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Little Bee: Chapter 1 Note: this story takes place in the world of “Classified: A New Life” as written by Brutal_Ink. I hope that I can do justice to their wonderfully creative work and compelling world setting. Credit as well to @destinedfordiaperstories on Tumblr for expanding the world with their phenomenal story “Sammy’s Little Problem” Classification Day. If there were two words that struck more dread into the heart of an 18 year old, nobody had spoken them yet. Classification Day, also known as the last day of Senior Year, was the day that every high school senior would find out what their future would look like. The graduating class received their test results today, and would be classified as Caregivers, Littles, or Neutrals based on a wide variety of testing of genetic markers, enzymes in the blood, and various other measurements, profiling, and characteristics, both biological and mental. The CGL Gene that was discovered after the evolutionary shift in humanity that had become known as the Great Mutation usually began to manifest after the age of 18, so the school year was scheduled to end shortly before graduating students would begin to see the changes their genetics would make to their bodies and minds, which is why test results were given out towards the end of the last day of school. Caregivers developed powerful instincts to care for those in need, as well as higher physical strength to aid them in this task. Caregivers often, but not always, adopted Littles and made sure they were happy and safe. Those that did not adopt always pursued careers that cared for and protected others. Littles were the opposite, they found themselves regressing to an earlier stage of childhood and losing varying degrees of muscle mass, motor skills, emotional regulatory abilities, and toileting skills as most found themselves effectively incontinent and irrevocably requiring diapers at all times. Level 1 Littles regressed the most, and were essentially infants. Level 2 Littles retained the vast majority of their motor skills and other faculties, their largest sectors of regression being a complete loss of potty training and significant reduction of their ability to keep their emotions under control. Tantrums were common among Level 2 Littles, and they all needed diapers as well. Level 3 Littles regressed the least, retaining much of their emotional control as well as their potty training in many cases. While some still needed diapers, many level 3 Littles needed only Pull Ups for the occasional accident, as well as nighttime, with some even being able to wear normal underwear. Neutrals saw no changes, and were essentially the same as Humans before the Great Mutation, accounting for slightly more than half of the total population. Jamie Holbrook stood in the school’s Common area, feeling a bit of trepidation. She was quite attractive, many would say cute. Petite, slender, and a Ginger, Jamie stood only 5 feet, 2 inches (157 cm) tall and weighed around 108 pounds (49 kg) if she were soaking wet and had a brick in her pocket. Jamie’s alabaster skin was dotted with freckles, and she wore her red hair in twin braids. Behind her oval-rimmed glasses, her green eyes were focused on the pristine white envelope she held. She was about to see what the future held when a piercing shriek resonated through the Commons. Apparently, Chelsea Taylor, known as the Queen of Mean, had received her results. Chelsea was one of those kids that had everything handed to them, and didn’t know what honest work even was. Chelsea’s family was wealthy, and she herself was stunningly beautiful. Tall and blonde, she knew how gorgeous she was, which was probably the root of her long list of character defects. She was an entitled, spoiled brat that thought she was better than everyone else and frequently asked if they knew who she was or who her father was and had tormented Jamie’s small circle of friends from as early as First Grade. Like Jamie, Chelsea came from a long line of Neutrals, so the results of her being a Neutral as well were all but guaranteed. Furious, she stomped up to the lab technicians that had been charged with distributing the test results. “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS? There is NO WAY this is right! Do you not even know how to run a blood test?” she demanded to a woman wearing a lab coat, her black hair in a tight bun. “I’m sorry, Miss…” “Taylor! CHELSEA TAYLOR! Do you know who I am?” This kind of scene was all too common on Classification Day. When someone couldn’t accept what their test results were, the responses were usually grief or extreme anger. One could teach a college level course on the Five Stages of Grief simply by observing students on Classification Day. Clearly, Chelsea was still in the first stage: Denial. The lab tech had seen this exact scene play out time and time again, a scene Jamie was watching. “No, Miss Taylor, I don’t know who you are. What seems to be the problem?” the tech asked, knowing perfectly well what the problem was. Right on cue, Chelsea moves into the second stage: Anger. “It’s these bullshit results! Level 1 Little? With all the Neutrals in my family? How could you get something so simple this wrong?” she shouted. Blinded by her anger, the Queen of Mean had no idea she had just spilled the most delicious tea that this class of Seniors had ever heard as she continued her tirade. Chelsea was one of those unpopular popular girls that was firmly entrenched in the top 5% of the social hierarchy, with the other 95% hating her due to her entitled attitude and Godzilla-sized superiority complex. Jamie noted that Chelsea had moved into the third stage: Bargaining. She was making good progress. If she had applied herself this much to her studies, the academic world would be losing quite the scholar with her soon transitioning into a Level 1 Little. “There…there has to be some mistake, right? This isn’t supposed to happen, maybe….maybe you could run the tests again?” The lab technician sighed heavily. This part was never easy. “Miss Taylor, I understand that these results are upsetting, it’s only natural. However, I can assure you that, as difficult as this is to hear, they are accurate. Our testing is exhaustive, the results triple-checked for accuracy. However….” the tech writes down a number on a sticky note and gives it to the fallen princess. “If you call this number you can request further review. For now, I suggest you report to the Nurse’s office, as you will need to be properly diapered before you leave here, you will begin to see changes very soon, so you had best be prepared. Good day.” Jamie couldn't believe what she had just witnessed. Where was this lab tech all her life to smack Chelsea down when she was….well, being Chelsea? The now-deposed Queen of Mean lowered her head for probably the first time in her life and shuffled by Jamie and a few other onlookers, having moved on to the fourth stage: Depression. All of them wore expressions of sympathy and pity. Chelsea was a bitch, sure, but nobody deserved this. Her life was essentially over, she would spend the rest of her days as a gurgling infant. The only upside being that she would more than likely no longer remember what she had lost as she endlessly emptied jars of baby food and filled her diapers. She glared at Jamie and hissed “I suppose you think that’s funny?” Before Jamie could respond with something even remotely decent, that any normal human with a shred of compassion or empathy would say, her best friend in the world, Leon, showed that he had woken up today and chosen violence. Leon Black was as nice a guy as you’d ever meet. A loyal and protective friend with long blonde hair and blue eyes, he was always trying to get Jamie to laugh. However, he had a tongue that could cut like a surgeon’s scalpel, and he wielded it with similar precision. He wasn’t one of the popular kids, which is why he and Jamie were friends. That said, nobody messed with him for fear of getting flayed to the bone by his lightning wit. By Sophomore year, he had turned so many of his classmates who had tested him into laughingstocks, the kids that liked to pick on others had decided it was best to just leave him alone. Leon was a wordsmith, and he did not hesitate to serve a plate of gourmet roast to people that clearly had it coming. The boy had simply never met a bear he didn’t want to poke with a sharp stick. Luckily, Leon could also fight, so his fists could cash the checks his mouth wrote. “Come on now, Chelsea, it’s not that bad! I mean, you’ve had people waiting on you hand and foot your whole life, what’s even gonna change,” Leon paused to take a sip of his soda, “besides your diapers, that is?” he said, the brazen teenager clearly getting payback for all these years of Chelsea making their lives tough. Chelsea couldn’t believe it, that this smartass…..NOBODY….would dare speak to HER like that. She opened her mouth to respond, but thought twice and instead launched a slap at Leon’s face. Unfortunately for Chelsea, Leon’s reflexes were almost as quick as his wit, and he swayed back out of range, the Queen of Mean’s attack completely missing him. “Hey! We don’t hit!” Leon shouted in the same tone a parent would use to admonish an unruly child. “Don’t worry Chelsea, no doubt Gucci makes some really cute onesies and frilly diaper covers. You’ll be just as fashionable as ever, I’m sure!” Rather than continue her fruitless battle against an unconquerable foe, Chelsea concedes defeat, but not before making one last attempt to save some of her soon-to-be nonexistent dignity, once her days became focused on bottles, burping, baths, and blowouts. “If someone like ME is Level 1,” she spat, “Then there is no way that a smart-mouthed, evolutionary dead end like you could possibly be anything else but Level 1 as well.” She then turned on her heel and stormed off towards the Nurse’s Office, where further humiliation in the form of a thick, fluffy diaper awaited her. “Aight, cool, see you at daycare!” Leon called after the departing Chelsea, who paused for a second, then continued on, having clearly entered into the final stage of grief: Acceptance. Jamie, who had been holding her laughter, immediately started in on Leon. She began playfully swatting at her razor-tongued best friend as she laughingly scolded him as she so often found herself doing. “You asshole….you unbelievable asshole,” she said, her voice a loud whisper mixed with laughter. “Chelsea’s as awful as they come, but not even she deserved that! What if YOU end up Level 1?” After parrying the last of Jamie’s assault, Leon grins and laughs before speaking. “Bitch please, I could be classed a Level -100, and revert to a sperm cell they have to inject back into my old man’s nutsack, and that would have still been worth it. If I’m a Level 1, I would meet my fate proudly, for I have at long last slain the Queen of Mean, and now I am awaited in Valhalla. I shall ride eternal, shiny and chrome.” Leon says while posing dramatically with his easy, warm laugh, referencing the film Mad Max: Fury Road. “WITNESS ME!” This is why Jamie loved Leon’s rogueish charm. He treated her as the little sister he never had, even though they were the same age. He always knew how to make her laugh. “You…are SUCH a prick.” Jamie retorted, letting some of her own laughter free of the pit she was forced to banish it to. “Don’t you know Little Abuse is illegal? Forget prison, you’re going to HELL, and I’m going with you for saying this, but that was awesome, Leon.” She couldn’t explain why, but she felt nervous today. At the start of the day, she wasn’t worried about her results. She came from a line of Neutrals even longer than Chelsea, but with what happened to her, a small seed of fear had crept into her heart. “You got your results?” she asked her friend. “Right here,” Leon said, holding up his white envelope. Leon’s family had a pretty good variety of Littles, Neutrals, and Caregivers, so there was a very real chance that he would end up in daycare with Chelsea. For all his cavalier attitude and jovial nature, Jamie knew her friend better than anyone. He was terrified, his joking and boasting a cover. Leon was no fool, he knew what was at stake here. He took a deep breath, and tore the envelope open. With shaking hands, he unfolded the sheet of paper. Leon read the document, his eyebrows raised, then furrowed. Jamie respected Leon’s privacy enough to refrain from trying to peek at the sheet he was reading, but the confusion he felt was unmistakable. “Dude….what the….what the hell?” he asked rhetorically. “Leon, what does it say, man? I know it doesn’t take that long to read one word and maybe a number,” Jamie said. In response, Leon flipped the paper around so Jamie could read it. Written plainly on the sheet was Leon’s Classification: BLACK, LEON JAMES: CAREGIVER. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Jamie said, surprised but not that much. “I don’t get it,” Leon said, more confused than anything else. “I’m a soulless monster, not a Caregiver.” Jamie rolled her eyes and sighed, her frustration with her clueless friend peaking. “Dude, have you just not been paying attention for like, your ENTIRE life? Looking back, you’ve had Caregiver signs the whole time I’ve known you.” Jamie said. Leon’s confusion has not yet been pierced. “That’s crazy, what do you mean?” “Well, think about it, you’ve been looking out for me for as long as I’ve known you. When we were kids, and your mom would take us to the pool, who kept on me to keep applying sunscreen so my little Ginger ass wouldn’t get cooked? It was you, Leon. That time in 3rd grade when I forgot my lunch, you shared yours with me. When I stayed over at your house, and that big storm knocked out the power, and I was freaking out because I’m scared of the dark, who was there for me? You, stupid. When I broke my arm Freshman year, you carried my books. Who picks me up every morning for school because I don’t have a driver’s license? You.” “That’s because you’re my best friend, Jamie. You know I love you and I got your back, right?” Leon retorted. “It’s more than that man, you take care of EVERYONE. Yes, you’re an asshole with a smart mouth that I am REALLY surprised hasn’t gotten you killed at this point, but that’s just a front. I KNOW you, we can’t hide from each other. When it REALLY counts, when it REALLY matters, you come through 10 times out of 10. You’re a freakin’ rock, dude,” Jamie explains. Leon nods as he recalls all the moments Jamie reminded him of and realizes that she is right. “Yeah…you’re right, you’re SO right. I’ve always just wanted to help, I guess now I know why.” “Duh.” is all Jamie says. She hands her envelope to Leon. “Here, open that and tell me I’m a Neutral.” Leon takes the envelope and chuckles, “Yeah, right,” he says while opening Jamie’s envelope. After opening the sheet of paper containing the biggest non-spoiler in the history of Classification Day, Leon’s eyes widen for just a moment, then he gets a devilish grin on his face. “You want your results? Come get ‘em!” he says as he takes off down the hallway, away from the Commons. What Jamie doesn’t see are the tears in Leon’s eyes as she takes off after him, shouting “HEY! NO FAIR!” Leon leads Jamie to an empty part of the school hallways, not far from where their former lockers now stand empty, and comes to a stop. Jamie catches up, grinning, and punches him on the arm. “Dick,” she says with a laugh. She takes a moment to catch her breath, and notices that Leon isn’t laughing, he ALWAYS laughs his fool head off when teasing her like this. The seed of fear in Jamie’s heart has now taken root. “Hey man, what’s your problem, what’s….Leon…what’s going on?” she asks, worried. Jamie has known Leon long enough to where she knows when he is and is not messing with her, and the rogueish trickster’s demeanor is completely serious. He takes Jamie’s hand into his and looks into her green eyes. “Jamie, I brought you here because I didn’t want you to find out in the Commons and act up like Chelsea. You’re a Little,” he says, his heart breaking for the cute redheaded girl that has been his best friend from the time they met. They had never even considered dating, because they were too much like brother and sister and didn’t want to make it weird. “I’m sorry.” “What? That’s stupid, I’m gonna get you for screwing with me like this, and I’m ESPECIALLY gonna fuck you up for making me run, and…” Leon cuts Jamie off by simply shoving the piece of paper with her Classification into her hands so she can see for herself. There it was, in plain black and white, unmistakable and final: HOLBROOK, JAMIE LYNN: LEVEL 2/ LEVEL 3 HYBRID LITTLE What little color Jamie naturally possesses in her face vanishes, her features as pale as moonlight. She wasn’t going to shout and curse like Chelsea, but it still didn’t seem real. Her family had been “Oops, All Neutrals” for so long she had begun to question if she even HAD a CGL Gene. With all the subtlety of a haymaker to the face, Jamie now knows that she does, and she knows her CGL Gene’s plans for her future. As the inevitable tears begin to fall, Leon wraps his arms around the petite redhead. Standing at an even 6 feet tall, 10 inches taller than Jamie, he engulfs her in his arms and holds her head close to his chest. At this moment, Leon realizes that he truly is a Caregiver. His heart is torn to shreds for his friend, as he tries to remember lessons and protocol that he only half paid attention to in class. “It’s ok, Jamie, it’s ok, I’m here.” Leon didn’t know much about this whole Hybrid business, but what he DID know was that every Little was sent home in either a diaper or a Pull Up. Accidents were quite common, especially with the anxiety and heightened emotions the Classification of Little tended to cause. Leon knew that the Nurse’s Office was their next destination, before Jamie had an accident herself. Jamie had begun to panic, her breathing becoming shallow and ragged as tears continued to stream down her face. Her voice is meek and timid as she looks up to her friend that could continue to take his first steps into adulthood, while she would never get the chance. Instead, Jamie would be returning to the days of having her diaper changed and early bedtimes. “Leon…what am I gonna do? My dad…he….he HATES L-Littles. He’s a meanie, always…saying such awful things, and…and, there are no Caregivers in my f-f-family to…to take care of m-me. I don’t wanna wear a diaper….” Jamie says between her sobs, her last statement close to whining. Leon can’t explain it, but he KNOWS what to do. His instincts guide him, and he tightens his embrace on Jamie and softly reassures her while stroking the back of her head. “Shhhhhh…..it’s okay, I’ve got you, sweetie. Just listen to my heartbeat, ok? Maybe this Hybrid stuff means you won’t need diapers or something. There’s some Level 3 in your Classification too, you know? We can ask the School Nurse when we see her. Let’s catch our breath, and go there now, think you can do that for me?” he asks, his voice a gentle caress. It becomes clear to Leon from Jamie’s recent use of “no fair” and “meanie” that she is already showing signs of the early stages of her transition, and what she asks him next galvanizes his assessment. “Why?” she asks him timidly. “You know why, Jamie,” he responds. “She’s gonna want to DIAPER me, I don’t need it, I’m not a baby,” she says indignantly. “I know, but they won’t let you leave without protection. I know you don’t need it, but we have to see the nurse. Let’s see if we can get by with a Pull Up, ok?” Leon says to try and placate his friend. “No. I don’t want to. I don’t…” she begins before Leon cuts her off. “Jamie,” he says firmly, “this isn’t something you can refuse. Look, if you fight and try to delay, you’ll only be proving that you DO need to be in a diaper. However, if you play along and don’t fuss, I’ll bet you the Nurse will think a Pull Up is all you’ll need. Come on, honey, work with me here and let’s split the difference, ok?” Jamie hated this so much. She hated how scared and alone she felt, she hated that she had to impose on Leon like this, and most of all, she hated that he was right. She sniffled one last time as she somehow managed to bring her tears under control, and nodded in agreement. “You….you won’t tell anyone what I’m wearing, will you?” Jamie asks sadly. Taking Jamie by the hand and gently leading the stunned, unsteady girl towards the Nurse’s Office, Leon shakes his head. “Come on now, you have to know that I’d never do that to you. We’ve kept each other’s secrets for years, why would I stop now?” “It’s not gonna be a secret for long…” Jamie says, feeling a pout coming on. Leon nods. “Well, when you're right, you're right I suppose. We can deal with that later. For now, it IS still a secret from everyone except you, me, and pretty soon the nurse, so let’s take advantage of the distraction Chelsea so generously provided to make a clean getaway.” Jamie nods as the two friends approach the Nurse’s Office. Mercifully, it is nearly deserted, as all the other Littles have reported in and gone home. Jamie realizes that Leon’s little prank of running off with her Classification results wasn’t just to lure her away so she could hear the news privately. He did it to give the crowd of new Littles needing diapered time to thin out at the Nurse’s Office, so that Jamie could face this trial free of prying eyes and have just a few precious extra moments to prepare herself. Such a shame, she thought, that he wouldn’t be eligible to adopt a Little for several years. He was taking to the role wonderfully, even at this early stage. Still holding Jamie by the hand, who by now has assumed the timid demeanor of a child in trouble, Leon opens the door and gently guides her in. The school nurse, seated at her desk and tapping away at her computer, no doubt updating the student medical files with their new Classifications, looks up at the newcomers. “Well, I thought all the new Littles had already all been seen,” she says in a friendly manner as she gets up and approaches Leon and Jamie. “Don’t worry, we’ll get this over with as soon as possible. Can I please see your Classifications so I know what to get you?” Leon goes first, showing his Classification papers. “Uh, I’m just here to help. You know, support my best friend through a tough time?” he says. The nurse smiles warmly at the kindhearted (but acid-tongued) young man just beginning his journey. “I can already see that you’re going to be a wonderful Caregiver, Mr. Black. If you choose to adopt a Little when you’re able, it’s the most wonderful thing. It isn’t always easy, but it is very rewarding,” she says while Leon nods and subtly steps back while nudging Jamie forward. Figuring out that she’ll need to diaper Jamie, based on the crestfallen teenager’s silence and very noticeable desire to hide, she feels a great swell of pity for the cute redheaded girl. The nurse loved caring for Littles, but seeing them on Classification Day, when they had just had their entire lives upended and their futures rewritten, stolen, some would say, was the absolute worst part of the job. It killed Caregivers like herself to see these kids at this moment, when they needed a hug the most but were still too proud or angry to accept it. “Thank you, Mr. Black, I’ll take it from here. If you could wait outside and close the door, I’ll have your friend ready to go in no time at all. Isn’t that right, Ms…..” Jamie stood silently before realizing that was her cue to speak. “Oh...um…H-Holbrook. J-Jamie Holbrook” she says as she raises her arm to hand over her Classification paperwork. Jamie breaks down in tears and confesses “I’m a Little….” The Nurse’s Caregiver skills and instincts are so finely tuned she has Jamie wrapped in a hug before she can finish her statement, hoping to head off a major breakdown. Jamie does not resist, instead returning the Nurse’s gesture. “Hey, hey, it’s ok, sweetheart, it’s ok. I know everything seems so hard right now, and you may not believe me, but it does get better. It really does, I promise you.” The Nurse takes a look at the shaking, sobbing teenager’s paperwork while still holding on to her. She raises an eyebrow at the unusual Classification results. “A Hybrid? I’m sure that’s very confusing, but it’s not unheard of. Now, let’s get you all set, I imagine you’d like to get home and get some rest, hmm? It’s been a pretty big day after all, but it’s almost over. All the buses will have left by the time we’re done here, so do you have a way to get home safely?” the Nurse asks as she disengages the embrace and takes a step back to size up Jamie. She measures the new Little visually to see what size and style of diaper is right for her. Managing to bring her sobbing under control, Jamie answers the Nurse’s question. “Uh…yeah. M-my friend, Leon, he’s who I came in with. He…he picks me up for school and takes me home. He’s…he’s really good to me. I uh, I don’t have a driver’s license.” The Nurse steps over to a cabinet and opens it. Predictably, it is filled with various kinds of diapers in various sizes. She continues the conversation as she starts extracting various supplies. “Well, that’s for the best. All Littles have their driver’s licenses rescinded when they register as Littles, so that’s one less thing for you to worry about. Okay sweetheart, I need you to get your shoes and pants off, then hop up here so we can get this done” she says, patting the examination table and holding a plain white diaper that Jamie did not doubt would fit her perfectly. “FUCK! This is it!” Jamie thinks to herself as her fight or flight response chooses flight. She backs away from the table, stammering. “W-w-w-wait…just….just a minute…..” she squeaks out. They always did this, every one, every time. As soon as that diaper comes into play, the desperation kicks in. The Nurse sighs, her heart aching for this scared young girl. Still, she didn’t have time for this. “Jamie, honey, I know that this is really upsetting, but I also know that you know that this is going to happen, one way or another. Think of your friend, Leon. Do you really want to have an accident in his car while he’s taking you home, after he’s been so good to you and helped you get through today?” Jamie, threatened with the diaper, jumps at the Pull Up. “I know…it’s just….I’m not ready. I know everyone says that, but….can…can I have a Pull Up instead?” Jamie asks. “Jamie, your Classification is as a Level 2 and 3 Hybrid. We don’t know which aspects are going to be at what levels. It’s too early to say what kind of protection you’ll need, if any. I just want to play it safe, and start at the top. If it’s more than you need, you can step down to something lighter, and there won’t be any messes to clean up. Work with me here, sweetie. These are actually really soft and comfortable once you get used to them. I have to get SOMETHING on your bottom before you can go” the Nurse reasons, trying to lower Jamie’s anxiety before she suffers an embarrassing accident. “I know….I know, you’re right. It’s…just…can’t we go in the opposite direction? Start at the bottom with what goes on my bottom, and I can go up if I need it? I’ll clean up any messes, honest,” she pleads. The Nurse finds what Jamie says next absolutely soul crushing. “Please…please let me pretend I’m still a big girl for a little while longer…” The Nurse’s Caregiver instincts take over, seeing a way for Jamie to salvage at least some dignity from the situation while still getting the adequate protection the redheaded Little requires. “Ok Jamie, we’ll do things your way,” she says, seeing Jamie’s expression brighten just a little bit by the Nurse letting her have her way. “Here’s what I’m going to do: I’m going to give you a Pull Up, and I want you to put it on. While you’re doing that, I’m going to put a little starter kit together for you. I’ll give you a few diapers, some Pull Ups, wipes, and powder. This will give you a better idea of what you’ll need when you go to the Little supply store. You can wear what you want, but promise me that if those Pull Ups aren’t enough, you’ll change into a diaper. Tonight, when you go to bed, I want you to strongly consider a diaper. Most Littles need more protection during the night, so please just work with me here, ok honey?” Jamie nods eagerly, ready to comply if it will keep her out of diapers for even a few more hours. She hops up on the examination table, and begins to untie her shoes. As she kicks off her sneakers, the Nurse wordlessly glides by and places an unfolded Pull Up on the table, remaining close in the event her aid is required. Jamie stands, and unbuttons her pants before sliding them down her legs, leaving her in just her t-shirt, socks, and panties. Jamie picks up the clean white Pull Up and examines it, but can’t quite figure out which side goes in the back. She looks to the Nurse, her expression asking for help. “It’s like this, this mark here on the waistband goes in the back, and the longer parts of the stretchy sides are also meant to go in the back, see?” She says before continuing her lesson on basic Pull Up features. “The seams on the side are tear-away, so it’s easy to take off once it gets wet.” She runs her hands up through the leg holes, and stretches the absorbent underpants out while kneeling down. “Now, take off your panties, and step in, please” Still preferring this to an outright diapering, Jamie slips her underwear down her legs and steps into the Pull Up. The Nurse slides it up her legs, and pulls it up tight against Jamie’s petite frame. She then shows the Ginger Little how to run her fingers along the leak guards to make sure those are sitting properly. Jamie is mortified, but complies nonetheless, knowing what the alternative is. “There we are, all snug and protected, as all Littles should be,” the Nurse says with a smile as Jamie bashfully examines her new underwear and moves to get accustomed to the feel. “Feels like…like a really big pad,” Jamie says, wincing. “Still, it’s not so bad. You were right, it does feel really soft.” “See? I told you it would be ok.” the Nurse says as Jamie pulls her jeans back on over the Pull Up and buttons her pants. She then picks her shoes up and finds a chair, and quickly slips them back on before tying the laces. As she is busy with her shoes, the Nurse comes over with a box. “4 Pull Ups and 4 diapers in your size, powder, and wipes. You will need to get to a Little supply store and get some diapers either tomorrow or the next day. I know this seems like a lot, but it can run out really fast if your potty control slips too far, and the Pull Ups aren’t enough. So once you have a general idea of what you need, get to the store, ok honey?” the Nurse tells a furiously blushing Jamie as she hands the box over. As Jamie turns to finally leave, the Nurse has one last thing for the new Little: a red lollipop. “Here, take this as a reward for not fussing too much, I promise it will make you feel better. You can even have it right now,” guessing from Jamie’s shy behavior that she will be the kind of Little that likes to be given permission. Jamie takes the lollipop and thanks the Nurse for her help. She’s still embarrassed to have been essentially diapered by the gentle Caregiver, but knows that in the back of her mind, in the places she rarely has the bravery to go, she’s right. She unwraps her reward and begins to suck on the sweet red candy, and in spite of herself, must admit that it is both very tasty and is already beginning to calm her frayed nerves as she moves to exit the office and rejoin Leon. What she does not know is that the candy is actually laced with a mild anti-anxiety medication meant to calm new Littles on this, the first day of their new lives, and make them better able to handle the difficult conversations and harsh truths that are to come.

Hi ya it’s been a long time since I been in a rp but I thought I try to get back into it, I been in a few different roles like a bratty teenager girl, forced in diapers , accident and mommy encourage etc, plus had a baby factory idea which was fun. Willing to do a rp with an experience mommy or one that loves to rp. Preferably female I had a Mummy that really encourage me to stay with females than males sorry and it’s been my comfortable place. Also I do has dislexia and try’s best to get the right spelling . Look forward to bonce idea back thx lots ! X

Chapter One “New place, new me,” I said while opening the door of my new apartment. I had seen the two bedroom apartment online and inspected it a few weeks ago before placing my bid. I Fistbumped the air when I got the call that I got it and immediately started packing. Not that I had much, how much stuff does a bachelor have anyway? I got a few books, some pots and pans, and a plastic plant. most of my stuff consisted of clothing, which I think I have more of than the regular guy. I loved a good fitting sweater and special dress shoes, especially with a fitting belt. I started hauling boxes from the van I rented and moved them in. Putting them down at their designated area. I will unpack them tomorrow. It has been a long drive, and the thoughts of a new city exited me. I mean, I still loved my home town, but to be somewhere where I can’t bump into someone I know sounds relaxing to me, A place I can truly be me. The next few days I was busy with making the place my own, painting a little bit. putting together a closet for my dress shoes and just dressing it up. I hung the curtains up, blackout curtains, so I can sleep in as long as I please. After all that was done I took a long and hot shower. I trimmed my beard to a nice three day no shave look before stepping in. When everything was hot and wet I washed my shoulder length brown hair with shampoo and conditioner and shaved the other parts of my body. Not that it was much, but the bits here and there irked me a bit. So it had to go. After thirty minutes I stepped out of the shower and looked at myself in the full length mirror. At 5’2 I was a bit on the short side, almost the shortest of my whole hometown. Sure, once all my friends grew taller and I stayed behind it bothered me a little, but they never made me feel I was lesser because of it. It was the opposite of it. I was, and I quote, ‘Their short king.’ Sure they teased me from time to time, but don’t all friends do that? I made fun of Eric when he was trying to grow a beard. Or Manuel for going bald so soon. Ok, they may have overreacted a little towards me thanks to my height, throwing an arm around my head and knuckleheading me. They never gave each other knuckleheads. On the other hand they did hit each other hard. “Maybe I am overthinking this,” I said to myself whilst drying off. Because of my height I got in pretty good shape, not abs in shape, but nicely toned. And I learned how to dress well. That seemed to do well with ladies, getting in shape and dressing well is the best investment I had ever done. I threw the towel on the edge of the bathtub and walked naked to my room. I jumped on my bed and rolled on my back. “Total freedom,” I said, watching the sealing. I could watch dramatically out of the window, just like in the movies and see the city skyline. except mine was just a view from the first floor, nothing to write home about. I stared at the ceiling for a couple more minutes and decided to put on boxers. I walked out of my bedroom and into the other. Now, what to do with this one. It could be my hobby room, or maybe make it in a walk in closet over time. Once I have too many shoes. Or, I could, Now that I am in a city where no one knows me... “Nah,” I shook my head. “I still don’t have that much experience in that,” I said, closing the door. “Besides, I would be the guy with that kinda room.” I walked back to my bedroom and put on a red shirt and black sweatpants. I ordered a pizza and sat down on the couch. While eating the slices of pizza I scrolled through the multiple jobs this area had to offer. I had been a freelancer for IT for two years now and liked it, and the money was a big plus. I am pretty good at figuring out multiple problems at once and troubleshooting. I liked problem solving best I guess. “Maybe that’s what I must do with the second bedroom, since I will be working from home all the time,” I said, munching down the last slice. Although I already had the desk and workstation standing in the living room. I could just move it into the second, but in the living room I got more thinking space. I stood up and disposed of the box and grabbed water from the fridge. I looked at the living room and its arrangement. Besides the workstation, the tv, and couch, it’s pretty empty. I could put an aquarium there, at the spot where the workstation is. That would require fish, and that would require keeping them alive. “Plastic fish?” I thought, looking at my plastic plant. I took a sip from my water and sat back on the couch. “Problems for later,” I said. I put the tv on and picked out a movie. A few days later I landed my first gig here and started working. I decided to leave my desk in the living room, as I felt I could work better there. It wasn’t a big job, just something to get started and pay the first couple of bills with it. Not that I was tight on money, just nice to have that security. Everything finally fell into a routine after a couple of weeks of moving chaos and figuring this city out. Walking around I found some restaurants that delivered, it wasn't that hard, it’s the city! Almost everyone delivers here. It was almost the complete opposite of my hometown. Sure we had a whataburger next to the highway, and a local pizza place, and only the pizza place would deliver. Still that would make it so half the town delivered. I found a little Thai place and tried it out on the spot. I really, no, really, like Thai food. Like almost all of it, the only thing I don’t like is bananas. The texture and flavor is enough to make me puke, and it did, a couple of times. But speaking of Thai food, I could use some right now. I cracked my knuckles and closed some windows on my computer. “I will leave that for tomorrow,” I said. I stood up and grabbed my overcoat. I closed the door behind me and started walking. Another big plus for the city, everything is within walking distance. Or I could take the subway. It was a lot of freedom for a small town boy like me. Okay, I had a driver's license and I had a car, still do. I just don’t like to drive. Never had, I had to drive to get somewhere. Want to meet up with your friends? Couldn’t ask mom, she was working. My big sister, Nicolette, Nic, for short, didn’t want to, as she was busy studying for college. Her dream job was to become a surgeon, and I didn’t want to be the blame if it didn’t succeed. Not that she would, I tried to help her in any way I could. Our relationship always felt special. Being just the two of us, born fourteen months apart. We were close with each other. I could talk about my feelings and frustrations, as she did with hers. Sure a couple of times she reminded me that she is the big sibling and I the little one, In both age and length. That was just that, a little teasing. Overall we had each other's backs and I could always count on her. I walked into the little Thai place and placed my order, Stir fried chicken noodles, extra spicy. I didn’t wait long before the bowl was in front of me and I thanked the lady that brought it. probably the owner's daughter that worked in the evenings, if I had to guess. I eat the noodles slowly, feeling the pepper flavor searing around in my mouth and throat. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea to ask for extra spicy at a place I wasn’t really familiar with. I slowly worked my way through the bowl and sat it down with a satisfied burp. I ordered a beer to wash it down and more important to cool everything a little. I looked out the window, letting the sip of beer slowly swirl around in my mouth. A question popped back into my mind, what to do with the spare bedroom. I wasn’t going to make it into a office, nor do I have hobbies that require a whole room. Well except for that one, but that wasn’t really a hobby. It was more a, what do I call it? Lifestyle choice thing? But one you confine to the bedroom. But now I had an extra room, So I could do it there, keeping my bedroom nice and tidy. I pondered on it some more while taking a stroll back to my apartment. Back home I didn’t have the space for it, most of it was just shoved into the back of the closet, hoping no one found out. not even Nic knew about it. I only used some of it when mom and Nic weren't home, and to the level the girl I brought home was comfortable with, which wasn’t really exciting. I had to do with what I had, the scene wasn’t that big back home. Now I have a whole room for it, and I could even lock it so visitors don’t accidentally walk in. If I have any visitors in my apartment, even fewer in that room. Maybe I should first figure out what the scene was like in the city. Where would be the meet ups, the places to be, the people to see for this kinda thing. I unlocked the front door and stepped into my apartment, I hung my overcoat on the hook next to it and walked to the spare bedroom. I opened the door and stood in the doorway. Perhaps it is a good idea, I mean, why not? It is my place. And this thing of mine is not that out of the ordinary. I closed the door and grabbed a bottle of water and sat behind my work desk again. I grabbed the laptop from the top drawer and opened it and it started up. Always, and I mean always, keep your work stuff separate from your home stuff. That is one big rule I always stuck to. I didn’t have any problems in the past and I sure don’t want them now. I logged in with my username on the fetish website I always used and changed some settings. I changed my location and narrowed it to five miles from the fifty I used for my hometown. There should be plenty of people in the area, I could always change it to ten or twenty if I wanted to. Another chat window popped up, I clicked it. “Hey man, what's up? Already settled in?” Eric asked. “Of course! I even found a place for that plastic plant Maurice gave me,” I answered. “Good to hear man, explored the city already?” “A little, already found a Thai place that’s even too spicy for me, how is it over there?” “Nah, I don’t believe that, too spicy? For you?” “Life has been in shambles ever since you left man, we are not the same over here!” Eric said in two messages. “Huh? Really? Interesting since you live on the other side of the planet for a year or two,” I replied. Eric had immigrated to Austria to be with his now wife. “I know man, something about the butterfly effect,” he joked further. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” I asked him. “Woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep, so I opened my laptop and saw that you were online. So I thought, Let's go bother that guy.” “You shouldn’t have,” I replied back. “Yeah, but I did.” “Anyway, how is life over there? besides the in shambles part.” “You know, ups and downs. I think I am finally fluent in Austrian,” Eric replied. “I think you mean German.” “Yah, that one, but then the Austrian kind.” “They are different?” “You think they are the same right? I thought so too, and they are, except for some words and the intonations and pronunciations, basically a whole other language, well to me.” “Damn man, well congrats on mastering another language! How is Alina?” “Thanks! Alina is doing well, just got the promotion she worked really hard for, so she is enjoying a week away with her friends to celebrate.” “Good to hear,” I replied. “Anyway, I won’t bother you anymore. You go to bed and I will hit the shower,” Eric said. “Okay, good morning to you Eric,” I said. “And good night to you,” Eric said. I closed the chat window and opened my browser again. “Okay, so where was I?” I checked my preferences on the website, Am I still into bdsm? Yes I am. I am even going to convert my second bedroom to some sort of bdsm dungeon. I already have some whips, paddles, and a mouth gag. I am looking around to find something like a leather straight jacket, up till now, no success. When it comes to bdsm I am what you would call a switch. I liked to be both dominant and submissive. I like to humiliate a person and to be humiliated. I like to spank a person and to be spanked. To gag and to be gagged, as Hamlet once said. I clicked a few extra boxes and clicked on save. I closed my laptop and took Eric’s advice and went to bed. I will look tomorrow for potential dungeon partners. Chapter Two I woke up the next morning and got out of bed. I brewed a pot of coffee and sat down at my desk in only my underwear. I opened my laptop and logged into the website I visited last night. I already had several messages. Most of it came from scammers who wanted me to visit their websites. Others promoted their onlyfans or personal websites. I quickly deleted them so only a handful of genuine messages remained. Only one of them opened with more than just a ‘hey,’ I opened the message. ‘Hey, I saw that you are new in the area, let’s talk and get to know each other, my name is Melis,’ the message said. “Hey, yes, I just moved here. Sounds good to me, my name is Patrick,” I replied to her. To the other messages I just replied back with a ‘Hey,’ I skimmed through the website a little while I sipped my coffee. There just were way more options here, maybe a little bit too much. All those profiles and pages were a little bit overwhelming in the early morning. I will look through it when I am more awake. I closed everything off and hit the shower. After the shower I sat down behind the desk to do some work. I usually did most of my work in the morning or early afternoon. Any later and I was worthless when it came to my IT tasks. I spent the late afternoon with a walk. Not today, when I was done with my work I grabbed my laptop and logged in. Curiosity got the better of me and I wanted to see if Melis had sent a reply yet. And she did. “Hi Patrick, welcome to the city. You got a nice list there!” She replied. If you opted in you could share your list of interests to everyone. Handy for when you try to meet new people. Or you could keep it short with just the general term for what you’re into. “Thanks, anything that stands out for you?” I replied back. She was still online. “Just like the overall list. Bondage, caging, spanking ;)” Melis replied. “How old are you Patrick?” “32, how about you?” I replied. A few clicks later and I could see her profile. “Ah, I am 35 myself,” she replied. I went through her list. Most of the things were the same, spanking, humiliation, caging, etc. Some other things didn’t ring a bell for me. “So we are close in age,” I replied back., wondering where it was going. I went through her introduction. And there it was, Melis was a dom for hire. “I knew there was something about her,” I said out loud, hanging back into my chair. I waited for her reply. Melis hadn’t made an offer yet to meet or introduce her services to me. Not that I was so naive that she would do her dom work for free. She would probably make her offer later, when I was already invested in her. “Apparently so,” Melis replied. “What brings you to the city?” “Work,” I replied. “And this subculture, more options in the city than in a small town.” “Very true, so I take it you already went through my list?” She asked. “I did, is this the part where you make your offer? Seeing that you’re a dom for hire,” I asked bluntly. “Normally I do, but since you’re new in the city, and new to the scene where there are more than 4 people, I would like to invite you to a party,” Melis replied. I was a little bit dumbfounded to be invited to a bdsm party already. We just started talking, and the offer came quicker than I expected, well, it wasn’t really an offer. Not in the traditional sense. “Is that the part where you’re making your real offer? Maybe a special discount? ;p” “No, that's the part where I drug you and take you home with me :D” She replied. Okay, at least she does have my sense of humor. Maybe this could be something for me. It would introduce me to the scene here and see what it is like. “When is this party?” I asked her. “In a couple of weeks,” she replied. “So we can get to know each other here first.” Over the next few weeks Melis and I got to know each other a little better. Exchanging numbers, e-mails. And or likes and dislikes. We shared our number one sub and dom thing to do. Her number one thing to do as a dom is restraining people. As a sub it was being blindfolded and not knowing what to expect. My number one thing as a dom was spanking. Maybe it is a little boring, but to me, spanking someone's butt bare red, is one of the best things in the world. Number one thing as a subs is being forced to do something I don’t want to or like, the desperation and humiliation that comes with it just completely does it for me. Thanks to our video chats I know what she looks like, and she knows what I look like. She was eastern looking. Dark brown hair with hazel eyes, her hair had a slight twirl in it. Since height doesn’t really translate in video, I told her my height. She didn’t react at all, she just kinda shrugged and said “Ok.” It was a different story when she told me her height a few seconds later. I acted a little less casual. She was a whole foot bigger than me, even more. She told me that she was 6’3 without heels. My mouth was agape and I just stuttered “How?” “Does the height difference deter you?” She asked. “No no, I just don’t know any women that tall,” I replied. “The sub side of me is aroused,” I said without shame. “I really? So you don’t mind if I just picked you up? Held you so you can’t run away from me?” She said playfully. “Are you trying to turn me on?” “Is it working?” “Oh it's working alright, You will see for yourself tonight.” “Getting ahead are we?” she said. “Maybe a little, no harm in trying,” I said. “Just get both your heads to the same place,” she chuckled. “You still know where and how right?” “Yes, yes, no worries. I know how to get there and I know what to wear. It’s not my first rodeo, so I'm not in need of a babysitter.” “First time in a stadium, not a ranch. So maybe you do,” she said. “Okay, I am going to go now, see you tonight. If you need anything, just text me.” “I-” Before I could react she had disconnected. I closed my laptop and took a shower, I made sure to shave everywhere where necessary. I arrived on time at the bar Melis had said, wearing a revealing leather suit under my overcoat. Looking inside I saw everyone was dressed normally, and I wondered if I had the right place. I waited outside and checked if I had the right address, I checked it again and thrice. This was the place Melis told me to meet up, where the bdsm munch was. I looked inside the bar again and spotted her this time. She wasn’t easy to miss. I went inside and walked towards her. She was wearing red lipstick, a red blouse, and blank slacks. To finish her look she wore red pumps. “Hey Melis,” I said a few feet away. Luckily the bar wasn’t too crowded. Usually I could only see shoulders on a friday night. Maybe someone rented the bar? “Hey Patrick, there you are!” she said, crouching down for a hug. “Good to finally meet in person!” I said “At first I thought I was in the wrong place. Seeing as nobody is dressed up.” “It’s just a munch,” Melis replied. “We just meet and talk here, the bdsm stuff happens someplace else.” I looked at her with big eyes. “Wait, so you mean,” I stumbled a bit. “No you wait, what are you wearing under your overcoat?” She reached out, trying to open it. “Euhm, not here please,” I said. I held my overcoat shut thigh and backed away a little. “Are you seriously wearing fetish wear to a munch?” she laughed. “I-I, didn’t know,” I stammered out. I wanted to run away, I felt like a little town hick who doesn’t know how the big city worked. I tried to turn around but was stopped by Melis. “Come on, just leave your overcoat on, you came all this way,” she said, holding my arm. “Let me introduce you to some people and have a drink. I will lead the way.” I followed her towards a group of people standing around a table. “Everyone, this is Patrick,” Melis introduced me. “Hello there,” the one guy at the back of the group said, Melis introduced him as Finn. “Good to meet you, I am Isabel, but you can call me Isa.” I just waved at everyone and tried to remember their names. There was a Gregg, an Isaac, who also wanted to be called Isa, Charlotte, but she goes by Lot, and an Ann. “Good to meet everyone,” I said when we were past the introductions. “Why don’t you lose your overcoat?” Lot asked. “It’s kinda cold in here,” I said. The group chuckled a little. The waitress went by our table and took our orders. “I got you,” Melis said. “You look like a whiskey guy, so let’s go with that.” “Nice guess,” I said. “As for the overcoat,” Melis addressed the group. “Patrick here made a little rookie mistake,” she said, while tapping my shoulder. “Coming to a munch in fetish wear?” Gregg asked. I nodded. “I get that, I did the same on my first munch,” Isaac said. “Good thing I liked the humiliation or else it would have been over for me,” he continued. “We didn’t even joke about it,” Lot said. “I know, but inside you know. It killed me, I was trying to make a good first impression. Probably the same for this new victim here,” Isaac said. “Victim?” I asked, raising one eyebrow. Our drinks arrived and I quickly took a sip from my whiskey. “Just something we call newbies here,” Melis replied. “No need to worry.” “Let Patrick relax and settle in a little,” The rest of the night was pretty relaxed. We talked about our histories, the does and don’ts in the bdsm world here. What places to go to and where not. We talked fetishes clothes and what the worst experiences were for one another. I was getting along pretty good with Gregg, he was a chill guy and knows about his whiskey’s. And works IT, we nerds sure know how to find each other. One by one they left the bar, until it was Me, Melis, and Lot who remained. “Time for me to go,” I said, finishing my third whiskey of the evening. “I shall walk you out,” Melis said. “Alright, bye Lot, thanks for a fun evening,” I said to her. “No, thank you. Always fun to meet new people,” she replied. “So I take it you had fun?” Melis asked while we were standing outside. “I did! Giving the circumstances,” I said, looking down at my overcoat. “You aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last,” Melis chuckled. “Lucky me,” I said. “They seem like a good bunch of people.” “They are, I met most of them online, except for Lot. We met way back in highschool.” “Ah, good friends since then hé?” “Kinda like that, with my work it is a little blurry as to what we are officially, and how my work falls into it,” Melis explained. “Oh, do I need to think more in the romantic way?” I asked. “Kinda, like I said, it is complicated as to what we really are. We are both open for dating though. If that is what you were really wondering,” Melis said. “Euhm, well, good to know, I guess,” I said. “I mean, I did wonder.” ‘I thought so. Well have a good night Patrick,“ Melis said. She bent down a little and gave me a kiss on my cheek. “Thanks, you too,” I said. I turned around and made my way back to my apartment. On my walk I received a text from Melis. “Hope I didn’t discourage you with Lot, call me sometime ;)” I put my phone back in my pocket and almost started to whistle.

Edward didn't hate going to the doctors, but he didn't enjoy it either. For starters, he was never sick. Ed was always healthy. As someone who ran five miles a day and kept up a pretty rigorous lifting routine, he was the type of person that would be on the front of the brochure that said "5 Steps to a Healthier You." Today was a regular check-up. When checking in, the receptionist at the front had him sign his name then handed him a water bottle. "You're going to have to take a urine test, so make sure you drink this." Robert nodded, accepting the bottle and casually chugging it while his insurance card was scanned and logged. After the receptionist mentioned the doctor was behind a little bit, Robert settled in for the long haul. The doctor's office only had two people in the waiting room, something about COVID restrictions, and to make matters worse, it appeared like the office was bustling that day. The receptionist kept picking up the phone and putting it back down, over and over. The words, "Dr. Vickers office, can you please hold," was starting to get awfully dizzying after a bit. After about 45 minutes, Ed decided to head back to the reception desk and see what the hold up was. "You're actually next," She responded, glancing at her computer. She handed him another bottle of water. "I am so sorry you have to wait. But there are a ton of COVID cases spiking and as you can imagine…" "Yeah." Ed thanked her for the water bottle and went back to his seat. He swished some water around in his mouth and swallowed. He hated the pee tests at the doctor. Surely he couldn't be the only one who had a hard time peeing on command. It's like you're peeing with someone watching. Who can do that? "Ed?" The nurse practitioner, Kristen, poked her head into the reception area. Ed stood up and walked behind her to the back area where the offices were. Doctor's offices always smelled like band-aids and latex gloves. It was like someone sprayed "latex fresh" all over the place. Tongue depressors that tasted like sterile wood and giant cotton balls were customary stables sitting on the hygienic countertops. The hint of hand sanitizer smashed into his nose at every turn. The nurse practitioner was probably the best part of visiting Dr. Vicker. Ed always noticed her full breasts that peaked ever so slightly from under her scrubs that were slightly low cut. He could never quite tell, but he was pretty sure she had an ass to match, but her lab coat always blocked that view. Ed was pretty sure everyone in the waiting room could agree with that sentiment… even some of the women. But the nurse practitioner was simply gorgeous, and she was pretty much a doctor, which meant she was smarter than he was too. After stepping onto the scale and answering a few initial questions, Kristen let him know that she'd be back in a moment with a cup for him to pee in - cause he was probably ready to go at this point. Snapping out of his trance, Ed nodded. He did have that telltale twinge in his bladder and had to go. "I'll go get the cup, and the doctor will be in in just a moment," Kristen said before leaving the room. But she didn't return. In fact, Ed just sat there squirming in his jeans and tee-shirt, wondering where she'd gotten off to. Ed stood up, felt the twinge in his bladder, and peaked into the hallway. He heard a lot of noise coming from the office down the hall. Judging by the commotion, the doctors seemed preoccupied at the moment. And yet Ed still had to pee. He looked around and noticed the bathroom was out of order. Worried he'd miss the return of Kristen and the cup, Ed limped his way back to the office. Ed decided he was going to stand instead and try and focus on his breathing. That seemed to be the right thing to do right now before he just peed all over the floor. But that walking turned into pacing and the pacing turned into jumping up and down. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Kirsten returned. "I am so sorry," she said. "We had a patient on telehealth who we needed to admit to the hospital. She was so reluctant to go because… well... you know, the virus. But hospitals are perfectly safe. They test everyone that comes in, the doctors are tested…" Kirsten kept talking while Ed danced back and forth. Finally, Ed couldn't take it anymore. "Nurse Kirsten. I'm sorry, but I really have to pee. Can I get that cup, please?" "Omg, of course!" Kirsten sounded shocked. "I am sorry." She reached into the cabinet and pulled out a cup. But before she could hand it to Ed, Dr. Vicker walked in. The man was 6' 4 on a bad day and looked like he could bench press anything that was in his way. As one of the top general practitioners in the area, wherever he went, he turned heads. "Edward." His loud booming voice echoed in the room. "Welcome back to the office." He squirted some hand sanitizer into his hand just in time to see Ed lose his battle with his bladder. The urine started slowly then made its way down the leg of his pants. His entire crotch was unnaturally warm as the urine began to run down his leg and then pool where his socks and shoes met. The worst part was the noise. To everyone in the room, it was obvious what had happened. "Um..." Dr. Vicker just stared. "Oh my goodness," Kirsten said quickly, running to the cabinet. "Don't worry, I didn't know you were…" her voice trailed off as she shuffled in the cabinets. But Dr. Vicker just started at Ed, his dark eyes drilling into him. Ed suddenly felt small. "Well, you need to take those off," the doctor said, gesturing to Ed's wet pants that were quickly becoming cold. "Um, yes, I guess, sure.." Ed shivered slightly. But he didn't move. Kirsten continued rustling through the cabinets and finally came up for air. She put a package on the table then turned to Ed. "What are you waiting for? They need to come off." Ed didn't budge. He was feeling pretty foolish at that moment, standing in his own urine. So Kristen did the work for him. She kneeled down and started unbuckling his pants. Pausing for a moment, Kirsten then pointed to his shoes. "Those have to come off," she said matter a factly. Ed kicked off his shoes and then reached down to pull off his now soaked socks. Ed was actually grateful for the masks they were all wearing; he hoped he didn't smell too bad. Kirsten began the process of removing his pants. Without thinking, Ed placed one arm on her shoulder to steady himself as she removed each leg hole, one at a time. He looked like a toddler. A shiver went through his spine as she reached for his underwear and yanked it down so fast. The air conditioning was causing him to feel chilly in a spot where breezes usually don't blow. "Come on." Kirsten snapped, smacking the side of his thigh. "Let's go." She motioned towards the underwear that was now stuck at his knees. Ed, feeling smaller by the moment, stepped out of that humiliating garment as well. It was now apparent that Ed was standing naked from the waist down while Dr. Vicker gave him a piercing stare. He could tell that he was slightly disappointed. His lip curled in some sort of sneer. Kirsten then grabbed the bottom of Ed's shirt. "Come in, baby. Let's go." She said. "Wait why..?" But he was muffled by both his mask and shirt that were muffling his voice. Ed raised his arms and the shirt was pulled off him on instinct from a time long before he was potty trained. His mask slipped off, and on instinct, he bent over to pick it. But it had fallen too far, slipping under the examination table. Ed bent down, getting on the cold floor to retrieve the mask. The floor was cold under his knees. Ed reached out and grabbed the mask and then, remembering he was naked, stood back up quickly. He put back on the mask as the doctor pulled out his clipboard and could see out of the corner of his eye that Kirsten was fumbling with a few packages she'd pulled from the cabinet. "Do you usually have trouble with continence?" Dr. Vicker asked condescendingly as Ed tried to cover up his privates with his hands. "Excuse me?" "Do you usually have trouble holding your urine and bowels?" Ed blushed. "I don't have trouble holding my pee." "It appears that you do. Look at the state of this floor. I'll need to do a more intensive examination than I planned." The doctor scowled. "I can't believe someone at your age is having these issues." "But I'm not…" The doctor held up his hand. "You're pathetic with these excuses, Edward." Ed fell silent. He had never heard the doctor speak to him this way before and figured it was best to comply to get this over with and hopefully gain this man's respect back. The doctor grabbed a few tongue depressors and began checking his hand. Then instructed Ed to open his mouth and checked around. Ed began dancing around a little again. He had to pee again. Generally, when he drank too much water, he found himself peeing too much. But the doctor took his time. But the time he reached his groin area, Ed was mortified. The doctor cupped his hands around Ed's testicles and then squeezed slightly. "Smaller than usual." The doctor said disappointedly to Kirsten, who had been taking notes on a clipboard. "We should do the longer exam to be safe." The nurse practitioner looked at Ed and sighed as if Ed was the source of a great inconvenience. "If we have to." The doctor looked over at her and said sharply, "He's peeing himself like a toddler. Of course, we have to." The loudspeaker crackled to life, calling the doctor out of the room. "I'll be back." He said. "Collect a sperm sample and check his bowels for me. Then make sure he's protected." "Wait a second…" Ed stammered. This examination was getting too intense for his liking. The nurse nodded, and Ed felt colder than he had all day as he tried to cover up what was left of his dignity in front of this beautiful woman. But Ed noticed a change in her. As soon as the doctor left, she got this devilish look in her eyes and smiled. Something about that look scared Ed. "Sit back on the table, please." She said quietly. Ed did so quickly so he could get this over with. She stood in front of Ed and looked him up and down greedily. Then she grabbed the package that she'd taken out of the cabinet earlier and pulled out a thick white square, and placed it between his legs. "Lift up for me, please." Ed paused for a moment. "Lift. Up." Kirsten said it with such firmness, Ed had no choice but to comply. She placed the plastic padding beneath him, and he put his but back down. Ed couldn't help but feel vulnerable in this very intimate moment at the doctor's office. Next, the nurse grabbed a bottle of gel and squeezed it on her hands. "This will be better if you relax," And before he knew it, she had shoved her fingers up his asshole. "Try and squeeze down for me." Kirsten said simply. Shocked, Ed did the best he could while feeling her invading his insides. She stared at him, deep into his eyes, while she probed him. "Can you try and clench?" She asked again? Ed tried, but his shock kept him from moving. She sighed and shook her head. "Fucking baby." "Hey, I'm not…" But Ed was clearly being ignored. Next, she removed her gloves and then put on another pair. This time she lathered more gel on her hands and fondled his balls, squeezing slightly and rubbing the gel in his most intimate crevices. Ed, at this point, was lying back, unable to stop himself from shivering inside. Admit it or not; this felt… pretty good. It might be worth the humiliation of the rest of the day just so he could endure this. He'd always liked Kirsten. She was beautiful. Her round breasts, her cute nose, everything about her screamed at his inner monster. He grew hard at her touch, and soon he was trying to match his hips to the rhythm of her movements. Fire boiled up inside his loins as she continued to stroke. Ed was getting close, and his breathing quickened. Had he given this movement any more thought, he might have fallen soft. Considering he was lying on an exam table with his legs open and getting a very medical handjob at the moment while being treated like an infant, this wasn't the worst thing that could happen. But right when he was about to cum, Kirsten stopped and took her gloves off. "That's enough of that." She said. "Wait, aren't you gonna?" "Gonna what?" She shot him a dirty look while instructing him to lay his head back on the take and start following directions. Ed was nervous. He had clearly misread the situation and gotten himself in trouble. He closed his eyes for a second as he lay back on the mat. He felt Kirsten tugging something soft and padded around his member and then felt it being taped up. "What are???" Ed's eyes shot open as he looked down. That white plastic square was a diaper. Was she kidding? He didn't need diapers. She glared at him. "You've proven, by wetting your pants, that you cannot be trusted to be fully continent. And," she raised her voice at Ed protests. "If you continue to fight back, I am going to have to call security. I doubt you'll want them to see you in your cute diapers. Now we have one more test, and that's to test to see how you take fluids." Ed stayed quiet because she, at the mention of "cute diapers," had patted him on the front of the diaper, driving him closer to the end of an orgasm. Kirsten shocked him by taking off her shirt and then leaning over the table and teasing her nipple in front of his face. "Suck baby." So he did, greedily. He sucked as much as he could. Enjoying the moment as he wiggled on the table. Ed figured that if he was going to have to suffer, he might as well enjoy himself. But as he sucked, she kept talking. Saying things like, "Good baby," and "that's my little boy." Ed tried his best to ignore her, but each time he'd hear her voice, his erection would get harder and harder until… Ed felt himself spurting in his diaper. He froze as the orgasm washed over him, causing him to feel extremely lightheaded and dizzy. His head jerked up over and over as his penis splashed cum onto the inside of his plastic padding. Then Ed fell backward and sighed. That was not satisfying at all. In fact, now that he finished spurting into his infantile padding, he felt a deep humiliation burning from within. In his haze, he hadn't realized that Kristen had stood back up and was now on the other side of the room taking notes on a clipboard, looking quite disappointed. Then a man's voice shattered the moment. "Looks like you will need these diapers after all." Dr. Vicker was back. Panic shot through Ed's brain as he condescendingly stepped to the table and looked at Ed, who at the moment had a full stomach and was sitting in a cum soaked diaper. "Nurse, let's make sure we get you a prescription for these." The doctor continued. "I think thick diapers for six months should do the trick. We can have them delivered to your house." "But I don't need them," Ed said stupidly. But the doctor just stared at him and squeezed his diaper. "It feels like you do to me." He then turned to the nurse. "And it looks like we need an enforcement mechanism. Sign him up for the diaper delivery service and write that the patient is reluctant to participate, they have ways of ensuring compliance." The doctor looked at Ed. "It would be in your best interest to participate and to do so as instructed. These people are serious. I've seen some boys like you never have their bladder and bowel control restored." "But I don't have issues…" Ed sputtered, moving to the edge of the table, fully aware of the slight squish that precluded that movement. "Keep that up, and you'll be punished." The doctor put down his iPad. "They'll make you eat baby food or replace all the furniture in your home with baby furniture. We had one guy come in here who hasn't cum in six months. That was…. scary. He just couldn't like most babies. Follow the program and you'll be fine, okay?" Ed just sat there as the doctor left the room. Nurse Kirsten handed him back his pants and gave his diaper a squeeze. "See you tomorrow at your place baby." She giggled and left the room. Ed swallowed hard. How was he going to get out of this one?

I wrote this story. I am not sure if I will continue but I wrote it out to a good stopping point. It is 27.5k words and about 90 pages. I hope everyone enjoys it as much as I did writing it. I really enjoy feedback, comments etc so if you provide feedback it will inspire me to write more. Chapter 1 The late afternoon sun slanted through the tall front windows of the living room, spilling golden stripes across the hardwood floor like a sleepy tiger stretched out in light. The house smelled of lemon furniture polish and faint espresso grounds, the kind of calm, lived-in scent that settled like warm breath on wood and woven blankets. Samantha sat half-curled on the couch, bare feet tucked under her, her laptop propped up by a couple of old engineering textbooks that made a makeshift desk on her thighs. Her eyes flicked across equations and circuit diagrams, her fingers occasionally tapping a note or rearranging a symbol, and every so often she muttered a correction under her breath, brows drawn, hair falling into her face. The front door clicked open. Samantha didn’t glance up. “Hey, Hol,” she said lazily, voice muffled by her focus, her tone light but warm. There was the soft shuffle of sneakers on the entry mat, the rustle of a backpack being dropped to the floor—then something else. A quiet, rhythmic swish, like thick fabric against a nylon strap. Samantha didn't look until she heard the refrigerator open. “Hey, Sam,” came Holly’s voice, smooth and slow like melting wax, tinged with that ever-present easygoing edge. “How’s the world of voltage and suffering?” Samantha smirked. “Still shocking, thanks. You?” Holly’s laugh was low and breathy, a quiet thrum in the room. “Mmm. Survived a senior project meeting with only minor existential damage.” The fridge door thumped shut and the soft pop of a soda tab filled the space. “What are we doing for dinner?” “Anything that isn’t ramen,” Samantha said, finally glancing up from her laptop—and pausing. Her eyes narrowed slightly. Holly had moved into the kitchen, out of view again, but something had caught Sam’s eye. Something... odd. Near the wall by the hallway, set down like a casual afterthought, was a bag. But not just any bag. It was pastel mint green and white gingham, soft-looking with wide shoulder straps and a ridiculous pattern of cartoon Snoopy and Woodstock dancing over it like some nostalgic relic of 90s childhood. The kind of thing you’d expect to see slung over the arm of a mom chasing a toddler, not the chilled-out, all-grown Holly. Something about it buzzed wrong in Samantha’s brain—not just because she’d never seen it before, but because of what it looked like. It wasn’t quite a gym bag, not a backpack, not really a tote either. It was... structured. Reinforced at the corners. Padded-looking, like it had compartments for delicate things. Maybe insulated? Could it be for lunches? But it was so... big. “What’s that?” Samantha asked, gesturing toward the bag. Holly’s voice drifted from the kitchen. “Hmm?” “That bag by the hallway. Snoopy one. Is that new?” There was a pause. Just the briefest flick of silence that wasn’t quite long enough to be suspicious—but not short enough to be forgotten. “Oh. Yeah. Picked it up at a vintage shop,” Holly replied easily, the clink of a glass setting down following her words. “Isn’t it wild? Totally cute.” “It’s... something,” Samantha said, her tone light but confused. “Never seen it before.” “Just got it today. Thought it’d be funny.” Another pause, then, with an airy chuckle: “Anyway, I’ve gotta take this call, sorry! Be back down later.” And with that, footsteps padded up the stairs. The sound of a bedroom door clicking shut echoed faintly. Samantha stared at the hallway. The silence that followed was the familiar kind, wrapped around her like a blanket—still, calm, the steady hum of her laptop fan and a distant birdcall outside the window the only interruptions. She blinked, took a sip from her water bottle, and tried to return to her notes. Thirty minutes later, she realized she hadn’t added a single line. Her attention kept snagging. Every time her eyes dropped to the screen, her mind looped back around. The bag. That damn bag. It was too cute. That was the thing. Too deliberately cute. It was almost performative in its charm. Like, a grown woman with a pastel cartoon Snoopy bag? That wasn’t just quirky—it was curated. Intentional. And she’d never seen it before, even though they lived together, shared groceries, cleaned the same house. Holly didn’t usually hide her thrift hauls. She was proud of them, always swinging a new find into the room with a grin, showing off a weird lamp or a floral jumpsuit like it was high art. But this? It had just... appeared. Samantha finally closed her laptop with a sigh, the click echoing into the quiet room. She stretched her arms overhead, bones crackling, then stood, toes flexing against the rug before she padded barefoot toward the bag. The closer she got, the stranger it felt. The bag was definitely high-quality, well-made. The kind of stitching that didn’t fray. It smelled faintly of something floral—baby powder? No, softer. Maybe lavender detergent and plastic. There was a faint sheen on the zipper pulls, polished silver catching the light. She crouched beside it, one hand reaching out, fingers brushing the textured fabric. Not insulated. Not a cooler. Her brows knit together, curiosity growing sharper. There was a front flap. Wide. Snapped closed. She glanced up, then back toward the stairs. Still silence. She hesitated a breath longer, then tugged open the flap with a soft fwip. Her eyes flicked down. Inside were smaller pouches, all neatly arranged. One was mesh, containing a small bottle of baby oil. Another had what looked like wipes—actual baby wipes, unscented. Then there was a folded changing mat, mint green, clean and new, tucked against the back wall of the bag. Samantha blinked. There was another compartment. A zipper this time. She slid it down slowly. The teeth parted with a gentle hiss of nylon. Inside were folded, sealed plastic packages—thick, soft-looking... what even were these? She reached in, brushed a finger against one. It crinkled under her touch. Smooth plastic, cartoon patterns—little stars, teddy bears, crescent moons. Thick, absorbent padding? Diapers. Big ones. Not for babies. Samantha froze. Her breath caught in her throat, every neuron lighting up at once. The bag hadn’t been left there by accident. Holly had just... set it down. Like it was nothing. Like it belonged. But nothing about this felt casual. Nothing about it made sense. It was both completely innocent in appearance and impossibly charged in implication. Her heart was suddenly in her ears, pounding like it was trying to escape. She leaned forward, fingers trembling slightly now, and peeled back another soft flap, peering deeper into the bag. What else was in here? The first thing Samantha pulled free was the wooden hairbrush. It wasn’t just for brushing hair. That much was clear the moment her fingers wrapped around the worn, smooth handle. The grain of the wood had been polished by use, not vanity. The back was broad and flat, the kind of surface that wasn’t really meant for detangling anything. It was the kind of brush meant to make a sound when it hit skin. She stared at it for a moment, blinking slowly as she turned it over in her hands, reading the glint of wear in the lacquer, the slight round of the bristles long ignored in favor of the brush’s other, more intentional use. She set it down beside the bag and kept going. Next came a soft rattle of metal against nylon—she reached into the corner pouch and her hand closed around something cool, hard. A pair of handcuffs, not the plastic fuzzy kind from a party store, but real ones, heavy and silvery and compact, like something clipped to a belt in a dark alley. Her breath hitched just slightly. She set those down too, beside the brush, like puzzle pieces in a game she didn’t know the rules of. The rustling of the main compartment brought her next find into view. It was pastel blue. Silicone. An adult-sized pacifier. Her fingers hesitated above it for a long second before she dared to touch it. It lay there nestled in a mesh pocket like it belonged—clean, deliberate, with a little plastic loop and a curve wide enough to press into a full-grown mouth. Her lips parted slightly, her tongue flicking unconsciously across them as her mind spun out in a dozen different directions, none of them landing anywhere solid. There was a rustle of soft plastic again as she shifted the flap and found—no way. Samantha’s fingers curled around something glossy, slippery, and pulled it free: a diaper cover. The same pattern as the bag. Gingham mint green. Dancing cartoon Snoopy and Woodstock in gleeful ignorance of context, the elastic bands puffed and pristine like they were waiting for a storybook child to come running through a field. But this wasn’t for a child. The waistbands were too big. The hips too wide. This was adult-sized. Designed, cut, and stitched for someone fully grown. Her pulse thudded at the base of her throat as she reached further. A sippy cup. The kind with a soft silicone mouthpiece and two grip handles on either side, but adult-sized. She tested the weight, disbelieving, then found a baby bottle next to it—also grown up in scale, the nipple longer, thicker, the bottle built to fit full meals of liquid, not formula. Its surface was printed with tiny clouds and smiling stars. Samantha stared at it, transfixed. This wasn't a joke. None of it was. The smell inside the bag had deepened—a faint powdery sweetness and something else she couldn’t place, like warmth and safety and a memory she couldn’t name. Her heart was in her ears again, cheeks warming with a blush that had no name, just heat and confusion and something that felt like falling— SMACK. A firm, open-palmed swat landed directly on her butt. Not hard enough to hurt, but definite enough to jolt her entire body like someone had plugged her spine into an outlet. “Hey now,” came Holly’s voice, low and laced with a smirk, “didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to go through someone else’s things?” Samantha yelped—actually yelped—and dropped the diaper cover like it burned, spinning upright so fast she nearly tripped over herself. Her hands shot behind her, palms awkwardly covering the spot Holly had just smacked as if she could erase the moment from existence. Her face was flushed, her mouth trying to form a sentence and failing at every attempt. “H-Holly! I—I didn’t, I mean, I was just—” Holly stood in the archway, one hand on her hip, the other holding her now-finished soda can, a lazy, amused glint sparkling behind her blue eyes. Her golden hair was tied back messily, a few strands stuck to the curve of her cheek, and she looked infuriatingly calm. “Curiosity,” she said with the long, teasing drawl of someone who knew she had the upper hand, “is very cute, Sammy. But you know what happened the last time someone poked around in that bag without asking?” Samantha blinked, heart still racing. “I—what?” “They got in trouble,” Holly said, her grin widening like a crescent moon, “and ended up in timeout.” Samantha’s brain short-circuited. Her mouth moved but nothing came out. She gaped at her roommate like she was hearing her speak Martian. The idea—her, in timeout? Her, over this? She wasn’t a kid, she wasn’t—wait, why did that idea make her stomach do flips? Holly tilted her head and took a step closer. “Hmm. Do you need a timeout, Sammy?” Her voice went singsong on the name, like she was addressing a disobedient preschooler. “I think someone’s been naughty.” Samantha’s entire body flushed. She had no idea what to say, what to think—what to feel. The tension between them thickened, but not in a hostile way. It was charged, electric, like static before lightning. Holly’s grin didn’t waver for a second. And then, after exactly five seconds of eye contact so potent it could’ve started a small fire, Holly laughed. “Relax. I’m just kidding.” She put everything back in and scooped up the diaper bag in one fluid motion, slinging it back over her shoulder like it was just a yoga tote, and padded off toward the stairs. Samantha didn’t move. She just stood there. Frozen. Heart pounding. Mind spinning. Watching the sway of that ridiculous bag disappear around the corner, her ears ringing with the sound of her own pulse and the echo of Holly’s voice whispering Do you need a timeout, Sammy? in the back of her head like a spell cast and still sinking into her skin. Dinner was quiet—but not in the peaceful, shared-comfort kind of way. The kind of quiet that pressed against the walls like rising steam, curling around the silverware and the low hum of the ceiling fan overhead. Forks clinked against ceramic. The smell of baked garlic and roasted vegetables hung thick in the air, layered over with the buttery heat of toasted bread, but Samantha barely tasted a bite. She stabbed a piece of zucchini, chewed, nodded absently at something Holly hadn’t even said. Her eyes drifted—not directly at her roommate, but in her orbit. Holly sat across the table, long legs crossed at the ankles, her plate half-finished, posture easy and a little slouched, like someone completely unaware or unbothered. Her blond hair was twisted up into a messy bun that swayed gently every time she tilted her head to sip her sparkling water. She looked... like she hadn’t a care in the world. And Samantha hated how much that made her feel like she had every care. Holly hadn't said a thing since earlier. Just came down for dinner, dished out portions like everything was normal, and sat. Smiling. Not smug. Not teasing. Just... watching. Patiently. Like she was waiting for something to bloom. Samantha cleared her throat, pushing her food around as casually as she could manage. “So... how was your day?” Holly didn’t miss a beat. “Not too bad,” she said, scooping up a bite of roasted sweet potato with the same grace she’d use to tie a flower into her hair. “Had a couple early morning classes. Worked for a bit. Came home. Nothing too exciting.” Samantha blinked. “Wait—you worked?” “Mmhmm.” Holly popped the bite into her mouth, chewed slowly, calmly. Her blue eyes lifted just slightly to meet Sam’s across the table. “I babysit sometimes.” Samantha paused. She blinked again, as if that might clear whatever fog had slipped into her brain like gas under a locked door. “Since when?” “Oh, on and off,” Holly said, waving a hand lazily. “Helps pay for the expensive cheese I keep buying.” It should’ve made sense. Holly would babysit. She had that kind of presence—calm, nurturing, surprisingly firm when she needed to be. Samantha could absolutely see some exhausted couple handing their toddler over to Holly with a sigh of relief. It made perfect sense. Except for the contents of that bag. Pacifier. Sippy cup. Handcuffs. And that brush. Samantha could still feel the polished curve of it in her palm. “So...” Samantha kept her voice light, casual, so casual she could barely recognize it herself, “that’s why you had that bag with you today? The, uh. Diaper bag?” Holly didn’t even look surprised. In fact, she smiled. Not a big, wide, “gotcha” smile. Just a tiny, slow-curling, quiet kind of smile. Like she’d been waiting for this very question, like it was the blooming of a flower she’d planted hours ago and watered with nothing but silence and that one swat earlier. “You seem awfully interested in that diaper bag,” she said, tone feather-soft but unmistakably sharp around the edges. Samantha flushed. “What? No, I was just... I mean, it was just there, and I hadn’t seen it before, and it’s—” “Sure,” Holly said, cutting her off with a grin and another sip of her drink. “Sure you’re not.” Samantha’s face burned. She fumbled with her fork, glanced down at her plate, then back up. “Well, is that why you had it?” she asked again, louder this time. “You were babysitting today?” Holly nodded. “Mmhmm.” And nothing more. No elaboration. No explanation. Just that single sound, calm and content, like she was answering whether or not she’d watered the houseplants. But Samantha had seen what was in that bag. Those weren’t toddler-sized diapers. That wasn’t a normal hairbrush. Pacifiers weren’t sold with adult-sized bottles unless someone meant them to go together. She wasn’t stupid. She was an engineering student, for god’s sake—she’d spent three days debugging a fluid dynamics simulation but she could not compute what she’d seen upstairs and the words now coming out of Holly’s mouth. She tried again. “Oh,” she said, stabbing her food again, voice trying to sound curious but not too curious, casual but not disbelieving. “So... why, uh... were there some... unusual things in the bag?” She was proud she managed to get the sentence out. The word “unusual” hung in the air like a helium balloon caught in the rafters, dangling just out of reach. Holly didn't speak immediately. She chewed a slow bite of asparagus. Swallowed. Set her fork down delicately beside her plate. Then she leaned back just slightly, one arm draped over the back of her chair, eyes locked on Samantha like a cat watching something twitch under the couch. “Unusual?” she asked, voice soft and blank like the space before a storm. Samantha’s face went crimson. “I mean—just, like. Stuff I didn’t expect,” she said quickly. “In a diaper bag. That’s all. Just... you know. Not baby stuff.” Holly raised a brow, and Samantha hated the way that one tiny movement made her feel like she was back under a microscope in chem lab. Heat clawed its way up her throat. “Oh?” Holly said, tilting her head slightly. “You went pretty far in there to figure that out.” Samantha dropped her gaze. “I wasn’t snooping, I was—” “Exploring,” Holly offered, a wicked glimmer in her eyes. “Curiously. Like a little scientist.” Samantha wanted to crawl under the table. But she didn’t. She stayed right there. Her thighs pressed tightly together under the table. Her fingers clenched in her napkin. Her heart beating a little too fast, not because she was afraid, not exactly—but because she didn’t understand what was happening inside her, didn’t understand why that quiet teasing voice and those perfectly normal words were making her feel like the floor was shifting beneath her. Holly didn’t say anything else. She just smiled. Bit into a carrot. Samantha swallowed, trying to act normal, trying to pretend this was just dinner and nothing more, trying not to think about the adult pacifier and the mint-green diaper cover with cheerful Snoopy prints tucked into a bag that had definitely not been packed for a toddler. She shifted in her seat. And somehow, despite herself, despite the confusion still swirling like smoke in her chest, she asked: “So... why were there... handcuffs in a diaper bag?” Chapter 2 Holly didn’t even blink. She just leaned back in her chair with the kind of smug grace that came from knowing exactly what was coming next and watching it unfold, like a magician watching her cards flip one by one in someone else’s hand. That slow, dangerous smile crept back onto her face, the one that made Samantha’s stomach twist and heat curl low in her spine. “I’ll answer your question,” Holly said, picking up her water glass and swirling it absently, “but only after you answer mine.” Samantha blinked. “Wait, what?” Holly tilted her head, golden strands falling loose from her bun as she pinned Sam with that maddeningly calm stare. “When I came home,” she said softly, “I put the diaper bag over there—” she gestured lazily toward the corner of the living room, the spot still faintly marked by the square of sunlight that had caught the edge of the gingham pattern earlier, “—not exactly in your path. Not next to the fridge. Not near the couch. But somehow, when I came back downstairs, you had managed to go through it so thoroughly that you found the handcuffs.” She let that hang in the air. Samantha's throat was dry. “They were at the bottom,” Holly continued, smile not breaking. “Of a side pocket. Not exactly visible at a glance.” She leaned forward just slightly, the edge of her voice sharpening like a knife being gently honed on a whetstone. “So I’m just curious, Sammy. What was so interesting about a diaper bag... that got you to examine it like you were prepping for an experiment?” Samantha’s mouth opened. Closed. Her hand tightened around her fork even though she wasn’t going to eat another bite. “I—” she started, then stopped. “I don’t... I don’t know.” And she didn’t. Not really. She didn’t know why the mint-green gingham pulled her eyes like a tractor beam. She didn’t know why her breath caught when she touched the brush, or why Holly’s words earlier—Do you need a timeout?—had curled around her brain and refused to leave, echoing back again and again like some childish mantra cloaked in something darker, something hotter. She didn’t know why the plastic crinkle of those diapers made her thighs tense under the table. She didn’t know why she was flushed just sitting here. All she knew was that something had clicked open inside her, and she wasn’t sure whether she was terrified or fascinated—or both. Holly watched her flounder. Didn’t press. Just sipped from her glass again. Samantha sat in silence. And then Holly said, casual as you please, “You remember earlier, when I asked if you needed a timeout?” Samantha’s breath caught. She looked up. Holly set the glass down. Her fingers traced the condensation on the rim, slow and idle. “If you can’t answer my question, maybe a little time in timeout would help you figure it out.” That landed like a thunderclap. Samantha blinked. Her heart tripped over itself. “I—” she sputtered, a flush racing up her chest. “I don’t... I mean, what if I don’t want to go to timeout?” Her voice was smaller than she meant it to be. Not quite scared, but uncertain, like she was stepping into water she couldn’t see the bottom of. Holly’s grin widened. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, voice velvet and honey and mischief. “If you don’t answer my question, you don’t get a choice.” Samantha’s whole body tensed—but not in fear. Not in the way you brace for impact. It was a tension like a wire being drawn tight, humming with energy. She couldn’t explain it. Didn’t have the vocabulary for the sensation blooming under her skin. It wasn’t just embarrassment. It wasn’t just confusion. It was heat. It was interest, messy and tangled and unknown. And Holly knew. Of course she knew. She could see it in Samantha’s eyes, in the pink blooming across her cheeks, in the way she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs under the table like she couldn’t get comfortable. Samantha swallowed. “I’m... I’m not going to timeout.” It came out a whisper. Defiant, but weak. Like a kindergartener standing up to the teacher and regretting it halfway through. Holly let out a soft laugh—that laugh, the one that made Samantha’s stomach do backflips. “Then answer the question.” Her tone shifted again—gentle but firm, like she was speaking to a stubborn child. There was something coiling in the words, something almost parental in the cadence, and it made Samantha feel eight inches tall. And then Holly dropped her voice further. “Unless,” she said, tapping one manicured finger against her glass, “you’re going to throw a tantrum in timeout too. In which case, I might have to think about... further consequences.” Samantha stared at her. Mouth dry. Heart racing. Body hot all over. She had no idea what to say. She didn’t even know what she wanted to say. Her lips parted. Closed again. Her thighs pressed together beneath the table like they were trying to hide the swirl of heat gathering between them. She wanted to ask. Wanted to know what this all meant. Wanted to know why Holly had that bag, why the things inside didn’t match the story she was giving, and why every word out of Holly’s mouth made her feel like she was slipping into some deeper current she didn’t understand. But all she could do was sit there. Frozen. Confused. Burning. Not sure what to do. Samantha’s voice barely broke the space between them. “I... I don’t know why I was so interested.” The words floated across the table like a secret dropped in the middle of dinner. Her eyes didn’t quite meet Holly’s; they hung somewhere near her fork, focused on the reflection of kitchen light on steel tines. Her shoulders curled slightly inward, instinctively shielding herself from something she couldn’t name. Holly, of course, grinned. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, drawing the syllables out like they were dipped in molasses. “That’s not gonna cut it.” Samantha’s cheeks burned, a vivid pink blooming across her skin, and she squirmed slightly in her chair. Still, there was something in the air—something stronger now than earlier. Like a rope wrapping slowly around her, drawing tighter with every sentence. She cleared her throat and lifted her chin, just a little. “I really don’t know,” she said again, but it came out softer than intended—whinier. The sound made her freeze in place. Holly’s lips twitched upward. “Mm-mm. That’s not a good enough answer,” she said, her voice honeyed but firm, like a mother gently chastising a child who knows exactly what they did wrong. “Now, it’s time to decide, Sammy.” Samantha’s stomach fluttered at the way she said her name. Not “Sam.” Not “Samantha.” Sammy. Diminutive. Intimate. Dangerous. “The next words out of your mouth,” Holly continued, pointing slowly toward the living room corner where the diaper bag had once sat—“are either going to be your actual answer, or you’re going to get up, walk over to that corner, and stand there until you can come up with one.” Samantha's lips parted. She stared at Holly, stunned. Was she serious? Her heart thudded. She couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed, panicked, or something far stranger, something warmer. Her mind raced, trying to parse the space between play and punishment, between teasing and command. Holly’s expression didn’t change. Still that soft, knowing smirk. Still that quiet control behind her voice, effortless and absolute. Samantha swallowed hard. She wanted to push back. But she didn’t. She took a deep breath instead, every muscle tensing with the effort of keeping still. “I just... I don’t know,” she said, slower this time, honestly. “I’d never seen you carry a bag like that before. And then when I looked in it, I noticed the diapers were adult-sized.” She hesitated, and when she continued, her voice dipped further, not quite ashamed but certainly shy. “And then there was the sippy cup. The big one. And the bottle. And it just kept getting more... weird. And more... interesting.” She looked up quickly, trying to read Holly’s face—only to find her roommate wearing a grin, not wide and wolfish, but tight and secretive, like Samantha had whispered something forbidden and Holly was delighted by it. That look made Samantha feel exposed in a way her words hadn’t. Like Holly knew what was unfolding inside her long before she did. Like she’d been waiting for this moment, for the truth to slide out from between Samantha’s defenses. But what had she revealed? Samantha didn’t know. Only that the air felt thick, and her own heartbeat had become thunder in her chest. Holly leaned forward slightly, arms resting on the edge of the table, and asked, ever so softly: “What did you like about the diapers?” The question hit like a slap made of silk. Samantha’s breath caught. Her entire body tightened. “I—I—” she started, eyes wide, skin hot. “You—you promised to answer my question first!” Holly burst out laughing. God, she was beautiful when she laughed like that. Not mocking, not cruel—just amused, utterly and completely enjoying herself, like a cat toying with a ribbon that had tied itself in a knot. “Alright, alright,” she said, catching her breath, eyes sparkling. “Fair’s fair.” She leaned closer, resting her chin on her hand, her gaze never leaving Samantha’s face. “The handcuffs,” Holly said, her voice suddenly huskier, lower, like she was telling a dirty secret, “are for restraining people. Silly.” She let the word silly land with playful cruelty, as if Samantha had asked what a fork was for. Then Holly straightened just a little and fixed her full attention—all of it—on Samantha’s eyes. “They’re especially effective,” she said quietly, “at keeping curious hands in place.” The words slammed into Samantha like a gust of wind, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her thighs pressed tighter together beneath the table, heat rushing through her so fast she nearly gasped. And Holly just stared at her. Waiting. That same question still hanging in the air. What did you like about the diapers? Samantha’s voice came fast, rushed, defensive: “There was nothing I liked about them.” Holly tilted her head. Her smile spread, slow and catlike. “Mm,” she said, as if weighing the words like fruit in a market. “Now that’s awfully naughty of you.” Samantha froze again, skin flushed hot all over. “To lie to me like that,” Holly continued, her voice going light again, teasing, but with a current running beneath it—something darker, something in control. “I thought you were supposed to be the good one, Sammy.” Samantha didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know where to look. Her hands fidgeted in her lap. She wanted to bolt. She wanted to stay. Her pulse was hammering and her throat was tight and Holly hadn’t moved an inch but it felt like she was drawing closer with every word. Then, after a small pause, Holly said it—soft and wicked, casual as a comment about dessert: “Maybe I should just put you in a diaper.” Samantha’s eyes widened. Holly went on, like she was talking about the weather. “Might help you figure out what you like so much about them.” Samantha didn’t breathe. Didn’t move. Didn’t know what to do. Samantha sits in her chair, paralyzed in a blur of dread and heat, as Holly rises and leaves the dining room. Her bare feet whisper against the hardwood floor as she walks away, the sound impossibly loud in the silence that follows. Samantha’s eyes are locked on the hallway, watching Holly disappear into the shadows of her room. Her heart is beating like it’s trying to outrun her chest. She should leave. Get up, laugh, brush it off, do something. Instead, she sits there, knuckles white on her thighs, the silence thick around her as a wave of shame crashes over her. But something else is tangled up in it. Something not shame. Something deeper. Older. She doesn’t know what it is, only that it roots her to the seat like she’s being pulled down. Thirty seconds later, Holly returns. She’s carrying a thick white diaper, colorful and cartoonish—its landing zone covered in cheerful foxes, sleepy clouds, and balloons with smiling faces. Alongside it, Holly carries a pack of baby wipes, and a large bottle of baby powder with a pink lid, all nestled neatly in the crook of her arm like a diaper-changing caddy straight out of a parenting commercial. Samantha’s stomach drops into her shoes. She watches every step Holly takes, her body coiled so tight it hums. As Holly passes her on the way to the table, she swings the diaper lightly against Samantha’s shoulder with a papf—playful, harmless, but thick and soft enough that Samantha flinches like she’s been branded. She jolts back in her chair with a gasp and nearly topples over. “Oh my god,” she squeaks, hands gripping the edges of the table like a lifeline. Holly cackles. “Relax, Sammy. You act like it bit you.” Samantha’s face is crimson, and she knows it. Her thighs are pressed together so tight it hurts. Holly drops everything on the table—the diaper unfurling a little as it lands, its pastel foxes smiling up at them both—and sits again with that maddening calmness, that queen-in-her-throne energy. She taps a finger against the powder bottle like she’s checking the weather. “Well,” Holly says brightly, “are you ready for your diaper?” She says it just like that. Like she’s asking a sleepy toddler if they’re ready for naptime. Samantha swallows a noise that wasn’t quite a gasp. “I—I don’t want to wear a diaper,” she mumbles, her voice as weak and unconvincing as a toddler caught stealing cookies. Holly roars with laughter. “Oh my god, that was adorable,” she says, wiping the corner of her eye with a knuckle. “That was the most pitiful little ‘no’ I’ve ever heard. You sounded like you were begging me to put it on you.” “I wasn’t,” Samantha says quickly, but her voice is too tight, too breathy. “Oh, but you are going to wear it,” Holly says simply, almost sweetly. “And you’re going to spend a little time thinking about why you’re so fascinated with this whole thing.” Samantha opens her mouth, but Holly holds up a finger. “But first,” she continues, “I need to know something important.” She leans forward, eyes locked on Samantha’s. Her voice softens, curling like satin. “Can I trust you to behave during your diaper change and timeout?” Samantha stares at her. She doesn’t answer. She can’t. Her brain has completely shorted out, her body burning up with something wild and inexplicable, like every nerve has been set to vibrate. The room tilts slightly. Her heart thunders behind her ribs. Holly nods slowly, knowingly. “That’s a no, huh?” She clicks her tongue once. “Well, I know you found that hairbrush in the bag, Sammy.” Samantha stiffens. “I also know you know exactly what it’s used for.” Holly smiles, sweet and sharp like candy glass. “It’d be unfortunate if I had to make an introduction between the two of you.” Samantha gulps and nods, quickly. “Good girl,” Holly says gently. Chapter 3 Holly stands, lifting the diaper from the table with one hand, and moves to the open area of the living room where the sunlight’s grown dim and golden. She crouches gracefully, unfolding the diaper on the floor with the ease of long-practiced hands, smoothing it out flat with her palm, fluffing the thick padding so it puffs open wide. “Come here,” she says. Samantha doesn’t move. Not until Holly looks up and says, a little differently, “Sammy.” The tone. Commanding. Serious. Not loud. Just final. And Samantha moves. Each step feels impossible. Her knees weak, feet bare on the cool wood. She walks like she’s being summoned by magic, a sleepwalker stepping into a spell. When she reaches Holly, the world feels smaller. Warmer. Intimate in a way that defies explanation. “Good girl,” Holly whispers again, gently taking Samantha’s hand and guiding her down. Samantha doesn’t resist. She lies back on the open diaper, the thickness puffing beneath her. The soft crinkle of it is deafening in the quiet room. Her heart pounds as Holly gently lifts her skirt. Fingers hook under the waistband of her panties. Samantha gasps softly as Holly slides them down and off with practiced grace, folding them and setting them aside like laundry. Samantha’s bare bottom rests against the soft, dry padding of the unfolded diaper, and every part of her is flushed so hot it’s like her blood has turned to fire. Then come the wipes. Cold. Startling. Holly wipes her with slow, deliberate care—clinical but gentle, like she’s changing someone she cares about. The wipe slides along her folds, her thighs, her skin prickling under the attention. Samantha bites her lip and closes her eyes, the humiliation soaking into her like water into cotton, but there’s a flutter in her belly she can’t name, a twist of something deep and shivery that she doesn’t want to stop. Then comes the powder. The scent is soft, floral and sweet, like clean laundry and childhood. Holly dusts it liberally across her skin, patting it in with practiced hands. “There we go,” Holly hums, as if she’s narrating this for no one at all. Then, with practiced efficiency, she folds the diaper up between Samantha’s legs. It cradles her. Pillowy. Warm. The padding presses against her with a shocking intimacy. She opens her eyes just in time to watch Holly smooth the front down, centering the foxes over her tummy, and then—rippp—one tape is pulled, pressed, sealed snug against her hip. Another. Then another. Four in all. Tight. Secure. Samantha’s legs tremble slightly. She can feel the diaper all around her, thick and inescapable, the soft crinkle echoing every breath she takes. Holly helps her sit up. Then pats her diapered butt. Samantha whimpers. Actually whimpers. “That’s a good fit,” Holly says with a pleased smile, smoothing the waistband at the back with both hands, like she’s checking the snugness on a toddler before nap. “Nice and tight. No leaks.” Samantha can barely breathe. The padding muffles everything. Her movement. Her thoughts. Her pride. But her skin is electric. Holly stands in front of her, hands on her hips, eyes sparkling with satisfaction. Then she tilts her head and says, in a syrupy singsong: “You look so cute like that, Sammy.” Samantha's eyes dropped, slowly, as if dragged by invisible hands. She looked down at herself—at the thick, puffy white bulk between her thighs, pastel foxes grinning up from her hips, cheerful and oblivious to her shame. Her skirt, once modest and loose, now rode up helplessly over the diaper’s curve, barely covering anything. The hem sat halfway up the padding, fluttering with every little movement. She could see it. Feel it. Hear it. And Holly didn’t give her long to sit with it. “Come on,” Holly said softly, her tone somewhere between coaxing and commanding, and she took Samantha by the wrist—not hard, not dragging, but firm. Unmistakable. The kind of grip that said you’re coming with me, now. Samantha rose without protest, her steps stiff, her balance thrown slightly off by the thick new padding forcing her thighs apart. She waddled as Holly led her across the hardwood floor to the same corner where the diaper bag had first caught her attention, like a trap baited with mint gingham and innocent nostalgia. Every step made her flinch with a soft crinkle, and she knew Holly could hear it too. When they reached the corner, Holly turned her gently and pressed one firm palm against her back. “Face the corner,” she said, voice low and syrup-sweet, like she was talking to a child who’d been sent there many times before. Her other hand landed on Samantha’s padded rear with a few brisk pats. “Hands at your sides. No fidgeting. No turning around.” Samantha’s cheeks burned so red she thought they might melt right off. “And if I see you doing anything but standing here, if I see you twitching, playing with your diaper, wandering off, whatever.... you will regret it. Understand?” Samantha nodded, the sound of her hair rustling against her shoulders loud in the still air. “Good. Because when you come out of timeout...” Holly’s voice dipped closer to her ear, warm breath teasing her neck, “you’re going to tell me exactly what you find so fascinating about those diapers.” And then Holly was gone....walking away, back toward the table. The sound of plates clinking together, silverware gathering in soft piles, drifted through the room like background noise from another world. Samantha stood frozen. Her forehead hovered inches from the wall, her arms hung at her sides, her fingers twitching slightly but otherwise still. Her whole body buzzed with awareness. She felt the diaper like it had become part of her, a second skin, alien and thick and impossible to ignore. She couldn’t stop thinking about how visible it was, how nothing but that tiny bit of skirt stood between her and total exposure. She felt ridiculous. She felt humiliated. But most of all—most of all—she felt something she couldn’t name. Something wicked and warm and wrong in the best possible way. Because the truth was, it didn’t feel bad. The shame was like a drug. The helplessness, the control Holly had over her, the soft, crinkling echo of every breath she took in that padded prison. It was doing something to her. She wasn’t supposed to like this, and maybe she didn’t. But her body was responding. Her thoughts spiraled in circles, back and back and back to the moment Holly unfolded the diaper, the way her fingers smoothed the powder into her skin, how secure the tapes had felt, closing her in. Fifteen long minutes passed like that. Her mind roamed everywhere and nowhere. She didn’t want to wet the diaper. She told herself that at least a dozen times. But her bladder was definitely sending signals now. Gentle ones, but getting stronger. And she couldn’t help it, her mind kept dancing with the possibility. With the question: What if I just... did? The image flashed across her vision—of standing here, blushing, as the warmth spread between her thighs, absorbed silently by the padding Holly had put her in. She shuddered, just slightly. Behind her, dishes clinked one last time. And then: footsteps. Holly’s bare feet padded softly across the floor, and before Samantha could brace for anything, a hand was on her shoulder. Not hard. Gentle. She turned her slowly. Holly’s expression was warm. That teasing smile was still there, but there was a softness to it now, an intimacy. “You ready to talk?” she asked, like she was checking on a toddler after a tantrum, like she already knew the answer. Samantha nodded, eyes cast down. “That’s my girl,” Holly said, and took her hand again leading her not back to the table, but to the couch. Samantha waddled quietly beside her. Every step made her wince. The crinkling was so loud now in the quiet living room, like thunder in her ears. She could only imagine how she looked from behind—her skirt riding up her back, the cartoon foxes on full display, her butt puffed out like she was wearing a pillow. Holly sat first. Then, gently, she guided Samantha down. The diaper crunched as she sat. Loudly. She froze halfway down, horrified—but Holly pulled her the rest of the way with ease. Samantha’s butt sank into the cushions, the diaper spreading under her with a fwump, warm and soft and thick beneath her. Her legs splayed slightly on instinct. Her cheeks burned hotter than ever. And Holly looked down at her with that same infuriating grin. Her eyes roamed openly over the diapered girl beside her. And then she said it, like she was commenting on the weather: “You look so cute right now.” Samantha didn’t feel cute. Not in the way Holly said it, like it was some adorable, saccharine moment meant to make her blush and smile. She didn’t feel small and pretty and precious. She felt small, yes, but raw with it. Like all her armor had been peeled away, inch by inch, until she was nothing but exposed nerves and crinkling plastic and this impossible pressure curling tighter and tighter inside her. Every time she moved, the diaper whispered around her hips. Every shift of her thighs pressed thick padding between her legs, keeping them apart. Her skirt might as well have not existed—at this point it did nothing, just a frilly suggestion flared out around the massive bulk taped around her. She could feel it everywhere. She couldn’t not feel it. Worse, she could feel her bladder. And it wasn’t just a background pressure anymore. It was growing. Pushing. Tapping at her awareness like a persistent knock on the door she didn’t want to open. And she knew. She knew what Holly’s solution was going to be. There was only one way this ended. Holly leaned back on the couch beside her, long and languid like a sun-warmed cat, clearly enjoying every flicker of emotion that played across Samantha’s face. “So,” she said with a grin, “how do you like your diaper?” “It’s not my diaper,” Samantha mumbled immediately, eyes dropping to her lap, her voice sharp with shame. Holly laughed. Not cruelly, just with that effortless amusement that made Samantha want to squirm more. And of course, squirming only made the crinkle crinkle crinkle worse. She shifted on the couch. The diaper flaared audibly under her. She blushed so hard it made her ears buzz. “Why did you put me in a diaper?” Holly tilted her head, smile still dancing at the corners of her mouth. “You practically begged for it, baby girl.” Samantha opened her mouth and then closed it. Then opened it again and stopped. She looked at Holly helplessly, searching for the right words, any words, and none came. Only heat, and pressure, and the faint sweet scent of baby powder rising from her thighs. Holly smirked. “Take your time. We’ve got all night.” She stood and padded back to the kitchen, the click of the fridge door and the fizz of two beers cracking open filling the air. When she returned, she handed one to Samantha, who took it gingerly with both hands like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to hold anything adult anymore. Holly sat beside her and said casually, “I thought about pouring it into one of those bottles you were so fascinated with. But maybe next time.” Samantha’s stomach fluttered hard. Then Holly added, offhand, “If you’re a good girl.” The words dropped like a stone in a lake. Samantha nearly choked on the beer as she sipped it. Her hands trembled slightly. Good girl. The phrase made something inside her twist, sweet and dangerous and unknown. She drank again, just to hide it. “The diaper’s... loud,” she said finally. “And thick. I have to waddle.” Holly chuckled into her bottle. “Of course it’s thick, silly. It has to be able to do its job.” Samantha shrank under the weight of that sentence. Her cheeks lit up. Her legs pressed closer, but the diaper refused to let them meet. She drank more of the beer, hoping it would dull the nerves coiling in her belly,but it only added to the growing tension in her bladder. The pressure was intense now. She fidgeted, her diaper crinkling with each movement, but Holly didn’t need to say anything. Her glance was enough, eyes sliding down, reading Samantha’s body like a chart, recognizing the subtle shifts. Samantha whimpered slightly. “I don’t know what I feel,” she said at last. “But I don’t like the diaper.” Holly’s smile faded. She shook her head slowly, like a disappointed teacher. “Sammy... you know what happens when you lie.” “I’m not lying,” Samantha said quickly, but the crack in her voice betrayed her. “Mmhm,” Holly hummed, setting down her beer and standing smoothly. “Then I guess you won’t mind going back to timeout for a bit. Since you clearly need more time to think.” “No Holly! I don’t want to go to timeout,” Samantha said, shrinking into the couch. But Holly had already taken her by the wrist again, standing her up with practiced ease. The crinkle of her diaper was deafening in the room as she was pulled to her feet. Her skirt barely covered anything now, just the top edge of the waistband, the foxes in full display. “If your naughty little butt doesn’t want to be in timeout,” Holly said, her tone syrupy and edged with steel, “maybe it’s time you stopped lying to me.” “I’m not!” Samantha started, but Holly was already walking her back to the corner. Her steps were hesitant, heavy, and the beer in her belly did not help. Every step made her bladder twinge harder, every foot closer to that wall another nail in her control. When they reached the corner again, Holly turned her and gently took both of Samantha’s wrists. She raised them up and placed her fingertips against the wall. “Touch your nose,” she said, “both hands. Just like that.” Samantha obeyed, trembling. “Good girl,” Holly said softly. Then came another pat on her thickly padded butt, firmer this time. “Stay like this. No fidgeting. No dropping your hands. If you move them? Timer starts over.” Samantha swallowed hard, her legs shaking. “H-Holly... I really have to pee,” she whispered, barely above a breath. Behind her, Holly’s voice drifted from the couch, sweet and smug. “You’re in a diaper, baby girl.” And just like that, Holly sat down, opened her beer again, and watched. While Samantha stood there in the corner, trembling, blushing, needing to pee more by the second, and knowing exactly what Holly expected her to do. Samantha stood trembling in the corner, nose to the wall, fingers pressed dutifully against it, toes straining forward, posture locked in enforced stillness. Her padded backside jutted out beneath her skirt, now nothing more than a crumpled veil barely concealing anything. Behind her, Holly lounged on the couch like a queen admiring the stillness of a captured moment, sipping her beer, eyes fixed on Samantha’s quivering form. The diaper made everything visible. Not just physically,though the thick pastel bulk bulged from beneath the hem like a balloon inflated with shame,but emotionally. Every twitch, every fidget, every little rock of the hips gave away Samantha’s growing desperation. Holly saw it in the way her thighs squeezed tighter, then looser, then tighter again. The soft padded wiggle of her bottom told a story her mouth refused to. And Holly loved every second of it. Samantha felt like she was crumbling. The pressure in her bladder was unbearable now, a steady, throbbing ache that made her knees knock, her fingers tremble. She tried not to move, tried to obey, but her body betrayed her with tiny, helpless motions—one heel lifting, then the other, her hips rocking back in a useless attempt to hold it all in. SMACK. She gasped. A firm hand landed square on her diapered butt, sending a wave of shock,and something else—up her spine. The padding softened the blow, sure, but the surprise of it made her jump, and in that instant of surrender, a hot, wet trickle escaped her. She whimpered. Hands still to the wall. Mortified. SMACK SMACK. Two more, quick and purposeful. The sudden swats, though still muted by the thickness of her diaper, shattered what control she had left. Her body gave out. Warmth surged between her thighs in an unstoppable flood. She moaned..... a soft and ashamed moan. Confused, as her bladder emptied into the waiting diaper, heat pooling, soaking, thickening. The padding swelled around her, growing heavier, puffier, impossibly more pronounced, and still it drank up everything. From behind her came Holly’s calm voice. “Quit fidgeting, hands back where they belong.” Samantha barely managed to adjust her hands, fingers brushing the wall again, heart pounding so hard she couldn’t hear anything else. Her face burned red hot. Her eyes welled up, though no tears fell. She was standing in a wet diaper. And it had absorbed everything. No leaking. No mess. Just... swollen warmth wrapped around her like a silent secret. Holly sat back down on the couch. Another sip of beer. Another long moment of watching Samantha writhe silently in the corner, the shame and heat settling deeper into her bones with each passing second. Ten minutes passed like that. Ten minutes of damp, squishy silence. And then Holly got up again. Samantha held her breath as she approached, body stiffening with dread. Holly crouched behind her with a slow, deliberate rustle of fabric and plastic, and then without asking her, fingers slipped under the edge of the diaper. A humiliating diaper check. “Hmm,” Holly said cheerfully, “You’re wet. But this one can hold a little more.” Samantha groaned, nearly collapsing in shame. But Holly just gave her another playful pat on the back of her diaper and guided her toward the couch. The diaper sagged heavily between her legs as she waddled. The squish was undeniable now, muffled with every step, and it took effort to sit. But Holly helped her down, and Samantha sank into the cushion with a loud, telltale crinkle. She couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay. That’s enough,” she snapped, squirming. “Let me out of this thing.” Holly looked over at her with the same amused glint she always wore when Samantha tried to reclaim even a shred of control. “I’ll change your diaper in a minute,” she said, tone light, teasing. “But only after you start telling the truth.” “I am—” “No,” Holly said, cutting her off with a single finger raised, “you’re not. You’re acting like a cranky little girl demanding a diaper change, but you’re not being honest.” Samantha’s shoulders slumped. She didn’t have the strength to fight anymore. The warmth between her thighs, the weight of the diaper, the way Holly looked at her, it all dissolved her will like sugar in hot tea. “I’m... I’m sorry for lying,” she said, barely above a whisper. Holly said nothing. Just waited. Samantha stared down at her knees. At the swollen, pastel foxes stretched tight across her diaper. “When I saw the diaper bag,” she said slowly, “and the diapers inside it... I—I immediately wondered what it would feel like. To wear one.” Holly’s smirk returned, soft and victorious. But she didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. Holly didn’t push. She didn’t tease, didn’t interrupt. She just waited, leaned back on the couch beside Samantha, beer balanced casually in one hand, that calm unreadable smile resting on her lips. Her silence pulled the rest of it out of Samantha like a tide dragging secrets to shore. Samantha swallowed, the wet bulk of her diaper squishing softly beneath her as she shifted. The warmth, the weight of it—it was still there, like a second skin that wouldn’t let her forget what she’d done. “I…” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “When I was going through the diaper bag…” Even saying diaper made her flinch. The word burned like embarrassment held too long in the mouth. “…I found the bottle,” she continued. “And the pacifier.” Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. “And I........I wondered what it’d be like. To use them.” Holly just smiled, didn’t say a word. Samantha went on. “And then I saw the… the hairbrush.” Her breath hitched at the memory. “I knew it wasn’t for hair,” she confessed, voice trembling but honest. “It frightened me. But it also… thrilled me. I didn’t want it to, but it did.” Holly turned her head slowly, that teasing grin curling again. “And how would a good little girl like you know what a spanking brush looks like?” Samantha’s eyes widened. Her face flared so red it looked sunburnt. She didn’t answer. Just stared at the floor, lips parting, then shutting, then parting again. But she couldn’t say it. So she kept going instead. “I couldn’t help myself,” she whispered. “I kept looking. That’s when I found the handcuffs.” Holly raised a brow. “Mmm. And what did you think about those, little miss curious?” Samantha’s voice went even softer. “I wondered… what they’d feel like. On me.” The moment hung in the air like fog. Thick. Charged. And then Holly stood, set her beer down, and leaned in wrapping Samantha in a warm, lingering hug that pressed her cheek to her shoulder. Samantha froze at first, overwhelmed, then slowly relaxed into the softness of it. She smelled powder, her own shame, and that faint hint of Holly’s skin. “You’re such a good girl for telling the truth,” Holly murmured, brushing a hand through her hair. “Shame you had to spend so long in timeout to get there.” Then she sat back down, picked up her beer, and took another sip, completely calm again. Samantha sat there, stunned. The diaper shifted with her every movement, an ever-present reminder of just how far things had gone. “Are you going to leave me in this?” she asked at last, squirming. Her voice was hesitant, fragile, colored with surprise that she even had the nerve to ask. Holly didn’t even look up. “I’ll change you,” she said lazily, “when I finish my beer.” She gestured toward Samantha’s bottle. “Drink up, baby girl.” The words landed like weights. Samantha took her beer, held it in both hands like she didn’t trust herself, and sipped slowly. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Each minute passed with the thick, swollen diaper pressing between her thighs. Every crinkle, every squish, reminded her of her place. The warmth wasn’t unpleasant, exactly. It had stopped being gross a while ago—it was just real. And the heaviness made her feel small, grounded, like she’d been wrapped in something that didn’t let her float away from her thoughts anymore. Holly stood eventually, brushing the front of her shorts. She stretched—arms over her head, back arching—then looked down at Samantha with that same soft mischief in her eyes. “So,” she said casually, “would you like your diaper changed? Or do you want to go back to your big girl clothes?” Samantha opened her mouth, then closed it. Everything had caught up to her now. The corner. The wetting. The touch of the tapes against her skin. Her head spun, not from alcohol but from being seen. Not judged. Just… known. “I want my big girl clothes back,” she said finally, voice quiet. Holly nodded, starting to turn. But Samantha wasn’t done. “And…” she said quickly, then stopped herself. Her chest rose and fell. She bit her lip. Looked up at Holly, suddenly vulnerable again. “Can you…” she exhaled, eyes lowering to the crinkling swell around her hips. “Can you… diaper me again? Another time?” Holly turned slowly, and the smile that bloomed across her face was gentle, knowing, radiant. She leaned down, tucked a finger beneath Samantha’s chin, and said sweetly: “I’ll think about it.” Chapter 4 Two weeks. Fourteen long, over-analyzed, heartbeat-counting, torturously ordinary days. Samantha had memorized every hour of them. The way nothing had changed, and yet everything had. Since that night—the night, when Holly had stripped her of her words, her adult pride, her clothes, and had taped a thick diaper around her hips like it was the most normal thing in the world. However, Samantha’s world had felt off-axis. They hadn't spoken of it again. Not directly. Holly had returned to her normal rhythm: classes, study groups, late-night coding sprawled across her bed with her laptop balanced on her knees. Samantha had hoped....assumed........there would be another conversation, a teasing jab, something. But Holly had given her nothing. Nothing except the torment of waiting. And the worst part? Samantha had started looking for signs. Like a junkie waiting for a hit, she watched Holly like a hawk every time she came home. She kept peeking near the door, under the coat rack, even near Holly’s laundry pile just to see, maybecatch a glimpse of that mint green gingham bag. Something. Anything. But the diaper bag hadn’t surfaced once. By Friday, she was practically vibrating from the tension of it all. She’d spent the whole day studying, which meant pretending to read the same three pages over and over while fighting the itch in her brain that had become Holly shaped. The living room was too quiet. Afternoon sun angled through the blinds in soft golden stripes, and the air carried the faint scent of old coffee and the lemon cleaner Holly liked. And then, the door opened. Holly walked in like she always did, long strides, relaxed posture, that lazy confidence trailing behind her like incense. She wore her usual Friday getup: jean shorts, a vintage tee knotted at the waist, and her backpack slung over one shoulder. She dropped it by the door without ceremony. No diaper bag. Samantha’s eyes zeroed in on the empty space beside it. Her gut twisted. Holly caught it. Of course she did. She didn’t say anything, didn’t smirk yet. Just walked to the fridge, opened it, bent down, the hem of her shorts riding up just enough to make Samantha want to squirm and pulled out a can of sparkling water. She popped the tab with a hiss and took a long sip, her eyes flicking toward Samantha as she leaned casually against the counter. Then she moved to the couch, sat beside her with her legs tucked under her, and looked at her roommate like a cat watching a caged bird peck at its own reflection. “How’s the studying going?” she asked, tone light. “Fine,” Samantha muttered, eyes back on her book, though the words were a blur of abstract math. Holly tilted her head, feigning a frown. “Why’s someone being so grumpy?” “I’m not,” Samantha shot back too quickly. “Ohhh,” Holly said, drawing the word out like warm taffy, “sounds like someone’s a little Grumpy Gills.” That line,the voice, the cadence,Dory from Finding Nemo, the singsong condescension, it all set something off in Samantha’s gut. Her whole body bristled. “I’m not being fucking grumpy,” she snapped. Holly’s eyebrows lifted. “Oof,” she said, half-laughing, but her voice gained a different tone. It was firmer, more commanding, wrapped in velour but edged in steel. “Grumpy and naughty?” The words struck a chord so deep in Samantha’s chest she felt it pulse between her legs. She looked at Holly, really looked. The casual posture, the amused eyes, the way her fingers wrapped around the can of water like she was holding the leash and waiting for the dog to realize it had nowhere to run. And Samantha remembered. The corner. The diaper. The wetting. She swallowed hard. Holly tilted her head again, slower this time. “Sounds like someone needs a nap,” she said in that infuriatingly sweet voice that made Samantha want to scream. “I don’t need a nap,” Samantha said, closing her book a little too fast and tossing it onto the coffee table. “I’m not a child.” Holly laughed. Really laughed. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said, brushing a curl from her face like it was the easiest thing in the world, “I seem to remember a certain naughty little girl who had to stand in the corner. Twice.” Samantha looked away. Her chest flushed, and her hands curled into fists. Holly wasn’t done. “And if memory serves…” Her grin stretched wider. “That same naughty girl couldn’t keep her diaper dry while she was there.” Samantha’s breath caught in her throat. Her skin went electric. Holly took another sip, watching her. “Yep,” she said cheerfully, “definitely needs a nap. Grumpy little ones always do.” “I’m not” Samantha blurted, then caught herself. She shook her head. “I don’t want a nap. I’m not going to take a nap.” Holly turned to her fully now, setting the can down on the table with a delicate clink. “Oh, baby girl,” she said, voice warm with mock pity and amusement all rolled into one as she leaned in just enough to make Samantha feel like a deer caught in headlights. “I think you will.” Samantha’s pulse picked up the moment Holly leaned in and spoke those seven devastating words. “I think you will,” Holly had said, like it was already decided, her voice that same syrupy mix of smug authority and faux concern that had left Samantha speechless more than once. But this time? This time her whole body tensed with the knowledge that Holly wasn’t bluffing. She could see it in her eyes, the shift, subtle but final. Holly wasn’t teasing anymore. She was handling. Samantha’s mouth opened in protest. “Holly, please,” she said, her voice trembling, not with fear but something tangled and confused, an odd mix of dread and anticipation. “Don’t make me take a nap. I’m not......I don’t want to. I’m not even tired.” Holly stood, smooth and graceful, like she’d done this before. She reached out and took Samantha gently by the arm, her grip light but firm. This was the kind of grip that didn’t pull, didn’t drag, but guided with quiet command. Samantha stood reluctantly, her body moving before her brain could argue. “Come on,” Holly said, her voice soothing. “You’re just going to lie down for a bit, baby girl. One hour. If you’re a good girl, I’ll come get you.” Samantha’s stomach did a flip at the phrase good girl, and she hated how her skin warmed instantly at the sound of it. She tried to resist, just a little. A slow dig of her heels. A slight stiffening in her arm. That was all it took. SMACK. A hard, open-palm swat landed square on her butt, not a warning tap this time but a spank. The padding of her jeans didn’t soften it much. The sound cracked in the air like a firework, and Samantha jumped, yelping softly. “Ah—!” Holly didn’t pause. Her grip tightened slightly as she walked Samantha down the hallway, voice sharpening just enough to make her breath catch. “If you make a fuss about naptime,” she said coolly, “then someone might just find herself grounded tonight.” Samantha blinked, confused, stammering. “Wait, what the fuck does that mean?” SMACK. Another spank, this one harder. More deliberate. Samantha gasped. Her face flared with heat. The burn from Holly’s palm lingered through her jeans and shot a jolt straight down her spine. “Language,” Holly said firmly. “You do not speak to me like that, little girl.” Samantha’s knees buckled slightly at the words. “‘Grounded’ means no going out tonight. No phone. No screen time. You’ll stay home, and I might even decide bedtime comes early.” Samantha opened her mouth to argue, but Holly cut in, her tone even sharper. “And if that little mouth of yours doesn’t clean itself up, I might have to wash it out with soap.” That shut Samantha up. Her breath came quick and shallow now, not just from the escalating tension, but from something she couldn’t name,something pulling her down into the exact place Holly clearly wanted her: off-balance, blushing, compliant. They reached her bedroom. Holly didn’t wait. She turned, and with that same infuriating calm, she reached for Samantha’s waistband and began to unbutton her jeans. Samantha jolted. “Wait! What are you doing?” “You can’t nap in these,” Holly said smoothly, as if it were obvious. “Too stiff. Too uncomfortable. You need to relax.” “But I—” Samantha started to protest again, but Holly was already working the jeans down her hips. She wasn’t rough. She didn’t yank. But she moved with the quiet certainty of someone who wasn’t asking permission. In seconds, Samantha stood there in just her t-shirt and underwear, arms crossed awkwardly over her chest, eyes darting to the side. Holly didn’t mock her. She just stepped over to the bed, pulled back the covers with a rustle, and patted the mattress like she was coaxing a sleepy toddler onto it. “Hop in,” she said, smiling. Samantha hesitated. Every cell in her body screamed don’t do this, but her feet betrayed her. She climbed into the bed, cheeks burning, crawling under the covers like she was five years old again. Holly tucked the blanket around her with shocking tenderness, then leaned in and brushed her hair off her forehead. And kissed her. Just a soft kiss, pressed to her brow, featherlight. “I’ll come get you when your nap is over,” Holly whispered. “That is, if you’re a good girl and stay in bed.” Samantha stared up at her, heart pounding. “What if I—?” “Nope,” Holly said, cutting her off. “No getting out of bed. Not for any reason. You move, you get up, you break the rules?” She smiled. “We’ll deal with that when it happens.” And then Holly turned. She walked out with the same graceful calm she always had, pausing at the door. She looked back once, her eyes twinkling. And then she closed the door behind her. Warmth. That was the first thing Samantha felt. Something soft, hazy warmth that wrapped her like a blanket before the rest of the world returned. Her limbs were heavy, the mattress clinging to her like it didn’t want to let go. Then she felt fingers, light and slow, brushing gently through her hair. She stirred, a quiet sigh slipping from her lips as the soft voice followed. “Time to wake up, sleepyhead.” Holly’s tone was low, sweet, almost sing-song. Samantha groaned softly and rolled onto her side, trying to burrow deeper into the covers. But the strokes to her hair became a gentle touch down her back, coaxing. “Nap time’s over,” Holly said again, chuckling softly. “You sure blew past your time limit for someone who definitely didn’t need a nap, hmm?” Samantha blinked her eyes open, slowly rolling onto her back. Her lashes fluttered, and she mumbled, “How long did I sleep?” “Two hours,” Holly said, standing up beside the bed and stretching slightly. “Guess you needed it more than you thought.” Samantha sat up with a dazed blink, rubbing her eyes. “No way…” “Mhm,” Holly confirmed. “Come on, sleepy girl. Brush your teeth, then meet me in the living room. We’ll figure out what we’re doing tonight.” Still not fully in command of her thoughts, Samantha slipped from the bed in nothing but her oversized T-shirt and underwear, padding barefoot into the bathroom without protest. She moved through the routine with autopilot grace..... toothbrush, toothpaste, water, a soft hum of bristles. And then Holly’s voice floated down the hallway, chipper and far too amused. “Do you need to go potty while you’re in there?” Samantha froze, mid-brush. Her eyes went wide in the mirror. Foam gathered at the corner of her mouth as her cheeks flushed deep red. “I do not need to go potty,” she snapped around the toothbrush, trying for indignation but muffled by bristles and bubbles. There was a pause. And then Holly’s voice again, laced with laughter: “Okay, okay.” When Samantha finally returned to the living room, Holly looked up from her phone and smiled warmly. “Good girl,” she said easily, “for taking your nap without any fuss.” Samantha’s lips twitched. She said nothing, but her eyes rolled with exaggerated annoyance even though deep down, buried under the layers of her pride and confusion, something in her chest fluttered at the words. Good girl. It echoed in her head like a bell, making her heart beat faster than it should’ve. “Anyway,” Holly continued, sitting up straighter, “you’re staying in tonight.” Samantha raised a brow but didn’t protest. “I was thinking,” Holly went on, “we could hang out, maybe order some takeout, watch a movie, just have a chill night. Sound good?” Samantha smiled for real now. “Yeah, actually. That sounds nice.” “I thought you’d like that.” And then— asual as anything, like she was suggesting socks over slippers Holly dropped it. “Since we’re not going anywhere, I’m just gonna go ahead and put you in your pajamas now.” Samantha blinked. She turned her head toward Holly slowly, confusion spreading across her face like ink in water. “…Wait, what?” Without a pause, Holly turned on her heel and started walking, not to Samantha’s room, as expected, but toward her own. Samantha blinked in confusion and followed. Her steps slowed as she realized where they were going, but she didn’t protest. Something inside her told her not to. Not yet. Holly’s bedroom door creaked open and in they went. The lighting was soft, the bed perfectly made, and everything smelled faintly of lavender and citrus,Holly’s signature scent. Before Samantha could process the shift, Holly turned to her and, with the same nonchalant authority she’d used countless times before, reached for the hem of Samantha’s shirt. “Arms up.” Samantha hesitated only a second before obeying, cheeks already warm. Holly lifted the shirt over her head and tugged it free, leaving her standing there in nothing but her underwear, arms folded over her chest like a nervous child. But Holly didn’t even blink as she was already moving toward her closet. And that’s when Samantha saw it. The diaper bag. Tucked neatly on the top shelf, the same mint gingham, the same ridiculous nostalgia. Her eyes went wide. Holly casually unzipped it and rummaged through its contents, her fingers moving with ease, familiarity. Then she pulled it out. A diaper. Not just any diaper but a monster of a diaper. Bigger, puffier, louder looking than anything Samantha had seen before. Its thick white body was patterned with barnyard animals, smiling cows and chickens, the logo Mega Barnyard stretched across the front. Holly also pulled out a fresh container of wipes and the same pink capped baby powder from before. “Okay,” Holly said, turning to face her. “Lay down on the bed.” Samantha froze. Just for a second. But the look Holly gave her, one brow raised, that patient, dominant stillness, broke through her momentary resistance like glass under a boot. “Quit playing games and get on the bed.” Samantha moved. She crawled onto the bed, heart hammering in her chest, and lay back with her eyes toward the ceiling. She heard Holly step closer. Felt fingers at the waistband of her underwear. Then the tug. The slide. They came off in one smooth pull and were set aside like they were nothing. Samantha’s thighs clenched reflexively. She couldn’t help but gasp when Holly unfolded the Mega Barnyard diaper. The crinkle of it sounded enormous, like plastic echoing in a cathedral. Holly fluffed it expertly, shaking it once to puff it up even more before slipping it beneath Samantha’s hips. “Lift up,” she said simply. Samantha did. The diaper slid under her, wide and padded and humiliatingly secure. Holly settled it beneath her, then reached for the powder. She applied it liberally, cool and soft against heated skin, dusting her inner thighs and across her mound. Samantha’s breath hitched. Holly didn’t rush. She folded the diaper up between Samantha’s legs, gently pressing it to her stomach, sealing her in with practiced care. The tapes followed—one, two, three, four, each one pulling snug, each one declaring the same thing: you’re not in charge here. Then Holly leaned down, her voice warm but firm. “Since you can’t be trusted to use the potty—even when I ask, I don’t really have much choice, do I?” she said. “Until I can trust you again, this is how it’s going to be.” Samantha said nothing. She couldn’t. She lay there in stunned silence, the thick diaper wrapped around her, her body tingling with a thousand unnameable feelings. Holly turned and went back to her closet. When she returned, she was holding something folded in her arms. A one-piece pajama sleeper, soft pink with white stars on the fabric and cuffs at the wrists and ankles. “What… what is that?” Samantha asked, her voice hushed. Holly laughed. “Pajamas, silly.” She unzipped the back, a long pull from the base of the neck to the lower back. “Come on. Stand up.” Samantha obeyed, legs awkward with the new bulk between them. The sleeper was pulled over her head, arms guided into sleeves, legs into legs. Holly zipped it up slowly, carefully. Samantha didn’t notice anything until she heard a a subtle snap that made the zipper vanish under a flap of fabric. And with that, she was sealed in. No way out. Not without Holly. Samantha barely had time to process it before Holly gave her a few soft pats on the diaper’s rear......pat pat pat, each a reminder of how thickly padded she was. “I’m going to watch some TV,” Holly said, turning away. “I’ll order food in a bit. Be good.” Samantha stood there for a moment, stunned, before waddling, actually waddling, into the bathroom. She closed the door and looked into the mirror. The sleeper hugged her body in all the wrong ways. The diaper forced her legs apart, bulging through the leg cuffs, rounding her hips and puffing her bottom so much it was comical. The thick plastic rustled with every step. She looked like an overgrown toddler in adult-sized footie pajamas, something for children or toddlers, not something real, not something she should be in. But she was. And seeing herself like this, seemingly trapped in the soft fabric, sealed in a diaper she couldn’t escape, made something inside her ache and hum. Humiliation. Heat. A dark, strange pleasure. She stood there, staring at herself in the mirror, cheeks flushed, heart pounding, not knowing if she wanted to cry or curl up or… or something else entirely. All she knew was that she was humiliated. And, despite herself, maybe because of herself, she liked it. Chapter 5 The bathroom door creaked softly as Samantha stepped out, the heavy warmth of the sleeper clinging to her body like velvet. She waddled, there was no other word for it,down the hallway, each thick step muffled by the plush carpet and underscored by the soft, plasticky crinkle crinkle crinkle that followed her like a shadow. She stepped into the living room. Holly was already sprawled on the couch, legs tucked up, sparkling water in hand, watching some half-awful reality dating show where the contestants were clearly either paid actors or had lost a bet. She didn’t look up immediately......didn’t have to. Samantha’s approach announced itself in sound and shame. Still, Holly smiled when she glanced over. “There’s my little star.” Samantha sank down beside her, the diaper squishing out under her weight, the unmistakable noise practically echoing off the walls. The sleeper strained gently at her shoulders as she settled in, the back zip tugging slightly against her movement. She tried not to think about it. She tried harder not to think about how good it felt to be sitting here beside Holly. Warm. Not fighting. Just… being. The show played on, two women arguing over a guy with teeth too white to be real. Samantha found herself getting sucked in, mind drifting from her diapered state for a moment. Then Holly stood. “I got something for us,” she said over her shoulder as she walked to the kitchen. She opened the fridge, pulled out two beers, popped the caps with a practiced flick of the wrist. One went into a frosty pint glass. The other? Into a big pastel adult-sized sippy cup. Pink, with tiny clouds and stars dancing across the lid. Samantha’s jaw dropped as Holly approached and handed it to her with a straight face. “Really?” Holly smiled sweetly. “Don’t want you spilling on my couch, now do I?” Then she raised her own glass and tapped it lightly against the sippy cup. “Cheers.” Samantha, mortified, took a sip from the soft mouthpiece. It wasn’t bad, she had to admit. It was cold and bubbly and exactly what she needed to settle her nerves. The show continued, more drama unfolding on screen. And still, the diaper never let her forget. With every shift of her legs, every lean or laugh, it crinkled, loud and unrelenting, and Holly’s occasional sidelong glances only deepened Samantha’s squirming. She tried to sit still. Couldn’t. It was like her body was rebelling. By the time the final rose ceremony of the episode began, Samantha had finished her beer, the sippy cup resting empty on the end table. Holly drained her own glass, stood up with both, and walked to the kitchen. Samantha leaned her head back against the couch cushion, relaxed for a split second until Holly called over her shoulder, “I’m just refilling yours. I’ll be right back. I’ve got to grab the pizza.” Samantha sat bolt upright. “Wait! You’re leaving me like this?” Holly came back just long enough to bend down in front of her, both hands resting gently on Samantha’s knees. Her voice softened, almost affectionate. “I trust you to be a good little girl while I’m gone,” she said, smoothing a hand up Samantha’s thigh. “No trouble, no touching, no unzipping. Just stay on the couch and be good.” Her smile widened slightly. “Because if there is any trouble… if I come home and find you’ve been naughty…” She leaned closer, her mouth brushing Samantha’s ear. “I will give you a spanking you won’t forget.” Samantha gulped. Her skin prickled. “I.....I won’t,” she said quickly. “I promise. I’ll be good.” Holly leaned back, amused. “Good to hear.” She stepped back, picked up her purse from the hook, and glanced toward the front door. “But,” she added suddenly, “if you don’t trust yourself to behave, I could always go next door and get Mrs. Keller to come over and keep you company.” Samantha’s eyes went wide. “No!” she blurted. “I—I’ll behave. I promise. Please don’t…” Holly’s smirk was devilish. “That’s what I thought.” She slung her purse over her shoulder, gave Samantha one last pat on her diapered bottom, and walked out, closing the door behind her. Silence settled in. The TV played on in the background. And Samantha sat there on the couch, stiff, blinking, her pulse thudding in her ears. Her legs shifted again. The crinkle echoed. Her diaper was swollen with padding, her sleeper snug, her dignity clinging by a thread. She sighed. And then it hit her.........hard. Her bladder. She shifted in place again, frowning slightly, hand reflexively moving to her stomach. All that beer… Her mind raced back to Holly’s voice, teasing and light. Do you need to go potty while you're in there? She’d said no. Of course she had. Because she was still trying to pretend. Now, sitting there, in pajamas with a zipper she could not reach, trapped in a diaper thicker than anything she'd ever imagined, Samantha groaned quietly and let her head fall back. “Oh god,” she muttered under her breath, “why didn’t I go when I had the chance…” And she cursed herself for drinking the beer. Fifteen minutes. It felt like an eternity compressed into a single, desperate thought: Don't pee. Don't pee. Don’t. Samantha sat on the couch, squirming in the thick embrace of the Mega Barnyard diaper beneath the pastel sleeper, every slight shift releasing a chorus of humiliating crinkles into the quiet living room. Her legs pressed tightly together, crossed like a vice, but it did nothing. The pressure in her bladder was rising like a tide, constant and unrelenting, until even breathing too deeply seemed to make it worse. She bit her lip. The worst part wasn’t even the urgency, it was the knowledge that she couldn’t do anything about it. That helplessness, thick and soft and taped around her hips, wrapped in a one-piece sleeper zipped up safe and secure was starting to gnaw at her. Not just physically, but mentally. She stood with a groan and twisted her body around, reaching behind her back, fingers stretching desperately toward the zipper. She could feel the fabric strain, her muscles flexing, but no matter how she bent or contorted, she couldn’t reach it. Her fingers brushed uselessly at the upper back of the sleeper, nowhere near the actual closure. Frustrated, she waddled to the bathroom, hoping the mirror might help. She turned around, looking over her shoulder. What she saw made her stomach drop. The zipper was gone, completely hidden beneath a wide flap stitched seamlessly into the fabric, sealed by two thick black snaps. The message was clear: she wasn’t getting out of this unless Holly wanted her out. And if she was being honest with herself, that realization was half of what made her bladder threaten to give in right then and there. She shuffled back into the living room, cheeks burning, her waddle even more pronounced. She tried to sit, to act normal, tucking her legs up awkwardly and squeezing tight again, willing the pressure away. It wasn’t working. Five minutes later, the front door opened, and in walked Holly, smiling as casually as if she’d just come back from a jog instead of leaving her roommate trapped in a diapered onesie like a misbehaving toddler. She placed the pizza box on the kitchen counter, tossing her keys in the bowl, and turned toward the couch. “How’s my good little girl doing?” Samantha flinched at the words. But somehow, impossibly, they triggered something deeper, familiar, and instinctive. The words good girl slipped under her skin, making her mouth move before she could second guess it. “I was,” she said quietly, “a good girl.” Holly beamed. She sauntered over and knelt next to the couch. “Let’s find out.” Samantha’s heart jumped as Holly’s hand slipped around her thigh and pressed against the front of the diaper, squeezing gently, then patting. The check was methodical like she’d done this before. She had. Samantha felt her cheeks blaze as she stared forward, her entire body tensing with shame. “Awwww,” Holly cooed. “Still dry! You are a good girl, huh?” Then came the tickling. Two hands, suddenly under her arms, fingers dancing along her sides, over the fabric of the sleeper. Samantha shrieked, laughing helplessly as she squirmed, trying to twist away but there was nowhere to go. “Tickle tickle tickle,” Holly sang in full on baby talk. “Who’s a dry little diaperbutt? You are! Who’s my big girl in her clean diapee?” Samantha howled, thrashing And then she gasped. The laughter stopped mid breath as warmth bloomed between her legs. “Oh no oh my god!” The flood started slowly, just a trickle, but the moment she tensed, trying to stop it, it broke loose completely. The diaper drank it in greedily, swelling, the padding expanding even more around her hips as her control slipped through her fingers like sand. Holly froze, then burst into laughter. “Oh my god I literally spoke too soon!” she giggled, standing and ruffling Samantha’s hair like she’d just spilled juice, not just humiliated herself completely. “My big girl couldn’t hold it!” Samantha was mortified. Holly, meanwhile, was already turning toward the kitchen. “Just sit tight, puddles. I’ll get us some plates.” Samantha sat there, lips parted, heart pounding, legs spread slightly from the thick, wet mass between her thighs. She could feel the diaper cling tighter now, the weight undeniable, impossible to ignore. The onesie made sure of that. She tried to breathe. Tried to stay still. Tried not to cry or smile or moan or think. Holly came back in a minute later, carrying two plates stacked with slices, a fresh napkin tucked under her arm. She sat back down beside Samantha and placed one of the plates in her lap like she was feeding a child. Then she leaned back, grabbed the remote, and said with an easy grin: “Alright. What do you want to watch, little one?” Samantha sat still, frozen in the wreckage of her dignity. The diaper was heavy now, swollen and thick between her thighs, forcing them apart even as she tried to pretend it wasn’t there. But there was no wetness against her skin, no leaking, nothing to remind her of the humiliating loss of control except the pressure of the padding itself, which had only grown more suffocating, more present. She couldn’t ignore it anymore than she could ignore her own breathing. It was part of her now. And Holly… Holly didn’t seem the least bit concerned. Samantha was lost in her thoughts, trying to process how her night had spiraled so far beyond her expectations, when a soft tap landed right on her nose. She blinked and looked up into Holly’s grinning face. “I asked what you want to watch, silly girl.” Samantha lowered her gaze again. Her voice, small and tight. “Anything’s fine. You pick.” “Okay,” Holly said breezily, already reaching for the remote. She queued up another episode of the dating show, more over-tanned twenty-somethings, more fake tension, more wine-fueled drama. Samantha tried to focus. She chewed her pizza slowly, tried to watch the screen, but the swollen mass taped between her legs made every position feel awkward. She shifted constantly, the diaper crinkling with each motion, drawing her attention back to herself again and again. Holly didn’t seem to care. She was laughing at the show, sipping her beer, completely at ease. And Samantha felt… trapped. During the first commercial break, she found her courage. “How long are you going to keep me in this?” she asked, voice hushed but pointed, poking at the diaper’s edge with the side of her hand. Holly didn’t even look at her at first. She just reached over casually, as if checking the weather, and pressed two fingers into the thick padding between Samantha’s legs. Gave it a gentle squeeze. “You barely even wet it,” she said lightly, eyes still on the TV. “That’s a nighttime diaper, Sammy. It’s made to hold a lot.” Samantha’s stomach dropped. She had expected something like that, but hearing it out loud made it worse. She scowled. “Aren’t you supposed to change it immediately after it’s wet?” Holly laughed. A real, belly-deep laugh that made Samantha’s ears burn. “No, honey,” she said, turning to her. “You’re in a super thick diaper with a ton of baby powder. I checked it. You’re not gonna get a rash.” Samantha pouted. But Holly wasn’t done. “That diaper will be just fine for a few more wettings, trust me.” She leaned back into the couch and added with a smirk, “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?” Before Samantha could respond, Holly reached into her hoodie pocket and pulled something out. A pacifier. She didn’t give Samantha time to protest. Just reached over and popped it right into her mouth, a single smooth motion like she'd done it a hundred times before. Then she tugged gently on Samantha’s arm, guiding her down until she was curled in Holly’s lap. Holly’s arms came around her, one hand settling on the curve of her diapered rear. She began to pat softly, thump, thump, thump, a steady rhythm. The kind of motion you’d use to soothe a sleepy baby. Samantha wanted to get mad. She wanted to bite out a sarcastic comment, push the pacifier away, remind Holly she was twenty-two, not two. But her body had other ideas. The slow, rhythmic pats. The warm beer fuzzing in her veins. The soft suckling of the pacifier,her lips had instinctively accepted it and the thick mind-numbing padding hugging her hips… It was all too much. She melted. Fully relaxed, head on Holly’s chest, eyelids fluttering. Her body had stopped fighting. Holly reached for the sippy cup with her free hand and brought it to Samantha’s mouth. She tilted it slightly, letting a sip of the chilled beer trickle into her lips past the pacifier. Samantha drank lazily, her cheeks flushing as she suckled from the babyish spout. “Good girl,” Holly whispered, as the next scene of the show lit up the screen, and she gave her another soft pat. Then another. And another. Samantha had never felt anything like this. Not in her twenty two years, not in childhood, not in dreams. The warmth of Holly’s arms around her, the slow, steady rhythm of soft pats against her thickly padded butt, the soft suckling on the pacifier gently bobbing between her lips every sensation swirled into something that shouldn't have been relaxing but somehow was. It was blissful. Exhilarating in the way roller coasters were exhilarating terrifying, impossible, and yet so right once you let go. And Samantha had let go. Literally. Samantha didn’t know exactly when it started. An hour had passed, maybe more since they curled together on the couch, lost in the glow of terrible reality TV. And somewhere in that stretch of time, as her head rested against Holly’s chest and the rhythm of the pacifier matched the rhythm of the show, her body had just… relaxed. The warning signals never flared. The tension in her bladder hadn’t risen to a breaking point. She’d just suddenly felt it: warmth blooming between her thighs, slowly and steadily, the thick padding swelling further to absorb it all without complaint. Her diaper didn’t leak, didn’t even squish much beneath her. It just took everything. And Holly’s hand kept patting her. Gently. Comfortably. As if nothing had changed. Samantha sat up sharply, her breath catching. She pulled the pacifier from her mouth, fingers trembling, her face flushed with something deeper than embarrassment........shock. “Holly,” she whispered. “I just… I just had an accident.” Holly didn’t look away from the screen. “Okay,” she said lazily. “You’re not getting changed until bedtime, remember?” “No,” Samantha said, a little more forcefully, turning fully toward her. “You don’t understand. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even notice it was happening until I was already doing it.” That got Holly’s attention. She turned her head, slow and calm, her eyes meeting Samantha’s, then she laughed. A light, breezy sound, like Samantha had told her she forgot to wash her cup. “Well,” Holly said with a shrug, “good thing you’re wearing a diaper.” Samantha’s heart dropped. She stared at Holly in disbelief, the weight of her accident and the weight of Holly’s total nonchalance colliding inside her like sparks in dry grass. “Let me out of it,” she snapped. “Let me out of this now.” Holly didn’t respond. She just turned back to the show, unbothered. That was it. Something inside Samantha snapped. “PAY ATTENTION TO ME DAMNIT!” she shouted, fists clenched, her voice pitched high, trembling with a mix of rage and panic and shame. The moment the words left her mouth, she knew. She knew. Holly paused the show with a quiet click. The screen froze on a contestant mid sob. Then she turned. Slowly. Her face no longer wore its usual teasing smile. Her voice dropped—calm, low, and laced with steel. “What did you just say to me?” Samantha’s mouth opened, but the words caught in her throat. Holly stood up. “You wanted to be in a diaper,” she said, her tone quiet and sharp. “You asked for it.” Samantha shook her head weakly. “I didn’t mean—” “And you know what?” Holly interrupted. “Little girls in diapers do not get to yell at adults. Ever.” Her eyes narrowed, and for the first time, Samantha felt small. Not in the cute, safe, swaddled kind of way. In the you are in trouble kind of way. Holly pointed toward the wall next to the entryway. “Go stand in the corner. Right now.” Samantha stared at her. “Now, Samantha. And you do not come out until I say so.” Samantha froze. Every nerve screamed at her to move, to obey, but her legs wouldn’t cooperate. She stood trembling at the edge of the couch, glaring at the corner, willing it to vanish. Her pride clung tight, even as dread pulled her down like an undertow. She knew she was in trouble. Knew what Holly had said. But something about choosing to go to that corner, waddling there in her swollen diaper like a scolded toddler, felt impossible. Holly, still eerily calm, met her eyes. “You have five seconds to get up and go to that corner, or I’m giving you a spanking,” she said, her tone like iron wrapped in silk. “And after the spanking, you’re still going to the corner.” Samantha’s chest tightened. Her mind scrambled. Every route she imagined ended the same way: her, standing nose-to-wall, humiliated—and in most of those versions, her butt stung. She hesitated. Just a moment too long. From the couch, she heard Holly sigh. “Well,” Holly said, her voice light but firm, “spanking it is.” That broke her. “Wait!” Samantha cried out, the word sharp with panic. “I’ll go........I’ll go to the corner!” But it was too late. Holly reached down and took Samantha’s arm, not hard but with undeniable authority. Before Samantha could make sense of what was happening, she was draped across Holly’s lap, her face toward the floor, her padded rear raised high in the air. “Wait—Holly—what—” She felt her body tense, pressed against the warmth of Holly’s thighs. Her diapered bottom perched perfectly over Holly’s lap, exposed, helpless, and trembling. She heard the fait pop of snaps being undone. Holly murmured something under her breath and gently pulled the flap open at the back of the sleeper. Then came the zipper, slow and deliberate, running down her spine. Samantha swallowed hard, heart pounding so fast it felt like a drumbeat against her ribs. The onesie parted open. And then the worst part. The tapes of the diaper rustled loudly as Holly peeled them free. The cool air hit her bare cheeks. The shame of it all, a full-grown woman, laid bare across her roommate’s lap, waiting for punishment like a naughty little girl seared into her like fire. And then it began. Smack. The first spank landed solid and sharp. Samantha gasped, jerking against Holly’s grip. Smack. Smack. Smack. Four. Five. Six. Tears stung her eyes as the heat bloomed across her cheeks, each strike building upon the last. Holly didn’t pause, didn’t lecture just delivered each swat with unwavering rhythm and firm conviction. By the seventh, Samantha was crying. “Please!” she whimpered. “Please, I’m sorry! I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be good!” Smack. “Are you going to listen next time?” Holly asked, her voice even. “Yes! Yes!” Smack. Smack. Smack. Three more. Each one sharper, each one scorching. And then it stopped. Holly’s hand rested gently on her back for a moment before she spoke. “Corner. Now.” Samantha didn’t argue. She sniffled, tears streaking her cheeks, and shuffled to her feet, her opened onesie hanging around her knees, her thick diaper sagging loose at the bottom of her legs, still half-attached, swinging with every awkward, waddled step. She didn’t even bother pulling it up. She just waddled.......exposed, punished, and sobbing—to the corner. The next thirty minutes stretched on endlessly. Samantha stood trembling in the corner, arms limp at her sides, her nose inches from the wall. Her face burned almost as hot as the skin on her bare, freshly spanked bottom, still glowing red and aching from every one of Holly’s deliberate, punishing spanks. Her onesie and diaper sat bunched around her ankles like discarded pride, every shifting breath, every twitch of her legs reminding her of just how exposed she was. Her mind raced. Was Holly still angry? Was this it? Would she forgive her? Was she about to be punished again? That uncertainty, paired with the raw sting still pulsing with each heartbeat, left her adrift in her own spiraling thoughts. The corner became a mirror. Every second she stood there, she replayed what she’d done. The yelling. The refusal. The tantrum. She felt small. Regretful. Ashamed. And very alone. Then....finally..........she heard footsteps behind her. Soft. Steady. She didn’t dare move. Without a word, Holly knelt behind her. Samantha felt her touch at her ankles as the swollen, used diaper was gently lifted from where it hung limply around her legs. Holly folded it like muscle memory, sealing the tapes together into a neat, practiced bundle. Next came the onesie, tugged from her feet and legs entirely. They were gone before Samantha could think, leaving her completely bare, flushed from head to toe. And then Holly wrapped her arms around her. No scolding. No commands. Just warmth. Just the comfort of two arms pulling her in, holding her tight. Samantha collapsed. The tears came fast and deep, shuddering sobs wracked her as she buried her face into Holly’s shoulder. Her hands clutched at her shirt, needing to hold on to something solid, something safe. “I’m sorry,” she choked out between sobs. “I didn’t mean to yell. I didn’t mean to be bad. I just…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence. She just kept crying, saying “I’m sorry” again and again into Holly’s neck. Holly said nothing at first. She simply held her tighter. One hand rubbed soft circles on her back, the other resting against the curve of Samantha’s shoulder. Her voice, when it came, was gentle and steady. “Shhh... it’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re forgiven, sweetheart. I’m not mad.” That undid Samantha all over again. For three full minutes, she cried in Holly’s arms, melted into her, every bit of tension wrung out with each tear. Eventually, her breathing slowed. Her sobs faded to hiccuped sighs and sniffles. She wiped at her eyes clumsily, still cradled in Holly’s arms. Then, softly: “What now?” Holly smiled against her hair. “Well,” she said calmly, “that’s up to you.” Samantha sniffled again, looking up at her. Holly’s voice stayed soft, patient. “If you want, you can go put on your big girl clothes and come watch a movie with me. Or I can put you to bed now if you’re tired.” She gave Samantha a knowing look. “Or... I can get you into a clean diaper and you can watch the movie all cozy on the couch.” Samantha blinked at her. The words hung in the air. She didn’t know what she wanted. The offer to choose made her heart twist in new ways. Holly kissed her forehead. “Take your time, baby. I’ll go toss the diaper and set your jammies aside.” Samantha stood quietly as Holly left the room. She didn’t rush her decision. Her body still felt raw. Her heart, too. The idea of changing and pretending nothing happened felt hollow. The idea of more TV felt... too much. When Holly returned, Samantha was waiting for her at the door, wrapped in uncertainty but finally sure of one thing. “I... I want to go to bed.” Holly nodded. “Okay, honey.” She stepped closer, brushing a damp lock of hair from Samantha’s cheek. “Do you want me to put you to bed?” Samantha nodded again. “Yes.” Holly paused, eyes searching hers. “Do you need a diaper before bed?” Samantha’s voice was barely a breath. She shook her head no. Holly smiled gently, took her hand, and led her down the hall to her room. Once inside, she pulled back the covers, helped Samantha climb in, and tucked the blankets up around her shoulders. She leaned down, kissed her forehead again. “Sweet dreams, my good girl.” Then Holly turned off the light and left the room, leaving the door cracked just slightly—soft, warm light spilling in. Samantha lay still beneath the covers, still red from earlier, eyes puffy from crying, but her chest finally still. Safe. Watched over. Home. Chapter 6 The sunlight filtering through the living room windows cast a warm golden glow across the hardwood floor, pooling like syrup over the rug where Holly sat cross-legged on the couch, one hand curled around a mug of coffee, the other idly flipping through channels with the remote. The house was still, quiet—serene in the way that only a lazy morning after a long night could be. Samantha padded into the room slowly, blinking away the last clinging threads of sleep. Her hair was a tousled mess, and she was still in the oversized shirt she’d slept in, bare legs brushing against the cold floor. She said nothing as she made her way to the kitchen, grabbing her own mug and pouring herself a cup, steam rising and curling in the air between her hands. When she sat beside Holly, the couch dipped slightly, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Holly glanced over at her, smile gentle, voice warm with that same motherly tone she’d used the night before, equal parts affection and soft authority. “Good morning, baby,” she said sweetly. “How are you doing?” Samantha curled her fingers around her mug and stared into the dark swirl of coffee. “I’m doing much better,” she said, voice quiet but sure. Holly nodded and took a sip of her drink, letting the silence stretch just enough before saying, “Would you like to talk about last night?” Samantha hesitated, then gave the smallest nod. She wasn’t angry,not at all,but something about the question pulled at the center of her chest. Vulnerability didn’t come easy, and now it sat heavy on her tongue. Holly smiled again, softer now. “I imagine last night must’ve felt like a bit of a rollercoaster, huh?” Samantha gave a tiny laugh and nodded once more, her cheeks pinking at the memory. “I was hoping timeout would help you calm down a little,” Holly continued, her voice never once rising above that calm cadence. “Give you space to breathe, to feel what you were feeling. But… I know the spanking was probably intense.” Samantha lowered her gaze, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug. “I get it,” she said sheepishly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t listen. I said no when I knew I shouldn’t have.” “You made it hard for me to give you a choice,” Holly said gently. “I didn’t want to do that, sweetheart. But I needed you to understand that choices have consequences.” Samantha’s eyes shone, not with tears, but with the weight of acknowledgment. She just nodded again, and Holly reached out, her hand resting warmly on Samantha’s leg, her thumb stroking slow circles against her bare skin. There was something grounding in that touch. Something steady. “I love you,” Holly said softly. “And you’re a very, very good girl. I hope there aren’t any more spankings in your future, because I’d rather just cuddle you all day long.” Samantha gave a tiny smile. “I’ll be good next time.” “I know you will.” A few quiet moments passed as the TV played forgotten in the background, the world shrinking to just the two of them and the low hum of everything unspoken. Then Holly asked, “Do you like it, sweetheart?” Samantha blinked. “Like what?” “The diapers. The cuddles. The babying,” Holly said, her voice unflinchingly gentle but firm. “All of it.” Samantha hesitated again, fingers tightening around her mug. She gave a small nod. Holly leaned in, brushing a bit of hair away from her eyes. “I need you to say it, honey. It’s important. You have to be able to tell me what you like.” Samantha licked her lips, cheeks flushing pink again. “I… I like it,” she whispered. “I like… the diapers. And the cuddles. And how you take care of me. I like all of it.” Holly’s smile blossomed like spring sunshine. “Good girl,” she whispered, her hand slipping up to stroke through Samantha’s hair. She leaned in, kissing her temple softly, just once, and Samantha leaned into her touch with a quiet exhale she didn’t realize she’d been holding. They sat that way for a minute, unmoving. Content. Then Samantha glanced up at her, brow furrowed in hesitant curiosity. “Are you ever…” she began slowly, “...going to tell me why you have all this stuff?” Holly gave Samantha a knowing smile and a slow nod. “Sure,” she said softly, as if she’d been waiting for the question. She set her coffee aside and turned slightly on the couch, one leg tucked under her, so she could face Samantha more fully. “Okay. So... while I’m a full-time student, I also do a little work on the side.” She smiled again. “Babysitting.” Samantha opened her mouth, brows raised in disbelief, ready to jump in with something but Holly raised one hand and gently pressed a finger to her lips, eyes twinkling. “Shhh. Let me finish.” Samantha, still stunned, closed her mouth and nodded. Holly leaned back, brushing her thumb across Samantha’s knee like she was grounding her. “I’m not a regular babysitter. I’m an ABDL babysitter.” She let that hang in the air for a moment. Samantha blinked. “ABDL?” Holly nodded. “Adult Baby Diaper Lover. It’s a kink community, mostly, but for a lot of people it’s also about comfort and security. Not just sexual, sometimes it’s therapeutic. Some people just like feeling small and taken care of. Sometimes it’s about regression. Sometimes it’s about trust. There’s a lot of nuance to it, more than people realize.” Samantha just stared, absorbing it, eyes wide with a dawning sense of realization. “The diaper bag you found,” Holly continued, gesturing vaguely toward her room, “that’s the bag I use when I go on babysitting sessions.” Samantha’s lips parted, but she hesitated, then asked, “Do you, um… do it a lot?” “I get more requests than I can handle,” Holly said with a laugh. “So yeah. I’ve gotten a little picky. I only work with clients I feel good about. People I trust not to be weird or unsafe. It’s all very professional.” Samantha gave a half-laugh, half-exhale. “What’s it… like?” Holly’s smile curled wider, a bit sly. “A lot like watching you last night.” Samantha groaned and hid her face behind her coffee mug. “For most of them,” Holly went on, “it’s about being safe. Being small. Letting go of control. They want to feel accepted. Seen. Diapered,” she added with a chuckle, “but also, you know, emotionally held.” Samantha nodded slowly. It was starting to click now, the pacifier, the bottle, the sippy cup, the quiet control in Holly’s voice. All of it. “Sometimes,” Holly added, voice light, “they get a little bratty. Mess with their diapers, try to test limits. Then I have to step in. Handcuffs. Locking mittens. Diaper covers. And sometimes,” she paused, smiling sweetly, “sometimes they need a spanking.” Samantha blinked. Then mumbled quietly, “Like I did…” Holly reached over, brushing her hair softly, combing through the strands with her fingers. “Yes,” she said warmly. “Like you did.” Then her grin turned a little wicked. “Although… you got off easy.” Samantha’s head snapped up. “Trust me,” Holly said with a laugh. “Some of the naughtier littles I watch? When I bring out the paddle, they’re not sitting right for days. Not even in diapers. They learn fast.” Samantha sat very still, not entirely sure whether to be horrified, intrigued, or just completely fascinated. Then Holly’s tone softened again. “I knew the second you went snooping through my diaper bag,” she said, “how interested you were.” Samantha flushed but didn’t deny it. “You were curious. You didn’t even realize how much you wanted it. But I could see it all over you.” Samantha stared down into her coffee, silent, absorbing everything. Every word. Every strange, bizarre, oddly comforting truth about Holly she’d never imagined. And still, all she could do was sit there, trying to process just how deeply down the rabbit hole she’d already gone and how much further she might be willing to fall. Samantha took a deep breath, her fingers tightening slightly around the warm ceramic of her mug. She glanced sideways at Holly, her eyes soft but open, unsure of how else to say what she was feeling. “Thank you,” she said finally. “For... everything. For last night. For, I guess, babysitting me.” Holly’s smile bloomed instantly, easy and bright, as if she’d just been waiting for Samantha to say it. She reached over and ruffled her hair like she had a hundred times, affectionate and effortless. “No problem, sweetie,” she said with a laugh. “Honestly? I was already planning on staying in, binging trash TV, eating pizza. I think I spent, what...... ten minutes diapering and dressing you? Maybe ten more giving you that spanking and tucking you into bed?” Samantha groaned softly and rolled her eyes, a flush blooming high on her cheeks. The way Holly said it, so casual, so matter-of-fact, made it sound like last night was just a normal part of the evening routine. Like brushing her teeth. Like folding laundry. Like giving her twenty-two year old roommate a bare bottom spanking and putting her in diapers was nothing more than a mild deviation from an average Friday. And somehow… that made it even more intense. But still, there was something simmering just beneath the surface of Samantha’s embarrassment. A question that had rooted itself in her mind sometime around midnight, now desperate to be asked. She set her coffee down. Took another breath. “So… if I wanted to, you know… explore this more,” she said slowly, “could I maybe… hire you? Like, professionally?” Holly raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. She studied Samantha, her expression unreadable for a second, and then she nodded slowly. “We can work something out.” She took another sip of her coffee and crossed her legs. “Usually, I charge between three and five hundred dollars an hour.” Samantha coughed. “Yikes.” Holly smirked. “Yeah, I know. It’s not cheap. But it’s work, not just play. What we did last night?” She motioned with her hand like she was brushing crumbs from a table. “That was fun. Sweet. Roommate shenanigans. But when I’m babysitting for real? It’s different.” “How different?” Samantha asked. “It’s intense,” Holly said simply. “Not because I’m mean. But because people pay me to take them somewhere they can’t go alone. A place where they feel small, or safe, or vulnerable, or punished, if that’s what they’re looking for. And it’s my job to get them there. Even if they resist a little.” Samantha’s breath caught. “But everything’s consensual,” Holly continued, “always. We agree on boundaries, use safe words, check in. But within those rules? I push people. I know what they need before they can admit it to themselves. And when I say I’m good at it…” She gave a little shrug. “Let’s just say, I’ve got more clients than hours in the week.” Samantha was quiet, absorbing every word. Her stomach was fluttering, her fingers twitching slightly in her lap. She stared into her mug again, trying to sort out the cocktail of anxiety, excitement, and curiosity swirling inside her. “Yeah…” she said finally. “I can’t afford that.” Holly let out a soft laugh and reached over, brushing her knuckles against Samantha’s cheek. “I figured,” she said gently. “But if you really want to be babysat, we’ll figure something out. You’re not a client. You’re my friend.” Samantha’s heart thudded. But then Holly leaned in slightly, and her tone shifted. A touch darker. Playful. But not joking. “Well,” she said, “not only my friend, maybe. Especially if you keep testing me the way you do.” Samantha blinked. Holly’s grin widened, that familiar glint of authority slipping into her voice. “You like to push,” she said softly. “You like testing the water. Seeing what I’ll do. How far I’ll go. I see it. You might not even realize you’re doing it sometimes, but you do.” Samantha opened her mouth to protest but closed it. She couldn’t deny it. Not really. “And that’s fine,” Holly said, standing from the couch and stretching her arms over her head, her shirt rising just enough to tease. “Just be ready to accept the consequences when you do.” She winked. Then she turned toward the hallway, coffee in hand. “I need to get ready for the day,” she said over her shoulder. “Try not to get into trouble while I’m gone.” And with that, she disappeared into her room, the door swinging half-shut behind her, leaving Samantha on the couch—blushing, flustered, and absolutely buzzing with thoughts. ----------- A week later Holly and Samantha were sitting down for dinner. The evening had been calm, easy, like most of their dinners lately. Two plates of stir-fry sat between them, the smell of garlic and ginger still lingering in the warm kitchen air. Dull clinks of forks against plates were punctuated by the hum of casual conversation—class updates, campus gossip, a professor who still couldn’t figure out how to share his screen over Zoom. And then, in the lull between sentences, Samantha looked up. “Can we talk about babysitting?” she asked, her voice soft but sure, eyes meeting Holly’s across the table. Holly set her fork down with a gentle clink, giving her full attention. “Of course.” Samantha shifted in her seat, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I… I want to do an actual session. Like a real babysitting session. Just like what you do with your clients.” Holly’s brow lifted slightly. “Yeah?” Samantha nodded quickly. “Yeah. But the thing is, I’ve been trying to figure out how to pay for it. I can’t afford $500 an hour.” Holly didn’t flinch. She waited. “So I was thinking…” Samantha went on, “What if I made dinner for the next two weeks? And I paid for groceries? Would that cover, like… an hour?” There was a beat of silence. Then Holly smiled—bright, fond, amused. “That’ll work.” Samantha visibly sagged in relief, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “You okay?” Holly asked, watching her closely now. “Yeah,” Samantha said, nodding. “I just… I’ve really wanted to try this. For real. And I didn’t know how I was going to make it happen. I’ve been nervous to even bring it up.” “Aww,” Holly said, her voice slipping into that teasing sweetness. “Sweet little girl.” The words landed softly but deeply. Samantha could feel them ripple through her, genuine affection wrapped in just enough condescension to make her shift in her chair. Holly meant it, and that only made it more powerful. Samantha swallowed and continued. “I don’t really know what I want out of it though. I just know I want… something. I was hoping you could help?” Holly leaned back in her chair, that familiar mischievous smile curving slowly across her lips. “You like humiliation,” she said, ticking off each point like a checklist. “You’re a little scared of discipline but very into the idea of being held accountable. You definitely enjoy being made to feel small. And you’ve got a praise kink a mile wide.” Samantha stared at her, blinking. “How.......how did you just—” Holly laughed. “I watch you, sweetheart. You show me everything.” The more Samantha thought about it, the more the list clicked into place. All of it had been true. Every word. She hadn’t said any of that out loud. But Holly knew. Holly always knew. “So…” Samantha asked, voice smaller now, “Do you think you could help me explore that stuff?” Holly’s grin deepened, a glint of excitement sparking in her eyes. “Oh, I’m confident I can come up with something.” Samantha nodded slowly. “How does this work, then?” Without a word, Holly picked up her phone, scrolled briefly, then turned it toward Samantha. “I’m free Tuesday evening,” she said. “Just be at the house. Ready. I’ll take care of the rest.” Then her smile faded, just a little, replaced by something serious. Her voice, when she spoke next, was calm, firm, and absolute. “Samantha. This will be a real babysitting session. You are the baby. I am the babysitter. That means I’m in charge. I make the rules. I decide how things go.” She leaned forward slightly. “Do you understand?” Samantha swallowed hard. Her mouth was dry, but she nodded. “Yes.” Holly’s smile returned like sunshine. “Good girl.” Then, casually, as if she were reminding Samantha of the Wi-Fi password, she said, “Your safe word, if things get too intense, is ‘fraggle.’” Samantha blinked, head tilting. “Fraggle?” Chapter 7 Tuesday evening settled over the house like a weighted blanket, soft, warm, and heavy with anticipation. Samantha stood in the living room, frozen in place. Her hands fidgeted at her sides, and she kept glancing toward the hallway where Holly’s door remained shut. She'd already been through two experiences with Holly, but this felt entirely different. This wasn’t play. This was a session. Official. Deliberate. Controlled. And the weight of that knowledge had her stomach flipping. Her thoughts scattered the second Holly emerged. Hair neatly done, a serene smile on her face, dressed like she hadn’t a care in the world. She moved with calm and purpose, composed, graceful and the moment her eyes landed on Samantha, they twinkled. “Hello, little girl,” Holly cooed sweetly. Samantha opened her mouth to respond, but Holly didn’t give her the chance. She stepped forward with practiced ease, plucked an adult-sized pacifier from her pocket, and gently pushed it into Samantha’s mouth, silencing her mid breath. Samantha’s cheeks flushed immediately, and she let out the softest whimper behind the pacifier bulb. “There we go,” Holly said with satisfaction. She placed one hand gently.....firmly....... on Samantha’s bottom and gave it a soft pat. “Now let’s get you dressed properly.” With that, Holly began guiding her down the hall, a gentle but inescapable pressure at the small of her back pushing her forward. The short walk to Holly’s bedroom felt like a march toward total surrender. And the second they stepped inside, Holly’s gentle hands became purposeful. She stripped Samantha without hesitation. One item at a time, peeling away her clothes until Samantha stood naked save for the pacifier in her mouth and the flush painting her cheeks. Holly moved like she’d done this a hundred times, unhurried, confident, completely in control. Then came the diaper. Holly reached into the cabinet and pulled out one of the thickest, most brightly decorated diapers Samantha had ever seen. It was the Mega Safari, patterned with grinning lions and baby elephants. Holly gave it a little shake, fluffing it out, then laid it flat on the bed. “Up you go,” she said, guiding Samantha gently backward until her butt settled on the waiting padding. The powder came next. It was cool, sweet-smelling, clouding the air as Holly dusted Samantha’s hips and inner thighs liberally. Then the front of the diaper was pulled up over her stomach, and one by one, the tapes sealed her in. The sound of each tape locking in place echoed through the room like thunder in Samantha’s ears. “There,” Holly said with a grin, giving her a light tickle on the tummy. “Such a good girl for your babysitter.” Samantha squirmed under her touch, both humiliated and oddly comforted. But Holly wasn’t done. She walked over to her closet and pulled out a folded onesie. It was baby blue with soft little bunny prints, adult-sized, tailored to fit perfectly. She helped Samantha up, guided her arms through the sleeves, and tugged it down before snapping the crotch closed with a trio of tight little clicks beneath the bulge of her thick diaper. Samantha looked down at herself, stunned. “They make these with snaps?” she mumbled around the pacifier. Holly chuckled. “Of course they do, silly girl.” Then she turned, grabbed a pair of shortalls, light denim with adjustable straps, silver buttons, and stepped Samantha into them with practiced care. She pulled the straps over her shoulders, buckled them tight, and gave her a final pat on the front. Samantha blinked, barely able to process how she’d gone from nervous college student to fully dressed overgrown toddler in under ten minutes. But Holly wasn’t finished. She reached into the closet again and pulled out the mint gingham diaper bag. She made a show of checking the contents, powder, wipes, extra diapers, a folded change of clothes, and then glanced back at Samantha with a grin. “And yes,” she added casually, pulling the wooden spanking brush from one side pocket and slipping it back in. “She’s in there too. But we won’t need that tonight.” Samantha’s blood ran hot at the mention of that. Holly slung the diaper bag over her shoulder with ease, took Samantha’s hand in hers, and began leading her toward the front door. It was only then, as her shoes tapped softly against the hardwood, that the realization hit Samantha like a slap to the face. They were leaving. Her hand jerked. The pacifier dropped from her lips. “Wait! What the hell is going on?” she demanded, eyes wide. Holly didn’t even flinch. With practiced ease, she bent down, scooped up the pacifier that had fallen to the hardwood floor, and gave Samantha a look that was half bemused, half motherly disappointment. Before Samantha could say another word, Holly popped it right back into her mouth with a soft plop. “There we go,” Holly said, her tone chiding but gentle, as if she were talking to a particularly messy toddler who’d just thrown their snack on the floor. Then she reached into the diaper bag, humming softly to herself as she rummaged. A moment later, she pulled out a pink pacifier clip—a length of soft, silken ribbon with a plastic clasp on each end. She clipped one end to the pacifier, then guided the other to the chest strap of Samantha’s shortalls and fastened it there with a quiet snap. “You need to be more careful with your binkie,” she said, tapping Samantha lightly on the nose. “We can’t have you dropping it like that, baby girl.” Samantha blinked, cheeks burning, the pacifier already affecting her ability to speak. “Whaph... whaph goin’ on?” she tried to say around the bulb in her mouth. “Whah... hell ish dis?” That was as close as she could manage to what the hell is going on, and Holly knew it. She grinned and tapped her again, this time a little firmer. “Uh-uh. Naughty language like that isn’t allowed.” Samantha’s eyes widened. “We’re going to run some errands,” Holly said casually, as if she hadn’t just announced the most horrifying possibility imaginable. She tugged gently on Samantha’s hand, and when Samantha hesitated, frozen, Holly didn’t even break stride. She simply guided her forward, fingers warm and firm around her palm. The front door opened, and cool evening air rushed in. Samantha’s stomach dropped. She waddled behind Holly, unable to keep up with her usual stride due to the sheer bulk of the Mega Safari diaper between her thighs. It forced her legs apart, every step cushioned, swishing slightly beneath the denim of her shortalls. Her heart was racing. Each tap of her feet against the driveway sounded like a drumroll in her ears. Covered or not, she felt exposed. The outfit, the onesie, the pacifier, the clip bouncing lightly with each step. She might as well have had a sign above her head saying BABY ON BOARD. Her eyes darted around, half expecting a neighbor to step outside, to wave, to see. But no one was around. Then she saw the car. Holly unlocked it with a beep, the lights flashing briefly but when Samantha moved to head for the passenger side, Holly’s hand gently steered her away. Toward the back. Samantha blinked, confused. And then she saw it. An adult-sized car seat. Her mouth dropped open around the pacifier, her eyes wide with disbelief. The seat was oversized but unmistakably modeled after a child’s safety seat—high back, cushioned sides, deep bucket seat, and a full five-point harness with black nylon straps and a center buckle shaped like a ring. “What… what is that?” Samantha asked, trying to move the pacifier aside without taking it out. Holly laughed. “The appropriate seat for a little one like you,” she said brightly. Before Samantha could argue, Holly opened the rear door and gently pressed on her lower back, guiding her into the seat. The soft cushions hugged her hips, the wide, scooped sides pressing snugly against her body. She tried to adjust, but the diaper made everything feel tighter, puffier, like she was already two sizes too big for the space. Then Holly went to work. With smooth, practiced movements, she reached around Samantha’s shoulders and pulled the two chest straps forward, guiding Samantha’s arms between them before clicking both ends of the harness into the D-ring over her chest. The click was loud.....final...........and Samantha’s body stiffened as she realized she’d just been secured. “Wait! Wait!! Holly!!!!!” But Holly was already reaching down. The crotch strap came up next—threaded carefully through the leg openings of the shortalls, then guided between her thighs. It pressed up against the thick, crinkly mass of her diaper, then connected to the same central buckle at her chest. Another solid click. Samantha shifted in protest, but she couldn’t move much at all. And then Holly reached behind her and pulled. The tightening strap. Samantha let out a muffled squeal as she was tugged backward into the padding, the nylon biting lightly against her chest and hips as the entire harness drew tight around her. “H-Holly!” she cried out, now fully restrained, arms pinned at her sides, the seat hugging her from every angle. “I can’t move!” She tried to squirm. Nothing. Tried to wiggle a leg—just met resistance. Tried to sit up—no chance. Holly shut the car door, walked around the front, and slid into the driver’s seat. She adjusted the mirror, giving Samantha a calm, amused look. “I know you can’t get out, silly,” she said, voice full of teasing warmth. “It’s a car seat. You’re not supposed to be able to get out.” Samantha whined in frustration, tugging helplessly at the harness as it held her firmly in place. The diaper squished beneath her with every motion, and the pacifier clip tugged at her chest every time she tried to protest. Her cheeks were on fire. Her limbs pinned. Her dignity nowhere to be found. Holly buckled her own seatbelt, turned the key, and the car rumbled to life. Samantha squirmed one last time, mouth around the pacifier, and whimpered: “Mmmmph! Hahwy…!” But Holly just smiled into the mirror, full of smug satisfaction, and pulled out of the driveway like nothing in the world was unusual at all. The soft hum of the engine blended with the faint crinkle of plastic and fabric as the car sped down the road, the city lights just beginning to flicker on against the dusky sky. In the backseat, Samantha sat locked in place. No, trapped by a car seat clearly designed for someone far younger than twenty two. Her shortalls tugged slightly under the straps, the diaper beneath them swollen and immovable, pressing her thighs apart with that constant, muffled rustle every time she so much as shifted a toe. The pacifier, knocked loose by her earlier protest, dangled from its ribbon, bobbing lightly against her chest. Samantha could feel the outline of the bulb against her skin through the fabric of her onesie, mocking her with every bump in the road. Then Holly reached one hand behind her, still driving with the other, and pulled something from the diaper bag at her side. A pastel sippy cup, filled with bright orange juice. “Here you go,” Holly said sweetly, reaching back and expertly tucking it into the cupholder attached to the side of Samantha’s car seat. “Drink up, baby.” Samantha huffed, lips parting in defiance. “I don’t want anything to drink,” she snapped, her voice edged with frustration and embarrassment as she wiggled again, another wave of crinkle crinkle crinkle punctuating her every futile movement. Holly, completely unfazed, reached into the diaper bag again and pulled out a second sippy cup, this one filled with what looked like apple juice. She leaned back and deposited that one in the opposite cupholder. “You’ve got twenty minutes,” she said, her tone shifting—soft but firm, threaded with authority. “Both sippy cups better be finished before we get there.” The way she said it like it was a fact, not a request—sent a shiver through Samantha. And she knew. If she didn’t drink them, she’d be punished. Maybe not right away. Maybe not obviously. But Holly would make sure she felt it later. So she reached for the first cup. The spout felt soft and rubbery against her lips, and the juice flowed slower than she liked forcing her to suck, to work for it like a child too young for a bottle. Her cheeks hollowed slightly as she drank, the apple flavor sweet and far too strong, cloying in that toddlerish way meant to appeal to someone with no palate. She stared down at herself as she drank. Shortalls tight around her waist. Onesie snapped securely beneath the thick, puffed shell of the Safari-print diaper. Her legs spread and immobile. Her arms pinned under the harness. The constant press of the straps across her chest and shoulders. The lingering weight of the pacifier resting against her like a claim. She was helpless. She had never felt this confined. And she loved it. The humiliation twisted deliciously with a sense of safety, a dizzying cocktail of embarrassment and surrender that left her breathless even as she nursed the sippy cup. She liked that Holly didn’t ask what she wanted. She liked that Holly had made the decisions for her. All of them. She knew what would happen if she pushed back. Holly would just tighten the straps, find something more ridiculous to dress her in, and probably, no definitely threaten another spanking. Or worse. And Samantha would still do what Holly said. She sucked the last bit of juice from the first sippy cup and, after a glance at the mirror where Holly’s eyes met hers with calm satisfaction, switched to the second. As she drank, she twisted slightly in her seat again—crinkle crinkle—and the thick bulk of the diaper reminded her, with almost cruel precision, how far she’d fallen. How thoroughly she’d been stripped of control. By the time they were fifteen minutes in, she could feel the tightness in her belly building. She knew what two full cups of juice would lead to eventually. And she knew what would happen when it did. But there was no choice. Just the warm praise waiting at the end. Near the final turnoff, Holly’s voice floated back with syrupy cheer. “Almost there, sweetheart. Be sure to finish those drinks. You’re so close.” Samantha sucked harder, cheeks burning, the last few sips harder to get out. But she did it. She let the second cup fall back into the holder, swallowing thickly. “I finished them,” she said quietly, pacifier still swinging at her chest. Holly clapped her hands once, excitedly, like a mother congratulating a toddler who just used the potty. “Oh, good girl!” she exclaimed. “You finished both your drinks? I’m so proud of you!” The words shouldn’t have hit so hard. But they did. Samantha’s face flushed deep red. The praise curled around her like a hug, warm and powerful, overwhelming in a way she didn’t know how to process. She felt… small. And yet so seen. And then the car slowed. Turned. Pulled into a parking lot. Samantha’s heart jumped. Rows of lights. Shops. People. Public. An outdoor mall. Chapter 8 The car eased into a space and stopped, and the reality hit her like a punch to the stomach. They weren’t just out. They were going out. The safety of the car,of being confined, yes, but hidden—was gone. And what waited on the other side of the door was the world. The real world. Her lips parted, trembling. But no words came out. The car engine clicked softly as it cooled, but to Samantha, it sounded like a countdown to doom. Outside her window, people strolled between rows of parked cars, shopping bags swinging at their sides, talking, laughing, living normal lives. Meanwhile, she sat in the backseat locked into a massive toddler style car seat, legs spread by the thickest diaper she’d ever worn, shortalls pressing against her belly, a pacifier dangling from her chest, and two empty sippy cups beside her like damning evidence. Then the door opened. Samantha turned her head just in time to see Holly swing it wide, sunlight pouring in and cutting across her face like a spotlight. Holly leaned in, a diaper bag now slung over her shoulder, expression glowing with calm amusement. “There’s my good girl,” Holly said cheerfully, her voice too sweet, too public. “Okay, baby, we’re just going to run a few errands, that’s all.” Samantha’s stomach dropped. Holly continued, completely unfazed by the world around them. “Now while we’re out, you need to stay with me at all times. That means holding my hand unless I say otherwise. Got it?” Samantha’s breath quickened. Her fingers clutched uselessly at the harness. “Holly,” she hissed, trying to wriggle. “I can’t....let me out.......please” Holly placed a firm, grounding hand on Samantha’s thigh. “Shhh. Deep breaths, little one.” Her voice softened but never lost that edge of control. “Can you follow the rules? Can you be a good little girl for me?” Samantha hesitated, chewing on her lip, heart hammering like a drumline in her chest. She didn’t want to answer. But her body was buzzing with adrenaline and submission and something else she couldn’t name, and the reality was she had no choice. “…Yes,” she whispered. Holly beamed. “That’s what I like to hear.” She leaned in closer, lips near Samantha’s ear, her tone turning playfully wicked. “Because if you try to run off, I’m not above putting you on a leash.” Samantha's eyes went wide. “I won’t!” she blurted, the words tumbling out fast and high pitched. “I promise! I’ll be good!” “Of course you will,” Holly said, clearly pleased. “You’re my sweet little girl.” She reached into her purse, pulled out her car keys, and with a series of smooth motions, undid the D-ring holding Samantha’s chest and crotch straps together. The harness slackened, and Holly unbuckled her like a pro, helping her swing her legs out of the car seat one by one. Samantha stood shakily, heart in her throat. Then it happened. Without any hesitation, Holly crouched slightly, reached her hand around to the seat of Samantha’s shortalls, tugged the fabric tight, and did a full, unmistakable diaper check in plain daylight. “Oh good,” Holly said, voice way too loud for comfort. “Still dry! Such a good girl.” Samantha nearly died on the spot. Her entire face flushed a violent crimson. She looked around wildly, certain someone—everyone—must have heard. Her hands clutched the front of her shortalls instinctively, but Holly just stood and gave her a soft, playful pat pat pat on her diapered backside. “Come on,” Holly said brightly, taking her hand. “Let’s go.” And they started walking. Hand in hand. In public. Each step Samantha took brought with it that cursed crinkle......faint, yes, but to her ears it was screaming. The diaper between her thighs forced her to waddle just enough to feel ridiculous, every movement a humiliating reminder of what she was wearing, of how small Holly had made her feel. And then there was the diaper bag. Holly carried it with ease, the mint gingham pattern standing out like a beacon of shame. Samantha couldn’t stop staring at it, certain that every passerby would know immediately that it was for her. That she was the diapered little girl tagging along. That she had needed to be checked, and praised, and strapped into a car seat like a toddler. She tugged on Holly’s hand. “Everyone can tell I’m in a diaper,” she whined, barely able to meet her eyes. Holly burst out laughing. “No they don’t,” she said breezily. “You’re just being dramatic.” And with that, she pushed open the door to a large department store, the blast of air conditioning hitting them like a wave as Samantha’s humiliation took its next inevitable step into the real world. The blast of cold air inside the department store hit Samantha like a wall, crisp and sudden, and with it came an unwelcome jolt to her bladder. The pressure, once manageable, surged forward. Instinctively, her hands drifted toward her crotch in a protective reflex but she caught herself, pulling them away quickly, cheeks already burning. Holly noticed, of course. She said nothing, but her smirk deepened as she tightened her hold on Samantha’s hand and casually guided her toward the baby section. Her pace was unhurried, almost leisurely, as though this were just another peaceful shopping trip between caretaker and child. They passed racks of bibs, bottles, and binkies before turning down a long aisle lined with baby wipes, powders, and oils. Holly grabbed a hand basket and began plucking a few packs of wipes off the shelf, humming softly to herself. Samantha glanced around, nerves fraying. “What are we doing here?” she whispered, trying to keep her voice low. “Just need to pick up a few things,” Holly replied breezily, smiling like she wasn’t leading a fully diapered adult in shortalls through a public store. They moved further down, and Holly stopped at the baby powder section. She studied the rows of containers like she was comparing fine wines. Then, far too loud for Samantha’s liking: “Do you like the baby powder I used to diaper you today, sweetheart?” Samantha’s eyes widened in horror. She glanced down the aisle. A couple with a stroller strolled past. A teenage girl was flipping through the labels on a nearby shelf. No one was looking but the threat that they could was enough to send a spike of panic through her. “Please,” she hissed under her breath, “don’t be so loud.” But Holly’s smile widened as she turned a container over in her hand. “Well, I think I’ll just get the regular one. Seems like it’s doing a good job keeping you from getting a rash.” She dropped not one but two large containers of baby powder into the basket with a loud thunk. Samantha’s knees pressed slightly together, as if that would ease the pressure in her bladder. It didn’t. The urge had transformed from a warning to a demand. But Holly was already on the move again, guiding her out of the baby aisle and into the women’s clothing section. Samantha waddled slightly now, every step making her more aware of the diaper between her thighs, soft, thick, and soon to be tested again. They barely made it a few feet into the clothing section when a woman with a wide, friendly smile and a nametag reading Karen approached them. “Hi there!” she said, beaming. “I’m Karen. Let me know if you two need anything!” Then she turned her attention to Samantha. Her expression shifted. She was still friendly, but softer, warmer, sweeter. She bent slightly at the waist to look Samantha directly in the eyes. “And how are you doing today, sweetheart?” Samantha froze. Her mouth moved, but no words came. Samantha's heart pounded in her chest like a drumbeat of panic. Holly leaned down slightly and chided her in the same patient tone she might’ve used on an actual shy toddler. “It’s not polite to ignore people, Sammy.” Samantha swallowed hard. “I—I’m fine,” she said quickly, barely above a whisper. Holly smiled at Karen. “She’s just a little shy.” Karen chuckled. “Nothing wrong with being shy.” Then she looked directly at Samantha, her voice pitching higher, babyish, syrup-thick. “Isn’t that right, cutie?” Samantha wanted to disappear. She felt like her skin might burn through her clothes. Her hand tightened around Holly’s, but Holly’s grip held firm, grounding her, anchoring her in place. There would be no escape. “I’m looking for a few tops for her,” Holly said, still cool, calm, like this was perfectly ordinary. Karen nodded enthusiastically and crouched again, this time speaking directly to Samantha with the same patronizing warmth. “And what kind of designs do you like, sweetie? Bunnies? Butterflies? Maybe something with sparkles?” Samantha hesitated, her face still on fire. Her mouth opened but nothing came out. Smack. Smack. Two quick, unmistakable spanks landed on the seat of her diapered butt. Not hard, not painful but enough to jolt her body and send a shock of embarrassment so intense she almost cried out. The result was immediate. A sudden warmth bloomed between her thighs. The pressure released involuntarily. She gasped softly as her bladder gave way, hot liquid flooding the thick padding, swelling it even more. The diaper soaked it up expertly, but the sheer helplessness of the moment shattered her. “I—I’m not picky,” she stammered, face twitching as she struggled to stay composed. “You could… just show me some options.” Karen smiled brightly. “Of course!” She turned to Holly. “Mind if I take her over to look?” “Not at all,” Holly replied, slipping her hand from Samantha’s grasp with infuriating grace. Karen reached out and took Samantha’s hand in both of hers, gently but without hesitation, and led her like a toddler down the aisle. Samantha waddled after her, the diaper now noticeably heavier, the thick plastic squishing with each step. Her legs couldn’t quite close, and every sound she made in motion felt like it echoed through the entire store. Karen brought them to a rack of brightly colored tops. “How about this one?” she cooed, holding up a soft pink shirt with cartoon strawberries and frills at the sleeves. “You’d look so adorable in this.” Samantha tried to reply, tried to focus on the question—but her legs were clenched, hips slightly rocking. She couldn’t hold it anymore. A soft hand landed gently on her shoulder from behind. Samantha flinched. It was Holly. The surprise and the sudden loss of focus was enough. The rest of her bladder let go, warmth pooling again inside the already damp padding, her face twisting in horror and surrender at once as Karen continued holding up shirts beside her. “You’d look so cute in this one, too!” Karen chirped. Samantha stood there, mid wetting, unable to do anything but nod slowly heart racing, lips pressed shut, and her diaper quietly expanding beneath her shortalls, holding her secret… for now. Karen held up one shirt after another, her voice a soft stream of praise and sweetness. Samantha stood stiffly beside her, trying to breathe, trying to ignore the warmth between her thighs and the swollen diaper pressing heavily against her with every breath. She had just wet herself. Not just that—she had done it in front of someone. While someone was talking to her. Complimenting her. She felt hollowed out. Shaky. Completely overwhelmed. But Holly, ever poised, ever unfazed, stepped in with a calmness that somehow only made it worse. “Do you like any of those, sweetheart?” she asked, voice light, hand still resting reassuringly on Samantha’s shoulder. Samantha blinked. Swallowed. Tried to nod. “I… I like these two,” she murmured, holding up a pale yellow tee with a bunny and a soft lilac one with glittery lettering. Her voice barely held together. Her hands were shaking. “They’re cute,” Holly said with a smile. “Good choices.” She turned to Karen. “Where’s your dressing room?” Karen brightened. “Oh! Just this way. Come on, cutie,” she said, looping her hand gently around Samantha’s arm and beginning to lead her across the floor. Samantha had no choice but to follow, her wet diaper squishing with each step, the dampness making her waddle more pronounced than ever. Karen didn’t mention it. Didn’t flinch. Just walked with her, cheerful and kind, like this was totally normal. “Those shirts are gonna look adorable on you,” Karen said kindly as they passed a rack of skirts. When they reached the dressing rooms, Karen turned back to Holly. “If you need anything, just holler, okay?” she said with a wink. Then, lowering her voice with a playful smirk, she added, “And feel free to change her in there if she needs it. There’s a trash can just outside the door.” Samantha’s stomach dropped, but before she could react, Karen had unlocked a room, smiled again, and walked away, humming to herself. Inside, the quiet of the dressing room wrapped around them. Samantha stood frozen for a moment, her eyes welling with tears. She couldn’t speak. Could barely think. The humiliation, the reality, the fullness of her diaper it was all crashing down on her at once. “I wanna go home,” she whispered, voice breaking. But Holly was already pulling wipes from the diaper bag, moving efficiently, calmly, as if none of this was out of the ordinary. “No,” Holly said gently. “We’re going to change your diaper, try on the shirts, and then we’ll leave.” Samantha opened her mouth to argue, but the look Holly gave her stopped her mid breath. It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t cruel. It was just… final. Firm. Caretaker certainty. A look that said you will obey me because you want to be my good girl. Samantha deflated. Nodded. Holly patted the bench. “Lie down, baby.” She did. Holly’s hands moved quickly, unsnapping the shortalls, tugging them down, followed by the onesie. In moments, Samantha was lying on the bench in nothing but her very wet diaper and socks, the crinkled tapes peeling open with loud, unmistakable rips. Holly cleaned her with practiced ease—wipes cool, deliberate. She dusted Samantha with far too much baby powder, the scent billowing in the air, making her wrinkle her nose. “Too much,” Samantha mumbled. “You’ll be fine,” Holly said sweetly, taping up a fresh Safari diaper with that same casual authority. She folded up the used one, sealed it tightly, and set it aside. “Better powdered than rashy.” She helped Samantha back into her onesie, fastened the snaps, tugged the shortalls back up over the thick new diaper, and adjusted the straps. Then she held out the two shirts. “Try them on. Let’s see.” Samantha numbly pulled them over her head, one at a time, her arms sluggish. Holly nodded approvingly at the lilac one and handed it back. “That one. Let’s go.” She tossed the rolled up diaper in the trash can outside the door without hesitation and led Samantha by the hand to the front counter. Samantha didn’t look up. She just kept her gaze fixed to the floor as Holly paid for the shirt and said thank you to the cashier like it was the most ordinary transaction in the world. Outside, the sun was lower. The heat of the day was gone, but Samantha’s face was still burning. The sound of her shortalls brushing her thighs. The weight of the diaper. The ghost of the change room. It all clung to her. They reached the car. Holly clicked the remote. Samantha turned to her with wide eyes, voice cracking. “What the hell, Holly?” Holly didn’t miss a beat. Without a word, she reached down and took hold of the pacifier clipped to the front of Samantha’s shortalls, lifting it with two fingers and gently placing it back in her mouth like it belonged there. Then she stepped around to the backseat, opened the door, and pushed the buckles of the oversized restraint system out of the way, creating an inviting if incredibly humbling space for her passenger. “Hop in,” Holly said sweetly, her tone filled with faux patience. Samantha took the pacifier out, defiant. “No. I don’t want to get in.” Holly tilted her head, expression calm but unyielding. “You need to be a good girl and get in the seat. Now.” “I said I don’t want to.” Holly’s smile never faded. “Last chance to climb in like a big girl.” Samantha hesitated, thinking maybe if she just stood there long enough, the moment would pass. She stayed frozen. Holly moved. With surprising strength and the confidence of someone who had done this before, Holly placed one hand under Samantha’s backside and the other against her back, scooping her up with efficiency that startled Samantha. Samantha gasped, shocked as she was physically lifted, cradled just long enough to be set down squarely in the waiting seat. “What the—Holly!” But it was too late. Holly slid the chest straps around Samantha’s shoulders and clipped them together at the central buckle, the sound of the *click* slicing through her daze. That sound—the cold finality of it—snapped Samantha out of her stunned silence, and she began to fight. She squirmed, kicked, twisted. But Holly, calm as ever, simply maneuvered the crotch strap up between her thighs, threaded it through smoothly despite the resistance, and clicked it into the center ring. Another sharp *snap*. Then came the final insult: the tightening straps. Holly gave them a firm pull, securing everything, pinning Samantha down snugly. There was no give, no freedom. Only containment. And Holly, still silent, closed the door. Samantha could do nothing but squirm in the heavily cushioned restraint, rage and panic bubbling up until she exploded into a full on meltdown. “Let me out!” she snapped. “Holly, I swear to God, let me out!” But Holly said nothing. She climbed into the driver’s seat, set the diaper bag down in the front, buckled her seatbelt, and simply sat there. Samantha thrashed. Tugged at the harness. Writhed. But it didn’t budge. Her limbs grew tired, her breath short, her chest heaving as the reality settled into her bones. She wasn’t getting out. Not unless Holly said so. Five long minutes passed. Maybe more. Then silence. Samantha’s body finally stilled, limbs limp in the tight, unyielding grip of the straps. Her breathing slowed. And then, casually, Holly reached into the front pocket of the diaper bag and pulled out a bottle—sleek, oversized, filled with golden juice—and turned halfway to set it into the cupholder next to Samantha’s thigh. “Here,” she said gently. “Drink. It'll help you calm down.” Samantha didn’t argue. Didn’t snark. Didn’t protest. She just picked up the bottle, pressed the rubber nipple to her lips, and started to drink. The juice was cool and sweet. The sucking sound seemed louder now. The crinkling of her clothes, the pressure of the seat, the rhythmic pull on the bottle—it all conspired to remind her just how small she felt. How completely helpless. How much she had surrendered without ever really intending to. And Holly smiled, satisfied. “You done with your tantrum, sweetheart?” she asked, her tone saccharine, measured. Samantha, flushed and out of breath, nodded once. “Yeah.” “Okay,” Holly replied, calm and clear, as she started the engine. Chapter 9 The hum of the engine filled the car as Holly merged smoothly onto the road, one hand steady on the wheel, the other occasionally tapping along with the music playing low from the radio. “We’re gonna grab some food before heading home,” she said calmly, as if they weren’t both still processing everything that had just unfolded. In the backseat, secured tightly in her harness, Samantha didn’t argue. Her voice was quiet, soft, her earlier resistance wrung out of her. “I think I can handle that,” she said, almost more to herself than to Holly. Holly reached back with a glance in the rearview mirror, her hand brushing lightly along Samantha’s thigh through the denim of her shortalls. “I’m proud of you,” she said gently. The words hit with a strange warmth, unwelcome, comforting, humbling. Samantha didn’t respond right away, but the tight knot in her chest loosened just enough to breathe again. “You’ve done pretty well,” Holly added, her voice still even, but edged now with something more deliberate. “I know today’s been a lot. But I’ll be very clear, if there’s another outburst like that, where you ignore me or try to push back like earlier… you’ll be in real trouble. Understand?” Samantha nodded instinctively, but Holly’s voice sharpened just a little. “I need you to say it. “…I understand,” Samantha murmured. Holly smiled, her gaze flicking back again through the mirror. “Good girl.” That did something. Again. Samantha sat straighter in the seat, feeling a flutter of something that wasn’t quite shame or pride—but something. Ten minutes later, Holly pulled into the Chik-Fil-A parking lot, the golden glow of the red signage lighting up Samantha’s face. Her mood flipped on instinct. “I love* Chik-Fil-A,” she said, smiling for the first time in what felt like hours. Holly gave her a knowing look as she put the car in park. “I know, silly. That’s why we’re here.” She stepped out, came around to the back, and with the efficiency of someone who had done this many times, undid the straps, opened the door, and helped Samantha out of the seat. Her legs wobbled a bit due to part exhaustion, part lingering awkwardness from the still-present padding—but she followed along without protest as Holly led her inside. The smell of fried chicken hit them immediately. They stepped up to the counter. Holly placed their order without asking. “One chicken sandwich meal,” she said for herself. “And a twelve-count kids’ nugget meal.” Samantha blinked. She opened her mouth slightly but wisely said nothing. She caught Holly’s side glance and decided not to press her luck. The cashier handed them a placard for their table, and they made their way to a booth near the window. As they sat down, Samantha slid into her seat with a soft huff, leaning slightly across the table. “I can order my own food, you know,” she mumbled under her breath. Holly tilted her head. “Oh really?” she said with exaggerated curiosity, already reaching into the diaper bag perched beside her. Before Samantha could answer, Holly pulled out a bib and with a practiced flick draped it around Samantha’s neck, fastening it in the back like it was the most natural thing in the world. Samantha opened her mouth to protest, cheeks heating but Holly touched a finger lightly to her lips. “Would you rather eat in a high chair?” she asked sweetly. “I’m sure we could find one that fits.” Samantha immediately closed her mouth, shifting awkwardly. She didn’t know if that was a bluff or not, and she didn’t want to find out. Just then, a smiling team member approached with their food. “Here you go,” the server said cheerily, setting the tray down. Holly smiled and thanked them, then immediately went to work opening up Samantha’s sauces. First the ketchup followed by the Polynesian lining up the box of nuggets, the waffle fries, and the kid-sized drink in front of her like a curated display. Samantha watched silently, equal parts mortified and, inexplicably, a little warm inside. Holly leaned forward, elbows on the table, and tilted her head. “So,” she said, voice syrupy-smooth. “Can you feed yourself like a big girl… or do you need a little help?” Samantha didn’t know why she said it. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the lingering cocktail of embarrassment, defiance, submission, and something deeper—some barely understood craving for boundaries and care. Or maybe she just wanted to push, to see how far she could go. When Holly asked her if she needed help eating, Samantha met her gaze and replied with a bratty tilt of her head, “What do you think?” Her tone wasn’t loud, but it carried—playful, challenging, tinged with heat and tension. Holly raised an eyebrow. No immediate reaction. Just a quiet blink as her expression slowly morphed into something unreadable. She stood up. And switched seats. Now seated beside her, Holly reached into the diaper bag with unhurried purpose and pulled out something Samantha recognized immediately—an oversized bottle with a pastel cap. She unscrewed the top without saying a word, picked up the small carton of milk from Samantha’s tray, and poured it in. Then, loud enough for the booth behind them to hear: “Oh, sweetheart, if you needed help, you could’ve asked your babysitter.” Samantha froze, her eyes darting to the side to see if anyone had noticed. A couple was seated across the restaurant, not looking. Maybe they hadn’t heard. Maybe. But it didn’t matter—because Holly had already lifted the bottle and placed the silicone nipple to Samantha’s lips. “Open,” Holly said softly, firmly. Samantha shook her head. But Holly gently pressed the bottle forward until the nipple slid past her lips and she had no choice but to start sucking—or let it leak down her chin. The milk filled her mouth, warm and slightly sweet. She tried to push back with her tongue but Holly held the bottle steady, her other hand softly brushing the back of Samantha’s neck in a gesture that felt simultaneously intimate and dominating. Every slow, rhythmic pull from the bottle made Samantha more aware of how completely the control had shifted. Not just the feeding. Not just the public. Everything. When the bottle was empty, Holly smiled—too brightly—and, with that same exaggerated tone, said, “There’s my good girl. Drank her whole bottle like a champ.” Samantha’s cheeks burned hot. Then Holly opened the nugget box, dipped one into sauce, and without hesitation, brought it to Samantha’s mouth. “Open up. Here comes the train,” she cooed, her voice dancing on the edge of mockery and affection. Samantha hesitated just a beat too long—so Holly tapped her chin with the nugget. “Open.” She did. The sauce smeared the corner of her lip as Holly fed her nugget after nugget, switching between fries and chicken, sometimes double-dipping, sometimes smearing extra sauce on her cheek on purpose. She didn’t wipe it away. She just smiled, watching Samantha's composure drip slowly away. Samantha didn’t think she could sink deeper than she had at the department store. She was wrong. When the tray was nearly empty, Holly stood and wiped her hands with a napkin. “Sit tight, baby.” Samantha nodded, mute. She didn’t dare move. Holly returned a minute later with another bottle, this one fuller, colder, condensation clinging to the plastic. “Round two,” she said gently, sliding in beside her again. The nipple pressed to Samantha’s lips. She didn’t resist this time. She drank. And drank. By the time the bottle was empty, she was squirming in her seat. The pressure in her lower belly had grown to something uncomfortable. She shifted slightly, trying to find relief, but the bulk of her padding and the tightness of the shortalls made it impossible. Then Holly did something unexpected. She slipped her hand behind Samantha and began patting—slow, rhythmic. Samantha stiffened, immediately understanding what it was meant to mimic. “Don’t” she started. But it was too late. A belch escaped her lips. It was loud, involuntary, humiliating. And right behind it, a slow, warm release that she couldn’t stop. The pressure in her bladder gave out, flooding the already thick padding of her diaper. Her thighs trembled. She gripped the edge of the table to steady herself as the wet warmth spread, absorbed, pressed back against her. Holly just smiled. She wiped Samantha’s face calmly with a napkin, collected the trash, and tidied up their booth. Before leaving, Holly reached down the short tails driving her fingers to the leg cuffs of the diaper announcing loud enough for anyone to hear, “You wet your diaper. But it should be fine until we can get home and change you”. Then they left. Samantha followed, quiet, heavy between the legs, unsure whether she was numb or soaring. It was a strange in-between. Back at the car, Holly opened the back door and helped her into the seat again. Then she buckled the chest strap, then the crotch, pulling everything tight again with a tug that pressed the damp padding snugly into place. The door clicked shut. Samantha exhaled. And the car began to roll. The car slowed to a stop in the driveway, and the familiar quiet of home settled over them like a blanket. Holly stepped out first, then opened the back door and began unbuckling Samantha from her harness. There was no struggle this time. Just silence, and a calm that settled between them in the cooling air. Once the final strap clicked free, Samantha climbed out on her own. The wet padding between her thighs made her walk stiff and slow, her shortalls pulled awkwardly by the weight of it. Still, she followed Holly to the front door without a word. Inside, the house was quiet and dim. Holly dropped the diaper bag on its usual spot by the door and turned to face her. She didn’t say anything right away. Just stepped forward and pulled Samantha into a long, warm hug. “You did great,” Holly murmured into her ear. “Really, really great.” Samantha nodded against her shoulder, a small, almost bashful smile on her face. The hug wasn’t just comforting. It anchored her, reassured her that the whirlwind of the day had a soft landing. “We’re done for the evening,” Holly said as she pulled back. “Do you want help getting changed?” Samantha shook her head. “No… I’m tired. I think I’m just gonna go to bed.” Holly nodded with understanding, then reached into the bag from earlier and handed her the new shirt they’d picked out. “Here. This can be a little keepsake from your session.” Samantha took it in both hands, her fingers brushing over the soft fabric. As she turned to leave, Holly smirked and walked past her until she felt a sudden, firm swat land squarely on her backside. She stopped, slowly turning with an exaggerated arch of her brow. Samantha stood there, trying to look innocent. Holly gave a sly smile. “Good night, you naughty girl.” Then, as she walked off toward her own room, she called over her shoulder, playful and amused: “If I didn’t know any better… I’d think you were trying to earn yourself one last spanking before bed.”

Introduction William (or Will for short) Williams, 45, is a man who stumbled into the world of marketing and found himself running his own marketing firm, though he never planned on it. Despite his success, he now spends his days as a stay-at-home dad, leaving behind the once-bustling business world. Though he’s content with his role at home, it’s clear that the shift hasn’t been without its emotional and personal challenges. Peggy, 47, is a force to be reckoned with—driven, accomplished, and highly intelligent. With a J.D. and an MBA, she had the tools to conquer the corporate world, but it wasn’t until Will nearly lost the family business a decade ago that she stepped in to save it. Today, she is the driving force behind one of the city’s largest and most successful companies, managing a global customer base. Her ability to balance both her career and her family is admirable, but it's also clear that the sacrifices she’s made have impacted the dynamics at home. For Zoey, 18, the family structure has always been a little different than what her friends might experience. As a high school senior, Zoey has long known that her mom is the one in charge—both at home and in the business world. Zoey vaguely remembers the time when things began to change: her dad moved out of the master bedroom, and her brother, Max, was getting potty trained. Her mom, Peggy, in an attempt to maintain some semblance of order, told Zoey that when she’s busy, Zoey would be in charge—not Tim. This moment, though subtle at the time, marked the beginning of a shift that Zoey would carry with her into adulthood. This was already a decade ago and her Mom was going on another business trip, this time to Tokyo. A Typical Tuesday The morning began with Peggy issuing marching orders from the kitchen like a four-star general. "Zoey, make sure your brother finishes his homework before his Minecraft marathon starts “Will, the recycling hasn't moved since last Thursday. Move it before I demote you to worm-wrangler in the garden." “Yes, ma’am,” Will muttered, saluting with a banana peel before hustling outside in his slippers. Zoey peered over her cereal bowl, eyebrow arched. “Dad, if you want to gain rank, I suggest fewer dad jokes and more action. Mom’s starting to think Alexa is more helpful.” Will looked wounded. “Alexa doesn’t know how to grill burgers.” “She also doesn’t lock the keys in the car twice in one week,” Zoey said without missing a beat. The Twist Despite his position on the bottom rung, Will wouldn’t trade it for the world. He loved being part of this upside-down empire. His family functioned like a well-oiled machine — even if he was mostly the oil, occasionally leaking all over the carpet. And every so often, when Peggy was stressed and Zoey had teen drama to navigate, Tim’s quiet strength, dad jokes, and emergency chocolate stash made him the unsung hero of the Carter Kingdom. Because being last in the pecking order doesn’t mean being the least important. Sometimes, it just means you’re the foundation everything stands on. Peggy leaned against the counter, her eyes scanning the kitchen as she mentally ran through her checklist for the day. She had to be quick—another business trip meant more responsibilities waiting at the airport. “Alright, everyone, listen up.” She was starting to feel that familiar tension of being pulled in multiple directions. The to-do list in her mind seemed endless, but her family needed the usual reminders before she could escape. “I’m leaving for the airport today for a few days, so let’s get a few things straight.” Her eyes landed on Will first, who was still fiddling with a piece of toast, looking only half aware of the situation. “Zoey’s in charge. As always. She’s the one running the show while I’m gone. Got it, Tim?” Will just nodded, trying to look serious but failing miserably. “Yes, ma’am.” “Good. Zoey, you get the master bedroom this time. I’m not taking the risk of coming back and finding that disaster zone.” Peggy tossed a glance at the living room, where the mess was already piling up. “Which means, Will, you’ll be moving to the guest room. We’ve been over this. No complaints. I’m serious. The couch has no place for a grown man when there’s a perfectly good guest bed available.” Will gave a mock salute. “Aye, captain.” “And,” Peggy added, crossing her arms, “there’s one more thing. Zoey’s officially 18 now, so we’re all on the same page about this: Zoey decides what you eat. No more asking her opinion on what you want for dinner. She’s the adult now, and you’re the one who’s cooking, got it?” Zoey shot her mom a look of amusement. “Thanks for the trust, Mom." Peggy didn’t miss a beat. “You’re in charge, Zoey. And that means you make the calls. But that doesn’t mean you get to go easy on your dad. I trust you’ll keep him in line.” Zoey leaned back, looking as calm as ever. “No promises. He’s a lost cause.” “Well, you’ll be the one left cleaning up the mess, not me,” Peggy said, knowing full well she was leaving her daughter to pick up all the slack. But there was a part of her that couldn’t help but feel pride. Zoey was stepping into her role, growing up faster than Peggy ever expected. “Alright,” she said, taking one last glance at her family. “I’m off. Don’t make me regret this.” Regime Change When Peggy Carter boarded her flight to Tokyo, she left behind the usual thorough itinerary. But tucked behind the meal plan and emergency contacts was a second page, handwritten, and marked simply: For Zoey’s eye’s only. Rules for Zoey Enforce bedtime for Will (8:00 PM sharp). No excuses. If he argues, remind him that even Dad needs his beauty sleep. No couch naps unless chores are done. Actually, no couch at all! If Will wants to sit, he can sit on the floor. Let him know that the couch is a privilege, not a right. Confiscate his remote. You’re in charge of TV privileges. He’s not. And remove the TV from the guest room. If he wants to watch something, he’ll have to earn it. Bonus points for taking it one step further and hiding the remote entirely. Max can have soda. Will cannot. You may demote Dad’s snack privileges. If he sneaks in one too many of your snacks, take a stand. Make him earn them with a chore. Bonus points for creative snack rationing. If he calls you “kiddo” while trying to dodge a rule — add a new rule. Immediately! No hesitation. Make it stick. Car Rule - You drive. He sits in the back. If he pouts, turn on Zoey’s Playlist and sing all the words, loud and proud! Make sure it’s the entire drive. Extra points for harmonizing. Dinner Decision Making: Zoey’s the one in charge of meals now. She decides what’s for dinner, and Will has no say, though he must cook it. No Whining: Will cannot complain or there will be consequences New Rules... Zoey may add rules as she sees fit. Now, most importantly, if I come back jet-lagged and cranky you have my permission to put me in timeout for the night. No phone. Just a blanket and tea. Enforce this rule without mercy. The household binder was off-limits to Will—strictly reserved for the adult in charge. And now that Zoey was officially 18, that adult was her.

Hi guys! I finally got a Subscribestar. All of my stories are being uploaded there, plus a lot of new content, including in-progress content like Diapered Stepmother, The Regression Act, and Like Mother Like Daughter. Check out my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Wife’s New Boyfriend Is My New Daddy January 8 A few months ago, Laura sat me down and told me something that I still haven’t fully wrapped my head around. She said that since I couldn’t satisfy her anymore, she was going to get a boyfriend who could. And she did. It’s not hard to see why. My fantasy life has completely taken over. I’ve become so immersed in being an adult baby—wearing diapers, plastic pants, and sissy dresses—that being a husband, or even a lover, just doesn’t feel like me anymore. I’ve accepted it, but I guess that means I’ve had to accept the consequences too. Last night, we were talking, and I realized I didn’t even know how many times she and her boyfriend, Matthew, have had sex (or “made love,” as she insists on calling it). She didn’t hesitate to tell me. She said they waited until the third date to have full sex—nothing more than a kiss on the first date and some mutual touching on the second. But after that third date, they went back to his place, and, well, you can guess the rest. She even came home afterward and told me all about it. Since then, they’ve been back to his place three more times. They’ve had sex here once when I wasn’t home, once when I was but in another room, and twice in a hotel during a weekend getaway. Oh, and apparently, they’ve even done it in a movie theater during a matinee. She said the reclining seats made it easy for them. Nine times in three months—at least, that’s what she’s told me. When I asked her about the future, she made it clear that this isn’t stopping anytime soon. She said she loves this new arrangement and doesn’t see any reason to change it. And since I’m so deep into my baby role, she doesn’t think I’ll want it to change either. She also told me something that left me speechless: Matthew prefers me this way. He likes that I’m a sissy baby and wants me to be in this role whenever he’s around. And, apparently, he’s going to be around a lot more. She said I should get used to it. It was even his idea to change my diaper the other night, just to show me he’s the man of the house now. Oh, and for Christmas? Matthew gave me a onesie that said “I Love Daddy.” I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or just accept that this is my life now. January 15 Things are moving fast—way faster than I ever expected. Laura and Matthew’s relationship has progressed so much that it’s honestly left me reeling at times. When we first talked about her having a boyfriend, I thought I understood. I knew she needed something I couldn’t give her, and I accepted that. But I also knew it would be hard for me to deal with, especially as things got more serious. Knowing Laura, I figured she’d develop feelings for whoever she was intimate with. That part didn’t surprise me. The sex? Strangely enough, that’s been the easiest thing to accept. It’s the emotional side of things that’s really throwing me. Matthew isn’t just someone she’s sleeping with—he’s her boyfriend. A real boyfriend. She lights up when she talks about him, spends hours on the phone with him, and gets excited about planning their next time together. Watching that connection grow between them has been harder than I thought it would be. At first, I didn’t think I’d be much of a factor in their relationship. I figured I’d just be left at home, lost in my baby world, while they did their thing. I assumed that Matthew would meet “Baby Sofia” at some point, but I thought it would be brief—just a quick hello before they went off together. I never imagined I’d be playing an actual role in this arrangement. But now, Laura says Matthew will be around a lot more. Apparently, the new plan is for all of us to interact more regularly, and she even hinted that Matthew will be taking a more active role with me as Baby Sofia. I don’t know what that’s going to mean yet, and honestly, I’m not sure if I’m ready to find out. January 22 Last night was… unexpected. I got home from an appointment, walked into the living room, and there they were—Laura and Matthew—cuddled up on the sofa watching a movie. I had no idea he was coming over. Laura just grinned at me and said, “Surprise! Why don’t we get you changed into your bedtime clothes and then come join us until it’s your bedtime? Bring your blankie and paci with you.” I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded and followed her to the nursery. She changed me into a diaper, plastic panties, and a short baby nightie. It felt humiliating, but I didn’t resist. I never do. Once I was dressed, we went back to the living room. Laura told me to sit on the floor with my blankie while she and Matthew stayed on the couch. She started asking me about my evening, like this was the most normal thing in the world. After I’d finished answering, she smiled and asked, “Do you have any more thoughts on your age presentation and growing up?” I knew what she was getting at. Before I could think of a good answer, she said, “I don’t think you’re really ready to get out of diapers yet, are you?” I felt my face flush, but I admitted that I wanted to stay in diapers a while longer. I thought that would be the end of it, but then Matthew chimed in. He said, “You love your diapers and should stay in them at least through summer so you can play outside in them.” I was completely caught off guard by his comment. He sounded so matter-of-fact about it, like he had a say in the matter. Laura didn’t object, and just like that, it was decided—diapers are here to stay. By 8:30, Laura announced it was bedtime. She handed me a bottle and tucked me in while lullaby music played on the Alexa. I could still hear them laughing faintly in the living room as I drifted off. When I woke up this morning, Matthew was gone. I have no idea how late he stayed or what happened after I went to bed. Not that I have to guess. This is my new normal, I guess. January 26 Last night was my weekly poker game. It’s always held in the basement, and the guys just let themselves in through the side door. No need to knock—everyone knows the drill. We got started around six, and everything was going smoothly until I went upstairs around 8:00 to grab more ice. That’s when things got... awkward. As I came up the stairs, I heard voices coming from the living room. Curious, I peeked in, and there they were—Laura and Matthew—curled up on the sofa, watching TV like it was the most natural thing in the world. Meanwhile, a bunch of poker players were just below them, completely unaware. I didn’t even know Matthew was coming over. Laura didn’t bother to tell me. She just looked up, smiled, and casually asked how I was doing, like this was perfectly normal. I was too stunned to say much more than a quick “hello” before retreating back downstairs. My mind was racing the rest of the night, and let’s just say I didn’t play my best poker. The game broke up around 1:00 a.m., and when I went back upstairs, the bedroom door was closed. I had no idea if Matthew was still there or not. This morning, Laura was already gone by the time I woke up. She left me a bottle, as usual, but there were no notes, no explanations. Just silence. That makes two nights in a row that Matthew’s been here. I know Laura said she’d be seeing more of him this year, but I didn’t think it would be this often. It feels like he’s here more than I am. February 2 Well, it’s official. Laura and Matthew have decided—because apparently, it’s their decision to make—that diapers are now my “regular underwear” for the foreseeable future. No surprises there, I guess. This means I’ll be diapered full-time like a baby. When diapers aren’t practical, I’ll be in training pants, but even those will always be paired with plastic diaper covers. As for my beloved collection of panties? Gone. Laura said frilly ruffled panties will only be allowed on “special occasions,” though I have no idea what those might be. My panty drawer—once filled with lace, satin, and every pastel color under the sun—is now being replaced with stacks of plastic diaper covers and training pants. This is my new reality, apparently. Oh, and the diapers aren’t just for show. Laura made it clear that they’re to be used whenever possible. I’ve been hinting at it for a while now, so I guess I can’t say I didn’t see this coming. Honestly, it feels like the fantasy I’ve been dreaming of for years is finally becoming reality. But now that it’s happening, I can’t help but wonder—will I actually be happy living this way? Only time will tell. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi guys, here's one of my latest stories. You can read it now on Amazon Kindle Wife's New Boyfriend Is My New Daddy: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DSR2VKVB or check my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Claire's Regression: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DS2S4FXW You can also read Daisy's Perfect Summer: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DLVJYHH5 Here's a link to The Diary of a Diapered Cuckold: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPFLGMNJ

Just a short story I posted on FA a while back. I am currently writing another story in this world, so we'll see where that goes, but for now ... ----------- ALL CHARACTERS ARE AGED 18+ Best Day - An ABDL Story I lay in my crib, my eyelids heavy. Above me lies a sea of glow-in-the-dark stars, floating out of reach in the morning light. My nappy is thick around my thighs, my legs separated, pushed apart by the damp padding. It’s quiet, mostly, except for the sound of Daddy downstairs, making breakfast. The smell of warm porridge floats upstairs, under my door, and into my room, and my mouth begins to water. Food soon–it’s a big day ahead, and if I’m going to make the most of it, I need to be ready. I realise I don’t have my dummy, it must have fallen out in my sleep. Groggily, I turn over onto my belly, and come face-to-face with my dummy, it’s rubber nipple touching my nosie. I giggle a little, and suck the nipple until it wiggles it’s way back into my mouth again. Sucky sucky. I need to go wee wee, I can feel it in my tummy. But before I can stop or hold back, my nappy grows warm again, as fresh wetness is added. I could only just about press my legs together before, but it is impossible now. The nappy has soaked my little accident, and it feels so good. I moan happily, alone in my room, and wriggle about against the bed in my very soggy nappy. “Hey there, little one.” I hear, and stop wriggling. My door creaks open, and Daddy is there, standing in the light of the morning sun. “Is someone being a naughty little boy?” he walks over to my crib, and leans against it. He looks down tenderly at me, a little smile on his face. I grow all embarrassed, my face flushed and hot. “No!” I insist, through my dummy, “I a goowd boy!” “Well, my little stinkybutt, we’ve got a busy day ahead, haven’t we? We need to get ready.” I groan. “Can I shtay in bed a wittle wonger?” I ask, but daddy shakes his head. “It’s breakfast time now, and by the looks of it we still need to change your nappy, and get you dressed for the park.” “Is Wosie still coming?” I ask, and daddy smiles again. “She sure is. Think you want to have breakfast now?” he smirks, and I nod with a newfound energy. Daddy releases the side of my crib and helps me out of bed. I tail him with a waddle, comfortable in my onesie and thick night-time nappy, and follow him downstairs into the kitchen, where the smell of hot porridge and honey meets me. My dummy is taken away, and placed on the counter. I sniff the sweet smelling food, even as I’m helped into my colourful wooden high-chair, and my stomach grumbles. I hadn’t realised how hungry I was until now. Once I’m in my chair, Daddy sits across from me. He scoops up some porridge and zig zags the spoon toward my waiting mouth. I focus, ready to eat. “Neeeeoooowww,” Daddy says, mimicking an engine, “Here comes the aeroplane!” I open my mouth wide. The spoon comes at me quick. I’ve done this many times before, every day for twenty six years, but I always seem to miss. Daddy zags at the last minute, just as I go in for the bite. Porridge gets all over my mouth and my onesie. “Oh dear, I should have got you a bib, shouldn’t I?” daddy grins slyly, and I know he’s done it deliberately, surely I’m not that messy? A bib is quickly attached around my neck and I am given free reign over the spoon. The porridge is good porridge, sweet and filling, warm and gooey. Excited to get to the park, and see Rosie, I eat quickly and get a lot down me, but that’s what the bib is for, all that is expected of me–I can’t be trusted to eat sensibly after all. My face is a smeary mess of oat and honey. After I’ve had my fill, savouring the sweet taste of honey, Daddy comes and cleans me up a little. Without warning, he reaches down and squeezes my nappy, and I groan. “Mmmm.” he mumbles. Unsatisfied, he reaches around one of the leg-holes, pokes his finger inside my damp padding. “Yep, you’re soaked. Okay stinkybutt, time for changies.” And he lifts me out of my chair. My mind wanders to the day ahead, to the park, to Rosie, as I’m led into the bright living room. A mat is spread out, plastic and crinkly, and Daddy makes me lie down. “Daddy,” I ask as he snaps open my onesie, “Will Rosie’s daddy be there too?” “He sure will, Dan’s going to be talking with me, while our little babies play.” Daddy says as he enters the routine of morning changes. I see him blush a little. Daddy is the best, taking me to play with Rosie at the park, but I know he isn’t going just for me. I wonder sometimes why he doesn’t tell Dan how he feels, but I never ask him. It’s not my job to worry about such things. Daddy would definitely say the same. I’m too little right now to worry about that. He tears open the sides of my nappy, and hums a song–he does it whenever he’s excited. “What a soggy baby you are.” Daddy says. I look down at the yellowed padding, as air hits my bare waist. The inside is swollen with a night and morning wettings (and maybe a little bit of wee from before bed as well). Daddy says “Well, let’s get you freshened up.” And he begins to wipe my bottom and privates with a wet-wipe that’s cold against my skin. As Daddy changes me I day-dream about the park. I think about the twizzly red slide and how much fun it is to race down it. I think about the climbing frame, and how my nappy swings below me as I climb from bar to bar. I think, eagerly, about the sandbox, my absolute favoritest part of the whole entire park. Crawling about in the sand makes me feel so little, and making sandcastles and shifting sand about, and playing with my plastic car. “Woah there stinkybutt,” Daddy says, holding my legs still, “A little less wriggling please.” “Sowwy daddy.” I say, and try to contain my excitement as much as I can, as difficult as it is, and stop my legs moving. Without a word, Daddy lifts my legs, and knowing what’s next, I help by raising my bottom off the ground. A fresh nappy, all crinkly and soft, is slid under me, along with a generous sprinkle of powder. I suspect Daddy won’t want to change me at the park if he doesn’t have to, not that babies like me can help it of course. He’ll likely just leave me in my wet nappy for longer. I smile up to Daddy and he beams back. A fresh onesie comes next. It’s blue with a green t-rex on the front. “Arms up!” Daddy says and I obey, letting him slide it on me, and pull it around my fresh nappy. Then my dungarees. “Hop in!” Daddy says, and I obey, climbing into the jeans leg-by-leg, and leaning on Daddy’s shoulders for support. He snaps the buttons underneath my crotch together, checks the back is secure, and gives my padded bottom a firm pat. “What a cute butt you have.” he says, and I feel my face grow hot again. Sometimes I wish he wouldn’t do that, especially not in public. Yet, a part of me, deep down, wishes he’d do it more. I was very cute after all. If Daddy says so, it must be true! I am allowed to play in the living room with my toy car for a bit whilst Daddy packs, and makes sandwiches. “Jam please!” I say and he chuckles warmly, spreading far too much jam into my sandwich. When he’s finished I am given my dummy back, and we climb into the car. Daddy straps me into a big carseat, and I am given my fluffy teddy backpack to hold, and I put my red car inside it, whilst Daddy places a big bag with spare changes in the back of the car. Then, we are off. The park we were going to was through town, too far to walk, but close enough so it’s not a long journey. As we drive, my mind wanders absentmindedly to the road around me and all the cars. “Look, daddy! There’s a red one!” I point as it drives past. It matches the little red car I have in my bag. “Good boy!” Daddy says, keeping his eye on the road, “I bet you can’t count how many red cars you see?” “I can!” I insist, “I can count them all the way up to ten!” “Wow, that’s such a big number, I’m not sure you can count that high. You’ll have to show me you can.” I begin counting immediately. “1, 2…” I quickly find the stop-start of the traffic soothing enough that my eyelids grow heavy. It had been a really early start. Perhaps, if I just take a quick nap… “Alex… we’re here kiddo.” Daddy coos gently from the front of the car. Slowly, I open my eyes and begin to rub the sleep out of them. “It’s time to wake up Alex.” “I’m awake Daddy.” I say as I hear the crunch of stones beneath the car. “How many cars did I count?” “Oh, you got up to five! You were half-way there, kiddo.” he says and I grin broadly behind a big yawn. I’m getting good at counting. “Dan says he and Rosie are already here sweetie, see if you can find them while I park.” Immediately I jump up in my seat, suddenly more awake, and a lot more exited. I feel my waist grow a little warm, and realise that my excitement must have made me pee a little, but that’s what my protection is for, after all. I search the car park for Rosie and Dan. As we bump across the uneven surface, I scan each and every car until– “There they are!” I say and point to a man and woman about my age. Dan is tall, taller than Daddy, and his white t-shirt makes him bright in the summer sun. He has a back-pack on, and what looks like a heavy bag at his side, no doubt full of nappy supplies. Rosie, in her denim dungaree-skirt almost matches me, except her shirt is pink and not green. I wave at them as we pass, and they spot us and wave back. Rosie jumps up and down in the air, almost matching my energy. Daddy turns around and parks up next to them. Rosie is waiting impatiently as I leap out without thinking. “Alex!” she shouts back. Normally I’m not a fan of hugs, but for Rosie and Dan, I make an exception. We stay locked for a moment as our daddies greet eachother. “Do you want to go on the swings with me when we get there?” Rosie asks and I nod. “And the roundabout!” I say. “Hey Alex,” Dan says, towering over everyone. He ruffles my hair–I like it when he does that, it makes me feel all small and helpless. I shrink into myself shyly, quietly enjoying the attention. “Look at how tall you are! You must have grown loads since Rosie and I last saw you.” “Daddy says I haven’t.” I pout, “But I reckon I’ve grown a metre since then!” “Wow! A whole metre! I’m sure you have bud!” he ruffles my hair again. Suddenly I feel a tug from behind–Daddy has pulled back my dungarees and nappy. Without a word, he lets go and the elastic in my dungarees snaps back into place. “He’s a little wet, but I’m sure it’ll hold a little more.” “Rosie’s dry as a desert at the moment but…” their voices trail off as me and Rosie lead the way to the park. As we both walk slightly bow-legged from the thick (and already slightly damp) padding between our legs, we catch-up in the way that old friends do. Rosie tells me about their six-month visit to France, where they were helping Dan’s brother move house. “He had so much stuff!” Rosie says, hopping along beside me, “A bunch of old comics and books and things like that. She’s vastly more energetic than me, her excitement bubbling over into movement. I just grin and enjoy her company, and our daddies chatting idly behind us. “Uncle Will was showing me how to speak French too! You wanna hear?” “Sure!” I nod. “Jay sank grenools.” Rosie says it with the confidence of someone who definitely doesn’t know how to speak French. I hear our daddies chuckle from behind, their adult conversation quiet and distant, too important to interest me or Rosie. “That means ‘I have five frogs.’” Rosie says, beaming with pride. “Good girl!” Dan says, and gives her hair a ruffle like he did mine, and Rosie giggles. The park is busy when we arrive, with about twenty other people playing there, their minders sitting on benches at the side, chatting or watching. Most are older than me and Rosie, or about the same age, but almost all of them are dressed in the same infantile clothing. Some wear overalls or dungarees like us. One girl, who looks a little older than us, whizzes down the slide in a big fluffy tutu. Others wear only a t-shirt and nappy as they waddle around. Above us, clouds hover fluffy and white against a deep blue sky, stripes of shade and light move across the park as the clouds move ahead of the sun. There is a nice, cool breeze in the warm summer air. Me and Rosie look at eachother and grin, and almost escape our caretakers, before we’re both grabbed at the arm by Daddy. “Now, now,” Daddy says, spinning me back around. “Make sure you two behave yourselves.” he adjusts my clothing a little, and I can tell he’s giving me a quick nappy check. “Daaadddyyyy.” I protest, but he pulls my dungarees in place and makes sure they are fastened correctly, and finishes with a warm smile. “Boop.” he says, tapping my nose, and I can’t stop myself giggling. “There we are my love, ready to go play.” He gives my padded bottom a playful pat, and I’m off like a rocket. Me and Rosie spend the next hour in our own world. She spins me as fast as the roundabout goes, and I cling on to dear life as she runs beside it. After what feels like forever, I jump off and the world tumbles quickly around me. I reckon I must have peed a little more because when I fall all dizzily to the ground, I feel a squish. However, while my padded bottom survives, my unprotected hand scrapes across the ground. “Owie!” I say, tears building in my eyes, but Rosie knows what to do. She kisses my hand where the boo-boo is, and says: “That’s what my daddy does when I’m hurt, and he says it makes it all better.” And although it still hurts a little, it feels a little better now. We go to the slide, and I play a monster chasing Rosie up and down, and up and down. And then we switch roles, and she chases me, and I push myself down the slide to escape her. “Rawr!” she says with her arms in the air. “Ahhhh!” I half-scream-half-giggle madly. Our daddies talk idly as they push us on the swings. The bucket-swing is designed almost like a high-chair, and the seat comes up between my legs and around my waist as I’m lowered into it. My legs are spread apart, and my nappy is soft beneath me. I see the rush of ground beneath me, feel my stomach backflip as I fall back down toward Daddy and he pushes me back up. I look beside me, and Rosie is a blur of giggles. I look to the sky and feel like I’m flying as I almost reach the clouds, so high up, my feet dangling in the air. I feel so big, and so little. I feel so excited and completely at peace. I feel as if I am a part of the world, and have no power to stop whatever happens next, but I don’t mind. Daddy will be there to catch me if I fall. Eventually, as the park begins to empty, we make our way over to the sandbox. “Daddy,” I ask as he bends down to sit on the bench, “Can I have my car now?” Daddy gives a knowing look to Dan, who smiles back, as if they speak some silent language that I have no hope of understanding. “Well.” Daddy says, as he reaches into my bag, “Since you’ve been such a good boy today Alex, I suppose you can have it… Do you want to bring one over to Rosie as well?” I nod, and he pulls out two small plastic cars, red and blue. I take both and flop down into the sandbox, sending sand around me like dust. I ask Rosie which one she wants, and she takes a moment to decide. “Ummmm, the blue one!” she says eventually. We crawl about in the sandbox for what seems like hours. I feel the sand between my fingers as me and Rosie race our cars around the edge of the massive pit of sand. Some bright buckets and spades have been abandoned by many generations of visitors, and we use them to make sandcastles. “Here!” Rosie says, “I’ll hold the bucket while you put sand in.” She kneels beside the bucket and I nod, enthusiastically grabbing a spade and shovelling in sand. As we dig, Rosie’s gaze wanders over to her daddy. “Do you think they like eachother?” she asks. “Ummm, I think so.” I say, taking a break from digging to look over. They’re talking, laughing, their hands close to one another’s, so close to touching. “I think they both like each-other, but grown-ups don’t say what they want, they just pretend the other person can read their mind.” “Yeah.” Rosie agrees. “Grown-ups are silly. I really like being here with you Alex.” she smiles. I blush a little despite myself, and grin back. “Me too Rosie, I could do this forever and ever!” We go back to making our castles, and decide to make a wall and split the sandbox in half. One at a time, we fill up a bucket with sand, heave it over to the middle of the sandbox, and dump it in the centre. About half-way through, as Rosie squats down to pat on a bucket with her spade, she goes still. I see her face grow focused and turn red, and she grunts a little. After a little toot, I see the seat of her skirt grow ever-so-slightly. A final sigh reveals what she has done, and she falls back onto her bottom, and into the sand, as if nothing had happened at all. Almost in response, my own stomach cramps, but I ignore it. Why worry about something as silly as that? As I come over, she is patting on her bucket, whilst wriggling a little, a silly smile on her face. I toddle over in my soggy nappy, and flop down next to her. The smell hits my nose almost immediately, confirmation of the fresh mess Rosie has made, and I give her a knowing smile, trying not to laugh. “Hey, don’t be such a stinkybuttface!” she pouts and crosses her arms. “I’m not a stinkybuttface!” I protest, “You’re the one that’s just made a messy!” I can’t hold back a giggle, and neither can Rosie. We both fall into a fit of laughter as Little Miss Smelly and I return to our castle wall. Rosie and I shift sand, and fill buckets, and by the end of it, we’ve split the sandpit in half. I’m on one side, and she is on the other. But we’re not done yet. “Ready?” I ask as I stand ready. “Ready!” she says, and we both count down from three. “3, 2, 1!” we both say together, and jump as high as we can into the air, destroying the sandcastles as quick as we can. We jump from castle to castle, racing eachother to each end of the sandbox. But I don’t quite make it to the end. Suddenly, another cramp hits my stomach and I’m forced to stop and bend over, and fall into a squat. I know what’s about to come, and for a moment, I consider shouting for daddy. But, I know what he’d say: “Just use your nappy, that’s what it’s for.” So, I do just that. Without any more silly adult thoughts, I begin to push. I squeeze out a few farts before the main event. My poopie slowly moves out of me, I feel the end of it like a tail as it pushes against the back of my nappy. I push some more, grunting as the mess slowly fills my padded bottom, dropping into my seat. Quickly my nappy grows heavy. I pee a little too, the front of my nappy grows warm as it soaks up my wee, spreading across the front pleasantly. I look over to daddy, he’s talking in whispers with Dan, their faces close and smiling. But I haven’t quite finished going poopie. I glance over to daddy again, hoping he hasn’t seen me. Unfortunately, he has. I blush, and look away, determined to avoid his gaze as I finish my mess. I glance up again, and Daddy and Dan are on their way over, and I notice they’re holding hands. Daddy smiles broadly as he approaches. “Hey there stinkybutt, are you making a messy?” he says almost nonchalantly. “Nnnn,” I groan, “Noooo...” “Alex, what did we say about potty honesty?” He shoots me a look. I pause. “Are you making a poopie?” he repeats. Bashfully, I nod. “Have you finished?” “I … almost Daddy, nnnnn.” I push again and feel another little load drop into the seat of my dungarees. With a final toot, I say, “Ahhhh, I think I’m finished now.” “Good boy for being honest about making messies!” he ruffles my hair like Dan does, and I fall backwards onto a sandcastle, the sand squishing beneath with my fresh load. “Oh, I think we have another smelly bum over here!” Dan says, giving Rosie’s rear a sniff for confirmation. “Daaaaddddyyyyy…” Rosie blushes deep red, but I know she’s just as proud of her mess as I am of mine. “I think,” Daddy says, “It’s time for changies. Come on, let’s go back to the car.” “Awwwww.” Me and Rosie both deflate. We were having so much fun and now it looks like we’re going home. Even though I want more than anything to keep playing, it had been a long day. Even Daddy’s mention of the car makes me yawn deeply. “Come on.” Daddy says, patting me and Rosie on our mushy tooshies, “Let’s get you two stinky butts in some clean pants.” Me and Rosie hold hands, and hold our Daddies’ hands on either side, forming a chain as we make our way back to the car. Me and Rosie play about a little, dragging our heels, or jumping about, desperate to extend the day just a little bit more. But we arrive at the car all too quickly and suddenly the day has come to an end. “Lay down on the seat here.” Daddy instructs me, and Dan tells Rosie to do the same in their car, opposite. I lay down on a mat he’s spread out, and stare up at the fabric ceiling of the car, as Daddy unties my shoes, unzips my dungarees and takes them off, and exposes my dirty nappy to the world. From his bag, he pulls out wipes and a spare nappy. “Poooweee,” he says, and leans close. With a sly grin, he whispers in my ear, “Someone’s a stinky little boy.” And with that, he begins. Quickly, he tears off the tapes of my thoroughly used padding. He opens it up, revealing my messy bottom to everyone who would walk by. He takes out a wet-wipe, two, and I feel it’s cold touch against my skin for the second time today, as he wipes me down. Eventually, the dirty wipes are piled into my equally dirty nappy. “Bottom’s up.” he says and I raise myself off the mat so he can slide the nappy off and roll it up. In the car opposite, I see Dan finish cleaning Rosie, and he pulls her skirt down to cover her clean nappy. She hops out and watches as my change comes to an end. I see her smile through the gap, mirrored by Dan who stands with his hands on her shoulders. They watch me tenderly, and I feel suddenly sad, not knowing when I’ll see them again. Daddy sees me watching them. “You’ve been a very good boy today.” he says quietly, “And Rosie’s been a very good little girl.” he pauses. I frown as he slides a clean nappy under me, curious as to what he’ll say next. “Did you see me and Dan talking earlier?” he says eventually. “Yes Daddy. You were holding hands.” I smile, he blushes and looks away, and I smile even more, suspecting what they had been talking about. “Well, we were thinking … how would you like it if they came round for dinner? Tonight.” A broad grin creeps across my face. Almost without hesitation I nod excitedly, “Yes, yes!” “Haha, good!” Daddy does the last of the tapes on my nappy, tightening them up so my fresh padding is firm around my waist. He gives the front a pat. We all bundle into our respective cars, I am strapped back into my car seat, and I see Rosie shoot me one last glance from beyond her car’s window. She gets to sit in the front, next to Dan. Within moments, her car slides past ours, and drives away, and we follow. Sunlight sparkles through the trees alongside the road, and Daddy hums some tune I don’t know. I don’t really listen, and his humming becomes another noise in the car, but a noise of comfort, and safety, and love. I only suckle on my dummy, and lay quiet and still and thoughtful, as the car shakes beneath me. As I lay snuggly strapped into my car seat, I imagine tonight, and all the time with Rosie and Dan yet to come. I imagine Daddy and his smiling eyes. And I am truly, utterly, happy. THE END.

All the thanks to SarahBearah for spending days of her free time to help me out and proof read and edit. This is an intense story and all characters well past 18. Kneeling at the Altar The concrete floor of the old church was cold against the sissy’s knees. The poor thing shivered from the memories of humiliation and non-stop abuse he had taken as his betters defiled him in the fourteenth-century building. The sissy could not help but stare up at the hand-crafted architecture with the old religious adornments having been changed to crosses with men and women chained to them. Tapestries now hung from the thick supporting columns depicting the servitude of submissives to their superiors. Adding to the sissy’s foreboding, was the ominous new piece of equipment currently hidden behind a heavy velvet curtain. The sissy had been racking his brain since he had been left kneeling facing a mirror showing him his own ridiculous reflection with the mysterious item just visible in the periphery. No doubt, his owner left him positioned in just a way to be constantly just in view as he knew the consequences of failing the order “sissy slut Lottie, eyes forward!” The other cause of the knot twisting in his stomach and, much to the sissy’s shame, leaking from his sissy bump was the ridiculous outfit picked for him. Pure white stockings were attached to a lace-trimmed long-lined suspender belt deliberately a size too small to force his waist into a more feminine shape. Just below the lace tops of the stockings sat a pair of poofy frilly lace garters. For each one, the sissy had been ordered to add a huge satin bow, and just to make his position known, in the center of each garter was a silver ring with “sissy” spelt in the center of the ring with the one on his left leg having “faggot” spelt out in the fancy script. The sissy's feet had been forced into a pair of shiny black mary jane style heels. Each was locked on with a heart-shaped lock picked from the huge stack he was made to “bedazzle” with pink imitation diamonds on one of his precious days off from work. If the shiny locks didn’t make Lottie feel pathetic enough, the heels were seven inches tall with the thinnest stiletto heel he had seen. This left the sissy unable to manage little more than a tottering sissy mince as he walked. Long, glossy, white satin gloves covered his arms up to mid-bicep, where huge bows with long ribboned tails not only decorated the glove ends but held them in place. Rather than his usual over-the-top sissified “bra,” this time his freshly waxed chest was wrapped with an intricate pattern of criss crossing ribbon from two heart-shaped metal rings framing his puffy and clamped nipples. Master has taken great delight in showing his ‘pansy-ass bitch’ the set of matching hot pink nipple clamps attached together by a chain. Dead center of the chain was welded a hand-crafted tag expertly forged to match the Barbie font of her iconic logo. In baby pink it read “SISSY CUMRAG!” The sissy still blushed when the tag caught her eye and he saw that the letter ‘I’ was a spunking cock. A white, satin apron embellished with “sissy toilet” in hot pink stitching was tied over the top of a custom-designed French maid style dress. The short skirt and skin-tight bodice were made with a see-through PVC which had been tinted Barbie Pink. The PVC of the dress had been moulded to fit snuggly from his tummy up to his chin where it was locked in place with another of the bedazzled padlocks. From the waist, the PVC had been stiffened and double-layered to poof out at nearly a 50-degree angle. To top it off the dress had large puff-balls shapes at the shoulder and, despite the ridiculousness of the dress and humiliation of wearing it, just seeing it being pulled from his closet for his daily dressing made the sissy drench his panties in pre cum. To top off his humiliation were first the locked, bright-red rubber pants. With frills on the rump and “failed man” written on the front, again self “bedazzled” with pink jewels. He had also been made to add tiny bells along the hem of each lace-covered leg hole, giving his mincing walk the pathetic jingle of a lowly jester. But its bulk made it obvious he was wearing more than one diaper underneath. Usually, his diapered state was hidden. Or, at least, he would normally need to bend or swish to show it. But, today, the fact he was a diaper-wearing prissy was on full display and spelt out for all to see. Master had shown him just the day before how much he loved to torment his favorite pansy. When the sissy’s usual waxer had to cancel due to an emergency. Master kindly found a place that could squeeze him in. The sissy remembered gushing his thanks to his Master whilst being hidden in a quiet area of his work’s second storey offices. However, when the sissy checked the saloon address, it was literally in the concourse under his very feet. To make it worse still, Master added the extra humiliation of forcing the Sissy to tell all of the staff at the salon why he was already ninety nine percent hairless and “wanting to look his best”: because “when not at work he dressed up as a sissy gurl to please real men, and this Saturday was going to be a special night.” It had been too much for the sissy and he had to spend the entire appointment apologising for his very leaky and tightly-imprisoned sissy bump. The girls at the saloon had kindly offered to do his makeup and style his hair for free if he came in dressed, but his owner had said the sissy could decline this time. Instead, the sissy’s wife had given him a very girly look with dramatic pink eyes and plumped-up glossy lips. Speaking of the sissy’s wife… Sissy gently tapped the wooden box that was next to him in which his wife of five years was currently bound and locked inside of. Both are now lifelong slaves, the twisted story of how they ended up together is a story for another time. But they truly cared for each other deeply and understood each other's dark needs. When being used for their Master’s pleasure or at events like this one, the pair would make slight gestures to each other to show that they’re ok and loved each other. The tap back confirmed she was all good. Knowing her, her love for being Master’s “cunt” and a total pain whore who enjoys being used for others’ pleasure, sissy knew full well that the anticipation and fear of what might happen tonight would be driving her wild as she lay totally immobile inside her wooden prison. Bitchy The minutes slowly ticked by. As sissy Lottie knelt trying to remain still as the event organizers and helpers, the Dominants called them “minions”, carried the large pieces of bondage furniture into place. While others were on tall ladders as they added the decoration and mood lighting for later. The sissy sighed in relief as the man he only knew as ‘Barman’ (because a lowly sissy shit like Lottie wasn’t deemed worthy by the brat of a barman to know his actual name) decided to put her to work cleaning all the glasses. “You know what will happen if I find smears,” he threatened. “Yes, Sir, I will do it perfectly,” sissy maid Lottie replied in his best high and lispy girl voice he was expected to use. Though, Lottie knew nothing would happen to him as Barman was a sub, too. So, it would be him that felt the taste of a belt from his own fearsome Dom and his chest of toys. Still, his Master would be very disappointed if he found out and it was always best to avoid such fates. As the pansy checked and cleaned each glass, he couldn’t help but marvel at the great work done to the upper floors of the old building. The main upper balcony had once held rows of pews had been converted into a stylish bar with multiple tables laid out with crisp linen tablecloths and handy hooks and rings to secure a sub too. The sides of the first floor had been divided up into private playrooms with each being decorated for a particular fetish. The top floor had been converted into more playrooms. Each being much darker BDSM spaces and where a few highly respected Dominants had personal rooms. The sissy diligently wiped each glass to a sparkle, amusing himself as he watched Barman playing with the massive display wall. It should be showing the live feeds of all the cameras in some of the back rooms and the dozen covering the main floor. If something particularly caught the attention of those drinking up on the balcony the display would be changed to show off that stream. The main area below had an identical screen, and it wasn’t uncommon for entire parties to stop and watch and cheer along if one stream got particularly good! With only a few glasses left to clean. Master’s deep voice filled sissy Lottie’s ears. “There you are, you worthless fairy. At least you're managing to be useful for once!” Still holding the glass and rag, Lottie spun around and knelt. Keeping her eyes down. “Sorry Master, sissy Lottie was instructed to clean the glasses by the bar staff. I wouldn’t dare move from where I was left otherwise.” “Better you’re put to work than be a statue. Here I feared you’d be a waste of space. With those noodles for arms a child’ be more useful carrying the equipment around” “Sorry Sir, sissy Lottie does try her best.” the sissy replied. “As you should, but I need you for another role and the bar staff can do their own job,” Master said his voice dripping with menace as Barman suddenly found a spot on one of the liquor bottles that needed polishing Without a further word Master turned heel, whistling at his sissy, like one would do to signal their dog to heel and walked off. Scrabbling to his feet, sissy Lottie tottered along as quickly as the seven-inch heels allowed. Barman was laughing hysterically as sissy Lottie stumbled, having to grab a chair to avoid crashing face first into the floor. “Oh, wow! You’re a total sissy bitch.” Barman exclaimed. “I have never seen any man with as little self-respect as you! Quick! You're falling behind little doggy.” Barman continued before laughing more as he continued to polish things. The words stung hard; sissy Lottie knew what a totally needy sissy gurl he had become. Just a trained pet so totally dependent on his owner, he would barely qualify as a beta male. Still, it was painful to hear another beta male call him out on it. So engrossed with his thoughts, the sissy minced straight forward, head down, only looking up at the last second. Too late, as he crashed into Master. The silly sissy falling onto his padded bum. “And you are so tough” Master snarled at Barman, his voice thick with venom. “You are at best a little bitch boi who thinks he’s free to be the class bully as his dad donates a small fortune to the school. You are all mouth until you get slapped like the punk ass faggoty cock sucker you are. Then, you run to your Master and hide behind his coattails snivelling like a two-year-old who dropped his ice cream.” As Master continued this verbal tirade, the dominant man reached down petting his sissy in comfort. “What do you think will happen when the newer prettier bubble butt femboy walks in and catches Phillip’s eye. What use will you have then?” Master said sternly to Barman. “My sissy bitch may be a pathetic excuse for a man, with a dick smaller than a eunuch, but he does everything he can to make me happy no matter how degrading or painful it is. Can you say the same?” With that, Barman’s smile was wiped clean from his face and he went back to polishing the final glasses. With just a whistle Master turned and stomped off. As quickly as he could, Lottie got back to his feet giving the teary-eyed bartender a satisfied grin. Lottie then quickly tottered away trying to keep up with her owner. Numnutts The stairs were a struggle in heels a stripper might say were too much. The poor thing was fretting about how painfully slow each stair was. He was forced to hang on to the handrails and carefully step down onto each step-in turn, worried the slightest slip in concentration or footing would surely end in a fall that could break his neck. Despite wearing heels of various sizes daily for over a decade, unless the floor was even, he was still as graceful as a newborn giraffe. With a few steps left to descend, the sissy risked a glance and instantly regrating it as she saw Master waiting, impatiently glancing at his watch with his ever-present walking cane in hand. “Hurry up sissy. I have not got all day” he taunted. “Some of us learnt to use stairs before we worked out how not to piss our pants. Then again…” Master motioned to the large diaper bulge at sissy’s waist “I'm not sure you learnt that, either.” “I'm so, so sorry Master. sissy Lottie doesn’t want to damage my Master’s property.” “If you don’t hurry up, I will come up and give you some motivation, little miss smart mouth.” “Thank you, Master,” he replied looking up again and couldn’t help but grin seeing the wry smile on Master’s handsome face. There weren’t many men sissy Lottie did find an attraction to, on any level. But of those that were her ‘type’ Master was the prototype. A head of dark, thick hair and a well-groomed, full beard with a strong, defined chin. Built like a Rugby prop forward, with large, slab-like hands with big bear-like arms and legs. But not like the bodybuilders, more like those old-school bikers. Lottie had to admit, he likes big powerful thighs on both men and women. The sissy also loved how manly he dressed. Always those boots the sissy spent hours making sure were polished to a gleaming shine. The three-piece suit with a crisp white shirt that Lottie had ironed to a military parade standard. Lottie’s wife regularly pointed out how much of a cliche he was for being a bottom to everything he was not. The pansy was already super self-conscious of his thinning hair with grey coming in already. He couldn’t gain muscle. It was like his body knew how much of a waste of testosterone he was and no matter the exercise he remained thin with weak limbs and every nice treat instantly giving him a beer belly. “Wake up, dumb ass,” Master said, tapping the sissy’s butt with his cane to awaken the sissy from his daydream. “At times I swear rocks are more useful than you. But they can prop open doors and be used to create a wall, and they don’t need food and water. Nor do they need constant validation… they are not a total waste of existence. Unlike you” “Sorry Master”, sissy Lottie apologised, “for being such an airheaded cock sucker.” he whimpered. Rolling his eyes, Master grabbed hold of the ring on the front of the leather collar locked around Lottie’s throat and dragged him squealing as he desperately tried to move quickly enough not to fall flat on his face. Somehow, he managed to keep up but was blushing a deep red at every pair of eyes turning to stare at how much of a pansy he was in his comical get up. The sissy could feel he was being led towards the front door. His eyes began to water, fearing anyone able to see him diapered and sissified. As they stepped through into the atrium the sissy let out a squeal of fear as he could only bite his tongue to stop from saying anything. “Ok, sissy. Your job is simple. Stand by the door and check everyone’s ticket.” Master explained, stopping next to a large man sitting in the corner taking up a third of the small room. The man handed over a small serving tray to Master. The sissy stood in silence trying to void the thoughts of being made to kneel between the two alpha men, As Master attached chains from the furthest corners of the tray to the ring hanging from his collar, as the large man pulled the strap from the other corners tight as a corset around his waist. “If they have a green band, send them upstairs. If not, stamp their hand with the stamp and let them in,” Master pointed to a stamp the other man placed on the tray. “If they’re not dressed like they are coming to a kink party, tell ‘um to fuck off” Master pauses for a moment. “Numnutts will deal with anyone who might be an issue.” The big bear of a man nodded his head as he sat back on the chair, while Master linked the wrist cuffs to a short chain running under the tray. “Do you think you can handle this, sissy? That is, if your silly sissy brain stops thinking about cock for long enough!” Master opened the door ready for the guests, which also allowed the outside world to get a glimpse of sissy Lottie. “What if people see me in this? What if gets out I'm a sissy...” sissy Lottie started to babble. “If anyone does see you, they will be too busy laughing at what a sissy mess you are to recognize you. That is if they can see you from over a hundred yards away.” Master sneered. “I think even if you got out the back of a Rolls, in a custom-fit Armani tux, a Cuban cigar in one hand and whiskey in the other, and with a hot bird on either arm. A three-year-old could still point out that you’re the biggest sissy in the room.” The sissy winced as his clitty leaked slightly into his diaper as Master’s demeaning words resonated throughout the church prompting humiliating sniggers from the many staring minions finishing the final touches for the night ahead. “Also, you stand inside, stupid.” He added. As Lottie thought more about being found out, panic started to set in. The sissy’s eyes began to tear up again and his breathing started getting ragged. Master, always incredibly perceptive, immediately turned to Lottie. “Calm down sissy. Stop using your pee brain and do as you're told. I will always protect you.” Master said, and then repeated it calmly, as he rubbed the back of his sissy’s neck until the pansy relaxed and started to breathe normally again. “Now you can either stand here and be some use or I can hang an entrance sign around your neck and tie you to the car park gate, so our guests know where to go. What will it be?” Numnutts roared with laughter as the sissy head dropped at the fear of being tied to the gate while the chastity cage pinched against his clitty as it tried to get hard at the thought of the ultimatum. “Please, Master, sissy Lottie is sorry he is so dumb and worthless. Please let me take tickets.” With a sigh of relief from Lottie, Master closed the door and then pointed to the floor. Lottie enthusiastically knelt. Head bowed, feeling the weight of the tray. When he finally noticed the chain between his wrists was so short, that to stamp tickets he will have to stretch with one hand, as the other would be pulled tight against the tray. “You’re all set. Due to fire risk, we can't add another chair! So, you will just have to sit on his knee or maybe persuade him to stand for a bit.” Master grinned, pointing at Numnutts with a wink. Numnutts smiled and patted his knee as sissy Lottie stared in shock. “Sit,” the giant said sweetly, again patting his knee. Looking up in desperation he saw Master still grinning back. “Sit down you diapered loser.” this time the large man growled as he clicked his fingers impatiently. Feeling another thread of the few remaining fibers of his masculinity fade away the sissy perched on the man's giant thigh. He couldn’t help being shocked at how much weight he had lost. Before Master he had been podgy but, now, his twin could easily have a seat too. As they waited in silence the strong, spicy musk of a real man wafted to the pansy’s delicate nose. He squirmed as he felt his clitty start to leak and try to swell against the cage. Glancing to see if the man noticed, his eyes grew wide as he spotted the giant’s monster cock obscenely visible in his very tight leather trunks. With a squeal of fright, he turned to stare at the door, willing it open. The silence between the pair remained as the tension rose with no break from anyone entering the church of debauchery. The sissy could sense the giant building up the courage to make a move. The thought brought a smile to his face. While he might be a worthless peon on the bottom rung. His owner was someone this guy not only respected but even feared doing the wrong thing to one of his toys. It must have been fifteen minutes before he felt a hand brush against the plastic skirts of his dress. He could hear the heavy breathing getting faster as the hand pushed underneath and rubbed the frills of the plastic pants covering his diapers. He could hear them crinkle bringing heat to both sets of the sissy's cheeks. The heavy rosewood door opened and a pair of immaculately dressed ladies swished into the entranceway. Stiletto heels clacked angrily on the stone floor. Sissy Lottie jumped up quicker than when his parents caught him rummaging in his mum's top draw all those years ago. “I think we disturbed them,” The blonde said with a devilish grin as her friend laughed. Unable to look the obvious goddess in her eyes, the pansy could only stare at a spot on the floor as he mumbled, “Please may I see your tickets.” “Hey bitch one and bitch two, you hear what the sissy slut said?” the blonde sneered looking out the door. The sissy peaked to see who the mistress was talking to. Standing outside the door was a pair of fellow sissies, both fully dressed in matching over-the-top satin dresses, covered in huge amounts of lace and bows. Feeling a pang of the humiliation of being dressed even more outlandishly than even these two new sissies, in the middle of the afternoon, and visible by passerbys, sissy Lottie looked back down, but curtsied and repeated “Please may I see your tickets.” loud as he dared. “Oh tickets. Here you are, poofter.” the blonde said placing four tickets on the table strapped to his body. “Thank you …. Mistress” he stuttered quickly, tearing the stubs off and returning them. He was thankful no one fussed around the hand stamps and let out an audible sigh of relief when they all walked into the venue. Numnutts remained silent throughout, but as the sissy went to perch back on his knee he reached out and forcefully dragged him to sit mid-thigh. The sissy yelped in shock, stumbling on the stripper heels and feeling his diaper squish against the hunk of solid flesh. Letting out an audible squeak, the sissy went to slide back towards the relative safety of the man's knee when Numnutts massive paw grabbed his unprotected thigh and squeezed tight. To the sissy's distress, his little clitty throbbed at the simple act of dominance as he was once again shown he was no longer in control of his own life. As he stared up into Numnutts’ eyes, dark as the purest coal, Numnutts simply shook his head to imply “no” and squeezed a little harder. “Ok, ok. I won't move” the sissy whimpered, knees spread open by the huge bulging diaper. The vice-like grip Numnutts had on the sissy was overwhelming. “I will be a good gurl for you!” the sissy whispered, even shuffling closer so his nylon-covered knee now rubbed against the impressive bulge between Numnutts’ legs. Thankfully the large hand slowly relaxed its grip and, eventually. let go. Numnutts then started to rub his hands up to where he could squish the diaper tight against the pansy’s locked-up sissy bump before sliding back down to the poof’s knee. The sissy couldn’t ignore how small it made him feel daintily sitting on a lap as the large rough hands of a true man enjoyed his newly waxed legs and silk stockings. It didn’t take long for the attention to get to the sissy. His very full sissy egg sacs were tingling with a need to be emptied. As the pathetic waste of flesh that he had once called a dick pulsated, pushing desperately against its long-term prison, started filling the front of his diaper with a sticky mess of precum. When the door suddenly opened, sissy Lottie’s mind was awash with the pleasure of being pathetic and was brought back to reality. He disappointedly got up to greet the couple who entered. They started to pepper him with questions. Lottie couldn’t answer fast enough and more guests started to show up. Sissy Lottie tried to quickly deal with the growing line of kinksters as fast as he could. The only thing on Sissy’s mind when doing this was how much he wanted to go back to the attentive hands of Numnutts. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked up, he could feel the dark eyes staring up and down his long feminine legs as they strained to keep him upright in the towering heels. He did a quick glance back and noticed the hungry eyes transfixed on the back of his ruffled butt as the hard lump in the tight trucks grew bigger. The sissy turned back around terrified of what might happen. “What am I thinking” the sissy muttered shaking himself from the daydream. He was supposed to be a man. He wasn’t into pretty dresses and high heels. He hated the bondage and being used by others for pleasure. He was being FORCED to do all this stuff. But, above all else, he hated the constant sexual and mental torment he had suffered over the years. “Definitely forced,” he said aloud to a confused patron who walked away after getting his hand stamped. “I'm going to stand for a while.” the sissy said trying to sound confident. “My err I need to stretch my legs, err for a bit.” Numnutts remained silent and just unblinkingly stared at him. The sissy tried to stare back but quickly lost his nerve, looked down and saw the large python hidden in the giant's trunks and his tiny clitty started to ache in its steel prison. Feeling his entire body go red in shame, the sissy turned around and faced the far wall. For five minutes, the tension slowly increased. Yet, neither moved nor spoke. However, all too soon, Numnutts got bored and a Popeye-like forearm wrapped around sissy’s waist pulling the sissy back to the corner as he offered a very feminine and pathetically weak squeak of protest. The big hands explored around his girly body, feeling all the different textures of the items he wore. The sissy wriggled on the bigger man’s lap, the hands felt so good squeezing and stroking all over. The combination of the sissy’s thick diaper and Numnutt's tight leather trunks kept the monster’s cannon contained. Any time the door opened and new guests arrived, the pansy would go red as the sissy fog would clear slightly as his Masters’ orders rang in his ears, and he did not want to disobey any orders from the Dom. As he welcomed the guests, sissy would never look up from his attached table as he was too embarrassed to look the person in the eye. As time drew on, Numnutts was less and less willing to give his prey up. The later arriving guests got a mini show as they were greeted with the poor sissy being manhandled by the hulking beast, followed with a lisping and begging faggot, pleading to be let go accompanied by promises that he would return for more once he had let the guests in. Each time the powder puff of sissiness arose, the feeling of multiple eyes looking at him would turn him redder than a boy caught masturbating by his mother. Worse still, his poor, stimulated sissy stick would ache deep in its prison. Most guests politely didn’t mention his now dishevelled state and the heavy musk of male arousal. A few openly laughed at the poor puppet desperately trying to pretend he wasn’t enjoying being handled that way or the not-so-manly yelp when the horny Numnutts would pull him back onto the hard lump in his trunks and continue his fondling. The poor powder puff was so overstimulated and in a dreamy state, he had barely even noticed Masters' approach, until he heard his deep, booming laugh. “Why do you insist on claiming you’re straight? Constantly whining to anyone who will listen that I ‘force you’ into being a gay, cock-loving faggot. But even when I left to stand by the door, you’re such a dick-slut that you’d gladly pay every man you could find to ride his dick!” The sissy could feel the crowd of people turning to stare at the pathetic faggot. The acid tongue of his beloved Master publicly shaming him only made his sissy bulge push further against its cage. Numnutts could sense his time with his new toy was growing short and pulled him tighter, grinding into the sissy’s padded posterior. The giant’s huge member was like a tree trunk hidden in his pants. The constant rutting was making the sissy’s minuscule cock leak even more into the pillowy diapers wrapped snugly around him. Then, to the poor sissy panty waist’s worst fears, he could feel the tension growing from inside, brought on by how pathetic and humiliated he was in front of everyone looking and laughing at him being in this such a situation, having been scolded by his Master. Suddenly, Master yanked on his collar pulling him up and away from Numnutts. The lack of control over where he was going next sent sissy over the edge. The pansy let out a high-pitched, orgasmic scream as his body shuddered and collapsed to the floor in a haze of a massive sissygasm, as small bursts of cum entered his diaper from his tightly caged clit. Prepared Numnutts quickly launched himself from his chair. Everyone was able to see the concern written all over his face as he stroked the arm of his new ‘friend’. “Just when I think you can't reach new lows” Master muttered as he crouched next to the passed-out sissy checking he was ok. A few moments later the sissy came too and quickly noticed the throng of people staring down at him as a large paw rubbed up and down his arm. “I swear you just can’t help but make a spectacle of yourself. Remember when you covered that poor lady with wine in the restaurant and ended up with well spanked panty covered ass on full display in the corner for all to see” Master berated while giving the sissy’s hand a squeeze. The sissy looked up at his owner, the sissy part of his brain giving a bashful smile. For a moment the sissy could feel a warm tingling all over. Then his vanilla part of his brain kicked into overdrive at the horror of the sniggers and chortles from the group of kinksters looking over him. Shame washed over him like a bucket of icy water dropped in surprise and the sissy shoulders drooped and head hung in defeat. “How low can a man get? Spanked on his skinny white ass while wearing frilly knickers!” A curvy, African Domme snorted as she looked down at the beet-red sissy. Lottie could only blush as the pair of frilly sissy bois sniggered until the Domme silenced them with a tug on their short frill leashes “Could he be more pathetic?” one of the bois lisped, as the crowd chuckled. “Mz Cleopatra, your bois are a delightful pair of faggots. Who I have enjoyed using vigorously. This one takes it to even lower depths.” Master pointed at the sissy at his feet. “We should talk about when I let you and your slut wife out to celebrate your wedding. Tell the nice folks what happened?” Master smiled, his eyes sparkling with mischievous energy. “Master, no. Pleeease!” the effeminate ex man whimpered, flipped around with cat-like grace to kneel before his constant tormentor. Without a care he knelt down, squishing his chest to the floor, as he pathetically kissed Master’s shiny boots in a vain attempt to stop his shameful secret being told. “The nice people want to hear what happened little faggot. You have five seconds to start talking or you will be left in a pillory on the front lawn with some rotting tomatoes and a sign around your neck begging the public to throw them at you!” Master said, poking the sissy away from his boots. The sissy pondered if an afternoon in the pillory might be a better fate than whatever Master had planned. He looked up to see Master mouth “four” silently at him. A blind panic set in and the sissy whispered. “We had a dinner out where I wore my wife’s wedding lingerie under a white, tailored, ladies’ suit I wore for the wedding. I ended the night in just the underwear, licking cum from my cunt wife's fuck holes.” the sissy offered, mortified at the stifled giggles and looks of disgust and cringe from the growing crowd. “No, no. I'm not going to let you off with half stories. I am sure these nice people want to know the real juicy humiliation of that night.” Master said as the crowd roared “YES!” With tears in his eyes, unable to look up he spoke soft but clear “The men knew how much of a sissy I was.” Sissy whimpered, and then continued “I personally placed every dick into her so she was airtight with cock for several hours...” The sissy stopped at the crowds' loud cries of laughter and audible gasps. “Finish, sissy boi!” Master barked. The sissy dropped his head in defeat “sissy Lottie is so pathetic he had a sissygasm each time I touched those real men’s cocks, Master” In unison the crowd roared with laughter and a few even applauded the lows he had achieved. “May I borrow this?” Master asked Mz Cleopatra, pointing at the spare over-the-top frilly lead hanging from the belt of her latex dress that currently defied physics, as it somehow covered her plump ass and thighs all while managing to keep her massive boobs from bursting free. “Gladly” she almost purred in reply. “Thank you, kind lady,” Master replied, taking the lead before approaching the quivering and teary sissy. “Why must you cause these scenes? I am going to be late.” Master clipped the leash to the collar. “You know I will make you sorry if you mess up my schedule.” He growled menacingly as he yanked the sissy to his feet and marched right down the middle of the ground floor towards the expanded vestry where Master's private room was. The fast pace was too quick for the pansy, who flailed her arms in a desperate attempt to keep balanced, as her heels clacked on the hard floor while she was forced into a mincing run to keep up. Master checked his watch as they moved. “You have made me late, you ditzy fool. I think your brain is in those tiny thimbles you once called nuts.” Master ranted, annoyed his tightly run ship was now behind schedule. “For every second I am late I will cane your feet. Maybe then you will remember to stay upright on them and do your task and not get hot and heavy with the slave crew.” “Of course, Master. This sissy needs to be corrected for messing up Master’s plans.” the sissy replied with a quiver in his voice and a tear in his eye. Watching carefully, sissy then saw Master open a large cardboard box. Master pulled out a brand-new gag from the box. Trying to appease the irate Master, the sissy opened wider than he would at a dentist, to accept the hard plastic of the plug gag. It forced his jaw wide, with only a simple bathroom plug on a short chain stopping anything being forced in his mouth. Vindictively, Master cinched the strap a notch tighter than usual as the sissy grunted in pain. Master quickly pulled a hot-pink, leather blindfold in place. Again, tightening the strap a little tighter than usual. The sissy knew not to move as he felt powerful fingers pulling the leather into position around his head, before the familiar click of padlocks snapping shut. Muttering to himself about time and lateness, he unlocked the collar the sissy was wearing before hurriedly jerking the zip of plastic dress down. The rough handling in the darkness was causing the sissy to tremble as his little sissy pecker leaked even more of its watery pansy milk in anticipation of what was to happen. The dress was yanked off his head and he was slammed back against his Masters stout body. Thick fingers found the nipple clamps and Master pulled on the linking chain stretching the sissy's poor, aching nipples. “You dirty attention whore!” he growled, his voice low and intimidating. Poor sissy Lottie could only squirm in a vain attempt to reduce the burning pain as his flesh was stretched to its limit. Balling his fists in pain, he knew how much of a weak pussy boi he’d become because his fists remained firmly at his sides, not moving to stop his Master at all, and only muffled girlish squeals escaped from behind the gag. Master dropped the chain grinning at how just the weight of the “sissy” tag hitting the poof’s chest made him jump. “You're such a pussy.” he taunted, laughing as the sissy’s head dropped in shame. “But still, you’re an important part of tonight’s show, some might even call you the headline act! But tonight, you will defiantly be the star attraction like the attention seeking sissy panty waisted whore you are!” He exploded with laughter as the sissy 'looked’ at him while blindfolded and gagged, but Master could still feel the look of shock and horror as his body visibly shivered. “Oh yes, my pansy baby gurl. Just think of all those eyes as you show them all what a ‘big, tough man’ you are.” Master continued undoing the ribbon ‘bra’ and swiftly pulling the nipples clamps free. Master enjoyed seeing the sissy do a little jig as the poof forced his arms to remain by his sides. “You know I was going to be kind and let you work the door and stay nice and invisible. Numnutts I'm sure will be unhappy as his Lord and Lady promised he could have some relief for all the hard work he put in at the manor.” As Master continued, the sissy was still standing completely still as his poor sissy tits burnt from the clamps being on so long. “Arms up” Master paused his taunting. “I do hope he won't take it out on you later” The sissy obeyed as he panicked inside at the thought of that huge python, he was forced to rub against all afternoon almost certainly would be forced down his throat. As the thought of sucking off yet another man filled his sissy brain, the sissy offered no resistance as a soft satin dress was pulled over his head and it practically flowed over his arms and body. It was obvious from how the bodice of the dress hugged him snug in all the right places, that Master had the shortie dress custom made. It was made for him as the bodice was tight but not undersized. He could feel his cheeks go red from the huge puffy sleeves being secured by ribbons tied tight with a bow. He could feel the built in petticoat giving the dress some poof and swish as Master moved the dress around, fastening the ribbons around his waist and neck, but he could sense it barely covered the top of his diaper. Hype Sissy “You do remember how late we are, Sissy bitch. Get your head out of the clouds.” Master barked, obviously annoyed. Quaking in fear of over five hundred lashes of a cane, sissy Lottie meekly spread his legs and, as daintily as he could, stepped out the rubber panties leaving the obviously-used diaper now completely visible. “I am not touching in there you dirty fucking prissy pansy. I dread to think what you leaked. Attach this to your cage.” Master demanded placing the clip of the leash in his hand. Wondering what other new lows, he would reach in self-degradation as he held the diaper open as much as he could muster. He breathed in as much as he could, so he could reach in the damp and cooling diaper to clip the leash to the ring on the tight metal prison in which his sissy ‘bump’ remained shrinking away. “Oi enough of that. Your pathetic baby dick is worthless and no need to be touching it that long” Master shouted, grabbing his wrist and yanking his hand out the damp diaper. The sissy blabbered an apology around the gag as he felt the satin cuffs of mincing ribbons being attached around his ankles. To try and win some compassion he held out arms so Master could easily secure the ribbons to his wrists. Finally, he felt headbands being changed and while the new one was hardly heavy, he could tell from the weight it was the comically huge PVC bow atop his head like a sissy tiara. “Ok sissy, time to get this party started…” Master checked his watch “...over ten minutes late. A dumb ass like you can't count past five so I will do the maths for you and I make that six hundred and twenty-three seconds you made me late by, you dumb cunt.” Then, without another word spoken, the sissy felt the double yank on his bump in warning as Master strode off. Sissy Lottie tottered behind like a new born gazelle, blindly grasping for anything to support him. He stumbled forward in the curtain as he struggled with the small incline up to the stage. The heat of the lights hit. It was like walking outside on a warm, Summer’s day from a nice and cool air-conditioned office. Then the roar of the crowd as he was forced to mince in circles with the exaggerated hip swings and arms out to the side with limp wrists, for the amusement of the crowd. “Teapot” Master shouted over the laughing crowd. Sissy Lottie burnt in shame as he proceeded to do the dance of, I’m a little teapot, as he struggled to say the nursery rhyme through the gag and with the tube in his mouth. As he got close to the end his stomach dropped as he got no order so just started again. Then again. And again. And again. It was the start of the fifth time. His arm bent, hand on hip. His body posed with legs bent and arm of the spout his wrist flopped over like the prissiest of all the sissy’s when Master thankfully ordered “Pause”. The sissy froze in place leaning to the side ‘mid pour’. Master started to give an introduction to the first presentation but sissy then got distracted by the overly loud ‘whispers’ of two ladies closest to him. “Oh, my good look at the.... well, I am not sure if you can call that a dress.” the first exclaimed with fake shock. “I think I’ve seen tops longer. Maybe he stole it from a little girl. Look at those hearts… and you could smuggle a pumpkin in those sleeves.!” the other replied “I would agree, but look closer in the hearts.” “What do you mean, May?” “See. This heart says ‘bimbo’, that one says ‘spank me’” May explained. The second lady burst out laughing. “This one says ‘peg me please’, and this one ‘make me cry’. I feel so sorry for the thing's wife. She must be mortified that her husband’s such a waste of space.” The sissy was so distracted by the nasty barbs from the ladies he didn’t even notice that Master had finished. To make it worse the first performers were walking behind him when his sissy sac was yanked hard. The shriek of pain was audible despite the gag. The lead kept pulling, leading to the sissy’s hands trying to clutch his balls tottering on the toes of his heels like some cartoonish parody of sissyness. As the performance started on the stage the sissy was dragged until the pulling thankfully stopped. Feeling the downward pull on the leash sissy Lottie dropped to his knees instantly. Master remained silent checking the performers on stage had the crowd's attention and the unintentional comedy act forgotten. Master felt pressure on his boot. Glancing down he watched as the sissy pressed his face into the steel toe cop of his heavy boot. “You might be a useless embarrassment ninety percent of the time, but you’re an adequate slave when you’re not making a clown of yourself.” he scoffed. As if to prove Master is always right about being an embarrassment, the sissy could only cringe as the waft of a nasty fart filled his nose and he felt warmth spread between his thighs as his diaper expanded. Main Act For the next few hours, the Sissy found himself kneeling with head bowed low as Master had attached his collar to a ring at the foot of his throne. The sissy could feel the weight of Master’s feet resting on his padded bum. The sissy could hear the suspension bondage demonstration on stage come to the end. The fear of missing something amazing and hot made his tummy churn with anxiety. “Try not to make a total display of yourself,” Master demanded, yanking the blindfold free as he released the sissy from his constant kneel. The ache from his balls intensified from the sharp yank on the leash. Scrabbling quickly the cringing sissy Lottie, still blinking in the dim light, jumped to his feet and followed on stage. He kept the leash taunt knowing when in doubt taking the more unpleasant option would earn him at least the praise he so desired. Lottie watched carefully and when Master stopped at the raised lectern, he followed keeping the lead as taut as he could bare. Master made the ‘sissy stand’ signal and thus sissymaid Lottie stood, legs shoulder width apart, her hands clasped together touching his navel. Elbows pulled in tight with head bowed. It was at least a nice comfy position the Sissy thought to himself. “What a display” Master started. “And that was just the first of the five acts you will see. As our next act is setting up, I need to fill in a bit. As we all know, my sissy maid is a bit of a mess. And after tonight, messing his ‘dipee’, I have no choice but to reduce this fairy to now be ‘sissy baby’ Lottie.” The crowd joined in a rapturous applause as Master signalled to the sissy to wave as he walked up and down the edge of the stage, before pausing to curtsey and blow kisses. “Fank you, Fank you” he mumbled through the gag. Seeing the ‘stagehands’ (or ‘minions’, as the leaders of the group called them) needed a bit more time, Master had an idea. He lent down and whispered something to a sub girl in front of him who scurried away. “Now my favourite freaks and delights, sissy baby Lottie here loves a nice, warm, wet, and very full diaper. I swear, I’ve seen slugs with more dignity.” Master paused for the crowd's raucous response, smiling as the sissy's head dropped, his chin touching the pure white satin of the dress. “For a reward I think we can give the halfwit a nice full diaper, and with great timing here is the adorable Kitten. Please give her a cheer for the prompt work. She’s also available for the right Dom.” Master took the large glass of water from the blushing latex cat girl waving awkwardly from the front of the energised mass. “Stand still cream-puff" Master barked. The sissy paused, looking up at Master in confusion. “Well, that skirt covers nothing, as usual. Pull your ‘dipee’ open nice and wide.” Master twisted his neck to a face past the sissy and to the waiting figure in the wings of the stage. “Angelica, we’re almost ready for you. I got some ice and a rather prissy wimp here who would love nothing more than for you to make his girlish dreams come true.” The look of horror was barely masked by the straps of the gag. The diaper strained as he held it open watching a tall dominatrix strut on stage. Her huge tits bounced in her skin tight ball gown as she walked toward Master. He felt a pang of jealousy as the women accepted the glass, giving Master a hug and kiss before turning to stalk towards her prey. With knees quaking, and that horrible feeling he had watching the girl he fancied at school kiss another boy swirling around his stomach. He wussed out as he could no longer watch what the Domme was going to do and stared at a spot between his heels. They could be no more than twenty paces apart but for the sissy it felt like an age. He continued to look down seeing his new dress with little more than a belt width of lace ‘skirt’ to cover the princess covered diaper. The shame hit home like a sucker punch and a tear rolled down his face. Then he saw a shiny black boot appear below him. He tried to keep looking at his spot, but he couldn’t help but turn up to look at the fearsome Domme “You want this don’t you fuck nugget.” The Lady Angelica laughed, holding the glass up to the baying horde. Broken and pussy whipped the sissy baby nodded, even thrusting his hips towards his icy fate. “Ok fairy gurl. In 3...2.........1.....................................Now!!!!” The water was so cold he froze for a moment before he wet himself again. Sadistically she poured the water around his groin to the loud cheers of the crowd. The ice flowed from the glass, the clinks as they hit his sissy clit inside its metal prison like cymbals as the throng cried out with laughter. With a dramatic twist of her wrist the glass emptied into the already wet diaper. The water pooled under him as the multiple layers of the three diapers he wore struggled to contain the freezing liquid. As the sissy baby shivered from the icy water, he screwed his eyes shut as his sissy bump painfully tried to push against the walls of its tiny prison. The humiliation stoked the miniscule remainder of his masculinity. The ice made a loud crack as the final chunks hit the metal cage, sending little waves of pleasure through his tiny dicket. “Now… get off my stage, you loser.” the lady crowed, flicking an unprotected thigh with her cane. The sissy ran to her Master sobbing. Some of the water was now trickling down his thighs and the lovely warmth and sissy bliss from wetting in such a humiliating way had been replaced with a cold, clammy puddle. Master took hold of the sissy collar and led him from the stage and its illuminating bulbs, back to his throne off to the side in the relative darkness and safety. In an act of ‘sadistic kindness’ the sissy was allowed to sit rather than kneel on the hard floor. The diaper squelched like a soggy towel thrown against a wall as the sissy gratefully sat. Master held the sissy’s head against his crotch and gently rubbed the pansy's hair. Then the latex-clad cat girl returned with bottles of hot milk put down next to sissy baby Lottie’s soggy diaper, before scurrying off again, stage right. Master’s New Toy The sissy was happier now that he was not currently forced to go on stage. Rather, he sat uncomfortably in the soggy mess holding the warm milk he had been given. The plug had been removed and he had gratefully drunk down five bottles of the sweet tasting drink after a few hours without anything to drink. Master came back from the stage and took what was the last of the six bottles from his hands. Master held the teat out and pointed to the teat. The sissy squealed in delight as he was fed the drink like a farmer feeding a newborn calf, all the while Master rubbed between his shoulder blades. The sissy cooed like a newborn enjoying the attention. His little pee-pee was pulsing away as it dribbled his weak ‘sissy goo; into his dipee, happy in his own world. Meanwhile Master watched the stage intently, as a Dominatrix showed off her whip skills on a very well built and enthusiastic slave boy. As the kinksters on stage finished and took their applause, Master stood. His finger curled around sissy baby Lottie’s collar’s D-ring and the man gently raised the spaced-out sissy to the stage. The mix of humiliation, attention, plus the six bottles of warm milk, made the passive man a little sleepy and offered no resistance as he submissively followed his owner. The crowd watched in anticipation. The last act was up and the curtained area had to be shown off now. As if a silent message had been passed amongst them, the taunting and insults to the sissy was stopped to keep the airhead in his sissy space. The sissy enthusiastically knelt dead centre of the stage at right angle to the crowd. The sissy only watched Master as he walked around giving orders to Numnutts and another equally huge and practically naked man as they hauled a large, glass object onto the stage. The tube was the size of a steel oil drum with a metallic ring on the open end and an odd pipe connected at the bottom. The glass was thick and polished so not even the tiniest streak or blemish marred its surface. The two men attached chains to the top of the glass tube as Master started to speak. “Old friends, and new friends, I hope you all enjoyed the lovely displays of skills and talents my guests showed off so far this lovely evening. But,” Master pauses briefly to build suspense before continuing “your most humble of hosts is here to show off a new piece of equipment.” The screens all flashed to a new display of a flat, grey, concrete pit. The lights shone bright as the multiple cameras gave many views of the empty hole. Many in the crowd started to whisper in speculation at what the purpose of the hole, and what will happen to the lucky victims to become tonight's main event. “I know it's not impressive to look at,” Master continued, as the glass tube was lowered in the hole. “But I’d like to think that, despite being a cruel and sadistic bastard, I also want to fulfil fantasies for my slaves. And, of course, all of you.” This caused a nice cheer from the crowd before Master continued. Master gestures towards sissy baby Lottie “Now, this worthless waste of masculinity here loves when I degrade him and dehumanise it.” The change from ‘him’ to ‘it’ was noticed by the sissy and only made his horny- and milk-induced haziness that much worse as more sissy goo leaked into his now very, very full diaper. Master went on “To the point IT has the importance of a pebble on the beach.” The sissy smiled in its sissy haze, oblivious to his surroundings at this point. “The other thing is, the dumb cunt loves the idea of being a toilet. This has been growing for ages. It built a toilet box that locks its head inside and then it can be pissed on.” The screens showing the small device and the sissy head locked inside the wood box with a toilet seat on the top. “It's not very comfortable for me to use, however. It just didn’t work for me. However, while using the pathetic loser’s attempt, I did get the idea for this!!” Master, with the elegance of a master magician, pulled the curtain aside with a dramatic yank. The crowd gasped in unison as the tube was lowered into the hole revealing an ornate and beautifully crafted throne. Master walked over to the sissy and, with an evil grin from ear to ear, he stared down at the sissy and loudly shouted “PUT THE SISSY IN THE TUBE!” The audience erupted in laughter, gasps of surprise and more than a few horrible insults, the words blasted away the sissy’s haze and looked up in fright. “Mas..s...s..ster” he stuttered as the realisation dawned. “Yes, cream puff. Time for you to have your wish as being a sissy piss pot.” He laughed as the men easily lifted the sissy over to the hole. “What a sorry excuse for a man you are. Many would draw the line at the dress. Or the heels. Some might stop it at the make-up and hair removal. Others when made to make out with random strangers, or stop before they get huge cocks to fill their holes with cum, as they let these strangers use their body. Others would at least attempt to deny how much of a diaper-wearing, Cock-sucking, Piss-drinking, ass-eating, loser they are. You, my faggoty-ass pansy, shook me with the ever-lowering depths of depravity you try to reach to please me.” The sissy’s eyes watered at the harsh truth, and the pangs of shame as his pee-pee was twitching inside its cage as each humiliating secret was revealed to the cheering crowd. Already feeling the horrible burn of shame, he still obediently put his hand next to his ankles and helped as much as he could to allow the handcuffs locking his wrists and ankles to be placed on. The sissy mumbled “thanks” to Numnutts as the mountain of a man removed the gag strapped around sissy’s face. The lights in the pit were blinding, at first, as the large men lowered him into the tube until his heeled feet were resting on the bottom. Helplessly he looked up seeing the heavy throne moved into place. The glass of the tube vibrated with the metal frame clanging into place. As a fearful clang echoed around the concrete walls. The crowd watched intently at the screen showing the quaking sissy squirm. Master was whispering to one of the stage hands, who then rushed off stage. The waiting sissy was visibly getting more and more nervous, as he awaited his fate. A New Low? “Ladies and Gentlemen!” Master started to work the crowd. “I do hope you have been enjoying all the free champagne our hosts kindly supplied.” The clinks of glasses and roars of approval from the balcony was heard over the applauding crowd, even by the quaking sissy deep in his glass prison. “My fellow degenerates! Please welcome… Mz Cleopatra .” The crowd's applause reverbed in the tube. The sissy starred up knowing whatever happens next, he probably won't like, but will still flood his diaper with the watery mess his unmilked and very full sissy sac produced. Just as the thought crossed his mind, a face menacingly glared down at him. Between her forefinger and thumb, they were holding the leash from earlier… the one that was attached to his tiny clitty cage. The one he had peed on, and had been inside his messy diaper. “Urgh you’re filthy, freak.” the Amazonian dominatrix from earlier sneered. “You ruined this, you filthy cock-sucker with a worm sized dick. You will pay for that.” Numnutts took the leash, reaching in to clip it to the sissy’s collar. As the giant man stood, he offered the leash handle back to the latex clad Domme before turning to pull the curtain closed. Mz Cleopatra stopped the large giant from closing it and turned her back to the crowd. To the delight of the audience, the dark-skinned beauty lent forward and arched her back as she slowly rolled her latex dress up to expose her juicy behind and sexy white thong covering her wet snatch. Fully embracing the spotlight, the Mistress wiggled her incredibly well-toned bum before slowly peeling the designer thong down her powerful thighs. With the grace of a ballerina, she turned on her skyscraper heels, lifting her arms aloft to the generous whoops and whistles as her thick and bushy pussy was exposed to all the onlookers. She skillfully walked backwards to the throne and daintily sat down on the face of the terrified captive. Artfully, and dramatically, she wrapped the leash around her gloved hand, holding the sissy just millimeters from her soaked love pot. “Try not to cry, sissy” she taunted, yanking hard and mashing his face into her pussy. Holding him tight, she wriggled against the sissy’s face smearing pussy juices over his mouth as she felt his nose work its way into her ass crack. “Take a deep breath, sissy. It's rare that a poofter should even be allowed near my perfect booty.” The sissy could see nothing but flawless ass as he took a huge arid breath through his nose. He couldn’t be more than a centimeter from her rosebud. "You could live off that aroma, right sissy?” she mocked, laughing heartily as she felt the sissy grind his face up and down in the affirmative. “Open that mouth and stick out your tongue. If you dare close it before I flush by tugging on the leash twice…” Sissy understood the implied threat. Off to the side, Master watched with an evil smirk as Cleopatra pulled the sissy’s face even tighter to her pussy, forcing the sissy to arch his back into a painful bowed position. The sissy twitched as his mouth awaited the warm bitter liquid, as drops of pee began to trickle out of Mz Cleopatra and drip on his face. A few moments later, the tiny drops became a stream, which came too much for the sissy to hold in his mouth as it started to leak from the corner of his mouth and started to soak into his new pretty dress and pool around the sissy’s frilly stockings at the tube’s bottom. Mz Cleopatra was getting hot from the crowd cheering her on and feeling the worthless sissy squirm against her wetness. From the corner of her eye, she could see the sissy bent over in chains on the screens. A huge smile grew on her face as she watched her golden nectar run in multiple little flows all over the sissy’s face. With the fire in her love box getting to explosive levels, she couldn't help but to grind down on the pathetic worthless white boi’s face. Using her free hand, she put on a show for her frenzied audience and played with her impressive breasts before trailing down to her throbbing clit. “Fuck that's mmmm” the Domme screamed as her body rippled with electric pleasure as she ground down on her clit and cranked on the leash, forcing the groaning sissy even tighter to the thrones seat allowing her to ride faster and faster until she screamed, her body shaking in waves of orgasmic bliss. She slumped back in the chair, momentarily dazed from the orgasm ripping through her. Master waited a beat then coughed at Numnutts who gently touched her arm and pointed to the leash held in her death grip. “I don’t think we need to worry about the poor sissy cumquat losing brain cells.” she laughed, releasing the leash. The sissy squealed as his soggy, padded bum slapped down into the decent puddle that had formed in the tube. Despite knowing what he stared down at was the puddle of pee soaking into his stockings, as the strange mix of Mz Cleopatra ’s cum and piss trickled down his face adding to stains on the pretty dress. Yet, his sissy riddled brain clamped his mouth tightly remembering the instruction from his superior. He sat staring up showing his mouth closed tight, holding its precious load awaiting the ‘flush’. “Sissy” a voice bellowed into the glass prison. The sissy jumped in fright before peering up through Mz Cleopatra ’s thighs at a bearded figure above him, as another stream of hot piss blasted him in the face. He scrunched his face up, feeling the arid liquid plaster every inch of his face. “Hey, Mz Cleopatra, Yank the pitiful thing’s chain will ya? Its face going blue.” The bearded man said, playfully aiming his impressive phallus before finishing his piss on her still dripping cunt. “You dick” she shouted at the laughing man walking away. “Mother fucker” she fumed yanking on the chain ignoring the relieved sissy finally drinking down the tangy and arid mouthful. Without demand he raised up on his knees, tongue out-stretched, yearning for more degradation. His pee-pee now seriously suffering from how much his chastity cage was restraining him. “You have a use, sissy white boi” Mz Cleopatra exclaimed “As toilet paper!” With an enthusiastic gusto, the sissy jammed his head between the bowl and seat to force his face as close as possible, licking all over Mz Cleopatra ’s musty snatch. His brain had gone, drifting into the out of body state of bliss of sissy space. He could feel his tiny sissy bump continuing to leak into his already sticky and sodden mess of a diaper. Happy with the sissy’s pussy shine, the Domme pushed the lapping tongue back down into his glass container and walked off. Leaving the sissy to serve the quickly-forming queue of waiting people. Close to the Edge The crowd had now broken up, with the many dominants using their subs on the equipment around the main hall, and many more in the rooms along the side. While the many screens around the den of debauchery had switched to the kinky scenes in the private rooms. Up on the balcony the box containing the sissy’s wife, Master’s other full-time slave, had been secured to a pillar. With little more than a slight gesture from Master, two hooded minions pulled the nails from the front panel of the crate and removed it. Inside, slave Naïve was tightly bound with a half dozen wooden inserts laser cut to match the curvy subs form and leave her pinned in place. Master reached into the box with his gloved hand. His fingers traced around the edges of the heavy metal cuffs, bra and belt locked on her body. As his fingers travelled around her body the slave girl pushed her body forward yearning for his touch as her pussy dripped with need. “Oh Master” she whispered around the small ball gag in her mouth, as his fingers brushed against the grill covering her outer lips. “Does my slave pig want to come out and play.” Master replied, his voice like dark velvet. While pulling the gag free from her lips. “Mmmmmmm” the bound woman moaned “Please Master. Please punish me. Make me scream for you. I need you to make me black and blue” “But you have been such a good piggy, slut Naïve. So much better behaved than your pansy of a hubby.” He replied as he reached and unbuckled the blindfold of the hood she wore. “He is barely a spec next to the m…...” she trailed off as the blindfold was removed and the harsh light momentarily blinded her. She blinked rapidly, unable to move her hands to help. As the blinding light faded away, she was left with just the huge main screen, showing her bloated and useless sissy hubby kneeling in the brightly-lit tube. The once-new and glossy dress now clung against the pansy’s pasty white skin. The once gloriously poofy, virginal white shoulders were now a pale yellow, matching the inadequate wearer. The little of what was the skirt still poofed out somewhat. However, it, too, was now a pale yellow and actually managed to somewhat cover the sodden and swollen diaper, which was forcing the sissy’s knees as wide as the thick glass of the narrow tube would allow. The camera zoomed in showing a beaming smile on the sissy’s face behind a mask of ruined makeup and piss-soaked hair. He managed to happily splash around in the pool of pee. Poor Naïve turned bright red in shame. Despite their complicated relationship she did love and care for the dumb fool. Still, he looked like he was paddling in a kiddy pool. Not a bound fairy faggot, in a tube filled with pee from who knows where. “Boys. Take piggy whore to the medical examination room.” Master called out, giving a creepy wave to his slave as the crate lid was pushed in place and turning her world black again. Mz Cleopatra sat up in the balcony, one of her submissives knelt beside her. His head bowed in deference as a cup of tea rested on his up-turned palms. She loved the view staring down as people below mingled and watched as the leather and latex clad hunters played with their provocatively dressed prey. Only a few of the room screens remained blank as their occupants decided to keep their kinky play to themselves. But, the rest showed everything. From naughty schoolies being spanked by a teacher in a simple tight pencil skirt, all the way up to a pair of feminine bodies, clad in gorgeous lingerie being fucked by both fake and real cocks as they hung helpless from the ceiling. Her mood changed as she looked up to see the pansy bitch fairy playing happily. She tutted in disgust as the subby tea holder looked up to see his Mistress shook her head, utterly annoyed that the sissy was enjoying himself. “Wait here.” she commanded as she stood. Her adoring slave contorted his body to hold the cup as high as he could while straining his rubber clad body to press his gagged mouth to her spiked heels. “Good boi” she praised walking towards the room this evening host was playing.“Fuck. Fuck, Fuuuucccckk” Naïve shouted. Her body arching and straining against the thick leather straps tightly bounding her to the examination table. For once Master kindly left the blindfold off, allowing her to see the pair of hooded minions mauling her large udders. One was sucking on her nipple so hard he was able to pull on it painfully, while his fingers squeezed and pinched her soft flesh. The other identifiable person was practically chewing on her other nipple and breast. She could feel the sting from the multiple bite marks covering her tit. “Oh my God, oh my God.” she squealed, feeling the strain as the clamps bit down then stretched her pussy lips wide. She strained her neck to see over the minions playing with her tits to see what was happening as she felt a cord being tied to each toe and her poor pussy lips being pulled further apart. “Let's test” she could hear Master talking to someone. She strained her neck to try and see more of who else was there, when her evil Lord and Master lashed a cane against the sole of her foot. Before the scream could leave her lips, her foot jerked in response to the sharp hit. As her toes clenched, she could feel the cord bite into her sensitive skin and pull on the petals of her twat. Turning the yell of pain into a strange gurgled moan. Another blow slashed her foot causing another yank on her now throbbing cunt flaps as she could feel her snatch glistening with fresh signs of her excitement. “Owww” she screamed as a new set of teeth marks appeared on her skin. Stoking the fire in her molten hot sex as her owner started to run his fingers down her soles. Using her toes to pull and stretch her throbbing labia. “Master…. Master.” she called “I am soooo close. It's been so long. Please can I have one orgasm Master. I will gratefully accept any punishment you extract from my worthless body. Please Sir I beg you I am so very close. “I am ‘fraid not, but I have plans for you tonight Ms Piggy. And I need a bright and willing slave. Not a lazy old porker whose had her fun.” “Master, you know I will always be ready for you to use and I will perform flawlessly. But I am so very close. I feel ready to burst” “Naïve. You know better than to continue this childish begging once I said NO, and in front of all these people.” he swept his arm up in dramatic fashion to point out the dozen or so people watching through the window and the open door. No matter how often she had been exposed and degraded in front of what must have been over ten thousand people it still made her squirm in shame as the humiliation made her drip faster than a leaky faucet. “Who here thinks my fine piggy slave deserves an orgasm.” Master exclaimed as if a ringmaster hyping up the crowd. “How long has it been now my needy cock sleeve?” “Eleven months, two weeks and a day. Master.” she replied her body shook against the thick leather as if angry at the lack of release. The almost temper tantrum-like reaction brought a roar of laughter from the crowd. “My poor sweet slut.” Master admonished. “This is what I would expect from that unexplainable pansy you married. Not a fine subby sow like you.” Before she could reply her body twisted and bucked as a lightning bolt of pain exploded as the leather tongue of Master’s crop lashed down on her poor defenceless pussy. A second then third followed swiftly as the trapped slave could only cry out in pain. Yet the crowd could hear the increased squelch as the crop smacked down on a wetter and wetter cunt. Naïve eyes slowly closed as she drifted away back to the dreamy place, she felt her body and mind almost split in two. The hot pain took the breath away leaving her body trembling in fear of further strikes. But her mind knew she needed the deserved correction. She needed more for failing her Master. In front of others no less! The voice in her head desperately wanted to call out to ask for more, had grown so loud she bit down on her tongue to remain quiet. Her body tensed sensing something close, but was the soft touch of a gloved hand as Master gently rubbed her cheek. She leaned into the soft touch of Master. rubbing her head against the hand like a cat enjoying some head scritches. Her body contorted to rub her sopping wet cunt against Masters fingers as he teasingly rubbed about her outer lips. “I have some bad news, my little porker. I must go for now. However, I promise you will not be waiting too much longer before I use you again. Be a good girl and you will get your reward.” Master said the words slowly as he gently pushed two fingers in and out her cunt. “Cool her off minions and get her ready for later. Don't forget to wipe her, and clean the room, medical room clean!” The hooded figures rose away from assaulting the stunned woman’s tits and nodded. Watching as the event host stuffed his fingers into Naïve’s mouth. Who instinctively licked her own excitement from the PVC. Leaving the minions to their task, Master walked to the bar getting himself a tea. He gave a side eye to the gorgeous dominatrix as she slid on a stool next to him. “What I do.” he quipped at her sour expression. “The fucking loser is enjoying its self” Mz Cleopatra said, bitterly, pointing to the sissy still in his own little world with a giant dopey smile on his face. “That he does. Ain’t it cute?” “I would think this would be upsetting you, at least a little bit.” Mz Cleopatra said almost in an accusatory way. “Let the poor fool enjoy it for a bit. More fun when I ruin it.” Master replied, with a wink and knowing smile. “Ruin it?” Mz Cleopatra replied, with an inquisitive look. Master nodded, paused to think for a moment, and then said “You know what, no time like the present, Let's give the people a show!” Master then signalled for the minions to approach. Setting Up The sissy’s eyes were closed as he enjoyed one of his fantasies coming true. He swirled his bound hands around, revelling in the still-warm liquid around him. Enjoying every moment, it lapped over his bare thighs. The drying pee on his face filled his nostrils with a bitter arid smell keeping his sissy bump straining away making his already full diaper come even more delightfully sticky and damp on the outside as it was on the inside, as the pee soaked into it. Suddenly, a loud ‘pop’ sound startled the poof. The bright lights now appeared to be turned off and, like that, a sense of dread washed over him. After a moment of silence in the darkness the golden pool of piss suddenly felt colder. The dress was now clammy and gross as it clung his skin. Looking up, the light was all but blocked out. Worrying him more were the new sounds of heavy objects being moved around. The curtain being closed around the throne and the sudden arrival of a team of minions working on the main stage attracted those milling around the main floor. A large covered item was wheeled on stage as some minions armed with power tools got to work behind the screen. “My friends” Masters' voice rang out over the Tannoy system. “I do worry about you all. Seems many of you lost faith. Like that’s all I would do to the poor, worthless, maggot-dicked cream puff in its natural home down in its pissy hole. No, no, no....” Master paused as the minions dropped the sheets covering the device. “Fuck me” one voice rang out over the newly silenced crowd, as they stared at a huge vat of golden liquid! The huge vat sat on a flatbed with fancy iron metal struts securing it in place. Underneath the large motors with thick rubber covered cables and various other impressive looking tech started humming in anticipation of its greatest show. A handful of minions appeared as if some choreographed routine and hoisted the large hose from the top of the tank, into the air to connect with a huge valve previously hidden in the darkness above the stage lights. As some minions linked up the thick hoses, others wheeled out elaborate looking dentist chairs. Each having obvious stimulation devices and fucking machines built in with cut outs in strategic locations and a dozen thick straps hanging free. Others worked to add chains to kneeling posts facing the tank each with a gag attached to a tube that ran up to the tank. A paniced squeal could be heard from behind the curtain but was quickly drowned out with the sounds of power tools and the clang of metal on glass. The whirl of the tank shaking to life instantly distracted the crowd as the bottom of the tank illuminated giving its potent contents a vibrant glow. “OH, yes. I always have a plan B. So, just in case my lovely guests didn’t drink enough to fill the sissy’s piss tube, I got a donation from… ‘alternative’ means. It does seem I over-sourced though. If any subs or slaves are looking a little dehydrated, please do feel free to offer them a free drink!” As the minions finished attaching the various cables and power to the Frankensteined chairs a platform was erected with a large whipping frame dead centre. From the four corners of the whipping frame, shiny new manacles hung awaiting the unfortunate soul being held in place. With the constant thud of his cane Master strode across the stage floor, oozing a showman's confidence. “Thank you to my fine minions for your work tonight. You have surpassed my expectations as usual and, as such, I hope to give you a special treat later. But, for now, it's on with our show. Bring her out boys” Naïve fell back against the thick, rough wood of her travel crate as the whole thing rocked back on an angle before jolting forward. The experience had her unnerved as normally the dozen slates would have been locked in place. The wood panels were so well made and secured her so firmly in place, Master regularly placed the box upside down and left her for hours. Without warning the box stopped and was hauled upright. Naïve barely able to put her hands out in time to stop her crashing into the lid. She scrabbled back to jam her back against the wood as she heard the crate lid being prized open. The darkness was broken with the crack of the top of the crate springing forward as the nails were yanked free. She could feel the instant heat as the piercingly bright lights of the stage blew the darkness away and blinded her so much, she pressed her body tighter against the safety of the back wall. “Hello pet” Masters deep velvety voice whispered. “Time for your reward.” The brass of the leash gleamed a rich bronze colour in the bright light as the gloved hand reached in. Subconsciously she raised her chin giving free access to the collar locked around her throat. The familiar click of the clasp being closed and the pressure on the back of her neck increasing as the chain was pulled taut. Normally Master would have her tied or at least hooded before bringing her on stage, but here was the first time she had to face the public as the willing slave girl she deep down knew she was. Still, she faltered at the first light tug on the collar. She leaned back, glancing up unsure if she made a painful mistake. Before she could look down, he was back at the edge of the box. His finger curled around the D ring as his gloved hand shot up but rather than strike it stroked her cheek. “Come now girl, You’re ok. It's ok.” he whispered as his finger closed around the ring and gently led her out. “I promise nothing bad will happen.” Naïve felt the fog drop and her body take over. She offered no resistance as he led her to the odd-looking chair. As he stopped, she dropped to the floor sitting like a good pupper. As he gave a speech about how the chair and all its hidden goodies worked safely, she allowed it all to drown out as she slipped into her happy place. The peace so great she risked leaning on Master’s leg and slightly rubbing her head against his knee and earnt a literal pet on head. “Sit up,” Master ordered with an added tug on the leash. Naïve quickly bounced to her feet before following his direction to daintily hop onto the chair vibrating with excitement. But when Master continued to point out how to use the device rather than using her, she gave an audible huff and pout much to the crowd's amusement. Master rolled his eyes at her antics, “Let me show the fun stuff,” he announced, grabbing a clump of her hair to guide her into place as she squealed and scrabbled on the slick leather surface to follow him. With a hard tug she placed her head into a curved padded area firmly holding her head to look straight ahead. Naïve purred with pleasure and closed her eyes and relaxed her body. As strong fingers pulled her arms up above her head, she could feel the tingling in her pussy get stronger as well as the butterflies in her tummy speed up. The click of the padlock closing sent a little shiver of excitement down her spine. From just a little wriggle she could tell her arms were shackled in place loving how her arms were stretched. A click near her ear made her flinch before feeling straps either side of her elbow securing her arm locked in place. She tilted her head as best as she could to see the bar holding her elbow at a right angle. Moments later her other arm was secured the same way leaving her deliciously helpless already. She could feel her heart rate increase and the wetness between her folds grow quicker as thick wide leather belts were strapped tight above and below her large breasts. Before she could test how much the silk feeling leather would yield, a third belt was cinched tight. Naïve felt her breathing slow as a serene calmness flowed over her. The leather dug in around her hip making her squirm in excitement as the helplessness made her pussy tingle with anticipation. The hapless maiden bit down on the inside of her lip to stop a huge moan as her legs were roughly grabbed by two sets of hands. With little care, a latex wearing Domme and leather-bound Master pulled her legs apart and held them into the surgical steel of stirrups. Two thicker straps were wrapped around the top of her thighs, above and below the knee as well as the middle of her shin. Allowing little more than the most minute of movements. “So open and ready” she heard someone murmur. The fog lifted as she could see the unidentifiable human forms beyond the lights staring at her bald snatch, covered in the proof of her excitement. Her shame turned her skin a bright pink as the thought of her old teachers at the catholic school calling her every humiliating name under the sun echoed in her memories. “The chairs are open for all” Master called out not looking at the crowd, instead looking at his female pet squirming in the chair. The heat of the public exposure radiating off her entire body. He pulled off a glove and ran his nails across her exposed skin. He trailed from just above her soaked mound all the up to her neck where he locked a metal shackle around her collared throat. “So beautiful and so ready for me,” he whispered in her ear. “My trained plaything ready for my touch, my torments, my tenderness.” He continued, as he added an elastic strap with attached padding into place effectively wedging her head to look straight ahead. He watched the moment of panic as she pushed against the thick foam, before leaning down to gently kiss her forehead and stroke the back of his bare hand on her cheek. “My pet piggy ready to be pleasured” he grinned, his eyes dancing with mischief watching as her eyes grow wider and glassy as all the twisted and deplorable thoughts swam around her head. Master turned his head to get the nod from trusted Doms who had set up their own subs in the other chairs that all was safe. With a spin on his heels, he turned around to face the audience. “Now, all my newest designs are set up and their not-so-willing victims are ready for the game.” The dynamic host paused, spotting Kitten standing close. Reaching out he grabbed the girl by the ponytail from the top of her latex hood dragging her to the front of the crowd, signalling for her to stretch out her arms and resting the large laptop on her forearms. “Be a good PC stand, girl” he growled before addressing the crowd. “Believe it or not, this… thing is the wife to the piss pot of a sissy we have left in his tube”. Some of the audience members gasped, others giggled. “This is how this works.” Master continued. “These chairs have lots of contraptions, toys and various other devices to give our lovely subs and slaves a great time, or a very bad time. But in honour of the slave wife's service and obedience for over three hundred and fifty days since she was last allowed to orgasm! Tonight, there will be a competition.” The crowd started to hum in excitement as several dominants were whispering their desire to win as the prizes at these parties were legendary. From custom outfits costing thousands, to rare expertly made whips, too even getting access to the top floor of the church itself. While the crowd took in the surprise, Master clicked some commands on the laptop and the vat rumbled to life. With a roar of approval, the lights in the pit came to life and illuminated the unaware sissy as all the pipes started to fill very quickly with the golden nectar. “To win the top prizes all you need to do is simply get as many orgasms as you can from your subby toy as possible. I can feel the glares from those with chaste partners. Fear not, you can simply find and challenge another pairing with a chaste partner, and we have another prize for the longest to resist.” The crowd started clapping and shouting so loud Master had to bang his cane on the floor several times to regain order. “Here is the best part. Hitting the foot pedal beside each chair after every orgasm has been achieved, the piss princess receives a special prize.....” Danger! The sissy blinked hard against the harsh lights that had suddenly come back on. He could hear a commotion above, but could only see the dark grey of the tube… and none of the sounds made sense. A new sound was getting louder and the faint sound of the crowd grew and grew. Just as the realisation of what the sound was, a torrent of stale, cold piss hit sissy like a truck. There was so much, and the torrent so violent, that the sissy froze, almost unable to breathe as more and more cascaded down. Up on the stage the pansy’s wife screamed out, her lungs burning from the electric wand stimulating her poor and abused clit. Above her head she could see the poor poof in the tube and the look of worry broke her heart. She had tried to hold out as the wand electrified her pussy as the thick rod stretched her pussy wide. Still her body betrayed her the dirty word of Master in her ear as he twisted her nipple and she convulsed as the first orgasm in nearly a year exploded from her. The warm glow from the release of countless fucking's, hours of edging so close, the ache of denial and just the daily teasing and humiliation that made her mound so wet when had taken to carrying several spare knickers to work. The thought of that joyous moment as her body tensed up ready for Master to pull away and leave her dry. Then the whisper she waited a year for and the hill crested as Master pushed hard and she nearly blacked out. As the wash of bliss finally drifted away and Naïve became much more aware of what was going on around her. The screams and moans of her fellow slaves were followed by cries of joy from dominant voices. On the screen she could see her sissy boi of a hubby being drenched by a large bucket’s worth of piss. Naïve was torn. On the one hand, she knew that in future the pansy would be rubbing his huge teddy’s massive rubber dick thinking of this moment for years to come. On the other, she knew the humiliation and feeling of degradation of Master turning a fetish up to a hundred or adding a twist to add something you never thought about, and how it can feel all too much at the time. As memories from the decade of servitude flooded her mind, she failed to notice Master’s return. In the tube, the sissy slumped broken again. The pool of pee had now grown up to his waist. The pretty skirt of his dress now floating in a perfect circle out from his body. His diaper was now completely drenched and expanded so much his scrawny legs were forced out at awkward angles that had started to get uncomfortable. and difficult for the sissy to stand. Every time he heard that whooshing noise from the garden hose, it would make some masochistic part of his brain forced him to raise his own face to take the first seconds of the blast full in the face until he couldn’t hold out any longer and would move to breathe. Once it stopped his head would drop. Tears formed in his eyes, yet his bump was trying to get harder than it had ever been within its cage. His not actually hard sissy flesh pushed into the metal bars of its cage, making sissy acutely aware how pathetic he was, only making his feeling of humiliation worse, which only made his arousal greater. Then the whooshing would return and he would raise his head again. Crowd Interaction Master was impressed with Naïve’s resolve. He has expected the woman to have given into her desires more. With the vat now half empty. He only managed to extract four orgasms from the slave girl. Glancing up he could see he currently ranked fifth on the leaderboard imposed over the video showing his pathetic sissy bitch piss bath was barely up to his arm pits as he did a telltale twitch. “Here you are holding out for that worthless little faggot. While he is right now leaking that watery sissy juice into a diaper.” Master taunted the bound woman as four fingers made slapping sounds against her raw pussy. “Mhmmm,” was all the slave could muster. Her body was covered with a sheen of sweat as her body convulsed from the fingering. “I am going to force my entire fist in your pussy and if you don’t cum, I think I will put you in the tube too!!!” Master promised. With a wet plop his thumb forced its way inside her puss. “”Ughhhh” she responded. Her breathing getting rapid as she felt Masters large hand thrust up and down deep inside her as it grinded on her special spot. Her brain was so gone she could only babble nonsense as her exhausted body surrendered to the overstimulation and let out a groan as her body twitched randomly as a fifth orgasm rippled through her body. Master stepped on the peddle and watched the screen to see another torrent of pee wash down on the sissy face, making Master grin. As he turned his attention back to his fem sub, he noticed Lady Ash. The well known local evil lesbian dominatrix. Her trademark blood-red hair showed her Irish ancestry and fiery temperament. She marched on stage, dragging her sub to the whipping frame. You could see her anger as the red head shouted at how disappointed she was with the slave's performance. As the domme locked the poor girl into the manacles and cranked the begging sub body into a taut spread eagle. Master caught the eye with a friend of Ash and gave a head nod towards the women thrashing the girl. “I told you not to let me down” she screeched “You’re dead last in the number of orgasms.” Master slowed his fist fucking as he watched the Domme continued to admonish her sub, her whip now dangling from her hand. The slave girl hung limply in her bonds. Multiple angry red welts visible against the girl's pure white skin. He picked up the powerful vibrator from its hook and held it against his subs inflamed clit. Ash’s friend approached her. Gently taking the whip and calmly talked to her. The Irish beauty’s temper seemed to go away. She hugged and unlocked her slave. Master continued to watch as he gently teased the still blubbering Naive, feeling he could get another orgasm from her as the painfully looking pussy sucked his arm deep inside her! Distracted for a moment he looked up and could only laugh as Ash was locking the feeding gag to her unfortunate slave, who was already locked to the short kneeling post. He could see half a dozen were now attached as his minions kept having to change out hoses to allow the growing number of people forced to watch the tank of liquid as the clear hose filled with its tasty treat. A guttural groan brought his attention back as he could feel the girl staining her body to get any movement on his embedded arm. He used a finger to flick her swollen bean and fucked her hard as the girl wriggled in pain. Master continued this pattern over and over. He could feel the heat from her mount grow hotter and hotter as the broken women quivered as the waves of pleasure and pain started to overlap and meld into every nerve ending fizzing with energy. With practiced precision he continued to repeat the fucking and flicks quicker and quicker. Building her up to the point she was like the last car on a roller coaster. You're sitting far enough back that as the front car stared down at the drop you were still the other side unable to see what was to come. After a last flick she pushed the small bullet vibrator on max and held it to her battered clit as she used his entire body to smash in and out of her pussy. The squelching of his hand slamming in and out filled his ears as Master continued. He could hear his sub start to take short gasps of air as her body suddenly froze as spasms of pleasure crackled through her body. The lurch of the coaster cart suddenly being violently yanked over the crest of the hill and then a plunge into free fall. Master stood up and wiped his arm clean, stepped on the foot pedal to signal another orgasm had been reached, then quickly freed the girl. With the aid of a minion, he carried her limp body to his throne where he held the girl tight. Stroking her head. Allowing her to return from the intense experience. As he cared for the slave girl he watched in bemused fascination as a new slave was secured to his crazy idea. One male sub has his little dicklett in the vacuum pump. The machine worked up and down the man's unimpressive member over and over as the slave shook his head, gritting his teeth as his poor balls had been already milked dry. A pair of Dominatrixes were happily pointing and laughing at his efforts. Another guy was using the collection implements teasing his slave’s skin with the silk, satin and fur coverings, as his pinwheel ran over her tender areas. As the wheel made its way the girl shuddered and writhed as her senses overloaded as the heavy leather hood took away her sight and sound. In a pair of his Frankenstein chairs a challenge was on. Two Dommes lubed up the horse-sized strapons‘ hanging from the massive harness to support the dong's huge length and girth. A minion dropped his arm and Dommes actually took a huge stride forward to impale the defenseless ass pussies in front of them. As the ladies impressively kept an incredible pace as one fucked the ass of a pretty and tiny sissy, as the other ploughed a large Thor-looking sub. Behind the chairs he noticed a pretty blonde strapped to a cross. The girl’s moans were getting louder as her Dom beat his pretty sub. With no warning the Dom yanked his leather shorts down and began to plow his impressive cock into her dripping pussy. The large screen flashed as the leaderboard updated and the sissy took another dunking. The chaste leaderboard showing a mistress he didn’t know. But they had won many battles as she had double digit wins and five point lead on anyone else. A small cheer went up as another sub gave up and orgasmed as the powder puff got another golden shower. “Did I do good?” Naïve asked. Her voice low and respectful as she felt her body return to normal snuggled in her Masters arm’s. “You were fantastic, I hope you enjoyed.” Master replied, his usual bite in his voice gone as he gently stroked her naked form. “Your slave pig is tender but happy, Master!” “Sound time for Mrs Piggy girl to earn her next orgasm,” he whispered. His voice making her shiver in anticipation “I look forward to it.” she purred in reply. Grinning, Master grabbed his bag of implements before taking the slave by her collar and led her back on stage. Walking past the human laptop stand he took one of Kitten’s pigtails in hand and marched the pair to the raised platform. Ordering the now kneeling Kitten to warn him if the sissy were to drown! Pulling his leather gloves tight, Master took Naïve's right arm and pulled it up to the manacle set up in the centre of the frame. At a little over five foot three the small slave girl had to stretch her body up to her max height, feeling the weight of the steel as it closed shut. The sound from the lock closing sent a warm feeling to her abused pussy. The second lock left her body straining as arms pulled up high. Bending down he forced a pair of ballet boots on the slave's feet. The immovable metal plate in the boots forced her to point her toes down into a position a ballerina at the royal society would be impressed with. The huge heel added some support as she gripped the manacle chains in a death grip to keep her balance. “Oh, thank you Master” she breathed happily, as her arms were pulled higher and the boots were placed into groves on the platform. She was so happy the supports kept the boots on the floor without flailing around, she didn’t stop to think about the odd setup. Leaning down the evil sadist entered a code into the laptop activating a program. He rose from his crouch and firmly grabbed the slave girl's neck. At first, she tensed up before melting against him as he circled his fingers three times to signal it was him. He scraped his fingers down the soft skin of her back and grabbed her big fat ass cheeks. “My piggy looks good when covered with my marks,” he whispered in her ear, before biting down on neck four times leaving a trail of marks down her neck and collar bone. “Please Master. I need a whipping for begging like my loser husband,” she whimpered, feeling herself wilt under his touch. I have a new game my good little piggy.” Master started, the softness now gone from this voice. Just the pure confidence and control that made her wet on the spot remained. “If your boots leave those little grooves your poor little poofter of a hubby will have a shower. The longer you keep your boots still however!” Master hit a switch in his pocket and the boots let off a shock into the soles of the hanging meat. With a yelp of shock, she yanked her feet up, leaving her hanging from the chain. She could hear a huge whoosh as the pump let forth a torrent of cold piss into the tube. She could see in high definition as her hubby looked up and the pee rained down. Seeing it not stopping she quickly wriggled her boots back into place. Selecting a pair of her heavy floggers and with a quick stretch of his back muscles. Master started whirling the floggers around fanning the multiple thick tongs of leather before they smacked down with a wonderful thud against Naïve's bare skin. As he moved, Naïve would rise up on her tiptoes releasing more and more piss into her sissy husband. After each blow Master would glance to the screen then back to his slave as his floggers rained down in a rhythmical beat. He watched with glee as each short sharp burst of pee would spurt out right into the degraded sissy face. Adjusting his stance, Master moved closer to Naïve, taking a crop from the pile of toys. With a flourish, he rained down blows as he, in turn, played with the slave’s dripping cunt. The faster he whipped, the more he finger fucked. The slave raised all the way up to the points of her toes as her body thrashed, from the mix of the crop and the stimulation of her throbbing sex. As Master tormented her, feeling her body on the edge, he watched the screen as the tube was now getting very full and the sissy’s face had turned to fear. The sissy was starting to panic before the large eruptions of golden liquid now turned to a constant stream quickly filling up his glass prison. In his mind, he knew even a lowly sissy like him wouldn’t be completely ignored… Master would surely not let him come to harm, right? Still, the pee was coming in alarmingly swiftly, now reaching up to his chin. “My friends, my friends.” Master said yelling from the platform. “Look at my useless sissy baby.” The crowd cheered seeing the sissy no longer slumped down but having to drink the old stored pee he was made to swim in. The thick curtains opened and the crowd yelled and shouted abuse louder, which the sissy could now hear. The sissy visibly turned red hearing the chants to “DRINK! DRINK! DRINK!.” As he slurped up more and more pee. Inside the tube the sissy could hear the chants urging him on to drink, but also the cruel shouts of “fucktard,” “ass licker” and then “wussy piss-drinking fairy-boi faggot” suddenly came through loudly, hurting most. Still, he couldn’t stop lapping up the pee to “save” his worthless hide. Finally, it seemed, the torrents of stale pee stopped coming in, and the sissy drank just a little bit more to allow him to be able to get the pee down to a level where he could breathe. No sooner had the sissy brought the pee down below his mouth so that he could breathe more easily did he hear the booming voice of his Master. “Hey cream puff,” Master called from on top of the throne. The sissy starred up, straining as much as he could to be away from the pee while looking up, whimpering in embarrassment. Another sissy, dressed in an outfit almost as ridiculous as the one sissy baby Lottie was wearing earlier was spun around and forced to sit down. The newest to use the throne wasn’t wearing panties. Only a micro cage, smaller than Lottie’s own cage, with a huge baby blue ribbon adorning the top. “This has to be the most ridiculous panty waist effeminate prissy cuck I've seen. It makes you look positively ‘hunk of the year’ with his girly figure and cock sucking lips. But, even this waste of a Y-chromosome wouldn’t be seen dead in a pool of week-old piss and lap it up for others to record.” With that, the new sissy’s ribboned clit began peeing on que, covering the Master’s sissy baby with a tiny stream of weak pee. Still, sissy baby Lottie opened wide, drinking the sweet boi-juice as he suddenly quivered from the huge sissygasm that this new level of humiliation brought on. Hung Out to Dry Time ticked slowly by for the poor sissy. The lights inside his personal pit of shame had been turned off, leaving him only able to see from the residual light coming from above. Sissy was cold, wet, and quite literally stinking of piss. Now and then the dim light from above would darken followed by a fresh stream of pee being added. The sissy, dutifully, opened wide to drink as much as possible. Master had noticed the odorous smell getting rather bad. The cart had been removed, although the sissy's wife and several other slaves remained bound in various devices on the stage. Each showing the results of the night’s debauchery all over their satisfied bodies. Then, the sound of sissy squeals attracted a few braver souls to watch as Numnutts showed off his strength by finally fishing the squealing, soaking sissy out of his pit, before unceremoniously dragging the disgraced former man out the back of the former church with the cries of “Fag”, “Sissy” and “Poof” ringing in his ears. Master followed the pair outside directing the larger man to take the sissy out to the flagpole. To the sissy’s further distress, he could see yet another new and rather odd contraption hanging from the pole. “Please, Master. I will do anything. Please, no.” The sissy babbled fearful of whatever evil idea his Master had in mind. “Do shut up, you fairy. You know as well as I do that you will do anything I say, and your twisted gurly-boi brain will love it. Now, Numnutts, give the thing a good rinse with the hose, it smells like a urinal after a rugby club’s new year's party.” Numnutts merely nodded and walked off to get the hose. The sissy dropped to his knees crawling in the dewy grass towards his owner, before bending forward and started to lick the superior man's boots. The warm evening air filled with Masters hearty laugh, over the pathetic sound of a lapping tongue on leather. “I don’t know why I always think the next humiliation or degrading act I do will be the one that makes you stand up and say no. But you take it all like a lowly bitch. I use your wife as my toy and I think 'this will be time.’ But no, you willingly help me no matter how perverted or painful the act. Now you are licking my boots, like the broken runt of the litter. A man would walk off. A real man might try and hit me for all I have done. But you, and that slag of a wife, take it all. And, to top it all off, the nicer I am the more you hate it.” Master roared with laughter again as the sissy blushed redder than a fire engine. Even so, the sissy did not stop shining the boots until Numnutts returned with the hose. “Good man. To prove to sissy baby Lottie what a waste of a Y-chromosome he is, stand him next to the pole.” None too kindly, the man grabbed the shivering sissy and frog marched him to the pole with a huge slab of a hand holding the back of his neck. “Now sissy baby Lottie, the faggyest fairy in town, put your arms up and spread your legs nice and wide.” With a tear of shame in his eye, the sissy followed the order, staring straight at the floor while the hose started to stiffen as the water rushed down the inside of the long, green tube. The sissy flinched as the icy water rained down over him. His jaw clenched in concentration as he willed his arms and legs not to move as Master’s ‘muscle’ attached what looked like something you use to clean a car with on the hose nozzle, and with a huge grin stepped forward. Scrubber The sissy looked down at a spot beneath him as he had been trained to do. He concentrated hard to ignore looking to see what Master and his minions were laughing about. Instead concentrating on the spot on the ground as the training had been left burnt into the sissy’s brain. The history of experience: from hours of standing next to his wife, when they were both in humiliating outfits that still left their naughty parts exposed to anyone who glimpsed into the front window of their house. For six, long hours the pair had been made to stand and forced to stare at the camera on the floor. The clever software was set up to track their eye movements. Even blinking too long would trigger the electric shocks from the fist-sized and shaped plugs that had been crammed into their asses. That day had been difficult, but it still contained one of sissy’s favourite memories: following that training, kneeling at Master's feet, sissy was able to do nothing but stare at his owner's boots, he had spent an hour polishing to an army level of shine, showing he had learnt the lesson. The reward of not only praise and pets, but a hot slice of Master’s pizza each, for both not activating the shocks for the last of those six hours was still a treasured memory. The happy thought was interrupted with the feeling of the stinking sissy dress being peeled from his hairless chest. Then, a coarse brush was scrubbed over his feminine chest. The sissy whimpered, not daring to look away from the spot even as it was blocked by the large boots and bare legs of his tormentor. Each swipe from the brush brought a new higher pitched wail from the sissy as Numnutts deliberately would make sure to somehow scrub around every sensitive area. Leaving it for last, but still manages to constantly catch and swipe his puffy and sore nipples as well as the tender flesh between his legs. The man continued, with the sissy having to bite down hard on his lip in order to not scream out, and every muscle in the sissy’s neck tensed so hard it was as if they would pop out of his skin trying to keep his head bowed in submission. Still, the scraping between his inner thighs felt like Numnutts’s was removing layers of skin with each violent and grinding stroke of the brush. With an annoyed grunt, Numnuttss smacked the sissy’s burning flesh to spread his legs wider. Quaking with fear, the sissy had to will his legs to obey and slightly crouch to give unprotected access to his worthless sissy bump and tender areas of his crotch. The large guy grunted, again, an evil smile lighting up over his face. The sissy couldn’t help but screw his eyes up as the brush was placed against his sissy parts. Then, like the end of a hyped movie, the brush moved across the skin delicately, even lovingly. The bristles weren't pleasant but, after the abuse they had delivered to the rest of his body, it was like a massage. Though, as soon as the sissy visibly relaxed, the horny man struck. One meaty hand grabbed hold of the sissy’s hair while he angrily brushed the sissy’s withered egg sacs fast and hard. The poor sissy screamed out in pain, his legs buckling under him leaving him hanging painfully by the hair in Numnutts’s iron drip. “Hey, twat bag!” Master shouted out. “If you damage my sissy, rather than it bent over for your cock, it will be enjoying your tongue instead.” The sissy’s Owner strode over to check on the weeping sissy now crumpled in the sodden dirt. Numnuttss bowed in deference trying to help the poor creature up. “You dumb oaf.” Master spoke coldly as he cuffed the large man around the ear. “Go get the washing line! Seems the pair of you can't even manage simple things without screwing up.” Master squatted down and gently checked the sissy over. “You’ll live” Master decreed. “Now get up and into position MY SISSY.” Master said giving the contrite Numnuttss a death stare as the sissy gingerly stood back up. “Good gurl sissybaby Lottie.” Master said gently rubbing the sissy’s back. “Now, kiss the brush!” The sissy quickly lent forward to kiss the instrument of his previous torture before looking at Master. “Were you ever a man, baby dick?” “No, Master. I was born a weak-willed failure to serve a powerful man like you.” “Suck it up” Master sneered as he took the brush and finished cleaning the sissy himself. What A View After a thorough scrubbing by Master, sissy baby Lottie was still left a sobbing mess. While taking much more care than the brutish Numnutts. Master’s use of the stiff bristles still scrubbed every single millimetre of skin. The sissy’s hairless and moisturised body now glowed a healthy pink in all but a few places, where the heavy-handed brute’s efforts had left angry, red blotches. “Daylight is a wasting.” Master said, pulling the sissy from the muddy puddle he was standing in. To the amusement of some of the minions who had joined them outside, the sissy was spun this way and that. The stinky dress pulled back over his head before being made to bend and arch to show off his sissy body more as Master pretended to check his property for damage. The sissy felt Master deliberately kept him bent over, holding his ass cheeks wide for what felt like an age sapping the little dignity he had left. With a huge slap to the sissy's ass Master growled “Keep that ass spread wide.”, then grabbing the sissy’s ear before leading him to the flag pole while the sissy kept his butt cheeks held wide. “Turn round and stand straight, fag. arms up.” Master demanded The sissy obeyed, part of him glad his arse was given some rest from being held so wide open. The sissy did nothing as he felt Master pulling thick straps around his chest and waist. Then, painfully, Master pulled another thick strap under his crotch, crushing his poor sissy eggs while forcing his thighs apart. As Master pulled and secured his wrists to something beside the sissy’s head, a hidden figure fitted spreader bars between his knees and ankles to hold them open. With a final pair of straps over his shoulder, attaching to the chest strap, Master gave each strap a final tug to ensure the sissy was snug. Each strap now really pressing and cinching him tightly in the harness. “Raise the pissy puff ball” Master ordered. The sounds of grunts filled the air, then the sissy felt his arms raise. Suddenly, the humiliation kicked in. Whatever raised him, yanked him off the ground, only for him to bounce. Just like the kinky baby he longed to be. The air got cooler and the village came into view as he was hoisted higher. A pathetic bouncing sissy baby for all to see if they just looked up. All he could do was gently bounce up and down feeling the tears sting his eyes as his aching balls swelled in the tight confines and dripped more sissy juice. Cucked again As the sissy gently bobbed up and down in the adult bouncer as two minions hoisted him high, the remaining of Master’s minions filled out onto the patio joining the few personal friends invited to stay behind to enjoy the debauchery. The air was soon full of laughter as they saw the fairy ascend to his perch, his body going tomato red in humiliation. The small crowd watched as the sissy baby reached the apex, his squeals from the harness constantly crushing his egg sack on each bounce growing fainter as he rose higher. They quickly grew bored and soon two guys and a girl were tied to the trellis as a Master and Mistress couple thrashed theirbuttocks and backs. Another group had pulled out puppy gear and were happily running around the grass, and explored the gardens, while a huge body builder type “dog” chased and conquered his puppy prey. As the puppies ran around, a cat-girl and cat-boi nuzzled together on a patio table as one minion was busy placing another minion in pony gear. The final, smaller, group were surrounding a cute trans girl suspended from the thick gazebo support beams. The talented Mistress teasing her toy as she discussed finer points of technique with a Master, While he was tying other minions to various parts of the ancient wood structure. Finally, from high up and through the pain of his bouncing, the sissy saw his wife. She was kneeling at Master’s feet, her body slightly slumped against Master’s leg, as the man petted her like one might a demanding pet. A bright pink straight jacket was binding her arms in place. But the chest panels were removed, allowing her large breasts free. The glint of the early-evening sun showed two sets of nipple clamps and he could just make out the weights hanging and pulling her udders down. The constant bouncing made it hard to focus, but he could make out some marks on her bare thighs. The sissy could just about make out that she had that spacy, high look she had when in her happy space. The sissy watched Master chatting to a lady dressed more like a demon than that of a traditional Domme. Though, the sissy baby Lottie was more interested in the sissy kneeling at the Domme’s feet dressed in a bright pink maid’s dress, with so many petticoats the bottom of the sissy’s delectable bum was visible even from bouncing high above. As the pair of betters spoke, a minion was summoned and quickly grabbed a few friends. The first to return carried a bucket of ice with a bottle of something expensive as she skillfully juggled several glasses. Behind them, minions carried a bench and two of the see-through “fuck tables”. Lottie was well-acquainted with those fuck tables, having spent many hours inside the mean device over the years. The “fuck table” was simple. The top was removable, allowing an occupant to be placed inside. Their mouth would be stretched around a rubber ring-gag also attached to the table side. The ring was designed to stretch to accommodate anything that was pushed through and thick enough to stop any teeth catching on flesh. The “occupant’s” thighs were then strapped to a ratchet device and their ankles attached to the built-in manacles on the table's legs to stop involuntary kicking. Then the occupant is simply lined up with the rear opening with the top then locked back into place. This leaves the sub tightly secured and, thanks to the box being made from a thick clear glass, easily on display. Plus, there are the added benefits of being a usable table and with nothing more than a simple click of the ratchets the sub is open and available for sexual use. With a squawk of protest, the sissy was easily manipulated into the first box with just a pause for the pretty silk knickers to be removed. The poor boy’s face was barely visible with the rubber tube firmly between his teeth and the frills of his dress and petticoat being stuffed in around him. Shapely feminine legs encased in fine silk stockings were locked in place leaving the sissy helpless to his fate. He would only be able to feebly knock on the glass as his garbled begging was muted very quickly as a man slid his large cock into the front hole while his Mistress placed her glass and bucket of sparkling wine on top to continue her conversation with his own Master. As the Dominatrix continued her talk about best way to fuck with a sissy, Master was fitting Lottie’s submissive wife into the other “table”. The slave girl had eagerly opened her mouth and deliberately wriggled to the point of mushing her face into the glass wall to take as much of the rubber tube into her mouth as possible. As she wriggled forward, she never broke eye contact. “One trained fuck hole.” The Mistress said, seeing the pure devotion on the slave's face. “She’s a nasty little fuck whore. Though, with the maggot-dicked sissy in his adorable baby night dress sharing her ‘bed’, it's no wonder a nasty cum-dump this one became for some real men cock!” Master exclaimed as the curvy slave-girl moaned loud enough for the sissy, from his high perch, to be able to hear and his ears burnt in shame. Before Master secured the married woman’s thick thighs into the awaiting restraints, he paused, then he started to pinch the bound woman’s clit. Master continued to pinch and flick the subby’s defenseless bean, his gloved hand gently started to slap the moaning subby’s bare lips already slick with her excitement. Master continued to slap, steadily increasing the force until the moans slowly turned to muffled groans of a sub in a heady mix of pleasure and pain, muffled by the tube in her mouth. With each slap, Master watched the pussy lips grow puffier as the pinkness turned red. Happy with his work, Master stopped the slaps and pinching. With a wet 'plop', he forced a metal, egg-shaped vibration unit in, allowing the water-proof cable attached to the unit to hang free. Master attached a small control panel, adjusting the setting on the simple turn knob from ‘high’ to ‘low’, checking it is working before leaving it on a low, continuous hum. In the box, Naïve’s mind was swimming in emotions but found each was hard to concentrate on. The feeling of tightness from the jacket immobilising her arms, to the glass box restricting her further. The taste of the rubber ring stretching her jaw had the sterile taste of cleaning wipes and her own drool starting to form around it. The egg in her love canal was worse than the throbbing waves of pain from her pussy. It was far too tame to do more than just make her frustrated and needing cock. Her thought stopped as she felt cold steel against her now-puffy lips. The gag forced her to look up and forward, but just the touch from the rigid surgical steel brought the memory of the times Master had shown her pussy in the mirror. The pain from the bands of steel digging into her poor tender labia. In the mirror, they had turned a dark crimson and even the faintest touch sent sparks of pain up to her brain then straight to her clit, making her crazily excited. Master was, again, gently rubbing her lips, agonisingly tightening to a quarter of a turn too much for her to take. She took long, deep breaths willing her legs wider, not wishing to add a pussy whipping like what happened the first time he touched and her legs slammed shut. By now she had learnt to spread wider forcing her pussy towards him. She gargled a cry of thanks as, this time, he didn’t wait and tease more as he tightened the outer screws until the inner clamps met. Leaving her poor pussy lips caught with the now ultra-sensitive ends touching together. The jolts of pain from the two lips rubbing against each other turned to a greater yearning to be fucked hard. It was a burning desire. She could feel the straps locking her legs together and she started to mew. Everything felt connected and spacey as every button seemed to be pushed, yet sweet release to enter her even greater highs was needed. The laughter around her rang in her ears making her face burn in shame, yet she still wriggled and strained in her bonds as she offered her available holes for use. With both occupants of the fuck tables secured and open, the remaining minions went to town. The sissy was immediately about to be spit roasted from either end. A guy from behind pulled a butt plug the size of a fist out of the sissy’s peachy ass cheeks. The guy paused for a moment in wonder at the size of the plug before tossing it aside and shoving his Coke can sized dick inside the captive fairy. As Master and the captive fairy's Mistress shared tales of humiliating and degrading their sissy toys. Another minion stopped thrusting and pushed his nine-inch monster deep into the bound “man’s” tight throat. The minion convulsed as a month’s worth of built-up tension was released with a giant moan of satisfaction. “Miss Marsha. This is one super tight bitch.” “She has her uses for sure.” the Mistress laughed. “Be a dear and place a bucket under my husband. While he knows he must not spill, the dumb air-head does go a little cock crazy and can forget to drink his reward.” The minion took his dick out of the sissy, bowed his head, and fetched a glass bowl. Upon returning, he had to manoeuvre around an impatient minion who had taken his place and was enjoying the sissy's long and talented tongue lapping on her pussy. As the table sissy was being thoroughly used beside her, Naïve was already shaking as she tried not to orgasm as permission had not been given. Ignoring the slave's turmoil, a well-endowed Dom was slamming his long cock deep into her mouth. The slave worked her tongue around the head before it was pistoned back in hard and deep. At the other end, a petite minion was destroying her ass with an obscene horse cock-shaped strap-on. The thing was close to fourteen inches long and looked even longer on her tiny frame. “I'm going to screw you so hard you’ll be walking bow legged for a week. Then my huge cock will be going down the sissy’s throat before I fuck him ten ways from Sunday too.” the minion hollered, slapping the ass of the helpless wifey. “I think that will make my sissy jealous!” Master roared with laughter as the minions slammed their love meat home over and over bringing Naïve to a bone-shattering orgasm. “I think the poor thing had another orgasm so soon.” the Mistress laughed. “I don’t remember it asking for permission. Do you Marsha?” Master asked the giggling Domme. “I don’t think the poor thing is capable of articulating the day of the week. Still rules are rules.” She replied. “I don’t think wifey had a chance to taste your marvellous whips?” Master pointed out to Marsha. “Very true.” Mistress Marsha replied, “I would gladly remind the slave of its place and to teach it not to embarrass a fine gentleman such as yourself.” Inside the box Naïve had come back to Earth from the toe-curling orgasm and listened in terror as the sadistic pair discussed ideas of what could be done for penance for her shameful disobedience. Still, the talk of whips and welts made her head swim with delicious thoughts of her poor body being flayed and bruised. As a new cock pressed against her rosebud, she groaned in excitement. Her body buzzing with exhilaration as a thick penis split her open, as she drooled uncontrollably while a pretty blonde waggled a huge slick fake dick in front of her face. Solid Ground For hours, the sissy endured the constant bouncing. Each bounce crushed his tiny sissy sac inside the thick leather crotch strap. Each bounce he stared down watching a seemingly endless stream of people using his wife’s ass and mouth. Each bounce, if he looked up, he could see the gawking faces of people not quite sure what they glimpsed from above the old church roof. Each bounce being able to hear his Master’s degrading comments clearer. Each bounce the now-cold evening breeze chilling him in his pathetic sissy outfit. Then, a sudden lurch as the bouncing device was slowly lowered. As he reached the floor, the chimes of the newer bells from the town hall rang out for eight pm. The sissy stood and offered no resistance to the minions. The masked figures swiftly removed the harness and freeing him from the evil bouncer and handing him a pair of frilly undies. He looked around seeing the results of the Tops invited to the private after party. He focused on his wife, now drenched in sweat from the serious fucking destruction she endured. The air was thick with the musk of the drying cum coating her legs leading up to the shiny base of a butt plug between her bruised ass cheeks. He knew how tired and hot she must be from the multiple times he had been locked inside. Your jaw ached from the hard rubber holding you wide. Your face was sticky from the drool constantly pooling around your chin as all you can taste is the mix of plastic and lots and lots of cum. The sissy wanted to run to her and release her. Hug her and make sure she is ok. But the thought of Master’s look of anger, annoyance or, weirdly worse, of disappointment was enough for any thoughts of chivalry to quickly flee away as he felt his cheeks turn pink as he wet his new pink girly panties. “For fuck's sake, you worthless waste of skin.” Master said. His fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in disdain and exasperation from owning such a feeble thing. “Pissed yourself again. I can tell by the gormless and vacant look on your face. I was going to let you rest and have your wife ride my new toy. But you have shown, yet again, how even in the simple task of standing still you can’t help but show what an impotent and inept ‘man’ you really are.” Master turned on heel barking at two minions playing with another sub to bring the sissies and slaves. He offered his arm to the delectable Mistress Marsha. “Always the gentleman.” she laughed in reply and the pair walked back into the church arm in arm. Clean Up on Aisle A.. Inside the church, more guests continued their play as a thumping music track played from the hidden speakers. The two sissies were dragged by a female minion gripping their upper arms tightly. The pair remained silent keeping their eyes down in submission, having to concentrate not to stumble in their sissy heels. “Strap the sissy to the side facing the wall.” Master demanded before continuing to whisper to his friend. “Sorry Sir” the minion stammered, “They are both sissies?” “I am obviously talking about the useless one.” “Errrr” the minion started but the hard look from both Tops shut her up. Pausing for a second of indecision she forced the sissy maid to his knees and shoved the sissy baby to the rack. The device seemed to be a simple frame of iron bars in a grid. The sissy baby rested his back against the bars. As the minion pulled the first leather strap tight just under his armpits, he couldn’t help but to swell in his cage. As more straps were added around his chest, tummy, and above his hips, he started to whimper as his little peepee was getting so excited it was pushing hard against the steel. The minion worked fast, adding straps around the sissy’s wrists and more above and below each elbow before adding another around the sissy’s upper arms, tightening both a notch too tight. She ignored the whimpering pansy as she knelt. As she was about to start immobilising the legs, she noticed the sissy gyrating. She peaked under the short skirt seeing the swollen and red bump through the wet knickers. The Minion peered around the sissy seeing Master was chatting away. She took a moment to pull the sissy's wet panties to the side. The excited ‘manhood’ was so small she felt a pang of sorrow for the wife currently laying at Master’s feet, if this is what she had had at home. She ran her fingertips over the sensitive flesh pushing between the iron bars of the chastity cage. The sissy meowed in excitement from the soft fingers on his painful bump. As she moved her hand the sissy strained against the thick leather strap. He then had to hold his breath so as to not make a sound that would let on to the fact that he gained erotic sensations from his neglected failed manhood. “This is for interrupting my fun” the minion hissed, yanking down hard on the cage before pushing it between the sissy’s legs. The sissy bit down on his tongue to stop the howl of pain as his little thing was pushed back between his legs like the most extreme of drag act tucks. The minion forced the sissy’s thighs together, trapping his locked sissy bump. She quickly strapped them together, forcing the leather so tight it dug into the skin. After adding more straps around the sissy’s ankles and knees leaving him totally immobile, the minion bowed before the Master “Sir, I have finished with the straps. What else may I do to assist you, Sir?” “Very good, girl. You can go have fun. I will finish up.” Master stood back to allow the young help to dash back to her own fun. Sissy was in more discomfort than when in the bouncer. His bump was now an awful ache as his bonds refused to yield to his feeble attempts to free his sissy wiener. “Stop fidgeting, fairy boi” Master said with a loud slap to his face. “If you were any kind of man, you would have put up a fight all those years ago. So just stay still and be a good bitch.” Worried he had shown his Lord and Master up, the sissy willed himself as still as he could. Master ignored the sissy and slipped a padded object behind the useless sissy’s head. “It's a modified head restraint they use in car crash tests.” Master explained to the Mistress who had come over for a closer look. “How clever” she replied, seeing how the lower half was pushed over the shoulder and fastened tight around the sissy’s neck forcing him to look straight ahead. The top half was strapped over the forehead and under the chin, locking the sissy’s head in place such that the device held the sissy’s head perfectly still. To finish it off, the sissy’s nose was held shut with nose pegs. The sissy remembered seeing swimmers on the tv use such pegs. “Grab your sissy maid for the next part, if you would.” Master said to Marsha Master took a piece of metal that looked like a stool, but with the seat sloped down to the floor from the rack. He locked it in such a way that it connected to the bar protruding from the metal frame. The Mistress grabbed the worried gurl via her attached lead and directed the maid to stand ready behind the rack. “She needs to sit down?” Marsha enquired. “One moment” Master replied, pressing a button. For sissy Lottie, he struggled to hear what was going on with the padding gripping his head making it hard to hear. Then, everything twisted as if a chair fell backwards. He closed his eyes in terror as he lurched backwards. The clang of metal against metal would have certainly made him pee in fright if his poor bump wasn’t being crushed between his thighs. He could hear voices and opened his eyes as he heard a popping sound, only to see the frills of a petticoat lower towards him. A second to late it dawned on the sissy what his fate was, as the feminised maid sat on his face. The sissy froze in place, very overwhelmed with everything he was experiencing. There was still discomfort from the overly tight straps and ache in his sissy eggs being pulled so tight between his clamped thighs. The layers of petticoat along with the heavy satin of the sub’s poofy dress made it all but black and made the air stuffy and filled with a strong odour of sex. With a rustle of petticoat, Marsha reached under her maid’s dress and with an audible ‘POP’ that was so loud many partiers paused, and look up at the screen showing what was occurring, to see what might have happened in the room to make such a sound, with a screen inside the room showing people in the main hall looking at them, causing the simpering maid to burn a right red in humiliation. Even from under the petticoats, sissy baby Lottie could hear the people laughing from the rest of the ex-church and cringed as he was now so used to being the object of the crowd's derision, he presumed it was for him. Distracted by the powerful stench of fresh cum, sissy baby Lottie squealed in surprise as suddenly the rack tried to self-right, shooting his face up and deep between the maid's cheeks. With his face wedged deep in the gaping boi pussy, the sissy baby was overcome by the powerful odour of man seed. His little manhood twitched in its cage as he felt the still-warm spunk from the maids well fucked ass drip onto his face. The sexual frustration encompassed his body as he wanted nothing more than relief from the many months of constant chastity. “Dumb, worthless sissy. Start licking, you dumb faggot” Master roared, twisting the sissy’s nipples hard and crashing the sissy back down from the thoughts of his own sweet release back to his rightful place of pleasing all others. With a timid lick the sissy baby’s tongue snaked upwards, tasting the mixture of multiple men's salty love cream. As his tongue moved slowly into the male maid’s abused and stretched fuck hole the quivering feminized husband started to wriggle, pushing himself down harder on the sissy baby’s face. Master grinned as the sweet moans of the Maid grew and he started to gyrate on Master’s bound toy’s face. Master wasn’t going to let the sissy maid off that easily and just lay back and enjoy. Master selected two identical devices, passing one to Marsha. The Domme looked over the elegantly simple device. She placed the ring of metal against the sissy maid’s tiny A cups. From the ring, a tall loop of metal stuck out holding the nasty jaws of a clover clamp. The clamp was locked on a threaded rod, allowing the clamp to be both raised and twisted independently. “I must get a pair of these for a client. I will enjoy using them on her as her boyfriend watches on.” Marsha said. “It's the first time the sissy baby fuckface had the pleasure of experiencing them. But the slut over there ‘loves’ them.” Master replied as Naïve cringed remembering its cruel bite and the humiliation of how much it turned her on, as the two dominants laughed at her reaction. “Ladies first.” Master conceded. Watching as Marsha held the device tight as she used her fingers to stimulate the sissy baby’s nipple. Her long nails teased the flesh around the nipple before she went back to gently teasing with her fingers like she was stimulating a lover’s manhood. “Oh Mistress” the maid lisped “please do more of that. The sissy’s tongue is mmmm...” the maid trailed off into some intelligible gibberish as he practically vibrated in pleasure. “Let's see what this does to the sissy” Marsha exclaimed pulling the soft titty flesh up as she opened the jaws of the clamps. Under the dress the sissy baby panted openly as he felt soft fingers suddenly tease his sissy titty. Each soft pull and tweak drove his tongue to search out more of the real men's ejaculations left in the maid's boi pussy. He could still taste what felt like a pint of the yummy sissy treat and feel more coating his face from when he must have hit the other guy's sissy spot as a river of cock cream rushed down and his face. as even more spunk flowed from the maid’s ass filling his mouth so fast, He could not swallow it quick enough. As some poured from the sides of his mouth, the sissy maid convulsed again as another load drained out, coating the sissy baby’s face dripping down into his hair as the tight bondage left the sissy immobilised. Without warning, the fingers stopped. The sissy baby moaned in frustration into the ass crack; his face was deeply wedged. Panic started to rise as the finger now pinched his titty flesh firmly. The sissy stopped his licking as his tummy churned with a sense of dread. The jaws of the clamp snapped shut onto his sissy breast stimulated sensitive flesh, the sissy howled. The tight bonds easily held him down as much as the sissy wanted to dislodge the source of the pain. The tears burned his eyes as the initial pain drifted away and the dread rose as thick strong fingers pulled and mauled his other nipple. Twist to go Faster Forced to lay back and take it, the sissy baby could feel himself enter a deeper headspace. His thoughts were muddy and hard to hold onto, as every nerve in his body became hypersensitive. From the muscles straining to thrash around from the pain. To the sticky feeling growing in his crotch and the pleasurable squeezing of his nipples as it was pulled up and then the pain as the teeth of the clamp bit down. Master and Marsha watched in delight as the sissy just stiffened from the pain flowing from his clamped teats. Masha teasingly grazed the tips of her manicured nails up and down the sissy’s bare legs seductively. As Master traced the edges of the devices with his gloved hands. “She’s stopped” the maid squeaked disappointedly. “She?” Master stared at the maid. “This is an object for me to use for MY amusement. It’s not a she! It is a thing.” “I am truly sorry, Sir” the maid whimpered in fear, refusing to turn and risk a peak towards his owner. “You better give the crowd a show, Krissy, or you might find yourself as the balls in a game of Roshambo.” Marsha replied. Her eyes twitching in anger. “I will be the best for you Mistress, I promise, I will dance and moan and show what a dirty slapper I am for you, Goddess.” he lisped in desperation as the memories of two beautiful women taking turns kicking his little balls flooded back. “Marsha, be a dear and give the sissy some encouragement” Master smiled pointing to the sissy baby’s eggs and closing his fist like it was a claw. Marsha nodded in understanding. With the tips of her nail’s. Marsha teased the sensitive flesh of the sissy’s stubby like penis painfully pushed against the metal. The more she teased the more the sissy visibly relaxed to the point a moan was heard from under the petticoats. With perfect timing Marsha started to close her claw. Slowly but firmly pushing her nail’s together digging into the caged cock. In time with the dominatrix, Master turned the screws of the mediaeval-looking device, making the clamps raise up, pulling the sissy flesh up into the device’s cups. “I hope you can hear this faggot,” Master said, aimed at the sissy baby, “but unless sissy bitch Krissy is writhing like a porn star riding a 12-inch dick, we are going to hurt you more.” Master twisted the device around his captive’s sissy’s breasts, twisting his already straining nipples. The sissy cried out at the shooting pain in his nipples and ‘clit’ as he tried to struggle in the bonds. His need to obey and please still overrode the pain, as the Master’s words broke through the sharp pain. With massive effort and concentration, he forced his tongue out and desperately lapped, twirled and everything else he could think of. As the ass smothering his face started to gyrate, the sissy baby felt the pain subside. He pushed harder than he thought possible to stretch his tongue to tease the sissy’s sweet spot. The moans were getting louder as he felt the maid begin to vibrate in joy. The awful pain in his bump was replaced with the constant teasing of the Domme's talon, milking him of his weak watery sissy cum through the bars of his chastity cage. The horrible twisting of his nipples had stopped, replaced with the slow pulling that Master favoured. He could feel his nipples throb in pain from the crushing clamps yet the slow pulling sensation was making him shiver in pleasure. Giving up his body for use by his superiors caused all the sensations into a drug hit to his brain making himself feel floaty. Until, suddenly, an eye-watering pain shot from his nipples, feeling them twist. He quickly picked back up his pace hearing his whimpers lost into the ass crack in which his face was lodged. A Rest... The sissy was spent. His tongue and jaw ached from the seemingly endless lapping he had been forced to produce. His poor sissy stub throbbed in equal amounts from the torment of the talons teasing just the right spots and from the burning stabs of those talons impaling tender flesh. His nipples were nothing more than a dull ache. The twisting and pulling had continued, manipulating him like he was a machine. Twisting his nipples to speed up and relaxing to slow down. As such, they had drawn out the desperate powderpuff’s desire to empty his very blue balls. From the wriggling on his face and the very unmanly squees of joy emitting from the hairless weakling the sissy baby hoped the maid was close. His tongue was so dry after licking at the sissy’s special spot for so long. Any time he had felt he got the sissy close his poor nut sack got a squeeze. Any time he slowed down his poor bump got the talons. With what he hoped was a final effort he pushed up hard using everything he had to really grind down on the sissy pleasure spot. Sissy baby Lottie lapped and rubbed fast and hard as he could to finally be rewarded with a super high-pitched squeal of joy and the feel of watery sissy cream dribble down into his hair. He kept licking just in case but slowed down as the femboi shuddered with yet another high pitch squeal as the sissy maid’s final sissygasm spread joy through his body. Unlike a real man's explosion of hot and thick cum, it was more like a leaking faucet that would occasionally sputter as the sissy juice dribbled out of the chastity device before the maid crumpled towards the floor. With the male maid’s slow collapse to the floor in orgasmic bliss he slid too far no longer holding the frame and its sissy prisoner down. With a scream of fear the sissy was violently flipped up, as the rack snapped itself-back upright, accompanied by another sissy squeal as Krissy was bumped off the stool to land on the floor face first. The onlookers gasped with concern at first until the dopey sissy giggled and sighed as he flopped to the floor drained dry for the first time in years. As his Mistress’s shiny designer heels filled his vision, he weakly pressed his lips to the red leather. “Oh, Mistress that was so wonderful...” he lisped dreamily “Now you had a lesson in pussy licking. You better do a better job than earlier, or you will be in this fool’s position.” Marsha barked, grasping the sissy by his arm and dragged him towards a private room. Master chuckled, knowing the maid was still in for several hours of hard work. Master then walked back around to stare at his own pathetic excuse for a Y-chromosome. “You, yet again, prove what a lowly worm you are.” Master sneered, looking at the sissy who had a face smeared with cum. “Still, it can't be denied that you did manage to bring that fairy to a literally knee trembling orgasm. So, I finally found a use for you. And even a fuck-wit like you can't make a total embarrassment of themselves, strapped to my new rack.” “I'm trying my best for you, Master. I really am. I am really sorry...” the sissy quickly babbled until silenced by Master just raising his hand. “I don’t want to hear more of your sissy drivel. I would gag you, but the ladies tell me you actually have decent technique with your lips. So, no crying, whining, or complaining. If I hear as little as one complaint, I will give you to the rugby club to act as chief sweaty ball cleaner again!” The sissy nodded in reply, trying to hide the huge smile on his face as he remembered the over forty men forcing him to lick clean every single sweaty beefy man before spending the night locked to the broken urinal. “Probably be a while before anyone is in need of your services.” Master started, pushing the rack back down to be sat on. “Come here you cheating slapper” Master barked at the kneeling Naïve. “Hurry up” he growled as she struggled to her feet with her arms still restrained in the straightjacket. With a great deal of strain and grunts of effort the well-used slave managed to stand up and quickly dashed over to her beloved owner. Master reached and pulled the plug from her ass then quickly shoved her down on the sissy’s face. Master watched for a few minutes, enjoying the look of humiliation all over Naïve’s face, as her sissified husband was so enthusiastically eating strangers’ cum from her well-fucked ass. While she was unable to stop herself loudly moaning as his talented tongue hit all the right spots. The noise was loud enough to bring people over to see what was going on. “I can't have a slave cunt sit around.” Master said, reaching into his bag pulling out a pair of nipple clamps, each with a thick and heavy shot glass attached. “You fetch me a bottle of vodka and rum. Quickly now!” he ordered a nearby minion. Naïve closed her eyes as she could feel Master grabbed her breast and snapped the clamp down on her nipple. The slave girl could feel her toes curl from the rubber-coated metal snapping shut and had to bite her own lip to stop from screaming out. “You're my brave slut.” Master whispered in her ear. As the warm touch from his bared hand rubbed the back of her neck. “Only you can do this for ME. I know you hate me hurting your nipples but for ME you will do anything cause you’re MY cunt, MY pain slut and MY toy.” His words made her needy pussy practically glow red as each word lit fires of arousal . “YOU want me to place this other clamp on and show off the magnificent breasts of the toy I own.” Master continued his voice low and seductive. Naïve could only nod in agreement. “That’s my good girl” Master whispered as the slave pulled her shoulders back, as much as the jacket allowed, pushing her large breast out. The hand on the neck continued its rhythmic massage of her neck as he deftly and gently closed the second clamp down. Naïve melted into the pain. She wanted it to show Master how much she adored him and that she didn’t own her body. Master did, and she couldn’t show him up. The thought was too painful. “Ask the nice boy to fill the glasses with the drink he so kindly fetched.” Master whispered. “Thannnk Yooou kind Sirrr. Pleeeeease fill my titty glaaasses with drink.” she croaked. “Louder!” Master growled, his hand moving from massaging her neck to firmly grasping a handful of hair as his other hand reached between her legs. “Please fill my titty glasses. Please, Sir. Please!” she begged. “Shout it so all can hear.” he commanded! Master yanked her hair back and slid her forward on her weak willed husband's face. His strong fingers forced her to look up at the celling as his finger slipped under the device clamping her pussy shut to grind on her raw clit. “OH, PLEASE FILL THIS HUMBLE CUNT’S TITTY GLASSES. I BEG OF YOU. FILL THEM UP TO THE BRIM SO IT HURTS MORE.” Naïve screamed, feeling the shackles of inhibitions start to fall away. The minion carefully poured vodka into the first glass; A gasp of pain stuck in her throat as she felt the increased strain. The minion switched to the rum and filled the other glass as Naïve lost herself to the freedom of being an owned slave. Naïve sighed a small cry of “OH” as Master let go of her hair and the hand stopped teasing her and grabbed her ring on the front of her collar pulling her up and on her feet. Holding the collar with an iron grip, he pulled her up onto her tip toes before lifting the rum glass and downing it. Taking a leash from his bag he clipped it to the slave girls collar ring. Keeping his grip tight on the ring and still looking his piggy in the eyes, he demanded. “Grab those bottles and follow us.” The minion meekly picked the bottles as he watched the sissy flip up with a yelp of surprise. Noticing the Host disappear into the crowd, the flustered minion grabed the bottles and quickly dashed after the Master and slave as the rack was pulled back down for the sissy to clean up a new client. The minion was almost jealous as the hot blonde started to grind on the sissy’s face. A Reward? The party had raged on throughout the night. The sissy had remained strapped to the device for nearly ten hours before Master had plucked the sissy from his bindings and led the wobbly pansy to a private room. There, Master commanded the sissy strip before releasing the spacy Naïve from her straitjacket. Once the pair were naked, he put them in a large bath and gently cleaned his well-used toys. The pair were well aware of some of the more unpleasant devices he had used to clean and punish the owned couple in the past. Thankfully, this time they must have done well as the soft sponge and warm water felt divine on bruised and grimy skin. "Only forty minutes to make the pair of you look presentable again.” Master mocked as his submissives dutifully looked at the floor. They both knelt on the now-wet tiles, knees spread wide and their hands upturned and held a centimeter above their thighs. “Sissy Baby Lottie is so sorry Master.”The pansy whimpered. “I hope we performed adequately for you, Master. Please, correct us if we failed” Naïve added in that dreamy way when she was still in subspace. “For once, you performed well enough. I have no need to punish you, even if you both remain useless ninety nine percent of the time.” The pair bowed their heads further. The shame turned their faces and necks red. The clacks of Master’s cane on the floor made the pair shiver, as he walked towards them. The metal tip of the cane clinked against the sissy’s metal cage as he stopped close enough that each slave could stare down to see their reflection in the polished leather of his boots. Neither daring to move, let alone to look up, not wanting to annoy their Master. The silence was broken by a thud on the floor. The pair could not control their natural reaction as they stared at a fluffy, white towel between them. “I need to go sort something out next door. You will dry yourselves and I expect every last inch of this floor to be bone dry when I return. “But there is only one towel” Naïve spoke, quickly clamping her mouth shut. The girl shrunk into a small ball as she sensed the looming presence of Master bending down as his gloved hand rested against her left cheek. “I'm glad you can finally count that high by yourself.” Master replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he patted her cheek condescendingly. “I could find you a mop I suppose. Would you like to try and dry your hair with a mop?” “No, Master. Please forgive your loyal slave girl. It will not speak out of turn and without thought again.” “My dear girl. You are just not capable of such a promise. But if you remain silent unless you answer a direct question, I will not punish you.” Naïve instinctively went to reply but thankfully she noticed her husband shaking his head ‘no’, saving her from a simple mistake. Master roared with laughter seeing the pathetic pair. “You might be a pansy puff, but at least you still try your best to protect your wifey” the man grinned, his eyes boring through the poor sissy. “Oh, yes Master. sissy baby Lottie is the most pathetic thing on the planet, but sissy baby Lottie does not want either of your slaves to waste your precious time punishing us when we can't help being so dumb.” “With those suck up skills, I can see why you're such a talented cock sucker. I will be back shortly and I expect you both dry. The floor, too.” Master finished turning heel and leaving the room. Once they heard the door lock shut the sissy grabbed the towel and started to rub his wife dry. “Than...” she managed to get out before her sissy hubby clamped his hand over her mouth. “Shhh.” he whispered. “Master may have cameras. We had such a delightful bath, let's not ruin it.” Naïve rolled her eyes in response. Sissy baby Lottie was a worry wart, but it was the kind of thing Master would do then bring it up weeks later. It was odd for the sissy to ever take the lead, but he quickly used just the edges of the towel to pat themselves both dry. Naïve dropped to her knees licking the water from the tiles as sissy baby Lottie squeezed as much water from his hair into the tub and then used the damp towel to dry the bath. After he rubbed down the entire tub including the taps and fittings to a sparkle he neatly laid the towel out and got to helping his slave wife lick the floor dry. Dress Up As the slave couple lapped up the remains of the water, sissy baby Lottie couldn’t help but stare at his wife's large tits swaying beneath the curves of her tummy leading to her bare snatch. Her plump bum showed both new and old welts along with a mix of small bruises starting to form. What worried him was the sight no longer had an effect on his sissy bump. No woman did. But any dick bigger than his tiny thing, made him salivate and want to show how good he was as a cock sucker. The telltale sounds of Master’s cane tapping on the hard floor warned of his imminent arrival. The pair quickly checked for any last remaining droplets before dropping into the wait position. Each sub knelt down their backs and thighs straight. Each crossed their arms behind their backs, each hand grasping the opposite elbow. Their heads bowed, picking a spot on the floor to fixate on to resist the urge to look up as the door opened. “Spotless! What a shame I do enjoy correcting my piggy and the cream puff. Well keep this up might even let you pick a treat when we eventually get back to mine.” Master replied with a mix of annoyance and pride that he was unable to find as much as a single droplet anywhere. “Kitten? You useless gimp! Where the fuck are you?” Master shouted looking into the attached room. The young slave girl shuffled in. The rubber suit from earlier hugged her tiny body, but now a matching hood was locked in place under a large collar forcing her head upright. A large penis gag was forced deep in her mouth, the drool was starting to leak from the corner of red lips, the same shade as the suit she wore. From the wide metal waist band locked around her waist chain ran to her limbs. Anyone looking close to see the chains threaded through a large O ring on the front of the belt, with one chain linked between the metal cuffs around her wrists as another ran down to link to a solid bar. The bar was barely 10 centimetres long and at either end it was locked with large old fashioned brass padlocks to the metal ankle cuffs. A chastity belt sat over the tops of her hips and angled down to the plate that covered her sex. To finish the look off the thigh bands around her thin thighs were locked together with chains running up the side of her legs to the chastity belt. The final set of bands were locked above the elbow with a chain pulled tight between them making any movement she made with her limbs pull on another. Naïve felt a little sorry for the pretty little thing as she shuffled in. She herself had been in the same outfit and bondage. To walk you were forced to crouch and lower your head as you could only take small awkward tottering steps, so you didn't stumble and risk falling flat on your face. She remembered having to bend her wrists inward as you strained against the bicep cuffs to allow you to carry the silver tray. Fortunately for Kitten it was not the wine and glasses she had nearly dropped but a pile of white satin, that she presumed was for the poofter beside her. Painfully slowly the gimp hobbled over and knelt down. She presented the tray up to the very miffed host. “Why do I talk you up. These two failures of humans move quicker than you!” Master sneered, picking the pile of satin and hose from the tray and dumping it in front of the sissy baby. “Cream puff. Get dressed, slap some makeup on and be ready when I am back!” Master demanded, his boot under the crotch of the rebuked woman who couldn’t help but grind on the steel toe caps despite the belt stopping any stimulation. All in the room knew no threats were needed as failure would be something very unpleasant. The sissy glanced at the pile and recognized immediately as the lingerie he wore on his wedding night. He glanced up and from just the look on his owner's face made his tummy lurched like he flew over a hill. Then his cockette started to twitch in anticipation as the sissy wished the ground would swallow him. “Come on, slut. Your holes are far too loose for anyone to get any joy from you tonight, but I do have a use for you” Master growled, yanking the chubby slave from the ground and started to lead her into the attached playroom. “Gimp! Follow the cane taps this time and do hurry up or you will take the place of your girlfriend in the worm suit!” Master barked out his orders with a stern look at the sissy. As everyone left the room the sissy knelt for a minute as he tried to convince himself Master was playing with his head again. The sound of the door lock snapping shut made him jump in fright. He stared down at the sizable pile of bridal satin and lacy frills, All of it the incredibly over the top underwear Master picked out for his wedding. He still remembered the heat from all the layers of underwear in the pale pink ladies suit he wore with a matching pink tie and ladies shoe. By this point most of his family were shocked he was marrying a woman. With a sigh as his little nubbin pulsed with thoughts of the private reception they had after the family had been shooed out the building. He started with the silk seamed stockings with the lacy tops and the pair of frilly garters. Each with a bow detail with a silk pansy detailing, Master was very ‘subtle’ at times. The long line garter belt was a pain to get on as it was so tight and ran from his natural waist and ended with twenty garter tabs, each with a tiny pearl covering on the clasp. It was made with bridal satin but was the most dull of the pieces with no additional decoration, Just required the sissy to breathe in and pull the stiff piece in place. The panties however! It was no doubt Masters' devious design with a talented seamstress who worked magic to create such a sissy overload. The waistband felt tight on his older body as the gathered ruffed and the pink lace skirt detail stretched more than he would like. The sewn in bells still tinkled their delightfully humiliating tune as he tied the side bows tighter so the knickers stayed in place and layed perfect. The sissy twisted his body to check the heart shaped hole in the back of his satin panties lined up with his pussy hole. He could still see the lace around the openings were still frayed and worn from the multiple cocks that used that hole over the years. He still loved the hot pink pair as he turned around to pull his caged “cock” through the matched heart shaped hole on the front. He pulled the panties up tight feeling the bells he added around the lace leg holes to fall free and add to the comic noise. Not even halfway through sissy baby Lottie thought to himself as he pulled an adorable satin bag over his cage, wincing as he realised his little dick barely filled a third of what it had on his wedding day and it was laughably small then! A tear filled his eye as he tied the ribboned opening tight with a big floppy bow. The pansy smoothed the bag out seeing the words “Sissys Big Day” embroidered by his own hand in the pink thread he had chosen in excitement with his sissy maid of honour. The once virginal white satan and the baby pink lace around the opening also showed some cum stains, none of which were his. Lottie reached down to pick up the strips of ribbon that created the ‘bra’. Not that any woman would wear the baby pink satin with its cute organza ruffle edging. The sissy studies his reflection as he pulled the bra over his shoulders. Ensuring the ribbons lay flat, with no twists, and the back bow was straight with the bow tails hanging down. The ruffles tickled his skin as he fitted the triangle of ribbon to frame his tiny sissy tits. While the thought of being seen wearing it mortified him, sissy baby Lottie loved the look. Where the ribbons met each other a pink bow had been sewn over the top. As he closed the bra and straightened yet another bow, he noticed how on his wedding day there was the slightest of swells on his chest. Now he was getting close to an A cup!!! Lottie bent down to pick up the corset. He lovingly stared at the still white design, and if you looked closely you could see the fairy princess pattern in an off white cream colour. His fingers traced the pattern. It had been a gift from his ex-girlfriend who had left when his dressing and love of the sissy lifestyle had been found out when she had found the hidden door behind his bed and the treasure trove of womens clothes and a few cheap sissy dresses. Master had insisted she be invited and was very keen on being asked to be a bridesmaid. Thankfully he accepted a humiliating task to avoid and just had to accept the humiliation of just inviting her and offering to buy her an outfit of her choice. Much to his shock she not only accepted, but turned down the free shopping trip and introduced him to her new wife. It had been nice and the gift had left him bawling his eyes out in the food court of the local shopping centre all those years ago and still made him tear up now. Wiping away the tears the sissy grunted as he tried to fasten the corset closed before finally panicking about time and was messing with the laces when the sound of the door handle brought a sense of dread. “For fuck sakes you worthless faggot. Is it that hard to get dressed now? Maybe I should just dress you everyday too?” Master said exasperation clear on his face. As the sissy shivered in excitement at the thought of the humiliation. “Sissy baby Lottie is very sorry Master. The corset didn't fit and…” “That is because your a soft pudgy faggot. Give me that.” Master replied, snatching the corset from his hands and easily undid the knots. The annoyed host spun the sissy around while pushing him against the wall in a swift motion. His hands groped his exposed ass cheeks making the sissy coo in delight. With ease Master buckled the corset closed before working the laces until the corset was snug. Twisting the laces around his hands Master yanked hard pulling the steel boned garment tighter around the sissy. Lottie could feel the familiar sensation of his ribs protesting as the loverly feel of the satin corset pulling tighter and tighter. Sissy baby Lottie grunted as Master stuck his knee into his back and tugged the laces trying to get the corset to fully close. He tugged this way and that before giving up and tying the laces off leaving the sissy with some Victorian era waist as the corset crushed his waist down to the point where Masters giant hands could almost encircle them. The sissy took slow, small breaths loving the way the corset was pulling him in to give him such a girly figure in the mirror. Lottie could feel his little peenie start to pulse as he thought about being dragged to bed by his owner and begging to be well and truly fucked when his butt exploded with pain as Masters cane lashed across his buttocks. “You're so vain and airheaded, Maybe I should find someone who wants a human doll. Least when you gaze gormlessly into space you can be useful.” Master sneered, pulling the sissy upright before pulling a mask over his head. “No time for make-up sissy baby boi. So have to use one of your girly masks.” Master pulled the silicon mask over his head, lining up the eyes and pushing the soft rubber tube in his mouth and forcing the edge to snap behind his teeth. As the sissy held the mask in place feeling the sticky inside glue to his face. Master laced the mask closed before fluffing up the built-in wig to hide the closure. The sissy looked at the mirror to see his face now with the look of a low class hooker. The sissy had been given multiple female masks and each had been painted by a drag friend of Masters to give different looks. As per the sadist’s wishes, this mask the drag queen had made it look as trashy as possible. Dramatic over the top pink and red eyeshadow with lots of glitter were framed with feminine eyebrow arch and with a thick layer of eye shadow with an added flair to resemble the typical eye liner of Cleopatra. The eye lashes were double layered to give more volume and had been curled to give an exaggerated look especially with the full glittery candy pink lips. Sissy baby Lottie stared at the image staring back in the mirror. It gave her a very blow up doll appearance with a glittery hooker look and the rubber in her mouth keeping her lips stretched into an ‘O’ shape ready for any cock. “Put those gloves on and leave the peignoir. You don't want your mothers robe ruined now do you?” Master smirked as he towering over the now bright red sissy from toes to his neck. Where the mask gave the sissy a dumb airheaded sex bimbo look. “Maybe time to get those huge udders to match your piggy slut of a wife. Don't you think so?” Agast the sissy struggled to do more than stammer in a weird lispy gutteral voice through the rubber ring “If Master thinks so Sir I will of course be delighted to have a pair of sissy titties for you.” As thoughts of how to explain to work why the guy in the corner with the strange dress sense and a secret personal life now has massive tits! “Stop dreaming about all those bikinis you can wear on the beach cock sucker. Time for you to have that fat sissy boi pussy destroyed!” the Dom laughed as he grasped the sissy’s gloved elbow and manhandled him into the next room to meet his fate! Living Sex Doll The old church had been renovated so many times for its original use. Anyone with a keen eye could see the changes in stone where additions had been made to increase the size and height of the once modest village church. Once taken over by Master and his cohorts for monthly fun the third floor had been added. The much vaulted third floor had been built at much expense and only those with a specialist eye could see these newer sneaky changes to the stoneworks from the outside. Its exclusivity meant you were a trusted member to even be invited to the highest floor to look around the beautiful rooms and the treasures inside. Few though knew about the corridor behind the rooms. The secret warren of the minions and how many a plaything or piece of equipment could be brought in via the hidden lift. Finally at either end sat an oval shaped room with a washroom outside. These were the playroom for the elites, their ‘guests’ and the minions' reward. At the North end was the Purple room. Here was the Sadists torture chamber. Stocked with unique toys and equipment to bring even the most strong willed submissive to their knees. The Southern end was the Red room. This was a large playroom, with couches and comfy chairs lining the walls with a more simple set of equipment in the centre and the one sissy baby Lottie was pulled into. The living sissy sexy doll quickly followed his Master for once, not stumbling due to crazy heels or fumbling around in the dark due to a blindfold or hood. So unused to it he was able to fully absorb the kinky scene around him. He could feel his little cock strain as his eyes darted around to see scary Lady Ash and her friend spanking and fingering a pair of very happy minions. Another four minions were tied together to make a seat for a large BBW as two minions pleasured her large tits exposed from her top. Two of the puppy boys and a puppy girl had been strapped into bitchsuits and were being teased by a Dom couple. Multiple chairs had been used to bind a minion in an odd art display next to Mz Cleopatra whose two sissy boys had been tied in a sixty nine position and fought the tight ropes to blow each other. Her male slave’s tongue was burried deep in another woman’s wet snatch as a guy fucked his ass as he was giving hand jobs to two others! Mz Cleopatra was longing in her chair as a pretty trans girl bounced on her huge strap-on. As Master pulled him past the amazing sights the Dominatrix cat called, “Can a sissy bride doll wear white? Or was it pink and it‘s just that cum stained?” “Cleo you say the kindest things” Master quipped pausing to allow the small crowd around the goddess to have a giggle at the pathetic male. “I would love to stay and chat but I have my own fun to be had after I deliver this sissy dolly to her date for this evening!” Master smirked, giving the audience a wry smile before storming off as the sissy waved goodbye awkwardly, unsure what else to do. As he turned he cringed as he heard the loud booming laughter following his patheticness. Passing a few people lounging in the chairs watching the show, sissy baby Lottie finally walked past the collection of kinky fun to finally see what Master had in store. The sissy froze in place, unable to move as the image burned into his memory to haunt his nightmares and tease his daydreams. Dead centre was a decorated spanking bench. The padded top had sashes of white satin hung around the edges. Where the satin met the bench, a large white bow had been added that held the white silk sheet that covered the padded top. The wooden legs had been wrapped in ribbon, even the chains had been wrapped to hide the metal. The usual thick black cuffs had been replaced with a gleaming pair of new white leather cuffs. They had been lined with pink fur that matched the colour of the lace detailing and the buckle leather. Master had even arranged for the red wall to be covered with a white sheet and flowers added to frame the sissified bench. On the right side were two of his sissy friends. Both had made up with simple makeup and a pretty headdress of white flowers in their matching pink wigs. Large rubber ball gags had been strapped into their mouths and latex posture collars’ locked around their throats. The ball and collar were both in a baby pink to match the identical satin gowns the pair wore. Each was a sissy's dream to wear with the poofy shoulders and cinched waists. The skirts were a big circle of poof with a lacy hem. Each dress was laying over a Victoria era hoop underskirt visible through the front of the dress where the satin had been replaced with a clear plastic. Everyone could see the sissies’ matching pale pink stockings and garter belt. Each with added bows and lace. The pink platform heels and hot pink toenails peeking from the open toe. Each sissy’s panties had been rolled down into a stretched mass of satin, lace and more bows. Revealing each sissy in a flat chastity cages with a bow tightly tied above their swollen sissy eggs. Sissy baby Lottie instantly noticed all the small things others would surly overlook. The little heart shaped locks on the sissies' dress and shoes. The rings on the collars were heart shaped and not circles. The large hooped earrings were the same as a pair he owned. With “COCKSUCKER” in the centre. The bows on the back of the heels hiding a chain to the floor, Also the pink poles masked by matching the flouncy frocks colour on which her friends were impaled on hard dongs. Finally, that look of abject humiliation of being trapped and displayed as the failed cucks you are. From a view of frilly dresses, tiny cocks and ultimate sissification on the right handside. On the left was the bizarre. Kitty knelt in a full gimp suit with the metal cuffs, chains and chastity. Now she wore a hood over the catsuit’s built-in one, the dark purple latex contrasting with the long built-in pigtails in a blood red. Even from several paces away the sub girl’s brilliant baby blue eyes had that slight glazed look of someone surrendering to their submission. But next to her was the ‘worm’! The unidentifiable person lay on the floor dead straight as if strapped down tight to a board. A hard shell covered the head leaving nothing, but a circular hole over the wearer's mouth as the only feature on an otherwise glossy black surface. Their body was hidden under a tube of heavy and thick rubber. Around the neck opening, sissy baby Lottie could make out the industrial packing wrap and black duck tape against the grey of what looked like a rubber catsuit. So entranced with the scene before him he just followed Master in a daze as he pulled him to the sissified bench. The silk of the topper was a nice feeling on his bare upper chest but also being so different than how it would usually feel it gave the sissy an odd chill down his spine. “Look at the pretty heels the piggy slut got you.” Master said as he locked the sissy baby’s wrists into the white cuffs. “I had her use your bedazzler to add all those crystals.” The sissy noticed movement but rather than his expected wife was Mistress Grace, whose husband was currently dressed as a sissy bridesmaid behind her. In one hand she held the leash to her slave girl. As usual the girl was hidden under a pink hijab with only the hint of her collar displaying her name of ‘Pussy Licker’ visible. Hanging from the BBWs fat fingers were shiny white stripper pumps that twinkled in the overhead lights. Rather than haphazardly placing the crystals, his wife had given it a beautiful starfield pattern. The shoes constantly twinkled in multiple places including up the nine inch heel and to cover the four inch platform. The ankle strap had been covered with a ribbon tied off in a large bow at the back. “Pussy Licker, help our dolly into her fuck me pumps.” Mistress Grace ordered her loyal pet. The slave gently took the shoes before shuffling over to kneel in front of the sissy. With nothing but gestures she got the sissy to use her shoulders to balance as she squeezed his feet into the pumps. As she remained kneeling she aided the wobbly poof next to the bench giving a little snort as the sissy grasped the edge of the bench in a death grip. “Good carpet muncher. Now strap the useless creature down and save our host’s back.” The covered slave bowed down to her owner before scurrying around each leg of the bench securing the sissy down tight. Sissy baby Lottie could feel the humiliation, excitement and a sense of shame being dressed as he was ready for her Masters cock. He stared straight at the bulge in his tailored suit trousers feeling the drool start to pool around the mask opening. The satin lined straps across his back left his body arched against the bench top, With the three straps holding his legs locked straight and wide apart. Along with the massively high heels, his boi pussy was pushed up and displayed like the needy bitch in heat he was. He could feel the little satin bad already getting damp in anticipation. “Is my girlie boi ready for a good fucking?” Master asked innocently. “Please Master. Please destroy me in front of all your friends.” The simpering pansy struggled to beg as the rubber ring made his sound more faggy than the most lispy of pantywaists. As he found himself to stop pushing down on the smooth silk and forcing his butt higher as his horny brain started to wiggle as much as his bondage allowed. “What about your pig of a wife?” Master inquired, his green eyes boring into the sissy as he whimpered feeling his bump pulse against its metal cage. “Nooooo.” he moaned “Please, please I need it. Please, please, I've been such a pathetic useless sissy for you. I have done it all.” “You dumb Barbie doll. He meant, shouldn't your wife be here?” Grace shouted in frustration before quickly covering her mouth and waving an apology to the host glaring at her. “Thank you for your input GRACE, I am sure this idiot would have got there eventually even if he wants to be fucked while dressed as a poof” Master chided taking an elastic strap from his pocket and linking the back of the mask to one of the straps across his back. The strong elastic pulled his head up forcing him to arch uncomfortably to look ahead. With effort he found he could lay back down but it took effort and concentration or he snapped back. He moaned as the elastic pulled him back once again as Master deftly stepped to the side, leaving the sissy to have a new memory burned in his brain! Straight in front of him knelt his wife in some of Masters favourite bondage equipment. A harness of rope bound her large breasts and held her arms behind her in a reverse prayer tie. He could see the rope was dug in tight to her breasts and how her arms forced her to kneel with boobs thrust forward and back straight, a position he had seen her in many times. This time it was the large dildo gag strapped in her mouth. He knew the gag with the front eight inches protruding from the front with another four inches of the fat dong stuffed in her mouth. He watched as she thrust her face into the dripping hairy snatch of a naked lady he didn't know. As she pumped so hard her neck muscles were visibly straining she awkwardly humped the ass of a trans girl locked into a bitch suit with a pup hood hiding her face from the sissy. He could only watch as his wife double fucked the people before her as behind another bound girl was sliding on the huge double end dildo forced in each girls ass. The world shrunk down as the sissy could only stare dead ahead. He watched so intently he recognised the cock locked into the strapon harness Naive wore over the top of the stainless steel chastity belt. The silicon phallus was the huge imitation horse one Master had gifted them for a wedding gift. The thing was at least sixteen inches long and the ridges stretched you so wide it felt like you were ripped in half. “Gawff” the sissy mumbled as he realised that his wife and her ‘friend’ were using the the christmas present his wife had opened at her family gathering. Master had however labelled the gift as being from her hubby, nearly getting him kicked out with least his father in law ready to kick his ass. A loud shouting and Master fitting something around his head snapped him back from his space out. Instantly feeling the warmy sticky feeling he knew the sight of his wife used as little more than a mastabation aid had caused him to cum. “Why am I so pitiful?” He thought to himself as he watched the women climb out the sex swing and gave his wife a head pat before using a crop to encourage the bitch suited girl to scuttle away as best she could on her elbows and knees. Glancing back he found his wife staring at him. He could only imagine what she must think seeing him dead centre in this fetishist's wet dream! He could see her eyes grow as she took it all in. Before she realised she was being stared at and their eyes met, but only she looked away. Her body turned a bright pink. Before she could turn back, a woman dressed like a demon from some R-rated horror movie dragged what looked like the married minions behind her. A set of talons grabbed the terrified piggy slave head up and impaled the woman onto the dildo watching her slide down until her toes reached the floor. “Fuck that boy’s ass and pleasure that slut’s cunt. I expect both to be worn out by the time I return.” The demon lady demanded before turning heel and marching off, no doubt to cause more mischief. The sissy's little cock twitched in excitement at the thought of watching his wife when the clack of a cane caused the sissy to immediately strain to find his owner. When he finally managed to pick him out walking towards the sissy his tummy went into free fall. Master was not alone. Numnutts was walking behind the sissy’s superior, with a smile so large everyone could see all his teeth. Although the only thing the sissy could concentrate on was the fact the giant had lost his trunks!!! Promise Delivered “As promised for being a good little boy for your fine owners… You have precisely one hour of fun. Nothing permanent and do not break my fuck doll. It might be longer still before your Mistress lets you out to play.” Master dictated to the man mountain making the sissy squirm and leak pre-cum from the objectification. “Sissy baby Lottie,” The authoritative voice made the sissy meekly look up to his Master. “I expect you to be willing and participate in the certain destruction of your pussy. Do not disappoint me!” Master said before turning his head in the direction the sissy was facing. “You too Pig fuck machine.” Master glared at his slaves before grabbing the gimp and pulling her towards an empty section. The ‘worm’ seemed to sense where the gimp went and slowly pulled their lower half up until their knees were close to touching their chest. After a slight pause it pushed their head forward to inch across the floor to the amusement of those around. The Sissy’s focus quickly changed as his head was yanked to come face to face with Numnutts’… nuts. With nothing more than a grunt and using whatever Master had strapped around his head to manoeuvre him. Sissy baby Lottie quickly got the message and started to lap the weighty and very full balls. Each had a strong salty taste of sweat and a bit of tang from the cologne filling his nose with a spicy scent and strong musk of a real man. With a loud plop Numnutts log smacked down on the cream puff’s forehead as the large man pulled the sissy forward to the very limit of the straps. The sissy squealed in protest as the large finger invaded his mouth. The large digit checked the rubber ring holding his captive mouth open in a slutty O shape. No sooner than the finger was pulled out Numnutt’s popped one ball in and then the other stuffing the mouth with a pair of salty balls the size of walnuts in the sissy baby’s mouth. Lottie could feel his cheeks stretch as her face pulled tight to his black body. Even through the mask he could feel the thick cock pulse. For a few moments the sissy remained still as the man rubbed his dick up and down the silky smooth mask before his bear paw-like hand slapped his ass. Taking the hint the pansy desperately started to swirl his tongue over the hard balls. Another slap prompted him to start to suck on them like a sweetie in his mouth as the man continued to just rub on the mask. Sissy baby Lottie could feel the heat and pulse rise and these eggs almost started vibrating in his mouth. He closed his eyes and waited for the explosive orgasm as the man paused ready. But instead Numnutts quickly yanked his manly balls from his mouth and put the end of his beer can sized cock at the entrance to his face. With a grunt and a light slap to the face the sissy quickly stuck out his tongue and licked the yummy black cock like his life depended on it. His tongue swirled around the tip and then he strained against the straps to reach as far down as he could manage. In the middle of the fifth time of swirling his tongue around the head he felt two strong hands grab the back of his head as the cock slammed in, down his throat. In a blind panic the sissy started to struggle as he felt his throat struggle to accept the thick black cock so deep. With a gurgle of protest his noodle arms thrashed against the cuffs. Despite his body screaming to bite down the sissy proudly opened wide and was rewarded by Numnutts pulling out. The sissy snorted and coughed as he tried to catch his breath. After a few moments of silence as his body gulped up huge lungfuls of air he heard multiple people laughing at him. The thickness of the mask acted like horse blinkers making him unable to make out who was watching, but when the jibes started he could only cringe knowing his wife was so close and probably agree what “total embarrassment of a man” he was. The emasculated pansy hung his head from the shame, causing another smattering of tittering for what felt like a lifetime for the pansy. Then as if by some silent cue the watching crowd went silent. The sissy could feel his tummy churn as a sense of foreboding washed over him. Numnutts made it worse as the living mountain grabbed the controlling device and mashed his face into the bench top hard. The more he squealed and wriggled the firmer he was held down tight! In the silence the sissy could feel someone was behind him. Screwing his eyes shut he could only whimper in fear. Whoever said ‘not being able to see was better’ lied!. His mind spun through a hundred of things that could happen. With even the best of results making everything but his sissy bump freeze in fear, as his tiny dick strained for freedom. The pulsing rubbing against the cage bars made him strain more. Feeling a gloved hand gently touch above his stocking top made the sissy freeze. He could feel it move up toward his ass. The poofter could feel his heart beat so hard and fast it echoed in his ear. A second hand gently squeezes his other buttock. The sissy melted as the hands soothingly massaged his bussy for a second before gently prising his cheeks apart. The sissy let out a fretful wail, afraid of what was going to be be shoved in his fuck hole. The feeling of degradation each time of being violated felt so indecent he could cry. It never took that long before the discomfort and embarrassment would fade as his huge sissy spot would be rubbed and he would turn into such an exaggerated whore from a bad porno. He couldn't help but moan, pant, and beg as he would buck and thrust back to be used harder. Afterward, used and spent, he would cry from the frustration of being denied yet again and from the memories of the sinful acts he had done and enjoyed. “Get on with it!” a voice yelled out, snapping the sissy back to the now. As her brain tried to place the voice the one thing she didn't expect poked at her sissy hole! The velvety tongue made soft little flicks at his entrance as the sissy swooned and let out a muffled sound of pleasure as a wet spot started to grow on the satin sissy cock cage cover. Tentatively the tongue poked inside. The tip tickled as the walls of his oh so sensitive hole. Pausing for a moment and then it worked round and around in huge circles, stretching open the well worn boi cunt. The sissy buzzed with pure pleasure feeling the tongue push deeper in and flick around. The teasing was delicious and easily the most horny he had felt while being defiled. His legs quaked as his little baby dick leaked more and more as he tried in vain to push back and get the sweet invader to go deeper. The bliss of being pleasured made his toes tremble in the ridiculous heels and he moaned like a cheap whore. The chatting around him felt distant and not important, he could vaguely hear something a voice in the back of his head screamed to pay attention to before a stinging slap to his face crashed him back down to his situation. As his vision cleared he was staring at the thick black cock before him. “You dumb cunt” an unfamiliar voice menacingly growled at him. “Do you want this yummy cock or should I get a much more deserving cumslut enjoy it.” Feeling his boi cunt continue to quiver in bliss, the little shred of masculinity left demanded he lay back down and enjoy his deserved pleasure. “Please Sir, Please fuck this lowly cum loving cream puff’s mouth!” he lisped, a tear ran under his mask as his masculinity died a little more as it screamed what a failure he was. The laughter rang in his ears as he stretched wide as could as the massive cock shoved in until the sissy nose was buried in a mess of thick dark hairs. A meaty hand grabbed the back of his head as the other used the handle to pull his head to just the right position. The poor sissy let out a mix of a whimper and a coo as the tongue licking his pussy found around his special spot turning his dumb sissy brain to mush. With nothing but a grunt of warning. Numnutt’s started to ram his cock into the wet willing face hole. His strong hands holding the sissy's head still despite the squeals and attempts to pull away as he pushed his fat dick so far down the poof’s throat several of the women were pointing and whispering about the visible dick going so deep it nearly reached the collar at the base of his throat. Promise Fulfilled The sissy struggled to breathe as he felt the huge heavy balls slap his chin again as the huge black cock once again filled his mouth and throat. No training had prepared him for such a monster trouser snake to use him so thoroughly and reduce him to nothing more than a mere object. The thought made his lil ‘clit’ squirt more sissy pre cum. Lost in his thoughts he didn't notice one of the women chided “Get on with it or you will be the one licking it clean!” Pussy licker let out a wail in protest as two women grabbed the sissy’s pert ass cheeks and pulled them violently apart as another stuffed the slave's head into the powder puffs’s ass and aggressively pistoned her head in and out. Feeling the tongue suddenly switch from gently teasing his naughty spot to suddenly grinding fast and hard into his fuck hole as the huge man held his dick deep in his throat made the sissy stop and shudder as the waves of anal pleasure hit the fear and panic from having to squirm on the dick like a fish stuck on a pole. A new grunt emanated from the man ravishing his throat. He held the sissy in place who could see stars as he took raspy panicky gasps for air. Lottie struggled and wriggled before finally the thick fingers let go and the sissy slumped to the bench with a huge splat coughing as the black snake pulled out glistening with drool. Looking forward he could only watch as his wife used the dildo gag locked in place to to fuck the pussy of a women who had to be in her seventies. He watched with a morbid fascination as the mature woman used liberal amounts of her crop and shout “DO it better you worthless cunt.” As the sissy stared, his wife got the odd feeling of being watched as her body cried out for a break as her neck was cranked back and forth by the nasty and vile women taking more pleasure in leaving welts with her nastier crop than the tiring effort she did to pleasure her pussy. The constant pumping of her hips to fuck the person under the swing had grinded down to just long slow thrusts as the person behind her would buck in time to mash their asses together as the anal intruder would push in and out enough far to little to give and real pleasure but enough to do more than tease her. She wanted nothing more than to stop everything and hump her botty friend, but like a good slave she carried on with her orders. “This thing is fecking useless. I’ve had more excitement watching parliament.” the vile women sneered as she walked off. A tide of anger washed over the exhausted girl as she could see the old crone interrupting Master’s fun and speak to her. “What a cunt” she grumbled through the gag as even with the woman half away across the room she could see her juices gleaming in the lights from her tummy to her knees! She didn't want Master to spot her staring at him. Able to look over to see what her husband was enduring, she saw a fully clothed girl being dragged from behind the sissy loser. Mistress Grace's friend slipped out of her tight skirt and shoved the girl against her wet snatch. Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull as she noticed the giant and his fat dick bouncing obscenely in front of him. The size of the dick transfixed her. It looked as thick as her wrist and easily nine inches long. The thought of being filled by such a cock after years of denied real dick she felt jealous as the bull lined his dick to the target. Staring at his wife, he sissy watched his wife fixate on something. Then, like a jolt of lightning, the realisation hit him hard in the face. She was watching Numnutts. And, from the way she was now staring right through him, he must have been behind him. He mewed in fear, wriggling his ass as much as he could. “Nuuuughhhh” he cried out fearing he would be ripped in two. A warm paw-like hand tenderly rested on his back and the sissy froze totally still. He screwed his eyes shut and prayed that someone would save him. Destruction “I think my Harold would sooooo love to see this up close.” Mistress Grace called out clapping before releasing her humiliated hubby from the pole impaling his boy pussy. She dragged the kneeling sissy over to the rear of his friend as the huge cock slowly pushed its way in. “Stop whinging, you cream puff faggot. Harold has been sitting on something just as big all night and you don't see him acting out.” Grace taunted as she sissy’s arms thrashed as much as the cuffs would allow as it felt like someone was inserting a tree trunk in his asshole. As the pain reached its peak the sissy baby squealed for the intruder to be removed. His panicky panting and wiggling combined to make him gyrate on the sensitive cock head making the man mountain groan in pleasure. “Just how my slaves should be. Sexually used for pleasure of their betters.” Master ridiculed as he walked up. Naïve quickly lowered her head in deference as sissy baby Lottie face was buried deep into the silk. Numnutts had started to rock his hips as he gently fucked the sissy pussy, each time getting deeper. “My poor Piggy has to watch yet again. While her hubby is buggered like a cheap whore.” Master taunted holding her head to watch, His boot tapping against the plate covering her soaking wet snatch. “Don't worry about the hag. The woman is just a royal cunt. You did good. Now fuck this desperate girl’s asshole for me. I need a rest.” Master sat down in the swing pushing the asshole of a cute girl into Naïve face. As Master relaxed in the swing yelling at Numnutts “The clock is ticking” followed very quickly by very loud slurping. Naïve had to use the dong protruding from her mouth to flip the latex skirt of the schoolgirl uniform up and over the armbinder holding arms so tight that her elbows were just millimetres apart. Numnutts heard the call and not wanting to miss his chance of a non ruined orgasm he grabbed hold of the sissy’s hips. His hands were so huge he had to force them between the sissy’s hips and the wedge. Unconsciously sissy baby Lottie arched her back more pushing his pussy up as if inviting to be fucked hard. Gripping down hard he reared back before slamming his cock in full as far as it would go. The sissy;s head snapped back as the elastic pulled him up. His brain shut down, unable to take in the view of his Master and wife with a pretty trans girl as the pain from his pussy being split in two took over. On the fourth try she finally was able to flick the shiny material up and over her back as the woman and was rewarded with a view of the bottom of her pert ass. Nicely framed by the jock strap style latex panties she wore. Naïve could tell the tall girl was way too high with her knees locked and ass high before stretching down to pleasure her Master. With no other choice she used the dong to gently slap at the pink thighs until she spread her legs wide enough the sissy’s wife could reach and was ready to start when her sissy hubby screamed aloud before it morphed into a guttural moan. The sissy gibbered through the ring gag of the mask. The sounds were nothing but a mix of grunts and screams as Numnutts started to thrust his achingly hard cock in and out faster than a supercharged V8 engine piston. The sissy and Numnutts started to grunt in time as the huge rod was grinding on his sissy spot making his tiny nub spew his sissy watery cum into the satin bag. He winced in pain as the cock finally bottomed out. The giant was deeper than all but Master’s most evil of toys he would use on his slave couple and when away have the pair use on each other. Numnutts paused taking a breather as he enjoyed the feeling of the sissy desperately trying to fuck himself and get the gliss of his sissy spot stimulation as the thick straps left his attempts at nothing more than just a light rocking doing little more than frustrate him more Seeing the sissy’s face drop into a dreamy sissy bliss, Naïve realised the faggot was enjoying being fucked. An evil pang of jealousy pounded away in her skull. It wasn't fair the poof got to enjoy Masters cock. She hadnt been fucked properly in years and never by a real cock. Usually Masters wicked toys or a strap on wielded by the huge butch lesbian from her old job. The whole day she had been seeing hubby get pleasure in all kinds of ways. All she received was multiple forced orgasms to the point of immense pain. Then, suddenly, the humiliation of hearing a random person pleasuring her owner, mixed with burning pain from the multiple orgasms teased from her earlier. Along with the feel from the cold steel against her burning hot pussy light a fire of passion and rage. With a flurry of movement and powered by frustration. Naive hit a third wind and hate fucked like the devil himself. She felt her face and groin slap into flesh with such force it sounded like a drum. Each thud drove her on as her ears filled with an orgy of sex making her body tingle with sexual energy. “Tick Tock” Master called out. Hearing the words Numnutts flicked up a gear and changed from the long strokes to now a frenzied fucking of shorter quicker thrusts. The sissy moaned “nur nur nur” as his whole body bucked as the bull fucked him so hard it felt like his pussy was a risk of being shreaded. Then it was like a divine intervention happened and the grinding on his sissy spot was perfect. His body started to shake as waves of orgasmic pleasure flowed through every nerve ending. Sissy baby Lottie whimpered as was so close to a mind melting sissygasm as his view of his wife was blocked. Like the twist in a bad movie, suddenly standing between Lottie and his wife was his boss from his day job… and her husband. His dick was long and very, very hard. It shined from the coating of juices coving it as it was pointed at his face. “Been told to try the sissy and piggy bitch by that lovely gent.” his Boss pointed to his owner with a huge smile on both their faces. Despite wanting to look away, his Boss maintained a perfect poker face. Leaving the poor pansy unable to tell if she knew it was him under the mask or not. Feeling his tummy swirl with fear, the guy grabbed the handle and dragged him over his cock. The slightly arid taste had to be from his boss's love juices. The sissy realised feeling his face warm and froze as his head swirled with thoughts of what might happen at work. Numnutts was getting close and with an angry grunt he pointed to the sissy’s face indicating the other guy should fuck deep as he could go. The sissy let out a whimper as his body turned a deep crimson as his Boss’s hubby wrenched on the handle as he thrust his cock deep as he could pushing his cock into the sissy throat. Seeing the fun, Mistress Grace and her friend practically threw their own husbands over the bound prissy and hiked the skirts of the ridiculous dresses out the way. Before ploughing their husbands’ ass pussies with some very impressive strap ons. Feeling the new weight of the fellow sissies on his back as his face and ass pussy were abused, the sissy zoned in and out. That blissful sissy space only interrupted as the cock was held too long in his throat. Or when Numnutts would thrust so aggressively the sissy would squeal out making the other guy push even deeper to silence him. “You close bro” the man vigorously slamming his face hole yelled out. Numnutts just nodded his head and the pair quickly pumped in and out so quickly the sissy felt the two were sawing him in half. Numnutts started to make some strange noises before crashing down on the three sissies as he shoved in deep one last time and coated the sissy’s innards with thick coils of cum. To the sissy’s embarrassment he screamed out as an orgasm flowed through him. His body then went rigid before twitching under the weight of the sissies and the crushing weight of Numnutts. With his mind swirling, feeling like he was very drunk, tired and unable to sleep. His very dry mouth suddenly tasted cum as his Boss’s other half painted his tongue with his salty love juice. The Men recovered quickly and left as the Mistresses continued to fuck their own sissy partners over the slumped and spent pansy. Sissy baby Lottie could feel the cooling cum from toe curling pleasure from an amazing orgasm as drool started to run down the mask as he was so tired he couldn't move his head. The taste of another man's cock cream and the numb ache in his bum brought on the shame of being used as a cum dump. He could just about see and hear as people walked off and the quiet mutterings became harsh barbs and jibes at his expense. “See Piggy. This is why you are a locked up pain slut. No way you could pleasure all those men.” Master laughed as his swords burnt deep in his slaves. “A pair of worthless shits. But you at least managed to not disappoint me so I will have to find another to feel the sting of my toys tonight.” Master pulled the gag from the wifes face before dragging the dirty slave girl to the back of the bound husband. “Im worried the sissy is such a failure of a man he might actually get pregnant so clean him out. Gracie, please be a dear and lock the two in a cage when you’re done. I think Kitten and the Worm need a good beating.” Grace gave a thumbs up before continuing to plough the ‘bridesmaid’. As Master paused to gently squeeze the back of both slaves' necks before moving back into the party. Both slaves could not stop smiling as they knew the squeeze’s secret meaning. 10 am The soft light of mid morning lit up the entrance to the church where Mz Chleopatra stumbled over the Master's sub couple. The woman chuckled as she walked in a slow circle around the pair in matching short white dresses with navy blue polka dots and wide sashes tied with a big floppy bow. She could see the edge of the poofy blue petticoats and matching white knee socks and shiny Mary Jane shoes. They even had their hair in matching braided pigtails tied with navy blue and white ribbons. While strange to see a woman wearing such a bizarre outfit it suited the pansy puff ball rather well. The strange thing was both wore World War Two replica gas masks, altered to be locked on with tiny padlocks. Stranger still was the tubes from the masks running behind them to a fairly large plastic cylinder strapped on each of their backs and providing a handy place for handcuffs locking each subs arms behind their backs. “Morning Cleo. You forget something? I need to lock up?” Master asked, appearing from a side passage. “Nah. Was just coming to say bye when I stumbled across these two rejects. Very pretty outfits for a four year old. But what's the backpack for?” Master chuckled. “Well the pair really loved being degraded all the time. Well maybe not love? But they have odd fetishes. So I filled the tubes with stuff and that's all they can smell in the augmented masks.” Cleopatra started giggling as the unmoving drones stared straight ahead. “That's brilliant. Do I dare ask?” “You can. The Masks have some fun tech in them meaning they can't see or hear us right now. In Piggy’s tube a fair few of the ladies offered up their dirty panties. Nice start to her chaste year. The sissy has all those dirty diapers he used. So the pair will have a horny and shamed filled ride home.” the sadist winked at his friend. He walked out tapping something on his phone and the pair scrambled to their feet and quickly dashed out the door as the Doms followed chuckling….

(this is fiction, wishful fiction) --constructive feed back is always welcome by me. I have not written for a while, so please be kind 🙂 So, I suddenly found myself in the most terrifying and shocking scenarios, the kind I fantasized about, but never would make plans to do. When the housekeeper opened the door to the hotel room for cleaning, she was met with quite the sight of me. In the middle of the room, gagged with a large pacifier, dressed like a baby was yours truly, tied up in a harness. I had on a bonnet, booties, some thin babyish mittens, and a lace trimmed romper of the most babyish style. Cuffs secured my arms to my sides in multiple places, and I had a chain connecting my ankles. I could walk (not quickly) but my upper body was completely restrained. I was planning to attend the fetish convention later, that was my reason for being here. I wanted to have some playtime before, to keep me out of trouble for the late morning, (and partake in some fantasy play) I was heavily diapered, and secured in the most humiliating and infantile attire. Think lots of pastel pinks and blues. I moaned into the gag, trying to explain to her what was going on, to come back later, or let me out, all while a small intrude in my behind softly teased me, adding to my shame. “Oh, are you here for the convention?” she asked with a chuckle, “you look all dressed up and ready to go!” I replied, but the paci did its job very well keeping me gagged, it was strapped on comfortably snug. I tried to wiggle my arms, tug at the restraints and reins, but they held very well, just as intended. I had wanted to be tied up, and left. The idea of being helpless, and the risk of getting caught was a VERY common theme in my favorite stories, and scenes. I was worried she was going to call the cops, security, the news, and I would be in trouble and publicly shamed, but she reassured me. “Listen, I do not care what people get up to, in fact this is simply adorable” she stated, “but this is my last room and then I am done for the day.” I thought that maybe this meant she was going to let me out, so I could get out of the way, crawl in a hole with my embarrassment, and just hide. She grabbed my convention lanyard. “Well you better not forget this.” She tried to hand me my lanyard/entry pass, which I was very much unable to hold and so she settled for slipping it over my head. I was confused at first then realized that she thought THIS is how I wanted to attend the con, a helpless baby. She took a walk around me, examining the straps and tightening a couple, further limiting my already limited movement. I tried to tell her that I didn’t want this, that this was all a big misunderstanding, but all that came out was some muffled “mmph”s. I felt the vibe in me increase as I heard “What does this button do?” She pressed it a few more times, and I was left struggling with it on the teasing setting. She then just started cleaning the room, me standing there stunned. I was confused and dumbfounded, so I quick slipped into the bathroom to get out of sight. I could hear her changing the sheets, vacuuming, etc. I was desperate for her to finish so I could get out of this gear and hope to never see her again. A short while later I heard a knock on the bathroom door “Little baby…I have some fresh towels but I will just leave them on the bed.” I replied that it would be fine and thanked her, all of it was complete muffled gibberish. Then in a more personal voice she said “I am going to the convention also, hence my rush to get finished. Maybe I will catch you there?” Once I heard the room door shut I peeked out, and the coast was clear. I made a straight line for the desk to get the key when I realized that in her cleaning she had moved it to a little tray at the back of the desk, way out of my limited reach. I panicked, because in my stupidness I had not taken my spare out of the bag, and with my mittened hands I could barely manipulate the key, let alone open and rummage through a suitcase. I shuffled toward the door, my padded crotch giving me a slight waddle, and timidly peeked out in the hall. I knew my options were to be stuck like this, and have to call for help, or try and catch up with her, and get her help. She was waiting just down the hall at the elevator. The door opened and I knew I had to hurry, so I tried to run. As expected, the chain connection between my legs was not conducive to running so I tripped a little. I ended up bracing against a wall, then slid down onto my thickly padded bum. In desperation I turned and watched my hope for escape enter the elevator, the doors closed shortly after. I thought I would just get back to my room and try to figure out an escape then. Maybe I could reach the key with something, in hindsight that seemed like the best idea anyway. As I got to the door I scooted my side to the door and turned the handle. It turned, but nothing happened. I tried again, nothing. It was then that a sinking feeling hit me, and a cold chill ran down my spine. My room key was in the room. In a panic I pushed hard on the door, wiggled the handle more, and screamed into my gag in desperate frustration. I was panicking, rapidly breathing, pulling as hard as I could on my restraints. There was no give and now I was just starting to sweat and felt tired. My tantrum had been useless. Sooner or later somebody was going to come out of their room, so the sooner I could get to the front desk, get help and get a new key, the sooner I could hide my shame. The elevator ride was uneventful, and I was just starting to relax when we slowed down for the second floor. “No, no! No!” I screamed into the gag, “I am so close!” The doors opened and a couple of young men entered, then suddenly stopped when they saw what stood before them. They both cracked up, nearly falling over laughing. “Wow!” one said, “Man, you either are into some weird shit or this is a very solid prank.” “He is blushing” the other one barely got out between chuckles, “I bet he loves this!” I did love it, I hated it, I was terrified, turned on, scared, and in submissive heaven. The doors shut and we continued to the ground floor. One of them started examining me, tugging me around some with the straps, and just having a blast. By the look on his face I could almost imagine part of him was into it. While he did this, his friend grabbed my leash, clipped to the center of the harness, and tied it off to the hand rail on the back wall. “Here you go, enjoy your fun sissy.” When the door opened I tried to pull at it, hopeful for a loose knot, or weak clip. My body quickly came to a jerking halt, and the pull on my harness stopped me from leaving the elevator. I moaned loudly in frustration, my helpless situation, the constant teasing in my rear, and my hope being so close, but I was unable to reach it. They kept laughing as they got off the lift, walking right by the front desk as if to spite me. My situation had gotten more dire. Until somebody let me out, I was stuck tied up as a baby girl on the elevator. The whole time my intruder kept its teasing up as I braced for the next embarrassment. Somebody must have called the elevator, because we started moving up again. On the 6th floor it stopped, and on got a group of women with serious dominatrix vibes. This was strangely more comforting than some vanilla person, as I am sure they would understand, maybe even help me out? By the time the elevator opened on one, my leash was now more tightly bound to the railing, and I had received quite a few spankings. As they left me there I started to sob, my fun game had turned into a humiliating nightmare with seemingly no end. Somebody got on the elevator, but I didn’t bother to even look up, thinking this could only get worse. “Little baby, what happened to you?” a familiar voice asked. She lifted my head gently, and I realized why I recognized her voice. It was the housekeeper from earlier, but she was not dressed like that anymore. Think Morticia Addams, but in a dangerously cute way. She untied my leash and pulled me to her, holding me in a tight hug. “Baby,” she whispered, “I was actually headed up to your room to check on you and see if you wanted to go together.” I looked at her confusingly and saw that she too had a lanyard on. “Why do you think I was in such a hurry to finish up earlier?” I looked into her eyes, and saw kindness; she used a lace gloved hand to wipe my tears away. “What do you say little girl?” she asked, “come have a coffee with me and we can talk about things?” I nodded, tucking my head back against her. She let out a loving sigh and rubbed my back. When we got back to the lobby, she tugged on my leash, bidding me to follow. --more to come once I think of it lol

Neil was more than excited to get accepted into a frat his freshman year of college. Although he was nervous about living with a bunch of guys he'd never met before, he was significantly more scared of being the only guy on the football team not in the fraternity. He was warned that the frats hazing pranks for new initiates could get pretty intense, but so far all the guys seemed pretty nice. That was until his first night in the frat house. When he woke up, Neil found his sheets soaked, his hand still left in a now cold bowl of water. He could handle that, but what came next, he found way more upsetting. His clothes had all been taken and hid away, the only thing left for him was a pack of plain white adult diapers... After fighting with himself on whether or not to give in, Neil finally put on the diaper, struggling with the straps a bit and getting it a little lopsided. He'd then begin a humiliating trek across the house, begging the other guys in the frat to let him borrow their clothes. eventually he would get a pair of pants a little too big, a shirt and jacket to small, and no belt. It was getting late, and Neil had his first day of classes, he couldn't miss them. So finally, he would step out onto the campus grounds, tail tucked between his legs hoping no one would notice his crinkly white waistband has he hurried to his first class... (rp is open to anyone! feel free to ask questions!)

I started writing about a new OC a while ago, finally found this so I am going to repost it here! ------------------------------------------ Thorn Thorn was just your average college freshmen with a secret. She wore diapers. She had to wear diapers after all. She was completely bladder incontinent. She had unfortunately been for as long as she could remember. She had tried so hard to keep the secret from her friends. For the most part of her life, her mother was the only one that knew about her issue. It wasn’t that she had to have her mother change her diapers. But it was easier. This arrangement was favourable up until she left her home to go live on her own. Thorn was currently living in a dorm on her new college campus. She supported herself by working at the local college library. It was good work, but to avoid any suspicions from people she took frequent trips to the bathroom, even though she didn’t know when she went- it was, for most of the time to change her own diapers. The woman in charge of the library, Ms. Smith eventually got suspicious of her running in and out of the bathroom every hour and confronted her about her odd behaviour. Well, it looks like the cat was out of the bag. Thorn begging her not to tell anyone, it was already embarrassing that she had to wear diapers, let alone someone or everyone else knowing. Ms. Smith didn’t react in the way that she thought she would. Instead she was very understanding and compassionate about the whole situation. “As long as it doesn’t effect your work anymore then it shouldn’t concern me”. She said. Thorn was almost revealed about it. But she had to work her schedule around it, still checking her diaper from time to time while she was working. Eventually Ms. Smith told her not to worry about bathroom breaks and just work through them. Thorn was reluctant at first, telling her that she would need a change at the end of her shift. To her surprise- Ms. Smith agreed! Even going so far as to check her diapers for her and change her if she need be! But thorn refused, telling her that she didn’t anyone else to change her diapers or look after her. “Now don’t be silly, I don’t want you to walk around with a smelly wet diaper all day because you forgot to change yourself!”. She explained. Thorn told her that she was being over protective and that she wasn't her mother. So it came as a surprise when she had forgotten her offer. Thorn turned around at the end of her shift to find Ms. Smith there, holding a ruler in one hand. Ms. Smith would lift the front of Thorn’s skirt up with the end of the ruler without a word, causing the young woman to blush. “Hey! C-cut that out!”. She replied. “Ah I thought so, you are wet again young lady!’. The librarian replied. Thorn pulled her skirt back down, her face bright red. “T-thank you… let me go change…”. She said, excusing herself to the bathroom. To Thorn’s surprise, Ms. Smith followed her to the bathroom. She looked at her as she got a spare diaper from her backpack. “I told you, I can do this myself!”. Ms. Smith only smiled. “I know you can dear.”. She replied. Much to her surprise Ms. Smith took her spare diaper and proceed to lay it out on the floor. “But never turn down help where it comes!”. She said. “Besides, I can keep a secret!”. She said, giving a warm smith at Thorn. Thorn gave an inwards sigh as she removed her wet diaper. It was going to be a long year, that was for sure. It was a cool Saturday evening when Thorn got home to her apartment. She immediately ran to her bathroom and took a shower, but not before removing her diaper and preparing a new change of clothes for herself- along with a fresh diaper. She was finally home, and she was going to relax the only way she knew how. Thorn stepped out of the shower after a few minutes- or until she decided she was relatively clean for her standards. She looked over her change of clothes, a simple teeshirt with a pink dress and pink stockings, a pair overalls, fuzzy white slippers and of course the brand new diaper. It was time to relax. One she was changed into her new clothes she sat in front of the television. Her eyes glazed over the flashing cartoons as she immersed herself into the channel she was watching. It was time to just completely shut her brain off as she took a sip of a juice box that was next to her on the coffee table. A small smile fell across her face as she begun to relax. Her thumb going reflexivity up to her mouth as she begun to suck on it. The weekend was the only time that she could actually have time to herself and not worry about anything. This was her routine, it was her only bit of peace of mind in this crazy world, and no one was going to judge her- at least no one was going to know that she secretly enjoyed this lifestyle. But yes, not even the people closest to her knew it. Honestly that was how she liked it, it was her private life. No one needed to know about her private life after all. That was the way it was, and it always has been for as long as she could remember when she first indulged in this type of thing. Thorn got a little bit too relaxed it would seem and she felt her diaper getting warm and tight against her crotch, but she didn’t care- she was too busy watching treehouse, watching the backyard creatures play pretend. A knock on her front door snapped her out of her little-space and she felt her face going red hot. She quickly stood up, and made her way over to her door. Thorn looked through the peephole in her door. “Who is it?”. She asked aloud. “Its Ms. Smith, dear!”. A voice replied back to her. Ms. Smith was standing in front of her door, and she appeared to be holding something in her hand. Thorn felt her heart beat in her chest, she tried to speak, but it was hard to find her voice. “What do you want?”. She said, unintentionally sounding more rude than she meant to come off as. Thorn stared though the peephole, and tried to see what the Librarian was holding in her hands. Ms. Smith gave a clear of her throat, holding up a textbook in front of the peephole, assuming that she was looking through it. Thorn was surprised to see it. “You left your textbook in my office, dear!”. She responded to Thorn. Oh crap, she did leave it at the college’s library. She panicked, not sure what she should do. Should she asked her to just leave it? Should she lie? Say that she was sick? A lot of ideas raced through Thorn’s head. There came another knock at the door as the librarian called out again. “Thorn, are you still there?”. Ms. Smith asked, placing her hand on the handle of the door only to find that was in fact open. “Thorn, I-“. She was just about to say as she opened the front door to her apartment. What she saw stood in front of her was something she didn’t expect to see. It was Thorn. She was dressed in a childish outfit that appeared to be way too young for her. “MS. SMITH! I CAN EXPLAIN!!!”. Thorn cried out, placing her arms over herself to try and hide the outfit that she was wearing out of desperation. They didn’t say anything for a solid thirty seconds, and just stared at each other. A small warm smile laid across the librarians face, simply handing Thorn the textbook as her other hand went up to her mouth. The book was quickly snatched up by the young woman and held against her bosom. “Please don’t tell anyone about this…”. She said to Ms. Smith. The older woman only placed her hands on either side of her hips and shook her head. Her face was bright red, and she couldn’t hold back her true feelings anymore. “Dear, I thought I told you…” She wiped at her eyes, removing her glasses as she did so. Thorn looked at her offended. “Your secrets are safe with me!”. She said, reassuring the girl that she was not making fun of her. Ms. Smith took a step back, and thorn looked up from hugging her textbook. “T-thank you…” She said, turning around and placing the book on her coffee table. She turned back to look at Ms. Smith. “Do you have a fresh diaper?” The woman asked. Thorn gave a tiny yelp as she realized that she had in fact wet herself again with realizing it. The librarian gave a smirk. “Do you want me to help you with that?”. She asked. Thorn blushed, but gave a nod of her head, realizing that she would need help getting out of all these clothes.

This story takes place around 2008, if you are a stickler for detail that is probably before Goodnites were available in licensed prints, and before size 7 Pampers were available. I wanted to set the story before the modern online age of smartphones, social media, and all that. Chapter 1 It had been the worst year in Ashton’s life, in January his father left his mother and moved far away.. It was a total surprise, since his Mom and Dad always seemed to get along great. Ashton’s Dad left the Jones family with a house and car payment that his Mother couldn’t afford. Ashton, his sister Ella and his Mom Lori left the beautiful suburban home with a big back yard and moved into a rent assisted apartment. Lori traded in her 3 year old Honda van for an 18 year old Kia and got a job working during school hours. To make matters worse Ashton’s little sister Ella was growing tall like her Dad, while Ashton was staying short like his mom. At 11 years old Ashton was now three inches shorter and several pounds lighter than his little sister who was 8 years old, and she was both stronger and faster than him. He had gotten the nickname tiny tot at school which drove him crazy. The only thing Ashton had on her was the fact that his sister had started wetting the bed. It had started in February, just after they moved into their new little apartment. After three wet mornings in a row Lori bought a mattress protector for her daughter, and after another week of soaked PJs and sheets she bought a pack of Goodnites bedwetter pants. Ella threw a fit but eventually gave in and wore the pull-ups and for the first time in nearly 2 weeks woke up in a dry bed. When she didn’t have to take her wet bedding to the laundry room she quickly changed her opinion of the Goodnites and was happy to wear them. Unfortunately, bedwetter pants were an expense that Lori couldn’t really afford, but she had always been a practical woman and quickly found that she could buy pull-ups and diapers on craigslist very cheaply. Lori hit the jackpot when she was given 3 cases of girls goodnites, they were a smaller size and featured Disney Princess, but they still fit Ella. The woman giving them away had an autistic daughter who was slow to develop and the deal was that Lori couldn’t just take the Goodnites, there were 3 big plastic tubs with stuff her daughter had grown out of, X-large toddler clothes, size 7 Pampers, and My Little Pony Training Pants, and other assorted baby items. Lori happily took the tubs and planned on selling the stuff, but put them in her storage container with all the things that wouldn’t fit in their small apartment and forgot about them. One day in May Lori sat down with her two kids and made an announcement, “Guys we are going to make a big change, we are going to move in with my Sister.” “In Florida,” Ashton asked? “Yeah we are moving, Jenna’s going to let us live in their house, they have a spare bedroom and you’ll get to be with your cousins,” Lori explained. “But all my cousins are girls, and I don’t know anyone in Florida,” Ashton whined. “Quit whining Tiny Tot, Florida sounds awesome,” Ella said. “Did you tell them that Ella wets the bed?” Ashton asked. “Ashton, don’t be mean, and yes they know,” Lori said. “You’re such a jerk, I hate you,” Ella yelled and then realized what her Mom just said. “You told them!” “Yes I told my Sister about your bedwetting, it’s really not a big deal honey,” Lori said. “I bet Trish and Sable know too, they’ll probably let you sleep in the nursery with Lisa,” Ashton said. “I’m gonna get you,” Ella yelled and started chasing her brother around. Lori grabbed them both, “Ashton one more word about your Sister’s bedwetting and your Nintendo will both be gone for two weeks. And as for you young lady, you never tell anyone in this family that you hate them. Apologize.” “I’m sorry,” Ella said, but they didn’t see her fingers crossed behind her back. That night Ella got a wonderful idea, her stupid brother had been giving her a hard time about wetting the bed for months, and she was sick of it. One of her friends had told her that if you put a sleeping person’s hand in warm water they would wet the bed, so she slipped out her room and snuck to the kitchen and filled up a bowl with warm water. She silently creeped through her brother's open bedroom door and ever so slowly moved his hand and placed it in the water. She waited and nothing happened, right about when she was ready to give up he rolled and caused her to spill the bowl, warm water creeped under Ashton’s midsection. He mumbled something and then Ella heard the muffled sound of running water and her brother seemed to relax and melt into the bed. “Now we’ll see how you like it,” Ella whispered as she made her way to the bathroom before going back to sleep. Ashton was having another weird dream. He was having lots of these dreams lately where girls were picking on him, they would chase him around trying to braid his long blond hair, put makeup on him or force him to play dolls with them. Ashton would run and run, but they would always catch him. He would often wake up scared that he was being turned into a girl. Tonight he was running from his cousins, they were chasing him and waving a cute girly dress they wanted him to wear. Since they were in Florida he ran to the beach and right into the warm water. He needed to pee and since he was already in the water he went ahead. He then realized he was in the pool and having a good time swimming, it was a very relaxing dream. Ashton woke up like he usually did at 7AM and couldn’t figure out why he was so cold and wet. Ashton had memories of wetting the bed some when he started kindergarten years ago, it only lasted a few weeks and his mattress already had a waterproof cover so it wasn’t that big of deal. He knew this was different, he was 11 now, way too old to wet the bed, and after all the crap he’d been giving his sister about it, he knew he had to do something. He wadded up his sheets and pajamas then put on some new underwear. Their apartment had a shared laundry room so he hid all the wet stuff at the bottom of the hamper then grabbed a towel. He was thinking he would get away with it, but didn’t see his sister smiling in the doorway watching him furiously trying to dry his bed. She snuck away to inform Lori. “Did you wet the bed?” his Mom asked. Ashton mumbled and then saw his sister grinning behind his Mom. “She’s laughing Mom,” Ashton said. “OK it’s one thing to have an accident but you shouldn’t have tried to hide your wet sheets, do you realize how bad that would have smelled,” Lori said. Ashton felt tears and began to cry, Ella knew she had won, she knew that some of the kids at school called her brother sissy and with his long blond hair and the fact that puberty has not touched him yet he could easily pass as a girl. “You can’t cry your way out of this sissy,” Ella said and Ashton began to bawl. “You two are about to get on my last nerve!” Lori said. “Your little spat is over. You’re both bedwetters now and unless you both want to be put back in diapers and have your breakfast from a baby bottle then I suggest you never give each other crap about it again. Understood!” “Yes Mommy,” they both said. That night Lori came into Ashton’s room with one of his Sister’s Princess Goodnites and a folded up plastic sheet. “Oh, Mom, no way!” Ashton said. “I know honey, but it’s not easy to do laundry here, and I can’t afford for your mattress to get ruined,” Lori said. His mother unfolded the plastic sheet. It was covered with pink and blue baby blocks and rattles. “That’s for babies,” Ashton protested. “I’m sorry honey, but I don’t want to buy a mattress protector, this might have been a one time accident, and Mrs. Wilson gave me this for free. Now stand up, and don’t complain.” Ashton stood and folded his arms while his Mom placed the infantile baby sheet on his bed. It turned out to be completely covered by his sheets and comforter so maybe it wasn’t so bad, but then the real humiliation came. “Slide your undies down, and step in,” she told him. Ashton caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror in the Little Mermaid Goodnite, they were a little tight on his sister but they fit him perfectly. He quickly started to slide his underwear back on but his Mom stopped him. “I’m sorry but if you have another accident it will just get your underwear wet too, I don’t want to wash your PJs bottoms either but you can wear the tops.” Ashton sat down on his bed and heard it crinkle, then he looked at the picture of Ariel on the girly pink and purple bedwetter pants styled like little girl’s Disney Princess panties. He turned red with embarrassment, “Mom,” he said. “I’m sorry Ashton, if you keep wetting and these bother you I’ll try to find you some boy ones.”

Hi, I'm a mommy leaning rper. I'm open to pretty much any scenario and gender pairings, if you have an idea you've been dying to try, I'm open to it! I'm especially open to rps involving the diaper dimension or any sort of humiliation/domestication centred rps with reverse potty training.

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

Lucy held the position of local manager at a highly esteemed multinational corporation specializing in early childhood products, generating millions of dollars in revenue annually. Through years of dedication and hard work, she had earned her place within the company. However, she faced a significant challenge in the form of her less-than-competent personal assistant. Despite Lucy's patience, the assistant's repeated errors, some of which were grave, had caused serious issues within the company. Following a severe reprimand from her superiors due to a mistake that jeopardized a $17 million deal, Lucy decided to address the situation. During lunchtime, she summoned her assistant to her office and calmly instructed her to take a seat.

Prologue: A kidnapping in Maine leads to a long investigation for Special Agent Paul, who will have to work as a team Hi, let me introduce myself, I'm Lola and I want to try to write an abdl story that mixes criminal investigation, this story is based on series of the genre, I hope you like it, please leave comments with criticism, praise and improvement, I'll make it clear that English is not my native language spelling and punctuation errors may occur Chapter 01 In picturesque southern Maine, a short, blonde girl ran along the wooded trails of a local park. Wearing a neon orange shirt with the word L.E.C printed on it and pink leggings, she enjoyed the sunny day while working out. Benson, as she was known, was a popular figure on social media, with a profile full of photos of herself showing her routine and her friends, she was a blogger, while she was running, Benson took her cell phone out of her pocket and captured a photo of the stunning scenery. around you. Excited by the prospect of sharing her activity with her followers, she posted the image on her social networks, adding the hashtag #vidaaoarlivre. Satisfied with the post, she continued her run, holding a bottle of water to stay hydrated. However, a small accident happened. Benson absentmindedly spilled some water on her pants. Although the incident was barely noticeable to most people, a young brown-haired woman was watching her closely from a nearby bench. Seeing the situation, she quickly got up and started running towards Benson. Upon reaching her, the woman accidentally hit Benson and immediately apologized: "Sorry, oops! It looks like I spilled water on you." The woman was also carrying a bottle of water, showing a strange coincidence. Benson replied casually, "Don't worry, it's no big deal." However, the lady insisted, offering a solution: "Let's go to the bathroom. That way you can clean yourself better." Benson, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the woman's insistence, hesitated for a moment. She didn't have much strength to resist, and before she could say anything, the woman grabbed her hand and started dragging her towards the park's bathroom. However, her words seemed to fall on deaf ears. The woman was determined and showed no signs of stopping. In a moment of desperation, Benson began to think something was wrong. Her heart was beating fast, and she felt a sudden dizziness take over her body. Before she could understand what was happening, the woman, with a cloth in hand, roughly placed it over Benson's mouth. The cloth gave off a strange odor, and the girl felt increasingly weak. It was as if some kind of sleeping medication was mixed into that fabric. The brown-haired woman went unnoticed by other people in the park, acting like any mother with a child. Her car, an ordinary black SUV, didn't attract attention. Opening the back door of the vehicle revealed a car seat used for children. Carefully, she placed Benson in the car seat and fastened the seat belts, treating her as if she were a child. Taking advantage of the situation, the woman inserted a pacifier into Benson's mouth, as if she was trying to maintain the appearance of an ordinary, harmless child. Once everything was ready, the woman quickly left, heading away from the park and southern Maine. The fate was uncertain, but one thing was clear: Benson was being taken away against her will. -------------------------------------------------------------- Meanwhile, in Washington, D.C., a young special agent named Paul was lying in his bed, resting, when he received an unexpected call. When he answered, he heard a familiar woman's voice: "Special Agent Paul." She was Monica Martinez, the head of the F.N.C agency (FBI, NCIS and CIA) and a high-ranking figure in the intelligence service hierarchy. Monica got straight to the point: "There's been a kidnapping in Maine. I need you immediately. Come here in ten minutes." Paul recognized the seriousness of the situation and the urgent tone in his boss's voice. He quickly responded, "Okay, I'll be there." Paul hung up the phone

Anya was quietly filling out paperwork in her office- it was another late night. Being a high level executive of a famous marketing company, there was ALWAYS work to be done. People were clamoring after their world famous ad designs, posters, billboards... And though she was happy to lend such a service, it was exhausting after so much time. So... It wasn't too big of a suprise when her eyes began to wander, and she saw a dark figure out in the hallway. Strange... Usually the office was empty by now except for her! She slowly got up, crept out into the hallway, and followed the sound of quiet but clunky footsteps, until she found one of her new interns- not any of those young, keen, cutesy interns who were happy to do her bidding and get some meaningless praise- but an adult adult like her! One who was just starting out in her career, but one who was still, nonetheless, a degree holding career woman, like any other. Anya raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing here, huh?" She called out softly. When she finally saw the girl in her entirety, she was shocked to see that she was not holding a lunchbox or a briefcase- it was a trashbag that seemed to be... dripping? Anya approached the girl and gently took the bag, glaring at the girl. Was she trying to smuggle out stolen money or something? Unthinkable! And besides... Why would it be wet? Anya's face turned from anger to confusion when she saw what was inside- a pair of wet pants and a wet thong too! "What is this? What are you doing here so late and with something like this?" She asked quietly, prepared to handle the situation when she was inevitably given the wrong- or right- answer. It wasn't like the girl could go anywhere and hide, either. They were on the tenth floor of a big office building, she couldn't jump out of the window, and Anya stood between her and the main staircase!

Chapter 1 Rush week. The very beginning of her university experience, and the best opportunity she’d have to meet friends she might have for the rest of her life. Riley had chosen this university specifically because of the party scene here. She was smart and had good grades, and she’d been captain of the cheer squad in high school. She could’ve gone anywhere she wanted, but this seemed like a place she could spend her 4 years partying, drinking, and getting as much dick as she could handle. “The girls at alpha beta tau seemed nice” she thought to herself as she walked to the party she was heading to, “maybe a little to focused on the academic side of things”. The party she was going to was hosted by beta pi. Normally the fraternities would throw parties and just invite the sorority girls, but this was technically a “meet and greet” for all the girls trying to rush the place. And all the hot guys they’d invited. Fuck, she was getting horny just thinking about it. She fully intended to fuck at least 2 guys at the party, maybe even at the same time. She’d always been a kinky girl, but now that she was in college and surrounded by people that also just wanted to fuck, she could finally let herself loose. The party was fun. She got drunk off white claws and vodka cranberry almost immediately. The other girls there were sooooooo fun too. If she could be in any fraternity, she really wanted to be in this one. Some guy was walking up to her. He was cute enough, but not really her type. “Hey! You got a nice pooper. I’d love to shove my face in there hehehe” were his first words to her. Not a great opener. She already hadn’t liked him, but now he seemed downright creepy. Then an idea popped into Riley’s head. That’d be hilarious. “Oh, you mean this”, she said coyly, turning and bending over a little to show her ass off to him, “go ahead, why don’t you give it a little kiss” as she lifted up her dress a bit. “Right here?” he asked a little incredulously, gesturing to all the people around them. “Aw, what’s wrong, too embarrassed to do it in front of all your friends?” She countered in a condescending tone. From the way his face was looking as she said this, she knew she had him. “Ok” he responded with his dumb, excited looking face. She turned so her ass was completely facing him and lifted her dress up all the way as he knelt down to kiss it. He was clearly still a little embarrassed about this and just went for a soft peck on her left buttcheek. “Come on, you can do better than that”, she chided him. She reached around to grab his head in one of her hands while holding her dress up with the other, and shoved his face directly into her ass crack. She waited for a moment. She wanted to make sure he was really enjoying himself before she put her plan into motion. He wasn’t struggling, in fact she was pretty sure she’d just heard a sniff. And was that his tongue? Oh my god, he was actually licking her ass crack. Yeah, it was definitely time now, she could see a few of the sorority sisters watching. Riley clenched her ass cheeks. The moment she did, she could feel the guy try to pull away, but her hand kept his head firmly in place. And then- PRRRRRRBT! She let out a loud, intense fart on his face. Now he was really trying to get away, she had to use both hands and grab onto his hair to keep him in place as she let out a few more hOOOO! fssshht! prrrrrrrrrt. She sent three more farts directly into this guy’s face before he managed to stagger away from her. Both the sorority girls and his friends who’d been watching were laughing their asses off as he tried to get up, tripped over himself, and then half-ran away while trying not to throw up. Riley was laughing too. It was funny. Imagine being someone that pathetic. Wait, one of the girls was coming over to talk to her. She was still laughing about it. This was her chance to get in with the beta pi girls. “That was HILARIOUS!” The slightly older girl said to her. She was pretty, with brown hair, dark skin, and her makeup looked fantastic. She was probably about 2 years older than Riley, a junior. “I know, right? guys like that usually don’t take just like, being rejected, but now I’m sure you won’t be seeing him again” “Thank you. I don’t even know who invited that guy, he’s not even that hot, maybe he just snuck in with some of his friends.” “Do guys do that?” “All the time girl. You think they don’t wanna get in here to have a shot with girls that look like us? It’s not too big of a problem, but sometimes you get creeps like that guy” She snickered “what was it he said again” “He said ‘hey, you got a nice pooper’” the older girl lost it when Riley said that “POOPER?! Who calls a girl’s ass her ‘pooper’” she said in between her uproarious cackling. Riley couldn’t help but join in the laughter. It was such a bad opener, how could he possibly think that would work on girls? “hey, what was your name again” asked the older girl once she finally calmed down enough to talk. “I’m Riley” “I’m Katie. Are you a freshman here?” “Yeah” “You trying to rush beta pi?” “I heard you always get invited to the best parties, and Scarlet’s in my history class, she told me to stop by” “Oh, Scarlet invited you? She’d lose her shit if I told her about what you did to that guy, I’ll have to remember. Riley? You’re awesome, you should come by the house on Tuesday. We’re having another event, but this one’s gonna be more of a private thing, we’re only inviting girls who we’re thinking about letting into the sorority.” Yes! She was in! She was sure it wouldn’t be a problem to get the girls to like her at the private meeting. She hadn’t had any trouble being popular in high school, and she already had a great story to tell everyone there. “Absolutely! I’ll be there” Riley said, beaming with a smile on her face “Oh yeah, there is one thing I should probably mention” Katie interjected “What is it?” “Well, since it is a competitive environment to get in, you know, we got a lot of girls trying to rush us this year, we do do some hazing for our rushes. It’s usually not anything too serious, just trying to embarrass you mostly.” “Like how?” “Well, for one thing, we give all of you a ‘house name’ that you have to use instead of your real name whenever you’re with us” “What like you just give us a different name?” “Well, for you, I think I have something already in mind” “You do?” asked Riley, a little worried “Whenever you’re here, from now on, we’re gonna call you Pooper” Chapter 2 For an “exclusive event”, the house looked pretty busy, Riley thought. There were probably at least 40 or 50 girls here, most of them looking like they were about her age. That was a little worrying, given what Katie had told her about it being competitive to get in, but if anyone could handle it she was sure it would be her. Still, it was a fun little get together. The bachelor was playing on the tv, and while this was officially a sober event, she’d already smoked some weed with Scarlet beforehand and she was probably going to head back out with these two girls she was talking to to have some more in a minute “Oh, did you hear that apparently we have to go through ‘hazing’ to get in here” said one of the two, a short indian girl dressed in leggings that showed off her extremely muscular thighs “I heard about that, I’m a little worried but Katie told me it’s not anything too bad. Just like, having to show your tits to a bunch of guys or something” said the other girl “I was gonna do that anyway this weekend” said Riley, eliciting a giggle from the shorter girl. “Oh, by the way, I didn’t quite catch your two names” “She’s Manny” Katie interjected, having just walked up and gesturing at the indian girl, “and her name is Wetthroat” she said regarding the other girl. “Don’t forget, you have to use your house names while you’re trying to rush, Pooper” Katie continued with a smirk. Fuck. She’d forgotten all about that. I mean, if all of the rushes were doing it, it wouldn’t be that bad she supposed. At least she had a funny story to go along with her name. Now that she thought about it, maybe the other girls did too. Riley made a mental note to ask them about that once she had the opportunity. “By the way, I’m just letting everybody know that in a minute we’re gonna share the first event for rushes, so head outside” said Katie “Oh, what’s the event?” asked Riley, “Is there another party for us to go to?” “You’ll see in a minute. I gotta go tell the other girls, just head outside ok?” Katie turned away to go tell the other girls. Across the room Riley heard her “heeeyyyyy. We’re heading outside now to talk about the next rush event” as she was walking out through the sliding glass doors with feminist quotes and memes taped up onto them. Outside the other girls were starting to gather around a makeshift stage they’d set up next to some speakers. It was a little cold out; Riley hadn’t felt like she needed to dress too slutty since it was only going to be girls here, but even the strapless dress she’d chosen still wasn’t exactly the warmest thing she could’ve picked. “Hey, do you vape?” Manny interjected, offering Riley a hit off of her carti. “What flavor is it?” Riley asked as she took it, immediately bringing it to her lips without even waiting for an answer. She’d brought her own vape of course, but it was in her bag inside and she didn’t want to go back in to get it, and it was close to dead anyway. “This one’s watermelon, I mean if you couldn’t already tell” Manny responded, giggling a bit. “Alright everyone, we’re so happy to see you all here!” Katie yelled from atop the makeshift stage. It looked like she’d finally gotten everyone outside and was ready to give this big announcement. The girls in the crowd responded with a resounding “wooooooo!” “Anyway, I think I already told most of you, but beta pi had a lot of applicants this year, and, unfortunately, that means we might not be able to let you all in” “Awwwwww!” moaned the crowd in an exaggerated way “I know, I love all of you and I wish we could let all of you in, but we’re only allowed to let a certain number of girls in each year. I’ve tried asking the university about that but for now that’s the rule. Anyways, obviously we want to make sure that we find whoever’s the best fit for us, so we’re gonna be doing a round of interviews with each of you. We’ll go around and give everyone a number that we’ll call, and until then, you can just hang out, I know we said this was a sober event but…” As she trailed off, two other older girls came carrying baskets of alcohol. Riley couldn’t see it clearly, but it looked like it was mostly wine and champagne. Some of the girls in the front cheered one more time, and then the crowd started to disperse. Some of the girls went back inside, some went to go collect the alcohol, but Riley thought this was her chance. Now that the speech was over, she approached where Katie had just gotten down from the podium. “He-ey” said Riley “He-ey” Katie returned “Great speech” “Thanks” said Katie, looking a little more sheepish now than she had a moment ago “I was a little nervous, it’s my first time doing this in front of everyone” “You did amazing, I could never” responded Riley, who had never once struggled with public speaking “Thank youuuu!” Katie responded in the overly sweet voice of someone who was already a little drunk. She pulled Riley in for a hug as she was saying that. “Oh, did you get your number yet?” “Not yet, I mean, I don’t think anyone has yet” said Riley “Oh, psssh, right, I’m stupid. Here, you can be number 1.” said Katie, but then paused. “Wait. You can be number 2, Pooper” Haha real funny. Riley faked a laugh despite really being embarrassed by the reminder that that was what she was going to have to be called. She really wanted to rush here, so she was just going to have to deal with it, but she wished she could have at least gotten something like Manny that was a little less embarrassing. “I’m gonna go give these out to the rest of the girls, you should be called pretty soon though since you’re only number 2, I’ll see you after though” Katie said, walking away to do just that. Saying that she would see her after, not during the interview, worried Riley a little though. She’d kind of been assuming that Katie would be the one leading the interview. Not that it’d be a problem for a boss bitch like her though, obviously. She would do fine, there’s no way they could dislike her. She did want some of that champagne though. Despite what Katie had said, it was about 20 minutes before they actually started calling anyone to start the interviews. This gave Riley plenty of time to drink, she had to admit, a little more than she probably should have. She’d been a party girl back in high school and gotten drunk plenty of times before, but she’d never had champagne before. It tasted really good actually, much better than what she was used to, and plus they kept offering it to her and the girls were so nice and she didn’t want to seem rude. “here, take another shot” some redheaded girl who looked about a year or two older than her said to Riley “Thanks, I think I’ve probably hit my limit for now. Don’t want to throw up in the middle of my interview” she responded “You’ll be fine, trust me, you look like someone who knows how to keep it down. Here just try one more” the redheaded girl insisted. Against her better judgement Riley took the shot. That last shot hit her a lot harder than she expected, and she actually stumbled as she headed back over to the couch. They’d called number one a few minutes ago, and Riley knew her number was gonna get called any second now, but suddenly she was hit with a pang in her bladder. Fuck, that champagne had gone right through her. She really had to pee. As she got up to go look for the bathroom, though, suddenly she heard it. “number 2, does anybody know where number 2 is? We’re ready for you” Fuck. She really had to piss, but it looked like she’d need to go deal with this first. She walked over the girl who was calling for her, hoping desperately that… “Hey, I’m number 2” said Riley, holding up the piece of paper Katie had given her. The girl she was talking to was shorter than Riley, and Riley couldn’t tell whether she was Filipina or Mexican. She was also had the kind of curves that Riley fantasized about having. Riley was proud of her ass, of course, but this girl had hips and tits like a cartoon mom. None of that mattered right now though. “Ummm, I’m so sorry, but could you actually wait just a minute while I run to the bathroom?” “Oh, don’t worry, this won’t take too long” the girl responded, making it clear that, unless she wanted to look pushy in front of the sorority she was trying to impress, she was just going to have to wait. “They never take more than a few minutes”. Once again against her better judgement, Riley began to walk towards the interview. The Beta Pi house had a weird little structure out in the yard. She wasn’t sure whether it was like a shed, or some type of garage, it was made out of cement, but, well, that was where the interviews were being held. As Riley walked towards the structure, hoping that her awkward shuffle would be attributed to the heels she’d worn and not her desperate attempts to hold in her pee, she saw the previous girl, a tall, blonde, white girl with the kind of tits that would’ve made Riley jealous if she hadn’t been focusing on her own shit right now, walking back towards the house. She looked a little red-faced, and was adjusting her skirt down, but Riley didn’t pay much attention to her; she had her own issues to deal with. The two girls who’d been handing out the alcohol were standing there in the doorway, admittedly looking pretty welcoming. One of them was the redhead who’d convinced Riley to take that last shot. Fuck. They probably wanted her to get drunk so they’d be able to see what she was like shitfaced. To be fair, Riley was usually pretty good at handling her booze, even she’d been surprised how hard this stuff had hit. It was probably the combination of that and the weed she’d smoked earlier with Scarlet. She was never getting crossed again, she mentally swore. And not like those other times that she’d sworn she’d never get crossed again, this time she was actually serious. As she walked in, there was one other girl who Riley didn’t recognize standing next to a table. She was a skinny black girl in incredible shape; even Riley’s ass, the asset she was most proud of, couldn’t hope to compete with the rock hard dumptruck the girl who introduced herself as “Kristal” had going on. “Hiiiiii, it’s so great to finally meet you, Katie told us all about you” Kristal said as Riley walked in, offering Riley a hug. It was a nice gesture, but they couldn’t know how close the pressure pushed her to pissing herself. It did not get easier when the other two girls, “Elle” and “Mina” repeated the gesture. They had a folding table set up with three chairs. Riley’d been hoping that she’d be able to at least sit down, as it might make it a little easier on her bladder, but Kristal’s direction of “Just stand over there on the X and we can get started” shut down what little hope she’d had after already only seeing 3 chairs. The X was spray painted over a drain, which, Riley grimly considered, would at least make the cleanup easier if she wasn’t able to hold it throughout the interview. “So, tell us about yourself, for starters what’s your name?” “Hi, I’m Ri-Sorry I’m Pooper” Riley barely remembered to use the house name they’d given her at the last second, realizing as soon as she said it that they’d probably already known her name and just meant that as a test. “So, Pooper, how’d you get that name?” She recounted the story of the party the previous weekend, her ego swelling with pride as the girls all both laughed and looked impressed when she got to the part where she farted on that creep’s face. “haHA, sounds like you’d fit in here like that guy’s face fit in your asscrack” Kristal blurted out while laughing. “Alright, you’re doing great, I just got one more question for ya” Thank. Fuck. Her bladder had passed the point where it was just difficult for her to hold it in the middle of that story, she was now in actual pain. “Ok” Riley managed to muster, hoping it didn’t seem too stilted and awkward “What would you do to get in to this sorority?” Fuck. This was one she’d actually have to think about. She needed to give a good answer, it shouldn’t be hard, but if she concentrated on that… “I mean, what would you want me to do?” Riley responded, hoping that that would at least buy her some time to think of a real answer. Maybe if she was lucky they would even tell her what she needed to do; Katie had mentioned hazing after all, maybe they were just talking about that. “Piss yourself.” The room was silent for a moment. “Wh-what?” Riley asked in shock, while also trying not to let on that the moment she had registered the command she had, in fact, let out a tiny spurt of piss into her panties, barely managing to stop it from turning into something she wouldn’t be able to hide. “Bitch, I see how bad you have to go” Kristal continued Elle chimed in, “and I saw how you were downing all those shots and champagne glasses” “How many did she have?” Kristal asked with giggly smile on her face “Like 7” Elle responded “Daaaamn gurl. No wonder you been doin that little potty dance this whole time” Kristal directed a comment that sounded almost impressed at Riley. “So, how bad you wanna be in this Sorority?” “Bad” was all Riley could muster. “Then why don’t you be a good girl, and piss yourself” Kristal said. “Right here?” Riley asked. In front of all of you? “Yeah right here! Go on and do it! Go peepee, come on, let’s see it” As Kristal said that, the dam in Riley’s bladder finally broke. It was the alcohol, the pain, the girls telling her to do it, everything, she just couldn’t hold it anymore. The stream of her piss quickly soaked through her panties, and began dribbling down her leg. For once she was actually thankful that she’d worn heels, as her pee awkwardly streamed over her foot, which fortunately she wasn’t wearing socks on for it to soak into. Kristal and the other girls started cackling uproariously, and Riley’s face turned beet red from embarrassment. She was a grown-ass 18 year old woman, and she was still, currently, pissing herself in front of other people. These were the girls she was trying to impress. “Here, turn around, let’s see it from the back” Mina chortled, as piss was still streaming down Riley’s legs. She didn’t refuse. Finally, after almost a full minute, her bladder started to feel empty. The girls did not stop laughing, and only laughed harder when Riley re clenched her bladder, shooting out a final extra spurt of pee. At least the drain she was standing above absorbed most of it. She stood there awkwardly, the most embarrassed she ever been, and rapidly becoming sober enough to realize what she’d done, for about 30 seconds, before leaving with a sheepish “thank you” to the girls that had been interviewing her. As she walked back to find a bathroom and get herself cleaned up, she was too focused on adjusting her dress to try to hide her still-dripping legs, to notice the next girl carefully, awkwardly walking towards the interview area, with her legs pressed together.

Ms Jaimie: *the 5’4 brown haired petite math teacher sighed as she handed the tests back to her four worst students” here are your tests girls I must I’m very disappointed looks like it’s summer school again and of course no cheerleading next year but of course this wouldn’t be happening if you four actually bunker down

The start plays in my head how we got here, We had been friends since diapers, growing up I was always the defacto leader of us. As we grew through the years I used anything I could to tease you both in private and public, friends strangers it didnt matter to me. Giving wedgies and panting you were everyday things, the worst though was when ever I brought up your constant bed wetting and the never ending need for diapers. Even after you stopped and grew up bigger than me I used it to put you down, anyone new we would meet would quickly learn of it. I had just turned 19 and we both started college and decided to move in together it didnt take you long to discover my deepest seceret. The first time you had walked into my room early morning and caught me jerking my 3 inch dick. You quickly closed the door and never mentioned it but as the weeks went on a plan formed in your mind, maybe it was time for some revenge and take me down a few pegs. One night after getting super high a bet was made loser had to suck the winner off, an hour later found me naked on my knees, your load fresh on my face, and your phone up having filmed the whole thing with my hard peeppee hard as i passed out you locked a pink chastity on me, you were in control now. So this is kinda the flashback to how this story starts i would like to discuss where this might go and what you are willing to write. I try to write about that much at a time and I try to post daily at least.

Countess Paule de la Fraise had always been unkind to those less prestigious than her at court, which included everyone except Queen Liza and her courtesans. She particularly looked down on the littles who resided at court, treating them with disdain due to her belief in their inferiority. Not only was she the most corrupt aristocrat in the entire court, but her scandals were so numerous that Queen Marie eventually decided to take action. After her latest scandal, the Queen had her countess arrested to put an end to her mistreatment of others. When brought before the Queen for judgment, it was made clear that the evidence of her corruption and abuse was undeniable. The Queen presented her with three options to choose from: capital punishment, lifelong exile, or de-Amazonization.

A/N: IMPORTANT TO NOTICE Hey all! I hope you're all doing well! Do not worry! I am still working on my other stories but had started this a while ago and felt like I should post it! Just a warning in the beginning that this story will contain a lot of non-con, sexual content and humiliation. If this makes you uncomfortable than I suggest you don't read it! I love seeing comments so I'd love to see everyone's comments! ooOoo Summary: When a young new independent journalist decides to write about something other than the typical run of the mill stories, she is introduced into a new life, just not in the way she expected. ooOoo Chapter 1: MommyslittleBiggurls.com 22 December 2021 Hello Friends! It sure has been a while! I hope you’re all doing well on this frosty morning. Here in Montana, we’re certainly going to have a white Christmas. Sugar and Cookie sure are excited to see Santa and have been extra careful to be good girls; always asking for the potty like good little girls, eating all of their veggies at dinner and making sure to drink all of their babas full of yummy milk! I’m sure you all are experiencing the same with your little ones at the moment, even the disobedient can’t ignore the happy cheer of Christmas. I really can’t believe it’s only been three months since we first adopted our newest little girl, Honey! Of course with new littles, it’s always an adventure and Sugar and Cookie are being the best big sisters they can be! It can be hard, especially around the holidays to deal with an un-regressed, naughty little so that brings me to the topic of today’s post: Punishments. If you're like me or are a new caregiver, it’s never easy training a new little and before they can be our sweet little babies, they will be literal demons! It is never fun but in order to nip that naughty behavior in the bum, punishment is required and it is not always as simple as quick spanking. Listed below, you will find three different punishments to try if you, like me, were at a loss. Punishments: Punishment 1: Corner time with a twist Depending on the severity of the naughty behavior, instruct your little one it's corner time for a certain amount of time. While many, if not all, will just find this incredibly boring and whine, there is a small twist. Listen carefully to these five steps: Take littles’ clothes away (that means no diapers/pullups/or undies as well!), Give a nice soapy cold enema to their bum-bum and insert a buttplug to ensure no dribbles Administer a firm spanking (I’ve found different objects such as a belt or hairbrush to be most effective!) Little will bend down or kneel in the corner with their bum-bum high in the air for everyone to see After a certain amount of time, if the little has not moved from their position, you will instruct the little to tell you what they did wrong and have them beg to release their bodily functions. If you are unsatisfied with their response, even more minutes will be added to corner time Punishment 2: Potty Time with Horsy Let’s get real, we’ve all struggled with littles refusing to go potty in their diapers or on the training toilet and it’s a pain to have to insert enemas and suppositories into screaming littles. That’s how I came up with horsy time. The rocking horse, while meant to be an object of amusement during playtime, can just as quickly be turned into an object of torture. What you need to do is listed below: The little will sit on the rocking horse in only their bottoms, whether that be a diaper or pull-up Place earphones on little and set to the wet diaper hypnosis Instruct the little to rock back and forth and do not stop no matter what and not to mess or wet themselves Plan a certain amount of time and come back when the time is up If the little is still rocking and is dry, they have earned the privilege to go potty. If not, horsy time is extended and the dirty diaper stays on another several hours The constant rhythmic motion combined with hypnosis at the same timing will put the littles right in the mood to have to relieve themselves. How they do it will no longer matter. The added pressure to keep a constant rocking in order to avoid further punishment will take a heavy toll on their mind as well and increase the need for positive behavior. Punishment 3: No Playtime with Teddy If you choose to allow your little to have any sexual release, this punishment can have a rewarding effect. As a human race, we are sexual beings but not everyone deserves or should have such an experience. Littles have gotten it into their minds that they should be allowed to have such experiences, but what do they know? They’re just littles. It is our job as caretakers to instruct and control their urges. If we leave them to their own devices, who knows what will happen? My little girls are allowed one play session a week with Mr. Teddy Bear to release all of their icky cummies by the hand of mommy and daddy. While Rosie and Cookie know being a good girl will lead to happy feelings, Honey is still learning. Orgasm and cum denial or “the tickles and ice cream dance” as we call it, are an excellent way to assert dominance and make them quickly realize who the real grownups are and who is in charge. Mittens or restraints are a must for untrained littles! You never know where their wandering hands will end up! Chastity belts are also a great device, especially if they get a little too excited during playtime and try humping (which is extremely discouraged!) IMPORTANT: It is important to enforce anything sexual is not allowed without the approval, observation, and act by grown-ups because you never know when littles might accidentally injure themselves! I hope you all enjoyed my little list and hopefully it helps you on your journey to having a regressed little! It may seem tough at times but we’ve all gone through it before (I currently am!) Stay tuned for next time and meanwhile, have a Merry Christmas! Love, Mommy Bree ooOoo The sound of the ding signaling the post had been successfully posted was a happy feeling to say the least. Unknown outside the world of ageplay, Bree Hawthorne was as famous as could be within the community. With over ten thousand followers and readers, people tuned in from all over the world to read about their simple little family. Being a blogger on top of a mommy had become her full time job and she didn’t regret a single second of it. She always knew she wanted to have a family and her love for blogging couldn’t have been a more perfect combination. There were so many who envied to fill the role of a Hawthorne little but only so few could actually meet the requirements. That’s why they had taken to unique means of obtaining their little girls. Kidnapping was a bit too harsh a term. They preferred adoption. Did the public need to know that? No. Would they ever find out? Probably not. Looking around outside the large glass windows, the only view for miles was farmland with snow capped mountains in the background. Bloomington, Montana was the perfect place to go to if one didn’t want to be found. They had the freedom to be who they were without any nosey neighbors disrupting their lives. Her husband, coming from old money, allowed them to own lavish homes around the country, buy the newest high-tech adult-baby equipment and pay off those they needed to stay quiet. Everything was as it should be. Everything would soon be perfect. They were our babydolls. Sugar, Cookie, Honey and- “Another post?” Jasper. At the sound of his deep voice, she spun around in the swivel chair. Face to face with her blonde, strong-jawed, blue eyed handsome husband. He was everything she dreamed of in a man. Strong, smart, caring, loyal. A great daddy to their three wonderful girls. What more could a person ask of a spouse? “Yes. I’ve finished just in time for… lunch!” she exclaimed, glancing at the time and shutting down the macbook. “Today’s post was about punishments and I gave the best examples of Honey. How is she doing this morning actually? The baby monitor on her end has been awfully quiet.” she asked, having been in the office the entire morning working. “Sleeping.” was his only response, scowling with his hand over his face. “Do I want to know what happened?” “No.” It was always a struggle to tame the girl and her rebellious behavior and silly dreams. Most often then not her bum was black and blue, littered with marks and bruises. How a five foot, one-hundred-twenty pound girl with not an ounce of body fat had managed to give them this much a fight, they did not know. While the little blonde fought they pushed back just as hard. She would break eventually. They all do. “Sugar and Cookie are in the playpen writing letters to Santa,” that made them crack a smile. “I can feed them while you handle, Honey? I may just take her over my knee again and that’s not what she needs at the moment.” Bree reached out, wrapping her arms around his neck as his face burrowed into her kinky black hair, placing a trail of kisses upon her chocolate colored skin. “So it’s my turn to play the bad mommy,” she mused. “Precisely.” her husband cracked a smile. “It feels so much longer than three months since we got her. Remember?” Oh, how could they forget…

Chapter 1 This is the story of a red panda with pink fur. Her name is Alice. She was not supposed to live past the age of 2. Her parents are both also red pandas but with normal fur. Her mom's name is Jane and she is 5 foot 6. Her dad's name is Cree. He is about 5 foot 9. They were both normal in height and both lived normal lives. They quickly fall in love after meeting at an archery contest. Jane and Cree made it to the semi-finals. Both of them have hit all their shots right on the bullseye, all they had to do was not miss or get distracted. Jane smirks at Cree giving him a cheeky wink. She yells over to him. "Hey, tell you what you beat me and I might let you get to know me better. But if I win you are going to buy me lunch." Jane says and blows a kiss at him. His mind was racing. He was never much of a lady's man. He just liked archery and kept to himself he never had a girl come on to him like this. He took a deep breath In and out. He shook his head and took aim. She might be hot and a girl but she wasn't going to take it easy on her. "Don't miss cutie~" Jane yells at him giggling. This makes the man panic and let go of his arrow pointing straight up. The arrow comes back down, landing right through his foot. Cree screams as Jane runs over to him. "Oh no! I didn't mean for that to happen! Just relax, this might hurt a bit sweetie." She says yanking the arrow right out. This causes Cree to scream trying not to cry in pain. He didn't want to look weak in front of someone so cute. He watched as she took off her sleeved shirt leaving her only in an undershirt and rips it up and ties it tight around his foot. "Let's get you to the hospital, I think I owe you that at least. Then maybe you can buy me that lunch." She says smiling at him. His voice cracks as he goes to speak. "Cree…" He says blushing but still in a lot of pain. She giggled but looked confused. "M-my name that is…" Cree says in a panic. Jane smiles and hugs him. "My name’s Jane, nice to meet you cutie. Though I wish it was better circumstances." This was their first time meeting; they were both about 22 years old at this point. They grew closer and closer before eventually getting married a few years later. Though it had to be said Jane never let Cree play the dominant one. She loved him but also loved to be on top. This might have caused the problem where Jane got pregnant. It was another year later but after some casual sex and wearing out the red panda boy Jane found out she was pregnant. She screamed from the bathroom. She had no intention of having kids. At least not yet. She couldn't believe how badly she wanted him the other day and didn't get off him letting him go full load in her. Cree runs into the bathroom. "What's wrong?!" He asks. She just sighs again. "Looks like we are going to have a kid…" Cree was overly excited but Jane not as much. Maybe secretly, over the next few months, she got more and more excited about the idea. Then after finding out it was a girl she was even more excited. She couldn't wait. Her belly grew more and more. Before one night they laid down to go to sleep her water broke just before she was out. They rushed her to the hospital where she screamed and cried as she gave birth to their new daughter. They named Alice this was Jane's idea she was named after her grandma. But something was off her fur was not red like her mom and dad but pinker. She was taken away by the doctors to get the normal check-up and cleaned up. Cree held Jane's hand. "Pink fur huh? What could cause that? My whole family was red I believe?" Cree says. Jane looks down thinking then looks up nervously. "I remember my grandma telling me of a story that she had a boy with pink fur but…" She says then covers her mouth beginning to cry. "B-but he didn't make it…" She continued. Cree tears up. "Surely not! She will be fine… I-" Just then the doctors walk into the room and hand Jane the baby. Alice just cries till she sees her mom before she just smiles reaching up at her. Jane smiles letting the newborn play with her fingers. The doctor then sighs. "I have something important to say. I'm sorry but she… will be lucky to make it past the age of 2. She has a very rare sickness, it has to do with a rare mutation that causes her fur to turn pink. I have never seen a child live past the ages of two but I hope I'm wrong, I'm sorry." They both broke into tears hugging her tight. They wanted to give her the best life they could before she could leave them. They took her on trip after trip, almost never spending time at home. They took her to theme parks and just all over the world, they spent all the money they had on her. But one day on Alice's first birthday all this stress and going out every day for so long put Jane into a heart attack. Cree rushes her to a hospital straight to the emergency room. She was lucky she made it through but she will have to stay at home and try not to push herself. Anything crazy, exciting or stressing on her heart again might kill her. Alice was about a year old now and the family was celebrating her first birthday. Alice was sitting In her high chair looking up at her mom and dad. "Happy birthday princess!" Cree and Jane yell. As they cheer and laugh. This makes Alice laugh and hits her tray with her hands excitedly. Jane and Cree both give her a big cake saying we love you on it. Suddenly Jane begins crying. "Eat all you want baby girl… w-we might not get to do this next year." Cree Hugs her and she begins to bawl. Alice looks excited by the cake and begins to make a mess while eating some of the cake. After a while of playing she looks up at her mom and dad crying then also begins to bawl not knowing what's wrong but knowing something is wrong. The rest of the year was spent as peacefully as possible to make sure Jane didn't go through another heart attack. This was rough on the family after the last year but they made it through. It's been a decent year but no changes are seen by Alice, no worse condition or anything. They ended up taking her to the hospital to be re-tested after hours and hours of waiting as the doctor walked in. Alice was playing with some toys in a small playpen while Cree and Jane watched. "We got good news! We don't understand how but she doesn't appear to have any of the symptoms anymore but there's still some strange things going on. She might be ok if only a few defects later on in life, But keep a very close eye on her." They both looked excited and hugged laughing and crying. But suddenly the strain of this excitement hit Jane as she screamed and held her chest. She was quickly rushed to the hospital. Cree grabbed Alice. He was crying and hugging her so worried about his wife as she was rushed to a different room. Alice was worried about her dad just playing with his shirt and chewing on it looking up at him. They sat out in the waiting room for nearly 8 hours then the doctors walked in looking down. "Cree… we are so sorry but Jane has passed from a heart attack. We did everything we could, we are deeply sorry." Cree hugs Alice tight and cries like crazy. Alice also begins to cry because her dad was crying. Cree knew he was losing someone this year but his wife was not what he expected. Many years pass after this. Alice is now about 10 years old and 4 feet tall. She was oddly short for her age but it wasn't crazy. Cree comes into her room while she sleeps and shakes her awake. "Time to wake up princess and get ready for school. I got to work too. I probably won't be home when you get home so I'll have a babysitter for you when you get home." Cree says. Alice grones and sits up. "But daddy I don't want a babysitter. I'm 10 years old now and I'm not a little girl anymore…" She says rubbing her eyes. Cree smiles and hugs her. "I know sweetie. But I just don't want anything bad to happen to you. I couldn't stand losing you after losing your mom about 8 years ago today." Alice hugs her dad. "I'm sorry dad… I wish I remembered mom. What was mom like daddy?" He smiled and rubbed her head. "Honestly she was a lot like you. Stubborn and going to have it her way. But she was loving and caring. She loved you so much. I miss her so much." Cree says. Alice frowns looking down. “But I'm just happy to have my little girl!” He said as he tickled her. Both him and Alice laughed and she smiled at him after he stopped. "Now get in the shower. Make sure you get clean this time." Cree says as he walks out of her room. She giggled. “Ok, daddy!” She jumped up and grabbed some clothes that were normal for her age. They looked about normal, maybe a little more childish than she wanted but it wasn't crazy for a 10-year-old. She goes to the bathroom and takes a shower and puts on some blue shortalls on then puts on a cute blue hat heading down to the kitchen. Her dad was already gone but had a pb&J sandwich sitting out for her. Alice smiles and takes walks outside and sits on the porch waiting for the school bus. She swings her legs happily and eats her pb&J. She had a pretty decent life. They might not have tons of money or a perfect house but it was a better life than living on the street or something. Suddenly the bus honks. Alice jumps down off the porch and runs off to the bus with her backpack on, She gets on the bus and looks around. There were a few people that stuck out to her. One was a young boy in the front; he always sat up straight holding his books and smiled at Alice. She gives an awkward smile and waves back. He was a human that wore a shirt with Eevee on it. They were playing tug of War and wore some aqua shorts. He was always super nice to her and she pretended to be nice to him. She didn't hate him, he was just a little weird and always talked about protecting her and stuff. It was kinda creepy to her. The next was a little lion, his mane hasn't grown in yet but he always teased Alice. He wore a camo shirt and jeans. He smirks as Alice passes. "Hey Alice and here I thought you wore pants to school, not just underwear!" She jumps and quickly looks down but she did put on clothing. Why was she tricked by that? She stomps her foot. "Dang it, Ram! I hate you so much, you are such a jerk!" She yells going to the back of the bus and sitting embarrassed. Suddenly the bus driver yells. "Stop fighting back there!" A few people around ram laugh just mocking Alice. Alice sits thinking to herself. "I hate this stupid school… Why can't daddy just get me out of it? They told me I technically don't have to go. Something about… my symptoms might come back eventually, that when I'm grown up I'm going to be set for life apparently?" She sighs and looks out the window watching as they drive away from her home and slowly to the school. Later she's in class, and the bell was about to ring for the next class. The teacher is talking to the class. It's a Female Cow in a long blue dress. "Ok class, tomorrow is bring your mother to school day! So don't forget to have her sign that paper so she can come in to talk about her work and other activities." The class cheered excitedly. Alice just frowns and lays her head on the table the teacher looks worried and as the class was leaving she stopped Alice. "Hey, Alice? Can we talk?" She gulps and panics. "I didn't shoot the spit wad at Ram! He started it!" The teacher looked confused and sighs. "That's not what I was talking about, but good job incriminating yourself." She said giggling. Alice looked surprised then puffed out her cheeks and crossed her arms. "Not fair…" She smiles and rubs Alice's head but she smacks it off. "So what do you want?" Alice asks, the teacher leans down, getting face to face. "Is something wrong with your mom? You seem to get upset when I talk about it?" The teacher asks. She looks down. "My mom died when I was young… i-i wish I knew her…" She tries to keep talking but she begins crying as the teacher hugs her, Feeling awful. They gave her off mom's day to stay home with her dad. Unfortunately, her dad got called into work too so she had to be with a babysitter. She loved her dad but she wished he could stay home more and be with her. Many more years later Alice is now 16 years old. She has not grown one-inch thanks to her strange illness. She's still 4 feet tall. Just like a normal day her dad walks into her room. "Alice, time to wake up. You're going to miss the bus." She sits up quickly only wearing a bra and panties and jumps out of bed. "Shit! Why did you let me sleep in so late?!" Her dad sighs. "Alice, please watch your mouth. You know I don't like that language." She shakes her head and shrugs. "Dad, I'm 16! I might be small and only 4 feet tall but I'm still 16! You got to let me grow up!" He laughs looking down. "Sorry, I know I know. You are just so cute. I'm happy to know you won’t die. Your mother's probably so happy. But being so small forever is a shame. I know it's been hard with school." Alice got dressed in a similar outfit when she was 10 years old. "I wish normal clothing would fit me at least… I hate wearing such childish clothing. Can’t we order special order clothing?" Her dad sighs. “You know I don't have that kinda money. As much as I would love to.” Suddenly there's a honk. "Shit the bus! Got to go, dad, love you! We can talk later!" She hugs him and runs out of the house just catching the bus. In the front there sat the same boy but definitely more Older. Everyone on the bus was 16 now. Even ram he had a bit of a mane now looked like a mean lion now. But oddly she sits right beside him. He throws his arms around her and she smiles. "Wow, cut it close huh? You didn't even comb your hair." She blushes and puts her hair down with her hands. "Oh shut up ram. My dad woke me up late." She sighs and lays against him. "You are nice and comfortable." Alice says, he smirks and leans down, and kisses her. She blushed and covered her face. "Love you." Ram said. Alice smiled back. "Love you too." Turned out Ram used to tease her because he liked her. It took her a while to fall for him but he was the only boy that seemed to like her. He was still kinda a dick but she was loved, right? After the bus ride, they got off and waved as they went to their classes. She was suddenly stopped by her three girlfriends. One was a squirrel she only wore skirts and dresses. Today it was a yellow summer dress. She was a foot and a half taller than Alice. Next was a mouse. She was white-furred and kinda a bitch but she was kinda nice to Alice. Then last was a cat she was striped with black and orange. "Hey, Alice! Are you still coming over today after school?" The mouse asks. "Hey Brittany, uhh ya I think so? We are staying all night right? I might need to get some clothes to sleep in but definitely." The squirrel smirks. "Oh ya, she needs clothing for a toddler because she is so small." Alice blushes and glares. "I'm not that small Cali!" The cat speaks up next. "Oh, Cali don't tease her. She can't help it if she still needs to wear diapers." The group laughs and Alice blushes like Crazy. "Sam! Ahhh! I'm going to class. I'll see you all after school! Or maybe I won’t, it might be nice." She goes to her class and the group laughs more before smirking at each other. It seemed the group had a plan for her. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Enjoying this? Join my patreon to read the next 10 chapters! https://www.patreon.com/Little_Rie