couple of impressive dents. Tracy absent-mindedly wondered what could have made the dents. They looked too big to be from bikes, but the footpath was too narrow and twisting for cars. ATVs maybe? Tracy checked her watch: A quarter to one. In fifteen minutes, that trash can was going to be one of the richest trash cans in the city. Tracy shifted her weight, moving her knee out of the small brook that had appeared only minutes after she had settled down in her bush. Her mind drifted back to earlier that day. *** Tracy had been in her office, working on the final report to a client when there was a quiet knock on the door. Tracy checked the camera outside the door. Kat had insisted she install the camera and reinforce the office door after a case had gone badly, in a death-threat kind of way a couple of months earlier. Outside the door was a woman and man. They didn't look like a threat, so Tracy pressed the button to unlock the door. The lock buzzed and clicked and after a few moments, the couple entered. Tracy pushed her keyboard aside and motioned to the chairs in front of the desk. "Please, have a seat." Tracy found her trusty notepad and pencil. Then she pushed the phone to the middle of the desk. "You don't mind if I record this..." Tracy paused and studied the couple for a few moments. The man was sitting with his eyes lowered, turned slightly towards the woman, who in turn was sitting back in the chair with her legs crossed, looking relaxed and confident. Tracy figured that she was the one in charge. "... Ms? "Wilford," the woman said. "Nalah Wilford. And I'd rather you didn't. I don't want any of this coming out." "It's only to help my note-taking, but if you're uncomfortable with it..." Tracy picked up her phone and put it away. "OK Ms. Wilford, what's the problem?" Tracy tried to sound professional. "Marc here fucked up," She answered matter-of-factly. Tracy looked from one to the other and back and again. "I'm going to need a little more details than that." Ms. Wilford looked coolly at Marc. "Well? Tell her what you did." "There was this email, and I thought it was from Miss Nalah and I clicked on the link in it and-" "And the idiot opened a back-door into the system. Look, I couldn't care less that they hijacked his webcam and caught him undressing and getting into position for me under the desk in my office." "I-" Tracy began, a little taken aback. "I do, however, care that they caught me on camera as well. And as if that wasn't enough, they encrypted the entire system, locking us out." "And let me guess, they want money to unlock the system and not release the video." "Yeah, fifteen thousand." Ms. Wilford said it like it was more an annoyance than a serious sum of money. "Not to point out the obvious, but isn't this a police matter? Or at the very least, your IT department? Why hire someone like me?" "If we use yesterday's backups we lose all the logs from a crucial deposition, plus we'd look incompetent." Ms. Wilford glared at Marc. "And going to the police wouldn't get the files back in time for the trial either. I figured the simplest solution is to just pay them." "Okay? But then why hire me?" "Don't get me wrong, I'm not OK with what happened. I want you to find out who did this so I can make them regret it. And as for why you specifically? You came highly recommended from a business associate of mine. A Mrs Devereux?" "I see," Tracy said, trying to sound neutral since she didn't know how much Ms. Wilford knew about the case in question. "So, fifteen thousand. I'm assuming they didn't want to meet in some back alley with a suitcase full of cash." "Unfortunately not. They wanted the money in some stupid cryptocurrency, Ding-Dough, on a thumb drive, and they wanted Marc to drop it off at a specific location at 1 am. tonight." "So, in..." Tracy checked her watch, "...eleven hours or so. I'm assuming they gave the whole 'don't contact the police' warning or something like that. Will getting the money be a problem?" Ms. Wilford shook her head. Tracy put down her pencil. "Well, since they've been smart about the money, our best bet is probably to follow the actual thumb drive once your husband makes the drop and hopefully identify the blackmailers that way." "Oh please! Like I'd marry him." Ms. Wilford rolled her eyes. "I deal with enough fucked-up marriages at work. Marc's my personal assistant." And your executive stress relief toy, it sounds like. Tracy opened her desk drawer and rooted around in it for a couple of seconds before bringing out a bright yellow thumb drive. "Use this for the money," she said and handed it to Ms. Wilford. "Now, this is a rush job so I'm going to have to charge extra." "I expected as much. Camille told me the rates you charged her; I'll double it." That was more than Tracy had been planning on charging, so she simply nodded. "I also have a couple more conditions. First of all: My job is to follow the thumb drive, or the information on it, to the blackmailers without them realising it. That is, until they've given you the password to unlock your system. So until that happens, you're going to follow the blackmailer's instructions to the letter. Agreed? "Sounds reasonable." "Also, whatever you're planning for whoever did this, I'm not involved. Once I've identified the blackmailers, my job is over." "I wouldn't have it any other way." Ms. Wilford's smile sent a chill down Tracy's spine. It was like a cat watching a canary with a broken wing. Tracy decided she didn't want to get on Ms. Wilford's bad side. They spent the next twenty minutes getting all the details Tracy felt she needed. After Ms. Wilford and Marc had left, Tracy started planning. She would park a drone by the drop and follow whoever came to pick it up. Tracy opened the box of drones and checked the battery levels of the one with the best range. It only had a basic camera and microphone, but it was small enough to escape notice. After checking the map of the park where the drop-off was, she found that the drone should be able to follow the thumb drive to any of the parking lots in the immediate area. After that, it was just a matter of recording the licence plate and the traffic cameras would do the rest of the job for her. The thumb drive even had a tracker that she could activate remotely in case she lost track of it. If whoever picked it up scanned the drive for bugs, they wouldn't find it until it was too late. Tracy had to admit that she had a similar tracker on her car keys and that she had had to use it more than once. Content that all the technical preparations were done, Tracy went to bed. If she was going to pull an all-nighter, she should start out well rested. *** Movement on the path below brought Tracy back to the present. Somebody halfway hidden by a big, green and white golf umbrella, approached the bench. It was Marc. He looked around nervously. "Come on," Tracy mouthed silently. "Don't get creative. Just make the delivery and walk away." Marc fumbled in his pocket and brought out Tracy's yellow thumb drive. Tracy zoomed in on Marc with her camera as he kept fiddling with the thumb drive. He was turned halfway away from her so she couldn't see exactly what he was doing. "Come on," Tracy kept whispering inaudibly. "Be a good, little executive fuck toy and do what you're supposed to." As though he had heard her, Marc turned and looked in Tracy's direction. She froze, trusting her poncho, the darkness and the distance to hide her. That, and the fact that she had told Marc and Ms. Wilford she would be using her drones to track the drive. Eventually Marc looked away. Tracy slowly brought her hand back to her camera and zoomed out a little, letting it catch the area surrounding the bench. Eventually Marc stopped looking around. He looked down to his hand where the thumb drive was before tossing it into the trash can. Then he hurried off down the path where he had come from. Then there was just the almost sizzling, white noise of the rain pouring down. Tracy imagined she could hear a plink, plink whenever the faint, yellow street light flickered, but other than that, nothing happened. Suddenly, there was a flash and an almost immediate, deafening crash of thunder as the lightning struck somewhere nearby. Tracy thought she could see something in the bushes by the footpath. She switched the camera to thermographic, turning everything dark grey and black; everything except the bright heat bloom of somebody hiding in one of the bushes. "Now what do we have here?" She zoomed in, trying to get a good picture. Unfortunately, thermographics was never made for identification purposes, so the face remained an unrecognisable white blur. Tracy was so focused on the person in the bushes that she almost missed the movement by the trash can. Tracy turned the camera back and switched off the thermographics when she saw no heat signatures. Something reminiscent of a bug the size of a small plate was scuttling out of the trash, holding Tracy's thumb drive in its pincers. It fell from the opening, but instead of hitting the ground, it rose with the unmistakable whine of high-speed rotors. Shit, they're using a drone for the pickup. Tracy fumbled in her pocket for the remote control for the tracker. She pressed the button and the little light on the remote switched from red to a blinking yellow. "What the..." Tracy pressed the button again, but the light stubbornly refused to change to green. "Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit." Tracy reached for the briefcase on the ground next to her. She opened it and lifted the largest of her camera drones out from its foam housing. Unlike its smaller cousins, this one was capable of operating without Tracy having to steer it manually. In one fluid motion, Tracy switched it on and threw it up in the air. The rotors started up almost immediately and it rose up with a buzzing sound like the world's biggest wasp. Tracy had programmed it to follow the signal from the thumb drive, and failing that, it would try to track movement below. The amount of rain, however, made the latter option a long shot. She pressed the button on the remote one more time, but the light still didn't turn green. "So much for plan B," Tracy grumbled. She rose, leaving the briefcase and tripod with the camera, and ran down the hill towards the person hiding in the bushes. Whoever they were, they were her last chance of finding out what was going on. Tracy half ran, half slid down the hill, branches and twigs scratching noisily against her poncho. The figure in the bushes looked in her direction, obviously having heard her. There was a flash and a sharp crack of thunder. No, not thunder. A gunshot. The fucker's shooting at me? Tracy wanted to turn around, or hide behind something, anything. But her legs, apparently having made a deal with her momentum, just kept going. There was another shot, the bullet hitting the trash can with a metallic clunk. The figure turned and tried to run, but slipped on the mud and fell. The gun landed in a puddle, out of reach of both of them. Tracy dove forward, landing with her elbow in the man's stomach in a move that would have made a pro wrestler proud. The man folded up, coughing and moaning. Tracy picked herself up and was about to give him a kick when she recognised him. "Marc?!?" Marc was too busy gasping for breath to answer. "What the hell are you doing here?" "Help-helping Mistress Nalah," he wheezed. Tracy had a sinking feeling. "What did you do?" Marc rolled over on his side and tried to sit up. "Tracking bug," he coughed, "on... on the drive." "Gimme." "Wha...?" Marc asked with a bewildered look. "The bug tracker. Now!" Tracy demanded, trying to sound extra bossy in the hopes it would speed things up. Marc fumbled in his pockets and held out a small, cracked, plastic rectangle. Tracy grabbed it, noting the silver company logo above the small screen. TeraTech Electronics: Fantastic range, but shitty transmitter shielding. That could explain my tracking problems. Tracy left Marc in the mud and ran back towards her equipment. "Call 'client one'," Tracy told her phone as she struggled up the slippery slope. Ms. Wilford answered almost immediately. "Yes?" "Bullit here. Is the money still there?" "Yes, it's still all here," Ms. Wilford started. "No, wait. They just moved it." "Password?" Tracy suppressed a curse as she slipped and almost fell. "Not yet. Do you have them?" "No. Still working on it," Tracy said between gasps of breath as she reached the briefcase and knelt down next to it. "There was a complication. I'll call you back." Tracy hung up and pulled out her pocket knife. She used the screwdriver to pry open the casing of Marc's tracker, cutting a small gash in her hand when it slipped. Ignoring the stinging, Tracy examined the circuitry inside, quickly finding the receiver and reading its frequency from the little sticker on it. She dropped the tracker and grabbed the drone remote. The screen showed a map of the park and the drone's search pattern. Tracy input the new tracking frequency and the drone immediately picked it up, abandoning its previous pattern and homing in on its new signal. Tracy's phone rang. "What do you mean 'There was a complication'?" Ms. Wilford asked sharply when Tracy picked up. "I thought we agreed that you were to follow the drop-off instructions, or did I misunderstand something?" Tracy glanced back down to where she had left Marc, but he was gone. "Yeah, that's the deal." "So what's the deal with Marc sabotaging my plans by putting a cheap and obvious bug on my thumb drive?" "He did WHAT?!? Where is that little fucker? Is he still there? Marc! If you can hear this, don't bother coming to work tomorrow!" There was a beep from Tracy's remote control indicating that the drone was approaching its target. Tracy switched from the map to the camera view and the small screen showed a parking lot. There were maybe a dozen cars; no lights or movement. "Look, I still have a couple of tricks up my sleeve. With a little luck, whoever they are didn't notice Marc's bug, or if they did, they're going to be greedy and ask for more since you tried to track the drive. Either way, we still have a shot at finding them. it's just going to be a little trickier and take a little longer." "Just. Find. Them." Ms. Wilford hung up. Tracy left the drone in a holding pattern above the lot and picked up her equipment. Marc had already scurried off to wherever he stayed when he wasn't under Ms. Wilford's desk, leaving the gun in the puddle where he had dropped it. Tracy picked it up before heading for the car. She didn't like guns, but leaving it for someone else to find wasn't an option. Too many irresponsible idiots running around; and not just Marc. By the time Tracy reached the car, she was panting and sweating, cursing the poncho for trapping so much of her body heat. She put the camera and the drone remote on the passenger seat. Then she pulled off the poncho and threw it in the back along with the empty briefcase. For a little while, she just stood there, letting the rain cool her down. Then, before she got too wet, she got in and started the engine. The drive to the parking lot didn't take long; maybe ten or fifteen minutes. Tracy's attention was divided between the road, which was wet and slippery, but thankfully empty, and the screen showing her drone's bird's eye view of the parking lot. Only one car had left the lot since she started driving, and she had a good picture of the car and its licence plates. Hopefully the cameras in the area would help her get a picture of the driver. The thumb drive still hadn't moved, but Tracy hadn't had time to check if the car, or its driver, had been anywhere near it. Tracy picked up her camera and used it to quickly scan the lot. No heat sources; human or engines. As the drone slowly descended, Tracy saw the thumb drive in a puddle. She got out and carefully picked it up. To Marc's credit, the tracker dot that he'd put on on the drive at least matched its colour, but it was still obvious if you knew what to look for. And Tracy had no reason to think the blackmailers didn't. They had been smart about avoiding identification; cryptocurrency payment, drone pickup and quick transfer of the money. So Tracy doubted there would be fingerprints on the drive, but maybe she was lucky and they had screwed up. She put it in a paper bag and put the paper bag in a plastic box of rice she kept in the car precisely to dry out wet electronics. Even if there weren't physical fingerprints, there would be electronic ones. Tracy picked up the drone and put it in the back of her van before climbing in herself. She started the computer and began scanning for available wifi networks. Again, Tracy doubted that the blackmailers would have used an open network when they transferred the money, but at the moment, long shots was pretty much all she had. Thanks a lot, Marc. At least there weren't too many networks in the area. Tracy shuddered to think what the list would have looked like if this had happened downtown. Since pretty much everything in the area was closed for the night, there shouldn't be too much computer traffic to sort through. Tracy loaded a sniffer program to copy the details about the last twenty minute's traffic on the open networks. She noted down the names and details of the protected networks so she could come back the next day to check them out. She debated whether she should have the last can of energy drinks while driving home. On the one hand, it was late and drinking it might keep her up even later, but on the other hand, she was thirsty and really tired. The adrenaline rush of tackling Marc had been a great pick-me-up, but the problem was that as soon as it wore off, it seemed to take with it all the caffeine stored in her system. Concern for her fellow drivers won, and at the next red light, Tracy opened the can and emptied it before the light turned green. She grimaced at the taste. She would have preferred the original what-our-chemical-engineers-think-strawberries-taste-like flavour, but the store had been sold out and all they had had left were the we'll-pretend-this-tastes-like-kiwi-but-all-you-get-is-a-furry-tongue flavoured ones. But caffeine was caffeine, and hopefully, drinking it on an empty stomach would mean that it'd kick in quickly. By the time Tracy reached home, she had gone through most of what she called the energy drink caffeine cycle. She had seen individual air molecules vibrating, had tingly fingers and a pounding pulse. Now she was crashing; her stomach was grumbling and her brain itched. She parked in the parking garage across the street and made her way back to the office, being eternally thankful for her landlord having fixed the elevator. Tracy stumbled through the door. It was a struggle to even open the boxes with her equipment so it would dry while she slept. There was only one thing she wanted to do before getting out of her damp clothes and falling into bed. Tracy opened her fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. She knew better than going to bed thirsty. She peeled off her clothes, lay back on the bed and put on a diaper before wrapping herself in her blanket. After all, she also knew better than going to sleep with a rapidly filling bladder without taking some precautions. ***

"It's okay April. Nurse Ann will get you all cleaned up!"

Three Trains By Sophie & Pudding I'll be releasing this story over the next few weeks. It's about 5 chapters long, and all of it is currently available on SubscribeStar: www.subscribestar.adult/sophieandpudding Premise: Campbell and Harlow have been talking online for months, but they have never met in person. They plan to meet up at the train station in Harlow’s town, but disaster strikes when Campbell misses the stop. Is this a bad omen, or will Harlow find a way to salvage the date? Disclaimers: m/m, diapers, wetting, sex ----------------------------- The First Train People often talked about seasickness. Even car sickness was a thing! And general motion sickness to boot. But train sickness? Campbell had spent the last hour doing everything possible to try and stave off the waves of nausea and discontent. Clicky clacky. Clicky clacky. Clicky clacky. The scenery seemed to go by slowly. Campbell was full of anxiety: meeting someone for the first time in real life. It was such a stupid idea; online had so much more protection! Two screens at least. And some phone lines. Did the internet even still use phone lines? Campbell was so busy with the whole train sickness thing that the person who sat down across from him went completely unnoticed. Until they talked. "You know, Policy St. Station was the last stop?" "That's nice," Campbell mumbled, not looking up. "You look even cuter than in your pictures, you know." Pictures? Campbell finally looked up to see a familiar face. Familiar, like when you walk around a stranger's house and recognize people from one picture in the others. His heart skipped a beat. "Harlow?" He was taller than Campbell expected. A little stockier, around the shoulders and the ribs. His dark wavy hair was mostly hidden by a beanie, speckled with tiny dots of snow. He must have just gotten on the train. It really was him... "I knew you'd forget to get off at the station, you goofball. Probably had your head so deep in your phone that you didn't even notice. Probably worrying about something-or-other~" Campbell looked at Harlow. Then Campbell looked down at his phone, out the window, and then at his own lap. "I got trainsick… how did you even know I was actually on the train?" "I didn’t," Harlow shrugged. "You don’t seem like the type to stand me up though, so I figured there was some other explanation. Campbell stared dumbfounded; Harlow had put a lot of trust in him, boarding the train like that. "It sucks that you got trainsick," Harlow said. "Let’s get off at the next station." And then, just like in the movies, the announcer came over the train speakers to let everyone know that the next station was almost an hour away. "Well, that sucks," Campbell sighed, but his traveling companion didn’t seem fazed. Harlow had a presence about him that Campbell had only seen on TV. He went around the car asking for motion sickness medicine until he managed to find an older gentleman who had some left over from his flight last week. He gave Harlow two pills, who in turn gave them to Campbell. "It's remarkable how you can just go up to strangers and ask for things," Campbell said in awe. He took the two pills and put them in his mouth, drinking a swig from his water bottle. He never left home without his water bottle. How long until the medicine kicked in? "It's no different to when I said hello to you the first time on Discord. Or when I slid into your DMs," Harlow said with a wink. "Sometimes you just gotta ask for the things you want." With that sentiment hanging in the air, Campbell had no choice but to extrapolite. Harlow wanted him. It was a weird feeling to have; like sixty-three butterflies in his stomach arguing over whatever-it-is-that-butterflies-argue-over. Something worth getting all aflutter about. "Hah. You're even cuter when you blush," Harlow said, sitting next to Campbell once again. "I knew you would be. Nobody who uses blushy emojis as often as you do does so without having a super cute blush." "I don't think there's a strong correlation between the use of blushy emojis and actually blushing," Campbell argued, but in his case, the correlation was extremely strong. It was nearly 1. Harlow looked out the window, watching the scenery go by. "This is a little unfortunate," he siad. "I had ideas of places we could go, and now we are stuck on this train." "Oh, I'm sorry," Campbell said quickly. "I should have been paying more attention to the stops. This is all my fault." "Well, it is your fault you didn't get off at the right station," Harlow agreed, "but I'm here with you and the people mean more than the venue. And by the time we get to the station, we'll probably have gotten past the awkward phase, right? We’ll be all laughter and kissy kissy." Campbell didn't understand how people like Harlow existed in the world; hadn't he ever heard of anxiety? Did some people just go around being all normal? Wild. "Harlow, you know I've never..." "Kissed anybody, I know." Actually Campbell had kissed people, but it was never on his terms. It was pushy girls or social expectations, so they didn’t count to Harlow. "But we're gonna fix that little shortcoming; I promised that we would." A first kiss on a train was pretty romantic, Campbell thought. But the notion of kissing this man he'd only just met today... and what if he wasn't a good kisser? What if Harlow didn't want to see him anymore, after such an awful kiss. Campbell grew quiet and looked down at his phone. 44 minutes until the next stop. "I see you thinking! This is like when we roleplay, and you write these big long internal thoughts - but ah! This time I have the upper hand, because I've been writing with you for months. So let's take a guess!" Harlow tilted his head and pursed his lips, leaning around to look at Campbell’s face. "You are thinking... what if you're not a good kisser? Or worse, what if Harlow - and by that I mean me - isn't a good kisser? Am I close?" "The first one," Campbell laughed nervously. The thought that Harlow wasn't a good kisser didn't even cross his mind. Upon seeing him, Campbell knew without a doubt that Harlow would be a good kisser. Nonetheless, his skill at reading Campbell's mind was impressive. "Well, you have the home-field advantage. You got on the train first, so I think that’s how it works. Admittedly, I’ve never watched baseball, but that sounds right." Harlow grinned. He had a damn pretty smile for a boy. It kinda made Campbell melt a little bit. Harlow was just as stupid in person as he was online, but that seemed to put Campbell at ease. There was something very disarming about playfully stupid men. By the time the meds started to kick in, Campbell was feeling a lot more comfortable with Harlow. "Are you still feeling sick?" Harlow asked. "Less so," Campbell admitted. He checked his phone again. 35 minutes. "Rad. Because..." Harlow peered at Campbell’s phone with an analytical look and then moved his lips right to the ear of the latter; speaking in one of those 'kind of loud for a whisper, but still functionally private tones.' "That means I have 35 minutes to kiss you, and convince you that I'm just as smooth and dreamy in person as you say I am online." As time ticked on, Campbell wondered exactly how sincere Harlow's words were. Every movement Harlow made, every touch Harlow gave, every glance Harlow shot... each was dripping with intention. But none of them were a kiss. But they were holding hands. Or rather, Harlow was holding Campbell's hand in his, running his thumb along the back of it. Campbell checked his phone again, like he did every few minutes. 9 minutes. There were three minutes left on the clock when Harlow made his move. And it wasn't motivated by the time until arriving at the station. No, it was triggered by the passengers at the front of the carriage getting up and moving into the vestibule compartment in preparation to get off at the station. Harlow waited until the two of them were alone, because he knew full well that Campbell would be so much more comfortable with some relative privacy. Harlow put a hand on Campbell’s cheek to guide his face, and then he pressed his lips to Campbell’s. And with one smooth motion, he pushed him down onto the bench seat, and continued to kiss him. Kissing was a lot like it looked on TV, Campbell thought. His head was swirling with things he thought he should be doing, but each thought was buffeted away by another crash of Harlow's lips to his. One after another, until his thoughts were a senseless little puddle and there was nothing but the tingling on his lips. When it was over, Campbell's cheeks were pink and Harlow was hurrying him off the train. He stumbled behind Harlow, trying to keep his footing, until they were on the station platform and Campbell's labored breaths made puffs of misty fog in front of his mouth.