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If you've been reading this story, we have a fancy new 'part one' and the story will continue from the end of that to a first chapter of part two. If you haven't been reading this story, welcome, please enjoy a story that I'm very happy with and feel a deep attachment to the characters in. It is my sincerest hope that I can maintain this story to be enjoyable and interesting for however long it goes but if I can't, let me know if I start to dip in quality. Chaotic Infantile By: The Unknown Author Part One Family Chapter One A Night With The Girls “Why do we have to play this dumb game?!” Petra whined. The other girls seated around the dining room table nodded and voiced their agreements all at once, prompting me to raise my hand beside my head and bring my index finger to my lips, bringing instant quiet to the dining room and a satisfied smile to my lips. “Because I had to move my game night with my friends to stay here and babysit you lot.” I told Petra as I opened the box in front of me. Petra scoffed and brushed her black hair out of her face, her earlier play session knocking her pigtails askew. “We’re not actually babies, Zack.” she sneered. “You probably stayed so you could see a bunch of cute girls in diapers.” she added, getting blushes and giggles from the other girls. She was my wife first and my baby girl second, but the more I saw her dressed down in her infantile regalia, the harder it became to not inject the Daddy side of my personality into our every day life. When we’d met she was straightforward about her little side, laying all her cards out on the table before we’d even had a first date, and it was that bold fearlessness that drew me to her, but then she showed me how submissive she could be and that juxtaposition drove me absolutely wild. In all fairness, she wasn’t entirely wrong, I didn’t need to stay home and watch them, they were all grown women, but these same grown women had managed to stain several pieces of furniture with grape jelly from peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and somehow lose a dirty diaper that we didn’t find until three days later, turns out it had “magically” wound up behind the dryer, so needless to say I’d been very insistent with “adult” supervision on this gathering. “First of all, you know the rules about what to call me when you’re little.” I warned, eyeing her as I unpacked the box. She blushed and picked her pacifier up from where it dangled from the front of her pastel purple onesie and put it into her mouth. “Sowwy, Daddy.” she said through the thick bulb of her pacifier, scowling at her friends as they giggled at her being chastised in front of them. “Secondly, as much as I love my friends and my weekly game night, I think I actually do prefer watching you girls, but why shouldn’t I get the best of both worlds?” I asked, looking at the other three girls seated around the table, smiling warmly at them. Ducky, Petra’s oldest and dearest friend smiled back at me. Her name was Deandra, but she’d gotten the nickname “Ducky” years before I’d met Petra when they were feeding ducks at the park and Deandra had thrown a piece of bread too short to go in the water and gone to retrieve it from the grass when a great big goose had flapped it’s wings at her and scared her so bad she farted, making a sound like a duck quacking. Ducky was the same age as Petra and they’d known each other since birth, more or less, they lived two doors down from each other all through school and had gotten an apartment together after graduation, they’d experimented with a more romantic relationship for a time, but ultimately settled on being “Sisters from different misters”. “Unka Zack, what’s dis game about?” Ducky asked, slipping effortlessly into her little girl voice, something I would never get used to hearing coming from a grown woman, no matter how cute it sounded. Ducky was adorable in every conceivable way, her features tiny to match her slight frame, her Asian and African American heritage blessing her with flawless skin the color of caramel with almond eyes that sparkled green of all colors. Petra had established early on that Ducky was her “hall pass”, the one person she could sleep with that wouldn’t result in any negative reaction from me, and in return for my acceptance of this arrangement, Ducky offered herself to me with the same agreement she and Petra had, and we’d all agreed that that was acceptable, though I’d yet to cash that offer in, I wasn’t opposed to doing so in the slightest. I shook my head. “Not just yet, Ducky, I need to get everything set up before I explain the rules.” I told her calmly, watching over the top of my glasses as she picked up her bottle from the table and began to suck down the strong alcoholic concoction within. Illiana, the oldest of the group by a year or two shifted on her seat, her diaper crinkling beneath her tutu as she leaned forward and reached out for one of the dice on the table. I lightly smacked the top of her hand and wagged my finger in the air in front of me to admonish her further. “Not yet, sweetie.” I told her. She’d yanked her hand back as if she’d touched something burning hot and held it against her chest as she looked at me with her big, pitiful looking blue eyes, her bottom lip protruding in a childish pout. Petra and Illiana had met at the gym a few years ago and had hit it off in the sauna, somehow getting on the subject of kinks and lo and behold, another baby joined the party. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Petra had some kind of innate ability to seduce women into being adult babies given how many of her friends had show up at our house over the years with distinct bulges beneath their pants, any doubt to the nature of such a bulge being removed a short time later when they were brought to me for a diaper change alongside Petra herself. “Is it a hard game?” Rochelle asked. I’d met Rochelle exactly two hours earlier when she’d shown up at the front door, diaper bag slung over her shoulder, doubled up pink, princess adorned diapers straining against the fabric of her sunny yellow onesie. She was smaller and younger than both Ducky and Petra, so much so that I’d whispered my concern about the legality of her presence to Petra just after she’d arrived. Her dark skin made the brightness of her onesie pop as she sat at the end of the table, on a makeshift booster seat I’d had to rig up for her using a few books from my office/study, her lovely hair done up into twin puffs on either side of the top of her head. I smirked. “It’s probably much too hard for babies like yourselves, but we’ll make it work.” I told her. With the box empty and my Dungeon Master screen set up in front of me I looked out at the girls around the table, at least one of them was wet, the hint of ammonia beneath the mixing scents of baby powder and the booze in their bottle giving me pause. “Before we begin, does anyone need a change?” I asked. Ducky’s hand went up first, a proud smile plastered on her face, then Illiana’s, much lower and more sheepish, Petra shook her head and continued sucking her pacifier while Rochelle chewed her bottom lip nervously. “Not yet.” she said softly. Ducky, who was seated next to the girl giggled. “I fink she’s twyin’ to go poopy, Unka Zack!” she declared. I cleared my throat to keep my own laugh from escaping. “Rochelle, is that true?” I asked. Rochelle avoided looking at me and shrugged her shoulders as she looked down at the table. Standing up, I made my way over to her and knelt down beside her chair. “It’s okay if you are.” I told her. “Believe me, every one of these girls has given me a stinky diaper to change.” I said reassuringly. “Right, girls?” I asked the group. Ducky nodded. “I fink Petwa holds her poopies for a whole month just to make the biggest, stinkiest poopy she can!” she said, giggling wildly at her own statement. Petra crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared at Ducky. “Shut up, Ducky, everyone knows you poop the most!” she spat, her pacifier falling from her mouth. “Petra!” I said, my Daddy voice cutting through Ducky’s giggles like a knife through butter. “You know better than to tell people to shut up, apologize to Ducky.” I commanded. “But Daddy, she-” she started to whine. I stood up and looked at her for a moment. “Sorry, Ducky.” she said quietly. “What are you sorry for?” I asked. She sighed. “I’m sorry I told you to shut up, Ducky.” she corrected herself. “Good girl.” I praised. “Now, Ducky, you apologize for saying something mean to Petra.” I told Ducky. Ducky nodded obediently. “I’m sorry I told a fib about you, Petra.” she said, keeping her little voice but dropping the baby talk. Illiana tugged at my shirt. “Mister Klein?” she asked softly. I turned and looked down at her. “Zack, Illiana, please call me Zack.” I told her. She’d been coming over to our house regularly for over a year now and still insisted on being formal when she addressed me, it was endearing, but it made me feel like she wasn’t at ease which made me feel like I shouldn’t be at ease. “Zack,” she corrected, as though this was new information she’d just learned, “I think I might also need to do a number two.” she admitted. I nodded. “Okay, pregame time!” I said with a clap of my hands. “Everyone in the living room!” I declared, watching as each girl slid from her chair and crinkled her way to the living room, Ducky and Rochelle opting to crawl while Petra and Illiana toddled ahead of them. With all four of them gathered on the rug in the center of the living room I took a seat on the couch in front of them and leaned back with my arms stretched across the top of the couch. “The rules are simple, the first one of you to make a poopie gets an advantage in the other game while the last one to make a poopie gets a disadvantage.” I explained. Illiana raised her hand politely, waiting for me to approve her question before she asked it. “What will the advantage and disadvantage be?” she asked. I shook my head. “That’s a surprise.” I told her. “Now, everyone get into whatever position you need to.” I said, watching Petra get down on all fours, Ducky get up into a squat from her crawling position, Illiana bending her knees slightly, and Rochelle laying flat on her back with her feet in her hands looking every bit the infant she was playing. “GO!” I called out. The room filled with the sound of tiny grunts and strains that gradually built into muffled toots from each girl at one point or another until Ducky leapt up from her squatted position a short time later. “I winned, Unka Zack!” she cheered. I sat forward on the couch and pulled her to me with my hands on her hips, turning her around so I could pull back the top of her diaper and peek inside. “Ducky is the winner!” I declared, giving the lump in her seat a gentle congratulatory pat. Rochelle was the next to present herself for inspection and the next to assure she wasn’t going to lose the game, getting the same pat on the butt that Ducky had, producing a nervous giggle from the girl as she went to stand near Ducky. Illiana sighed loudly and walked bowlegged to me, cementing Petra as the loser once I’d finished my inspection and patted Illiana’s bottom toward the winner’s circle. “I’m sorry, baby, but you lose.” I told Petra as I stood up and walked over to her. She was starting to cry, she tended to do that when she lost games, especially when she lost games she was playing when she was little. “It’s not fair, Daddy!” she whined. I sighed and knelt down, scooping her up from the floor and hugging her tightly. “You had the same opportunity that everyone else had, sweetie.” I told her. She pouted and buried her face into my chest. “Maybe we need to put you to bed?” I asked rhetorically, knowing she’d snap out of her fake sorrow at the mere mention of being put to bed. She jerked back and shook her head. “No, please, Daddy!” she pleaded. I kissed the tip of her nose and patted her bottom softly. “Okay, no bed, but I do expect you to be ready for a change by the time I finish with these other little stinkers.” I told her. She nodded eagerly. “I will, Daddy!” she agreed, her body tensing up in my arms as she resumed her attempts to fill her diaper. ********** Nearly forty-five minutes later we were all back at the table, each girl had a fresh diaper and was dressed in her pajamas. Illiana was wearing a two piece sleep set made of soft cloth, the shirt and pants colored a soft pink and adorned all over with little images of sweets and ice creams. Rochelle was in a yellow footed sleeper that perfectly matched the onesie she’d arrived in, tucked away in her diaper bag for safe keeping. Ducky’s choice of pajamas was also one piece but had a hood that, when pulled on top of her head made her look like a panda bear, while Petra wore her fancy princess pajamas that looked like someone had mixed an elegant princess dress with a baby’s sleeper, it had ruffles and frills and was a lovely blue color that made her eyes sparkle. All of the girls were nursing their bottles of mixed drinks, some stronger than others for obvious reasons, but all were well on their way to various degrees of buzzed or outright drunk. “As the winner, Ducky gets an advantage in our game, and that advantage is that she’s the leader of the party.” I explained as I slid a premade character sheet down the table to the panda bear, watching her beam proudly as she picked it up and began reading it. “As the leader, she has an ability that forces each of your characters to consult her before making a choice and should she tell you no, you’ll be unable to do that thing.” I continued. “Like a Mommy?” Rochelle asked softly. I smiled and nodded. “That’s right, Rochelle, just like a Mommy!” I praised her warmly. “Can I tell everyone what to do?!” Ducky asked excitedly. I stifled a chuckle. “I suppose you could,” I said, putting emphasis on the last word, “but what if they don’t like being told what to do and leave the party?” I asked. She thought for a moment, her lips pressing down on her slightly protruding tongue, “I’d spank them if they tried to leave!” she declared. “I guess we’ll have to see how that goes for you.” I told her. “Now, because you didn’t win, Petra, your disadvantage is that you will be playing as the Bard, and your instrument of choice is the washboard.” I told her, sliding a character sheet in front of her. Petra looked down at the paper and then up at me. “Daddy, no!” she whined. I nodded. “I’m afraid so, baby.” I told her. She pouted and sullenly nursed her bottle. “What’s a Bard?” Rochelle asked. “It’s a person that plays music that helps the group,” I told her, “they sing songs that can make everyone stronger or make enemies weaker, things like that.” I explained. “But a washboard sounds so bad!” Petra whined. I nodded. “That’s why it’s a disadvantage, sweetie.” I told her, reaching over to gently stroke her hair. I slid the remaining character sheets to Illiana and Rochelle. “How about you all introduce yourselves to the rest of the party and we can begin?” I offered, looking to Illiana to begin. She picked up her character sheet. “I am Esta Reyqirelle, an Elven Ranger from a small forest village looking for adventure as well as treasure to aid my village’s struggling economy.” she read. “Umm, I have a panther familiar named Calla and she’s been my loyal companion since I rescued her as a cub from poachers.” she added. I nodded and looked to Rochelle who sat up on her perch of books. “I am Shilky, a Gnome Rogue!” she proudly proclaimed. “I grew up in a traveling circus and honed my thieving skills on the patrons that came to our shows, I’ve grown bored of the small jobs and am looking for a great challenge to test my abilities.” she concluded. Ducky didn’t even wait for me to look to her, but launched right into reading her own character sheet. “I am Naydri, a Half-Orc Barbarian!” she bellowed. “I rule my party with an iron fist and command respect and obedience from all that serve under me! I’m a veteran of countless battles and I seek to prove that no living being can match my awesome power!” she read excitedly, giggling cutely once she’d finished. Petra continued pouting as I looked to her. “It’s your turn, baby.” I urged. She shook her head. “I don’t wanna play if I hafta be a stinky, stupid Bard!” she whined. I sighed. “I guess we should put you to bed after all.” I said, moving to stand up. She sighed heavily and grabbed her character sheet. “I am Rosamund Day, a Human Bard.” she read in a monotone voice. “With my trusty washboard, I perform songs that are meant to aid my companions but the intricacies and complexities of the washboard sometimes fail to produce the desired effects.” she continued. “I seek to hone my skills on the field of battle and in the most dire of situations to become the greatest, if not most unconventional, Bard of all time.” she finished, tossing her character sheet onto the table with a petulant grumble. I patted the top of her head softly. “Try and get that attitude under control before we start or you’ll be playing from the corner with a red bottom, baby.” I warned lovingly. I cleared my throat. “I am your Dungeon Master, ladies!” I bellowed majestically. “I make the game and the rules and will guide you on your quest, testing you with traps and monsters, enemies and friends and we will see if you have what it takes to discover what lies “Below The Raven Queen's Garden” I said, throwing a dramatic cackle in for good measure. “How do we play?” Rochelle asked. “It’s like make believe, you pretend to be your character and interact with people and things within the world and I guide you and move the story forward until you win,” I explained. “Or die.” I added ominously. Everyone nodded their understanding and I began to read. “The carriage jostled and bumped along the dirt path carved out in the dense forest, four strangers and a panther seated within, having only recently disclosed their names and intentions to the rest of the group, they sit in silence as they travel to their destination.” “Bard, play me a song to pass the time!” Ducky commanded, a silly grin on her face as she looked at the still pouting Petra. Petra glared at her. “How do I play a song?” she asked me. “Just like you would in the real world.” I told her. She sighed. “I pick up my spoons and run them over the surface of my washboard to play a song for Ducky.” she said. “Naydri!” Ducky forcefully corrected. Petra scowled. “I play a song for Naydri.” she corrected. “Does the song have words?” I asked. Petra rolled her eyes and began to make up words to her song. “Four friends in a carriage, bouncing up and down,” she said, a smirk coming to her face, “if we check Naydri’s underpants, we’ll probably find them brown.” she finished, suppressing a mischievous giggle. Ducky pounded the table with her fist making each of the girls jump in their seats. “You dare to mock the mighty Naydri, Bard?!” she howled. “I do.” Petra told her, sticking her tongue out at Ducky. Ducky growled. “I’ll see your hind end tanned by my hand before this carriage ride is done!” she threatened. “The carriage suddenly jerks wildly to the right, careening off the path and coming to an abrupt stop as the sounds of gruff voices can be heard approaching from somewhere up the road.” I said. Rochelle fidgeted nervously in her seat. “I don’t think I like the sound of that.” she said quietly. “Fear not, Gnome, Naydri will keep your tiny body safe with her mighty sword!” Ducky declared. “Outside, the sounds of many feet and voices can be heard, their words indecipherable, but the menace and ill intent are all too clear.” I told them. Illiana sat forward. “I pull out my bow and kick the door of the carriage open, slipping out with Calla following close behind as I move to put the carriage between myself and our attackers.” she said. “With a cautious glance around the side of the carriage, Esta spies half a dozen Kobold, small, reptilian like creatures approaching with spears and bows and daggers at the ready.” I explained. “I barge out of the carriage and rush the stupid little creatures, roaring threats loudly to frighten them away.” Ducky explained. I smirked. “Roll the twenty sided dice, please, Ducky.” I said. She picked up the dice and rolled it, producing a five that she shared with the table. “Kobold’s don’t speak your language, so you get an automatic minus five to the check.” I explain. “The Kobold’s stare at you and then attack, saying things to one another that you can’t understand.” I told her. Ducky gritted her teeth. “I would like to murder them.” she said grimly. Rochelle cleared her throat. “I sneak out the small door in the roof of the carriage and climb down between the horses and into the trees to get around behind the Kobold’s.” she said. Petra giggled. “I scoot to the end of the carriage and play my washboard to drive them away with the awful sound.” she said. The battle commenced, Naydri slaughtered two of the more well armed Kobold’s while Shilky came up behind one of the archers and dispatched him with her daggers. Esta and Calla handled one archer and an enraged Kobold holding his ears to block the sounds from Rosamund’s washboard respectively while a single Kobold ran off into the forest at the sight of his comrades deaths. “We did it!” Rochelle cheered happily. I nodded. “With the threat dispatched, our heroes find themselves with some distance between their broken down carriage and their previous destination, but a gap in the trees shows the spires of a great castle off in the distance.” I told them. “We should check out the castle.” Illiana said. Ducky nodded. “I agree, we shouldn’t be out in the woods after dark, that Kobold could return to silence our terrible Bard for good.” she said. “Though I’m sure he’d run once he smelled the mess she made in her trousers.” she teased. “I did not!” Petra yelled, causing the other girls to giggle. Rochelle set her now empty bottle down. “It’s okay, Rosamund, I was scared too.” she said reassuringly. Petra glowered at her. “I’m going to learn a song that makes you all poop your pants and then we’ll see who’s laughing.” she threatened. “With the sun slowly sinking in the sky, you all begin your journey to the castle, the trek providing ample time to continue getting to know one another and work on being a more cooperative and kinder team.” I said, looking at Ducky specifically. “I’m hungry!” Petra whined. The other girls nodded in agreement. “Alright, we’ll take a break and get some food in those tummies and then we’ll see what mysteries the castle holds.” I said as I stood up and went to the kitchen to make a few of the frozen pizzas we’d bought for the night. A shuffling and crinkling caught my attention, finding Ducky standing in the doorway. “Are you mad at me for teasing Petra, Unka Zack?” she asked. I shook my head as I turned the oven on to preheat. “No, but if you keep pushing her she’s going to end up getting herself in trouble and having to go to bed.” I explained. “You don’t want her to be punished on your girl’s night, right?” I asked. She shook her head. “No, but I want her to play the game right.” she said. I went to her and picked her up, supporting her bottom with my thick forearms as she wrapped her legs around me and hugged me. “Sweetie, there’s no right or wrong way to play this game.” I told her. “It’s a make believe adventure and you all can play however you want to, but Petra would probably play better if you didn’t tease her so much.” I explained. She nodded and leaned back to look at me. “I’ll be nicer to her.” she told me. I hugged her and patted her back softly. “Good girl.” I told her before setting her down. “Why don’t you go see who needs more party juice, okay?” I asked. As I watched her scurry out of the kitchen I smiled, happy that I’d smoothed over the building tension that would’ve ended with a tantrum and at least one spanking and early bedtime, and curious as to what these girls were going to do when they saw the things I had in store for them. To Be Continued…

Laura is 30 years old and has just come home from a long day at the office. She decides to go into her inner child and puts on a diaper to relax in.

Looking for Gold Coast and Brisbane abdl’s for meet up

This is a story I've been working one for the whole weekend. I think it has a lot potential. So far I've written 13,419 words, and have taken her through her first week of training. Most of that is her first day of training. The part that I'm releasing is taking up to her first day of training., because I haven't been able to edit most of what I've written. This plot has a lot of potential, and a lot of side stories that can be explored. Regressed Adult Institute Jill Holderbank had just graduated with a degree in psychology and was looking for an internship for her PHD. Originally, she thought she would go into Child Psychology, but then something caught her eye. Dr. Kimberly Fels. Dr. Fels was an expert on young adults, particularly those who hadn’t developed any sense of adult responsibility. She developed a program called R.A.D.S, which stands for Regressive Adult Development System. Dr. Fels started R.A.D.S as a method to take aimless adults and help them develop responsibility to function as typical adults. According to Dr. Fels, regressive adults (RAs) , were really just small children, more like a pre-k child than an actual adult. However, since adults have full autonomy over their lives, it is difficult for the RA to process that freedom. They just aren’t ready for that level of autonomy, and they need to have that autonomy taken away, much like you do with a small child. Her definition is any adult over the age of twenty who doesn’t have full-time employment and doesn’t have the ambition to change. Jill was drawn to this program because it specifically hit her family. Her older brother Scott was twenty-five years old, and still living at home. He had a degree in Economics, but it didn’t do him much good. Since college, Scott had a few jobs, but was so irresponsible that he didn’t even last two months. He slept most of the day and played video games all hours at night. Her dad had tried some tough love moves, and had even kicked him out of the house, but Scott couldn’t cope on his own. And then there was her best friend, Chelsea. Or we should say, former best friend. Chelsea and Jill had been friends since kindergarten but had gone in opposite directions after high school. Jill enjoyed college but worked super hard and maintained good grades. Chelsea was the classic spoiled brat. Her father paid for college, but she was far more interested in partying, shopping, and the whole social scene. She failed out of college, and at twenty-three was still living like a teenager. She loved both of them but wondered how she could help them become real adults. The RA Institute was just a non-descript building that looked like any other medical office. She had heard rumors what went on there, but nothing quite prepared her for what she saw. She parked the car and walked towards the lobby. Right in front of her was a young lady pushing a stroller. The girl looked to be just out of high school, and even from behind, Jill could tell there wasn’t a baby in the stroller, or even a young child. Jill noticed the young lady struggling to open the door, so Jill walked up to hold it open. As she got close, she noticed the child was not a child. It was a young man sucking on a pacifier. It was hard to tell how old he was based on the clothing he was wearing, but Jill estimated him to be in his twenties. “Hi Mikey!” The receptionist chimed as the young lady pushed him through the room. “Are you being shy today?” It was the type of words you would use with a four-year-old. The young lady, “Yeah, I think he is embarrassed. I have class this morning, and nobody can watch Mikey. Can I leave him in the daycare?” “Certainly,” and then turned her attention to Jill. “May I help you?” “I’m Jill Holderback, and I have an appointment with Dr. Fels.” “Oh, you must be interviewing for the intern position, I’ll let her know that you are here.” The lobby looked to be very much like a normal medical office. The kind that Jill had seen a number of times. She reviewed the information that Dr. Fels had provided. R.A.D.S. A program for regressed adults to support their gradual transition into adulthood. In this program, RAs go through six stages before they are ready to graduate from the program. · Stage 1: Diaper Training and regression o RA Regressed to Level 2 o Diaper conditioned o 1 to 3 months · Stage 2: Maintenance o Levels 4 to 7 o RA maintains level 4 for 2 to 3 months · Stage 3: Reintroduction o Level 8 to 11 § RA given responsibilities · Stage 4: Independence o Level 12 to 19 § RA gains gradual independence § RA allowed employment · Stage 5: Training o Level 20-Potty training · Stage 6: Completion o Monitored independent learning. o RA must maintain 12 months of employment o $10,000 in savings Jill looked over the levels. They started out at Level 1, which had the RA completely restricted with no privileges. Each level seemed to add certain privileges, like later bedtimes, but she noticed that the RA wasn’t even potty trained until Level 20. Dr. Fels came up to Jill and said, “Are you Jill?” “Yes, it’s an honor to meet you Dr. Fels.” Dr. Fels was dressed in a dark dress suit, which showed that she was a strong female who demanded respect. Dr. Fels said, “Please call me, Kim.” Dr. Fels went on to say, “Out here, we demand that RAs use titles, but all of the adults here are on equal status.” Jill followed Dr. Fels to her office. She walked by a room that looked like a typical nursery, but inside she saw what looked like adults dressed as children. Dr. Fels said, “That’s our daycare. We only have a few RAs in the program, so we are using it for training prospective nannies.” Dr. Fels asked Jill the typical interview questions, and then asked if Jill had any questions. Jill first asked, “Yes, the levels seem to coincide with biological age, but you don’t introduce potty training until the end of the program. You said that the program can take up to four years, which seems like a long time in diapers.” Dr. Fels laughed, “We found the diapers to be integral in the transformation. We need to take the regressed adult to infantile stage in order to allow them to progress. This program is sort of like a reset. If you think about it, potty training is one of the first moves towards independence that I child can make. They learn to independently take care of their own bodily functions, and we find that it makes the most sense that it be the last thing an RA regains.” “Can you explain how you came about this program?” Kim sighed and took a deep breath, “Well, this might surprise you. Are you familiar with Female-led-marriages?” Jill had heard of the term before but was still a little naïve at twenty-three years old. “Kind of, but I’m not really sure.” It’s a marriage where the power dynamic is switched. Instead of the male being the head of household, or even an equal member, the male submits to the wife entirely. In my opinion, the male mind is entirely too immature for that level of responsibility. My husband is a good man, and had a good job, but he was lazy. He first agreed to the FLM, but there were still problems. Eventually I gave my husband a choice. Submit to full-time diaper discipline or move out. It surprised me, but he agreed to wear diapers full-time. And I noticed an immediate difference right away. He accepted my authority and we stopped fighting right away. We have a much happier marriage. Being the psychologist that I am, I used my nephew as a guinea pig. And it really worked. That kid was lazy, and he ended up graduating with a degree in engineering and has a great job. He is still immature, but at least he is no longer living off his parents. He is his wife’s problem now. “So did your husband ever get to level 20?” “Oh no, it’s not always about progressing through the levels. I’m sure you’re aware that some adults aren’t ever going to grow up. They just need to stay as children. Sometimes they just find a level that is right for them. For my husband, it’s level 4. I can take him out as an adult, but he can only handle that for short periods. The rest of the time, he is my little diapered man.” Dr. Fels continued, “in reality, the R.A.D.S program isn’t really a linear program. It’s more to help families deal with regressed adults in a structure. Since they are really just little children in adult bodies, it makes sense to treat them as small children. We are just starting, but even those who eventually get out will probably still need some level of support. For most, just the threat of the program is enough to change their ways. Most cases we see don’t even qualify for a consultation. In those cases, we usually give the RA a deadline to gain some level of maturity, and show they can be self-sufficient, and over 80% meet the deadlines. And since they are adults, the RA must willingly submit to the program. Mind you, most of them have few alternatives. But this program can provide the structure that they need.” Jill was intrigued. She thought about her cases. She hoped that just the threat of living like this would be enough to mend Scott’s ways, and nearly positive that it would work with Chelsea. And even though Dr. Fels had strange methods, she was one of the most respected psychologists in the world. Jill would be working very closely with her, which is something that few people would ever get. It was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. “Has anybody ever graduated from this?” Dr. Fels then called in the receptionist. “Ms. William’s, can you come in here please?” The young lady came in and said, “Yes, Dr. Fels?” “What level are you at today, Debbie” Debbie immediately took on a juvenile tone. “I was at level 18, but I stayed up late and now have a bedtime. I’m hoping to get potty trained by Christmas.” Jill couldn’t help herself, “Are you wearing a diaper?” Debbie began to shake her head, hoping that Dr. Fels wouldn’t see. Dr. Fels lifted the back of Debbie’s skirt and Jill saw the plastic pants. She felt Debbie’s diaper. “Just a little damp, and no poopies.” Dr. Fels excused Debbie, and then explained. “Debbie has been with us for three years, and she’s been doing great. You can tell, she is a great employee. I’d start her on potty training, but I think Dr. Robert’s wants her to stay in diapers.” Dr. Fels finally asked, “Are you interested?” “Yes, it sounds fascinating. Just working with you would be fascinating.” “Well, before you say yes, I should let you know about training. The first step is to train you as a nanny, and that would require you to spend at least a week in the daycare.” “That sounds reasonable. I’d probably need to know how it works and working the daycare would be the best way.” The idea of changing an adult’s diaper wasn’t enough to dissuade Jill from this opportunity. But then Dr. Fels continued, “I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t start working in the nursery. You have to be regressed. We find that it helps nannies if they have experienced it. So, all employees must spend time in the nursery. Even me.” That definitely put a wrinkle in Jill’s plans. A full week in diapers and living as a four-year-old. But then the more she thought, the easier that answer seemed to be. She couldn’t pass up the opportunity to work with Dr. Fels. And one week is nothing. It might even be relaxing. No responsibilities for a whole week. Finally, she emailed the institute: I accept the offer.

Im 20 years old and live in the UK, i use 16fr foley catheters to stimulate incontinence and i have done it every weekend for the last year or so, does anyone else use catheters as a way to lose bladder control ? Thoughts on this?.

I was curious how other mommies and daddies here handle their little ones. I have been a mommy for a long time. I have been with all kinds of adult little boys and girls and have tried all kinds of methods to keep them feeling small and infantile.

I've read on many an AB/DL forum how much of the community says they have aspergers or autism spectrum dissorder, and that they wear because of an innate desire for comfort and to solve sensory issues. Now, I am officially diagnosed with aspergers level 1(just autism spectrum dissorder now-a-days) and I know that I used to wear out of a sexual desire which over the years took on more of a comfort desire, that is now both comfort and necessity. My question is this: do you or someone you know in the ABDL community, if you are OK posting the answer here, have autism spectrum dissorder? If so, do you think it contributes to your/their lifestyle as a AB/DL in any way?

My wife of 40 years had died. Nancy just died she was 60 years old. She didn't have a stroke, heart attack, Covid 19, cancer. The coroner couldn't give me a reason why she died, that didn't stop her from being dead. I was a widower. I was a year older and at 61 years old. l didn't know what to do Nancy was my life. I did love her, you can't live with somebody for 40 years. If you don't love them. After l had buried my wife l still lived in town. It had been a year since l had burried Nancy. I was getting on with life the best I could. One day about a quarter of a mile away from my house there was a bulldozer that was flattening off the top of a hill. I didn't give it two thoughts. I didn't know why they were flattening the top of the hill. A couple of days later l could hear and feel them using a machine that was tamping and packing the dirt down. Next few days they began drilling for water. I thought maybe they were going to put a new water tank in town. We had another tank that had been built in the summer of 1978. I thought, this was a replacement. A day or so later they started putting a foundation. I was sure it was a new water tower. It was a week later before i saw the the tank again. This time l realized it wasn't a tank, it was a huge house, had to be 5500 square feet or bigger., Somebody had money, l know it wasn't me! A few months later, l was hanging out at the store, l was eating Fish and chips. Now the store was different than most other places. It had a Small Store, Cafe, Laundry Mat, it had a trailer park in back where people parked their RV's and spent the summer here, they also had showers in the bathrooms you could rent. It also used to have the Post Office. A lady walked in. She was short l would estimate 5 foot, 5 foot 1. She was beautiful she was wearing a white tee shirt that was tucked into her short Daisy Dukes, she had on cowboy boots she had a straw cowboy hat on. She sat at the counter next to me. She asked " What's good here?" Addressing me. "Pretty much everything on the menu, the Philly Cheese Steak is really good. Thats what I normally get but Fish and chips sounded good today!" "The fish and chips good?" "Yes, very good!" "I think that is what l'll have!" She ordered her fish and chips. "I'm Joy Anderson and you're?" "Sorry, l had a mouthfull of food. I'm Russell Irons." I said after swallowing my mouthful of food. After extentding my hand. "Russell l love that name! I have a nephew named Russell!" We sat and talked for a while. I found out she was the one that had the house that was made on the top of the hill. Somebody with money. She found out I was a local and not just here for the summer. She was moving here and would be a local as well.

Hey everyone! It's Sophie! Pudding and I have been writing a few short stories recently so I'm just going to post them all at once. If you like them and want to support our writing, please check out our Patreon: www.patreon.com/sophieandpudding This one actually comes from an ABDL web-zine we worked on, starring 22 talented writers and artists! You can download it for free at: https://princessmolly.gumroad.com/l/nursery-warp-2021 The illustration at the end of the story is by JuiceBox! Check him out on Patreon at: www.patreon.com/JuiceBoxArt -------------------------- Lost in Translation Written by Sophie & Pudding Translations by Lilyblax Illustration by JuiceBox Premise: Grace Gardener travels to France to visit her old crush, Violette. Resolute in her plans to tell Violette how she feels, Grace is constantly stymied by unexpected foreign customs. Will Grace be able to admit her feelings in time, or will she become Violette’s little girl instead? Disclaimers: diapers, wetting, messing, French -------------------------- "Here's you go, Miss Gardner." The flight attendant passed me a pillow with a bright smile. Every time she looked at me, she seemed particularly happy. Or maybe that's just what you pay for when you buy first class. I settled back in my chair and tucked the pillow under my head. Outside the little window, the sky was the darkest blue and the moon was the brightest white. I couldn't see the ocean beneath the clouds, but I knew it was there; there's not much else between New York and France. I'd never been outside the United States before, but I couldn't turn Violette down when she asked me to visit. Violette and I had been best friends all through high school, but she went back to Paris for college. After she graduated, she moved around a lot until she settled in a French city that I would embarrass myself trying to pronounce. In high school, I had a huge crush on Violette. She was unwavering in her optimism and unfettered in her confidence. She made me do things I would never do on my own, things I haven’t done since. But even as we said our goodbyes, I couldn't work up the courage to tell her how I felt. Somehow, this trip felt like a second chance. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking. I closed my eyes and let the hum of the airplane lull me to sleep. When I woke up, the sun was pouring in through the little window and an overhead voice was addressing the cabin: "Nous allons commencer notre descente dans quelques instants." I rubbed my eyes and sat up in the seat just as the pretty flight attendant appeared at my side. "Good morning, Grace," she said with that same bright smile. "We will be landing shortly, so let's get you all buckled up." Unexpectedly, the flight attendant bent down on one knee - so we were the same height - and pulled the seat belt over my lap. She clicked it shut and pulled the strap tight. Then, as she stood back up, she patted me on the top of my head. I stared incredulously as she walked down the aisle. "That was weird," I muttered to myself. Maybe I was reading too much into it. Before I was fully awake, the plane began to lilt forward and dip into the clouds. I pressed my forehead to the window to see the vast, grassy hills as they emerged from the fog. A small city grew ever closer, until I could see cars on the streets and people on the sidewalks. With a jolt, the plane landed on the runway and I let out a sigh of relief. I didn't even realize I'd been holding my breath. People all around me started to get up and gather their bags. I pulled at the seat belt around my waist, but I couldn't figure out how to unlatch it. Maybe it had a lock or something? The cute flight attendant passed by and I reached out to get her attention. "Excuse me. How do I unbuckle this?" "Be patient, Grace," she smiled. "I'll help you after the rest of the passengers are through." "But..." I tried to protest, but the flight attendant was addressing the crowded aisle in French. I sunk into my seat and pouted. I guess I didn't have a choice, did I? I watched as families and businessmen walked past me. Sometimes they would look at me and smile. Sometimes they would wave. A few women would speak to me, but I didn't understand what they were saying, so I would smile and nod. I could have sworn most of the passengers spoke English before we left. While I waited, I fished around my bag for my English to French phrasebook. I'd been studying it all summer, but I suddenly couldn’t remember a single one. Maybe I just needed a quick refresher. "Grace?" I looked up from my book at the flight attendant. Everyone else had left the plane. "What are you reading, hm?" "I... uh. I'm just trying to remember some phrases," I stammered. "Oh? Do you have a favorite one?" I started to notice her sunny disposition could be taken as condescension. "No," I muttered, looking at the cover of the book. I'd just reviewed ten different phrases, but I couldn’t remember any of them. "That's okay, honey," she said. "It's hard to learn new words." I sulked at the implication. Effortlessly, the flight attendant reached down, unbuckled my seat belt, and helped me to my feet. My legs felt a little wobbly after sitting for so long and she had to hold me up until I caught my balance. "Do you need a, um..." The flight attendant paused to think of the word, as though she didn't speak perfect English. "Push chair?" "No, I'm alright." I didn't want to be in a wheelchair the first time Violette saw me in five years. I was trying to make a good impression! "Okay then. Follow me." The attractive, condescending woman - was I just describing French women in general? - led me off the plane, holding me by the hand in a way that was altogether inappropriate. Was this a cultural thing? It had to be a cultural thing. But after we entered the airport and the flight attendant let go of my hand, I was overwhelmed with longing. My hand hadn’t been held like that in a while. “Vois-tu ta maman quelque part?" she asked. I stared blankly at the flight attendant. "Is someone meeting you?" she asked in English. "Oh, um. My friend Violette. She’s a little shorter than me, with blue-green hair." I looked around for signs of my friend, but the flight attendant took me by the hand once again. We were halfway down the terminal when I caught sight of Violette's teal tips. She always dyed the ends of her long, wavy hair. I thought she would get over it after high school, but she still sent me pictures each time she picked a new color. "Violette!" I shouted, waving my free arm. I managed to pull my hand out of the flight attendant's and run a dozen or so feet down until my arms were around Violette. She smelled like cinnamon and snowy mornings. I melted into her like chocolate fondue. "Gracie, je pensais que tu t'étais perdue!" she laughed. I didn't know what she said exactly, but it was wonderful to hear her voice. After the hug, I looked up at her with a touch of confusion. "You’re taller," I realized, at least a few inches taller than me. I checked her shoes, but she wasn’t wearing heels. "Ou alors tu as rétréci," Violette said. Then she turned to the flight attendant and started a conversation in French. I tried to wait my turn, but the longer it went on the sillier I felt. I couldn’t understand a single word… I tugged Violette’s sleeve to get her attention. "I'm so sorry, my darling," Violette apologized after looking at my expression. "I know those words are hard for you, and you must be oh-so-tired after your long trip.” She kissed the flight attendant on the cheek, which made me a little jealous. Then Violette took my hand in hers to led me to the baggage claim. "I slept on the flight," I explained as we walked. "And you don't have to..." Hold my hand? I'd longed for her to hold my hand for years, so why was I going to complain? I decided to stay quiet instead, a blush on my cheeks. "You're going to love it here," Violette said in a dreamy voice, pulling me along by the hand. I was having trouble keeping up with her and my legs still tingled from the flight. Every few sentences, Violette would slip into French and I would lose her train of thought. When we got to the baggage claim, there was only one bag left: a pink one with cartoons on the front. Violette went to grab it but I pulled her back. "My bag is green," I told her. "It's the same one we took on our camping trips." Violette tilted her head and said, "This is the one we took on our camping trips, you silly little sweetroll." "What? No, mine’s green…” Despite my protest, Violette grabbed the bag and read the tag out loud: "Petite Madame Gracie May Gardner." I narrowed my eyes and pushed in front of her to read the tag myself, but the words... they didn't make any sense. Maybe they were in French? That made sense, right? But why would my name be on a bag that wasn’t even mine? Unless... "Could the airline have switched my stuff to a different bag?" Maybe there was a problem with my suitcase and this was the only one available. But Violette didn’t seem to care about the luggage mystery. "Come now, Gracie." Violette pulled me along in one hand and pulled the rolling suitcase along in the other. I followed her halfway across the room before I was out of breath. I pulled on her hand until she stopped. "I need to sit down for a minute, Vi. My legs are killing me..." Thankfully, there was a bench only a few steps away. Airports were notorious for sitting space. "Je devrais peut-être trouver une poussette," Violette mused, looking around the open baggage lobby. I sat on the bench and pouted. "I can't understand you when you speak like that," I told her sharply, with as much assertiveness as I could muster. "And why are you calling me Gracie?" "Quel autre surnom pourrais-je te donner, princesse?" she said, still speaking French and glancing around the room. “English, please. I don't understand it when you—" "Ah!" Whatever Violette was looking for, she seemed to find it. She ran off with all the whimsy of a woodland sprite and I was left alone with the pink suitcase. I spoke quietly to myself: "I can't tell if this is going well or not..." I took a moment to look around the airport; I could hear the sounds of cars outside and the chatter of people, but none of them were saying words I could understand. Even the words written above the baggage claim or the signs at the help desk were gibberish to me. I felt like a stranger in this world, and when Violette came back pushing a giant stroller I was sure that was the case. "What the fuck is that?" I demanded. "C'est une poussette pour une princesse qui a fait un très long vol." I didn't understand her, but the question was rhetorical. It was a baby stroller, but it looked like it was sized for an adult. The metal was painted pink and the cushion was decorated with little cartoon princesses. Even the buckle and harness were bigger, easily enough to accommodate a fully grown woman. How did something like this even exist?! Then I realized why she had brought it over in the first place. "No," I said seriously. "No way." "Gracie." "No!" I shouted a little louder. "I’m not getting in a stroller!" A few people nearby turned their heads to look at me and I felt sick with embarrassment. "The car is parked very far away," Violette said. "At least twenty minutes walk." I hesitated. A twenty minute walk? I could barely make it to the baggage claim, and my legs weren't feeling any better. "Maintenant, sois une gentille petite fille—" Violette began, but I cut her off with one loud word: "English!" "You aren't going to learn any adult words if I keep speaking to you like a baby," Violette said harshly. A few more people turned to look at us and I sunk into the bench in shame. Violette had never spoken to me like that before… "I don't know what you're so upset about," Violette sighed, softening her tone. "Why do you think the airport has these? It's normal." I looked at the oversized stroller. Normal? I had never heard of adult strollers in France before... but why else would it be in the airport? I put my thumb to my mouth and bit nervously on my nail. "You're sure?" I muttered. "Tout à fait normal pour les filles de ton âge," Violette nodded. "Monte." With a bit of difficulty and a lot of reluctance, I climbed into the giant stroller. Violette buckled me in and I leaned back as far as I could to hide myself. This was so humiliating. Violette pushed the stroller through the baggage claim and outside to the parking lot. I kept waiting for someone to laugh or point at me, but even as dozens of people passed, no one gave me more than a cursory smile or a pleasant wave. Out of courtesy, I would sometimes wave back. Was this really normal? True to Violette's assessment, the car was parked a full twenty minutes walk away - a distance that now, in retrospect, I knew I couldn't have walked on my own. How ordinary was it to feel so weak after a long flight? What did people call it? Jetlag? Yeah, that had to be it. There was a brief flash as Violette took a surprise photo of me and I opened my mouth to protest. "Cela fera une belle couverture pour notre scrapbook!" she said. "Violette..." I actually sounded whiny. "This kind of thing may be normal in France, but you have to ask before you take my picture in a baby stroller." "Ne fais pas d'histoires. Je vais prendre plein de photos de toi et de tes nouveaux amis. Des amis français." I pouted. She wasn't going to stop this French nonsense, was she? But maybe she was right: maybe this was the best way I could learn the language. As Violette packed my suitcase into the trunk of her car, I fumbled with the buckle on the stroller. But no matter how I tugged or twisted or pulled, I couldn't seem to free myself. By the time Violette came over, I was red with irritation. "It's stuck! This stupid thing... I swear all the buckles in this stupid country—" Violette pushed my hands away and clicked open the buckle on her first try. I looked up at her with red cheeks as my frustration turned to embarrassment. How did she… but she lived here. Of course she had experience with this stuff. Right? "Monte, Gracie." Violette held open the door to the back of the car rather than the passenger seat, clicking her tongue impatiently. I rolled my eyes and climbed into the car. There was a car seat strapped in one of the seats. That was weird; Violette didn’t have any kids. I sat next to it and - before I could even find the seatbelt - Violette clicked her tongue again in disapproval. "In the car seat, silly," she explained in English. "I… what?" I stared dumbfounded. This had to be a joke… "It’s the law, Gracie," Violette said seriously, crossing her arms over her chest. No way that was true. Americans had to sit in car seats? She was taking this too far! "Vi, this is stupid…" I muttered, looking at the huge car seat beside me. It was definitely big enough to fit an adult and I was starting to notice a trend. I didn’t remember reading anything about this online, and I’d done a lot of research on French customs. But all those people we walked past in the airport… there was no way they were acting. "We can’t leave until you get in," Violette said. "So unless you want to live in this parking lot…" I glared up at her, but her confidence was unshakable. I knew Violette; she would wait here until the end of time if she was trying to prove a point. At least the car seat was in the privacy of her car - it was much less embarrassing than the stroller. "I still think this is stupid," I muttered, lifting myself into the carseat with deep annoyance. "You're American," Violette giggled. "You think everything is stupid." Violette wasted no time reaching down into the car and strapping me in. Another buckle I didn't understand. Once again, I was trapped. Violette put the car in Drive and turned to look at me. A warm smile spread across her face. "Tu vas être si mignonne quand nous rentrerons à la maison. Une jolie couche, une jolie robe, des nattes. Mon Dieu." "Based on your tone," I muttered, trying to close my legs with the buckle pulled between them, "it sounds like you’re flirting with me." "Very good, Gracie!" I stared incredulously into her rear-view mirror, catching sight of her smile as she said those words. Violette was actually flirting with me? I bit my lip and sunk into the carseat. Maybe not everything was stupid. The car ride was predictably dull, but the view was gorgeous. Outside the windows, the city buildings were never more than three stories tall and the rolling hills made a beautiful backdrop. All the streets were only two-lanes, and we even drove on the correct side of the road. I kicked my feet idly, nowhere near touching the floor, and let my imagination take me to Violette's house. Did she have a room for me? Or was I staying in her room? I never asked. Then a strange feeling pulled me back to reality. Out of nowhere, I really had to pee! I hadn't gone even once on the plane; I hated public bathrooms more than I hated anything! But it never mattered - I had an iron bladder - until that very moment. "Hey, um. How much longer until we're there?" I wiggled awkwardly in my carseat, shifting side to side. "A little while yet, Gracie sweetie." That was not the answer I was hoping for. "Like... five minutes?" I was kicking my legs a little faster now, and I'd have crossed them if I could. "Tu vas finir par faire pipi dans ma voiture, n'est-ce pas ? J'aurais dû te changer à l'aéroport." "Hey! I don't know what you're saying but you sound annoyed." "Let's play the alphabet game, Gracie, would you like that?" "Umm..." I really had to pee, but maybe the distraction would help. "I guess..." It was a lot harder to play the alphabet game when you can't read any of the words! All the street signs and storefronts were in French, and I didn't know how to pronounce any of it. Even if I saw the right letter, I didn't know how to say the word. And there weren't any billboards like there were in the States. I only made it to letter D before I felt a heat pool between my legs, soaking into the denim of my jeans and pooling under my butt. At first I didn't understand what was happening, and then I realized I didn't have to pee anymore. Before I could figure out what to do, tears filled my eyes and my lip started to tremble. I couldn't let Violette see me like this! If she did, she'd never like me! "Oh tu as eu un petit accident?" Violette cooed from the driver's seat. "N-no, I'm fine!" I answered, not understanding the question. "I'm just... just tired! Um..." I fumbled for the buckle as tears spilled down my cheeks. I had to get out of this thing before we got to her house. I kept wiping the water from my cheeks but it wasn't doing me any good. I couldn't hide my tears no more than I could hide the accident I had. Within minutes, we were pulling in a small stone driveway in front of a cute two-story condo. Violette got out of the car and opened my door. "No, go away!" I shouted, shoving at her hands, but small slaps on the tops of them shut me up. She reached forward, unbuckled my seatbelt, and lifted me up out of the seat. I cried as she sat me on my feet and took a look at my jeans. "Pauvre chou, allez, on va rentrer à l'intérieur et te changer." I turned to face away from her so she couldn’t see, but the back was even worse than the front. My butt was completely soaked and I couldn’t look up from the gravel driveway. "Je vais te retirer de ces guenilles et te donner des vêtements plus appropriés." "Please stop talking in French. Please, I—" My words were interrupted when Violette pushed my thumb between my lips. In the span of two heartbeats, my anxiety began to trickle away. I wanted to pull my thumb out of my mouth, but it was the first time since I'd wet myself that I felt like I had some level of control. Everything around me was so new and scary: the country, the customs, and then my accident. Even Violette was acting strange. But with my thumb in my mouth, it felt slower. Manageable. Was this why babies suck their thumbs? I couldn't even remember the last time... Violette took my hand and led me up the stoop and in the front door. I felt like a two year old following her mommy around: soaked pants on display for the whole neighborhood. But somehow, with my hand in hers, I felt safe too. When we were both inside, Violette closed the door behind us and I took three steps into her foyer. The house wasn’t particularly big, but the open living room and kitchen made it seem gigantic. I mustered every ounce of willpower to pull my thumb from my lips and turned to look at my best friend. "I'm so sorry," I told her. "So sorry about your car, and... and I didn't mean to... I promise it will never happen again. I promise..." "Ne t'inquiète pas, je ferai en sorte que cela ne se reproduise plus," Violette said with a warm smile. She walked up the stairs with my hand in hers and I followed a step behind. With my free hand, I kept rubbing my eyes. I felt so foolish. The whole day had been a terrible disaster. How was I ever supposed to ask Violette out now? I would be lucky if she was still my friend after all this... At the top of the stairs, there was a small landing with a toy chest in the corner and a soft looking rug in the center of the room. In the corner, there was a rocking chair. Then there were two doors. As I was led past the first one, I peered in to see a bathroom. So then... Violette and I were sharing a room? But when she opened the door, I could never have expected what I saw. It was like any adult's room: a dresser, a queen-sized bed, a full-length mirror, and a closet. But on the far wall, there was an alcove maybe a quarter the size of the room itself. It was set into the wall, trimmed with white moulding, and a small butterfly nameplate above it - near the ceiling - reading "Gracie". The alcove itself was painted pink - a stark contrast to the neutrality of the room itself - and decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars. Against the back wall was a huge white, wooden crib. On the other wall, there was a table with a thin mat on top of it, like a changing table. And lastly, a set of ten square shelves were stocked with stacks and stacks of diapers. I stared dumbfounded at the dichotomy of Violette's room - of our room - and shook my head in disbelief. This was... no way. "What the hell is this?!" I shouted, anger and confusion filling the space where my embarrassment was only a moment ago. How could she do this?! "This is your home, Gracie,” Violette said simply. If she was intimidated by my display of ferocity, she certainly didn’t show it. She nudged me inside the room and closed the door behind us with a little click. "I mean it, Vi! What... what is... what the hell? You think I don't see how big those things are? You think 'oh Grace will just think they're for some kid' - I'm not even staying here! I'm going home on... on... um..." Why couldn't I remember...? "Oh mon Dieu, quelle crise de colère!" "I can tell when you're being condescending!" "Le français sonne comme ça," Violette laughed, but I wasn't amused. I shoved past her and twisted the door handle. It didn't open. Then, faster than I could blink, Violette spun me around and pinned my back to the door. She stepped closer to me and cradled my cheek in her hand, rubbing her thumb across my face ever so softly. She leaned in so our lips were only a few inches apart and I felt my heart race in my chest. Then she tilted her head and kissed me once on the forehead. The warmth spread through that spot on my skin like the wetness through my jeans, filling me up with emotions. But rather than fear and shame, I felt... safe. "I'm so happy you're here, Gracie," Violette whispered, tracing her free hand down my side and to the hip of my wet pants. I had to remind myself to breathe. "Moving to France was the hardest thing I've ever done... I've worked for years to make a life for you here. For us. I never wanted to leave my little girl behind..." I had no idea what she was talking about. I was never her little girl before! Right...? But the more I thought about it, the less sure I was. Her optimism was unwavering; she always told me things would be okay, no matter how scary they seemed. Her confidence was unfettered; she always told me I was safe with her, no matter how unlikely that was. She made me do things I would never do on my own - she made me hang out with the other kids, talk about my feelings, and accept everything that I am - things I hadn't done since. But even as we said our goodbyes - a forehead kiss at the airport and a final crinkle of her hand on my hip - I couldn't work up the courage to tell her how I felt. Somehow, this trip felt like a second chance. "Do you really wanna be a big girl, Gracie?" she asked, a nervous smile on her beautiful lips. But somewhere in me, I knew she deserved an adult. That's what I'd been trying to be for so long. So I nodded my head. "I am a big girl," I said assertively, or as assertively as any girl in pee-soaked jeans could manage. "Then you'll say it with big girl words," Violette said, then took a step back. “Veux-tu que je te remette des couches pour le restant de ta vie? Veux-tu être ma petite fille? Je sais que tu l'es déjà." I stared dumbfounded at the girl of my dreams. She'd asked me a question, and it was clear she wanted an answer. But I had no idea what she was asking. I knew, without a doubt, if I told her to try to speak English, that I would always be a baby-babbling little girl to Violette. But if I answered wrong... I couldn't come back from that, could I? I tried to read Violette's face. She stood with a smile and excited eyes... eager? Curious? Or did she know that even if I answered correctly, I could never know for sure. She could pretend she asked a different question and I would never know the difference. In truth, I wasn't answering Violette's question. I was letting her decide my future. My choice didn't matter: only hers did. In that way, I really was just her little girl. "Yes," I said, with the utmost confidence, not knowing to what I was agreeing. "Tu es sûr?" she asked. I didn't know what it meant, but I could read the intent. She was asking for confirmation. "Yes," I said again. "Okay," Violette said, speaking my baby-talk language for the last time. I felt like I had crossed a threshold, like I was taking a step I couldn’t come back from, and the feeling was literal when Violette led me by the hand into the nursery nook. My cheeks were red as I looked at the changing table, at the crib, at the diapers. "On va te changer, ma petite fontaine. Tu dois être tellement mal à l'aise dans ce pantalon mouillé." Her voice and cadence were so melodic as she unbuckled my jeans and peeled them down my legs. Next went my panties; she prompted me to step out of them as they reached my ankles. I'd daydreamed about Violette undressing me countless times, but never like this. I could never have imagined it would be like this… naked from the waist down, soaked in my own pee, and standing adjacent to an adult-sized changing table, in an adult-sized nursery nook, filled with adult-sized diapers and an adult-sized crib. Next to Violette, I felt the very opposite of adult-sized. Violette reached for the hem of my shirt and pulled it up over my head. Instinctively, my arms raised and I was standing in just my bra. She took a step closer and leaned in; my heart raced as our lips closed in on each other, but she turned her head and our cheeks touched. Her arms wrapped around me and unsnapped my bra, pulling the straps down off my arms and leaving me as naked as the day I was born. I looked up in her eyes with tears in mine, overwhelmed with shame and fear. But her smile seemed to take it all away. "Violette..." I muttered, a plea for her to stop all this. I couldn't be a baby. I wasn't a baby! "Maman," she corrected, a stern look in her eye. A felt a rush of heat in my face and electricity up my spine. "Maman," I repeated... the first and only French word I knew. The only one that mattered. "Gentille fille," Violette smiled, and though I didn’t know what she said in words, the pride of her sentiment made me warm inside. She pushed me back ever so slightly until my bare butt hit the changing table. I looked up at her, biting my lip, and she gave me a supportive nod. "Lève." I didn't need a translation for that one. I slid back on to the changing table, like it was a doctor's table, but Violette wasn't having any of it. She spun me by the ankles and pushed me gently onto my back. I looked up at the glow-in-the-dark stars - unbearably dim in the afternoon sunlight - and knew that my cheeks were shining much brighter. I felt Violette's hand on my thigh, trailing her fingers up to my knee, and pulling my legs apart. I had imagined this moment so many times, but never like this. I felt something cool and wet against my thigh. It made me jump, but Violette hushed me. "Du calme, ma petite princesse. Maman est juste en train de te nettoyer." I shivered in place as I figured out she was wiping me clean with a baby wipe from the changing table. She moved slowly and deliberately, rubbing the insides of my thighs and then between my legs. She was cleaning me up because I pissed my pants like a... like a… As Violette stepped across the nook to the cube shelves and I heard the crinkling of plastic. She turned the simple act of a diaper change into something sacred, like it was a ceremony. In a way, it was. She unfolded the diaper in front of me, standing at the side of the changing table. In my peripherals, I could see the plastic unfurl, crinkling sounds filling the air. I watched the wings as she pulled them apart, huge and wide like the arms of a hug. And the print on the front was so infantile, with baby blocks and teddy bears. How had she gotten them in my size? How had she gotten this table, or that crib, or that stroller at the airport? Why was everyone - from the flight attendant to the people in the parking lot - so comfortable with seeing me as an oversized baby? The only reason I could think of was the obvious: this was normal. Violette lifted my legs by the ankles. She raised them high in the air so my butt was off the table, and then - when it came back down - it rested on the soft padding of the diaper. The scent of baby powder filled the air and I sunk deeper into the changing table. I felt so fresh. Clean. Pure. Any parent could tape on a diaper in two seconds flat. Practice makes perfect, right? But the way Violette did it was perfect in a totally different way. She took her time, adjusting every little part of the plastic to be symmetrical. She pulled the thick center between my legs and pressed it to my hips. She folded and creased the wings so that each tape was pulled tight and snug across my body. She drew lines with her fingers around the legbands, checking for anywhere I might leak. And when she was satisfied, she patted the front two times, sending a shiver up my spine. By the time Violette pulled me up to sit on the table, my head was swirling with things I'd never felt before. Important. Adorable. Protected. Loved. Why would I ever want to be an adult, when I could be her little girl? If I had an answer at one point, I certainly didn't anymore. "Tu as été une si gentille petite fille. Maman est si fière de toi. Allons choisir une de tes plus belles robes." I was oblivious to her words, but the tone of her praise melted me from the inside out. She picked up the suitcase she had brought up with us and laid it down on the changing table. As I moved, even a little bit, I crinkled; I harmonized with the zipper of the case opening. When she pulled out the pretty sundress that was too short to cover my diaper, I anxiously put my thumb to my lips. "That's not mine, Maman..." "C'est dans ta valise, Gracie. Cela signifie que c'est la tienne. N'est-ce pas?" I nodded, agreeing to something I didn’t understand, although I knew what would happen next. She would put me in that dress and it would be mine. Sure enough, after a word of praise, Violette pulled the dress over my head and lifted me onto my feet. She took me across the room to see myself in her full-length mirror. As she tied my hair into pigtails, I stared at the hem of my pink sundress and the diaper it failed to conceal. There was no going back now... Once my hair was done, Maman clipped a ribbon to my dress. She took the pacifier hanging off the end of it and popped it in my mouth. The girl in the mirror was nothing but a baby, through and through. So when I felt my tummy gurgle, I knew the was no point in asking. But what little adulthood I had left demanded I ask anyway. "Maman," I muttered, turning to face her. I spoke with a lisp around my pacifier. "I gotta go potty…" "C'est à ça que servent tes couches, mon ange. Nous le savons toutes les deux." I looked up at Maman with resignation. I didn’t know what she said, but it didn’t matter; I knew my fate. Just in case I forgot, my tummy gurgled again to remind me. It was unavoidable, inescapable, and approaching inevitable. Long ago, maybe a lifetime ago, I knew when I needed to use the potty and I could make it there in time. Now, I wasn’t sure I even wanted to. I did my due diligence; I did what my adulthood demanded of me. I asked, even though Maman and I both knew it was all for show. I had to ask, because she had to say no. It was performative. Distantly, somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear the echoes of shame and humiliation begging me to defy Maman. As those pleas fell on deaf ears, I watched the girl in the mirror. I saw a blush on her cheeks and the way her teary eyes shined with longing, a longing for things to be easy. She wasn’t happy with what she was about to do, but she was happy for the praise that would surely follow in words she couldn’t possibly understand. Maman wrapped her arms around me, rubbing my tummy through my dress, and whispered softly in my ear: "Je t'aime, Gracie." Though my dumb baby brain couldn't translate her words, my dumb baby heart could feel them more clearly than anything I'd ever known. I stared at Maman in the mirror and bit my pacifier. I didn’t want to hold it, even if I could. So with my Maman’s arms around me, I bent forward just a bit and began to push. At first, nothing happened; I thought maybe I wasn’t a baby after all. Then, with a second push, I felt the seat of my diaper expand and fill. It was so easy. Nothing in my life had ever been as easy as messing my diaper, and that's how I knew I was never meant to be an adult. [END]

Hey everyone! It's Sophie! Pudding and I have been writing a few short stories recently so I'm just going to post them all at once. If you like them and want to support our writing, please check out our Patreon: www.patreon.com/sophieandpudding -------------------------- Bnuuy Brainwash By Pudding *Author’s Note: I wrote this as a birthday gift for my favorite dumb bnuuy, Claire, and she was gracious enough to share with you all. Premise: Claire is a new initiate in the Dependent program, where she is regressed to a full-time baby. What awaits Claire in her new life? Disclaimers: brainwashing, hypnosis, diapers, wetting, messing -------------------------- “You can’t do this to me!” They always said that, without fail, without exception, as though that very simple and defiant proclamation might have changed their fate. What did they expect would happen when they said that? Did they fancy that the fate chosen for them would suddenly and miraculously be reversed? That the very extensive program designed purely and strictly for this purpose would just do an about-face and decide that they indeed couldn’t do this? Regardless of motivation, it was all academic at this point anyway; once a person was nominated to undergo this conversion, there was no turning back, or reversing the process, or presence of an off-switch or anything of the sort. And beyond a doubt, the program worked — it had worked on thousands of other people before this little bundle of sass and spunk, and it would work on thousands and thousands more after her too. She was certainly attractive, with brown eyes that shone with intelligence and thought, an adorable nose and a smile that was best described as too pretty for a girl as clever as she was. Although presently, smiling seemed to be the last thing on her mind. Rather, she wore a scowl with all the efficacy of a child; much more of a pout than anything intimidating. It wasn’t hard to see why someone might want her transformed into a Dependent. What was her name? Claire? That was a pretty name, and suitably juvenile too. A glance at the chart revealed that her wife had nominated her for the program, citing in her application that Claire was often lost in daydreams and fantasy worlds, and couldn’t be trusted with adult tasks. Which was in no way to say she wasn’t capable, just that when given the choice she’d always rather lose herself in passions than devote herself to something meaningful. Just like any child, really. “Oh, you know, they always say that Claire.” “But!” she scrunched up her nose and shook her head, “maybe other people deserved it, but not me, I’m not supposed to be here. My wife-” “Is the one who sent you here, yes, that’s very good!” There was a brief and delightful silence from the girl as her pretty brown eyes fell under the weight of her frowning, and she tried to figure out if that was true or not. This, too, was all too common. She’d probably see it as a betrayal, rather than the act of love that it had been. “She wouldn’t, she loves me, and… and and and…she wouldn’t do this to me.” Bingo! “And it’s because she loves you that you’re here, Claire. My name is Miss Pudding, although you don’t really need to remember that for very long - you won’t be in any state to call an adult by name, soon enough.” “Pudding!” “That’s right, sweetheart! That’s my name,” the woman clapped her hands in quiet and singular applause, and continued, “and you’re Claire, although I’m to understand that your Momma-to-be has something more appropriate in mind as a pet name for you.” This was about the time Pudding expected Claire to realize the gravity of her situation, and the brown-eyed-beauty certainly didn’t disappoint. She looked around slowly at first; as the fire in her heart faded and the metaphorical smoke was given a chance to clear. She was in a room with lilac walls and carpet, lacking any other defining features apart from the bed she was strapped firmly down to by the wrists and ankles. “Please, please please, you gotta let me go…I won’t tell anyone, I won’t, and I’ll um…” Tears were starting to pool at the edges of those pretty pretty eyes, and she really did look beautiful, especially in such a state. “You’re trying too hard, Claire; there’s no escape and by the time we’re done with you, escape won’t even be something you want. So just relax and try to enjoy yourself.” There was a click sound as the lights went down, and as though the lights had been her own eyes, Claire faded quickly into sleep. * * * When she woke up, Claire wasn’t in the lilac room anymore, and she wasn’t in the bed, and she wasn’t in the dark. Around her she could hear the busy chittering of what sounded like children, although she couldn’t focus on them right now; she was so awestruck and stunned by what she was wearing: a gingham dress in lilac that flowed over her body the way that snow painted a layer over the world in winter. Wearing a pretty dress was right. Something thick between her legs that she immediately lost focus on if she tried to think about it. That was right, too. And something in her mouth that a part of her brain told her was a pacifier and a louder voice inside of her told her was okay. Promptly, defiantly, she ignored that voice, and spat the thing out from between her lips. The pacifier fell only far enough for the momentum to be arrested by the clip attached to her dress. She could feel panic trying to rise in her chest, both fueled and suppressed by the final realization that she wasn’t alone anymore. Her eyes looked around, panned the horizon from her place sitting on the floor, and she saw now what she’d thought were children. Her brain tried to tally them up, although any counting past four seemed to get jumbled, and so she concluded there were simply ‘lots’. Lots of adults, dressed in pretty outfits. Dresses and shortalls, onesies and skirtalls, footed sleepers and cute polka-dotted ensembles. The largeness of the room made Claire feel very small by comparison. Claire winced and rubbed her head; feeling braided plaits that danced and pulled under their own weight of hair and ribbons. Something didn’t feel right; her head didn’t feel right, her thoughts didn’t feel right. None of this felt right, or sensical, or familiar. A voice that reached out to her did feel familiar, though. A voice she knew, a voice she trusted. “Hello again, darling girl.” Looking up at the woman who stood above her, there were a lot of floating thoughts in her head. Safety. Happiness. Trust. Miss Pudding. And another name that came to the forefront the way a message might in a magic 8 ball: Nana. “Nana…?” Claire felt uncomfortable with that word; she felt conflicted. Like it was the most natural thing in the world, and like it was the first time she’d ever said it. Moreover, her voice felt strange… or her choice of words, maybe. Like most of the words she reached for flittered out of her reach. “What happened… what… what did you do to me, Nana?” The standing woman knelt and put her hand on Claire’s cheek with a warm smile – the kind of smile that made Claire flush with warmth for reasons she couldn’t understand — and spoke to her in words that felt like honey; sweet and thick and sticky. “Nana didn’t do anything you didn’t want, sweetie.” “She… she didn’t…?” Claire felt so confused. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here. She remembered the Lilac Room, and she she remembered the darkness, and she remembered… swimming? No. She remembered sinking. And then floating. She remembered feeling scared, and then safe, and then… her memory felt foggy. Or maybe it felt like it was receding the way that waves did after they crashed upon the shore. Nana had such a warm smile and such pretty eyes. How had Claire never noticed that before? How had she never noticed those pretty blue eyes? She wanted to look away and found herself patently unable. A voice in her head told her that it was okay to float in those waters, and that Nana loved her. Of course Nana loved her. Obviously. “What… what is this, Nana?” She tugged at her dress, at the pretty purple gingham material, and managed to look away just to look down at it. There was an oddness between her legs she was still aware of; a thickness, a foreign strangeness. And just as soon as she focused on it, her attention fluttered away like a butterfly all over again. “It’s your dress, Claire. A pretty pretty dress for a pretty pretty girl.” “For a pretty pretty girl…” Claire mused quietly, trying to see if the words fit as well as the dress did. “That’s right, darling! You’re Nana’s Pretty Girl! How’s your drawing coming?” “Drawing…?” Claire felt ever more confused, but her eyes scanned the floor where she was sitting for any sort of answer and found a sheet of paper with a crude drawing of a three stick figures in dresses, holding hands. “Oh!” Suddenly, Claire was awash with enthusiasm and excitement as she started to point fervently at the paper. “This is… um… this is um…” And just as quick as the excitement came, it gave way to foggy confusion. Quicker still, a three-tone chime sounded in the room and every single person paid attention. Claire couldn’t be sure what it meant, but as sure as she knew Nana loved her, she knew that the tone was important! “It’s time for your favorite game, darling, you should hurry!” Nana encouraged her, and Claire nodded. She knew which place she liked the most. The one with the lilac game controller, the one next to the fingerpaints and the fairy wings. Quick as she could, she crawled over to the small, curved screen by the nearby wall and sat herself down in front of the display, taking the oversized controller in her hands. An image of a bunny came to life, and Claire heard herself giggling happily. Colors flicked up on the screen, and she pushed the buttons, and her mind floated away into a happy bliss of lights and colors and instructions. * * * “I dun’ feel good, Nana…” There weren’t any sounds around her anymore, just the walls of the Lilac Room. Claire sat upon the bed, and Nana sat next to her. How had she gotten here? How long had it been? Her tummy twisted in anxiousness, and she squeezed her thighs tight around what she knew for a fact was her diaper. That made sense. “You need to go for another swim, darling, that’s all. Are you ready?” “A swim…?” “Into The Blue.” Claire might not have been feeling good, but those words made the most sense to her. She loved The Blue, almost as much as she loved her Nana and her Momma. The idea of getting to visit made her giggle happily, and it took all her energy to steel herself and focus and calm, before obediently staring into Nana’s eyes. * * * “I’m a baby.” “I’m a little baby.” “I love my Momma.” “I love my Nana.” “I can’t take care of myself.” “I’m a baby.” “I’m a good little baby.” “I love my dresses.” “I love my diapers.” “I’m helpless.” “I’m a baby.” “I’m a dumb and happy little baby.” “I love being a baby.” “I love being dependent.” “I’m too pretty for thoughts.” “I’m a baby.” “I’m a diaper-dependent, incontinent, devoted little baby.” “I love my Momma.” “I love my Nana.” “They do the thinking, Claire does the stinking.” “I’m a baby.” “I’m a beautiful, brilliant baby bunny.” “I’m too pretty for thoughts.” “I’m helpless, obedient, pretty, and submissive.” “Thoughts for for grown-ups, diapers are for Bunny.” “Bunny obeys.” “Bunny listens.” “Bunny is a baby.” “Bunny is better this way.” * * * “I’ma bunny…baby…baby bnuuy…” Claire wasn’t sure why she said those words, but her thoughts swirled with words just like those, and each one of them felt as true and genuine and real as her looking at the grass and saying it was green. And Bunny was so good at colors! That’s why she wore a purple dress in her drawing, and Nana wore yellow, and Momma wore teal. Bunny was in the middle, holding hands, and that was the best bestest place for her! “Nananananana!” Claire giggled as she felt Nana lean down next to her and slip fingers under her dress to check her diapers. Bunny wore diapers. Claire was Bunny and she loved her diapers because of course she did! There was a heavenly and familiar musical chime, and she didn’t even need to be told – she had to get a best high score with the pretty rabbit! She hadda get to 72! Claire crawled across the foam tiled floor and plopped down between two other babies that were just like her, and she took the purple controller awkwardly in her hands. “Bunn--nnyyyy!” She giggled at the heterochromatic rabbit and pressed all her buttons just the way she was told. Bunny loved to be obedient! Helpless and Obedient and Pretty and Submissive. Bunny HOPS! * * * “Oh my goodness, darling, someone’s a stinky little princess, isn’t she?” “I can’ helps it Nana… I was sleepsin an’ I’ma baby…” “That’s right, darling! Messing in your sleep during nap time is very normal for a girl your age.” Distantly, a part of her brain told Bunny that she didn’t used to do that. That she didn’t used to play with the others until she got tired, and then go to sleep on the floor in the playroom, and then poop her diapers. But that didn’t make any sense at all, and that was why Bunny didn’t do the thinking. Bunny was too pretty for thoughts, after all. Helplessly, she let Nana pick her up and put her against her hip. Had Nana always been so big? It didn’t matter. All grown-ups were much bigger than Bunny was, and that was because and also proved the fact that, she was a baby. Bunny and Baby both started with a B, and she sure didn’t know many more letters than that, so it had to be true. Obediently - as though this routine had happened a thousand times - she cuddled into Nana like a koala as she was carried over to the changing room. Prettily, she smiled. Her giggle was so vacant, and her eyes were glossy and happy and empty. Bunny sucked her fingers all the way there, until Nana put her binkie back between her lips. Submissively, she laid down on the padded changing table and kicked her feet happily. “You’ll be ready to go home soon, and see your Momma. Won’t that be wonderful?” “Yuh yuh yuh! I wanna see my Momma ‘cause she’s a good an’ I love her an’ an’ an’!” “And she’ll be so proud of how your conversion is progressing, darling.” “Yuh yuh yuh Momma gonna love my this.” While babbling back and forth with her Nana, Claire knew a few things. She knew that this adult woman was changing her very mushy diaper that she had no recollection of using, and that there were countless others who could just look over and see. She knew that she’d gotten so much smaller since being here, and she knew that she needed her diapers beyond doubt. She knew that she heard Nana’s voice in her head, and her words were always the right thing to do. She knew that she was a baby girl. She knew that she loved her Momma. She knew how much she loved to play her bunny game on the screen, and how much she loved her binkie, and how much she loved her drawings. She knew how much happier she was now. And she knew how much many more happy it made her to be told what to do. Burning deep inside of her, Bunny knew she was created to please and fulfill and make people happy. “All changed!” Nana smiled, patting the front of Bunny’s diaper with a sense of accomplishment. Already, Bunny couldn’t wait to get down off the changing table and get back to playing. “Nanananana I wan’ play an’ I wan’ draw an’ I wan’ make more drawings for Momma!” “Well you’d better hurry, Bunny, you might see your Momma sooner than you think.” With her brown eyes filled with determination, Bunny nodded her head earnestly. “Bnuuy will draw lots of the pictures an’ make lots of good an’ give Momma LOTS of smiles!” True to her Nana’s prediction, it wouldn’t be too much longer before Bunny’s Momma came to get her, and ordinarily that moment of parting would have been a bittersweet one indeed. Of all the caregivers at the conversion nursery, Nana was most known for her imprinting on her charges and sending them back out into the world was always an event of mixed feelings. That made it especially wonderful that Claire was to be a part of a new program where she’d have a state-appointed caregiver relocated to live just across the street from her and to assist her Momma in her continuing development. And, of course, it only made sense for her appointed caregiver to be her Nana who she already loved very, very much. So as Bnuuy drew another picture of herself with her Momma to one side and her Nana to the other, as she hummed and wriggled her diapered bottom as she wet herself without a care in the world, she’d occasionally mutter a few words to herself and giggle. “’…an’ they liveded happy evers afters…” [End.]

Jennifer is 30 years old and has been working since she was sixteen. She has had the same job as a bank and the stress has gotten to much for her so she decides to go online and find someone to help her relax.

Katherine or Kay for short is the head of tech company but in her spear time she is a adult baby. She is hoping to keep it her secret until one of her employees sees the back of a diaper that she is wearing.

I have posted this on my Patreon for some time now, and have decided to start publishing each chapter a month elsewhere. I’ve found this story to be one of my better stories I’ve written thus far. I hope you can enjoy the golden apple I’ve worked hard on! Vampers Halloween Trial A Diapered Fantasy By Takumi41 Chapter 1 The Vampire’s Lore This world is filled with many beings. Small as a tiny lily, giant as the trees in a forest. Animals roaming the plains, humans dancing down the streets. However, this world doesn’t just have mere mortals that exist. A parallel world houses what humans consider “monsters.” These monsters can be beasts, witches, and even vampires. Though these monsters may seem scary, they do not chase after humans. In fact, the majority of them live in isolation. I can tell you that is the truth because I am one of these “monsters.” With enhanced physical abilities and sharp fangs, I am a vampire. My name is Viki, and I’m a twelve-year-old vampire girl. Growing up as a vampire on this side of the world hasn’t been difficult. As I mentioned before, with isolation, vampires normally don’t socialize. So, for all these twelve years, I’ve lived, I haven’t talked with a single human once. But I have always given it a serious thought and still wonder why we never do socialize with them. If I could, I would change that. That has been something I’ve dreamed about ever since I was younger. As a vampire, I do have sharp fangs. So as a precaution, I’m pretty good at not showing my teeth to give it away. Unlike many beliefs there are of our kind, we vampires do not bite living beings to suck their blood. In fact, we don’t drink blood at all. Another misconception is that we don’t shapeshift into other forms either. Despite our fangs, we don’t have many differences from the others, including humans. We get up at the same time, study, eat the same things and play. I suppose one of our significant differences, besides remaining reclusive, is that we have unusual abilities. The magical energy within us can be harnessed into many different shapes and forms. As well as being utilized for many tasks to make them more manageable. Being part of the vampires, we have chosen to live away from the other beings in our world. This world being Earth—a planet that has two sides to it. One we often call the “Main” world or even “Human” world. The other is where I was born, the “Alter” world. The Alter world is a different realm than the Main one, where many differences can be spotted. Such as the living beings that reside there. Even with our differences from humans, I lay awake with the sun’s beam through my window. Blinking my eyes, I feel a set of damp sheets under my white knee-length nightgown. Its scent drifting about the room. I, Viki, a twelve-year-old vampire, lay awake, finding my bed wet. Sighing to myself, I cannot believe what has happened. I’m a twelve-year-old girl and a vampire, no less! I shouldn’t be wetting my bed! I scratch the scalp below my long ash-colored blonde hair before blinking my azure eyes a few times. Still, a wet bed is below me, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Getting out of bed, I stepped in front of my mirror. The mirror had a floral design on the wooden edges that belonged to an older generation in my family. But here I was, looking at myself—a big wet stain on my nightgown. Brushing my hair with my fingers, I sigh to myself, glaring into the bright blue eyes. Though this is the third wet bed in a row, I know I have to bring my sheets to the wash as soon as I get up. My parents called me out for not letting them know right away on the first day I had the accident. With that in mind, I began the process of striping the white sheets off the bed and taking the pink blanket off my bed. This bed had a valence decorated in a floral pattern—a bed that shouldn’t have been wet. Holding the needed to wash materials, I turned towards the door to my room. Passing by an ornately carved round table with a large novel on top, I marched out of my room through the wooden door. Stepping out, I was greeted by a long hallway with several other rooms. Of course, the bathroom was to the left, but it wasn’t needed now in my current state. I could sense there should be no one down the path. Pillowing through the hallway, I exit into a four-way path of hallways. Pictures lined on the walls, along with short tables with vases filled with flowers. The laundry room which I was seeking was straight across from the hall that my room was in. Through an antique-looking wooden door at the end of the hall led to a room with white walls. Several washing machines and driers were placed in. This was the goal I intended to reach with my sheets—the laundry room. A woman with black hair, a navy-blue collared knee-length dress with a white apron stood looking at me. She was one of our current maids to assist in our daily lives. Not to mention one I could trust with my current predicament. The maid swiftly took hold of the sheets I currently held and put them in the nearby empty washer. “I see the problem still persists, my lady,” the maid spoke with a curtsy. “Unfortunate, but that does seem to be the case,” I sighed. “Thanks for your help, Miranda.” “Of course, you can count on me to help lady Viki!” Miranda replied enthusiastically. However, her look of enthusiasm vanished into a head tilt. “Should I make mentions to the headmistress?” The “headmistress” Miranda was referring to was my mother. Though it could make my life easier, I already made my decision the second I arose from my chambers. “No, I chose to make her aware of the dilemma myself.” “Ah, quite mature, I see,” Miranda smirked. “Well, if you’d require my assistance, do give me a call. Perhaps I can help you change from the current attire?” Looking down showcased the wet-stained knee-length white nightgown with some details around the skirt. It was clear I should have changed out of them. “Nah, I prefer to showcase the evidence,” I twirled my hand in the air. “Alright, well, I wish you the best of luck. Oh, I should tell you she’s in the main hall right now.” “Thanks, Miranda. I shall go reveal the truth to my mother now then. Though, I’m not sure how to get her alone…” “Ah, here, let me assist you with that.” After making her statement, Miranda wrapped me with a pink blanket. “This should hide you from the others from knowing.” I smiled, looking up to her calm crimson eyes, “Thanks!” With a quick wave and an exchange of curtsy’s, I exited the laundry. The main hall was several more corridors and stairs down to reach. This was currently the most enormous estate mansion my family-owned. Even though it wasn’t as big as our primary home, I still found it rather pleasant. This estate served its purposes rather well to my family every year around this time—of October. Once I reached the mansion's main hall, I could spot a woman with a full-length navy-blue dress. This dress had floral embroidery on the collar, a pair of sleeves that streamed below the waist, blonde hair well below her shoulders—my charming mother. My mother was currently directing a few of our maids on how to “decorate” the place. At least, how to decorate it to her vision. The decoration was getting prepared for the month’s event in October—Halloween. Unlike humans having a spooky atmosphere with cobwebs, tombstones, and monsters, we vampires dapper the location with silky white drapes and celebratory flowers. There are other kinds of accessories that go into play. Still, it goes into our celebration of Halloween that vastly differs from mere mortals. Clamoring my way towards the top of the regal rug-covered stairs, my mother looked in my direction. I was glad she did too, as any closer, and I’m sure the maids would be able to smell my accident. “Well, good morning, sweetheart,” My mother exposed her fanged smile. However, she looked at the current attire. “I see you haven’t prepared yourself for the day…and possibly a dilemma?” I looked towards her, then to the side. “Yeah…about that.” My mother turned to look at the maids, “Um, can you wait for us while we talk in private.” With no rebuttal, my mother swiftly jaunted up the stairs, took my hand to the nearby room to the right while the pink sheet drifted along the floor. This white textured door had carvings of a dragon placed over the exterior—fitting for the main hall entrance. Behind the expensive door was a table in the center with floral decorations at the corners. It was not the prettiest room in the estate, but used for conversation with lesser individuals. Closing the door behind her, my mother took a deep breath. “I see you had another accident during the night.” The thought of it brought overflowing mist steam in my eyes, “Yeah…I’m actually worried, mother…” Unable to hold back, I leaped into my mother's arms, escaping the blanket around me. “This is my third accident in a row…But I’m a vampire…a princess no less! This is absolutely unbecoming of me!” Tears began flowing down my eyes. Before I could speak anymore, my mother brushed my hair. “Shh. Shh. It's okay. Everything’s okay! I know the issue brings about a sour taste, but I know it won’t persist forever. There’s an abundance of girls your age who soil themselves at night. This isn’t anything to worry over.” “But…I’m a princess!” I barked back with tears. “That doesn’t matter. Every girl has a set of hardships to overcome—that includes princesses. So, you don’t need to worry over something this meek. But if it troubles you so, lean into me longer. For no matter your status as a princess, queen, or common girl, you will always be my precious little gem! Now let your mother shred those fears of yours.” The instance her grasp ensnared me tight, a pleasant sensation quaked within my tiny frame. I attempted to exchange the same snare. “It’ll all be okay. Mother loves you obsessively. Just soothe into my arms, and everything will be just.” I closed my eyes, grasping my mother tight. Her grasp relocated below my waist, and she held onto my petite bottom. Not realizing the full extent my mother did, I grew closer to her heartbeat. Laying up against her delicate chest, I curled my body—almost fetal. My mother's soft fragrance and hums were the only thing I could sense from my keen observations. Opening my eyes once more, I perceived my location had changed. Mother caressed me to a nearby chair, holding me tight in her arms. Despite me having grown from my infantile stage in life, this was something I’d always cling to. My love for my mother flourished, and it persistently shows. If I ever needed my troubles to melt, my mother would sacrifice to make it so. This care she has done so openly in the past earned her the title of “nurture queen.” Despite wanting to grow up, it always warmed my heart even at this age. Though, we only hug in private locations like this due to our status. “I’m sorry for having you do this for me…” I glanced downwards. “Please, it warms me to hold you,” My mother smiled. “So, think nothing of it as long as you feel better.” “Okay!” I beamed in her direction. “Can I stay like this a little longer, mommy?” “Of course you can.” “Hehe, yay…” Closing my eyes once again, I curled my legs to an even superior angle. With one hand still clasped around my mother, I wrapped my legs with my open hand—thus entering a fetal position. The short hums my mother presented warmed my body. Once I felt fully calmed down, I reopened my eyes once more. Leaning up, I hopped off her lap. “Feeling better, hon?” My mother questioned. “Yup!” I landed with a twirl. “That’s good then. I was beginning to worry if it was affecting you. The last couple of days, it took us by surprise. Even though you seemed fine, I still worried about how you were processing it. Given how the mood vastly changed, I smiled at how informal our private conversation moved. “Yeah, it still bothers me, but not as much now.” “That’s good, just remember, even though you are a princess, accidents happen to the best of us. Though, I won’t deny it…it doesn’t happen to many vampires…” “Wait…what?” I felt stunned. “That doesn’t matter though, you’re our special little princess!” My mother quickly hugged me. “Hehe.” “Well, let us not worry about it for the rest of the day, alright. But if it does happen again, we might need to consider a solution.” “Okay, I agree to that.” It was true. The notion was pointless to ponder about. Despite the idea of what “fixing” the problem could entail, we’ll just have to cross that bridge. “Alright, hon, you should get yourself ready for the day,” My mother scanned my nightgown. I did question the possibility my mother did wonder why I was still wearing the same soiled clothes, but it seemed she didn’t care. The only thought to care about was my well-being. “I can reason with that notion. Probably a good thing too, because I kind of need to go potty now.” The urge didn’t really show itself as I was contently laying in my mother's arms, but a notion of desperation took form. Clasping my legs together, I put my right hand on top of my stained nightgown to hold the best I could. “A good thing indeed. Otherwise, I might be wiping my daughter’s urine off the floor. And I’d have to change my pristine clothes.” “Yeah, I almost took a nap too…” “If you had, I’d most likely be getting Miranda with a mop bucket about now then.” She gave me a devilish smirk showcasing her fully grown fangs. “Haha yeah, well, if you’ll excuse me then.” “Have a good bath, sweetie! I’ll have the maids prepare us breakfast in the meantime, so take your time, okay.” “Okay,” I walked up to the door. “One last thing, mommy,” I started dancing in place. “Yes, Viki?” “Hehe, I love you!” I beamed before scurrying out the door without waiting for a response. I didn’t believe I had it in me to reach the bathroom I would be performing my bath in, so I stopped at the nearest one. Sitting on the porcelain throne, I began to relieve myself. Thinking to myself, I am a twelve-year-old vampire princess, relieved to have made it and not an accident on my mother's lap. Once finished, I flushed the toilet of my waste, closing up the pitstop with a wash of my hands. Now that I could sigh in relief that I didn’t fail to keep the current attire clean a second time, I proceeded towards the area my room was located. The bathroom of my preferred tub was located over in that location. Within the same hall of my room, which door was currently closed, I continued to the end of the hall. Turning the handle led to a bathroom, which walls were covered by a pastel blue, a taque flooring (similar to marble), and small bird creature designs depicting a snazu throughout. Although the bathroom design seemed more of a childish feature, I mainly have fawn memories of it. The bathroom was about half the size of my room. A wall divided the portion with the toilet and bathtub. A double vanity across from the tub made it fun to change which side to use each day. But the critical part was the tub that was built for someone the size of my mother. So, no matter how much I’d grow, I’d always be able to enjoy a pleasantly warm bath in this bathroom. Without a moment's hesitation, I turned the handles for warm water fill the tub. Stripping off the dried wasted clothes, I look in the cabinet under the sink. Once I find the pink bottle, I procure it with a fanged grin. With a naked skip in the air, I opened the bottle above the tub. Pouring a fair bit of the bottle's contents out into the tub as its levels rose up caused a bubble effect to take place. A bubble bath of this nature helped me calm down with the assistance of the aromatherapy scents to be sprayed. The sprays occurred through motion, so once I would get in, a soothing aroma would be gently poured into the atmosphere. It was similar to having a candle, though my parents didn’t trust me with fire, even near an open source of water. Turning the handles once more the other way caused the water to stop pouring from the faucet. Stepping into the pleasantly warm water with a smile, a relaxing scent blew my direction. Soaking my hair under the water as my fingers felt the bubbles, I felt far better than I did before. No maids would come to aid us in cleaning up, given that was not a duty we had given them. As a vampire, we prefer to take things into our own hands. Plus, it would take away from the relaxing atmosphere under the presence of someone else. Or so that’s what my mother always told me when I asked in the past. Finishing up this lengthy soothing soak, I unplug the drain. As the water level slowly sank, I rose up out of the tub. Hoisting a pure white towel made with a soft fabric made for royals, I proceed to dry myself off. Wrapping the towel around myself, I find myself ready for the next step in the daily routine. Following my earlier tracks outside the door, I take a detour into my room. If the day were to present itself like any other, well besides my nightly accident, I should find a set of clothes prepared for me in my room. Pushing open the door, I found as I would have expected—a clean set of clothes picked out from the maids hand-picked by my own style. Even though we do not have maids assisting us through our daily needs such as bathing, they still help straighten things out, like getting our clothes battle-ready. Although, I am the final say in the style they choose. For this current time, I have set the type to be cute. I choose this style, as I admire the kinds of clothes they’ve picked out for it. In the current case, I see laid in front of me a silky dress. This white knee-length dress is slightly different from your average dress. The top part has a collar with a sash tied around the chest with a similar pair of sleeves that my mother had. For the bottom half had frills at the hem. Lastly, a couple of comfy black leggings followed by white undergarments that have a cute little black ribbon. If the clothing were a bit trickier to put together, a maid would stay behind to assist us in putting the equipment on—typically Miranda. However, that doesn’t appear to be so for this case. So, I begin the equipment process by dropping my towel. Once I finished equipping the dress, it drooped an inch below my knees. Admiring the frills at the hem, I find myself excited how today’s outfit turned out. Stepping into the regal floral mirror in my room, I take a good look as I turn and twist my body to view at different angles. Smiling with my fangs, I am delighted at today’s choice of clothing. However, my hair wasn’t in the best of shape, given it was still wet. So, I scoop the towel I used and head back over to the bathroom. Back in the bathroom, I step in front of the mirror to locate a nearby brush and hairdryer. I could call for a maid or even my mother to do this for me, but I felt the need to be a big girl since my recent accident. After I’d finish this procedure, I would have an excellent breakfast to look forward to. Now that I have been prepared, I continued out the bathroom doors down the main hallway I used before. Near the main hall on the ground floor was a corridor with a set of doors leading to my next destination. With our family now up and battle-ready for the day, we could proceed our breakfast operation. Opening up the regal wooden door leads to a set of decorated white-clothed tables with a vase of colorful flowers to the right. Gorgeous glass ornaments hanging effulgent from the ceiling. A large circular table with a white cloth covering is placed at the center. Elegantly crafted chairs resting against the table for guests to enjoy. As well as my mother and a well-dressed vampire-man with dark hair. They noticed my presence and turned my way with a fanged smile. Returning their kind expression, I endured up to my mother to take my seat between her and the male vampire. First looking up to my mother, then I look over to the man who is my kind father giving both of them a warm smile. Now that I had taken my seat, we could proceed to the main dishes for our breakfast. The family I sat next to is the current queen and king of all vampires within our nation. Much like other monarchs that exist within the world, the royal family's blood is passed on. Royal blood runs through the veins of our current king—my father. Our kind never took much the interest of inbreeding to keep the royalty “pure,” so the majesty would always be looking for lovers as they grew up. According to the story, my mother tells me how the two of them got together on a starry night. They had known each other for several years and supported one another but didn’t have romantic feelings at first. “Until that starry night,” my mother would say with a giggle ending the story. Despite not knowing the exact details, I ended up coming about the world due to the two of them which I am grateful for. Perhaps one day I’ll get to know, but I am happy to be their daughter for now. Being their daughter would mean that the royal blood runs through me—much like my liquids at night. That would have me be the royal princess. Unlike other princesses, our kind has been protective of each individual’s decision since ancient times. Thus, the princess in our kingdom wouldn’t be marketed off to another country just to “strengthen the countries ties.” The thought of it disgusts me. Having my decision being respected would mean if I desired a different path than royalty, I can pursue it. However, my parents and other relatives love saying how I’m the spitting image of the very revered Kassandra. Kassandra was one of our very early empresses who saved our kind from being forced into slavery by other beings. Supposedly her famous quote is “love our surroundings, but perish not.” Though no matter how many times I look over at her portrait, I can’t find the similarities. I mean, sure, we have the same hair color and eyes…not to mention I completely agree with that quote. To appreciate everyone for who they are, but to care for our kind first before moving into agreements with the other species was more or less how I perceived it. Given this comparison has had me a little troubled to figure out my path for my own future. “Now that I have my two favorite girls at the table,” my father began to speak. “We can discuss a short bit of these upcoming days. As I’m sure you are aware, Halloween is coming soon, and that will mean I’ll be busy into the late evening.” He looked towards me and gave a bright expression. “Of course, I will always make myself available at our usual time.” By “usual time,” he was referring to the time he instructs me. As a princess and a vampire, I do not go to any kind of institution for schooling. At least the leading vampires have voted against it. “I have plans in the process currently in the works as well,” my mother spoke up. At this point, they continued to explain their business relations with the government board and cabinet members. This had been a process I have come accustomed to given my twelve years of being a princess. Though it always sounded like a lot of work went into each Halloween. Unlike the mortals who would dress up as fowl creatures to greet each doorstep with a demand for sweets, we vampires send our proper respects and thanks to those before us. Such a tradition was put into place closer to a thousand years back. Back in those times, vampires were relegated to the shadows just for how different we were despite the majority of us only trying to mind our own business. That was till a group of vampires banded together and eventually formed their own civilization outside. Thanks to their efforts, we can live in comfort, isolated from the disasters that sprung from others. Hidden from human knowledge, Halloween is only an adopted term from us. From what I have studied about this holiday, humans did stumble on a ceremony in the process. Those humans took that knowledge, ignorant that it was a group of vampires, and spread information to others. The following year, it began as a pagan tradition as some means to celebrate spirits. However, their Christian churches didn’t approve of this belief. They began spreading treats at their doorsteps to the youth to prevent them from participating. The church had a lot of success in this and shut down the pagan ritual. Despite it being shut down, the idea was continuously passed down. Eventually, the great depression hit America, which caused the idea to cause mischief in most youth. Given the problem it was causing, they ultimately gave the kids treats at the doorsteps once again. A tradition they adopted from miscued beliefs long before that belonged to us—Halloween. “With Halloween approaching,” I began to voice myself. “I wanted to experience the traditions human children would perform.” After I voiced my desire, silence filled the room. I understood my wish was like a comet in chances, but it was still one I desired fulfilled. As we vampires have grown to recluse away from other societies, we trade with them. We’ve only grown better at hiding these years, and something inside me just didn’t like that, though. A heavy sigh escaped from my father, “You know very well that we cannot interact with their kind. Especially the history our kind has endured. I’m sure you’re also aware of how terrible they treat themselves! How the woman of their kind have suffered through so many hardships and the discrimination just based on one’s own skin!” I began to pout, “But they have changed their ways long since then. It's only our stubbornness that keeps us from changing. Plus, I thought it could be a start to show the government and our people those changes!” Hmph! I remember hearing you say something similar to that too! We continue to glare at each other till we hear my mother clearing her throat. “W-well, regardless of this matter, your father and I will be unavailable for some time. So, we will have to leave you to the care of our maids once again.” I exhaled a heavy sigh, “Sigh, again. I thought you’d think about a different possibility for me this year.” “I’m sorry, sweetie,” My father stated solemnly. “I know you don’t like being in the care by our maids, but it isn’t like we have many other options.” My mother looked at me with a sour expression, “You know our maids would be just like hiring a sitter anyways. Plus, I thought you were close with Miranda?” “I-I am! I thought I was grown enough to be left alone, though,” I puffed. “B-but…sigh,” my father wrinkled his brow. “Look, we’ll think about this later, alright. We can enjoy our meal then and begin your studies for the day.” “Alright,” I gave in. It wasn’t something I felt pleased with for the idea. Still, my options didn’t seem very existent besides being left with the maids. Although I did feel alright with them here and helping out whenever it just didn’t feel right without my parents being present. With breakfast taken care of, I could now begin my daily studies. As a princess, I was homeschooled—through with the best education to offer. A majority of vampires were often homeschooled, though. Not many public schools existed for us to gather to, as generally there wasn’t enough of our kind to fit that demand. The fertility rate of vampires had been relatively stagnant for many centuries. Still, I suppose it’d make sense for our kind, given we do tend to live longer than the average mortal. The first subject I would tackle today would be mana harnessing. However, it was specialized to my physique. Unlike other vampires who typically graduated harnessing in their elementary days, I was a particular case. The mana inside me was far refined in comparison—thus, I had a more substantial capacity for mana usage. Granted the subject field had sparse research available for proper instructors, it would fall to my father to instruct me. From what I’m aware of, mana is generally genetic. Which would mean my father should also have a higher capacity than the average vampire. However, it sometimes can be spontaneous and unpredictable. So, it's generally genetic to a certain degree of percentage. My father first taught me that I was a unique case when it came to a vampire’s mana. Even though the royal family is lucky in children rich in mana, I was essentially an absurdly large diamond. Not yet refined, but no value could compare. Hence when we had instructors try to teach me at a young age, they would all abandon their position due to a lack of understanding my physique. Thus, due to no other vampire being able to visualize my being, my father decided to be my instructor and made sure to cut enough time for it. The best suitable location for harnessing mana is in a peaceful environment. So, our typical classroom was in the green room located in the back of the mansion. Many colorful flowers flourished alongside the greenest trees the world could witness. The half-dome shape was covered in window paneling to give a fantastic view outside. This room had a spectacular view at night when the moon sparkled through. Taking our seats in comfy outdoor seating arrangements, my father and I would begin the instructions. “Alright, sweetie, before we begin, let us meditate,” My father stated. This was a widespread routine I had been accustomed to. The meditation was to assist in harnessing one’s own state. At least that’s what I was told. Sitting with my legs crossed on top of each other, I put my hands together, closing my eyes. Slowly breathing in through my nose—witnessing many gorgeous scents around me before exhaling out my fanged mouth. A tranquil feeling came to me. “That should be enough for meditation. Now let us proceed with today’s procedure,” My dad stood up. My eyes opened up and followed in suit. “Today, I think you are ready to graduate to the next stage.” “Oh really?” I felt shocked. It was about a couple of years back before my father stated something similar and when our subject field changed. I’m still unsure what the importance of all that I had learned was, but my father tells me I have a pure talent for it. “Yup, as a matter of fact, you’re getting close to surpassing your father,” he said with a pleased expression. “It wasn’t till my late teens for when I got to this stage. So, it has me very pleased to see how much progress you can make this early on. As a father, it has me undoubtedly happy, and as a vampire, I am curious to see where you might go.” “I see…” I said, blushing away. The sudden praise felt very good, but I tried my best to contain it. “What will we be covering now?” “Well, as we have covered the subjects of harnessing your mana, circulation, and the idealization stages, it’s now time for you to learn how to harness it in other means.” Hearing the term had me perk my ears in interest for what it could mean. “So, for today’s first lecture will be about self-defense. But I first wanted to mention that your mother and I are both on the fence about you learning this. As we always want to be there for you, is there really a means to teach you self-defense? That was when I recalled my old instructor and retainer.” The term “retainer” stuck out to me, as I remember the old gentle Frederick. He was a kind man that I came to love, and I called him my uncle. However, he passed on many years back when I was still relatively young. Those tears I had I still remember to this day. “Well, Frederick once told me that even though I may be royalty, would that mean I shouldn’t have a need to learn self-defense? But that would only weaken me to becoming an easier target. If I wanted to be defended at all times, at least the self-dense, I know would be there for me in dire times. It was through this teaching that had your mother, and I change our minds. So, with this teaching in mind, we can at least sleep easy that you can manage by yourself when the time comes.” “Ah, that does sound like uncle Fred!” I smiled with my fangs peaking. “But I’ll do my best that I can!” “That’s my girl! Now for today’s first lecture will be about putting something to sleep…” The lecture and technique went on for about an hour before we stopped for the day. With a pleased smile, my father leads me back to my study room, where I would begin studying other subjects. Though the latter half of our instructions for self-defense, I couldn’t help but think about being able to spend time with mortals once again. I couldn’t help muttering “if only there was some way,” out loud. But he left me within the study, hoping me a good rest the day before sitting in meetings for the day. I’ve once had several tutors come through to make sure I’m on a topic only to find I was advanced from where I should be. Thus, I’d continue to make progress on my own. *** Several more hours of studying go by before I could call it a day, thus closing the book with a clump. Now that I have finished all my studying, I could proceed through the day with my hobbies. The current hobbies in mind were reading and playing with my dolls. I know I was a bit old for playing with my dolls, but the process of imagination and how cute the dolls were constructed always had me returning for more. As for the stories I enjoyed reading, I can’t help but admit I’m a stickler for princess novels. It's kind of embarrassing to admit that I, a princess enjoyed reading about other princesses. Though the kind I read about is more fairy-tale related. Where the princess becomes trapped, and a handsome prince slays a dragon to save them. Such romance I couldn’t help but admire. But I’ll sometimes lie, saying I like to read only about vampire mysteries. Despite my enjoyment, the thoughts about another soiled bed remain in my head. Would I wake up with another wet bed? Was I severely different from a vampire? Was there something wrong with me? I couldn’t help but be somewhat afraid for my future. However, I could only hope there was at least some way I’d be able to bridge past the vampire’s issues of the outside world.

Romy-21 Jared/ Daddy- 30 I could never admit it. That I liked it all. That I liked to be "forced" to do what Jared, no wait, Daddy wanted. It had started after we moved in together. He was 30, I was only 21. We'd met through work. He was a great photographer. I was an aspiring one. I'd been searching for someone I could work for, an informal internship, where I could learn the ins and outs of photography. The first night we'd finished a wedding and I was staying late at his house, learning the basics to editing. He'd offered me a drink. At only 5ft, and someone who rarely drinks, that one drink quickly turned to 3, which left me a giggly mess. He was a gentleman though. He offered me to stay in his guest room, and I happily accepted, not wanting to pay an Uber back to my small apartment that I shared with my 3 roommates. Nothing happened that first night. We just stayed up talking. No work got done. But it was fun. We had clicked. It was a week later when he first told me that he wanted to kiss me. I remember blushing, feeling tingly as I said yes. We kissed. It was intense and amazing. I had never felt a spark like that before. We took our time. We moved slowly. It was 6 months after we officially started dating that he asked me to move in with him, saying I could work full time as his assistant and second photographer. Looking back, I can see the signs that I missed. He'd always call me cute, say I was a little girl, though I guess to his 6 feet, I was little. He'd pick me up, my legs wrapped around his waist, telling me how little I was, patting my bum as he'd carry me. He liked to joke that because he was older, I had to listen to him. Sometimes, I'd joke back, telling him to make me, mouthing off. He'd give me a little spank and tell me that one day he would. The first time, I'd told him I didn't want to go to bed. It was only 10 and a Friday. I just wanted to watch one more episode. "Come on," he said, turning off the tv. He stood up from the couch. "Let's go, it's bedtime." "I'm not tired, I'll be up soon." I reached for the remote but he grabbed it. "Nope. Let's go." "Come on, just one more episode. We have the weekend off." I took the remote from him. "If you turn the tv on, I might have to punish you." I smiled up at him. "Oh ya?" I turned the tv on, not breaking eye contact. He smirked. "Okay, you asked for it." He sat down and grabbed me, pulling me over his lap. I knew instantly what he was planning, laying facedown on his lap. He used his leg to trap my legs, his arm around my back, his hand tickling my side. He began spanking me but it wasn't hard, it was more playful. I squirmed, giggling as I protested. I'd never been spanked before. But I liked it. I could feel myself getting tingly in a place I'd never thought I would. He stopped tickling and spanking me, his hand rubbing my bum. "Have you had enough, little girl?" I giggled. "Is that all you've got?" He laughed. His hand spanking me a bit hard this time, before slipping down between my legs, his hand slipping into my shorts and panties, touching me. "Hmmm, what's this here, huh? Is someone enjoying this?" "No," I said, my face red as I tried not to giggle as he tickled me again. "Are you sure?" His fingers played with me, feeling my wetness. He kept going until I came. He released me, letting me slide down to the floor before standing up. He pulled me up, lifting me up into his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist. He kissed me, then gently pushed my head down into his shoulder. I relaxed in his arms, as he carried me up to our room. We stayed up late after that, having the best sex we'd ever had. I fell asleep in his arms. We quickly fell into our newfound patterns. Me, being mouthy, challenging him, then ending up over his knee. The spankings got harder, but never hard enough to make me cry. We'd end my punishments with the best sex of our lives. It was during one of my spankings when I'd called him daddy, as a joke, sarcastically challenging him and his "weak" spanks. I felt him grow hard instantaneously, feeling him poking into my tummy. He ended the spanking early, not able to contain himself anymore. I learned from that, calling him daddy whenever I thought he was being bossy, or when I wanted to turn him on. It was one afternoon, after a particularly fun spanking and playtime together, when we were cuddling naked on a pile of blankets and pillows on the living room floor, when he told me that he wanted me to start calling him Daddy whenever we were at home. I agreed. He quickly added that if I called him Jared, I'd find myself over his knee. Sometimes, I'd purposely slip up, calling him Jared. It was fun to see his reaction, the sparkle in his eyes, as he'd pull me over his knee. He soon added in a time out, declaring that I was acting like a little girl and I needed extra punishment. He'd take my hand after a spanking, my pants down at my ankles, and lead me to the corner of the room, standing me in place, ordering me not to move. He'd give me anywhere from 5-30 minutes. If I talked or moved, my time would start over. Sometimes, he'd end it early, too eager to take me to bed. One night, while we laid in bed talking, he told me that he wanted me to try something new. "If you don't like it, we never have to do it again. But I'd love for you to try, please," he said. "What is it?" I asked. He got up, going to the closet and pulling out a plastic bag. I sat up in bed, watching as he pulled out a pack of diapers. "You want me to wear diapers?" "It's not a diaper, it's a pull up," he said. "I just- look, I love being your daddy, taking care of you, treating you like a little girl. You don't have to use them, just wear them for a bit, see what you think." I agreed and he slipped the pull up over my feet and up my legs, then on. It were surprisingly comfortable. We laid in bed, watching tv, and I could feel the pull ups padding rubbing against me in just the right way. I fell asleep wearing it. When I woke up the next morning, having to pee, I remembered what I was wearing. Jared, wait no, Daddy was still sleeping beside me. I could wet it, I thought. It would be easier than getting up and I wouldn't have to leave the blankets. Plus, I'd be up in a bit anyways to shower, it's not like I'd be laying in my own pee forever. It was so much hard then I thought. It took me a few tries, but soon, I was able to pee. I started to worry that it wouldn't hold it all as I felt it swell up against me, but I felt all around me, the sheets still dry. I rolled onto my tummy, closing my eyes. It's actually pretty nice, I thought. The warmth of it, it didn't feel wet or sticky or anything, just warm and comfortable. I squirmed a bit, before closing my eyes, telling myself I'd rest for just a bit longer. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, Daddy was waking me up. "Good morning, princess. It's time to wake up. How did you sleep?" "Mmmm, good, daddy. How did you sleep?" I rolled onto my back, stretching. I suddenly remembered my wet pull up. His hand rubbed my tummy before sliding down. He stopped in shock as his hand settled on my swollen pull up. "Did you- did you pee?" He asked in shock. I covered my face. "N-no." "Are you sure?" I nodded, still hiding my face. He rubbed the swollen padding. Slipping his fingers into the pull up, he started touching me. "I see you're wet somewhere else too." He reached over, pulling my hands from my face. "Don't worry, baby. It's okay if you had an accident, that's what daddy got you pull ups for." He leaned down to kiss me, his hand still playing with my princess parts between my legs. He ripped off the sides of my pull up, pulling it out from under me, before climbing on top, slipping inside of me. It was the best sex we'd ever had. We ended it in the shower, where he took his time cleaning me. It started off with me wearing my pull ups only a few times a week. Sometimes I'd wet, but sometimes not. I loved it but I could never admit it to him. I couldn't tell him how excited I'd get when he'd slip his fingers between my legs, checking to see if I'd wet my pull up, rubbing the padding into me. It was a few months later when he introduced me to diapers. He'd shown me online some cute ones, pinks, tye dye ones, ones with little safari animals. I said yes to them, agreeing to try them out, so he'd ordered a few kinds. They showed up, and we sat on the floor, opening the big box together. I was shocked by how big they were, how thick. In the box was a pink pacifier, a big one and a big baby bottle. "What're these for?" I asked, holding them up for him to see. "I thought they'd be cute, if you want to try them." I just set them down, unsure. "Pick out a diaper, baby, daddy will change you," he said. I shook my head. "I don't need diapers, daddy." "No? Come here, let me check your pull up." I shook my head. "It's dry. You don't have to check," I lied, not looking at him. He grabbed my ankle, pulling me to him across the floor. I tried to get away, but he was quickly able to get my leggings down, revealing my soaked swollen pull up. "What's this?" I covered my face. "Nothing." "No? Cause I see a very wet pull up. Did baby lie to daddy?" I didn't say anything. He stood, pulling me up and leading me to the couch. He sat down, pulling me over his lap. "You're going to count the spanks that daddy gives you, understood?" "Yes." "Yes what?" "Yes Daddy." He spanked me, and I counted out each one until he got to 30. "Lay down." He pointed at the floor. I got down, laying on my back. He grabbed the pink diapers, opening them up and pulling one out. He already had a pack of wipes and baby powder on the coffee table, which he grabbed. He opened the pacifier package, holding it to my lips. "Suck." I shook my head, refusing to open my mouth. "Do you want a time out?" He gave me a look, and I slowly opened my mouth, letting him push the pacifier into my mouth. "Suck. Pretend it's daddy that you're sucking on." My face red, I obediently began sucking, feeling ridiculous as I laid there. He ripped the sides of my pull up, and I lifted my bum so he could pull it out. He wiped me down then unfolded the huge, crinkly pink diaper, slipping it under me. I settled on it, the soft padding against my bum. He sprinkled powder onto me, then pulled the diaper up between my legs, taping all 4 tapes into place, the diaper tight around my waist. "Good girl. Come here." He stood up, pulling me to stand. He pulled my leggings up over my thick diaper. "Come here." He pulled me to the couch, sitting down. He sat me on his lap, and we cuddled. "You did so good, baby girl." I was surprised by how much I liked my diaper. The thickness took a bit to get used to. I felt like I could barely walk. But it wasn't until we were in bed, when I had slipped under the covers, taking daddy in my mouth, when I had to pee. I had held it in for so long and I finally let go, flooding my diaper. It quickly soaked it all up, and I felt dry, the warmth against my skin. Daddy finally finished and we cuddled, watching tv. I fell asleep soon after, my warm diaper hugging me. Daddy woke me up the next morning with some morning sex before we showered together. After the shower, he wrapped me in my fluffy towel, then led me to the bed. "Lay down," he said. "I'm going to dress you, okay?" I laid down on my back on our huge bed. He came over with a diaper. "I don't need a diaper, Daddy," I protested. "I'm not a baby." "Well, how about we make a deal. You keep this diaper dry until lunchtime, and daddy will change you back into your big girl panties." "Daddy," I whined, pouting at him. He held the pacifier to my lips. I shook my head. "Ro," he said my name in a warning tone. I opened my mouth, accepting the pacifier. "Good girl." He rolled up my towel, just past my waist, and slipped the diaper under me. He powdered me up, then taped me into it. I sat up on the bed, as he went to the closet, pulling out my pink sundress, with little rainbows all over it. He dressed me, then stood me up, pulling it down over my thick diaper. "You're the cutest, most beautiful girl that I've ever seen." He kissed me on the forehead, patting my bum. "Go downstairs, daddy will be right down." I waddled down to the kitchen, my diaper crinkling with every step. I decided to start breakfast, pulling out the bacon and eggs. He came down, dressed in grey sweats and a blue t shirt. "What're you doing, baby girl?" "I'm cooking breakfast," I tried to say, but the pacifier muffled me. I took it out of my mouth to repeat it. He smiled, guiding my hand with the pacifier back to my mouth. "Good girl. Here, let daddy do it." I quickly found myself in diapers every day that we were both home. Then it became every night. I'd come to love my diapers. But I could never admit it. So I'd "fight" daddy every time he'd go to diaper me. I'd argue and complain. I'd demand to use the potty, only to end up over daddy's knee. We fell into a routine. I'd wake up, wet my diaper and daddy would cuddle me, slipping a bottle into my mouth. He'd change me after breakfast, letting me shower. Sometimes I'd come back to our room, finding a diaper waiting for me. Sometimes it's be a pull up. Some days I got to be "big". Those were the days we'd be working. But we really only worked outside of the house 2-3 days a week. I found myself feeling little a lot. I'd be working, helping Daddy edit pictures or answer emails and be sucking my pacifier as I did it, with my bottle filled up beside me, my diaper wet and swollen between my legs. I felt like me. I knew it was weird, not normal for a 21 year old to be okay with her boyfriend treating her like a baby. But I loved it. Jared knew. But he played the game with me. I know he loved it. He'd get hard while punishing me, when changing me. I quickly found that he loved having me on my knees, taking him in my mouth, with a wet diaper between my legs. I had to go home for a week to visit my family. He wasn't able to come as he had a wedding to shoot, but I flew out. I didn't realize it until then how much I missed my baby stuff. I got annoyed everytime I had to pee, wishing I was diapered. I couldn't tell daddy that though. The first thing we did when I got home was run to our bed. When we were done, he diapered me, and held me in his lap, feeding me a bottle before slipping my pacifier into my mouth. "I got you some surprises," he said, standing up. I sat up, naked except for my diaper. "What is it?" I asked, with my pacifier in my mouth, not caring that it made me sound just like a toddler. He went to the closet, coming back with a big pink bag. He set it down on the bed beside me. I pulled out a pink t shirt, only to realized it was an adult onesie, with snaps on the crotch. I pulled out 5 of the, all different colours, one white with unicorns, another that said 'daddy's girl'. Then there were light blue shortalls, with snaps on the crotch and legs. And finally, 3 sundresses. I loved them all, jumping up to hug daddy. "Thank you daddy!" I said, though it sound more like "fank ou daddy." He kissed my head. "Pick out a onesie." I picked out the 'daddy's girl' one and let him dress me, laying down so he could snap it in place. "I have one more surprise for you," he said, lifting me into his arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist, his hands under my bum, as he carried me out of our room and to the guest room. He set me down outside of the door. "Go ahead." I opened the door, and stepped in, stopping as I saw what he'd done in my week away. Replacing the double bed was a giant pink crib, with bars so tall, they almost reached the ceiling. There was a pink unicorn print blanket and fluffy pillows inside. Beside the crib was a big white rocking chair, with pink cushions on it. Beside that, a small table, with a pink lamp. On the other side of the room was a large changing table, with 3 shelves below it, filled with diapers, whites and baby powder. A big pink chest say on the floor, with a fluffy pink rug beside it. "I made you a nursery," daddy said. "What do you think?" He took my pacifier out of my mouth. I was shocked. "I'm not a baby, Daddy. I don't need a crib." I hugged him, taking my pacifier back and putting it in my mouth. I waddled over to the closed chest, opening it. It was filled with stuffies and toys, everything from stackers, to Barbie's, to unicorns, Polly Pockets and even a pink rattle. I sat down on the rug, my diaper crinkling to look through it, finding a stuffed unicorn that I really liked. "Here, come try your crib." Daddy said. He went over, unlocked one side and sliding it down. "Baby, come here." I started to stand. "No, crawl to daddy, Ro." I obeyed, crawling to him, my diaper crinkling, holding onto the unicorn as I did. He bent down, lifting me up and setting me onto the crib. "Legs in, sweetie." I pulled my legs in and he pulled the side of the crib back up, and locked it into place. He looked at me through the bars. "What do you think?" "It's very nice, daddy, but I don't need a crib. I'm a big girl," I said, keeping my pacifier in my mouth. He smiled at me, reaching in to pay my thick diaper between my legs. "No? Well, maybe, we'll see, okay?" He stroked my hair. That night, he took me up to my new nursery after we had fun in our bed. I was naked and he laid me on the change table, quickly diapering me as I sucked on my pacifier. That was the first time that I noticed the butterfly mobile above my head. He sat me up, my diaper crinkling to dress me in a onesie before carrying me to the rocking chair. He sat down, me in his lap, then leaned me back, taking my pacifier from my mouth and slipping my bottle in between my lips. He rocked in the chair, making up a silly story as I sucked my bottle. I had to pee already and I let go without a second thought. When I was done, he kissed me, then slipped my pacifier back into my mouth. "You're going to sleep here tonight okay, baby. But, there's a baby monitor right here, so if you need daddy, you just call for me and I'll be right here." "Daddy, I'm not a baby. Why can't I sleep with you in our bed?" "I want you to try your crib tonight, princess. It's safer for you in here, I wouldn't want you to fall out of the bed." He carried me over to the crib, the side already down. "Lie down, daddy will tuck you in." I laid down, and he tucked the blanket around me, giving me the stuffed unicorn to sleep with. He leaned down to kiss my head before pulling up the side of the crib. "Good night, baby. I'm so proud of you, you've done so good." I fell asleep quickly. That morning was the first time that I woke up soaked, realizing that I'd wet myself in my sleep. My onesie kept my diaper from sagging and I reached down, rubbing my diaper between my legs. I kept going till I came, moaning with my pacifier in my mouth. I laid back, wriggling in my squishy diaper. Daddy came in then. "Good morning, baby. It sounds like you've been having fun in here." I hid under my blanket, embarrassed at the fact that he'd heard me. He pulled down the side of my crib, lifting me up and carrying me downstairs. I was surprised when I felt him set me down on a tall seat. He stepped back and I quickly realized that I was in a large sized high chair. "Daddy, I'm a big girl," I protested. "Are you? Cause your very wet diaper tells me otherwise," he said, pulling a strap over each of my shoulders. I watched as he buckled the steps together to a large buckle between my legs. He grabbed a large tray, slipping it onto the high chair infront of me. He slipped a bib around my neck. He came back with a plate of cut up fruit, waffles and maple syrup, along with a bottle of milk. "Eat with your fingers, baby." He sat beside me, eating his own food. We talked as we ate, my fingers sticky. I drank from my bottle, finishing it before he came with a warm cloth, wiping my face and hands clean. He held my pacifier to my lips and I accepted before he unbuckled me, setting me on my feet. He patted my bum. "Go play in your nursery while daddy cleans, okay?" I waddled up to my nursery, sitting on the rug and pulling out the toys to see what I had. I was looking at the Polly Pockets when daddy came in. "Come here, little girl, time for a change." He patted the changing table. I waddled over, my soaked diaper forcing my legs apart. He lifted me up and I laid down and sucked my pacifier, watching my mobile above me as daddy changed me. He snapped my onesie back in place, then sat me up. "All right, this morning, you were playing with your princess parts, weren't you, sweetie?" I looked down, nodding and sucked my pacifier. "Okay, you know that's a grown up thing to be doing. It's not for little girls to do on their own. Daddy should've been helping you with that." He reached down on one of the change table shelves, coming up with a pair of pink things. "These are mittens. Daddy is going to lock your hands in them for 24 hours. It's to show you that you need daddy to do things for you. So until you learn, daddy is going to have to use these." "But daddy! No, I don't want them" I sat on my hands. He gave me a look. "Baby, do you want a time out?" "No." "Then give me your hands." "No." "You have until the count of 3. 1.......2....." I held out my hands. "Good girl." He slipped one over my hand, locking it at the wrist, then did the same to the other. The mittens were thick, and I quickly realized that I wouldn't be able to do much with them on. He lifted me off the change table. "You're going to play in here. Daddy has to get some editing done." I stayed in my nursery, with daddy closing the door behind him. I sat on the floor, struggling to get the mittens off. Annoyed, I spat my pacifier out, sitting and pouting on my rug. Daddy came back a bit later. "Hey, baby girl, everything okay in here?" He held a bottle. I refused to answer, crossing my arms over my chest. He chuckled, leaning down to squeeze my wet diaper between my legs. "Lay down, drink this." I obeyed, happy to have a bottle since I hadn't been able to pick up my pacifier with my mittened hands. I held the bottle between my mittens, drinking it all as daddy cleaned up the toys around me. When I was done, I sat back up. "Daddy, please take these off. I promise I won't ever do that again." "Sorry, Ro, but no." "But I can't even pick up my pacifier with these! What if it falls out of my mouth again?!" "Hold on, I can fix that." He went to the closet, opening the door. He came back with a pacifier with straps on it. It was already in my mouth before I realized that he was buckling it around the back of my head. It was bigger than my normal pacifiers, and I could barely talk with it. I tried to protest, but daddy ignored me. "I'll be back soon." Daddy left, leaving me frustrated. I was so turned on though. The helplessness I felt, not even able to talk. We'd never played with gags before and as annoyed as I was to not have my regular pacifier, I was happy to still be able to suck on it, even as it forced my mouth apart more than normal.

Hi. I’m new here. Live near SLC and am a bbw baby girl looking for a Daddy. Does this exist in Utah?

Steven Allen was praying "Dear god, l'm not much of a prayer, in fact l dont even know if l'm doing it right! I hope you hear my prayer. God l am so lonely since you took my Sheila to be with you. I guess what l'm praying for is to meet another woman like Sheila. I have thought about ending my life, but l know thats wrong, my friend Jeremy told me suicide is a permanet fix to a temporary problem! Please god, bless me with a new person to share my life with. I wouldnt care if she comes with a few problems! Just as long as she loves me as much as l will love her! If it's not asking to much please help her be as beautiful as Sheila! Amen! Hopefully god will answer my prayer! He thoght. Will god answer a prayer like that?" Soon Steven fell asleep. In another part of town. Mary Grey was praying. "Dear god. I know l have been praying a lot as of late, since Harry has passed on, l didnt know he was in debt as far as he was. I am now living on the street as l have lost my home, l have no money to even get a cheap hotel room. All l have are the clothes on my back. Dear lord l am destitute! I'm living on the street, l'm cold, I'm hungry, l dont want to steal or have to sell my body, but god l don't want to die of starvation, or freeze to death, l havent slept in two days, you know why. I dont want to get hypothermic. I'm praying for a way off the streets. One that doesn't require me to rob a bank or become a hooker! Please help me dear god! Amen! Steve and Mary both had a dream, they dreamed of each other as an answer to their prayers! Steve was walking he couldnt get this woman out of his mind, he was begining to wonder if he was out of his mind? Mary wondered who is this guy? What is he going to do, give me some money and get something to eat and a cheap place to stay? Then what, l will be back in the same boat in a couple of days. They rounded a corner and Bam! They had ran into somebody. "I'm sorry they both said, my mind is a million miles away the both said!" The laughed when they both said the same thing. They both started walking away. Wait a minute, that's the guy/ woman that l drempt about. They turned and both went to talk. "Ladies before gentlemen!" Said Steve! "Alright then said Mary, l drempt about you last night!" "Your going to think this is weird but I dreamed about you last night?" Said Steve! What were you doing right before you dreamed about me?" Asked Mary? "Praying! Said Steve. You?" "Praying!" Said Mary! "What were you praying for?" Asked Steve. "My husband recently died, his company was in big time debt. It took everything that we owned, our savings, our home to pay off his debts. I've been homeles for the past few days! You?" My wife died about 9 months ago, l'm missing her l'm really lonely, I've been thinking suicide is looking better and better!" "Becoming a hooker is sounding better and better to me, at least l will have something to eat!" Said Mary. "Come with me!" Said Steve. There was a cafe just down the road. Just looking at the menu, the pictures of the foods were making Mary salavate. "Excuse me!" Said Mary as she began to drool. Steve ordered Two steaks Medium well, Loaded Baked Potatos, Salads with Ranch? He said kind of asking Mary. Steve heard her stomach growl! He guessed he had ordered right. "Since you dont have a home, will you move into mine. Don't worry l'm not out to seduce you, all l ask is please dont steal from me. I was dating a girl she raided my wifes jewelery box. All she had to do was ask, l would of given them to her. I had her arrested! I hate being stole from!" " l was praying that someghing would come along so l wouldnt have to sell my body or start to steal. I dont believe in it!" Mary said. Their meals came Mary didn't want to look like she was starving. Even though she was she ate at a normal tempo. She guessed that her stomach had shrunk she felt full and only ate about 1/2 to 3/4 of her meal. She got a doggie bag to go, she didnt have a dog, she was saving the rest for later. They walked to a fairly nice place. Steve took her to his condo. Steve showed her a room. "I guess this is your room!" "Steve before you go l think it's only fair that l tell you, Mary blushed. Steve l still wet my bed." "Not a problem check the bed it has a rubber sheet and in the closet you will find some Adult Briefs!" "How did you know?" Mary asked? "I didn't, my wife Sheila when she got sick l kept her in here, the rubber sheet and Briefs were hers as her illness got worse so did she, she used them. I haven't had the heart to toss anything as yet, guess it was a good thing l hadn't tossed anything. In the dressers, there are panties, bras, pajamas, in the closet there are dresses, l think everything will fit, go ahead and use them, l can't!" Steve smiled!

Jane is working on a experiment that would make people look younger then they really are. While she is working with chemicals and she accidentally drops one on herself. Then it starts to begin and she starts to look younger and younger by the minute.

I don’t post much, but thank you to those that do. I’ve been mentally stuck and am looking for some community insight. Earlier this year I started wearing diapers 24/7 to manage my IBS and stop accidents in my pants. I’ve always had minor issues with IBS all my life but never wore diapers to manage it, however, life changes as you age. I did wear diapers for pleasure, but at 42 the reason for my diaper usage has changed. It’s been about 7 months since I’ve started wearing it has been more mentally reassuring knowing that should I need my diaper, I’m covered. ? While I make jokes, it’s to cover the fact that a part of me wishes that it was just for pleasure, anyway, it is what it is. The reason for the post is the last couple of months, when I need to pee, I’ve been using my diaper as it’s often easier, more convenient, my diaper doesn’t stretch out for sliding it down, I don’t have to run off and find a toilet when I’m out, and I could. Plus I wear the megamax as it’s fit is awesome and is super comfy and contains any kind of mess extremely well. However, for some strange reason I fell like I’m doing something wrong, like I feel some shame when I’ve used my diaper voluntarily as opposed to when it’s not voluntarily. When it’s comes to wetting, I’m not actively training to be diaper dependent, my IBS has done that for me already. Like the other day, in the grocery store, I had to go and some leaked out. I just went about my shopping as I was almost done and left and went home. While I was feeling a little embarrassed, it wasn’t much and would have been worse if I wasn’t protected and that’s why I wear diapers. So, mentally, it wasn’t that big of a deal. I guess my question is; does anyone else who wears for medical need that also has control use their diapers voluntarily? Or do you try to make it to the toilet? Bonus question, am I just overthinking this? Thank you for your input!☺️

Alexa is a up and coming journalist and gets a assignment to interview a husband and wife who take care of adult babies. She is on her way to interview the couple when she has to use the bathroom but there is know bathroom around and she decides to go in her panties and hopes that the couple does not notice.

When an IT engineer at RegressCo gets hold of his upcoming evaluation, he tries to find a way to adjust the standards by which he is assessed… with unintended consequences RegressCo - Fudging the Numbers Jack sighed as he sat down in his cubicle. Frustration was visible on his forehead this morning, wrinkling all the way down to the end of the hyenas muzzle. He’d been dealing with ridiculous queries all day, tickets from everywhere from Research and Development to Payroll. How they managed to break so many pieces of equipment and crash simple pieces of software was beyond him. RegressCo needed to get a better handle on enforcing some best practices, the entire IT department was at full capacity and the tantrums people threw about them were audible from three floors up. This time, it was easy to see the cause. Some new intern in HR hadn’t been given a sippy cup and his laptop keys were now stuck firmly in place from the apple juice that had worked their way between them. Thankfully, it was an easy fix, a little careful application of heat and cotton buds and soon everything was clicking away like new. “Now, let’s give you a test run” the hyena whispered to himself, pressing the on button. Rather than the normal start-up screen, the laptop flickered for a second before showing a clear and organised desktop, spreadsheets and documents neatly placed in specific sections. “What? Did this kid not log out or..” It was then the hyena spotted something that made him stop before hitting the start menu. A document mixed in among others. “Jack Crowley - Yearly Assessment - DRAFT COPY” Great. He’d known that was coming up at some point. Still a few weeks away, but definitely in his near future. He’d been at RegressCo for just under a year, his three month probation had come and gone and he’d been officially inducted into a little clique of workers who were still with it enough to make it to the toilet six months in. This place was a minefield, he’d learned that just by reading the various manuals covered in crayons and big red warnings saying “DON’T DRINK THE MILK”. Once you’d stepped in the wrong place at the wrong time, that was it, your name went on the potty chart and your assessments went from formal and boring to a desperate attempt not to be distracted by the colours on your bosses tie. He hovered over the icon, leaning back in his chair. If he read this, he’d probably be breaking a rule somewhere. Fireable? Maybe, he certainly wouldn’t look good on the next version if he was found out… But no one would know right? He opened up the document, skimming through its various sections. His face scowled, dropped, then contorted. None of the notes had been put into “corporate” speak yet, most were still in their raw forms. “Compared to other staff members, standards of work completion have recently dropped... Sees some work as unnecessary... misses deadlines... incapable of working to the standards expected in the company” This wasn’t good. It was really not good. Not a firing, but definitely a talk down. And company evaluations at RegressCo that involved a talk down had a tendency to result in demotion to “potty by the desk at all times” “This is ridiculous…” he whispered to himself leaning back in his chair. He looked over the spreadsheets in the bottom corner, eyes wandering over their file names. “Potty and Toilet Tracker - Q1” “Employee Character Reference Contact Details” “Timesheets - Break and Lunch Monitoring - Q1” All neat, all clearly labelled. Wouldn’t expect less from a straight laced intern in HR with more time to do busy work than anything useful. “Incapable of working to the standards expected in the company…” he tapped his legs, biting on his bottom lip “What standards are they talking about…?” He clicked on the Potty Tracker. Sure enough, everyone in the company was listed there, each one with a status drop down menu. Each of those were known to employees anyway, but it was clear this was the one area Jack was, at least, in the clear. He looked over the list of his colleagues in IT. His manager was listed under the third rung of the ladder: “PAUL FRY - Bathroom privileges, pull-ups required” A thought popped into Jack's mind. These were all a matter of public record in the company. If he lowered the visible standards of those assessing him… ************************************************************************************************************* Paul Fry grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the colourful kids tables in the kitchen. The cheetah had got used to this, regression for him was - as he liked to put it - “childs play“. Sure it was annoying for a while, but more often than not he woke up one morning back in his double bed sprawled out with a ripped diaper down his ankles. Then it was just shower, bathroom and back to the grind before the next time he got this small. Five years of it tended to give you a sense of it as it was happening and he’d had enough experience to keep himself stocked up with supplies. Potty training was just another system he had to learn in his IT Consultant position, like any other, and now he just went through the motions each… He stopped in his tracks as a warmth spread through his crotch. His eyes shot to his pants, the apple dropping from his hands in shock. His paws shot to his front, feeling the plastic of the pull-up underneath them expanding as his bladder emptied completely. “I… what the?” he pulled at the front of his waistband, checking the damage. Sure enough, the designs had faded, he’d not even felt it coming. This wasn’t normal… “Hey Paul! You ok there?” he looked round and up at his co-worker. Doing his best to shake off his shock he smiled weakly “Heh… yeah just errr…” “Having a bathroom break?” the cheetahs jaw dropped “Oh come on, it was obvious a mile away” “I… I am not!” he clenched his fists and stamped his foot on the floor. Wait… that wasn’t… “Ok geez… wait… you’re...” The cheetah felt strange. Why couldn’t he unclench his fists? Why did he feel so wound up? He tried to focus on breathing, trying to relieve the sudden tightness. His tail had gone straight, his legs were bending… “Oh… Oh no!” His co-worker fanned his nose dramatically “I’ll err… I’ll go get the nurse Paul. Try not to sit down” The cheetah felt tears coming to his eyes as he patted the back of his pants. But… he was potty training... ************************************************************************************************************* Satisfied with a little adjustment to his managers training progress - the drop down box now helpfully stating “Incontinent - Diapers Required” - Jack started skimming through a couple of the other spreadsheets. It couldn’t hurt to make a few additional adjustments here and there to get him through this, it’s not like they’d be permanent. They’d probably just blame simple clerical error and leave it at that. He wasn’t even logged in, so these wouldn’t appear as his edits. His mouse hovered over one particular spreadsheet, his mind finding another puzzle piece clicking into place. “Employee Character Reference Contact Details” A devious idea entered into Jack's mind. He looked through the list of staff members. There was his name, his mother listed as his emergency contact (being single wasn’t out of choice, so they were the best option) but he quickly found what he was looking for just below it... ************************************************************************************************************* “Hey Richie! Need a hand with those boxes?” Richard looked up and pressed the “Open” button on the elevator as the fox ran in next to him, his fennec ears perking up as he heard his friends gracious offer. “Yeah, that would be great! Seriously, I have no idea why the head of HR needs all this stationary. Can’t he just, I dunno, not eat his crayons every week?” The fox laughed “Oh come on, he probably just spills his bottle on everything and needs to replace it” As the elevator doors closed, Richard leaned against the back of the wall, checking his phone for messages. Sure enough, his wife was checking in on him at work, as she always seemed to. “Urgh…Janet” “Hmmm? Trouble in the Forrester household?” Richard shook his head “Nah, just getting the old “Are you sure you’re ok in work?” spiel. She cares a lot but man she can be…” His phone went off again, another message from her had popped through this time with a picture. “Come on kiddo, I know you’re there! You left your lunch at home silly!” The picture made Richard raise an eyebrow. She’d taken a picture of a kids lunchbox, adorned with cartoons and primary colours. He’d never seen it before in his life. “Oh wow, that's your lunchbox?” “NO!” Richard snapped back at the fox, immediately feeling a blush of shame come to his face for responding that way. “Hah, right, of course not.” Richard growled a little under his breath as he started to respond “Where did you get that from?! Great prank Janet, but I’ve got my lunch back in the office in my own tupperware” The elevator stopped at another floor. Richard began apologising as those outside looked disappointed at the pile of boxes taking up all of the space. “Sorry! I’m sure there’ll be another…” He stopped for a second as the door closed. Stifled giggles were coming from all of the staff. The fox burst into laughter as soon as the elevator started up again. “Richie you might want to take your pacifier out before you talk” What? “I don’t have..” he immediately felt his tongue smacking against a rubber teat. His eyes widened, looking down at the offending accessory that had found its way into his muzzle and pulling it free. It bounced off his chest as the clip that was attached to his shirt pocket caught it on the way down. “What the heck…” He felt his phone go off again. Grabbing at it he looked at the message that had just come in from Janet. “Oh you silly bee, that’s not yours! You should know better than to lie to mommy! I bet you couldn’t even do it without having your pacifier in, you always do that just before you tell me a fib!” Richards jaw dropped. Whatever was happening this was not how he’d expected this elevator ride to go, even as it reached its final stop. Whatever, he’d solve it once they’d unpacked everything, Janet acting strange was the least of his worries. “Ah, Richie!” The jackalope had been waiting for his delivery just outside his office “Glad to see you again, loving the new pacifier, Janet get it for you?” “I… errr…” “Just teasing” he took a small craft knife out of his pocket “Let’s just check the first lot…” he opened the tape of the first box the fox handed down to him, pulling open the cardboard sides. “Looks great! Oh, Richie!” He pulled out another box from inside the delivery, this one adorned with babyish designs “This is for you! Janet called me and asked to order this in. I have to say I think a lot of us are very jealous you have such a lovely mommy” he chuckled a little. Richard could barely keep his jaw off the ground “WI-FI BABY MONITOR - KEEP TRACK OF YOUR LITTLE ONE ANYWHERE!” As his phone went off again he shoved the pacifier back in his mouth and ran back into the elevator... ************************************************************************************************************* Jack couldn’t help but giggle to himself as he made the changes. Richie had always been funny to watch around his wife, a quick change to make her his “Mother by Regression” was far more fitting anyway. When they called for his character evaluation it would change the questions - “Does Richard need regular nap times”, “Does Richard prefer cloth or disposable diapers” - certainly lower his expected standards a little… and by extension the company average. He glanced around again. He was on a roll at this point, in for a penny in for a pound on the whole thing. “Timesheets - Break and Lunchtime Monitoring - Q1” Well… one last little edit would do for now… ************************************************************************************************************* Henry sighed as he leant back in his office chair. He had no idea where Jack had got to, the hyena must have been stuck in a side office working on equipment or something. The IT department was on a skeleton crew at the moment, Paul was at lunch and Jack was, well, not particularly useful at the best of times. He leaned forward, adjusting the booster seat under him a little. Being a field mouse came with a mixture of pros and cons in this place. He had all the accessibility items he could ever need for someone his size, but he did wish they weren’t all in primary colours. He glanced at his watch. Paul should’ve been back from lunch by now, and was delaying his own. “Guess I’ll go grab him, probably got stuck chatting to one of those cats down in accounting…” He made his way out of the IT office and down the hall. There was a little bit of commotion going on, a few of the girls were giggling outside the kitchen. He caught the word “accident” as he came up to the doorway. “What’s happening? Did I miss…” “Oh Henry dear is it time for your feeding already?” He looked to his right to see the head of catering, a large and motherly bear, walking towards the entrance, her apron stained from trying to persuade some of the regressed staff members to eat the veggies their caretakers had asked them to provide. “Is Paul there, he’s…” The mouse yipped as he was suddenly lifted off the ground the bear hoisting him on her arms “Now now dear, don’t worry, your bottle is ready and waiting to go in the warmer as always” Henry’s eyes widened as he looked up at his captor, squirming in her arms “Wa..wait! What are you doing?! I don’t need a feeding, I’m not regressed!” The bear gave his tummy a rub with one of her large fingers, her fur sneaking between the buttons of his shirt, untucking it and causing the mouse to squirm around it. “Ssshhh, I know you're not regressed silly, but that’s what’s on your lunchtime chart isn’t it! It’s alright, we’re always happy to oblige, no need to be embarrassed” He went to open his mouth to complain again but before he could, the bear started to rub his tummy again. It was relaxing and calming, far more than he’d like to admit. He felt himself mewl a little as he heard the beeping of the warmer finishing up what he could only assume was about to be his next meal. “Now Henry, don’t worry, Mama Bear is gonna let you finish this up and then you can have your nap ok?” Nap?! He didn’t have naps at lunchtime he… Before Henry could finish that thought the teat of the bottle was shoved unceremoniously into his mouth. He couldn’t help but swallow the warm milk that started to flow into his little maw, it’s taste washing over every part of his mouth. “There we are! See, no problem at all. Your manager was in here a little while ago, the poor kitten had a bit of an accident. Guess something is going round in IT?” Henry wasn’t really focussed on her voice. He just continued to nurse, desperate to get the experience over with so he could… “Oh dear!” Henry's eyes went wide. The warmth of the milk had flowed down into his stomach, but a different heat was now running down his suit pants. “Goodness me, guess someone needed to make a bit of room huh? Not to worry, this bear’s seen much worse. But I don’t think you’ll be able to stay in those pants…” The mouse tried to pop the bottle out of his mouth to get out some sort of explanation, but the paw of the bear was keeping it firmly in place. “Now, where are those diapers…” ************************************************************************************************************* Jack grinned from ear to ear. Adjustments to lunchtime rotas and meals took a little time to get ready, so by the time of his appraisal, he’d be the only one making himself his own lunch there. Henry would have to have bottles for a week or so before they made that correction, but it would be funny watching him try to explain it to a diapered Paul... Satisfied with his adjustments the hyena saved the relevant documents. That was it for the day, no need to go completely overboard and bring too much suspicious behaviour to the attention of HR. They liked to track these things, and going too far could mean IT could get a permanent changing table in the office. He shuddered at the idea… Still, he couldn’t help feeling like he needed to edit his own document just to be sure. It had been pretty harsh after all. He had to be careful and remove something specific. Removing everything would be obvious. Scanning down the list of bullet points he saw one he could very easily get rid of “He’s noted to be a clumsy member of staff. Motor control that of a child at times, recommend sippy cups and bibs at lunchtime as a precaution” That was bull, but he knew that would be the sort of thing he’d find particularly annoying if any of that was acted on. He selected the entire line and deleted it before moving the mouse towards the close button Except it didn’t get there. It span across the screen, slowly moving its way across the taskbar “What the…” It must have crashed, he thought. The next thing to do in this situation was to bring up the task manager and… His fingers clenched into fists, preventing him from even doing that. Panic spread across his face as he felt his legs push him away from the desk and start to move of their own accord, pulling him to the ground in a crawl. “What… what’s happening?!” he shouted out loud. The empty office didn’t respond, but his arm seemingly did. It slapped against his muzzle, feeling like he’d slept on it for days. His jaw opened as well, licking at the end of his fist and drooling round the back of it. Before he could try to regain control, his thumb had firmly lodged itself inside, his body seemingly desperate for the oral fixation. The hyena felt tears come to his eyes as he fell onto his back. The image of Paul coming in to find him like this was too embarrassing to think about. If he could just get himself back to his feet he could… “Hey do you have my laptop ready yet?” ************************************************************************************************************************************************** If you'd like to read more of my work, please visit www.patreon.com/DaddyWuffster I post three 3000 word stories a month there. You'll get two on the $5 tier and 3 on the $10 tier! Plus if you subscribe on the $10 tier you'll get one of them (voted for by Patrons!) as an audiobook!

And Then the World Crinkled By: Snackers Chp. 1 The universe has a sense of humor. Or, at the very least, I’m convinced that whatever you and I understand reality to be… it’s got jokes. My life must be a particularly funny joke. I am not even sure how or why I ended up here. I can reasonably assume it is part of the ‘grand comedy’ and that ‘I’ exist somewhere between the opener and the punchline. Maybe I am the punchline. If I were to advise you about how NOT to become a beacon of cosmic humor, this is what I would do… Step one in my poorly written pamphlet would be “Stop complaining, it really isn’t that bad.” I would also add a subtext of, “It could be MUCH worse.” I did not follow this simple rule before I ended up here. I walked through life making a steady stream of complaints and shoulder shrugs. I could, and still can, eye roll on an Olympic level. In my defense, this is normal behavior for a teen where I am from. Where I exist now, it is apparently not. I want to state up front that the reality I grew up with is not a figment of my imagination. I am not crazy. Everyone thinks I am because I remember something no one else does, but I am absolutely sure of one fact. I AM POTTY TRAINED. I swear I am, and that SHOULD be normal. I potty trained when I was three years old. My aunt ribbed me for years that I was a devil to train, but past the age of four I have never had a problem making it to the bathroom or even considered the bathroom as anything worthy of much thought. It’s kind of the same way I don’t really think much about eating, drinking, breathing or sleeping except when I need to do one of them. So this is why I think something or someone is playing a joke on me. I made one off color remark about hating the bathroom and how it was inconvenient to wait in line to sit down and pee between classes. It is bullshit that I drink water, just to pee it out later. I didn’t really mean anything by it; I was just complaining. In all fairness, I complain about everything, its normal. I complain about boredom. I complain about the weather. I complain about new games not being released yet… I communicate through negativity, it is how I express myself as a teen. It all happened after the break between classes. My math teacher hit his number stride which put half the class to sleep. I dozed off too and either the world collectively decided to play a prank on me, or something beyond my understanding pulled the rug out from under my feet. “Samantha? What do you think you are doing?” asked Ms. Taylor. I was a little stunned because she’d caught me by the wrist and was holding firm. Usually, teachers were very hands off with students. She was supposed to go get an administrator if I were acting up. But I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was just walking. I frowned and checked my clothing to make sure I wasn’t out of school regulation. I had on a plaid skirt, and a hoodie that was probably a little too large. It wasn’t out of regs though. I looked at her hand on my wrist before looking up to her. “Um, I’m going to my locker? Pretty much the same thing I do every day between classes. Is that wrong?” Ms. Taylor sighed and used her other hand to flip my skirt, suddenly flashing my black panties to the hallway. “HEY!” I said quickly pulling my skirt down. Ms. Taylor didn’t seem to care and started walking back down the hallway, surprising me as she suddenly tugged me stumbling behind her in a new direction. My hand remained on my skirt, still a bit shocked. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a student take her diaper off. Students wear diapers for a reason and I’m not about to subject our poor janitorial staff to your foolish acts of rebellion on our school floors.” “Diapers?!?!” I blurted out, not entirely sure I’d heard her correctly. “Why on earth would students wear…?” Right on beat, as if to answer my question before it had even been voiced, Skye walked by us. Skye was indisputably the social queen bee of my school. Well, I say she walked but more realistically she waddled. She was flanked by her gal pal Ami with an i. It must have been a Friday home game at our school. I knew this because both girls were wearing cheerleader uniforms, which you could only do in class if it was a home game. The usual skirt was shorter than I remembered and did nothing to hide their diapers. I just gawked at them not even trying to hide what they were wearing. Skye had on a disposable with pink, yellow and light purple butterflies decorating it, and Ami with an i had something thicker under a pair of yellow plastic pants with three rows of ruffles on her bottom. “Hi Ms. Taylor,” both girls said in unison as they crinkled by. They gave me the side eye as they passed, which was business as usual, but … I just couldn’t stop staring. I even craned my head back like I was a Toucan or something trying to keep an eye on them as they walked by. Ami with an i noticed and did a little waggle of her butt at me causing the ruffles to flap in a flippant way. I made a face which must have resembled the caveman Spongebob meme, completely stupefied. Did I just get something like ‘the finger’ from a diapered butt? “Bye girls,” Ms. Taylor said not even slowing as she tugged me down the hallway. I struggled to form coherent speech as I was led. So many things did not make sense. I was barely a blip on Skye’s radar, I doubt she even knew my name. The chances of her debasing herself by wearing diapers just to pull a prank on me were very slim. As we turned a corner, we passed a few other students and it only served to deepen the creeping sense of dread I had coming over me. Kim from my earlier math class was wearing overalls with a pink heart on the front and a pacifier in her mouth. There was no way the slight bulge around her middle was anything other than a diaper. It was the same for Jason, a guy from my home room. His clothing was almost normal, with the exception of the low hanging jeans and the obvious diaper fringe poking out. “Why is everyone wearing diapers…?” I asked quietly as I was dragged along. From what I could see, EVERY student was in diapers. A few of them stopped and stared at me, one boy even gave a childish ‘ooooooOOOOooooo’ like I was in trouble and the whole school knew it. Ms. Taylor took me past the front office and over to the school nurse. Honestly, I didn’t really know the nurse that well, I think her name was Mrs. Fielder or Felding or something. She was a 40-something woman who was usually nice enough. She looked up as we approached and immediately fixed her gaze on me, quirking an eyebrow. “Little miss rebel here took her diaper off,” Ms. Taylor said. “Hmmm… Samantha Jones. First time she’s done this, I don’t see her in here much,” the nurse said as she turned to the computer at her desk. “No worries, I’ll see to her, let me just check her student file.” Ms. Taylor nodded, finally easing her grip off of my wrist. I was quick to yank it back, rubbing at a slight sore spot. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been dragged around like a naughty toddler. “She has a stock of disposables, Princess Padding specifically. They should be in her locker and I’d imagine in her backpack. I have extras in the back here too. Oh, and her parents authorized spanking, corner time, mouth soaping and enemas if she gets out of line,” the nurse said as she pushed herself up from her desk. “WHAT?!?!?!” I exclaimed. The nurse had just said some things, and I knew what these things were, but they did not make any sense in referencing me. She might as well have said that there are no cats in America and the streets are paved with cheese. The nurse was already getting something from her storage room and Ms. Taylor was gesturing for me to get up on an exam table. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “No, HELL NO. No. No. No. NO. NO. NO! I’m out, whatever you’re up to, whatever is going on here, I want no part of it,” I said as I bolted for the door. Ms. Taylor was fast, but when the words ‘spanking’ and ‘enema’ were mentioned in conjunction with my name, I WAS FASTER. My butt was on the line, literally. The door burst open and I was careening through the hallway like a pinball. I hit a trash can, knocked over some poor teen toddler boy, caused a teacher to drop an armful of papers. I tried to sputter an apology in passing but I didn’t stop moving. I crashed out the front entrance of the school and ran into the parking lot. I made a panicked dive behind a car to check if I was being followed. I half expected the school resource officer to come rushing out after me with a stun gun in one hand, diaper in the other. School hadn’t let out yet, so the parking lot was still mostly full of cars and empty of people. I waited two minutes and when no one seemed to be coming I tried my best to stay low and sneak from car to car until I was out of the parking lot and through the path that led to the suburbs just off school grounds. I was lucky enough to live close to the school. It was about a mile and a half, but I could cover that distance in 25 mins at a walk. I could do it in half the time running in a panic, which was exactly what I was doing. I managed to put some distance between me and the epicenter of insanity. I only slowed my pace as I got about a block from my house. The world seemed normal-ish… Houses looked the same. Birds in the trees, blue skies, cars on the road. Although looking twice, a lot of the cars driving by had really big safety seats in back. There were also a lot more Mini-vans then what seemed normal. I brushed that oddness from my head and hopped the fence to my backyard, rushing for my old treehouse. It was my tiny, rickety, fortress of solitude in this world. I rushed up the ladder and hunkered down. I don’t know how long I was there, but there was a vague sense of time passing as I sat there, knees hugged to my chest. I couldn’t stop muttering ‘diapers’ ‘cheerleader butt’ and ‘evil teachers and nurses’ over and over again. The irony that I’d picked my childhood safe space to escape too was not completely lost on me. I’m not sure how much time passed, but at some point I heard movement outside as someone started to climb up the leader to my little fort. I readied my legs. If a teacher, nurse, zombie or trickster god intended to put a diaper on me they were going to get a sketchers size 9 to the face. What came up instead took me completely by surprise. It was my neighbor Daniel, only it wasn’t. Daniel was a bookish and shy guy who liked to play video games and paint little miniatures. We were fellow nerds, and usually walked to school together. We’d been best friends forever. The difference between the Daniel I was used to, and the Daniel poking their head up was that this Daniel was a girl. The face was still the same, with light brown eyes and a pair of glasses that were a little too big, but his dirty blonde mop of hair was now well past his shoulders and held to one side with a cute flower hairclip. “Umm… Daniel?” Hearing the name seemed to almost be a slap in the face. She frowned as she started to climb the rest of the way into the treehouse. “It’s Dani. Why would you call me that?” she asked. “You’re a… girl?” Dani rolled her eyes. “Well, yah? I mean, I have been since I was like 7.” As she came into the treehouse, I got a good look at what she was wearing. She had on a cute wide neck sweater and a pair of short shorts. My eyes widened as I saw that her shorts bulged over a diaper with the fringe poking out around her mid-drift. “Not you too…” I sighed. Everything was so confusing… sooo wrong. “You are being hella rude right now. What’s wrong with you?” Dani asked as she sat down on her knees. She put her hands on her hips like she was a pouting parent talking to her errant child. It was a very odd look for her, one because she was wearing a diaper and looked pretty juvenile with the hair clip; and two because I actually did feel a little chastised for some reason. “I uh… Somethings wrong,” I said as I leaned away from her, shrinking before her pout that was actually way cuter than it had any right to be. “I’ll say, do you know what people are saying at school?” I shook my head no. “You took your diaper off and had to go to the office. Are you even wearing one right now?” Dani asked as she reached for my skirt. My hands quickly shot to my skirt to hold it down. The motion caused Dani to raise her eyebrow at me. “I’ll take that as a no… Sam, what’s going on? What happened to you today?” “What happened to me? What happened to you!? Why are you in diapers? Why are you a girl?!” Dani’s frown deepened and she sighed. I can’t stress how un-Daniel like this girl was. Where was the shy and timid guy that followed me around like a puppy? This girl had confidence and seemed very sure of who and what she was. “All right, I’ll play along. What happened to me is I came straight home out of concern for my best friend who I am pretty sure is in some trouble at school. I am in diapers because that’s normal, and I am a girl because that’s what I am.” My shoulders slumped a little. It couldn’t be that simple. I mean, sure Daniel was a little effeminate, and … she looked really good as a girl, but… How did this all change in a day? “Sam, what’s really wrong? You look like you’re about to cry. What on earth happened today?” “I don’t really know. Everyone is wearing diapers. Ms. Taylor tried to drag me to the nurse to put me in one too. You’re a girl when just yesterday you were a guy. None of this makes sense.” Dani considered what I’d said and leaned over to hug me. She crinkled as she moved and I was definitely not used to contact like this from Daniel, but when her arms came around me I immediately hugged back. “I think you’re really stressed, but lets work through this. Why does none of this make sense? Why don’t you want to wear diapers?” I shook my head. “Why WOULD I wear diapers?” “Because you’re not old enough to be potty trained,” Dani stated matter of factly. I blinked and eased myself out of the hug. “I am potty trained.” Dani looked very skeptical. “I AM!” “Suuuuure, let’s just ignore that diaper pail in your room that your mom is always getting on you to empty. I had to wear a clothespin on my nose when I came over yesterday,” Dani teased as she made a show of holding her nose. “WHAT?! Ewww, I’ve never, I mean, like, I’ve not worn a diaper since I was a baby.” Dani rolled her eyes again. “Would you stop doing that? I’m serious. I don’t need diapers. I’m potty trained. EVERYONE at school should be potty trained.” “Sam… no one our age is potty trained. Certainly not me, and certainly not you. Do you know how many times I’ve changed you after school? How many times you’ve changed me? Hell, how many times we’ve been changed side by side by our parents?” There was no way that was true. I had zero memories of it. This was a nightmare. A very real and very weird nightmare. I tried to add up 2 and 2 but kept getting something very different from 4. Dani saw me tearing up and was quick to put her hand on my shoulder. “Okay, lets assume for the sake of argument that you ARE potty trained. What’s wrong with diapers? Do you hate them?” I blinked, almost surprised by the question. “I… I just don’t want to wear them. Diapers are for babies. Until today I hadn’t even thought about diapers in years… I don’t want them and I don’t need them,” I said firmly. No sooner had I said it, then I felt a warmth beginning to spread between my legs. There was a soft pitter patter noise and both Dani and I looked down at the same time to see a growing wet pool quickly forming under me. Dani sighed. “Riiiiiight.”

(Sorry if this is a bit gross to some lol). But how do you feel about messing? Is it enjoyable? I personally like the feeling of messing more than wetting, it's just a more comfy feel to me. I love the squishy, warm, and messy feel it has. It literally feels like having a banana in the back of your diaper xD. The only problem is the clean

I have been lurking for a long time and commenting for a little while. After reading so many great stories here and all around the internet, I wanted to try and write my own story. And whaddya know, why not a christmas story since it tis the season after all? This story is named after the christmas song of the same name, but really does not have anything to do with the song. (it's just my favorite christmas song). I was gonna call it something like Daria's Christmas in Diapers, but then I worried people might think it was fanfiction for the Daria cartoon... which it's not. The one thing it does have in common with the cartoon is that it takes place in 1997, which is when the cartoon first aired. And that is where the similarities end. So I guess that's it for intros. Please enjoy the story. Chapter 1 Daria was excited for the holidays, mainly Christmas, but also new years. It was almost Christmas. She was gonna go visit her Grammy and Papa for a week or so. School had let out early and the last day they barely even had to do anything! Some of it was even fun Christmas activities too, no homework either. There wouldn’t be any school until after the new year, but they were staying at Grammy and Papa’s for a little longer than that (her daddy said they might stay longer, but hadn’t said how long exactly). A week might not seem like very long to an adult, but to a nine year old like Daria it seemed like a long time. Her mind was racing with all sorts of things she could do while they were there. Her cousins would be there and would have their new toys and games. (Mary had a collection of Barbies that made Daria jealous) She hadn't seen her cousins in a few years, or so she remembered. “Are you all packed in there?” called her dad from downstairs. “Yes, daddy!” she yelled back a little annoyed. But she wasn’t packed just yet, she just didn’t want her daddy to come up and complain. He would probably say she wasn’t doing it right, but she had all her favorite clothes packed in her suitcase. She had to argue and beg a little to get him to let her pack her own things. A small victory won, and she was glad because he never packed the clothes she liked. All she needed now was to pack some toys and things to make the car ride less boring. It was several hours of driving to get out to her grandparent’s house, but for her it might as well be an eternity. She never liked long car rides, they always made her super bored. Her dad was yelling up the stairs again, something about getting ready. “And hurry up! When you’re done put your stuff in the car and come to the kitchen and feed David.” Daria didn't want to feed David, he always made a mess (and one time he threw all the food in her hair and it took forever to get it out). More importantly it was distracting her from her important task. She had a small pink Barbie backpack which she took with her everywhere. For the car ride it would hold all her toys to take along. She couldn't take her whole collection (that would be too big) but she packed two Barbies and several accessories. She wanted to show them to her cousins. She also packed a big coloring book, colored pencils, and a few sheets of glittery stickers. Most importantly she packed her Gameboy. She only had like games four games for it, but it was her favorite toy even though girls didn't usually play videogames. She currently had Micro Machines on loan from a friend. It was a really hard racing game but her friend said they beat it already so Daria had to beat it too or her friend would never stop teasing her about it. Once all her things were packed, she wasted a little time brushing her hair. She had long blonde hair which fell straight over her shoulders and all down her back. She had pretty brown eyes and a cheery face, but she always thought her hair was the most pretty part about her. She loved how long it was and how elegant. It made her look more grown up even though she was actually shorter than all her friends. When she was all packed and brushed, she took her backpack with her and went downstairs. The suitcase was too heavy so her father would have to get it for her. "Hay!" Yelled her dad when she was downstairs. "Go put your stuff in the car and then come right back here." Daria went outside and it was cold. There was some snow on the ground, but not much. The clouds were gray and looked like they might snow again, but she didn't have time to think about that. She rushed out to the car sitting in the driveway and put her backpack in the back seat. Then she ran back inside. Her dad was waiting for her when she came in and immediately handed off the task of getting David fed. David was two years old and a few months. He could eat by himself sometimes but he took too long and often made a mess. So for the next half a hour, Daria had to feed her little brother. He did end up making a mess, which was annoying because she had to clean it up. She put him down on the floor in the play room and let him play with toys while she wiped up all the spilled food from the high chair. Then she changed his diaper since he wasn't potty trained yet. Even if they would have been trying to get him to use the potty that day, he would be put in a diaper for the long drive to Grammy and Papa's. (he couldn't hold it for long and her dad didn't like making a whole bunch of stops.) Daria complained about having to change David's diaper since he pooped in it and it was totally gross. Her dad, who had conveniently avoided needing to deal with it, thought it was good. "I wish you had taken him to the potty, but it's a good thing he pooped now." He said. "Better then him pooping in the car and we have to find a place to stop and change him." Daria hated it when she had to change her brother’s poopy diapers. He never seemed to mind, and always ended up sitting on it and squishing it into an even bigger mess. She figured maybe it was just because boys always like making messes and girls don’t. Boys were so gross. She couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to sit in a gross stinky diaper at all, not to mention for any length of time. But David would just keep playing after pooping sometimes for over an hour if no one happened to check him or smell him. Daria wished she had a sister because a little sister wouldn't do that. Daria had to sit and watch David for a little while while her dad packed and got ready. She played with a little barbie doll (not the one she packed). She liked to make believe about being grown up and having a job at an important business. David played with blocks and kept asking her questions. “What are you doing?” “Playing with my Barbie.” Daria answered. “My bobby?” “No, my Barbie.” Daria said the words slowly. “Why you play wiff dat?” “I like it.” “Why?” “Because.” “Why because?” “Because I don’t know. Stop asking me questions.” Daria tried to concentrate and remember the little story she was trying to play out with her doll. David was quiet for a minute, then “why?” “Arg!” Daria got annoyed, but it only made David giggle. For like the hundredth time that week Daria wished she had a little sister. She could play barbies with a little sister, but David was a boy so she could not. He just kept playing with blocks and toy trucks and picking his nose. It seemed to be taking forever for them to be ready. David was getting on her nerves and kept asking questions. She tried to keep him busy so he wouldn’t fuss, but that just meant she couldn’t play on her own. Her dad had said something about the oil in the car, and he kept coming in and out of the front door looking more and more angry. Finally after more than another hour which felt like an eternity, her father came in and said everything was ready. He had already packed his and David’s stuff in the car, and Daria had packed her own stuff, so they just needed to grab coats and hats and gloves before they could leave. Daria used the bathroom. Their dad gave David a quick diaper change and then they left the house.

I like diapers better than pull-ups. I especially love how someone else has to fasten the tapes up. It makes feel like such a baby and I love it.☺️?♥️ I also love it when they're done changing you and they say "does baby feel better now that we changed his diaper?!"