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This story was originally written in French. You can find the English translation here: Chapitre 1 Quand Arthur se réveilla, ce fut les habituels cris des enfants qui arrivèrent à ses oreilles. Il se leva et ouvrit les volets pour observer l'origine de ce vacarme. Des enfants riants et s’amusants dans le grand parc, voilà ce qu'était son quotidien. C'était sa famille en quelque sorte, ils vivaient tous ensemble dans cette grande maison qui appartenait à la famille d'accueil qui l'avait recueilli. Il allait malheureusement devoir la quitter car c'était le jour de ses 18 ans. 18 ans, l'âge qu'il redoutait le plus. Bien que la maison soit immense, faute de place, les enfants devaient partir à cet âge, soit dans une autre famille soit chez un proche en attendant d'être complètement indépendant. Après avoir observé les enfants avec nostalgie, il jeta un œil au portrait sur sa table de chevet. Un homme et une femme se tenait, souriants, un appareil photo a la main. Ses parents étaient journalistes, alors qu'ils partaient en reportage en Irak, une bombe a explosé à côté de l'hôtel où ils séjournaient. Arthur n'avait que 3 ans à l'époque. Il prit le portrait et le déposa dans sa valise avant de la fermer. Les adieux à la famille furent brefs. Sa mère adoptive, voyant son inquiétude, le rassura : -Ne t'inquiètes pas Arthur, la société qui gère ton dossier t'a trouvé un très bon tuteur. Il est jeune, mais a une grande maison. Tu seras bien là bas. Il les remercia encore avant de quitter la maison. Sans savoir pourquoi, Arthur redoutait la rencontre avec cet homme. Après plusieurs heures de bus, il arriva, lui et sa valise, devant un grand parking où quelques voitures étaient stationnées. Un homme lui fit signe à l'intérieur d'une BMW. Arthur s'approcha, la gorge nouée. C'était son nouveau tuteur au volant de cette belle voiture, il devait avoir 24 ans à tout casser pensa-t-il. Il était plutôt grand, des cheveux bruns aux reflets noirs, un visage d'ange. Arthur devait l'admettre : il était carrément beau. Plutôt rassuré par son physique, il entra dans la voiture. -Salut Arthur, moi c'est Liam, content d'enfin te rencontrer ! Lui lança-t-il avec un sourire radieux. -Enchanté... Liam. -Pose ta valise derrière et met ta ceinture, je t'emmène chez moi ! Enfin... Chez nous à partir d'aujourd'hui ! La route ne fut pas très longue, Liam essayait visiblement de détendre l'atmosphère en lui posant quelques questions, bien conscient que ce changement de vie devait être beaucoup d'émotions pour le jeune garçon. Ils s'arrêtèrent finalement devant une grande maison moderne, entourée par un haut portail. -Tu... as quelqu'un à voir là dedans ? Osa Arthur troublé par leur arrêt. -C'est ici que j'habite ! Ça ne te plait pas ? Ses yeux s'écarquillèrent. Comment se fait-il qu'un si jeune homme possède une maison aussi luxueuse que celle-ci. -Ah si si, bafouilla-t-il, c'est juste que… -Allez, descends ! Je m'occupe de ta valise ! -Merci... Arthur était clairement impressionné. -Et... Vous vivez seul ici ? - Tutoie-moi enfin ! Mais oui, seul dans cette grande maison... Ta présence va me changer tu sais. Ils entrèrent dans la demeure. L'entrée donnait directement sur un salon, ouvert sur la cuisine, le tout évidemment très spacieux. A côté de la cuisine se trouvait un escalier, séparés par un petit corridor. - Ta chambre est à l'étage, lui indiqua Liam. Monte, je te rejoins. Arthur prit donc l'escalier qui le mena dans un couloir, éclairé par un puits de lumière. Il s'aventura dans cette maison inconnue, observant les portes et les murs, vierges de toute décoration, jusqu'à ce qu'un détail attire son attention. Une plaque se trouvait sur une porte, et pas n'importe quelle plaque. Elle était gravée à son nom. Sur le moment, il ne su si c'était adorablement mignon comme attention, ou carrément flippant. Supposant que c'était sa chambre, il ouvrit la porte en face de lui. La lumière s'alluma toute seule et il découvrit une chambre d'ado classique –quoiqu'un peu enfantine- mais surtout extrêmement moderne. Un lit blanc légèrement surélevé, des étagères avec des petits écrans, un autre écran sur le bureau, un autre sur le mur... Arthur avait les yeux pleins d'étoiles. Lui qui était habitué à la vie pittoresque dans sa famille d'accueil pendant presque 15 ans, se dire qu'il allait vivre ici le laissait bouche bée. Seule cette armoire à côté de la fenêtre l'intriguait. Les motifs enfantins dessus contrastaient avec le reste des meubles. Il s'approcha de celle-ci lorsqu'une voix le surpris par derrière.

This story was originally written in French. You can find it here: Chapter 1 When Arthur woke up, the usual sounds of children shouting reached his ears. He got up and opened the shutters to observe the source of the noise. Laughing and playing children in the large park—this was his everyday life. In a way, they were his family; they all lived together in this big house that belonged to the foster family who had taken him in. Unfortunately, he would have to leave it because today was his 18th birthday. Eighteen, the age he dreaded the most. Despite the house being huge, due to lack of space, the children had to leave at this age, either to another family or to a relative until they were fully independent. After watching the children with nostalgia, he glanced at the picture on his bedside table. A man and a woman stood, smiling, with a camera in hand. His parents were journalists, and when they were on assignment in Iraq, a bomb exploded near the hotel where they were staying. Arthur was only three years old at the time. He picked up the picture and placed it in his suitcase before closing it. The goodbyes to the family were brief. His adoptive mother, seeing his worry, reassured him: "Don't worry, Arthur, the organization handling your case found you a very good guardian. He's young but has a big house. You'll be fine there." He thanked them once more before leaving the house. Without knowing why, Arthur dreaded meeting this man. After several hours of bus travel, he arrived, with his suitcase, in front of a large parking lot where a few cars were parked. A man signaled to him from inside a BMW. Arthur approached, his throat tight. This was his new guardian, at the wheel of that beautiful car, and he couldn't be more than 24 years old, Arthur thought. He was rather tall, with brown hair with black highlights, and an angelic face. Arthur had to admit: he was really handsome. Somewhat reassured by his appearance, he got into the car. "Hi Arthur, I'm Liam, nice to finally meet you!" he said with a radiant smile. "Pleased to meet you... Liam." "Put your suitcase in the back and buckle up, I'm taking you to my place! Well... our place from today!" The drive wasn't very long, and Liam visibly tried to ease the atmosphere by asking him a few questions, fully aware that this life change must be very emotional for the young boy. They finally stopped in front of a large modern house, surrounded by a high gate. "Do you have someone to see in there?" Arthur ventured, troubled by their stop. "This is where I live! Don't you like it?" His eyes widened. How could such a young man own such a luxurious house? "Oh, yes, yes," he stammered, "it's just that..." "Come on, get out! I'll take care of your suitcase!" "Thanks..." Arthur was clearly impressed. "And... do you live here alone?" "Yes, alone in this big house... Your presence will be a change for me, you know." They entered the house. The entrance opened directly into a living room, open to the kitchen, all very spacious. Next to the kitchen was a staircase, separated by a small corridor. "Your room is upstairs," Liam indicated. "Go on up, I'll join you." Arthur took the stairs, which led to a hallway lit by a skylight. He ventured into this unknown house, observing the doors and walls, devoid of any decoration, until a detail caught his attention. A plaque was on a door, and not just any plaque. It was engraved with his name. At the moment, he wasn't sure if it was adorably cute or downright creepy. Assuming it was his room, he opened the door in front of him. The light turned on automatically, and he discovered a classic teen's bedroom—although a bit childish—but extremely modern. A slightly elevated white bed, shelves with small screens, another screen on the desk, and another on the wall... Arthur's eyes were full of wonder. Having been used to the rustic life in his foster family for almost 15 years, the idea of living here left him speechless. Only the wardrobe next to the window intrigued him. The childish patterns on it contrasted with the rest of the furniture. He approached it when a voice surprised him from behind.

No dimensions, universes, giantesses, fairies or diapered dragons or whatever - just the fap you are looking for. Future chapters will follow in the coming days. CHAPTER 1 The pink cotton clung to Lana’s hips as she paused outside Jacob’s door, her knuckles hovering just shy of the wood. The hallway smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and something else—something damp. She exhaled through her nose before rapping her fingers against the doorframe. "Jacob? You awake?" Inside, the room was a disaster zone of crumpled sweatpants and half-empty soda cans. Jacob sat cross-legged on his bed, phone glowing in his hands, the unopened pack of adult diapers glaring at him from the nightstand like an accusation. He didn’t look up. "Yeah." Lana stepped inside, arms crossed loosely over her chest. The nightgown swished around her knees as she nudged a stray pizza box aside with her toe. "Listen," she said, softer now. "I’m not mad. But we gotta figure this out." Her eyes flicked to the untouched diapers. "You haven't been putting your... protection on properly." Jacob’s thumb froze mid-scroll. His throat worked silently for a second before he muttered, "I got it this time, don't worry." She didn’t move. The ceiling fan clicked overhead, uneven in its rotation. Lana rubbed her temple. "Jacob," she tried again, gentler, "you didn’t ‘get it’ the last two nights." Jacob’s grip tightened around his phone, the screen dimming as his fingers dug into the case. "I said I got it," he repeated, voice cracking just enough for Lana to catch it. His knees drew up slightly, as if he could shrink away from the whole conversation. Lana exhaled through her nose, the sound barely audible over the hum of the fan. She didn’t move closer—didn’t loom—just let the silence stretch between them until it was thicker than the summer heat. Then, with deliberate calm, she walked to the bed and sat on the edge, mattress dipping under her weight. "Jacob," she said, not unkindly, "your sheets are in the washer again. Your pajama pants too." A pause. "You need diapers." His face burned. The diaper package on the nightstand might as well have been neon. "It’s—it’s just embarrassing," he muttered, finally looking up. Lana’s expression wasn’t mocking, wasn’t even impatient. Just... tired. And something else. Concern, maybe. She reached for the pack, tearing the plastic with a practicality that left no room for argument. "Kid, I changed your diapers when you were two. This isn’t new." The crinkle of the material was obscenely loud in the quiet room. Jacob flinched. "That’s different. I was a baby." Lana smoothed the fresh diaper against the mattress with a practiced hand, the crinkling sound making Jacob’s shoulders tense. "Honestly," she said, not unkindly but with a firmness that brooked no argument, "you’re acting like you’re two years old all over again. Leaving your crap everywhere, forgetting to shower, and now this?" She tapped the plastic packaging. "You drink five or six sodas before bed and then wonder why you’re peeing yourself. It’s not rocket science, Jacob." Jacob’s fingers dug into his thighs. The fan above them wobbled, casting uneven shadows across his face. "I don’t—it’s not like I’m doing it on purpose," he muttered, but even he heard the defensive whine in his voice. Lana arched a brow, unimpressed. "No? Then why haven’t you cut back on the pop? Or set an alarm to use the bathroom? Or," she gestured pointedly at the untouched diapers, "even tried to help yourself?" She sighed, rubbing her temple again. "You’re not a kid anymore, Jacob. But you’re sure acting like one." The words stung, mostly because they were true. He’d been coasting for months—letting Lana pick up his slack, letting the job applications pile up unread in his email. The wet sheets were just the latest humiliation in a long line of them. Lana softened slightly, nudging his knee with hers. "Look, I’m not trying to be a bitch about this. But you gotta meet me halfway." She held up the diaper between them, the absurdity of the situation hanging in the air like the scent of baby powder. "Tonight, we do it right. No more wet sheets. No more excuses." Jacob shot up from the bed so fast his knee knocked a soda can off the nightstand, the aluminum clattering against the hardwood. "I don’t need them!" His voice cracked halfway through the sentence, pitching higher than he intended. He swiped at the diaper in Lana’s hand, but she held it just out of reach, her expression shifting from patient to something sharper. "I’m not—I’m not a baby, Lana!" "No, you’re not," she agreed, too calm, like she was humoring a toddler mid-tantrum. She didn’t stand, just tilted her head up to look at him, the ceiling fan casting jagged shadows across her face. "But, again, you really are acting like one. Throwing a fit over something that’ll literally solve the problem you won’t fix yourself." Jacob’s hands curled into fists. "It’s embarrassing!" Lana’s laugh was short, humorless. "You think I enjoy this? Washing your piss-soaked sheets at two in the morning?" She stood then, slow, deliberate, the diaper dangling from her fingers. "You want embarrassing? Try explaining to Amanda whose son is pretty much out of diapers while you're going back into them." The words hit like a slap. Jacob’s throat tightened. He opened his mouth—to argue, to snap back—but nothing came out. Because she wasn’t wrong. He’d seen the way their neighbor had given him an all-knowing smile the other day. Lana watched Jacob's shoulders slump, the fight draining out of him like air from a punctured balloon. His fists unclenched, fingers trembling slightly before he wiped them on his pajama pants—the same pair she'd washed twice this week. She stepped closer, not crowding him, but close enough that he couldn't avoid the crinkling sound of the diaper in her hand. "Sit," she said, nodding toward the bed. Not a request. Jacob hesitated, then sank onto the mattress, the springs creaking under his weight. He kept his eyes fixed on the soda stain on the carpet, a dark blotch shaped like a half-dried puddle. Lana sat beside him, close enough that their thighs almost touched. The diaper lay between them, an unspoken punctuation mark to the conversation. "Look at me," she said, softer now. When he didn’t move, she hooked a finger under his chin and tilted his face up. His cheeks were flushed, eyes bright with something between shame and stubbornness. "This isn’t about humiliation. It’s about fixing a problem." She tapped the diaper against his knee. "You wanna act like a kid? Fine. But kids follow rules. And tonight, the rule is you’re wearing this." Jacob swallowed hard. "What if—what if I just don’t drink anything after dinner?" Lana snorted. "You said that last night. Then I found you in the kitchen at midnight chugging Mountain Dew straight from the bottle." She shook her head, the ghost of a smile tugging at her lips. "Face it, kid. You’ve got the self-control of a puppy in a treat factory." Jacob flopped onto his back with all the dramatic flourish of a teenager who'd just been told to clean his room. Arms splayed out, legs stiff, he stared at the ceiling like it held the secrets of the universe. "There. Happy?" His voice dripped with petulance, but his fingers curled into the sheets, knuckles whitening. He hadn't even unbuttoned his pajama pants—just lay there in silent protest, a human-shaped lump of defiance. Lana let out a slow breath through her nose, the kind reserved for mothers standing in grocery store checkout lines with screaming toddlers. Without a word, she grabbed the hem of his wrinkled t-shirt—the one with the faded band logo he'd probably outgrown in tenth grade—and yanked it up over his head in one smooth motion. Jacob barely had time to squawk before the fabric muffled his outrage, arms flailing as she peeled it off him like a banana skin. "Hey—!" "Uh-huh," Lana said, tossing the shirt onto the growing pile of laundry in the corner. Her fingers hooked into the waistband of his pajama pants next, not bothering with the drawstring. Jacob's yelp was higher-pitched this time as she tugged them down past his hips in one decisive motion, leaving him in just his boxers—and the unmistakable outline of yesterday's poor life choices pressing against the thin cotton. He scrambled to cover himself, face burning. "Jesus, Lana—!" She ignored him, snapping the diaper open with a practiced flick of her wrists. The crinkling sound seemed absurdly loud in the quiet room. "You wanna act like a toddler? Fine. But toddlers don’t get modesty privileges." Her tone was matter-of-fact, the same one she'd used when teaching him to tie his shoes at age six. "Lift your hips." Jacob's breath hitched as Lana's fingers slid under his hips, the sudden pressure lifting him just enough for the diaper to whisper against the sheets beneath him. The crinkling plastic sounded obscenely loud—like walking on fresh snow in the dead of night—and he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to disappear. Cool air hit his thighs as she tugged his boxers down, the elastic snapping against his skin in a final, humiliating protest. Lana worked with the brisk efficiency of someone who'd done this a thousand times before. One hand pressed flat against his stomach to keep him still while the other guided the diaper into place, her fingers brushing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs as she adjusted the gathers. Jacob bit his lip hard enough to taste copper, his whole body rigid with the effort not to squirm. The padding was shockingly thick between his legs, the material puffing up around his hips in a way that made his stomach twist. Lana barely glanced at the stiff flush of pink between Jacob’s thighs as she dusted baby powder over the diaper’s lining with the precision of someone seasoning a steak. The powder puffed up in little clouds, settling into the creases with a clinical efficiency that made Jacob’s toes curl against the sheets. He jerked when her thumb grazed his hipbone to smooth out a wrinkle, but she didn’t pause—just tugged the front flap up between his legs with a brisk pat that left his face burning hotter than the embarrassment pooling in his gut. The tapes made a tearing sound as she secured them, one after another, snug but not tight enough to pinch. Jacob’s breath came shallow through his nose, his fingers clutching at the comforter like it might swallow him whole. Lana leaned back to survey her handiwork, the diaper crinkling obscenely as he shifted—a sound that would’ve been comical if it weren’t so mortifying. "There," she said, dusting her hands off on her nightgown. "Now was that so hard?" Jacob’s laugh was brittle. He didn’t trust his voice not to crack if he spoke, so he just stared at the ceiling fan’s wobbly rotation instead, counting the clicks between each uneven spin. The padding pressed against him in a way that was impossible to ignore, thick and foreign and somehow already warm from his body heat. Lana stood, the mattress springing back as her weight left it. She paused at the door, one hand on the knob. "Lights out in ten," she said, like this was any other night. Like she hadn’t just diapered him like an infant. "And no soda. Maybe have a glass of water, but not too close to bedtime." The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Jacob alone with the hum of the fan and the crinkle of plastic every time he so much as twitched. He waited until her footsteps faded down the hall before sitting up, the diaper rustling like a bag of chips under his weight. The mirror across the room reflected a version of himself he barely recognized—hair mussed, shoulders hunched, wearing nothing but a diaper. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until colors bloomed behind his lids. The half-empty soda can on the ground needed to be cleaned up and Jacob lazily wiped the spill with an old pair of boxers, picking up the aluminum still cold from condensation. He hadn’t even realized he’d brought it to his lips—just habit, muscle memory, his fingers curling around the damp can while Lana’s footsteps faded down the hall. The first few gulps had been defiant, almost satisfying in their pettiness. By the time he’d drained it, though, the sugar sat heavy in his stomach, a sluggish counterpoint to the frantic drumbeat of his pulse. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, ignoring the crinkle between his legs as he shifted on the bed. The diaper hugged his crotch, the padding pressing insistently against his skin in a way that made his throat tight. A drop of condensation rolled off the can and onto his thigh, startlingly cold compared to the humid room. Jacob flicked it away with more force than necessary, watching it splatter against the wall like a tiny rebellion. Down the hall, the shower turned on—Lana’s nightly ritual, the pipes groaning as water hit the tiles. Jacob stared at the closed door, half-expecting her to burst back in and confiscate the empty can like some kind of contraband. But the only sound was the steady rush of water and the occasional creak of the house settling. He exhaled, slow and shaky, and reached for his phone just to have something to do with his hands. The screen lit up and opened up Instagram, first seeing a status update from Amanda next door—a blurry photo of Tommy grinning in his tiny dinosaur pajamas, captioned *Big boy pants all night!* Jacob’s thumb hovered over the heart react before he swiped the message away, his stomach twisting. The diaper rustled again as he slumped against the headboard, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet room. He should’ve felt relieved. The logical part of his brain knew Lana was right—knew the diapers were a practical solution, at least until he got his shit together. But logic couldn’t untangle the hot knot of humiliation lodged behind his ribs, the way his breath hitched every time the plastic shifted against his thighs. He grabbed a pillow and hugged it to his chest, as if that could somehow muffle the crinkling. The pillow pressed against Jacob’s hips in a way that made the padding shift, the crinkling sound suddenly muffled. He froze, half-expecting Lana to barge back in at the noise—but the shower was still running down the hall, the pipes whining like they always did when the water got too hot. He exhaled shakily and experimentally rocked forward again, just a tiny movement. The diaper’s inner lining brushed against him, softer than he’d expected, and his breath caught. He shouldn’t. He *really* shouldn’t. But the tension in his gut was unbearable, and the more he tried not to think about the way the material rubbed with every slight shift, the more his body seemed to betray him. Jacob clenched his teeth and ground his hips down harder into the pillow, the pressure just *there*, teasing in a way that made his toes curl. A strangled noise escaped his throat—part frustration, part something else entirely—and he buried his face in the pillow to smother it. The diaper held him snugly, the padding somehow both restrictive and yielding as he rocked into it. Every movement sent a jolt of heat through him, the friction just shy of too much. He bit his lip hard enough to sting, his fingers digging into the pillowcase as he chased the sensation, hips stuttering forward in shallow thrusts. The crinkling sounded obscenely loud to his own ears, but the water was still running, Lana none the wiser— Then the shower cut off abruptly. Jacob froze, heart hammering against his ribs. The pipes groaned as the water stopped, and he could practically *feel* Lana stepping out, towel wrapping around her, droplets hitting the bath mat. He pictured Lana, naked with water droplets slipping down her curves... Jacob's breath hitched as the diaper crinkled beneath him, the sound suddenly deafening in the silence after the shower shut off. His hips stuttered forward once, twice—then his whole body locked up as heat flooded through him in a dizzying rush. The padding absorbed it without a sound, the warmth spreading in a way that should've been mortifying but instead left him panting against the pillow, fingers twisted in the sheets. For a heartbeat, there was nothing but the aftershocks thrumming through him and the horrifying realization of what he'd just done. Then the shame crashed down like a bucket of ice water. Jacob's face burned as he peeled himself away from the pillow, the diaper sticking uncomfortably to his thighs. He could feel the wetness cooling against his skin, the padding swollen and heavy between his legs. *Oh god.* He'd just—in a *diaper*. Like some kind of freak. His stomach twisted violently, and for a second he thought he might actually throw up. Down the hall, the bathroom door creaked open. Jacob's pulse spiked as he scrambled to pull the covers up over himself, the sheets rustling loudly. The diaper squished under his weight as he shifted, making his ears burn hotter. He grabbed his phone with trembling hands, pretending to scroll through something—anything—as Lana's footsteps padded closer. Her shadow darkened the crack under the door for a long moment before she knocked softly. "Jacob? You still awake?" He swallowed hard, throat clicking. "Yeah," he managed, voice strangled. The word came out too high, too tight. He cleared his throat, eyes fixed on the screen like it held the meaning of life. "Just—uh. Just on my phone." The doorknob turned with a slow, deliberate creak that made Jacob's spine stiffen. Lana's silhouette filled the doorway, backlit by the hall light, her damp hair clinging to the collar of her robe. She didn't step in immediately—just hovered there, one hand still on the knob, the scent of lavender body wash drifting in with her. "You're still up," she observed, not quite a question. Her eyes flicked to the crumpled blankets pooled around his waist, then to the phone clenched in his white-knuckled grip. Jacob willed his breathing to steady, but the diaper between his legs felt like a beacon pulsing under the sheets. Lana tilted her head, the robe's belt swaying as she took a step forward. "You okay? You're breathing like you just ran a mile." Jacob's thumb jerked across the screen, opening and closing apps at random. "Fine. Just—reading." Lana hummed, unconvinced. She crossed the room in three strides, the hem of her robe brushing against the discarded soda can. It rolled with a hollow clatter that made Jacob flinch. Her fingers closed around the edge of the comforter before he could react. "Let me check your diaper." "No—Lana, wait!" Jacob's hand shot out to grab her wrist, fingers digging into the soft skin above her pulse point. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud enough he was sure she could hear it. The diaper clung damply between his thighs, still warm from—*god*, from what he'd just done. If she pulled back the covers now, saw the mess he'd made... Lana didn't pause. Her fingers tightened on the comforter, and with one sharp tug, she yanked it down to his knees. Cold air hit Jacob's bare chest as he scrambled to cover himself, but Lana was already reaching for the waistband of the diaper, her nails skimming the sweat-damp skin of his hip. Jacob's breath seized in his throat. *She's going to see. She's going to know.* He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the disgusted gasp, the horrified recoil— "What the hell, Jacob?" Lana's voice cut through the panic, sharp with exasperation. Her thumb hooked under the elastic, peeling the diaper away from his skin with a wet sound that made his stomach flip. "It's barely been twenty minutes and you *already* wet yourself?" Jacob's eyes flew open. Lana was frowning down at the swollen padding, her nose wrinkled at the sharp tang of baby powder mixed with—*oh god*—the scent of his own release. But her expression wasn't disgust. Just frustration. Like he'd spilled juice on the couch again. Lana pinched the sodden padding between her fingers, lifting the diaper away from Jacob's hips with a disgusted flick of her wrist. The tapes tore free with a sound like Velcro ripping apart, the wet material sagging obscenely between them. "Jesus Christ, Jacob," she hissed, shaking the slightly damp garment like she might shake sense into him. "I *just* put this on you. Did you even *try* to hold it?" Jacob's mouth worked soundlessly, his throat clicking as he struggled to form words. The truth—the *real* truth—burned behind his teeth, acidic and unspeakable. He couldn't tell her. Couldn't even *think* it without wanting to crawl out of his own skin. Instead, he pressed his thighs together tighter, the cooling wetness between them making his stomach churn. "You're eighteen years old," she said, each word precise as a scalpel. "You probably drank a can of soda in secret like a kid stealing cookies, then let a little trickle out like an infant who doesn't know better." She grabbed a fresh diaper from the package with more force than necessary, the plastic crinkling like a threat. "I’m not taking any risks of you leaking, so roll over NOW." Jacob's breath hitched. "I—I don’t need a—" "*Now*, Jacob." Lana's voice brooked no argument, her fingers already tugging at his hips. The mattress dipped as she leaned over him, her damp hair brushing his chest as she maneuvered him onto his back. The new diaper unfolded with a crisp snap, the scent of baby powder puffing up in a cloud as she dusted the lining. Jacob's pulse hammered in his throat as Lana's fingers worked the tapes loose. The diaper sagged between his legs, still warm—not with urine, but with something far worse. His stomach twisted as the flaps peeled back, the sticky truth exposed to the overhead light. *She'll smell it,* he thought, panicked. *She'll know.* Lana paused, her nose wrinkling. Jacob braced for the recoil, the gasp, the horrified realization—but she only sighed, tossing the soiled diaper toward the trash can with a practiced flick of her wrist. "Honestly, Jacob," she muttered, reaching for the baby powder. "You'd think at your age you'd assume to use the toilet instead of lazily piddle in your nighttime diaper." His breath stalled. She hadn't noticed. The scent of his shame had blended seamlessly with the powder, the evidence hidden in plain sight. Relief flooded him—hot, nauseating relief—just as Lana tugged his hips up with one firm hand. The fresh diaper crinkled beneath him, absurdly white against his flushed skin. She dusted the lining with mechanical precision, her fingers brushing the sensitive skin of his inner thighs as she smoothed out the gathers. Jacob bit his lip hard enough to taste copper, his entire body rigid. Every accidental touch sent electric jolts through him—half-terror, half something unnameable. Lana snapped the second diaper's tapes shut with more force than necessary, the plastic crinkling like a threat under Jacob's hips. She sat back on her heels, surveying her handiwork with a sigh that carried the weight of a hundred unwashed sheets. "My goodness, Jacob," she muttered, shaking her head. Her damp hair clung to the collar of her robe, the scent of lavender body wash clashing with the sharp tang of baby powder. "What am I gonna do with you?" Jacob stared at the ceiling, his fingers digging into the mattress. The new diaper pressed against him, stiff and pristine—a stark contrast to the humiliation pooling hot in his gut. Lana's thumb brushed his hipbone as she adjusted the waistband, her touch clinical, impersonal. Like he was six again, squirming on the changing table. "Maybe I need to treat you like a little baby," she mused, more to herself than to him. Her fingers tapped against his thigh—once, twice—a slow rhythm that made his breath hitch. "Early bedtime. No soda. Bottles instead of pop cans?" A humorless chuckle escaped her as she stood, the robe's belt swaying. "Hell, maybe I should get you a pacifier." Jacob's face burned. The words should've been ridiculous, laughable. But the way Lana said them— Lana straightened up, her damp robe whispering against the mattress as she dusted baby powder off her palms. The scent clung to her fingers—sweet, cloying, unmistakable. Jacob watched her throat move as she swallowed, the tendon flexing like she was biting back words. "Alright," she said finally, folding her arms across her chest. The motion made her robe gape slightly, revealing a sliver of damp collarbone. "Here's how tonight's gonna go." She tapped one bare foot against the floorboards, the rhythm deliberate. "You're gonna use the potty like a big boy before lights out." Her lips quirked at the phrasing—half-mocking, half-serious. "And when I check that diaper in the morning?" She leaned in, close enough that Jacob could see the faint smudge of mascara under her lashes. "It better be dry. Or else." Jacob's fingers twitched against the sheets. "Or else what?" Lana's smile curled slow and dangerous, like a cat spotting a cornered mouse. "Or else," she said, tapping his diapered hip with one manicured nail, "we're taking a field trip next door. Amanda's been *so* successful with Tommy's potty training lately." The crinkle of plastic underscored her words as Jacob stiffened beneath her touch. "Maybe she’ll have some tips for you." Jacob’s stomach dropped. Amanda—with her knowing smiles and perfectly manicured lawn—who'd waved at him just yesterday while Tommy proudly showed off his dinosaur undies. "You wouldn’t," he whispered, horrified. Lana plucked at the diaper’s waistband, letting it snap back against his skin with a sound that made him flinch. "Try me." She straightened, the robe’s belt swinging as she turned toward the door. "Pajamas are in the dryer. Put them on before you catch a chill." The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Jacob alone with the echo of her threat and the hum of the ceiling fan

Hey everyone! I'm cross posting this from reddit r/ABDL. One of my earliest ABDL fantasies was to be forced or tricked (by a bet or something else) into wearing adult diapers under my clothes in some public or outdoor place like a mall. Then, someone would steal my shorts, leaving me with an exposed (and maybe used) diaper. I have no idea why this kind of exhibitionism/humiliation is appealing to me, but it has always been my "white whale" of life experiences. But, as most all of the reasonable people here know, to actually carry out such an endeavor myself would be inconsiderate to others, damaging to my reputation, and in many places illegal. I can always daydream that my girlfriend will do this to me someday beyond my control or planning, but that's not very likely. It seems to me, based on the many forum posts and stories I've read, that this type of forced diaper humiliation or exposure fantasy is pretty common in the ABDL/DDLG/BDSM communities. Thus, I would love to find a good way to experience some semblance of unavoidable diaper humiliation/exposure WITHOUT forcing the fetish on random bystanders, and preferably without having my professional/personal reputation effected. Is there a safe/smart/non-creepy/legal way to experience this? If not, what are your favorite alternatives?

Welcome to "Winter Break on Wet Alert" – A Ski Trip with No Emergency Brake A ski holiday in St. Anton with the family's best friends should be a dream come true. Especially when you are 17, finally allowed to drink wine with the adults, and the girl you've been in love with since kindergarten is sleeping in the loft right next to you. It is the recipe for the perfect "coming-of-age" romance. But for Liam, it is the recipe for a social nightmare. He is fighting a secret that doesn't fit into the cool after-ski lifestyle: A body that fails him, and a bladder that lives a life of its own at night. What starts as a practical challenge involving discreet night diapers hidden in a gym bag, quickly spirals into an avalanche of control, lies, and humiliating revelations as the facade begins to crack. This is more than a story about an accident, I try to make it a "slow-burn" psychological thriller about power, helplessness, and the desperate struggle to maintain one's dignity while slowly being wrapped in cotton wool – and plastic. Meet the Families: Liam (17): The protagonist of the story. He is a typical teenager attempting to navigate the awkwardness of a family vacation while trying to appear independent and cool. He often hides inside his hoodie or behind a beanie and is currently balancing the tension of sharing a cabin with Mathilde, whom he has known since childhood and has secretly had a crush on since he was twelve. Sophie (17): The childhood friend Liam has secretly been in love with since he was twelve. She has grown from a playmate into a stunning young woman with messy blonde hair, often seen wearing oversized wool sweaters that make her look effortlessly cool. She shares the open loft space with Liam, sleeping on the mattress just a few feet away. Grace: Liam’s mother. She runs the family—and the vacation packing—with efficiency and a calm, controlled voice that leaves very little room for discussion. She is organized, persistent, and keeps a sharp eye on the logistics of the trip to ensure everything goes according to plan. James: Liam’s father. He is a somewhat conflict-avoidant man who prefers focusing on the skiing conditions or staring into his coffee cup rather than dealing with tension. He generally steps back and leaves the hard decisions and organization to Hanne. Claire: Sophie’s mother. She is practical, cheerful, and deeply involved in the domestic side of the cabin life, often found stirring a pot of stew or knitting in the sofa corner with Hanne. She has a direct, practical manner and treats all the "kids" with equal familiarity. Rob: Sophie’s father and the loud, wine-loving patriarch of the host family. He dominates the room with boisterous laughter and "alpha" energy, often walking around in boxers and a t-shirt in the mornings. He treats Liam with a mix of loud camaraderie and fatherly teasing. The Format: The story is planned as a long serial of approximately 50-60 chapters. Although the plot only spans a single, intense week in Austria, we get up close and personal. Every chapter dives deep into the details, the dialogue, and the small, claustrophobic moments where the balance of power tips. Expect a pace that allows room for both the romantic tension and the creeping horror of losing control over your own life. Sit back, put on a dry diaper (just for safety's sake), and enjoy the ride down the black slope. Prologue is coming up... __________________________________ Prologue: War Council at the Dining Table The sound of a zip being pulled up cut through the silence in the living room like a tear in the fabric. It was a sharp, metallic sound signalling an end, but for Liam, it sounded like the beginning of the end. The large black Nike holdall stood open on the dining table. Surrounding it were piles of wool jumpers, ski socks, and thermal long johns in neat stacks. But it wasn’t the clothes that caught the eye. It was the package lying isolated next to the bag. A square, soft package in dark blue plastic with the words DryNites printed across the front and a picture of a cartoon skater boy who looked far too cool to represent the contents. "We have to be realistic, Liam," said Grace. Her voice was calm, controlled—the voice she used when presenting unpleasant facts that were not up for discussion. She stood at the end of the table with her arms crossed, her gaze resting heavily on the package. "We can’t take the waterproof sheet. It’s out of the question." Liam sat on the chair opposite. He rocked on the back legs, a nervous tic he couldn’t stop. He had his hoodie pulled up around his ears, as if he could hide inside the fabric. "Why not?" he asked, hating how whiny his voice sounded. "That’s what we use at home. It works fine. I put it under the sheet, no one sees it." "At home, you sleep in your owace, taking a step forward. She placed her hand on the blue package. "We’ve been through this for four months now. Four months where the bed has been wet four out of seven days on average. You know the doctor said your body must be 'overloaded' and that you sleep so deeply the signal doesn’t get through. That’s fine. It’s a physiological condition. But we can’t ignore the statistics." She paused, and her gaze softened but became more insistent. "What is the scenario if we don’t take anything? What happens if you fall asleep after a long day of skiing, exhausted, maybe after a glass of wine, and then you wake up at three in the morning and the mattress is soaked? Right next to Sophie? What do you do then? Do you wake her? Do you carry the mattress down through the living room? How do you explain the smell in that small space?" Liam closed his eyes. The image was so clear and terrifying it made him nauseous. He saw Sophie waking up from the heat or the smell. He saw her face. "I’ll wake up," he said stubbornly, but without conviction. "I’ll set an alarm on my phone. Every three hours." "And wake up the whole chalet?" James shook his head. "That won’t work, Liam. Rob wakes up if a mouse farts in the basement. If your alarm goes off three times a night, it’ll be a holiday in hell for everyone." "Therefore," said Grace, sliding the package of DryNites across the tabletop towards him. "This is the only solution. It’s discreet. They’re silent under pyjamas. And they guarantee that the mattress—and your dignity—survives if an accident happens." Liam looked at the package as if it were radioactive. "I can’t wear them, Mum," he whispered. "Not up there. She’s lying right next to me. Imagine if she sees them? They’re... they’re night pants for kids, it’s a fucking diaper!" "It’s protection for young men who have a temporary problem," Grace corrected. "And we’ve practised this. We pack them. Right at the bottom of the bag. You put it on under the duvet when the lights are out. Or in the bathroom, if you can sneak out there. I really want to help you, you know? It requires planning, I know that. But the alternative is Russian roulette with a full bladder." Liam felt a familiar anger bubbling in his stomach. Anger at his own body. It had started in the autumn. First just once after a party. Then again. And suddenly it had become a thing. A secret that required washing machines running at night and strange, clinical conversations with a doctor who just talked about "immature nervous systems" and "deep REM sleep". They had tried fluid restrictions after 6 PM. They had tried voiding schedules. Nothing helped once he was asleep. And now this defective body had to go on holiday with the girl he had been in love with since they were in kindergarten. "I’ll take them," he said quietly, grabbing the package. He squeezed it hard, making the plastic yield. "But I’ll only put them on if I feel it’s absolutely necessary. If I’ve had a lot to drink. Or if I’m really tired." Grace and James exchanged a look. One of those parental looks that communicate volumes of worry in a split second. "Liam," said Grace gently. "The deal is that you wear them every night. We can’t take the chance with someone else’s mattress." "I said I’ll take them!" Liam snapped, standing up so quickly the chair scraped against the floor. "I’m packing them. Right at the bottom. I’ll hide them in a towel so no one can see what they are. Is that not enough?" Grace hesitated. She assessed him. She could see the desperation in his eyes. She knew that if she pushed him any further now, he might refuse to go. "Fine," she said slowly. "You pack them. Well hidden. But then you promise me one thing: If you feel the slightest uncertainty... if you are in the slightest doubt... then you use them. for my sake. For your dad’s sake. We don’t want to be explaining to Rob and Claire why their chalet smells of pee." "I’ve got it under control," Liam lied. He took the package. He walked over to the bag. He lifted the stack of hoodies. He placed the blue package right at the bottom, into the corner. He found a dark towel and wrapped it tightly around it so it looked like a washbag or a pair of shoes. Then he put the wool jumpers on top. The salopettes. The thermal underwear. Layer upon layer of normality burying the shame. He zipped up the bag. The sound was final this time. "There," he said, lifting the bag. It was heavy. Heavier than it should be. "Now we’re ready." James cleared his throat and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder. "It’ll be a good trip, lad. You’ll see, the fresh air will do you good. Maybe the problem will disappear on its own up there." Liam nodded stiffly. He knew better. The problem wouldn’t disappear. It was packed at the bottom of his bag, and it would travel with him all the way to Austria, like a ticking time bomb under the seat. "I’m going to bed," he said. He walked out of the living room without looking back. Grace remained standing by the table, staring at the spot where the bag had stood. "Do you think he’ll wear them when we get there?" asked James quietly. "No," said Grace, turning off the light over the dining table. "Or well, I don’t know... He’s so proud. So I think I’ll have to check every morning while we’re there, and then we just have to hope he soon puts a cork in that night bladder." Chapter 1: The Winter Palace The car's tyres crunched heavily against the packed snow as they rolled the final stretch up the steep driveway. The engine was cut, and a sudden, deafening silence settled over the cabin. It was that particular, muffled tranquillity found only in the Austrian Alps, where the snow swallows every sound. Liam sat in the back seat, leaning his forehead against the cold glass. Outside, the world was bathed in the blue-violet light of twilight. The chalet ahead of them wasn’t just a cabin; it was a massive two-storey log structure with large panoramic windows, where yellow light was already spilling out, landing in soft squares on the snow. The Thompson family had already arrived. Their black Audi was parked next to them, and smoke rose lazily from the chimney. "Here we are, chaps," said his dad, James, tapping the steering wheel with a gloved hand. "St. Anton. The adventure begins." Liam felt a lurch in his stomach. It was a mixture of expectant joy and that underlying, cold knot he had carried around the entire journey. He adjusted his beanie in the rear-view mirror, checked that the stubble on his chin looked right, and took a deep breath. You are here to ski. You are here to have a good time. You are 17 years old. Relax. He opened the car door, and the freezing mountain air hit him in the face like a wet towel. It smelled of pine needles and frost. He stepped out and stretched his legs while the cold nipped at his cheeks. "Liam, are you grabbing your own bag?" shouted his mum, Grace, from the boot. She was already organising the unpacking with the military efficiency she was known for. "And mind your back, it looks heavy." Liam walked round to the boot. His large, black Nike holdall was wedged in behind crates of food supplies. He gripped the handle and hoisted it out. It was heavy. Not just because of the ski boots and thick jumpers, but because of what lay right at the bottom, wrapped in an opaque bag and rolled tightly inside a towel. His secret cargo. His safety net. He swung the bag over his shoulder and straightened his back. As long as the bag was zipped shut, he was just Liam. The door to the chalet opened, and the sound of voices and laughter streamed out into the cold. "Is that the lost travellers?" Sophie stood in the doorway. Liam's heart skipped a beat, as it always did when he saw her. She had grown even more beautiful since the summer holidays. She was wearing a large, white wool jumper that made her look small and cosy, paired with tight black leggings. Her blonde hair was gathered in a messy bun, and she held a wine glass in her hand—probably just elderflower cordial, but the way she held it made it look elegant. "Hey Sophie," Liam said, flashing his best, crooked smile as he walked up the steps to the veranda. He tried to walk casually, even though the strap dug into his shoulder. "We just took the scenic route. You have to enjoy the view, right?" Sophie rolled her eyes but smiled broadly. "Classic James tactics. Come inside, it’s freezing." She stepped aside, and Liam walked into the warmth. The chalet smelled of woodsmoke and red wine sauce. The adults were already in full swing, hugging and exchanging stories about the drive in the hallway. It was chaos in a good way. Boots were kicked off, coats hung up. Liam and Sophie stood a little on the outskirts of the commotion. "So," Sophie said, sizing him up. Her gaze was direct, curious. "Are you ready to be left in the dust tomorrow? I’ve heard the pistes are absolutely perfect this year." "Left in the dust?" Liam laughed huskily. "You’ll be lucky if you see anything other than the spray from my skis when I fly past you." "We’ll see," she said, nudging his shoulder lightly. The touch burned through his jacket. "But seriously, it’s going to be brilliant. The oldies have taken the rooms on the ground floor, so we have the entire top floor to ourselves. Or, well, the loft." "The loft?" Liam repeated. "Yeah, come on. I’ll show you." She turned and started walking up the steep wooden staircase leading to the upper floor. Liam followed, bag still over his shoulder. He didn't dare put it down yet. Not until he knew where he was sleeping. Not until he had secured the territory. The loft had a low ceiling and was incredibly cosy. Sloping walls of light timber, a small round window in the gable looking out over the valley, and thick rugs on the floor. But what caught Liam's attention were the sleeping arrangements. There were two wide mattresses on the floor. They lay at opposite ends of the room, separated by a small communal area with a low sofa and a table, but there were no doors. No walls. It was one large room. "I’ve taken the one by the window," Sophie said, hopping onto one of the mattresses, which was already made up with a duvet and pillows. Her bag stood open next to it, with clothes strewn about a bit. "So you can have the den over there." She pointed towards the mattress at the opposite end, nestled under the lowest part of the sloping roof. It was a cosy nook, but it also felt... exposed. "Fine," said Liam. He walked over to his mattress and set the bag down. He did it carefully, terrified that something might clink or rattle, even though there were only soft parcels inside. "It looks... cosy." "Doesn't it?" Sophie leaned back on her elbows and looked at him. "No parents. No big sisters. Just us." Liam nodded and started taking off his jacket. He could feel sweat trickling down his back. The heat from the wood-burning stove downstairs was rising to the ceiling. "Are you planning on standing there sweating in full gear, or are you going to unpack?" she asked teasingly. Liam hesitated. He looked at his bag. The zip was closed. He knew exactly where the package was. At the bottom. Under three hoodies and his thermal long johns. If he opened the bag now, while she lay there watching, would she be able to see it? No, it was wrapped up. But just the thought of moving things around while she observed him made his stomach turn. On the other hand, it would seem odd if he didn't unpack. They were staying here for a week. "I’ll unpack later," he said, sitting on the edge of the mattress. "Right now, I just need to sit down. The drive was long." "Fair enough." Sophie stood up and walked over to the small window. "Come and have a look. You can see the lights from the après-ski bars over there." Liam stood up and walked over to her. They stood side by side, looking out into the darkness where the floodlit pistes glowed like golden scars on the mountainside. He could smell her perfume—vanilla and something fresh. She stood close to him. So close that their arms almost touched. "It’s going to be a good week, Liam," she said softly, without looking at him. "Yeah," he replied, daring to relax his shoulders a tiny bit for the first time. "It really is." From downstairs came the sound of laughter and clinking glasses. His mother’s voice cut through. "Liam! Sophie! There’s hot chocolate and scones if you’re hungry!" Sophie sighed theatrically but smiled. "Duty calls. Shall we go down and be social before they think we’re up to no good?" Liam smiled back. For a moment, everything felt normal. He was just a guy on a ski holiday with a cute girl. The bag lay on the bed behind him, zipped and safe. "After you," he said. Chapter 2: Adults in the Snow The smell of slow-cooked stew had spread throughout the chalet, mingling with the dry heat from the wood-burning stove. It was a heavy, spiced scent of beef, red wine, and juniper berries that Sophie’s mum, Claire, had left simmering in a pot for most of the afternoon before they arrived. Liam sat at the end of the long plank table. He had been given the seat next to Sophie. On the other side sat his dad, James, who was already flushed in the cheeks after two glasses of Amarone and the heat from the fire. "Cheers to the chalet!" James exclaimed, raising his glass. "And cheers to getting the roof box on without scratching the paintwork this year!" A cheerful laugh went around the table. Liam grabbed his own glass. There was red wine in it. It was one of those unspoken transitions; on previous holidays, he and Sophie had been given Coke while the adults drank wine. This year, they had just been poured a glass without question. A silent rite of passage. He was one of them now. He clinked glasses with Sophie. The glass made a clear, singing sound. "Cheers," she said, smiling over the rim of her glass. Her eyes caught the light from the candles on the table. "Do you think you can handle it? Amarone is heavy fuel for tomorrow." "I run better on premium unleaded," Liam replied cheekily and took a sip. The wine was heavy, warm, and slightly astringent in his mouth. He didn't actually like red wine all that much, but he loved the feeling of sitting here, glass in hand, being part of this. He took another sip, a slightly larger one this time. In the back of his mind, right at the back of his lizard brain, a small red warning light blinked. Fluid. Alcohol. Bedtime. He knew the rules. He knew he should be drinking water, and preferably stop drinking altogether now; it was past eight o'clock. But he couldn't sit here sipping tap water while Sophie teased him and the adults told tall tales. It would be checking out. It would be being a child. "Liam, pass the potatoes, would you?" asked Grace. Liam shook the thoughts away and passed the dish. His mum sat opposite him. She ate calmly, listening to Claire’s story about a colleague who had had a breakdown from stress, nodding sympathetically. She seemed completely normal. Not like a guard, not like an "inspector". Just a mum on holiday. But then he caught her eye as she took the dish. It was fleeting. She looked at his wine glass, then at him, and then back at her plate. She said nothing. She didn't raise an eyebrow. But Liam heard it anyway. Is that wise, Liam? He felt an urge to put the glass down, but defiance flared up in him. He wouldn't be controlled by her gaze. He wouldn't be the patient at this table. He demonstratively took a large bite of the meat and smiled at Sophie. "So, Sophie," said Rob, Sophie’s dad, leaning back. "Have you told Liam about your big plan?" Sophie blushed slightly—a becoming colour on her pale cheeks. "Dad, stop it." "What plan?" asked Liam curiously. "She wants to do a season next year," Rob rumbled proudly. "Austria. The whole winter. She’s been saving up for two years." Liam looked at her with new respect. "Seriously? That’s... actually pretty cool." "It’s just an idea," she said quickly, but he could see the glint in her eyes. "I thought... well, if I don’t know what I want to do after sixth form anyway, I might as well ski and make some money doing it." "Sounds like the dream," said Liam. And he meant it. But at the same time, a cold, heavy realisation hit him right in the solar plexus. A whole season in Austria? Sleeping in dorms, sharing rooms with strangers, drinking beer every night, no privacy? For Sophie, it was a dream. For him, it would be a logistical hell. An impossibility. He suddenly felt like a fraud. He sat here looking like someone who could go with her. Someone who fit into that dream. But beneath the surface, and at the bottom of that Nike bag up in the loft, reality lay waiting. "You could come too," Sophie said suddenly, nudging him under the table with her knee. "You’re good enough on skis. We could be instructor buddies." Liam laughed, but the laughter didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, definitely. That would be sick." "It just requires being able to get up early," Grace interjected. Her voice was mild, conversational. "And being able to fend for yourself. It’s hard work, you know. No 'room service' from Mum." It was an innocent comment to everyone else. A joke about teenagers who can't do laundry. But to Liam, it was a precise, surgical reminder. You can't fend for yourself. You need me. The mood shifted as the plates were cleared, and the board game Ludo was brought out. It was a tradition. Liam and Sophie against the dads. The mums preferred to sit on the sofa with a cup of tea (and more wine) and talk. The game was intense. Liam was good at the tactical side. He and Sophie had a natural rhythm; they understood each other without words, trading glances and blocking their fathers with delightful malice. "You’re evil, Liam!" shouted James as Liam knocked his piece home just before the finish line. "It’s called strategy, old man," Liam replied, giving Sophie a high-five. Her hand was warm and soft against his. It was nearing half-past eleven when the game finished (with a crushing victory for the youth). Fatigue began to set in within the chalet. The fire in the stove had burned down to embers. "Right, I give up," said Rob, stretching until his joints cracked. "I need to be fresh for the slopes. Night, kids. Night, darling." "Night," the group mumbled in chorus. There was that break-up atmosphere where people look for their phones and glasses need to go in the dishwasher. Liam stood up. The heat and the wine made him a little dizzy. Reality returned like a cold breath. Up in the loft, the bag still stood unopened. He hadn't set out his "safety net". He hadn't found a place to change. And Sophie was going up there. Right now. "I think I’ll head up too," said Sophie, rubbing her eyes. She looked sleepy and soft. "Are you brushing your teeth first, Liam, or shall I grab the bathroom?" Liam looked at his watch, then at the bathroom door, and then at his mum, who was busy blowing out the candles. If he let Sophie go to the bathroom first, he would be alone in the loft for maybe ten minutes. Ten minutes to open the bag, find the package, and... do what? Hide it under the pillow? Put it on? No, not up there. But if he took the bathroom first, he would have to take his things out there. What if she saw? "You just take it," he said quickly. "I just need to... I just need to find my charger in my bag first." "Cool. See you up there." She smiled, grabbed her washbag, and disappeared into the bathroom, humming. Liam was left standing in the living room. His mum blew out the last candle and turned to him. In the semi-darkness, her face was hard to read. "Liam," she said quietly. The others had gone into their rooms. They were alone. "You drank quite a lot at dinner." "It was two glasses, Mum. Relax." "And Coke," she added. "I’m just saying. You know what that means for the night. Have you got it under control? Do you want me to come up and help you get the 'bed ready' once Sophie is asleep?" The offer hung in the air. It was a lifebuoy, but it was made of lead. If he said yes, he accepted that she would creep around up there in the dark while he lay there like a child. If he said no, he was on his own with a bladder full of liquid and a bag full of secrets. "I’ll do it myself," he replied. "Okay, fair enough," said his mum, stroking his arm. "Sleep tight." Chapter 3: Under the Duvet Liam lay completely still. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but it didn't help much. The loft was a black box, broken only by the faint blue glow of the moon filtering through the small round window, tracing a square on the floor between the two mattresses. Three metres away lay Sophie. Her breathing had become heavy and regular. A faint, rhythmic sound that should have been soothing, but to Liam, it sounded like the countdown on a bomb. Every time she inhaled, he froze. Every time she exhaled, he relaxed a millimetre. He took a deep breath through his nose and gently lifted the duvet a fraction with his left hand to create a small tent. The air inside was warm and heavy with his own body heat. He grabbed the DryNites diaper that lay next to his pillow. The material felt foreign against his fingers. It was dry, papery, and thick. A sharp contrast to the soft cotton sheet. He squeezed it. It made a sound. Crr-rritch. The sound wave cut through the silence like a whip crack. Liam stiffened, his heart hammering against his ribs. He stared over at Sophie’s mattress. She stirred. An arm slid out from under her duvet, and she mumbled something unintelligible before turning onto her side. Facing him. Liam held his breath until his lungs burned. She slept on. Okay. Slowly. Ultra-slowly. He pushed the diaper down along his body, under the duvet, until it reached his hips. Now came the hardest part. The logistics. He was wearing jeans. Tight, black jeans. And because the diaper was a pull-up—a pair of "pyjama pants"—he had to have everything off from the waist down to put them on. He couldn't just pull his trousers down to his ankles; he needed his feet free. He bent his legs up under him so his knees pointed towards the ceiling and lifted the duvet. He grabbed the waistband of his jeans. The button was easy enough. The zip was the problem. He gripped the small metal tab of the zip with two fingers and began to pull it down, millimetre by millimetre. Zzz... Pause. Zzz... Pause. It felt like it took an hour. When the zip was finally down, he started wiggling his hips from side to side to shimmy the trousers down over his backside. The friction between the denim and the mattress made a dragging, whispering sound. He got the trousers down to his knees. Then to his ankles. Now he lay tangled in a knot of duvet, jeans, and his own legs. He needed to get his feet out of the trouser legs. He kicked gently with his right foot. His heel caught on the hem. He kicked again, a little harder. His foot broke free and hit the guard rail with a dull thud. "Mmm...?" The sound came from Sophie. Liam froze in an absurd position: One foot in the air, the other still trapped in his trousers, half-naked under the duvet, bathed in sweat. "Liam?" Her voice was thick with sleep, husky. "Yeah?" he whispered back. His voice cracked. "Are you okay? You’re making noise..." "Sorry," he whispered quickly. "I... I just turned over. Hit my foot. Go back to sleep." There was silence for five seconds. Five eternities. "Okay... night..." she mumbled, pulling the duvet up around her ears again. Liam lay completely still for two minutes while sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down into his eyes. He was so close to being exposed. If she turned on the light now... if she sat up to see what he was doing... He waited until her breathing became deep again. Then he finished the manoeuvre. He freed his left foot. He pushed the jeans all the way down to the foot of the bed with his toes. Then he pulled off his boxers. Now he lay naked under the duvet. Vulnerable. The warm air suddenly felt cold. He fumbled in the dark for the diaper. He found it. He opened it up, stuck his feet through the leg holes. And then he pulled up. The sensation was the worst part. The moment the soft, padded material slid up over his thighs and enclosed his groin. It was the feeling of defeat. It was the feeling of stepping out of the role of a 17-year-old guy and into the role of... something else. He pulled it all the way up over his hips. The elastic sides tightened around his waist. It sat high, much higher than his boxers. The thick, absorbent core pressed against his crotch and filled the space between his legs. It felt enormous. As if he had a cushion between his legs. He lay down again and stretched out his legs. Crinkle. Crunch. The sound came from him. From the diaper. Every time he moved his thighs against each other, the plastic outer layer made a faint, rustling sound. He lay stiff as a board. He was wearing the "armour" now. He was safe. If he wet himself in his sleep, the bed would remain dry. But the price was that he now lay next to the girl he was in love with, wearing a diaper. He rummaged around at the foot of the bed with his toes until he got hold of his boxers. He pulled them up over the diaper along with his pyjama bottoms and checked his phone before sliding it back under his pillow. He left the jeans in a pile at the bottom of the bed. He closed his eyes. Exhaustion was threatening to overpower him, but the awareness of the thick padding between his legs kept him awake. He was safe. But he wasn't free. He turned carefully onto his side, facing away from Sophie, and pulled the duvet all the way up over his ears to muffle the sound of crinkling plastic. Outside, the snow was still falling. Inside, Liam fell asleep to the sound of his own breathing and the feeling of being wrapped in secrets.

Chapter 1 The engine idled for a few seconds after the car came to a stop. Leah didn't move right away. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers pressed lightly together. She stared ahead through the windshield at the campus—wide stretches of green lawn, a large stone building rising behind it, tall windows catching the light. A flag hung almost still in the air. She lifted her hand to her hair. The braids sat tight along each side of her head. She tugged one gently. It didn't move. "They're nice," her mother said. Leah let her hand fall. She opened the door. Cool air met her immediately, brushing against her skin. She stepped out, reached into the backseat, and pulled out her bags. The weight settled into her hands. "I can come with you," her mother said, already halfway out of the car. "It's okay," Leah replied quickly. She adjusted her grip on the bags, not looking at her. "I've got it." Her mother came around anyway. "Just to get you settled—" "Mom." Leah forced a small smile. "I'll be fine." There was a pause. Then her mother stepped closer. "Wait." Before Leah could react, arms wrapped around her. Warm. Familiar. Leah stood still for a second, then lifted her hands and placed them lightly against her mother's back. "It's okay," she murmured. She pulled away a little too soon. "Call me if you need anything." "I will." Leah turned before the moment could stretch. Gravel crunched under her shoes as she walked. She didn't look back until she reached the edge of the lawn. The car was still there. Then she kept going. The campus felt bigger once she was inside it. Voices carried across the open space—laughter, fragments of conversation, footsteps crossing in different directions. Some people sat on blankets on the grass. Others stood in small groups, already settled into something she wasn't part of. Leah walked past them, eyes forward. The smell of fresh-cut grass lingered in the air, mixed with something faintly sweet she couldn't place. She adjusted the strap of her bag. A sign pointed toward registration. She followed it inside. The room was cooler. Quieter. Paper. Dust. The soft shuffle of movement. A woman sat behind a desk. "Name?" she asked, without looking up. Leah answered. The woman wrote it down slowly. Then stopped. Looked up. Her gaze lingered a second too long. "You'll fit well in Sol House," she said, as if stating something already decided. She slid a paper across the desk. "Down the path." Leah nodded. "Thank you." The woman had already looked away. The house stood slightly apart from the others. The door was half open. Leah stepped inside. Sound hit her first—voices, a TV murmuring somewhere, someone laughing from another room. She paused in the hallway. "Leah?" She looked up. A girl stood further in, relaxed, like she belonged there completely. "Yeah." "Jeanette." She said it simply. Then turned. "Come." Leah followed. The living room opened up in front of them. One girl sat curled into the sofa, smiling immediately. "Oh! You're new?" she said brightly. "Hi!" Leah smiled back. "Hi..." The name came, quick—gone just as fast. Leah nodded like she had caught it. "Nice to meet you." Another girl sat at a table nearby. Dark hair. Sharp features. She looked up slowly. "Hi." A pause. Her eyes stayed on Leah a moment longer. "Did you dress for Halloween?" A small breath of laughter left her. Then her expression went blank again. Leah felt her face warm. Jeanette's hand rested lightly against her back. "Don't worry about her," she said calmly, guiding her forward. Leah nodded. After a few steps, she glanced back. The dark-haired girl was still watching. Smiling. Wide. Leah couldn't quite place it. Friendly. Or something else. A small movement—just her little finger lifting in a faint wave. Then she looked away. Leah turned back quickly. Her fingers found one of her braids. Her room was smaller than expected. A bed. A desk. A window looking out toward trees that moved slightly in the wind. She set her bags down. Jeanette stayed in the doorway. "You'll change," she said. Leah looked at her. "What?" "You're not going to the city like that." Leah glanced down. "There's nothing wrong with it," Jeanette added. "It's just... very you." Leah didn't answer. Jeanette stepped closer, crouching slightly. The zipper of the bag opened. Leah's hand moved before she thought about it. The other bag—still closed—she nudged it off the bed. Too quickly. It landed softly on the floor. Jeanette's eyes flicked toward it. Just for a second. Something tightened. Then it was gone. She looked back into the bag. "This," she said, pulling out a soft, pale top. Light fabric. Shorter than Leah expected. "And this." Dark denim shorts. Fitted. She handed them over. Leah hesitated. "I don't usually wear things like this." "I know." Jeanette stood. "It's just the city." Leah looked at the clothes. Then nodded. "Okay." "And the braids..." Leah's hand moved to her hair again. "They're cute," Jeanette said. Leah looked away. "Thanks." She slipped off her shoes. There was a pause. Jeanette's gaze dropped—briefly. Her eyes tightened as a smile came. "Didn't see you were so short." Her head tilted. "Wait here," she said. And left. Leah stood still. Then sat. Her fingers twisted the end of one braid. She looked at the clothes. After a moment, she stood and changed. The top sat higher than she was used to. She tugged it down. It didn't move much. The shorts fit close. She shifted slightly. Turned toward the mirror. It fit. Just... differently. "Stop adjusting it." Leah froze. Jeanette stood behind her. Leah lowered her hands. "It's fine," Jeanette said. She stepped closer. Leah glanced at her. Jeanette's clothes sat naturally on her. Nothing pulled. Nothing corrected her beautiful curved breasts. Leah looked back at herself. So flat, so thin. Her fingers twitched slightly at her sides. Jeanette disappeared again. Returned with shoes. "Try these." Leah slipped them on. The ground felt higher. Less certain. Jeanette watched. "Better." Leah nodded. The air by the water was warmer. They sat at a wooden table near the edge. Boats moved slowly across the surface, light breaking over the waves. Leah held her ice cream. Cold against her fingers. A drop slid down. Then another. "Careful," Jeanette said. Leah laughed softly, trying to wipe it away. "I've got it." "No." Jeanette reached for a napkin. "Let me." Leah hesitated. "It's fine—" "We don't want a mess," Jeanette said quietly. A pause. "Do we?" Leah shook her head. Jeanette wiped the melted streak from her fingers with small, precise movements. Then handed her the napkin. "There." Leah nodded. "Thanks." Voices drifted around them. "You look different," one of the girls said. Leah smiled faintly. Jeanette answered. "Better." A group of boys passed behind them. Laughter. Energy. Movement. One of them said something to Jeanette. She answered without turning much. Leah barely registered it. Not until she felt it. That pull. She looked up. He stood slightly behind the others. Still. Watching. Like he had been for a while. Their eyes met. He smiled. Small. Knowing. Then turned away. Leah looked down. "You didn't hear anything I just said," Jeanette noted. Leah blinked. "I did." Jeanette smiled. "No." A small pause. "But that's okay." Leah didn't answer. She looked at the melting edge of her ice cream. But the feeling stayed. Like something had shifted slightly out of place. And didn't move back.

The morning sun cast a warm, golden glow across the city, its rays filtering through the tall buildings and casting long shadows on the bustling streets. Among the throng of people making their way through the city, Jacob, a 22-year-old man with a quiet demeanor, walked with a sense of resigned purpose. His destination was not one he looked forward to—a visit to his pediatrician's office, a place he had known all his life but never felt at ease in. Jacob had always been different, marked by a condition that seemed to defy explanation. Incontinence had been his constant, unwanted companion since childhood, a problem that persisted into his adulthood, undiminished and unexplained. Despite numerous visits, tests, and consultations, no medical reason had ever been found. His pediatrician, Dr. Martin, was a figure of mixed emotions in his life—a source of medical care but also of deep-seated humiliation. Finding no medical reason for his condition, she placed the blame squarely on Jacob’s resolve. Jacob’s parents had often taken her side, resulting in a childhood filled with punishment for matters he couldn’t control. Jacob was finally out of their grip, living on his own, but he still needed a doctor to monitor his condition and offer prescriptions. Dr. Martin was all he had ever known. As he approached the familiar building, Jacob's steps slowed, each one heavier than the last. The office was located in a quaint, older part of town, where the buildings wore their age with a sense of dignified grace. The pediatrician's office was no exception, with its colorful façade and playful window displays, designed to be welcoming to its predominantly young clientele. The walls were adorned with bright, cheerful posters of cartoon animals, and a small play area was filled with toys and books, catering to the office's usual visitors—children much younger than Jacob. The room was filled with their vibrant energy, their laughter and chatter creating a lively backdrop. He approached the reception desk, where Mrs. Jenkins, the receptionist, sat in her usual spot, her demeanor efficient and imposing. As Jacob neared, Mrs. Jenkins looked up, her expression shifting subtly from professional to something more scrutinizing. "Good morning, Jacob," she greeted him, her voice loud enough to carry over the din of the waiting room. "Here for your check-up, I see. Let's make sure you're properly prepared this time." Jacob's cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and resignation. He knew what was coming next—a routine that had become an unwelcome part of his visits. Mrs. Jenkins stood up from her desk, her presence commanding as she came around to his side. "Now, let's have a look at your diapers, Jacob. We can't have any accidents in the waiting area," she said, her tone matter-of-fact but loud enough for those nearby to hear. The room seemed to quiet slightly, the attention of parents and children subtly shifting towards them. It was a long standing policy at the office to not afford Jacob any discretion, as “motivation” for him to “change his behavior.” Jacob felt a wave of humiliation wash over him as Mrs. Jenkins, with a practiced motion, pulled back the waistband of his pants to glance at the diaper underneath. She frowned. "This looks a bit thin, Jacob. You should know better by now. We can't take any risks with leaks. You should be wearing something more absorbent when you come here. After the incident last time, didn’t the doctor tell you to wear two diapers when you came to the office?" Around them, the air was thick with unspoken questions and curious stares. A few parents whispered among themselves, casting furtive glances in his direction. Children, with their innate lack of filter, stared openly, some pointing and murmuring to their parents. Feeling exposed and small, Jacob mumbled an apology, his voice barely audible over the hum of the waiting room. Mrs. Jenkins's sharp voice cut through the din. "Come with me, Jacob," she said firmly, grasping his wrist with a firmness that brooked no argument. She pulled him towards the door to the exam rooms and called out to the first nurse she saw. "We need to get Jacob into something more... appropriate before he sits down. We can't risk any leaks on our chairs." Jacob's heart sank as a nurse quickly approached. Annoyed at the disruption to her schedule, she roughly took Jacob by the arm and led him away wordlessly, towards a small, private room typically used for changing the clinic's youngest patients. Inside, the room was small and clinical, with a changing table and a chair for nursing. The nurse pulled out a thick, babyish diaper, its surface adorned with colorful cartoon characters. Jacob sometimes wondered if they kept these stocked just for him. He had never seen such a diaper on the drugstore shelves and thankfully his actual prescription was for something thinner though he wished the doctor would prescribe pads rather than diapers. He longed to wear underwear and sometimes bought a pack of pads out of pocket just to prove he could but any mention of this to his doctor was met with reproach. “It wasn’t sanitary for someone in potty trained to be out of a diaper.” "Let's get you changed," the nurse said motioning to the changing table. Jacob complied, knowing that resistance would get him nowhere. The nurse worked quickly and efficiently, removing his thin diaper and replacing it with the thicker, more infantile one. The crinkling sound it made seemed deafeningly loud in the small room. Once the change was complete, Jacob stood up, feeling the bulk of the diaper between his legs. It was uncomfortably thick and bunched up as tried to pull his pants on. Even after adjusting the diaper, its presence was unmistakable beneath his pants. The cartoon characters poked out from this waist band and seemed to mock him with their cheerful expressions, Jacob made his way back to the waiting room. As he re-entered, the difference in his appearance was immediately noticeable. The thick diaper bulge and distinct rustle under his pants, drewing the attention of every child and parent in the room to him again. Whispers and stares followed him as he walked back to his seat in the corner. Children pointed openly, their curiosity unfiltered. "Mommy, why does that man have a diaper?" one little girl asked loudly, her finger pointing directly at Jacob. Another, slightly older boy, muttered, “What a loser.” And received no correction from his father. Jacob felt exposed, reduced to the most vulnerable version of himself, a grown man in a pediatrician's office, wearing diapers that announced his condition to the world. Jacob settled into his seat in the waiting room, feeling the bulk of his thick, babyish diaper under his pants. He tried to lose himself in the forms the receptionist had handed him, but his efforts were futile against the continued whispers and curious stares that surrounded him. Time seemed to crawl, each minute stretching longer than the last. His humiliation grew anew as more patients entered the room. They would at first be oblivious to the spectacle, until Jacob shifted, and they’d look over, perhaps expecting to see someone unraveling a candy wrapper, but Jacob had no wrapper. They’d stare until they saw the bulge in pants, and as the dots connected they would pretend to look away but Jacob knew from experience, everyone had one eye on him, secretly reveling in his embarrassment. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a nurse called his name. Jacob stood, acutely aware of the crinkling sound his diaper made with each step. He followed the nurse through the clinic's brightly lit corridors to the examination area. The nurse led him to a scale in the hallway. "We need to get an accurate weight, Jacob. Pants and shirt off, please," she said, her tone professional yet impersonal. Jacob complied, his hands trembling slightly as he removed his pants, revealing the cartoon-print diaper in full view. The nurse's eyes flicked down to it, but she made no comment. A few lucky kids and parents had been called back as well and got to finally see the full view and just how pathetic Jacob really was as he needed not just a guard or a liner but a diaper so thick it spread his legs to walk in it. Jacob could feel everyone passing by staring at his ass. She noted his weight, then added, "Your diaper is wet. It’s probably adding a bit, but we can't risk taking it off. You’d probably drip on the floor. Honestly, Jacob, were you even aware you’d wet?" Her tone was harsh as she made additional notes on her board. “It never changes with you,” she muttered Jacob glanced down wondering how she could tell. In truth, he couldn’t feel much wetness as it absorbed so easily. Sometimes he could feel a flow but often he just dribbled without much awareness. . Next, they moved to a small room for his height measurement. “Still not growing, 5 feet 4 inches,” she remarked, the same height as you were in middle school. “No chest hair,” she looked down the front of his diaper, “Are you shaving your groin or have you not developed hair yet?” Jacob burned red across his bare chest and smooth face. He was blond and men in his family typically had less hair than usual but he was particularly sensitive about how little he had sprouted. It wasn’t none though. “I shave,” he whispered. The nurse noted his response and continued. “Are you shaving your face yet?” Jacob nodded but she looked at him skeptically and took hold of his chin, turning his face to the side and drawing it closer to her to get a good look. “Hmm, I supposed you might be sprouting a few hairs.” After the preliminary checks, Jacob was ushered into the examination room, a familiar space that he had visited many times before. The room was sterile and clinical, with the examination table at the center, its paper cover crinkling under his touch as he sat down and the combination of the crinkle form his diaper and the covering made Jacob wish it was possible to not move a muscle during the whole of the visit. He knew Dr. Martin thought he was the epitome of pathetic. He wondered what fresh he’ll he would need to endure this time, all to get his insurance to pay for his diapers. patreon.com/user?u=7664738

This is the first part of a story. It wasn't going to be multipart, but it got a bit out of hand. Next part coming once I've written it. If people like this enough for me to write the rest, I guess. You knew my history. I’d explained everything to you early on. How I’d woken up to a soaked bed every morning, and come home every night smelling of poop as I couldn’t get through a day without making a mess in my underwear - more than once most days. How every time someone told a joke I’d end up hiding the huge wet patch that I’d left on the seat and my clothes, and you knew how traumatic the hand-wringing and the chastising from my parents was. Nappies would have made things so much simpler and easier, but every time the suggestion came up, I’d argued and protested, and the subject was dropped. You knew how long that went on for. Daily accidents, and daily recriminations through to my teenage years. Better-hidden accidents, less major, less frequent, but still too obvious throughout the rest of my life. Concentration. Effort. Constant awareness all the time to stop me embarrassing myself. And the endless trips back and forth to the toilet, at the slightest urge. You knew about my kinks. You helped me put two and two together, and - to understand that having accidents in a ‘safe’ way was helping me to relive the memories without the recriminations, and without the unrelenting humiliation and trauma. To not have to stop doing fun things because I needed to hide what I’d done. And you helped me realise the accidents weren’t laziness, and weren’t because I wasn’t trying hard enough, but that they were caused by things that I just couldn’t control. It was your suggestion that I wear all the time. It had always felt to me like I was LARPing incontinence, but you told me to try for a few weeks, and after that I realised how much work I’d been putting in to avoid accidents, and what life was like for everyone else. No more constant worry, no more anxiety, no more trips to the toilet every 20 minutes, and so much less shame. That initial reluctance and my push-back against you fed into our power-play dynamic. That night when I came home, standing in the hallway, trying to hide to mess in my underwear and the stain on my butt. Your tone when you told me to turn round, and the comforting hug and help cleaning up. I definitely played into the brattiness that night when you tried to put my nappy on me. I wanted it, but admitting that felt wrong. There was no way I could let you put me in one without fighting back. I needed the spanking that night. Not just because I was a brat, but I desperately needed to feel some pain to allow myself to enjoy the pleasure I was receiving for doing something that I shouldn’t have done. And then there was the day after. Being woken up with you checking my wet nappy, and changing me into a clean one. My little protest that we were going out, and that I couldn’t wear a nappy, and you making it very clear that no matter whether I wanted to or not, I was going to be in one. I decided that I had to fight back a little there. So I made sure to have lots of milk with my cereal at breakfast, and lots of milk with my coffee. You’d made it clear I wasn’t to change myself, so you were going to have to take me back and forth to the toilet so I could poop. You’d soon get bored and just take the nappy off. We got on the train. Our day out in the city was something we’d both looked forward to, and it made sense to avoid driving in. That was going to play into my plan perfectly. Those toilets were so small that you’d give up right away, regardless of the big change bag you brought with you. I’d be free of the nappies right away. I felt my tummy rumble as soon as we got on the train, and whispered in your ear, “I think I need to poo”. Your response shocked me, “well poo then. I’ll change you when we get to a station.” No taking me to the toilet, no telling me to take my nappy off, not even a “hold on as long as you can”, just a simple instruction. The journey was going to take an hour, there was no way I wanted to stay stinky for that long. Definitely not in public. But there was also no way you’d let me do that. We’d end up getting off so you could change me as soon as you smelled me. I felt my tummy grumble and cramp again, and without even trying to help it along, I felt mess leak into my nappy. I sat there, completely still. The train wasn’t busy, but it wasn’t empty, and there were going to be more people getting on as we went along. I began to smell myself, and knew other people would smell me too. “I think a bit has leaked out” I whispered to you. Your seemed surprisingly casual, “I’m sorry Honey, but it’ll be a little while before I can do anything about it. Good job for telling me though.” It might have been what you said, it might have been the tone, but I saw red. Now I wanted you to feel like you had to do something, even if it meant I was going to humiliate myself in the process. The next time my tummy rumbled, I lifted myself up off the seat, perched on your lap, and gave a push. With a bubbling squelch I filled my nappy with stinky mess as I sat on you. I thought you’d be furious. Or at the very least, shocked. “Aw, do you feel a bit better now?” certainly wasn’t the response I expected. I stayed sitting on you, the hot mush in my pamper making me feel utterly humiliated, as you cuddled me. “It’s OK, Honey. It won’t be too long before we get to our station. Why don’t you close your eyes and try to dose for a bit”. I did as you told me. I tried to relax, tried to sleep, but the stink from my nappy kept wafting into my nose, and the movement of the train kept squishing the mush against my butt. I wanted to fall into a hole. All the while you seemed so calm. Like me having stinky pants wasn’t an issue at all. I felt the train slow as we came into the first station. I started to stand up, ready to get off, but felt your arms pull me tight. I couldn’t believe you’d let me stay like this all the way through the journey, but you didn’t relent. “Are we going to get off?” I asked. “No,” you said, a firm tone to your voice, “We can’t just drop what we’re doing every time you have an accident. That’s why you’re in a nappy. I’ll change you when we get to the station”. I blushed as you mentioned my nappy. It didn’t seem like anyone heard, but you made no effort to moderate your voice. Much like the accident itself, and the clothes you’d helped me pick out - which didn’t show the nappy off, but weren’t the usual baggy outfit I’d have picked, everything was just so matter of fact. I had accidents. I wore nappies. It didn’t affect anyone else, and we weren’t going to go out of our way to disguise it. I closed my eyes again and eventually managed to drift off to sleep. I woke up to you kissing my neck. “Time to get up” I heard in my ear. “I think you peed in your sleep. I felt your nappy get warm”. I blushed again, gently repositioning myself to allow me to stand up. I could feel my nappy bulging between my legs. I’d definitely not been this wet when I went to sleep. I waddled a little as you guided me off the train. The carriage and the platform were really busy, but in my drowsy state I wasn’t paying attention to everyone around me. Probably for the best, as at least a few people were probably staring at me, pinpointing me as the source of the smell. You ushered me towards the accessible toilet, reaching round and unbuttoning my jeans as soon as you closed the door behind us. I felt your hand on the back of my nappy, pulling it back. “You definitely needed to go” I heard you say, “do you think you’re all done?” I nodded my head. “Well, I’d like you to try to go a bit more for me anyway.” you said. I tried to protest, but it was a very half-hearted effort. I bent my legs a little and strained right there and then. No more mess, but the hissing noise betrayed me losing what was left in my bladder. “Good kitty” you said, as you caressed my back. Let’s get you changed. You reached into the change bag and pulled out my pacifier, slipping it into my mouth, then unzipped the fly of my jeans, tugging them down to my ankles. “Step out please” you said, and I slipped my socks off and stepped out of my jeans. “From the state of your nappy I think it’s going to be best if we take all your clothes off” you say. I catch a glance of the nappy in the mirror and you’re right. It’s destroyed, and there’s slight brown staining around the leg holes where it’s beginning to leak. “Arms up”. I do as you instruct, and feel you pull my top over my head. Standing in nothing but my destroyed nappy, I feel utterly helpless. You’re in charge now, I have no will of my own, and no control over anything to do with my accidents at all. I watch as you pull a bath towel and a disposable pad from the bag, and lay it on the floor. I know I should lie on it, but my mind is hazy. I wait for your instruction, shivering a little from the cool air on my skin. “Lie down please.” I do as I’m told, sitting first. I feel the mess that until now had been hanging between my legs squish to the front and back of my nappy, causing another waft of the stink to come out of my nappy. With my paci filling my mouth, and no clothing to mitigate it, the smell seemed far worse. As I lay down I feel the mush continue to push up the back of the nappy, seeping out the top. Without thinking, my hands come up to my face, as you bend down and begin the change. I feel your gloved hands gently stroking across the front of my nappy, and moving to the tapes. I know what’s about to happen, and I brace myself for it. You remove the top tapes. The smell gets worse. Then the bottom tapes. I feel the air hit my crotch as you pull the front of the nappy down. The smell is terrible now. I whimper behind my pacifier, utterly humiliated. Then I feel your hand on my face, your lips on my forehead, and hear your voice, “it’s OK, nothing to worry about. Your nappy held it all, and we’re getting you clean now”. My quivering lips ease into a smile, and I feel you take the front of my nappy and use it to clean a big chunk of the mess off my bottom. Then your hands lifting my feet up, raising my legs and bottom. “Can you grab your thighs for me please” you ask. I do as I’m told, then suckle on my paci as you use wet wipes to clean the pee and mess from my thighs and around the front, before moving down towards my bottom. The cool wipes feel wonderful, and the freshly wiped, clean skin feels so nice compared to the claminess of the pee and mess. You push my legs back a little further, and raise my butt up higher, pulling the nappy out from under me, then continue cleaning me, taking a big handful of wipes and cleaning my butt cheeks. I feel you go over the same area again and again, then move inwards. I barely feel the first wipe that touches my butt hole, because there’s so much mess, but as you clean it I begin to enjoy the sensation of the wipe on my sphincter. Caressing the tender skin. Cleaning it. Soothing it. Then slipping into my hole. I whimper again, this time from pleasure rather than humiliation. You penetrate me with the wipe again, twisting your finger around a little, and I writhe as I enjoy the sensation, suckling harder on my paci. You get a new wipe and make one more pass, once again penetrating my hole and twisting your finger around. Once again it makes me writhe from the pleasurable sensations. Then you stop. “Not now, baby kitty” you say, “I’m just getting you clean before we go and enjoy our day”. I sigh, and pout, but it falls on deaf ears. You lift my butt up and slip the clean nappy underneath my bottom, then powder my butt before you let it drop slowly onto the clean and dry padding. Then you take some rash cream and gently rub it in, taking care to cover the crevices and cracks, making sure my skin will be safe until my next change. A kiss on my belly as you close the nappy up, and the four tapes sealed shut, and I’m all clean and dry. For now. I sit up just as you’re rolling up my used nappy, and get a look at the entire packet of wipes that you’ve used to clean me up. I go a little shy and nervous, and watch as you take the heavy nappy, seal it in a nappy sack, then drop it in the bin. I stifled a giggle at the thudding noise it made as it hit the bottom. Then remembered I needed clothes. I raised my arms in the air waiting for you to help me put my shirt and jumper back on. You took the hint. In a few minutes I was dressed and ready to go. And now I wasn’t feeling quite so ashamed, I remembered I was trying to be a brat and get out of this silly nappy. Stepping out onto the concourse I was a little nervous. We’d been in the bathroom for a long time, but so many people had seen us go in, someone must still be around. I felt my cheeks flush with heat again, and reached for your hand. “It’s OK,” you said, a calm tone to your voice, “you’ve had an accident and had your nappy changed. That’s all. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Once again your matter of fact attitude put me at ease. The next step of the journey was largely uneventful. A short trip on an underground train. You led me across the station to the correct platform, and we waited for the train to arrive. When it did it was packed. You ushered me on first, and followed right behind, both of us squeezing into the packed carriage. I decided to have a little fun, and rubbed my padded butt against your body, trying to turn you on. It seemed only fair after what you’d done to me during my change. I smiled to myself as I did. Not that you’d see, given there hadn’t even been room for me to turn around. After a few moments you smelled something. At least you decided that you had. I heard your voice in my ear, a little too loud for how busy the train was, “Have you had an accident Honey? Something smells stinky”. I blushed hard and shook my head. Then I felt your hand on my butt. “I can’t really tell here. I’ll have to find somewhere to check you when we get off”. That put an end to my teasing you. A couple of stops down the line the carriage emptied out a little, and I was finally able to turn around and pout at you. Of course, with the delay, it didn’t really have he effect I was hoping for, but I knew why I was pouting at you, even if you thought I was just pulling a silly face. Three more stops and it was our turn to get off. You guided me onto the escalator in front of you, and as we went up I felt a tug on the back of my diaper. I decided to not turn around, to avoid drawing attention to what you were doing, but as we got to the top I gave you a look of disapproval. “It’s OK, Kittenface, you’re not stinky” you said, a cute smile on your stupid face. I wanted to pout, but I felt my nappy grow warmer as I peed. I hadn’t even realised I needed to go, and right in front of you, looking you in the eyes, I’d wet myself. “Straight to the aquarium?,” you said, “Or shall we get a drink first?” I don’t know if you hadn’t noticed, or were just trying to remind me that my accidents weren’t an issue, but your lack of reaction meant that all of a sudden I didn’t care that I’d wet myself. “Drink please” I said. You led me out of the station, and towards a bubble tea shop. As we got inside and I started looking at the menu, I realised that I was kind of hungry too. “Is there time for food?” I asked. “There’s time for anything you want,” you replied. “Then can I have a bubble waffle and ice cream?” The last time I asked for something like this, you wanted me that the milk in the ice cream might hurt my tummy. This time though, you just gave me a smile when you said, “of course”. I honestly wasn’t sure what had changed, but I liked this new you. You let me do what I wanted, and didn’t make me feel bad for it. I went and grabbed a table as you got our food and drinks. As I sat there waiting for you, I felt a little twinge in my bladder. It wasn’t strong, but I knew I needed to pee. So I did. There and then. Just as you arrived with our drinks and my bubble waffle. “I need to check to see if you need a change after this,” you said. I couldn’t tell whether you’d noticed my pee face, or just wanted to knock me off-balance again, but once again you momentarily set my brain to ‘smol’. I gave a nod, then began tucking into my waffle. “So, I’ve got a nice day planned for us” you said, “we start at the aquarium, then stop off at the arcade. Have some lunch, then go on to the museum and the theatre”. I looked up from my waffle, somewhat surprised by the packed itinerary. “Oooor,” you said, drawing out the syllable, “we could have a slightly less busy day, where we do the aquarium, then go for lunch and see how we feel after.” “that one sounds better,” I gently spit crumbs across the table as I reply, “The other one I don’t think we’d have time to enjoy any of it.” “You’re a very wise kitty,” you reply, “even if you do talk with your mouth full. How’s your waffle?” Learning from my error, I stick my thumb up as I finish my mouthful, “want a bite?” You dive in, taking a big mouthful. “It’s good” you say, spitting some crumbs back at me, and making me giggle. “Is there anything else you’d like to do today?” you ask. “Comic shop?” I say, “and the board games store?” You nod. “That was always going to happen. Anything else?” I lean in and whisper, “Maybe we could have some play time when we get home?” You smile. “I’m sure we can make that happen.” I finish my waffle and my bubble tea. “Right, Potty Pants, time for a nappy change” you say. “You don’t want to check me first?” I smirk “I know you’re soggy” you say, “I watched you pee your pants twice.” I blush. “Now before we do that, I want you to try to make a pushie for me.” you say “Here?” I ask, surprised. “Here” you say. I lift myself slightly off my seat and do my best to poop. After a minute or so you stop me,”Anything?” I shake my head. “Well done for trying” you say. You grab the bag and usher me out of my seat, then take me into the bathroom. Its small. Much smaller than the one in the station. “We’re going to have to do this standing up” you say, already unbuttoning my jeans. You look at my yellowed, pee-soaked nappy. “Good thing I decided to change you now” you say, before turning me around and checking the back for a mess. “OK, no mess, let’s get you out of your soggy pants” You say as you untape my nappy, and let it drop to the floor. You begin wiping me down. Once again the cool wipes feel good as they clean my skin. Although this time the clean up is much quicker. Once I’m clean you take a thick nappy from your bag, and hold it up against my butt, then gently guide me to the wall so that you can use it to hold the nappy up. “Not sure how easy it’ll be to get you changed at the aquarium” you say, as I stare at the thick nappy a little surprised, “so I thought I’d put you in this in case it’s an issue.” “But people will notice” I pout. You shrug, “They’d notice leak marks on your clothes and a puddle on the floor much more” you say. I can’t fault your logic, but I definitely don’t like it. Safely taped in you pull my jeans back up. In spite of how thick the nappy is, it’s still not too obvious, but as I move the crinkling sound is much louder than from my other nappy. “You ready for the fishes?” you ask. I nod, grinning, then you lead me back out, the thick nappy making me waddle a little as I follow behind you. ***** The entrance to the aquarium is busy, and theres a security screening arch with a bag scanner. I squeeze your hand as I relaise the guards are about to see my nappies. “It’s OK,” you say, reassuring me, “you’re in nappies for a reason, and the guards don’t care.” That’s not entirely true. As the bag goes through they pull us aside. Rather than give a longwinded explanation for the contents, you gently lift my jumper up, giving the guard a glimpse of the waistband of my nappy. I blush, and squeeze your hand harder, but in spite of the little embarrassment, you probably made the right decision. Anything else would have involved them pulling the nappies out while you explain that I’m padded. This way the only person who knows about my secret is the security guard. The other side of security are lockers, and a sign asking people to store large bags to avoid overcrowding. “We’re going to have to leave this here” you say. “Do you want me to take an emergency change out?” I nod. “The only problem is we’ve not got anything to carry it in”. “No then” I say, mortified by the idea of openly carrying a nappy as we walk around the aquarium. “Good thing I put you in a thick one then” you tease. The lighting in the first room of the aquarium is dim, and the air is cool. There’s something slightly dreamy about being in a dark room where one whole wall is a giant fishtank. I rush up to it and stare at the fish. I have no idea which ones are which, but I don’t care. This is fascinating. From high up in the tank a huge fish comes swimming down, swooping through the water. I’m so engrossed in it all that I don’t notice you behind me until you wrap me in a hug. “Enjoying yourself?” you say. I nod and grin, “shall we go into the next room?” We walked through into the next area, open-topped tanks filled with rays, sharks and dogfish. I climbed the stairs to look from above, stumbling a little as my nappy made me waddle. I felt your hand on my arm, helping me stay upright, “You OK?” you asked. I nodded. Your hand moved down to my crotch, and you gave a subtle squeeze of the front of my nappy. “I think you might need to be a bit more careful on stairs” you say, “your nappy’s swelling because it’s soggy”. “I’m not soggy” I protested. Then prodded the front of my nappy. It had definitely swelled since you put it on me. I’d peed myself. When did that happen? You’d changed me less than an hour ago. You saw the look of confusion on my face. “It’s OK, you had an accident. That’s not a problem, is it?” I shook my head, and gave you a cuddle. “I guess not”. You led me down the stairs and into the next room, There were only small tanks here, but there was a series of interactive displays with screens and games and puzzles. One of the games involved downloading an app, then being given a list of fish to ‘collect’ by running between the tanks and photographing the correct one. I couldn’t resist. I was onto my fourth fish, an elusive little panda guppy, when I felt my tummy grumble. I thought about letting you know, but I was enjoying myself and didn’t want to stop. I was also worried, given the bag was at the entrance, that you’d make us cut our trip short. So I just kept on with my hunt. A little bit more searching, and I’d bagged my guppy. Next up the harlequin rasbora.My tummy cramped a little. I glanced around. You were sitting at a screen, playing one of the games, and no one else was in the room. I braced, gave a little push, and felt some mess slip out into my nappy. I patted my bottom, and sniffed the air. It didn’t seem that much and not that noticeable, so I went back to my search. It took me another ten minutes or so to find the last four fish. At the end of the search walked over to the screen where I’d downloaded the app, scanned the completion code, and watched all my fish appear on the screen. It then congratulated me and told me I could collect a prize from the gift shop at the end. I got really excited and ran over to you to show you the screen. I’m sure I saw you sniff as I came near you, but I was too excited to worry about that. You gave me a little hug, then got up. Before I realised what was happening, you turned me round and checked that no one else was in the room, then pulled the back of my jeans and nappy. “Thought so” I heard you say. I blushed. “Are we going to have to leave to get me changed?” I said, my voice tinged with sadness and disappointment. You shook your head, “no, it’s OK, it’s not very noticeable, you’ll be fine a bit longer, but If you realise you’ve had another stinky accident I’d like you to let me know, so that if it is bad we can deal with it.” I nodded. “Uh-huh”. “Shall we go onto the next area?” you asked. I nodded. You led me through the doors into the next area. It was a tunnel, a long, glass one, cutting through an enormous water tank. Fish of all sorts swam through it, and i was incredible. A ray sailed over our heads, and I stopped to watch it. “There was no way I was going to let you miss out on this” you said to me, “no matter how bad an accident you’d had”. I giggled. “I’d have been very sad if you had”. Then I turned to you and gave you a big kiss on the lips. As I pulled away I looked in your eyes and smiled, “I still owe you a teasing for when you were changing me”, We continued on through the tunnel, going slowly as we marveled at the fish swimming above our heads, then emerged into the next room - another activity room. There were a lot more people in here than the last one, and most of the activities were taken up. I made a beeline for one of the empty ones, which had a screen at the top of a wall with various pictures and buttons on it. You walked around the room, looking at the signs on the wall, while I played. The game was OK, but was nowhere near as fun as the fish-finding one I’d played in the other room. The screen would display a fish, then I’d have to find the area of the world it lived in, and how deep it lived. The buttons were in rows and columns, with the columns representing a sea or ocean, and the rows showing the depth - shallowest at the top, deepest at the bottom. It started out as fun, but as I went on i found crouching down and standing up over and over was getting kind of tiring. It was also making my tummy feel grumbly again. I crouched down again, pressing the deepest button to show where the blobfish lived, and as I did my tummy cramped. Without much thought, I gave a push. Unlike the last mess, which was more like a lumpy fart, this was a big, semi-solid poop - the result of the ice cream I’d had earlier making my tummy go haywire. It also smelled pretty awful. I panicked. I knew there couldn’t be many more rooms left, and we’d already been here a good couple of hours, but I didn’t want to have to rush through and leave before we’d done the aquarium properly. I finally stood back up, and kept playing the game. After a few more fish I’d finished. I looked around the room, and saw you were still walking around looking at signs. I gently brushed my hand against my butt. The seat of my jeans was being pushed out by the poop. There was no way you wouldn’t realise what I’d done the minute I came back to you. If you didn’t smell it, you’d definitely see it. I spotted a hard stool in a corner of the room. That would help. I waddled over to it, and sat on the stool, doing my best to smoosh the poop and hide the bluge. I had no idea whether that had worked, but it definitely made the smell worse. To a point where people were looking round trying to work out where it was coming from. There was no way I could stay here. I decided to go find you, and hope that you wouldn’t notice what I’d done. By that point you’d stopped walking around the room, and were standing in the centre, watching me. I came up to you, a little unsteady on my feet as my nappy was now extremely bulky and pushing my legs apart. “What were you doing there, Kitty-cat?” you asked. “Nuthin’” I said, as innocently as possible, “My legs hurt after playing that game, and I wanted to sit down for a minute”. “OK” you said, a tone of disbelief in your voice “Is that why you were crouching down while you were playing it as well?” I didn’t realise you’d seen that. Now would be a perfect time to come clean about my accident like you’d asked me to do. You did say you’d get it sorted, but that would definitely involve going to the entrance to get the changing bag, and then we’d have to leave.. I nodded. “No other reason?” you asked, probing. I moved my head towards you to whisper a reply, then thought about how much I wanted to see what was in the next rooms. I shook my head instead. “Nope”. “Come on then” you said, taking my left hand in yours and ushering me towards the exit. I wondered why you’d chosen to do that, until I felt your right hand on my bottom. You had positioned it slightly underneath, so that it was exactly on the area that was messy, then you put pressure on it, making the mess stick to my butt, reminding me exactly of what I had done. You whispered in my ear, “I think someone has had a very stinky accident?” At this point there was no sense in lying any more. You knew. You’d always known. You even watched me poop my nappy. “Nu-uh!” I whined, “It’s just that the room is smelly”. “Oh? OK” you say as we get to the door. “So it’ll smell better in the next room then?” I shrug, “I don’t know. I’ve not been here before. Maybe?” “Let’s find out” You say as you lead me through the door. The next room has pictures of most of the fish we saw previously on the walls, acting as a bit of a summary of what we’ve seen. From what I could tell it served as a build up to the next room, which must have been the crescendo of the experience. It certainly didn’t seem like people found this room particularly interesting, as it was completely empty. “Nope,” you say, “it definitely doesn’t smell better here”. There’s a tone of frustration in your voice, although from the look on your face it seems to be more for effect rather than genuine. You stop me, just as we’re far enough through for the door to close behind us, and I feel your hand move from my bottom up to the top of my jeans. There’s a slight rush of cool air as you pull back the waistband of my nappy, and the smell gets worse. “ “For someone who hasn’t had an accident,” you say, “there’s an awful lot of poo in your nappy”. You spin me around so I can see your face. You look calm and amused, and your eyes have a wonderful mix of kindness and concern. “Being serious for a minute,” you say, a measured tone to your voice, “I’m not upset you’ve had an accident. Remember, it doesn’t matter, and if you want me to just make it better and make the embarrassment go away, all you need to do is ask”. I nod, my eyes welling up as I try to fight back tears. I wrap my arms around you in a tight hug, Squeezing hard and not letting go for a minute or so. Then I let go, and step back, my head bowed a little. I have no idea what’s coming next, but I know you’re usually pretty creative with my punishments, making them fit the ‘crime’. You take my hand. There’s an accessible toilet in one corner of the room. You lead me into it and close the door. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light. It’s much brighter in here than in the rest of the aquarium. When they do, I realise you’re unbuttoning my jeans. “Did you manage to bring a change?” I say, hope in my voice. “No.” you say, the stern, matter of fact tone to your voice that you’d had earlier coming back. You let my jeans drop to the floor. As I go to step out of them you stop me. “You’ll keep those around your ankles, please”, you say. It’s not a request. You then pull my tshirt and jumper off, leaving them dangling around my wrists. “Don’t let that come off of your wrists under any circumstances”. I nod my head. Your tone, and the situation, has stopped any hint of bratiness. “Now tell me what happened, please” you say, sitting on the closed toilet lid and watching me intently. There’s a slight hissing noise, as without warning or sensation, I lose control and wet my nappy. When it stops I begin to speak. “I didn’t know I needed to poo, then I needed to poo. And it just. I felt a cramp, and then I pushed. I didn’t realise it was going to be so much, and I didn’t want to have to stop having fun just because I’d pooed my nappy. So I tried to keep playing. Then when the game ended, i realised that you might see that my nappy had got bigger at the back so I sat down to try to squish the poo. I didn’t mean to be bad, I just didn’t want to have to leave” The words had started coming out slowly, but sped up as I spoke. Until I got to the bit about sitting down, where the emotion overwhelmed me, and I had to choke out the last bit through tears. By the time I finished speaking I was sobbing uncontrollably. “Come over here please” you said, and I shuffled across the floor, my gait restricted by my nappy and my jeans. You take my hand and begin stroking it reassuringly. “Do you know why you’re being punished?” “Because I didn’t tell you that I’d had an accident? And I tried to hide it from you?” I sniffled. You shook your head , “Because you knew you’d had an accident, but you lied to me. Again and again.” “I just didn’t want to leave” I said, once again sobbing harder. “I know, kitten-face,” you say, using my hand to pull me across your lap, “and you won’t be yet. Not until I decide.” I’m just processing this when I feel a firm slap on the bottom of my nappy. It doesn’t hurt - it would be difficult to hurt me through the padding - but the combination of the thudding, and the sensation of my mess being moved around my nappy with every blow makes me zone out, my brain slipping into a little-ish headspace. After ten swipes you stop hitting. Instead you rub my back, soothing me. You reach into your pocket and pull out my pacifier, slipping it into my mouth, then help me stand up, before guiding me to sit on your lap so you can hug me. I don’t know how long you spend cuddling me, but it’s soothing. At some point I’d stopped sobbing, and was contentedly suckling my pacifier and smiling a little. “OK, stinky-butt” you say, “time to get your clothes back on and get moving”. I stand up, still in a bit of a daze, and let you slip my tops back over my head, and pull my jeans up. They barely fit over my nappy, and the waistband is now very obvious above them. Although the smell of my mess is pretty obvious even if people can’t see my nappy. Before you open the door, you pop the pacifier out of my mouth and slip it back into your pocket. Then you lead me out into the boring room. “I meant what I said about staying until I decide we’re done, by the way” you said, that firm tone back to your voice, “as you don’t seem to care about everyone knowing you’ve messed your nappy, we’re going to keep looking around here until I decide that we can go and get you changed.” I try to work out what you mean by that, but before I can ask any questions, you’ve led me through into the next room. Which again is absolutely full of people. My grip on your hand tightens unconsciously. It won’t be too long before people start to notice that there’s a smell. And that I’m the source. I’m so worried about the people, that I don’t notice the room we’re in. Like the first room, it’s dark, and there’s a whole wall that’s an aquarium tank, but this one is monumental. It’s at least two stories tall, and it’s curved, stretching around the room so we can step inside the curve and be surrounded by the tank on nearly all sides. You lead me towards the curve. Although it is busy, it’s not so bad that we can’t get a good spot. You wrap your arms around me again, and we stand, just looking at the fish, enjoying the moment together. People may well have noticed my messy nappy, but right now I’m completely absorbed by us and I don’t care at all. “How are you feeling?” you ask. “Really happy” I reply. “I was never going to interrupt what we’re doing just to change your nappy.” you say, your voice soothing and calm, “the whole point of them is that you get to enjoy things. To have fun, without having to worry about accidents. And it’s not your fault you’re stinky. It’s the aquarium making it hard for you to be able to change.” My eyes begin to well with tears again, and I give you a big kiss.

Chapter 1 - The Fine Print Buzz. Buzz. The vibration was a dull, persistent drill against the wood of the nightstand. I groaned, my hand blindly scavenging for the device while my head remained buried deep in the sanctuary of my pillow. Without so much as squinting at the screen, I pressed to accept and brought the phone to my ear. "Hello?" I croaked, my throat dry from sleep. "Is this Josiah Morris?" The woman’s voice was warm, humming with a kind of gentle energy that felt out of place for a total stranger. "Uhm, yeah. Sorry... who is this?" I rubbed my face, trying to kickstart my brain into some semblance of functionality. "My name is Tara Collins. You registered for the optional dormitory mailing list for international students. Is that correct?" I nearly tumbled off the edge of the mattress as I bolted up from the bed. "Yeah! Yes, that's correct," I blurted out. Across the room, my laptop screen remained lit. It was a graveyard of open tabs. Craigslist, student forums, shady Facebook groups. Every single one was a dead end. I was moving to another country for the first time in my life, and I had foolishly underestimated how hard it would be to find a place to stay. "Well," Ms. Collins continued, her tone shifting slightly. "It is perhaps not the conventional living situation you were hoping for, but I am currently conducting a longitudinal experiment that requires a student participant from abroad. As part of the study, you would be assigned a private dorm room in the staff building. However, the experiment also requires you to participa-" "I'll take it!" I cut her off, the words escaping before she could finish. At that point, she could have told me I'd be sleeping in a broom closet with a family of raccoons, and I still would have jumped at it. I was a week away from being homeless in a foreign city. "I wasn't finished..." her voice had sharpened, turning strict, yet it remained strangely calm. "I'm sorry. I apologize," I said, my heart hammering against my ribs. "It's just... I'll take it. Not to sound desperate, but I was half-expecting to be sleeping on a park bench by the time the semester started. I am more than willing to partake in your experiment." "Very well," she replied, and I could almost hear the sound of a mental checkbox being ticked. "I will email you the full dossier. I need the signed documents returned to me by noon tomorrow. Please, read the entire document before signing, as the terms of the agreement are quite... specific." "Of course, thank you so much! I'll get on it right away." I was beaming now, the kind of wide, aching smile that takes over your whole face. "Thank you again for this opportunity. I won't disappoint you, I promise." "Good to hear. Provided the paperwork is in order, I will contact you upon your arrival. See you soon, Mr. Morris." The line went dead. I threw myself back onto the bed, letting out a jagged breath of pure, unadulterated relief. The final piece of the puzzle had just clicked into place. In just four days, I would be starting my new life at MIT. It felt like a dream. Knock, knock. "Joey! We're leaving in five minutes!" my father shouted through the door, his voice booming with that 'don't-make-us-late' edge. "Shit," I whispered, the euphoria vanishing in an instant. In the chaos of the housing hunt, I had completely pushed my cousin's wedding out of my mind. I glanced at my phone and saw the notification chime: New Email – Ms. Collins. I stared at the attachment for a second. Noon tomorrow, I thought. I've got plenty of time. I tossed the phone onto the unmade bed and scrambled toward the shower. The sunlight pierced through the curtains, as I woke up the next day. I fumbled for my phone, squinting against the glare of the screen. My heart stopped. 11:43 AM. Three missed calls. All from the same number. I scrambled out of the tangled sheets, my head spinning as I stood up too fast. I didn't even have time to brush my teeth before I hit redial, pacing the small patch of carpet in my room. "Hello, Ms. Collins," I said, trying to smooth the gravel out of my voice, praying I sounded like a functioning adult. "I am so sorry I missed your calls." "Hello again, Mr. Morris," she replied. "I was beginning to worry. I hadn't received the signed documents, and as I mentioned, the window for this specific placement is quite narrow." "Oh! You haven't?" I forced a gasp of mock surprise, the lie sliding off my tongue with desperate ease. "I must have... I think I left the window open on my laptop and forgot to hit send. I'll send them over right this second." "I see. Well, you sound certain of your decision, so I will take that as good news," she said. There was a brief pause. "I am looking forward to meeting you, Mr. Morris. See you soon." "See you soon, Ms. Collins!" I hung up and let out a huge sigh of relief. I dove for my laptop, my fingers trembling as I navigated to my inbox. I opened the attachment, expecting a standard three-page lease. Instead, the scroll bar on the side of the screen shrank until it was just a tiny sliver. "Fifty pages..." I whispered, clutching my head in disbelief. "Fifty fucking pages." I scrolled down frantically. I looked at the clock. 11:51 AM. I thought about the graveyard of open tabs on my browser. I thought about the "Room Taken" emails. I thought about the tiny, windowless broom closet I'd almost settled for. "I'll just read it on the plane," I muttered to myself, a mantra to quiet the screaming alarm bells in the back of my mind. "I'll have six hours of nothing but time. I'll read every single word then." With a burst of reckless courage, I typed my digital signature into the box, and hit Submit. Message Sent. The relief was instantaneous. It was done. I had a place to stay. I had a future at MIT. I stood up, feeling like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and headed for the shower. I had a flight to catch, a new life to start, and fifty pages of fine print that I'd definitely read later. The steam from the shower helped my brain fog, but it couldn't wash away the nagging feeling that I had just signed a contract with a ghost. I put on my best jeans, and the "MIT" t-shirt my aunt had bought me as a parting gift. It felt heavy on my shoulders, like I hadn't quite earned it yet. I shoved the last of my chargers into my carry-on and looked around my room. It was stripped bare. "Joey! The Uber is here!" my mom's voice echoed from downstairs, high-pitched and bordering on tears. "Coming!" I yelled back. The drive to the airport was a symphony of "Are you sure you have your passport?" and "Make sure you eat actual vegetables." My dad sat in the front seat, unusually quiet, his eyes fixed on the road. I could tell he was trying to be the strong, but every time he caught my eye in the rearview mirror, his expression softened into something that looked a lot like fear. The farewell at the security gate was a messy blur of hugs and promises to FaceTime every day. As I walked through the metal detector and watched them wave until I disappeared around the corner, the reality finally hit me: I was alone. I found my gate and sat down. My eyes felt like they were made of lead. The stress of the morning, and the emotional drain of the goodbye were finally catching up to me. "Boarding for Group A," the intercom crackled. I had hoped to have some time at the airport to read through a bit of the agreement, but I couldn't focus on legal jargon right now. I just needed to get there. Once I was settled in my room, I'd have all the time in the world to figure out what it was all about. I shuffled onto the plane, found my seat, and buckled in. As the engines began to roar, vibration hummed through the floorboards, lulling me into a sense of false security. By the time the wheels left the tarmac, the 50-pages of pre-signed agreement was the last thing on my mind. The clouds rose up to meet us, and I let my head fall back against the headrest, falling into a deep sleep. Chapter 2 - The Nursery The vast majority of the flight vanished into a heavy, dreamless slumber. I had fully intended to look over the documents before we touched down, but exhaustion had proven a far more persuasive companion. She'll likely recap the whole thing once I arrive anyway, I reasoned, rubbing the grit from my eyes as I stepped into the terminal. I was just reaching for my phone to hail a cab when the screen lit up. Ms. Collins. "Hello, Ms. Collins? Is everything alright?" I asked, trying to force my voice into a state of professional alertness. "I was about to ask you the same thing, Mr. Morris. Mr. Jones just called, he says you never showed at the airport?" Her voice sounded worried "What? Wait... you sent someone to fetch me?" A wave of embarrassment crashed over me. I was already eroding the first impression I had spent weeks worrying about. "Yes... as per our arrangement?" The silence that followed was heavy. I could practically see her arching a skeptical eyebrow through the line. "Oh, yes. Of course. I mean... I must have missed him. Perhaps I was waiting at the wrong terminal?" I lied, praying my cover wasn't already blown. "Well, he is waiting out front with a sign that reads Morris. You can't miss it. I will see you shortly, Mr. Morris," I quickly found Mr. Jones, and soon we were weaving through traffic toward the campus. As the buildings grew more imposing, a swarm of nervous butterflies began to stir in my stomach. I had to physically pinch the back of my hand to convince myself this wasn't some elaborate fever dream. I was actually here. Ms. Collins was waiting for us in front of the main building. She was a formidable presence, her gaze determined, but her smile felt warm. Her hair was pulled back into a severe, flawless bun, and she clutched a thick leather folder to her chest. The agreement, no doubt. Stepping out into the warmth of the summer breeze, I approached her and extended a hand. "Hi, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Ms. Collins," I said, offering what I hoped was an authentic, confident smile. "Welcome, Mr. Morris. I am so happy you decided to accept. I imagine you have a million questions rattling around in your head." "Oh, definitely. But I think we should just cross that bridge when we get there," I lied again, offering a quick smile to keep her from digging any deeper. "Fair enough. One step at a time," she said, her expression softening into something genuinely kind. "Now, Josiah, is it alright if I call you that? Come inside, let me show you around." Her voice was filled with a bright, welcoming energy that actually made my nerves settle for the first time in days. I followed her through the doors, my footsteps muffled by the thick, plush carpeting of a vast, silent hallway. Ms. Collins stopped near the end of the corridor, gesturing toward a pair of doors. "Your room is here on the right, and I’ll be directly across the hall on the left." I did a double-take. "Oh... you’re staying here too?" She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she turned to face me, a single eyebrow arching. "Josiah... you did read the full agreement, didn't you?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Oh yeah, of course!" I stammered, the lie feeling heavier by the second. "It’s just... I thought that door was the bathroom. That’s all I meant." She let out a short, melodic giggle, as if I had just told a particularly clever joke. I forced a jagged laugh of my own, trying to mirror her mood. She seemed to buy it; her shoulders dropped back into a relaxed, easy posture. "Well, I actually have a private bathroom connected to my room," she said with a calm, encouraging smile. "Since it’s your first day and you’ve had such a long trip, I’ll let you use it now if you need to." I wasn’t entirely sure why she phrased it like that, but I was too tired to care. I thanked her and stepped inside. The bathroom caught me off guard. It was pristine, but the decor was... different. A pink shower curtain with cartoonish bubbles surrounded a deep, oversized bathtub. In the corner stood an enormous, padded table. It looked exactly like a changing table, but it was massive, reinforced and scaled for a fully grown adult. I stared at it for a second, then shook my head and pushed the thought aside. After I finished, Ms. Collins insisted on a brief talk. "Before I show you the room, Josiah, I need you to be honest with me," she said, stopping at my door. Her voice was thick with professional concern. "It can be a lot to take in. Reading the protocol is one thing, but the reality of the immersion can be quite the shock to the system. Are you feeling ready?" "Absolutely," I said, trying to sound like the confident student she expected, despite not having read a single word of the fifty pages. She stood silently for a moment, her hand resting on the brass knob. She looked almost hesitant, like she was bracing herself for my reaction. Then, she took a steadying breath and pushed the door open, stepping back and looking away almost as if she couldn't bear to see the look on my face. I stepped inside, and the air seemed to leave my lungs. The room was a sensory assault of pastel blue. Murals of grinning bunnies, fluffy clouds, and vibrant rainbows danced across every inch of the walls. My gaze drifted from the whimsical art to the furniture. In the place of a desk stood another one of those massive, padded changing tables. And across from it, positioned like a cage in the very center of the room, was a crib. The bars were thick, reinforced and sized for a man of my stature. Panic flooded my chest. I turned and bolted. I scrambled back down the hall, my lungs burning as I burst through the front doors and out into the afternoon sun. I stood on the doorstep, gasping, looking out over the unfamiliar campus. I had no money, no flight home, and no one to call. The first sob caught me by surprise. "Can't believe I'm fucking crying," I hissed into the empty air, but my knees gave out anyway. I collapsed onto the stone step, burying my face in my hands as the weight of my isolation crashed over me. A moment later, I felt a firm, warm hand on my shoulder. Ms. Collins had followed me. She sat down beside me on the cold stone, pulling me into a side-hug. "I know, I know... it’s a lot to take in at once," she crooned, her voice smooth and calm. She began to stroke my hair with a rhythmic, calming motion. "I promise you, Josiah... it is far better than it looks. You just need time to settle in and let go." I just sat there, my whole body shaking, as the true nature of the 'experiment', and the contract I had so blindly signed, finally began to dawn on me. Chapter 3 - Far Away From Home We sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity. My mind was a chaotic blur of MIT, my parents' expectations, and that... room. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. I was supposed to be a man on a mission, starting a prestigious life in a new city. Instead, I was sitting on a stone step being held by a woman who had built a cage for a toddler and put my name on the door. The betrayal felt like a physical weight. I suddenly found the strength to move, shoving her arm off my shoulder and scrambling to my feet. "You’re sick," I spat, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and rage. I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached. "You’re a sick, twisted lunatic. I can’t believe you actually think this is... that this is okay." Ms. Collins didn't flinch. She didn't even look insulted. She simply looked up at me with a pained, confused expression. The look a mother gives a child who has just said something hurtful in the middle of a tantrum. "Josiah, please, take a breath," she said softly, her voice remaining steady. "I understand that the transition is a lot to process, but I don't understand this reaction. Less than an hour ago, you were telling me how excited you were to begin." Her words hit me like a physical blow. The memory of my own voice, eager and desperate over the phone, echoed in my head. Then, the weight of the fifty-page document crashed down on me. "I... I didn't read your stupid contract!" I yelled, the admission feeling like a confession of a crime. "Did you really expect me to sit through fifty pages of that legal gibberish?" Ms. Collins stood up slowly, smoothing out her skirt. "I mean... yes, Josiah. I did. I wrote every clause with absolute care and transparency specifically so we wouldn't find ourselves in a moment like this." She took a step toward me, her hand reaching out tentatively. "I wanted you to know what to expect." I didn't want to hear her logic. I didn't want to hear that she was "right" in a technical sense. I turned on my heel and walked. I didn't have a plan, a map, or a destination. I just had to put distance between myself and that building. "Josiah, please! Let’s just talk!" I heard her call out behind me. I didn't look back. I picked up the pace, my walk turning into a jog, then a full-out sprint. My eyes blurred with tears. My lungs burned and my legs felt like lead, but I kept going until the campus buildings faded and the streets became unfamiliar. Miles later, my body finally gave out. Exhaustion dragged me down to a wooden bench in a quiet, shadowed park. I collapsed onto it, gasping for air, barely noticing the elderly man sitting at the other end of the bench. "You look like you've seen a ghost, son," the man said, his voice gravelly and slow. I tried to pull myself together, wiping my face with the back of my hand. "Uhm, yeah. I just... I needed to get away." "Away from what?" he asked, looking out at the pond in front of us. I sat in silence, trying to find an answer that didn't sound insane. How do you tell a stranger you’re running away from a nursery? After a long pause, the man spoke again. "You can try to outrun your problems, son, but they always catch up. I know it seems like the world might be ending right now, but whatever you're running from... eventually, you’ll have to face it head-on. Take it from a man who spent twenty years running the other way." He gave me a firm, grounding clap on the shoulder before standing up. "Take all the time you need. Your problems aren't going anywhere; you don't have to face them until you're ready." I muttered a "thank you" as he walked away. The adrenaline was gone, replaced by a shivering chill. My MIT t-shirt was soaked with sweat and the evening air was biting. I curled up on the bench, tucking my arms into my chest, and drifted into a miserable sleep. "Hey. Wake up. You can't sleep here." A flashlight beam cut through my eyelids. I squinted, seeing the dark silhouette of a park patrol officer. The sun was long gone; the park was a void of shadows. "I’m sorry, sir," I stammered. "Don't you have somewhere you need to be, young man?" the officer asked. The image of the nursery flashed in my mind, the pastel blue, the bunnies, the reinforced bars of the crib. I cringed, a visceral shiver running through me. "I'll leave," I said, forcing myself to stand. "Look, I can give you a lift if you're lost," the officer offered. "Does your mother know you're out here?" "I live alone," I hissed, the word mother stinging like salt in a wound. "I'll just walk. It's not far." I was a "genius" starting at MIT, and here I was, wandering a dark city like a homeless person because I was too afraid of a bedroom. The cold was becoming unbearable. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. 37 Missed Calls. 18 Unread Messages. Please come home, Josiah. I'm worried about you. It's getting cold, dear. Please let me know you're safe. I've made dinner. We can talk about everything when you get here. I sat down on the cold concrete of a sidewalk, staring at the screen. I had no money for a hotel. I had no friends in this country. I could sit here and freeze, or I could call the only person who had a bed waiting for me. I hit the call button. She picked up in less than two seconds. "Josiah? Where are you? Are you okay?" Her voice was frantic, humming with that same terrifying, professional worry. "Please come back. We can talk about this, I promise." "Can you pick me up?" I whispered, my voice breaking "Of course, honey. Send me your location. I'll be right there." I sent the pin and sat there, hugging my knees. Less than ten minutes later, a white Toyota pulled up to the curb.. I didn't move. I just hid my face in my hands. "Josiah..." The sound of my name shook me to my core. It felt like I’d been caught in the middle of some terrible mischief, like I was a child who had wandered too far into the woods and was finally being found. I looked up. Ms. Collins was standing by the open car door. Her eyes showed no anger, no "I told you so." Only a deep, radiating worry. Without a word, I climbed into the backseat. Ms. Collins didn't try to force a conversation. She just closed the door softly, got into the driver's seat, and began the silent drive back. As we approached the buildings again I could feel my stomach twisting into knot. I looked over at Ms. Collins. She just gave me a calm, steady look, as if my midnight flight had been nothing more than a minor misunderstanding. We walked inside in silence. The hallway was quiet, but the silence was loud. When we finally reached our doors, she stopped and turned to me, her expression softening into something genuinely apologetic. "Josiah, I’m so sorry if this has been too much all at once," she said, in a low soothing tone "I’ve been so focused on my own vision, that I completely forgot to account for the person behind the paperwork." I looked at the door to the nursery, then back at her. I couldn't go in there. Not tonight. "How about you sleep in my room tonight?" she offered, tilting her head. "I can take the couch. I think you need a proper bed more than I do." I couldn't find the words to thank her. I just nodded. Her suite was a world away from the pastel assault across the hall. It was large, much larger than mine, and felt like a real home. There was a small, high-end kitchenette, a sitting area with a plush couch and a TV, and a sleeping area tucked away behind a wall of built-in closets that made the bed feel like a secluded nest. Without another word, she grabbed a spare blanket and settled onto the couch. I collapsed onto her bed, the sheets smelling like her, vanilla and laundry detergent, and fell into a heavy sleep the second my head hit the pillow. Chapter 4 - Imposter Syndrome I was awoken the next morning by the sizzle of bacon. For a moment, I forgot where I was. I sat up and saw Ms. Collins at the stove. She had already changed into a sharp, professional blouse and slacks, her hair perfectly in place. "Good morning, sweetie," she said, not looking up from the pan, but her tone was bright and friendly. "I’ve made us some breakfast. I hope you’re hungry." "Uhm, thanks," I muttered, sliding out of bed. The shame of yesterday’s outburst started to prickle at the back of my neck. I felt like a child who had thrown a fit and was now being rewarded for it. As if she could read my mind, she turned and offered a reassuring smile. "Let’s just forget about yesterday for now, Josiah. It was a long day for both of us. We can talk things through properly after your classes, alright?" I nodded, grateful for the reprieve. The breakfast was incredible, far better than anything my parents had ever made. After eating, I showered and changed. As I headed for the door, Ms. Collins handed me a sleek metal lunchbox. "I packed you a little something for later. Have a wonderful first day, Josiah." "Thanks," I mumbled, avoiding her eyes, and headed out toward the campus. MIT was everything I expected and nothing I was prepared for. My first lecture was Physical Biochemistry and Data Analysis. Within twenty minutes, I felt the familiar confidence I’d carried through high school begin to crumble. I had always been the smartest person in the room, the kid who didn't have to study, the one who saw the patterns before the teacher even finished the sentence. But here, I was invisible. The professor spoke in a shorthand I barely understood, and the questions from the other students were so abstract they made my head spin. The next class was Genetics, and it didn’t go any better. By the time I walked out of the second lecture, I felt completely used up. As I walked back to the staff building, the dread of the nursery returned. I froze at the end of the hallway, staring at the heavy oak doors. But before the panic could take hold, a warm, familiar voice came from behind me. "So, how was the first day?" I turned to see Ms. Collins. She looked genuinely interested, her eyes searching mine for an answer. "Uhm... it was good," I lied, looking down at my shoes. "Why don't you come inside?" she said, gesturing toward her suite. "I’ll start on dinner, and then I think it’s time we really talked things through." I followed her in and sat at the small dinner table. Ms. Collins went straight to the kitchen, the rhythmic sound of her chopping vegetables filling the room. "Josiah, I’ve been thinking about it today, and I feel absolutely terrible about how yesterday went," she said, her back still turned to me. The guilt in my stomach twisted. She sounded so sincere. "I hadn't fully considered how taxing it must be to move to a new country, only to have a complete change in environment pushed on you the same hour you land. It was so... insensitive of me. And for that, I am truly sorry." Her apology hit me unexpectedly hard. I felt the tears starting to prickle again. "You shouldn't be apologizing... you've been nothing but kind to me." Ms. Collins turned around. There was no professional distance in her eyes now, only a deep, radiant compassion. She walked over and pulled me into a soft, firm hug, resting her hand on the back of my head. "It’s okay, Josiah. Really," she whispered. "I think it’s best we’re honest with each other, so I think it’s important I tell you more about why I’m even doing this experiment." The hug lasted a long time. In the vacuum of her suite, the reality of the nursery across the hall felt like a distant fever dream, but as she pulled back, the weight of the situation returned. I was still a nineteen-year-old man standing in a professor's kitchen, and she was still a woman who had built a nursery for me. She didn't let go of my hands. She led me to the sofa and sat me down, her expression distant, as if she were looking at a version of her life that had never actually happened. "Growing up, I didn't want a PhD. I didn't want a laboratory or a faculty position," she began. "I wanted a white picket fence. A small farm with a few chickens, maybe a couple of horses, and a dog that barked at the mailman. I wanted a boy and a girl. I wanted the noise, the mess, the... the life." She smiled, but it was the saddest thing I had ever seen. "I met him when I was nineteen. He was everything I thought a husband should be. We were married at twenty, and spent every night dreaming about our future home. We didn't even feel like adults yet, but we were so ready to be parents. But just as quickly our dreams were shattered when the doctors told me I had a dysfunction. I would never be able to conceive. It felt like a death sentence. Not just for me, but for the dream we shared." She took a shaky breath, her thumb tracing the back of my hand. "My husband... he couldn't look at me the same way. The silence in our house became a weapon. I realized he was mourning a family I couldn't give him. I left him hoping that he would have a chance at the life I never could. I buried myself in academia. I moved to Boston, got my degree at MIT, and worked thirty-hour weeks on top of my studies, just so I wouldn't have to think about the dream I left behind." her eyes snapped back to mine "I thought I could out-study the loneliness, that I could find a different path. It was a hopeless endeavour… After I finished my doctorate, I was once again confronted with my deepest desires. I tried adoption, but the system is... unkind to single, career-driven women. Then, two years ago, I came across a series of papers on Neural Regression Therapy. It’s a study on how deep-stress environments, like the one you're in now at MIT, can be mitigated by allowing the brain to return to a state of total security." she paused “After that the idea slowly evolved… I knew how insane it sounded, but I couldn't push it away.” I sat in stunned silence. I thought about my genetics lecture today. I thought about how out of my depth I felt, how small I was in this massive university. "The Dean allowed me to use these staff rooms," she whispered. "And then I found your application." We sat in the silence of the room for a few minutes. Part of me felt like a pawn in her game. But looking at her, seeing her genuine pain, I felt a wave of compassion that caught me off guard. I cleared my throat, my heart hammering against my ribs. "I'm not... I'm not going to act like a baby, Ms. Collins," I said, the words feeling like they were being dragged out of me. She looked at me, her eyes hopeful. "But," I continued, feeling a mix of nausea and a strange sense of duty. "If it really is for the experiment... and if it makes you feel any better... I'll try sleeping in the room tonight. I'll try the crib." The words felt like a betrayal of my own adulthood, but the way Ms. Collins’ face lit up made the disgust easier to swallow. She leaned in and squeezed me in another hug, tighter than before, her voice muffled against my shoulder. "Thank you, Josiah," she whispered through a fresh set of tears. "Thank you so much.” Chapter 5 - The Pillow Fort As the evening wound down and bedtime loomed, the weight of my decision started to settle in. I knew I had made a deal, and I knew why she needed this, but that didn't stop the prickle of humiliation from burning the back of my neck. As I brushed my teeth in her bathroom, my eyes kept darting toward the corner, toward that massive, padded changing table. I caught myself imagining what it would feel like to actually lie back on it, and I cringed so hard I nearly choked on my toothpaste. I shook the thought away, rinsed my mouth, and walked into the hallway. Ms. Collins was already at the door to the nursery. She looked radiant, her eyes humming with a quiet, suppressed excitement that made me feel even more exposed. I took a deep breath, like a diver about to plunge into freezing water. As we entered the room I noticed a small, sturdy set of wooden steps next to the crib. I knew I could easily vault over the side myself, but I could tell she wanted to savor the process. I climbed the steps and lowered myself over the rail. I was surprised by the texture. From the outside, the wooden bars looked like a cage, but the inside was a sensory heaven. The bottom was thick, high-density foam covered in the softest flannel I had ever felt. It didn't feel like a prison; it felt like a pillow fort. I pulled the heavy, weighted blanket up to my chin and closed my eyes, trying to ignore the fact that Ms. Collins was standing just a few feet away, watching me with a look of pure, maternal pride. I drifted off faster than I ever had in my own bed. — "Are you awake sweetie?" The voice was distorted, crackling with a slight layer of electronic static. I bolted upright, my heart hammering against my ribs, only to realize I was surrounded on all sides by tall, wooden bars. For a split second, the primal terror of being trapped took over and a small, pathetic yelp escaped my throat. Then, I remembered. The nursery. The experiment. I looked toward the source of the sound: a baby monitor sitting on the changing table, its little green light glowing like an unblinking eye. I felt my face turn a deep, shameful crimson. "Yeah," I croaked into the empty room, trying to find my dignity. "I’m fine. I just... I thought I saw a spider." It was a terrible lie. I wasn't even afraid of spiders, but "I was terrified of my own bed" felt much worse. "I’m coming in," she stated. It wasn't a request. I scrambled to sit up. Fortunately, I’d been so exhausted the night before that I’d fallen asleep in my t-shirt and jeans. The door opened, and Ms. Collins stepped in, looking fresh and professional. "I wasn't sure if you were going to be awake, so I hadn't started breakfast yet. Here, let me help you out of there." Before I could protest or reach for the railing, she walked over and tucked her hands under my armpits. With a sudden, effortless heave, she lifted me clear over the bars and set me on my feet. I was completely stunned. I wasn't a small guy, yet she had handled my weight like I was made of straw. She must have been spending some serious time at the faculty gym since she got this study approved. "Shower up, Josiah. Breakfast will be ready in ten minutes.," she commanded. I didn't argue. I just grabbed a fresh pair of clothes and headed for the bathroom. The morning air at MIT was crisp, and for the first time, I felt truly well-rested. My first lecture was an intensive look at the thermodynamics of protein folding. I sat in the back, scribbling down equations. The material was still a mountain, but the brain fog from the previous day had lifted. During a break between classes, I found a quiet bench to open the lunchbox Ms. Collins had pressed into my hands. I stared at the contents. She had gone all out: sandwiches cut into perfect stars, grapes and carrot sticks tucked into tiny, color-coded containers, and a little note that said 'Have a super day!' with a smiley face. "Nice lunch. Did your mom make that for you?" I jumped, nearly dropping a star-shaped ham and cheese. A girl was standing there, freshman, probably, wearing a yellow summer dress and a matching headband. She had a confident, teasing smile that made my heart do a weird little flip. "Kind of," I said, scratching the back of my head. "It’s my... landlord. She’s a bit of a perfectionist. She just makes me lunch for some reason." I desperately wanted to change the subject before she asked if there was a juice box at the bottom. "You’re not eating? You know, lunch is the most important meal of the day." "I thought that was breakfast," she countered with a puzzled grin. "Yeah… I just made it up. I was hoping you wouldn't challenge me on it." She let out a genuine, melodic laugh. "Oh, you men. Always thinking you’re the geniuses. I’m Anna, by the way." "Josiah. Nice to meet you." "Nice to meet you, Josiah. Look, if your landlord ever feels like making an extra star-sandwich, let me know. But for now, I’m going to swing by Subway so I don't miss out on the 'most important meal of the day.' See you around!" I watched her walk away, a goofy smile plastered on my face. A girl. A real, gorgeous girl had talked to me. Maybe life at MIT wasn't going to be so bad after all. When I got back to the staff building, the sight of the hallway didn't trigger the same panic. I walked into Ms. Collins' suite and called out, "I'm home!" She wasn't there yet, but a note sat on the dinner table: Hello Sweetie, I have a long day at the lab. I’ll be back at five. I bought a little something for you, it’s on my bed. See you later! I walked over to the bed and found a massive LEGO set: Princess Peach’s Castle. I knew exactly what she was doing. It was another "regressive" trigger, another move in her game. But as I stared at the box, I couldn't bring myself to be annoyed. I used to spend every birthday and Christmas building these. Somewhere between puberty and college, I’d traded my bricks for an air fryer and a sense of "maturity." I popped the box open. LEGOs are for adults too, I justified. By the time Ms. Collins walked through the door, I was deep in the zone, meticulously clicking the white bricks of the castle's first wing together. She walked up behind me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders in a soft embrace. "I see you already started without me," she teased. "I’m sorry," I mumbled, not looking up from the instruction manual. "I couldn't wait." "It’s okay, honey. I’ll get started on dinner. If you finish that section, I can help you with the rest later." Dinner was a blur of mashed potatoes and more "motherly" interrogation. "So, did you make any friends today?" she asked, pouring a generous extra helping onto my plate. "I met a girl. Anna. She seemed... nice." "Ooh, a girl?" She gave me a playful nudge. "Stop," I said, feeling my cheeks heat up. "She probably won't even remember me." "I highly doubt that," Ms. Collins said, her tone suddenly shifting into something more serious. "I spoke with the Dean today. She asked how the experiment was progressing." I nearly choked. I had almost forgotten that I was a data point. "And?" "I told her you were adjusting well. That you were... open to the process." she paused, her eyes making it clear that she was contemplating continuing. "Speaking of which… I was thinking about maybe adding a bedtime ritual. Nothing demanding.. Just... maybe that I read you a story?” I didn’t like the idea, but I also didn’t really care. If I was going to be here anyway, and she was going to watch me sleep... did it really matter? "Ehm... sure. I guess," I said. "But I can't promise I’ll stay awake for the whole thing." Ms. Collins beamed, a smile so wide it looked like she’d won the lottery. "Well, Josiah... that’s exactly the point." Chapter 6 - Pushing The Limits After dinner, Ms. Collins helped me click the final towers of Peach’s Castle into place. This time, I didn't need a mental pep talk to face the nursery. I walked in, climbed the steps, and pulled the weighted blanket up to my chin. It was starting to feel less like a surrender and more like a routine. "Would it be okay if I read you a story about dinosaurs tonight, Josiah?" she asked, already reaching for a thin, colorful book. "Sure." I honestly couldn't care less. Back home, I’d learned to sleep through the muffled roar of the TV in the next room and my parents’ bickering. A story about a Triceratops was just white noise to me. She began to read, her voice a steady, rhythmic hum. I didn't even try to follow the plot. Before the dinosaurs had even reached the watering hole, I was out cold. — Knock Knock "Good morning, sweetheart." The voice pulled me back to the world of wooden bars and pastel bunnies. I sat up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, only to find Ms. Collins standing over me, her hands on her hips and her mouth set in a disappointed pout. "Did you sleep in your clothes again, Josiah? You know it’s not very hygienic." "Well, I usually sleep in my boxers," I snapped back, my voice gravelly. "But what do you expect when you come barging in here every morning without a heads-up?" "Can you at least wear pajamas?" she countered, ignoring my bite. "I actually have a one-piece set that’s very nice. Breathable cotton, high quality." I rolled my eyes. "A onesie?" "If you don't like my choices, you're more than free to go out and spend your own money on pajamas, dear," she said, her tone perfectly level. I slumped back against the padding. I had exactly zero dollars to my name and even less energy to go shopping in a city I didn't know. "Fine. Whatever. I’ll take it." "Thank you, sweetie. Now hurry up and get changed. Breakfast in ten minutes." I started to push myself up, but before I could get my footing, those firm hands were under my armpits again. In one effortless, terrifyingly strong motion, she yanked me over the rail and set me on the floor. I didn't even have time to be embarrassed before she was out the door, leaving me standing there wondering if I was actually getting lighter or if she was just becoming superhuman. The lectures that day were a grueling marathon of complex variables and molecular structures, but today was also the first Lab session. I was partnered with a guy named Philip. He was mostly quiet, but when he finally did speak, he had this dry, cynical humor that felt like home. We didn’t exchange details, but I knew this wasn’t the last I’d be seeing of Philip. After classes I headed back to the staff building in a genuinely good mood. I was fitting in. I had a lab partner. I was surviving. "How was school, sweetie?" Ms. Collins called out the second the door clicked shut. "It was fine," I replied, leaning into my best 'bored teenager' impression. "Oh, come on. Nothing exciting? Did you talk to that, what was her name again?” "Anna, and no, didn't see her. But I got a new lab partner. Philip." "It’s good to hear you’re making connections," she said, walking into the living area. "You know, humans are social creatures, Josiah. In the academic world, it’s rarely the 'dumb' people who drop out, it’s the loners." I rolled my eyes. Leave it to Ms. Collins to turn a friendship into a psychological survival metric. "I actually bought you something today," she said, her voice dropping into a hesitant, careful register. I knew that tone. This wasn't going to be another LEGO set. "It’s a new cup," she said, offering a small, half-guilty smile as she held it out. "Is that a fucking sippy cup?" "Josiah! Language!" She snapped, pointing a sharp finger at my face. "Look, it’s essentially just a spill-proof water bottle. I don't see why this has to be a 'thing.'" "You’re not my mom!" I shouted, the frustration of the morning finally boiling over. "And I told you already, I’m not acting like a damn baby." "And I’m not asking you to!" she shouted back, her professional mask slipping just enough to show she was just as dug-in as I was. "Yesterday you had no problem playing with LEGOs or letting me read you to sleep. I don't understand why this is the hill you're choosing to die on." "Because this is different! You keep adding things! Every single day it’s something new. Do you really think I haven't noticed what you’re doing?" "Josiah," she said, her voice dropping back to a reasonable level. "Have I ever forced you to do anything?" I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. Technically, no. She hadn't. "I’m not going to force you now," she continued. "If you tell me, honestly, that a plastic cup is 'too much' for you, I will put it away right now." I hated her at that moment. She knew exactly what she was doing, framing my refusal as a sign of weakness or fear. "Fine," I hissed, snatching the cup from her hand. "I’ll use your stupid cup." "Thank you, Josiah. It really means a lot to me that you’re willing to be a part of the process." At dinner, the cup sat next to my plate. It was blue plastic with a soft spout. I tried it, and... it was fine. It functioned exactly like a water bottle. Honestly, if it had a 'Stanley' logo on it and was made of brushed steel, it would be considered a lifestyle accessory. I hated how much I didn't hate it. Later that night, as I prepared for bed, she handed me the "onesie" she’d mentioned. It was soft, thick cotton, but it was covered in characters from Bluey. "Really?" I asked, holding it up. "It’s breathable," she said simply. I didn't have the energy for a second fight. I put it on. It fit snugly, the fabric hugging me in a way that was undeniably comfortable. I climbed into the crib, the weighted blanket settled over my Bluey-covered chest, and Ms. Collins opened a book about a bear who lost his hat. As her voice began its nightly crawl into my brain, I let my mind wander. I thought about Philip, and Anna, and the way the stars looked over the MIT campus. By the time the bear found his hat, I was already drifting away, perfectly content in my snug, blue, wooden world. Chapter 7 - The Vagus Nerve The next day was another copy of the ones before it. I woke up to Ms. Collins barging in, I got dressed, I ate her breakfast, I sat through my lectures, and I ate my star-shaped sandwiches on the same wooden bench. But when I got home, the air felt different. I could tell she had something new up her sleeve, but she didn't reveal anything during dinner. I was almost starting to hope that she was done pushing the boundaries. But then, she opened the door to the nursery. My eyes went straight to the changing table in the corner. There, right next to the glowing green eye of the baby monitor, sat a large, yellow pacifier. My blood boiled. I opened my mouth to let the anger take form, but Ms. Collins cut me off before I could say anything. "Josiah, stop. I know exactly what you’re going to say. You’re going to give me the whole speech again about how you’re not a baby and how I’m pushing all these things on you." "Yeah, because you are!" I snapped. "Do NOT cut me off." Her voice rose to a level I hadn't heard before, a sharp, commanding tone that made my heart skip a beat. She took a breath, her expression softening but her eyes remaining firm. "As I was saying, I know how you feel. Which is why I didn't bring it up during dinner. I know how you feel about this whole thing, so I’m not going to push you." She gestured toward the table. "What I will say is that if anything in this entire regression experiment has been proven to work, it’s this. Why do you think every student at MIT has a chronic gum addiction? It’s because the rhythmic movement of your jaw activates the vagus nerve, calming the entire nervous system. So, I’m going to leave it right there. If you ever want to try it, you can do so on your own terms. Goodnight, Josiah." I felt my cheeks turning a deep shade of red. "I'm sorry." "That’s okay, sweetie," she said, her voice returning to that sweet, motherly hum. "But as I’ve already told you a million times already, I am not here to force you. I hope you know that." "I do," I whispered, looking down at my feet. "It’s just... every day it’s something new. I feel like I’m slowly losing myself." Ms. Collins stepped closer, her gaze filled with genuine compassion. "I know it’s different from what you’re used to, but none of this changes who you are. You’re still a brilliant young man studying Molecular Biology at MIT. None of this will ever change that." I hated how right she sounded. I climbed into the crib, feeling a small sense of victory that I hadn't succumbed to the yellow plastic on the table, and eventually dozed off. I woke up my mind racing with chemical structures from my morning lecture. I went to roll over, but noticed the flashy green numbers on the baby monitor. 2:23 AM. At the same time my eyes caught the silhouette of the pacifier sitting next to the monitor. For a split second, I wondered what it would be like. I quickly pushed the thought away and pulled the weighted blanket up to my chin. But I couldn't stop sleep I tossed and turned, the soft flannel sheets suddenly feeling too warm. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw that yellow shell. It felt like it was teasing me. I looked at the monitor again. 3:14 AM. I still had plenty of time before I had to get up. My heart began to race as if I were about to do something illegal. I raised myself out of the crib and reached out, picking up the pacifier. It felt strange in my hand, the plastic shell was hard and clinical, but the silicone was incredibly soft. I pinched it between my fingers, contemplating. She wouldn’t even have to find out, I reasoned. I can just try it for a minute and put it right back. I put it in my mouth. It took a few seconds to find a rhythm, but once I did, a wave of peace washed over me that I couldn't explain. I finally understood why babies fought so hard for these things. I lay back down, the rhythmic suction pulling me into a different dimension where MIT and my missing identity didn't matter. I didn't even notice my consciousness slipping. — "Aw, you look so cute!" The exclamation jolted me awake. I rubbed my eyes, trying to figure out what Ms. Collins was talking about. Then, I felt it. The weight in my mouth. The plastic against my lips. I spat it out immediately, my face on fire as I tried to act nonchalant. "Oh, yeah. I was just... trying it out to make you happy…” I paused thinking of an excuse “I don't really like it. It’s far too... you know." "Yeah?" she asked, her eyebrow arching with a playful curiosity. "You know... it’s just not my thing," I lied, the gravel in my voice betraying my embarrassment. "Well, alright sweetie," she said, a tiny, knowing smirk. "But I really am thankful that you at least gave it a try." The rest of the day was a blur of lectures, but during my Lab session, I caught a whisper from the group at the next table. "Hey, Philip," I whispered, leaning over the beaker. "Do you know what party they’re talking about?" "Yeah, Laura Chester is throwing one tomorrow night," Philip replied without looking up. "Are you going?" "No, no… I don’t even.. Who even is Laura Chester?" "I don't know, probably some freshman with rich parents who haven't had their house trashed by drunken idiots yet. I hear half of campus is going." I had never been much of a party animal, but the truth was, I hadn't seen Anna since that first lunch. I was getting desperate to find her again. If she was going to be there, I had to be there too. When I got home, Ms. Collins had a cheeky smirk on her face the whole time. She clearly felt like she’d won the battle of the pacifier, but I was determined not to let her win the war. At bedtime, I climbed into the crib and stubbornly refused to look at the changing table. I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. She read the usual story, her voice smooth and calm, but I stayed rigid under the blanket. Ms. Collins knew I was still awake. "Do you want the pacifier, Josiah?" she asked. I didn't answer. I kept my eyes closed and pretended to be asleep, even though I knew she was probably grinning. "Well, in case you change your mind, I’ll leave it here by the monitor again," she whispered. I gritted my teeth. Did she really think I was that weak? I lay there for what felt like hours. I was exhausted, but my brain wouldn't shut off. The silence of the room felt heavy, and my mind kept drifting back to the rhythmic, soothing calm of the night before. I fought it until I couldn't take it anymore. I reached out, grabbed the pacifier, and shoved it into my mouth. The relief was instantaneous. It was worth the humiliation, and less than a minute later I was fully asleep. — Knock. Knock. I woke up and immediately realized my mistake. I scrambled to hide the pacifier under my pillow just as the door opened. "Good morning, sweetheart." Ms. Collins looked at me, then her gaze drifted to the empty spot next to the monitor, then back to me. "Where’s the pacifier, Josiah?" "I don't know," I lied, my voice cracking. "Maybe it fell down or something?" "I don't see it anywhere," she said, her tone moving from cheerful to that disappointed, knowing maternal hum. "You know, you don't have to lie to me. I gave it to you for a reason. You don't have to hide it." I was never a good liar. I slumped back against the bars. "Fine. I used it. Happy now? But I only did it because I couldn't sleep!" The second the words left my mouth, I realized I’d accidentally admitted defeat. A slow, satisfied smile spread across her face. "Well, if that’s the case, then I think we’d better just continue using it. Right, sweetie?" I didn't want to admit how much I liked the idea, but I was tired of the act. "Fine," I muttered, trying to sound as disappointed as possible. Chapter 8 - The Last Stand The excitement of the party carried me through the rest of the day. I was convinced Anna would be there. After dinner, I started getting ready, combing my hair and splashing on the cologne I’d received for my seventeenth birthday. "And where are you headed off to?" Ms. Collins asked "A party," I replied. "Like a party, party? With alcohol?" Her voice was tight. I could tell she didn't approve. "Yeah, a normal college party” I replied with a cheeky smirk. "like those normal college students go to." "I’m sorry, Josiah, but I can't let you go. You know you’re not old enough to drink yet." The anger flared up instantly. Why did she always have to act like my mother? "I don't care what you think. You’re not my mom," I said, my tone cold and final. Before she could even process the words, I walked out and slammed the door behind me. The party was packed. The air smelled like sweat and cheap spirits. As I made it to the kitchen, a familiar arm wrapped around my shoulder. "Oh, hey, Genius!" Anna laughed. Her breath stank of alcohol, and her eyes were bright. "I didn't expect to see you here!" She remembered me. My heart raced. "Yeah, well... I heard things were going down. Thought I’d stop by." "Hey, have a drink with me," she said, handing me a plastic cup of yellowish punch. I’d never been drunk in my life, but I wasn't going to turn down a drink from her. I took a large sip. The alcohol burning my throat like fire. "Let’s dance!" she shouted, yanking me toward the living room. She was the main character of the room, moving effortlessly to the beat. I tried to mirror her, but I was stiff and awkward. After a few minutes, I pulled away to catch my breath and ran into Philip. "Hey, Joey! Didn't think you'd show!" he shouted over the music, handing me a tall shot glass of something clear. Against my better judgment, I downed it. It was horrible, but I wanted to fit in. I wanted to be the guy Anna wanted. I went back to her, but the world was starting to spin. "First time dancing, huh?" she grinned. She sat down and scooped us both more punch. Then she leaned in close, her voice a low murmur. "You know, if dancing isn't your thing, I know of another activity we could do..." My body screamed yes, but my mind screamed no. I wanted Anna, but I wanted her sober. I wanted it to be real. I pulled back and downed my drink instead. "Cheers, Anna." She got the hint. She stood up, her interest vanishing in an instant. "Anna, wait! Can I at least get your number?" She didn't even look back. I’d done the right thing, and the reward was a headache and a bruised ego. I decided to head home. By the time I reached the staff building, the alcohol had fully set in. My head was swimming, and my bladder was screaming for relief. I waddled to Ms. Collins’ door and tried the handle. Locked. I knocked frantically. "Ms. Collins! I really need to pee!" The door opened, and she stood there, looking at me with a cold, upset expression. "Are you drunk?" "Yeah," I admitted. There was no point trying to lie. "I seriously cannot believe you. You really think you can just go out partying against my orders and come back expecting me to just let you in?" "I'm sorry! Please, I just need the bathroom!" "I can't believe you," she said, slamming the door in my face. "Fuck," I whispered. I looked at the door to the nursery. I didn't want to do it. I told myself I wouldn't. But my bladder told me it was now or never. I burst into the nursery and scrambled to the changing table. It was stacked with diapers and pull-ups. I kicked off my pants and snatched a pull-up, dragging it on just as I lost control. The warmth was overwhelming. I watched in a daze as a dark yellow spot bloomed across the front, the pull-up sagging under the weight. "Ahem." I spun around. Ms. Collins was standing there, her arms crossed. "Get up," she commanded. "I—" "The changing table. Now," she said, her voice dropping into that strict, undeniable authority. She grabbed me by the armpits and hoisted me onto the table. I clutched at the waistband of the pull-up, trying to hide what I’d done. "Josiah, please," she said, her voice weary and disappointed. "Don't you think you’ve embarrassed yourself enough already?" I let go. I covered my eyes with my hands and began to cry, loud, ugly, drunken sobs. I felt her rip the sides of the pull-up open. I felt the cold air, the wet wipes, and then a generous dusting of baby powder. Before I could even catch my breath, I felt something soft being pressed into my mouth. The yellow pacifier. I didn't contest it. I sucked on it desperately, my sobs turning into hiccups. As I looked down, I saw she wasn't reaching for my boxers or even another pull-up. She had a thick, crinkly diaper with Bluey prints on it, the exact same print as my onesie. I wanted to ask for a plain one, but I knew it wouldn’t help my situation. I just watched as she slid it under me and taped the sides tight. My last shred of dignity disappearing in an instant. She leaned down and lifted me into a hug, one arm under my padded bottom, the other holding me tight against her chest. She rocked me until my crying stopped, before laying me in the crib. "Sleep now, Josiah," she whispered. I didn't fight her. I just closed my eyes and let the rhythm of the pacifier take me away. As Ms. Collins’ footsteps faded down the hall and the door clicked shut, the silence that rushed back in felt heavy, almost suffocating. I stared through the wooden bars at the green light of the baby monitor. A few hours ago, I had been Josiah Morris: MIT freshman, molecular biology student, a man who wore cologne and chased girls at parties. Now, I was in a crib, the thick, crinkly weight of the diaper between my legs a constant, humiliating reminder of my failure. The scent of my expensive cologne was still there, but it was being drowned out by the overwhelming smell of baby powder. I closed my eyes, a single tear escaping and dampening the flannel sheet. I reached down, my fingers brushing the crinkly plastic of the Bluey-printed diaper, as I slowly accepted the terrifying truth: I wasn't fighting the experiment anymore. I was becoming it.

Anna and Ryan are living life as best they can when blackballed from society. Things take an unexpected turn when there is a knock at the door. --- I'm only able to write as much as I do thanks to the amazing support of my readers. Writing is my only income and I appreciate everyone who reads my stories more than you all can imagine. If you enjoy my stories and want to see updates a week before everyone else PLUS read 35+ stories only available on my membership sites please have a look at the links below. All support is very gratefully accepted ❤️ https://reamstories.com/elfy https://subscribestar.adult/elfy --- A quick recap of the first story for anyone who needs it: Anna was left stranded in Sallas after her parents were killed in a car crash. Sallas is a place of extreme misogyny, that treats women as little more than babies and servants. Anna was adopted to a Sallasian couple and forced to grow up in this society, but she has always hated it and is desperate to escape. Forcibly married to Ryan, Anna's future seemed decidedly unpleasant as she joined him at college, not to attend classes, but as his trophy wife. That all changed when Ryan revealed that he hates Sallas as much as she does, and that he doesn't want to treat her badly. They tried to navigate college together, living as equally as they could at home whilst subjected to the extreme pressures to conform. Anna meets a friend, Jane, who is in a much worse marriage than her. Anna desperately wants to help Jane, but her options are severely limited. When Jane's husband gets tired of her, he has her sent away to Finishing School, something which devastates Anna who knows she will never see her friend again. Eventually it proved too much. Ryan was forced to choose between sending Anna to "Finishing School" (little more than a torturous prison) or being expelled from college and giving up his dreams of working in business. Ryan chose Anna. The two left college together with little idea as to where their lives will go... --- Sallas 2: The Gilded Cage By Elfy Anna was strapped to a pink plastic chair. Between her lips was a pacifier so large it filled her mouth and a strap going around her head held it firmly in place. She had the thickest diaper she had ever seen around her waist and the pink baby dress did nothing to hide it. Around her were a dozen other women similarly stuck in place and similarly dressed. She struggled but found movement difficult with such a huge amount of thickness between her legs. The room was filled with the muffled sounds of struggle and the smell of used diapers. Anna recoiled when she looked around at her neighbours before realising, she looked just as bad as they did it. Projected on to a screen in front of them all was a video. It was like a business training video but was showing the women in the playpen what they were supposed to be. A film of women doing domestic chores, shopping and being properly respectful of the men around them, In between frames Anna occasionally noticed a flash of a word, but she could never quite make out what it said. Made to look like a nursery the room felt like a strange bastardisation of a place that you would send your child. This nursery looked exactly like a child’s daycare at first look, but the longer you spent in there the more you noticed its true reason to exist. The uniformed guards by the doors, the cameras in each corner of the room, the books not being classic nursery rhymes but instruction manuals on how to do chores… Anna pulled harder against the restraints. As she stared at the video playing in front of her, she tried to remember how long she had been there. It felt like forever. Time had lost all meaning. Maybe she had simply always been there. Anna’s head lulled forwards slightly but the endlessly repeating images continued to appear in her mind. She tried to force them away, but they had a hold of her, they seemed to grab her head like tentacles as they pulled themselves closer and spread like a cancer. Her resistance became weaker as the words flashing up in the film became clearer. “Baby.” “Maid.” “Useless.” “Need Man.” Inside her head the last vestiges of who she once had been screamed but like water rushing through a cracked dam the words spread. Anna felt herself losing control of her bladder as if she had never been potty trained. The warmth spreading through her padding as the words cycled endlessly in her brain. All around her Anna could see the previously squirming women sitting docile as the guards walked up to each one with an injection. “No…” Anna mumbled around the pacifier. Suddenly it wasn’t a guard holding the needle. Anna turned and saw Jane standing before her in one of the guard uniforms, it bulged out around her waist from the hefty diaper underneath. Anna’s old friend stared at her with dead eyes and a flat emotionless face. “You left me…” Jane said as the needle was moved towards her arm, “You could’ve saved me.” Anna shook her head. The words were seeping in and her resistance crumbled completely. As the needle went into her arm and Jane pressed the plunger Anna screamed hopelessly. “Anna!” Anna was being shaken, and she sat up so fast she nearly butted heads with Ryan. She could feel that she was covered with sweat and was breathing hard. She instinctively grabbed her arm where the needle had been, there was nothing there. She took a few deep breaths and felt a familiar shameful wetness between her legs. “The nightmare again?” Ryan asked as she placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. Anna nodded before letting out a sob. Ryan pulled her closer to his shoulder as she cried softly. It had been a recurring nightmare for a while now. No matter how many times she ended up in that “Finishing School” it never felt any less real. It was stupid, she didn’t even know what the inside of one of those institutions actually looked like, her brain was just filling in the blanks with every horror it could conceive of. She felt Ryan pulling the cover back and revealing the wet patch on the bed. Anna had wet herself. “It’s OK.” Ryan whispered in Anna’s ear, “You’re safe.” “I’m sorry.” Anna said as she pulled away and wiped her eyes. “You don’t have to apologise.” Ryan replied, “You’re fine.” “I mean, I’m sorry for…” Anna gestured down to the wet patch. “Don’t worry about it.” Ryan smiled sleepily, “Why don’t you get cleaned up? I’ll change the sheets.” Anna slipped out of bed. She was naked as she stood up and the floorboard underneath her feet creaked loudly. The space between the bed and the wall was cramped meaning she had to awkwardly sidle out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards the bathroom. The apartment was small, old and, despite Anna’s best efforts, falling apart. The wallpaper Anna walked past was peeling, one of the windows was boarded up and she had to step around crack in the floor that seemed to threaten to fall through at the slightest hint of weight. In the bathroom Anna pulled on a long string that was hanging from the ceiling, the lightbulb flickered to life. The water heater for the building was broken so the water in the shower never warmed up. Anna shivered as she stepped under the showerhead. She wanted to get out of there as soon as possible so she quickly soaped herself up and rinsed herself off. She couldn’t shake the image of Jane from her head. Not long before Anna and Ryan had made their quick exit from the college Ryan had been attending, Jane had experienced an altogether less voluntary withdrawal. The closest person to a friend Anna had ever had, Jane had displeased her husband who had promptly sent her away to Finishing School. Anna had no idea what had happened to her but could guess it wasn’t good. People who went into those places were often not seen again, and those that re-appeared were unrecognisable to their old selves, and to their families. It had been ten months since they had moved into the apartment building. It had been the cheapest place that Ryan and Anna could find and even then was at the upper limit of what they could afford. After they left the college in disgrace, they knew they were going to be outcasts but perhaps they had underestimated just how bad things could be. Ryan had immediately started looking for work, but he had been blacklisted from even most menial jobs, even a cursory background search on him would’ve found black marks that made employers run away, things like “Dissident” and “Suspicious Individual.” All because he’d had the gall to not want to treat Anna like a second-class citizen. Things had become desperate before Ryan found a job in a call centre; it was the only place that would give him a chance. The money he was paid was only just enough to afford rent and bills, even food had become a bit of an extravagance. Despite the difficulties Ryan and Anna had remained close. In fact, they may have become closer than ever before in spite of the hardships they faced. The problem was that love can only get a person so far, the truth was they were desperately struggling with no support network and in a place with no safety net. There was no sign that things would get better either as both of their families had been quick to disown them. The worst part for Anna was the way Ryan was very clearly being crushed. His spirit and soul seemed to be ebbing away and every time he came home from work, he would look that bit more miserable. Anna found herself wondering if it hadn’t all been a terrible mistake, she sometimes wondered if Ryan resented her and wished he had chosen differently. After all, this was all because of her. If Ryan had sent her away, he would be an executive on his way to the top rather than stuck at the bottom living in a cold flat and eating the cheapest food. “Damn it.” Anna muttered as shivered into her towel after her shower. The nightmares were awful and happened twice a week or so. She had never been to the dreaded Finishing School so her mind was conjuring up something that may not even have existed. The worst part for Anna was the effect it had on her bladder. Having been potty trained so recently she usually didn’t have too many problems as long as a toilet was nearby, but wetting the bed was a common result of her bad dreams. Ryan hadn’t brought up wearing “protection” to bed, but she knew he must be thinking about it, they couldn’t exactly afford to replace their mattress. Diapers were something she was only too used to, having only recently been able to get out of them she dreaded having to go back for any reason whatsoever. Anna knew she wasn’t going to get any more sleep. She slipped on her dressing gown and walked through to the living room. The flat was a lot smaller than the place they had stayed in at college and the living room was the best example of this lack of space. An old television was against the far wall, a wooden table with a bent leg in the middle of the room and just beyond that a couch that had numerous holes in it. Anna sat on the couch and flicked on the television. The morning news was on. The problem with the news in Sallas was that it was nearly impossible to tell what was real or fake, the propaganda was so rife that seeing through it became very difficult. The presenter was excitedly telling his audience about Sallas’s economy doing well and suggesting it was because there weren’t any “distractions” in the workforce. “Distractions” was clearly a code word for women as they showed short clips from various office and factories extolling the virtues of their society. Anna could only roll her eyes. It was all so transparent, she found it hard to believe anyone fell for their crap. In any other country Anna would be in one of those offices or laboratories. She knew she was smart but at no point had any of that intelligence been nurtured, she had never been given the opportunity to show what she could do. She never would get that chance either, not whilst she was where she was, when she was who she was. She tried not to dwell on her lost potential, but it was difficult. Anna went over to the drawers in the corner and retrieved a tattered old book. She brought it back to the couch and opened the frayed cover. There she looked at herself from long ago, back before her parents had died, leaving her stranded in the hell that was Sallas. She thought she looked a lot like her mother, but she had her father’s eyes for sure. Her photo album of her as a baby was practically all that had survived the car crash that had killed her parents. She remembered so little about them. “… And finally, a reminder of this morning’s big story.” The newscaster said as Anna turned the page, “A number of civil disruptions around the country last night forced the police to crackdown on some undesirables and dissenters. A spokesman for the government said the ringleaders had been rounded up and that there is no cause for alarm.” Anna changed the channel. There was a morning talk show on one of the more rabidly pro-government channels. A man was practically frothing at the mouth as he ranted and raved that women were still too free. Anna shook her head, to some men in Sallas the very idea that a woman might have an independent thought was enough to send them into an apoplectic rage. “… I’m telling you they will be the downfall of us all!” The balding pudgy man said. His spit flew across the table as he angrily dropped his fist against the surface. “Whilst I agree any idea of, pardon my language, feminism, is abhorrent to our society I’m not sure what you would like the government to do…” A more professional looking man replied. His suit was wrinkle-free, and he didn’t have a single hair out of place. The so-called “moderate.” “For a start we could make Finishing School mandatory.” The angry man replied, “Get these girls out of the school system and teach what they really need to know early. Stamp out these ridi-” Anna changed the channel. Whilst she was used to hearing men attacking women for every ill in society the ideas being expressed on that show were just too horrifying to think about. Finishing School was essentially a prison designed to brainwash women into being good little girls, it was currently used as punishment for women that didn’t conform perfectly, the idea of sending all females there made Anna shudder. The next channel was for children. To be more accurate it was for little boys. Anna watched as two puppets talked to a group of little boys sitting in front of them. “And a girl, even an itty-bitty little girl the same age as you…” The puppet dog’s paw pointed at the children in front of him. He had a deep authoritative voice and was the face of one of the most popular children’s brands in Sallas, “Can be a very a dangerous thing.” “But how can an itty-bitty little girl be dangerous?” The second puppet seemed modelled on a mouse. He spoke with a back-country twang to his voice that Anna supposed was to make him sound less intelligent. “Because they are naughty.” The dog puppet replied seriously, “They are always looking for ways to get boys in trouble. It’s why it’s important for all you little boys to…” “Report bad behaviour!” The children all chorused. “That’s right!” The puppet dog nodded, “To your Daddies, teachers, or local govern-…” Anna turned the television off. She laid down on the cushions of the couch with her head resting against the arm. She hadn’t planned to drift off but suddenly came to when she heard Ryan’s footsteps coming down the hallway. He paused at the entrance to the living room for a second before heading into the kitchen. The sun was just starting to rise giving the sky outside a red glow. Anna sat up and stretched as Ryan came walking back in with two mugs of coffee. “I’ve got some eggs and bacon cooking.” Ryan said as he put the mugs down on the table. “Shouldn’t you be watching it?” Anna asked as she yawned, “You could start a fire.” “In this place?” Ryan shrugged, “Could be an improvement.” Anna laughed as she picked up her drink. It tasted cheap, which of course it was. Unlike when they were supported by Ryan’s parents, they couldn’t afford to spend much on luxuries. The cheapest store-brand instant coffee was still pushing the boat out for them. Soon they were sitting in the living room eating their breakfast. They didn’t really have a lot to talk about, but Anna was happy in the silence. If anything was brought up, she felt sure it would be her nightmare and what had happened as a result of it. The silence was much better than that particular conversation. “I suppose I should get ready.” Ryan sighed as he stood up. Anna did the washing up whilst Ryan had a quick shower and then got dressed in his suit. He came into the kitchen where the married couple shared a little kiss before he broke away with a smile, his hand came up and cupped Anna’s cheek. They had been getting a little more intimate since leaving college, they certainly hadn’t jumped straight into bed with one another, but they were becoming more romantic over time. It was just hard for Anna to let herself get carried away, part of her was still waiting for the penny to drop and for Ryan to send her away so he could get on with a much better life than the one he had with her. It was nonsense, of course, Ryan had been given plenty of opportunities to give Anna up and had never done so. “I’ll try to be back as soon as I can.” Ryan said, “Do we need anything for dinner?” “I think we’re alright for tonight.” Anna replied. It was slightly ironic that Anna and Ryan had been ostracised from society because of their resistance to Sallas’s extreme gender roles because now, in some small ways, they found themselves conforming to them. Whilst Ryan worked Anna looked after the home which meant doing most of the cooking and cleaning. It only seemed fair that she help out since Ryan had to work so much, and as difficult as it was for Ryan to find his job, it would’ve been impossible for Anna. “I’ll see you later.” Ryan sighed and tried to put on a brave smile. “Have a good day.” Anna replied. “You too.” Ryan’s smile was a bit more genuine now. Just as Ryan was turning to head to the front door there was a loud knock followed by the ringing of a doorbell. Ryan froze in his tracks. Anna hurried forwards and peered around the doorframe as if expecting to see something other than the front door. There were many reasons for Ryan and Anna to be nervous. They kept to themselves, not many people would associate with people that had been labelled as undesirables and those that would weren’t people Anna wanted to know. Neither of them had made any friends of acquaintances in the area so the fact there was someone at the door filled them both with dread. “Did you pay the rent?” Anna whispered to Ryan. “We’re only one month behind…” Ryan muttered in reply, “Jean doesn’t normally start knocking unless it’s three months.” “Then who is it?” Anna hissed. Ryan shrugged at her and then they both turned to the door. There were more bangs and insistent rings of the bell. Whoever it was, they were fairly insistent that they were going to be coming in sooner rather than later. “W-Who is it?” Ryan called from the safety of the kitchen doorway. “Open the door, Mr. Manning.” A deep voice replied. “Not unless you tell me what you want.” Ryan called back. “How about you open the door before we get impatient.” The voice replied. Anna tried to hold Ryan back as he went to step forwards. He turned to face her and shrugged, he was right, there was nowhere for them to run or hide. They didn’t know who was at the door, but it seemed like they were going to come in one way or another. Anna followed Ryan out but stayed several steps behind. Ryan opened the door, and Anna could see two men in suits on the other side. They pushed past Ryan and walked in as if they owned the place. Anna didn’t like the way they looked at her and smiled. Ryan closed the door as the two walked into the living room. Anna was tensed up, she didn’t know why these people were there, but she was ready to fight for her life if she needed to. “You see, Jimmy, didn’t I tell you she was beautiful.” The man doing the talking had snow white hair. His small nose seemed almost swallowed by his glasses that did little to hide a pair of very piercing eyes. “That you did.” Replied the younger of the two men. He was chewing gum and was leering at Anna. “Who are you?” Ryan asked. “Jimmy.” The older man said with a dismissive wave, “But you can call me Mr. Sawyer.” Anna watched as the intruder present a piece of paper to Ryan. As he did so the older man sat down on the couch. He waited a few seconds whilst Ryan looked over the paper, in the meantime the younger man walked over to Jimmy, who Anna suspected was his boss, and stood next to him. The whole time Ryan was reading neither of the intruders took their eyes off Anna. “I don’t think I understand…” Ryan finally said as he looked up with a frown, “What is this?” “That.” Mr. Sawyer said without turning from Anna, “Is a contract.” --- If you want to see what happens next RIGHT NOW you can do so at one of the following links. Thank you, and all support is very gratefully received: https://reamstories.com/page/lpjgftb4y2/story/mf967rdsf7db10/chapter/mfjaqi124bff3c1 https://subscribestar.adult/posts/2066849

I tried to write a new story, and I hope you like it. I would appreciate it if you came with comments and aides. I hope you enjoy it. The story has non-sexual thins involved. the short story is about an 8-year-old boy who has started to struggle with bedwetting. It doesn't get any better when his sister finds out and wants revenge for something he did to her. ————— Tobias summer vacation The sunlight streamed through Tobias' windows, directly on his face. With summer vacation in full swing, he enjoyed lounging and stretching without school restrictions. His eyes widened, and he became more awake as he noticed something was wrong. His eyes suddenly stopped moving and widened as a terrifying thought gripped him. His hand slowly began to reach out, feeling under the cover of darkness. Tobias froze when his terrifying thoughts became a reality: he had wet the bed again. He got scared and called his mother without thinking. “Mom!” The sound of steps came through him, and the door to his room opened. “Good morning, sleepy head; everything alright? “ said his mom. His eyes started to get wet; tears began to roll down his skin. “What’s wrong, honey?” said his mom. Tobias lay in bed, sobbing, trying to explain what had happened. Unable to speak, he removed the blanket to reveal his wet bed to his mother. As she looked at it, her eyes filled with compassion and understanding. “Oh, have you had an accident again? Poor thing. That can happen to the best; shower, and I'll take care of your bed.” said his mom. Tobias felt embarrassed, but his mother gave him a warm smile. “Go take a warm shower, and then meet me for breakfast,” his mom said. Tobias walked in his wet pajamas to the bathroom for a refreshing shower, enjoying warm water running down his body. He exited the shower to find that his mother had left a towel with Lego Ninjago characters. Tobias dried himself and returned to his room. His mother had already laid out underpants, shorts, and a T-shirt on his freshly made bed. He descended the stairs and found his two older sisters already sitting, eating breakfast. His sisters Maria and Andrea played with their phones while eating and didn't notice Tobias coming. Maria was an 18-year-old girl who spent much time at work and with her friends and wasn't home much. Andrea was a 15-year-old girl who always got what she wanted, regardless of the consequences for others. She was tired of all the attention the little brat always got and was looking forward to spending the summer with her friends. The girls loved their parents, and although they didn't despise their little brother, they loved him but found his constant attention and spoiled nature particularly annoying. The girls always enjoyed teasing Tobias because he was much shorter than the other children his age. Sometimes, the girls would take Tobias out to play and often met strangers who mistook him for a younger child. Once, Tobias was mistakenly taken to the kindergarten when a teacher mistook him for a little child. Tobias prepared a breakfast mix and placed the bowl on the table before setting up his highchair. Tobias always found it so embarrassing that he had to use a high chair instead of sitting on an adult chair. However, he knew using a highchair was better than sitting on his knees. Their mother sat down with her children and relaxed with a cup of coffee before she broke the silence. “So kids, what's your plans today?” said his mom. Maria put the phone down and looked over to her mother. “I have work and then some plans with my friends. We will drive to the beach; a friend will pick me up soon.” Andrea glanced at Maria and rolled her eyes before speaking, "I'm going to hang out with some friends." His mother smiled at her daughters, took another sip of her coffee, and leaned closer to chat more quietly with Tobias. “Did you go to the washroom with the wet pajamas?” his mom asked. The girl's eyes filled with curiosity as they listened to their mother's whispering voice. Andrea burst into laughter before responding. “Has the baby wet the bed again? Maybe you should consider using diapers on him again, like babies need, Mom!” Andrea said. Tobias turned red with embarrassment as he heard the mocking laughter and hurtful words. He wasn't a baby, an 8-year-old kid who wanted to yell back at them, but he knew his mother would get angry from arguing. Tobias took control of his frustration and quietly ate his food while looking down. Maria giggled and laughed with her sister until their mother looked at them sternly. "Now that's enough, girls. You can leave the table," their mom said. His mother looked at him with an expression of love but also concern. “Don't listen to those girls. Now I'll clean up; the kitchen looked like a mess.” said his mom. Thinking raced through her head while she got up and walked to the kitchen to clean up. She wondered why he had started wetting the bed at night. She planned to talk to her husband and schedule a doctor's appointment when he came home. Tobias finished his food and gave his mother his plate before returning to his room. He sat down on his rug and opened his drawers full of Legos. Time flew by as he built with all the Lego bricks he had. Without him noticing, someone began brushing his hair. Tobias turned and was happy to see his father bending down behind him. "Daddy, you're home!" “Hi, champ! Had a good day?” his dad said. Tobias smiled as he saw his father sit down on the bottom to play with the Legos with him. "Do you want to join me for a little play, Daddy?" As they chatted about the day, his father built a little with his son. “When do you have a vacation, Dad?” “I don't have any holiday yet, but we'll manage. So, Mom told me about what happened last night. Is there anything that has happened that you want to talk about? It's been a while since you used to wet the bed at night.” said his dad. Tobias sat quietly and said nothing as he poked at the Lego. "I don't know, Dad. It just happened. I'm sorry." "It'll be fine, champ. It'll probably just be a bad night." his dad said. His father got up and left the room to talk to his wife. A little worried, he looked back at his son before he disappeared and went downstairs. He sat beside his wife, tired from a long day at work. She had put some dinner in the oven, which would soon be ready. "I asked Junior why he had wet the bed several times. He didn't know." his father said. She looked over at him with a worried look. "It has happened too often to be just an accident, and I soon won't have any bedwear left. No, we need to take him to a doctor. I will call them tomorrow." the mother said. She got up and started setting the table. Tobias came down the stairs simultaneously with his mother, who had just put lasagna on the table. “Tobias, can you tell your sisters it is time for dinner?” his mom said. Tobias nodded and ran up the stairs to his sisters. He knocked on the door and waited until Maria said he could come in. "It's dinner," he said, running to Andreas' room. He knocked on the door but got no answer. He tried again, but there was still no response from her. Tobias opened the door and entered the room. He studied all the drawings and figures she had created. Suddenly, he heard her voice behind him. "What are you doing in my room? Who said you could walk into my room, your little bed wetter? If it was up to me, would I put you back in diapers? It was so funny at school when you were mistaken for a kindergarten kid, and the funniest thing is that you don't look any older than one,” Andrea said mockingly. Tobias looked at her with an angry look. He wasn't a kindergarten kid; he was a big kid. “I'm not a baby! I'm a big kid!” Andrea burst out laughing as she could see his face became red. “Are you a big kid? You could be mistaken for a toddler in the right clothes, considering you are still wet in the bed. Real big kids don't wet their beds. You would have looked adorable in diapers and some childish clothes,” said Andrea as she laughed. Tobias became angry and red as he ran out of her room and into his room. He buried his face down into his bed pillow with anger. He wanted to tell his mother how much Andrea had teased him; this wasn't fear. But the more he thought about it, the more afraid he became that his mother would think it would be a good idea to put him back in diapers. Tobias cooled down and walked to join the others for dinner. “Hay, champ, you disappeared a little. Is everything okay?” his father asked with a slightly concerned tone. Tobias tried to keep his smile up but said nothing as he sat in his chair. He and his sisters giggled as they whispered to each other before Andrea spoke. "He must have been late to the table for another accident," said Andrea as the girls giggled. Their parents were visibly displeased by Andrea's choice of words and directed stern looks at her. Both girls immediately fell silent, focusing solely on their meals. Tobias felt embarrassed and ashamed at how the girls treated him. As they ate, the conversation turned to discussing their respective days, but Tobias remained silent, his mind unable to shake off the hurtful words his sister had used. Despite not being as tall or physically developed as others his age, Tobias resented being treated like a little child. He ate his food and looked over at his mom. “May I be excused from the table?” “Of course you can.” said his mother. He cleaned his table and returned to his room, still irritated by what the girls had said of him. Time passed as he looked at the TV in his room, and his mother came in. “It's time for bed, young man. Brush your teeth and come back; we need to talk,” his mother said in a warm tone. He walked to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and went to the toilet before he came back. His mother was still sitting on his bed, waiting for him, holding his pajamas in her hand as he walked inside his room. He came to his mother, removed his clothes, and took on the pajamas before lying on the bed. “So, young man, I have spoken to your father. You have an appointment at the doctor's tomorrow. There have been too many bedwetting accidents,” his mom said calmly but in a loving tone. Tobias' face became scared, and he didn't want to go to any doctors. “Why, I promise to stop with the wetting.” “I'll make you a deal: If you behave well tomorrow, I will take you to your favorite ice cream shop. Is that okay?” his mom said. He smiled as his mother ruffled his hair and left the room. His dad walked by, gave him a wink. "Good night, champ; see you tomorrow." his dad said. The door closed as Tobias lay down and thought of the morning. His eyes became heavy, and he fell asleep. As the sun came through his window, Tobias's eyes opened; he soon felt something was wrong; he had done it again—his bed was wet. He walked out of his bed and took a shower before he took some clothes. His sister wasn't up yet, but his mother sat with a coffee. “Good morning, young man. Are you first up today? How did the night go?” said his mom. He looked at the ground, and his mother understood the answer. She came and hugged him. “It's okay. I'll fix your wet bed, and you can wake your sisters.” said his mom. He smiled and strolled over to Andrea's room. As he approached, he noticed that her door was slightly ajar. Peeking inside, he saw Andrea putting some beer into her backpack. Tobias made a misstep; his sister shouted his name as he sprinted to his mother. Upon her mother's coming, she promptly unzipped the bag, and Andrea looked at Tobias with intense hatred. “What is this? Beer! Maria, where have you got a beer from?” their mother shouted sternly. Andrea cast a sympathetic glance her mother's way while their mother fell silent as her eyes fixed on her watch. “I forgot we have a doctor's appointment, Tobias. Come. And you, young lady, I'll deal with you later,” said their mother sharply. As their mother walked away, Tobias began to turn when Andrea grasped his arm firmly. “Now listen, little pee boy. You will regret this," while Andrea's expression could terrify anyone. Andrea releases him, and he runs to his mother, who is waiting in the car with her phone. Tobias tries to tell his mother what Andrea did, but she talks with Dad about the beer. Tobias sits back and looks out the windows as they drive away. After a drive, they park the car in a parking garage and walk into a building. It feels like an eternity for Tobias to walk fast, but they make it just in time. His mother placed him on a chair as she stood in line to announce their arrival. Tobias walked over to some cool toys and started to play. A young nurse came by Tobias. “Hello there, little man. I think these toys are for big boys, but you can play with this once over here.” the nurse said with a smile. He looked over at the young nurse who had found some toys for daycare children. “There you go, have fun.” the lady said as she walked away. He became red in his face and irritated. He was not a daycare baby; he was a big kid. He returned to his mother, who had sat in the waiting room. His mother took his hand and sat beside him as they waited for their turn. The nurse came and said Tobias' name; his mother looked at him and took his hands. They walked into the man who sat in the doctor's office. He smiled and raised his hand to greet them. “Good day. I am Doctor Brown. What can I do for you?” As his mother started talking to the doctor, Tobias sat a little scared. As he looked at a picture of a girl the same age as Andrea, Tobias began to think nervously about what Andrea said before he ran to the car. Was it wrong to tell Mom about the beer? Is it okay to drink? He hired the doctor, said his name, and Tobias looked at him. “Don't be worried, Tobias. We will check everything to see if something is wrong with you, young man.” the doctor said. He rose and showed how they would take some tests. It felt like an eternity with all the testing and things the doctors wanted to do, but Tobias always returned to the incident with his sister. The look on her face was so angry and mean, and it did not look good; he felt afraid. Tobias had come back from his thoughts. He realized he now sat and waited outside in the waiting room to return to the doctor's office. At the same time, his name was up. They sat down with the doctor. He started with the easy words that they could not find anything wrong with him; he had to be immature in his body. He was small for his age, and Tobias looked wans again at the picture of the girl, which reminded him of what Andrea had said. It wasn't funny that the nurse had mistaken him for a little child. His mother raised her hand and thanked the doctor as they walked out. She looked a little worried when they walked away from the doctor. She looked at him and said she needed to stop by the store for supplies. Tobias followed along as his mother picked out the food and supplies required. His mother took a long time to look at something. He looked up and got red in the face. She was looking at diapers! “Mom! What are you doing? I don't need diapers; that is for small babies.” She lifted something into the trolley as she looked over at him. “Don't worry; it's just a safety measure. It will be our little secret. Didn't you hear the doctor say we should use protection at night? Also, it's difficult for me to change your bed every day. I had enough this morning with Andrea and the doctor. Please stop acting like a baby. It's not diapers; it's pull-ups, but if you act more like a baby, maybe I should take diapers instead!” his mother said, irritated. They had walked back to the car and were on their way home. Tobias mined raced, being mistaken for a little child; now he had to use pull-ups! They parked the car, and his mother opened the car door for him. They walked inside with all the groceries and the pull-ups. He walked in silently and into his room. He started to play some TV games as time began to fly. He heard his mother and her talking down stars, not in a great tone, and suddenly, she called out everyone's names and told them to come down. When Tobias came downstairs, Andrea sat on the sofa with an angry look and her arms crossed. His mother smiled at him with a loving tone. “Now, Andrea, Dad is going on a business trip. I don't want to sit at home, so Tobias and you will drive with me to my sister.” said their mom. Andrea became red in anger. “What about my friends? I need to be home!” said Andrea, irritated as her mother looked sternly back at her. “Now you listen, young lady. I told you that Maria needed to work so she would be home, but you would be with me and your brother. We are leaving tomorrow for my sister, and you will not be angry about it. This is entirely your fault. Now behave,” said their mom in a stern tone at her. Andrea was so upset about going on this stupid trip with her mother and little pee brother and not seeing her friends. She blamed Tobias for the whole situation! "Is my cousin Sofia there, at least?" Andrea asked. Here, Mother smiled back at her. “Yes, and so is Sam.” said his mom. Andrea just rolled her eyes and spoke silently. “Sam? He’s four, isn't he? He's just another baby but a good play buddy for Tobias.” Her eyes lit up like fire as she repeated it. “Yes, a good play buddy for Tobias,” she said as her smile grew. Tobias got worried about what Andreas's eyes shoved. Whatever she was thinking, this can't be good. “So, we are leaving tomorrow morning. Your father has to leave on a business trip tonight. Andrea and Tobias, go and pack your bags; we are leaving early tomorrow." said their mom. Tobias runs upstairs to pack his bag of toys. His mother comes upstairs with a bag and starts to pack his clothes. She has almost finished packing when she turns to him and looks him in the eyes. “I need to go downstairs, Tobias. Can you pack some underwire in your bag?” He proudly smiled at his mother as she walked out of his room and downstairs. He had put all his underwear in the bag and walked out of his room to get some things from the living room. As he came back upstairs into his bedroom, Andrea walked out with a backpack over her shoulder. “What are you doing in my room?” said Tobias. Andrea smiled at him. "Sorry, I'm just looking for you. Are you looking forward to traveling and visiting our aunt? It will surely be fun for you to play with Sam. He is probably four now, I think," Andrea said. Tobias became irritated by her foolish comments. "Why would I play with a baby? That is four. I'm a big kid,” said Tobias. “Yeah, he's four, but you are no taller than he is and don't look much older. With the right clothes, you can easily be mistaken for a 4-year-old little bedwetter you are. Mom should have bought diapers for you.” said Andrea. Tobias felt his face turn red as she threw humiliating words at him. Despite his attempts to protest and set her straight, she continued with her hurtful remarks as he walked by and slammed his door. Dinner was a bit sad. Andrea had been a lousy sister that day, and Dad was leaving for a work trip. The dinner felt slow, and time seemed to drag on. After going to the bathroom to brush his teeth and quickly visit the toilet, he returned to his room feeling a little unsettled. His mother was sitting on the bed, waiting for him. “Remember our discussion about protection?” said his mom. His eyes bulged, and his face turned red as he confidently approached his mother. “Mom, please, I don't want to wear it. Babies like Sam use diapers, not big kids,” he told his mom. His mother becomes irritated and drags him to the bed, but she offers him a warm smile before speaking. “Listen, first of all, it's not a diaper; it's a pull-up. Second, I don't have any more bed covers as they're not dry after all the wetting. Third, waking up in a wet pull-up is better than waking up in a wet bed. So, please take off your clothes and let me help you. If you're good, I'll let you watch some more TV in your bed.” said his mom. Tobias started to take off his shirt and pants, but he got a little slower when it came to his underwear; his lust was not in him. His mother gently helped him take it off. She found a white pull-up with some Paw Patrol drawings at the front. She opened it so Tobias could put his feet into it. She dragged the pull-up until it was in its place and checked that everything was in its place. He looked down and saw the soft but thick pull-up between his legs, which made keeping his feet together more challenging due to his spread-apart legs. Looking at the pull-up, he saw the paw patrol in the front. He thought it was better than diapers. His mother walked to his drawer to get a pajama top and pants. Suddenly, Tobias heard a familiar laugh behind him. He closed his eyes in shame and turned to see Andrea entering. “Now, have you seen? Mom followed my advice and put the little toddler back in a diaper.” As Andrea patted his back, Tobias blushed with embarrassment. His mom handed Tobias his pajamas and gave Andrea a stern look. “Now listen, Andrea. Tobias' doctor suggested using some protection. It's not a diaper; it's a pull-up. So let your brother be," said their mom. Andrea smiled with pride as she walked out. She started to talk silently: “The little brat is already back in his diaper. This will make my plan a lot easier. He ruined my summer, but my revenge will be satisfying. I need to talk to my cousin Sofia. I'm not finished with Tobias yet. she said as she walked to her room. Tobias' mother kissed him and walked out of his room. Tobias took his clothes on. Feeling something between his legs was strange, and he made a little bowel in the front. He watched some TV and, after a while, fell asleep. Tobias wakes to his mother's hands touching him. His eyes open to see his mother's warm smile. "Good, you're up, and you're not wet. I'm so proud of you." his mom said. He was about to leave bed, but his mother stopped him. Before she spoke, her face looked a little concerned. "Hey there, since it's still early, you'll probably doze off in the car because we have a long drive ahead. Please keep your pull-up diaper on while we're driving, just in case you have an accident. It would be very tiring for me if there were any accidents in the car while we're on the road." said his mom. Tobias's face became red with sadness. "Keep my pull-ups on? But I don't wet myself at day?" he said in frustration. His mom looked a little concerned before she looked down. He started to feel guilty. "Okay, Mom. I will wear the pull-up diaper for you." Her face smiled back at him with pride. "You are amazing for being so considerate of others. Your selflessness is admirable, and I hope your sister can learn from your example. From you. Now take your bag to the garage." said his mother. Tobias's mother excused herself from the room as he put on his pants over the pull-up diaper. Putting on his pants proved challenging, resulting in a slight bulge in the front and a curve in the back. To conceal the diaper, he put on a hoodie and picked up his bag before heading towards the car in the garage. As he stooped to set down his bag, a familiar and unexpected voice broke the silence—Andrea's voice. "Stop right there," she said as her steps came closer. As she crept up behind him, he could feel the warmth of her breath on the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine. Every step she took seemed to echo in the silence as he anxiously wondered what she was after. Her hand moved slowly, almost hesitantly, as it reached out to touch him. She paused before him, gently raising his chin with her index finger while fixing him with a stern gaze. "I think it's wise for the baby to have his diaper on." His heart races as she stares into his eyes sternly. He becomes so afraid that he tenses up and wets his pull-up. His eyes widen with fear as the pull-up starts to swell. It was the most terrifying feeling he had ever felt. Andrea laughs at him and looks down at him with contempt. "Looks like someone needs a diaper change. It seems like you've wet your diaper. Let's go find Mom and get you changed." As they left the garage, her infectious laughter filled the air, intertwining with their footsteps. Tobias felt his heart racing with fear as they approached their mother. Andrea hid her smile and looked concerned as she glanced at her mother. "Excuse me, Mom, but Tobias had an accident, and I believe he needs a diaper change," Andrea said with a concerned expression as she looked at her mother. Their mother's face looked concerned at Tobias before she bent down to her knees, her hand stroking over his hair. "Common little one, let's change that diaper." Tobias's expression soured as a wave of embarrassment washed over him. His mother mentioned the word "diapers" instead of "pull-ups" as she gently took his hand and guided him back to his room. Once there, she swiftly removed his pants and pull-up diaper, leaving Tobias feeling utterly mortified and unable to speak a single word. She quickly swapped out the used pull-up for a fresh one and efficiently helped him back into his clothes. Before leaving, she kissed his cheek tenderly, gazing at him with love. "It's alright, little one; there's no need to feel embarrassed. Now, let's get on our way." his mother said. As she gracefully exited the room, he was left standing there, feeling the weight of humiliation from the recent events. He reached out to switch off the light before going downstairs for a quick breakfast. The morning meal was hurried, and they soon stood inside the garage. As Tobias was about to settle into the car, his sister Andrea looked at their mother. "Mom, maybe we should consider using Tobias's old car seat for the upcoming long drive. You know there have been a lot of police checks lately, especially after that terrible accident involving the child who wasn't properly secured in their seat. Even though Tobias is eight years old, he's still on the shorter side. I want to make sure he's safe, and of course, I'm also concerned about your license, Mom," Andrea said with a worried expression as she looked at her mother. Tobias' eyes got more extensive, and his face became red. "No, Mom, you can't be serious!" His mother gazed at him with quiet intensity. Afterward, she shifted her gaze back to Andrea, and her hand gently caressed Andrea's skin. "You're completely right, Andrea. I hadn't considered that. You take such good care of your brother. I'm worried about your father traveling. I'm grateful to have you, Andrea, to care for things." Their mother left the car and found Tobias's old car seat. She opened his door and looked at Tobias. As his mother hooked up the seat, he shamed out of the car. His sister smiled evilly at Tobias as their mother walked out. Without asking, she lifted Tobias, put him in his child's seat, fastened him with a belt, and fiddled with the car door before she closed it. She sighed a little and leaned into the driver's door. "I'm sorry. I need to visit the bathroom. Just stay; I won't be long." As she quickly vanished from sight, Andrea looked at Tobias with pride. She left the car and opened the trunk to find something, Tobias thought. She came back and sat down as he looked sternly at her. "Now, don't give me that look, Tobias. You know it's important to ensure that babies are securely strapped into their car seats," his sister teased him. As Tobias was on the verge of responding, his mother arrived. Opting for silence, he gazed out the window as they departed from the garage. The morning sun shone warmly on the windowpanes as the car pulled away. As they continued their journey, a significant distance had been covered when Tobias's eyes slowly opened. He had nodded off and fallen asleep during the drive. Beside him lay a bottle of water and something to eat. His mom smiled back at him from the mirror. "Good morning! Did you have a restful sleep? I quickly stopped to pick up some refreshing drinks and something to eat for you. We'll be reaching our destination in no time now." said his mother. As he started to wake up, he noted something wasn't right; he had wet himself again. The pull-up had swelled up in the front, and it didn't get any better. He needed to pee. He tried to be calm, but it got more difficult. The feeling of having to go to the bathroom began to push more and more. "Mom, I need to go to the bathroom." His mom glanced at him in the mirror and replied. "I apologize, but I can't pull over right now. We're expected to reach our destination in fifteen minutes. You're more than capable of managing that," his mother reassured him. Tobias sat uneasily in his seat, attempting to calm his nerves. Despite his efforts, he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease. Through his struggle, he noticed Andrea casting glances in his direction, adding to his discomfort. Her smile appeared mocking before she spoke. "You say you're a big boy, Tobias, so it shouldn't be a problem to hold on?" said Andrea with a big smile. As he sat there restlessly, time felt like an eternity. When his mother finally drove up a familiar driveway and stopped the car, the pressure was so great that he began to get desperate. His mother opened the car door and saw her sister waiting for them at the entrance. They met and hugged each other while Tobias sat desperately waiting for the car door to open. He repeatedly tried to open it, but the child lock was on. Frustration built up within him as he observed his mother chatting and laughing with her sister while he sat suffering. His face turned red, and his body froze when he realized the battle was lost. He desperately tried to hold it in, but it was useless. The sluices opened, and the pee filled his diaper, which swelled as much as possible, but it just continued to flow. When his nightmare was finally over, another one began. It started leaking down his side and into his pants as his aunt opened the door to greet him. When his aunt saw Tobias, her eyes widened, and his face turned red with embarrassment. There he sat, strapped in a child seat, and had just wet himself so much that his pants were now soaked. His aunt changed her gaze to slightly mocking before her voice came. "Hi, Tobias. You haven't changed a bit. I thought you had become a big boy now," she said and looked at her sister curiously. "Tobias seems to have not grown at all. I believe putting him back in a child's seat was wise. He looks like he could be as old as my Sam. I was surprised to learn that he had started wearing diapers again, which I already see has leaked through his diaper. You know, sis, when you have to put them back in diapers, you must choose a thick and long-lasting option." said his aunt to her sister. Tobias's aunt's words stung his pride, and he felt embarrassed. His aunt helped him leave the car seat while his mother approached and leaned down. She saw tears starting to come down from his eyes. Her finger wiped them away before she hugged Tobias and looked him warmly in the eyes. "Now, let's go inside, remove this wet diaper, and find clean clothes." his mother said.

The discovery had been accidental, a forgotten delivery left on the porch that Susan opened, thinking it was a surprise gift for her. Instead of jewellery or lingerie, she found a package of premium adult-sized diapers, printed with childish pastel animals. Sam, her fiancé of two years, had walked in at that exact moment, his face draining of all colour. The confession that followed was halting, humiliating, and utterly complete. Sam was an Adult Baby Diaper Lover. Susan’s world tilted. The man she’d planned to marry, to build a life and a family with, harboured this profound, secret need to regress, to be cared for as an infant. The traditional image of a husband—a protector, an equal partner—shattered in her mind. Yet, as she watched Sam weep with shame, a different, more dominant form of affection stirred within her. She loved him, fiercely, but she could no longer see him as a man. He was something else entirely: a helpless, needy thing that required not a wife, but a mommy.Sam's penis resembeld something more like a nine year old boy so the nappies were quite the right attire for him .Even fully aroused he was not quite three inches something she was willing to overlook or so she thought until the discovery. Their engagement transformed overnight. The wedding plans were shelved, the rings put away. In their spacious home, a new dynamic was meticulously constructed. Sam, now referred to almost exclusively as Samantha or Baby Ryan in his little space, was relocated from their master bedroom. A large, white-painted crib, a man-sized piece of furniture with high, slatted sides, was installed beside Susan’s bed. His wardrobe was purged of masculine attire and replaced by a humiliatingly frilled and sissified nursery collection: short, sheer nylon nighties that barely covered his plastic pants, pale pink satin baby knickers that crinkled with every step, and dresses fit for a toddler princess, all in delicate pastels and lace. To manage the practicalities of this new life, Susan hired a college student named Chloe. Pretty, slender, assertive , and perceptive, Chloe found the entire situation endlessly amusing. She took to her role as babysitter with a creative, merciless zeal. It was Chloe who enforced the strict wardrobe, who mixed his bottles of formula, and who presided over nappy changes with a running commentary of gentle teasing. “Oh, someone’s made a big, soggy mess for Chloe, haven’t they?” she’d sing-song, unpinning the thick, cloth nappy and the crinkly plastic pants over it. Her laughter was light but pointed as she cleaned him, her eyes flicking dismissively to his tiny, less-than-three-inch erection. “All that fuss over such a little thing. Poor Samantha. Don’t worry, baby, you don’t need to be a big boy here you will always be dressed as a sissy baby girl now.” The final, most profound pillar of baby Samantha’s new reality was Susan’s new boyfriend, Mark. Where Sam had been slight and boyish, Mark was broad, rough-handed, and unmistakably, aggressively male. Susan, still a vibrant and attractive woman, had no intention of celibacy. Their relationship was open now, in one direction. Most nights, after Samantha was tucked into his crib with a pacifier clipped to his nightie, Mark would arrive. From the confines of his crib, Samantha was forced to watch. He’d lie on his side, clutching the crib bars, as the big, rough man climbed into the bed beside Susan. He’d listen to the sounds of his wife’s pleasure, see the shadow of Mark’s powerful form moving over her, his long thick penis easily seven inches a stark, living contrast to his own tiny member and infantilisation. It was the ultimate humiliation, a nightly lesson in his complete displacement. And Samantha, true to his deepest, most shameful wiring, was perversely enthralled by it. The heat in his cheeks, the tight knot of helpless arousal in nappy- his stomach—it all fed his regression. His behaviour began to mirror his attire. He became a full-time baby, and a mischievous one at that. He was caught red-handed, more than once, sneaking into the laundry to play with Susan’s discarded, silky white panties, staining them with his childish curiosity. He would try to hide and spy on Mommy and Mark during their private moments, his breathing shallow. He even caused trouble on the rare occasions Susan took him to a “littles” playgroup, snatching toys and babbling incoherently to provoke the other adult babies.All the wives at the group knew he was a cuckold sissy . The discipline for these transgressions never came from Susan. She was the nurturing mommy, offering bottles and soothing lullabies. Punishment was Mark’s domain. He would haul the snivelling Samantha over his knee, right there in the living room or nursery, peeling down the frilly knickers and plastic pants to expose the diapered bottom beneath. The spankings were not brutal, but they were firm, authoritative, and deeply shaming, each crack of Mark’s hand a reinforcement of the hierarchy: Once over his blistered bottom he was forced to stand in the corner hand on his frilly bonet his penis aroused leaking precum at the humiiatation .Man over Mommy, Mommy over Baby. Afterwards, Mark would often force Samantha to kneel and apologise, not to Susan, but to him, for being a nuisance to his woman. Samantha would hiccup through the words, his face wet with tears, a confusing cocktail of terror, humiliation, and devotion swirling inside him. His world condensed to its simple, stark elements: the scent of baby powder, the crinkle of plastic, the taste of puréed food from a spoon fed by Chloe, the intimidating shadow of Mark, and the beautiful, stern face of Mommy Susan, who loved him enough to reduce him to this. The nursery, with its locked door and soft lighting, was his entire universe. The cuckolding was his nightly lullaby. The humiliation was his oxygen. And as he drifted off to sleep in his crib, listening to the steady breathing of the real man sleeping beside his wife, a profound, peaceful smile would touch Samantha’s lips. He was where he belonged. He wouldn’t have it any other way

Summary of Story Bradley is an 18-year-old high-school senior who still wets the bed and has to wear diapers to bed. He is very short, scrawny, and physically underdeveloped for his age, which makes him deeply insecure. He lives with his strict stepmother Michelle and his teasing, confident stepsister Katie. She is 18-years-old and also in the same grade as him. But she is far more mature and popular than him. Michelle treats Bradley like a much younger child because of his lack of maturity and irresponsibility, she enforces strict rules and routines to “help him grow up.” Bradley’s Humiliation at Walmart (Ch 1 - Ch 8.) Chapter 1 Morning at home. Bradley faces his Morning diaper check because he still wets the bed. Main characters: Bradley, Michelle (stepmother), Katie (stepsister). Chapter 2 Bradley goes to Walmart and ends up in the diaper aisle Main characters: Bradley, Michelle. Other shoppers. Chapter 3 Bradley ends up in the Walmart Ladies room. Main characters: Bradley, Michelle, Emma (store employee/classmate), Jenna (classmate), and Ellie is introduced (his crush). Chapter 4 Bradley gets diapers and shops. Main characters: Bradley, Michelle, Emma (reappears briefly). Chapter 5 Bradley disobeys his stepmother. Main characters: Bradley, Michelle, Caleb (school bully) and his friends. Chapter 6 Bradley checks out and has a problem.. Main characters: Bradley, Michelle, Anna (checkout cashier/classmate friend). Chapter 7 Bradley needs assistance. Main characters: Bradley, Michelle. College Girls. Chapter 8 Bradley goes home. Main characters: Bradley, Michelle, Katie, Ashley (Katie’s friend). Bradley’s Diaper Punishment at School (Ch 9 - Ch 22) Chapter 9 Bradley wakes up and does morning routine with Michelle. Main characters: Bradley, Michelle, Katie. Chapter 10 Bradley gets ready for school Main characters: Bradley, Michelle, Katie (brief appearance). Chapter 11 Bradley eats breakfast. Main characters: Bradley, Katie, Michelle. Chapter 12 Bradley arrives at school Main characters: Bradley, Michelle, Katie School Secretary, Other Students and Cheerleaders. Chapter 13 Bradley speaks with the principal. Main characters: Bradley, Michelle, Principal Hargrove, Nurse Anna. Other Students. Chapter 14 1st Hour History class: Bradley sees new expectations Main characters: Bradley, Ms. Shayhan (teacher), Anna & Emma (classmates). Brief hallway encounter with football players. Chapter 15 2nd Hour Cooking class: Bradley crushes on Ellie Main characters: Bradley, Ellie, Jenna, Chloe, Ms. Nelson. Chapter 16 3rd Hour English Class: Bradley Needs to use the restroom Main characters: Bradley, Mrs. Carter, Caleb (and friends), Nurse Anna, Ashley, Heather. Chapter 17 4th Hour Science class: Bradley likes rockets Main characters: Bradley, Ellie, Ms O’Neil. Chapter 18 Lunch Time: Bradley has lunch Main characters: Bradley, Ellie, Katie, Jenna, Ashley, Michelle. Chapter 19 5th Hour Math class: Bradley gets in Trouble Main characters: Bradley, Ms. Robinson, Caleb, Hannah, Ellie. Chapter 20 5th Hour Math Class (2nd half): Bradley visits the school nurse Main characters: Bradley, Ms. Robinson, Nurse Anna, Ms. Hargrove. Chapter 21 6th Hour Art class: Bradley makes art. Main characters: Bradley, Ellie, Ms. Apple. Chapter 22 End of School: Bradley is picked up from school. Main characters: Bradley, Ms. Hargrove, Michelle, Katie, Ellie (briefly). Bradley's Diaper Punishment (Humiliation at Walmart) Chapter 1 Bradley’s heart pounded as he walked in the kitchen, the morning sunlight streaming through the windows and casting a warm glow on the tiled floor. The air smelled faintly of coffee and toast, but all he could focus on was the dampness between his legs and the way his diaper sagged uncomfortably under his pajama pants. Bradley was 18 years old and a senior in high school. He lived with his stepmother and stepsister. Bradley was a very short and scrawny teenager. Puberty has yet to come to Bradley, he had no hair other than the hair on his head. He was small down there, something he was very embarrassed about. His stepsister and stepmother were much taller and stronger than him. His stepmother, Michelle, stood there in her perfectly pressed summer dress, her arms crossed. Katie, his stepsister was in the same grade as him in school. Katie loved to tease Bradley. She loved to joke about letting his bedwetting secret slip to the whole school. There were already rumors floating around about his bedwetting chart. Katie was much more mature than he was. Bradley always seemed to show a strong lack of responsibility and obedience. The opposite of Katie. Katie leaned lazily against the counter, her long legs stretched out in her usual nighttime attire—cute high-cut panties that showed off her butt and a top that clung to her slender body. Bradley hated how she loved to flaunt her lack of need for diapers by showing off her mature panties. A constant reminder of his own humiliating need for diapers at night. She smirked at him, her eyes flicking down toward his waistline. “Good morning, Bradley,” Michelle said in that tone—the one that always made him feel like he was five years old. Her voice was sweet but laced with authority, the kind that brooked no argument. “Come here, let me check your diaper.” Bradley hesitated, his cheeks burning. God, why does she have to do this? Why can’t I just take it off in my bedroom and tell her? But he knew better than to do that. Ever since he’d lied about being dry, Michelle had insisted on checking his diaper every morning herself. No matter what she was in the middle of doing, where she was, or who was there. He had to find her and let her check him before he was allowed to remove his diaper. And in the kitchen, with Katie standing there, it felt even more humiliating. They were in the same grade and he was treated so much differently than her. Bradley’s stomach dropped. He hated this routine. His feet dragged as he approached her. Katie’s eyes followed him, a smirk playing on her lips. He could already hear the teasing remarks forming in her mind. He was lucky she hasn't gone around school telling everyone about his embarrassing secret. At least not that he knows of. Michelle knelt down, and sighed impatiently gesturing for him to turn around. He did, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Katie let out a little laugh, and he shot her a glare, but she just giggled. “Relax, Brad,” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you in diapers before.” Michelle ignored her and tugged at the waistband of Bradley’s pajama pants, pulling them down just enough to reveal the white diaper underneath. Bradley’s entire body tensed, his breath catching in his throat. Her fingers moved quickly, pressing against the diaper to check for wetness. When she found it, she clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Wet again,”Michelle sighed heavily, pulling his pajama bottoms back up before straightening up and wiping her hands on a nearby dish towel. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with you, Bradley. You’re 18 years old. This is ridiculous! Maybe I should just give up and start putting you to bed right after dinner in your diaper like the baby you are acting like” The threat made Bradley plead, “I’m trying,” he stammered, his voice strained. “I really am.” “Well, trying clearly isn’t enough,” Michelle replied, her tone hardening. “You’re 18 years old, Bradley. This is embarrassing for all of us.” Michelle marked the potty chart with a big red frowny face sticker on today's date. The chart was covered in red frowny faces for accidents. There were a few green happy faces scattered here and there, but they were rare. Too rare. Katie let out a quiet laugh, stepping closer, peering over Michelle’s shoulder at the chart. “Wow, Brad,” she said, her voice teasing. “Another frowny face for the bed-wetter. You’re really on a roll this week.” Bradleys face turned hot, “Shut up, Katie,” he muttered, though his voice lacked any real force. He hated the stupid potty chart that had been hanging there for months now, a constant reminder of his failures. It was bad enough that Michelle recorded every accident, but knowing that anyone who walked into their kitchen could see it—would see it—was unbearable. He was sure one of Katies friends saw it and blabbed to someone at his school. How else would the rumors at school got started? Bradley’s eyes flicked to Katie, who was now openly smirking at him. He hated her. He hated the the way Katie always seemed to be standing there, watching, smirking, like she enjoyed seeing him humiliated. He hated the diapers, the checks, the way Michelle treated him like he was still a little child, like he was incapable of doing anything on his own. “Michelle,” he started, his voice trembling. “Can’t I just tell you, do you really have to check me every morning? I’m not a baby.” Michelle turned to him, her eyes narrowed, for a moment, he thought she might yell at him. But instead, she set the stickers down and put her hands on her hips. “Bradley, we’ve been over this before, you know the rules. No taking off your diaper until I’ve checked you. . You lied to me before, remember? I have to make sure you’re being honest.” He wanted to argue, to scream that he was an adult and didn’t need this kind of treatment, but the threat of a spanking hung over him like a dark cloud. Michelle didn’t tolerate backtalk, and she had no problem carrying through on her threats. Bradley had learned that the hard way. “Go change out of your soaked diaper, shower quickly, then put on your big boy underwear,” Michelle instructed, “We’re going grocery shopping soon.” Bradley’s heart sank. He hated grocery shopping with Michelle. It was just another opportunity for her to treat him like a child in public. He glanced at Katie, who was clearly interested in his plight. “Can’t I just stay home?” he asked, his voice wavering slightly. He hated how desperate he sounded, but the thought of spending hours in the store with Michelle was unbearable. Michelle’s gaze hardened. “No, you can’t stay home. I don’t trust you alone, and Katie has plans with her friend. You’re coming with me.” Katie walked over to the dishwasher, showing off her big girl underwear, as she bent low to load her plate. “Yeah, I’m meeting Ashley at the mall. We’re going to try on new dresses, then come back here and tan. Prom is just around the corner” she said, shooting Bradley a sly grin. “But don’t worry, baby brother. I’m sure you’ll have fun picking out cereal and diapers.” Bradley glared at her, his fists trembling at his sides. “I’m not a baby, I don't want to go,” he plead. Michelle placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip firm. “Bradley, do I need to remind you what happens when you argue?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. Bradley swallowed hard, his defiance crumbling. “No, ma’am,” he muttered, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Good,” Michelle said, her tone softening slightly. “Now go take a shower and change into your big boy underwear ,” she ordered. “We need to leave soon and don’t forget to go potty before we leave I don't need you embarrassing me and having accident again.” Katie burst out laughing, her amusement clear. “Go potty,” she mimicked in a high-pitched voice, her laughter echoing in the kitchen. Bradley’s face burned. He hated when they brought that up and winced at the memory. He was so embarrassed when he’d had an accident during the day a month ago, right in the middle of the living room. Katie had teased him mercilessly for weeks afterward, and Michelle had made him wear pull ups during the day as a “precaution” until the whole package was gone. He didn’t think he’d ever live it down. Bradley glared at her, but there was nothing he could say. He turned left the kitchen, the weight of his humiliation pressing down on him. As he reached the stairs, he heard Katie call after him, her voice sing-song and cruel. “Don’t forget to rinse really well, baby boy! You wouldn’t want to smell of pee at the store!” Upstairs, Bradley slammed the bathroom door shut behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he tried to steady his breathing. The mirror across the room reflected his red-faced frustration, and he looked away, unable to meet his own gaze. Stripping off the wet diaper, he tossed it into the trash bin with more force than necessary before stepping into the shower. The water was lukewarm, doing little to soothe his anger. He scrubbed at his skin as if he could wash away the shame, the helplessness. But no matter how hard he tried, he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Not as long as Michelle insisted on treating him like this. Not as long as Katie kept mocking him. By the time he stepped out of the shower, his skin was red and raw, but he still didn’t feel clean. He didn’t want to go grocery shopping. But he didn’t have a choice. Michelle had made that clear. Dressing quickly, he pulled on a pair of his briefs. They were a little small on him and had cartoon characters all over them. They were very juvenile, but that's all Michelle would buy him, another thing Bradley hated. He put on his jeans, his hands trembling as he buttoned them, and grabbed a plain T-shirt, avoiding anything that might draw attention. As he put it on, the memory of Katie’s laughter echoed in his mind, fueling his resentment. Bradley shuffled downstairs, his heart heavy with dread. Michelle was already waiting by the door, her summer dress perfectly pressed, her hair brushed to a flawless shine, and her purse slung over one shoulder. As he approached, she gave him a stern look and reached into her bag, pulling out her hairbrush. Bradley froze mid-step, his eyes locked on the offending object. “Just a reminder,” Michelle said, her voice calm but edged with warning. “If you act up at the store, I will use this. Do you understand?” Bradley nodded quickly, his cheeks burning. “Yes, ma’am,” he groaned. Katie was at the top of the stairs behind him laughing at the threat, Michelle never spanked her. She leaned against the banister with a smirk. She was still in her bedtime outfit—nothing but a top and a pair of revealing panties—and she looked far too pleased with herself. "Don’t forget to go potty before you leave, Bradley," she called, her voice dripping with mock concern. "We wouldn’t want another accident, would we?" She said as she passed him, flaunting her panties. “I already went,” he lied quickly, desperate to avoid another humiliation. Katie leaned against the kitchen counter, grinning wickedly. “Sure you did, baby. Just like you ‘went’ last time, right before you peed your pants.” Bradley clenched his fists at his sides, but he didn’t say anything. Arguing with Katie only ever made things worse. Michelle raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Are you sure?” Her tone sounded like she was asking a toddler who was doing the potty dance. “I’m sure,” Bradley stammered, trying to get the embarrassing conversation over with. His cheeks were burning. Why did she have to ask him that? He wasn’t a child. Katie giggled, the sound grating on his nerves. “Mom, maybe you should just put him in one of his nighttime diapers before you go out. You know, just in case.” Michelle tilted her head considering it for a moment, “that's not a bad idea.” Bradley's jaw dropped, his eyes wide, he couldn't believe she was actually considering it. “No, he can wear his big boy underwear today. But Bradley,” she added, turning her full attention back to him, “if you have an accident at the store, you’ll be in big trouble. Do you understand?” “I’m not going to have an accident,” he snapped, his frustration boiling over. “I’m not a baby!” Katie snickered and Michelle’s eyes narrowed, she stepped closer, her presence looming. “Don’t talk back, young man. Now are you going to be a good boy for me on our shopping trip and not embarrass me?” Bradley’s face flushed crimson. He wanted to argue, to scream that he was eighteen, for God’s sake, but he knew better. Michelle didn’t tolerate defiance. Instead, he clenched his fists and nodded his head, his jaw tight. “Good,” she said, smoothing her dress. “Now, let’s go. And remember, Bradley, if you misbehave, I’ve got my hairbrush right here.” She patted her purse for emphasis, and Bradley’s stomach twisted.

This is a re-upload of a story I did not write. https://www.diaper-bois.com/stories/ryan-s-new-daddy/ Chapter 1 - One Confused Boy To say that Ryan Willis didn’t know quite what he was getting himself into was a massive understatement. Agreeing to surrender himself for an entire summer to the whims of a complete stranger is one thing, but when that person intends to treat you as his infant child for that time… well, you’d probably think you were completely fuckin’ bonkers as well, like he did. Some background information is probably necessary here. Ryan Willis was a pretty unassuming guy. Fairly freshly 18 and graduating high school; he was fairly popular, well-built from years of intensive hockey playing (the last year he spent as captain of the school’s team), and certainly no slouch in the looks department with his deep hazel eyes, fair features, and deep brown locks, always styled perfectly. Indeed, he had all the girls at school fawning after him. He got respectable grades that would have no trouble getting him into his college of choice, made no enemies, and was always home in time for tea. For all intents and purposes, Ryan was just a normal kid. But of course, as is typical for stories like these, he wasn’t. Ryan had a secret deep inside. Well, really, he had two secrets. The first; he was gay. A complete and utter raging homosexual. He’d had a girlfriend, sure, but him and Elise broke up a little while ago; thankfully before things got serious enough that his cover might be blown. Regardless, one thing was for sure: every time he ended up in the changing rooms after a sweaty game of hockey with his team was a massive struggle for dominance between his libido and his shame. All those rippling, hockey-player bodies, and the way they’d shower naked… Ryan had to start getting changed by himself after everyone had left by the end of it. They could never know; it was just how it had to be. No one could know, in fact; not his parents, not his younger sisters, not his friends, no one. He was Ryan Willis, star hockey player and future Harvard Law graduate, and he was expected to find himself a trophy wife and pop out a few kids in the future. He couldn’t fuck it up by being a faggot, as his dad would call him no doubt. But that was practically nothing compared to his other secret. See, not only was Ryan gay, but he was in what was called the ABDL community; specifically, he was what some termed a “teen baby”. Basically, Ryan enjoyed the idea of wearing diapers, playing with baby things, and being treated like an infant, preferably by an older, larger, stronger man. It was the cornerstone of his fantasies, and the thing he dreamed about every night he went to bed. In a way, ever since he got out of diapers, he’s dreamed of getting back into them. He’d spent countless hours in his teen years holed up in his room, door locked, jerking off over young guys in diapers and baby clothes, or reading stories about guys being forced into diapers by another man, always imagining himself in their place. Sure, he could get off over normal vanilla gay porn, and bottoming for another guy was something he desired too, but as soon as he threw diapers into the mix, his libido went nuts. Regardless, his fantasies always involved being dominated by an older man, a father figure as it were. It was nothing to do with his own father issues, or so he hoped. It was just how he was wired. In addition, he was a regular on all the usual ABDL haunts and forums. But this bummed Ryan out more often that it should - he saw all the guys his age freely wearing diapers and baby stuff and having people to change them and care for them, and though he always found it hot as hell, he couldn’t help but also feel intensely jealous. He knew he would never be able to get that. He was just too terrified that someone might recognise him on the internet, and his secret would be out, and his life would be over just like that. Being gay was one thing, but being a gay freak obsessed with diapers… He spared no expense in covering his tracks. He didn’t dare buy diapers or even training pants to live out his fantasies in real life, such was his fear of being caught. Bottles and pacifiers and the lot were out of the question as well. He even bought a second laptop, unbeknownst to the rest of his family, and used an anonymous browser on it to ensure that they could never find out. He brought the laptop out when he was sure no one was home, and went loose, but when he was done, or someone came home, he quickly locked it up and hid it underneath a loose floorboard under his bed. He had it all under lock; no one could find out. But this all led to Ryan feeling incredibly lonely. He knew that he wasn’t the only one with this weird fixation, but his paranoia meant he feared he’d probably never be able to actually experience his most desired fantasy. And of course, he was constantly racked with guilt, something that plagued practically everything ABDL in the course of their lifetime… the insistent, nagging thought that what you were doing, what you found enjoyable was actually a disgusting perversion, and only one degree of separation away from pedophilia. Of course it was ridiculous, he reasoned, but it didn’t really matter - if anyone found out, that’s exactly what they would think of him. However, everything changed in April of his senior year, not too long before graduation… Chapter 2 - Diaperlist It was a crisp, early Spring night, the sort you’d only ever get in good ol’ New England, when Ryan discovered Diaperlist. His parents were out for their anniversary dinner, and Jemma and Becca (his sisters) were out with their friends or boyfriends or whatever - he didn’t really care, all it meant for him was quality time alone with his fantasies. One of his closest teen baby friends (who lived on the other side of the country, a shame since he looked so cute in diapers) had posted a link on one of his favourite haunts, Teen Baby Hangout: “A cool new website I’ve developed. Sorta like Craigslist obviously, but just for us, so much less chance of us being found out. Plus it’s got a fully functional Facebook-esque messaging system, so you can shoot the shit before you decide if you wanna meet up for real. It’s invite only, so PM me for an invite if we’re friends. I wanna keep this safe, so I’ll only give you access if I fully trust you. And obviously, give out invites if you trust anyone else. I don’t really care if I offend anyone by not giving them an invite, security’s more important. I’ve posted this on all the other ABDL and fetish sites so it’s not just us. Otherwise, go crazy!! Meet all the ABDL/TBDL/whatever’s you’re legally entitled to in your home country or jurisdiction!” Intrigued, Ryan went to PM the guy, but he had already sent him an invite. Feeling rather touched at the thought, Ryan sent a “thank you” and signed up to the site. Already, there were a couple dozen posts, all sorted by geographical area. A handful in the UK, Canada, and other parts of Europe and Australia each, even one in Kyrgyzstan (poor dude), but naturally, the large majority were focused on the good ol’ US of A. Ryan’s heart skipped a beat when he saw that there were 5 listings for Massachusetts… and it caught up to speed again when he found out they were all for Boston. ‘Of course’, he reasoned. He probably wouldn’t know what to do if anyone in the Springfield, MA area actually wanted to meet up. Nonetheless, he looked at the listings for Boston, if only out of curiosity. They were all pretty much the same - “45yo Daddy looking for little girl to pamper ;)”. Very lovely, but hardly what he was looking for. And so, after that brief detour, Ryan’s “secret session”, as he called it, played out much like it normally did - he went on Tumblr, checked up on all his favourite blogs, had a good old-fashioned fap over one of the hotter diaper boys there, came, cleaned up, hid the evidence and went on with his life. “Hey Ryan!” a voice called out from outside his window, just as he placed the laptop under the floorboards. He just about leapt out of his skin. He didn’t even have any pants on! “Just a minute!” he said back, quickly throwing on a pair of raggy sweatpants. He went to the window and opened it to see his best friend, Jeremy Linnard, tossing rocks at his window. “Are you here to serenade me, Jeremy?” Ryan said jokingly. “I have a confession to make, Ryan,” Jeremy said in a faux-dramatic fashion. With a flourish, he mimed producing flowers and said in a dovey voice, “I… l-love you…” “Fuck off, ya faggot,” Ryan laughed, tossing his rocks back at him. Jeremy laughed as well, dodging his shots (or at least trying to). God, if only Jeremy knew. “Alright, alright, you wanna go bowling? Me and Sarah were bored and she’s fetching all her girl friends. Cynthia’s gonna be there too, big boy…” Oh right, Ryan thought. Her. See, in Ryan’s usual attempts to assert his masculinity and obvious heterosexuality, he had to pretend that he was interested in a girl. And so, choosing completely at random, he picked Cynthia to be his fake object of affection, a fairly plain but agreeable girl, not unattractive by any means. ‘Dammit,’ he thought to himself, ‘shoulda picked someone totally impossible.’ Not like that was easy, though - every goddamn girl in school would’ve probably dropped their pants for him in a heartbeat. “Sure, sure,” Ryan said. “Just gimme a minute.” Chucking on whatever was at the bottom of his clean clothes hamper (thanks ma!), Ryan went bowling with his best friend. He coolly played hard-to-get with Cynthia, which was really quite easy since he genuinely wasn’t interested, but it wasn’t as suspicious as outright turning her down. When he got back, his parents and sisters were home, so he couldn’t allow himself another secret session, to his dismay. He went to bed that night thinking about Diaperlist, however. He wondered if this might be his way to finally meet someone who was like him. Maybe when he went to Harvard in the fall, he could meet a friend… a “big bro”, or something. Or even a Daddy…? No, that was ridiculous. Just a fantasy, he reasoned. Something that could not happen. Friends, probably. But he couldn’t count on his deepest, dearest fantasy coming true just like that. And so, Ryan went on about his life. School, hockey, friends, secret sessions, sleep, rinse, repeat. Every now and then, he’d check up on Diaperlist, just to remind him of what might happen some day. He saw listings come and go day by day. Sometimes he’d check other areas, just to see what others were posting. He saw listings like “19yo smooth baby boy looking for Daddy” (same here pal), “mommy looking for obedient boy for kinky humiliating fun” (close, not quite), “60yo luvvving generou$$$ daddy after teen girl to spoil and pamper” (uhh)… But ultimately, it was what kept him going through his finals - the knowledge that getting through, and making it into college would enable him to get a good career and all, sure, but also give him an excuse to get away from home and maybe meet someone who understood. Well, fate sure did a number on him one particularly humid night about a month later. Ryan was stripped down to just a tank top, getting ready to fap away as usual. He logged onto Diaperlist, went to the Massachusetts section and read the listing at the top of the page, only posted three hours ago. “43yo, Springfield MA - dominant Daddy looking for <20yo fully submissive little boy. READ FIRST.” Ryan just about leapt out of his skin when he read that headline. Was he hallucinating? Dreaming? Nope, he pinched himself and he definitely wasn’t dreaming. That was really what it said. His heart was racing when he finally built up the courage to click and read the profile. “I’m a well-off semi-retired professional in the southern MA area. Looking for a cute, healthy, toned and FULLY submissive boy (no exceptions for any of those) under the age of 20 who is interested in becoming my baby boy. Message me if interested. Must provide pics.” That was it. Ryan was dumbstruck, but more than that, he was hard as a rock. Was this for real?! He didn’t know what the hell to do. Jesus Christ. He resolved to message him anyway, even if he hardly planned on actually meeting him. Maybe he could just entertain the fantasy for fapping fodder. It was sure making him horny as fuck just thinking about it, anyway. He opened the message tab and started typing, one-handed of course. >Hey there, I’m baby_ryry as you probably notice. I’m interested. Tell me more about what you would do to me. Send. He waited for a reply. Didn’t take long; under a minute in fact. Heart pounding, he opened it. >>I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Damn it. He wanted a pic. Ryan scoured his school’s website for the hockey team photos. He found a decent one of him, topless even, celebrating their victory earlier this year. He cropped his face out of it, and sent it off. >Here you go 😉 [photo attached] >>Nice pic… >>But that’s not quite what I want. Face pic. Shit. He really wanted to know what he would do to him. It’s like when you’re really goddamn horny and you find the perfect porn (or the perfect diaper picture set, in Ryan’s case), but it’s behind a paywall and you can’t find it anywhere else. You either cum quickly and get over it, or you submit to your horny desires and pay up. Unsurprisingly, Ryan chose the latter in this case. A few naughty selfies later, he sent them off to the mysterious man online. Pretty cute as well; Ryan had a fairly youthful face, so it lent itself well to a childish pout, especially with his naked butt sticking right up in the air. “I’ll save that for some porn Tumblrs,” he said to himself. Pause. Then a notification sound. >>Adorable boy. >>Tell me more about yourself. The long game, Ryan smirked to himself. Fair enough. >My name’s Ryan. I’m 18, turning 19 next January. I’m going to Harvard in the fall after I graduate high school to study English. I play hockey, and well, I guess you could say I’m a real teen baby, obviously haha. Smooth, Ryan thought to himself. He was reminded of those icebreaker games you had to play at a new job or school or something, where you say something interesting about yourself but you just can’t think of anything at all to say. >>Very nice. >>Would you like to know what I’d do to you? Aw yeah. This was what he wanted. >Yes please. >>I would make you mine. >>I would be strict, dominant and very controlling; but that’s what is needed. >>You will obey everything I tell you to do, wear anything that I dress you in, play with whatever I give you to play with, and submit to your Daddy’s every whim. >>You will not protest, or talk back. >>You will do this, because that’s what you are. >>You are just a helpless little baby. >>And babies, especially baby boys, need structure, discipline and routine. >>They need to depend on their Daddy for everything - changing, bathing, feeding. >>And they need to be punished when they’re naughty babies who disobey their Daddy. >>And when they’re good babies who make Daddy proud, they will be rewarded. >>But most of all, they need love. And that is what I would give you. >>I will love you like any good Daddy loves their precious little boy. >>All I ask is that you submit your entire self to my authority. Ryan was so incredibly aroused by this. He had to slow down to stop himself from cumming, he was just so close. And then another message. >>What are you doing now? >At home, chilling. >Why? ‘A great liar I am’, Ryan smirked >>You should come over. >>[location shared] Oh Jesus. This guy was serious. Ryan’s heart was pounding again. He looked at the map that was shared. It was in a fairly small township about 50 minutes away from Springfield; fairly rich and full of yuppies. He looked to his side table, where he kept his car keys. What if… >But what will happen? >>Why don’t you come over and find out. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! FUUUUUCK! Far too quickly, Ryan ejaculated harder than he had done in months. He shot himself in the eye even, making himself jump. His heart pounding, and his body still spasming slightly, the message box was still there, flashing with the new message. Ah, damnit. He shouldn’t have said anything. Now he’s gonna have to let him down easy. He tried to think of an excuse. >Sorry, I can’t tonight. Just thought I’d say hi. I’m super busy with study for finals and graduation. ‘That sounded so flaky,’ Ryan thought. Ping. >>That’s a shame. But I understand. >Thanks for understanding! No reply. Guess he blew it. Chapter 3 - The Offer After that, the mysterious man seemed to go quiet. In fact, he didn’t even come online. A week later, Ryan logged in again, nervous to see if he had any new messages… but he didn’t. He checked the listing again - still up. “Last online: 1 week ago”. Weird. Did Ryan’s flakiness make him give up on his search? Or maybe he actually found someone willing to go through with it… lucky bastard, in that case. Once again, he settled into a routine… one that was swiftly shaken up when finals came round for real. Reluctantly, he had to put his secret sessions on hold for a while so he could concentrate on cramming for tests. Mom helped out a lot by baking him some good old fashioned nerve-calming Russian fudge (thanks ma) and Dad helped by… well, being Dad, which is to say he didn’t really help. Great. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the man. He didn’t even get to see his face. What if he wasn’t even real, Ryan thought…? Just some sick pervo wanting to trap someone and murder them? …or a cop trying to catch perverts? What on Earth would the cop do when an actual 18-year-old kid turned up? More than anything though, Ryan couldn’t stop thinking, “What if he was for real? What if I had actually gone round there, and let him have his way with me? What if he… diapered me?” Every time he jerked off before he went to sleep, he couldn’t stop kicking himself, wishing he really had just gone round. But after he came, he would always remember his family. How would he explain where he had gone? “Hey sorry Mom and Dad, I just popped out to meet a complete stranger who’s twice my age so he could put me in diapers and treat me like a fuckin’ toddler.” It was never meant to happen. Finally, after a week and a half of sleepless nights, crying over incomprehensible notes, and general procrastination, Ryan made it through finals alive and well. Graduation would come in a few weeks, and the after-party of course. But what Ryan was looking forward to most of all was his first secret session in about a month. God, he was backed up. The next morning, Mom and Dad left for work, and the girls went out shopping or something, he didn’t care. They barely left the driveway before Ryan had his laptop (and his dick) out, eager for some good old-fashioned infantilist fappage. But first, as per routine, he checked the Diaperlist. The listing was gone. Ryan sighed. Too good to be true. He probably found someone else. He went to close the tab, and then… Ping. >>Hello there. It was him. Ryan didn’t know what to say. >Hi x That little kiss at the end; always smooth. >>Your finals are all over now, aren’t they? >Yup! Sure are, thank God 😛 >>That’s good. I suppose graduation’s not far behind either. >Absolutely. >>Well then, I have something to ask you. Ryan’s heart was practically leaping out of his chest. Was he going to ask him to come over again? >>Actually, it’s more of an offer. >What is it? >>I want you to come and stay with me and be my baby boy for two weeks over summer break. Ryan stopped dead in his tracks. His first, primal gut instinct was to smash “YES!” into the keyboard and race right over. But his second thought was, “What the hell.” >Are you serious? >>100%. >What do you mean? >>Simple. >>You will live in my house, obey all of my rules, and call me Daddy. >>You will be under my authority 24/7 for the entire stay, no exceptions. >>If you want to leave at any time, you can. I do have rules for you to follow, and some are quite strict. >>But I will provide you a warm, caring and loving environment for you to simply be yourself in. >>You will receive nourishing, nutritious meals, and provided with ample entertainment. >>You can live your wildest baby fantasy without any fear of judgement. >>Because your Daddy will be right here to change you if needed. Oh my God. This was for real. This man was genuinely offering Ryan a chance to live out his ultimate fantasy. But of course, reality kicked in. >I need to make money over summer. I can’t not work for two weeks. >>I can compensate you for any lost income. >>I am retired early, but I am very well-off. >>This means I can devote myself entirely to your care. 24/7. ‘Don’t tempt me!’ Ryan snapped. >What about my friends and family? >>That’s up to you. >>It’s only two weeks after all, I’m sure they’ll cope. >>And that’s my offer. >>Take it or leave it. Ryan’s head was spinning. In fact, the worst part was that he was already thinking of an excuse to tell his parents! He couldn’t possibly do this. No, he just couldn’t. No! It’s not happening. >I’ll think about it. >>Of course. Just let me know. Ryan couldn’t even concentrate on jerking off. He paced the room, trying to calm down. On the one hand, he thought about how boring it would be to just be a baby for two weeks. But then, of course, he realised that it would actually be the most exciting, erotic thing he could ever imagine. And really, what else would he do over summer? Watch TV and jerk off? While that sounds nice, it’s not exciting like being someone’s baby boy for a few weeks. He could just tell his parents that he and his friends were going on a cross-country road trip to Miami for two weeks. That’s the sort of spontaneous thing he and his friends would probably do. And… uh, he could just tell his friends that he and his family were going on a cross-country road trip to Colorado. That’s the sort of spontaneous thing he and his family would probably do. They would believe it. He could get away with it… Fuck! He can’t possibly be entertaining this thought. Nope, he can’t do it. That’s it. He’s just gonna have to tell the man, “Thanks but no thanks”. Yep, that’s what he’s gonna do. >Yes. I’ll do it. >>Good. >>I will arrange a time for you to come after graduation. >>We will sort details out then. >One more question. >>What is it, little boy? >What’s your name? >>It doesn’t matter. All I am is “Daddy” to you for these two weeks. >>Let your friends and family know now, okay? >Yes. >>Yes, what? >Yes Daddy. >>Good boy. Chapter 4 - Graduation Ryan had been having dreams about being put into diapers and cradled by a loving, muscular beefy man for years, and now it was going to happen any day now. He really couldn’t believe what he was doing. He even convinced the skeptical part of his mind to go along with it - if he didn’t like what was happening, he could just call it quits, like the man said. And it was only two weeks after all. If he turns up and it’s just some weirdo, he could ditch it. He’s a strong boy, he can hold his own if need be. The man… “Daddy” didn’t message him again leading up to graduation. He did say that he would wait until after graduation, but Ryan would have at least appreciated some acknowledgement. The first night, Ryan stayed up all night in bed, tossing and turning, thinking about what he just agreed to. Mostly, though, he was thinking of the best way to lie to his parents and his friends; rehearsing it in his head. "Mom, Dad… me and my best friends are going on a road trip to celebrate our last grasp of freedom before adulthood ties us down forever. I know this might be shocking to you, but we really need it. We might never see each other again. I love you both. Please accept this. I’ll see you guys when we get back, in two weeks.” The next day, he went down for breakfast and saw his Mom and Dad getting ready for work. They smiled when he walked in; well, Mom did anyway. “Hi sweety, you’re up early!” “Y-yyeah, hey guys, s-so…” Jesus, Ryan, calm yourself. “M-me and the guys are gonna go on a trip-- road trip…” “Oh yeah? Sounds cool. When will you be back?” “Uh… two weeks?” “Aw okay, hun. I hope you have fun. When do you leave?” “Uh… sometime next week after graduation on Friday?” “Well, be safe. I’ll pack you some stuff if you need it.” Mom kissed him on the cheek before she and Dad left for work. …That was easy. “Hey Jeremy,” Ryan said on the phone to his best friend, “Me and the folks are going on a road trip to Colorado for two weeks after graduation, cos they wanna spend some time with me before I leave Mom forever and ever.” “Aww sucks dude, was gonna go on a road trip to Miami with ya if you were interested!” “Well… I might, if I decide to bail on them. I’ll let ya know. Otherwise if you don’t hear from me, I’m in Colorado!” Jesus, this was easier than expected. Graduation rolled around, and the after-party soon followed. Even though he had a raging hangover, on Saturday morning Ryan still raced home as soon as he recovered enough to not puke his guts out at the slightest sign of light. The girls were home, but he was too impatient to wait. He just locked his door and retrieved his laptop. One new message. Just like clockwork. >>On Monday, at 9am sharp, you will go to Vienna Cafe in the city. I will meet you there. >>You will not need to pack anything other than the clothes on your back. >>From there, I will take you back to my house, where you will be living. >>I will have everything that you need for the entire time you’re here. >>Do you understand? >Yes daddy. >>Good boy. I will send a copy of the rules that you will be living under later tonight. >>I have two more requests for now, though. >>Firstly, I want you to abstain from masturbating until you have come here. >>Can you do that for me? Ryan was so incredibly aroused - he wanted dearly to jerk one off right there. But he figured that whatever “Daddy” had in store for him, it was clearly worth it. >Yes daddy. >>Secondly, I want you to shave yourself. >>Not your head, just your facial hair and everything below that. >>This is the only time you’ll need to do this. >>Do you understand? >Yes daddy. >>Good boy. “You better be worth it,” Ryan said to himself. Later that night, sure enough, a PDF document came through. >BABY RYAN’S RULES >Daddy’s word is final. >Daddy will be addressed as Daddy, and nothing else. >If Baby Ryan is a naughty boy and disobeys Daddy, he will be punished. >If Baby Ryan is a good boy and obeys Daddy, he will be rewarded. >Daddy has the authority to alter the rules as he sees fit without notice. >Daddy’s word is final. Ryan was almost disappointed at how vague and brief it was. He was expecting something with more detail… but this meant it left much more to Ryan’s imagination, which he actually found hotter than anything. Sunday came round quicker than Ryan anticipated - one day to go, and then he would move in with the strange man he was now required to call “Daddy”. Out of sheer curiosity, he made an impulsive decision to go and scope out the address he’d been provided upon first contact with “Daddy”. Driving down the street, he found himself in a leafy, fairly wealthy neighbourhood - the sort you’d want to raise your kids in. He stopped right opposite the address he’d been given. It was an impressive, old-fashioned two-storey white home, with a large stone fence and iron gate, well-maintained green lawn, and a two-car garage. The house looked freshly painted, well-maintained and generally welcoming. Something in one of the upstairs windows caught his eye… he could’ve sworn he caught a glimpse of the familiar bars that signified a crib… and was that silhouette a teddy bear? Suddenly, a figure walked past the window, and stopped. Ryan leapt into action and immediately sped off, not looking back. His mom was suddenly much more emotional about Ryan disappearing for the summer, which made him feel quite a bit guilty, especially since he was being so dishonest about the ordeal. But he knew he couldn’t really justify backing out now; even if he wanted to. At dinner, she burst into tears and wouldn’t stop hugging him before he went to bed. He felt babied, and not in the way that he liked (thanks ma). It’s not like he was disappearing for good. He lay in bed that night, thinking what on Earth he had gotten himself into. He looked at the clock. 12:30 AM. In just under nine hours, he would be under the complete control of someone he had never even met before in his life. And he couldn’t be any more excited. It was surprising that Ryan managed to sleep at all that night, but indeed he did. He had a lot of peculiar dreams that night and some he remembered more than others: one dream he was sleeping in a crib, a usual fantasy of his; another he dreamt of a large, beefy man holding him and feeding him a bottle; and another, he was trapped in a massive, cage-like crib, unable to escape… Beep beep beep. 8:00 AM. Time to get up. Chapter 5 - Meeting Daddy Ryan was in a daze as he showered and dressed for the fateful meeting. He went through his clothes, wondering what he would possibly wear - “Not that it really matters,” he reasoned with himself, “You’re probably gonna get changed into something else straight away anyway.” He went with a fairly innocuous pair of jeans and a plain white T-shirt. Not daring to look back or think twice, he left. It was a clear, crisp morning, so he resolved to walk. And it was a brief walk - much too soon, he found himself on the corner of Vienna Street, with the Vienna Cafe in sight. Ryan’s heart was pounding so hard and fast, he might have been in danger of collapsing right there. He checked his watch. 8:50 AM. This was it. He walked past the cafe three or four times before he built up the confidence to walk in. And when he did… it was empty. Weird. They only just opened, clearly, so he ordered a coffee and sat at a table by the window. He checked his phone, which read 8:59 AM, and then he almost jumped when a tall, muscular figure passed by the window and went straight into the cafe. Ryan couldn’t suppress a gasp when the man walked in, and looked straight at him. He was well-built, of course; quite beefy and clearly strong. He was wearing a plain button-up shirt which was unbuttoned slightly to reveal his hairy, rock-hard chest, and was tucked into a pair of tight slacks that certainly accentuated his crotch well. His sleeves were rolled up, putting his muscular, hairy arms on display. But Ryan was more drawn towards his face - he had a decent amount of facial hair, but not exactly a full-on beard, just enough stubble to let you know who was the man of the house. His dark hair was speckled with gray spots, the only thing betraying his age. And yet, it was his face that was the most striking feature of all… he had a gentle, warm face which filled Ryan with a similarly warm feeling inside… it was incredibly peculiar, and even more so considering Ryan was now staring at this strange man for about ten seconds. What could he say - he just oozed authority. The man beamed widely, and walked over. “Well well well,” he said in a calm, warm voice that put Ryan off guard. “You must be Ryan.” Ryan laughed nervously. “Yup, that I am. And you are…?” The man chuckled, making Ryan feel that much more nervous again. “Well, you know who I am.” Ryan stared at the floor, unable to quite make eye contact with the man… “Daddy”, yet. “I’ve gotta finish this coffee,” Ryan said hastily. “That’s OK, baby, I can wait. But we’ve got to get going soon.” Ryan looked around anxiously in case anyone heard him call him “baby”. “Don’t be embarrassed, little Ryan,” he laughed. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.” “I have to tell you something,” Ryan blurted out before he could stop himself. “What is it?” “Uh… this is kinda my… well… first… anything.” “You mean you’ve never worn diapers before?” Ryan flinched at the d-word. He never even dared say it out loud himself. And yet, here was this burly, intimidating man using it freely in front of him. “Y-yeah… or, y’know, been with another man…” “Is that so?” he cocked an eyebrow, smiling again. “Yup…” Ryan was sure getting a great view of his shoelaces here. “Well, you do understand what I’m going to do to you, don’t you? You know that I will be putting you back in diapers? And that you will be my baby boy?” Ryan was flushing with embarrassment, but he silently nodded. “Look at me and say so.” Ryan looked up and made eye contact with him. His eyes were warm and loving, sure, but his face was hard and authoritarian. Not the sort of person you wanted to mess with at any rate. “Y-yes.” “Yes, what?” “…” “Say it.” “…Yes, Daddy.” Immediately after saying that, Ryan’s cock (which had been more or less inert since waking up) sprang to attention. He blushed even further at that. “Daddy” seemed to notice and smiled widely again. “Don’t get too excited now,” he chuckled. “We’ve still got to get you home and settled in now.” Ryan laughed nervously, and returned to looking at his feet. “Well, we should get going now.” Ryan was frozen. He acknowledged the man’s words, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Frankly, he probably just wasn’t ready to go yet. “Daddy” seemed to notice. “Let me just lay everything out on the table here,” he said, his face softening and allowing a smile. "I might have been a bit vague, but I didn’t want to spoil the surprise. But I should clear a few things up anyway, just so we’re both on the same page. I’m sure you’ve read things on the internet about “babies” and their “daddies”. Well, in case you haven’t already realised… I’m not like those other daddies. I’m not going to just put you in diapers and change you, although that will certainly be a major aspect of our relationship. "You will need to submit yourself entirely to my control. You’re going to fed by me, bathed by me. I will choose what you wear, and you will wear it, no questions asked. You will eat and drink what I feed you, no questions asked. And yes, you will be diapered 24/7. But ultimately, above all else, you will be my baby boy. Not just my boy, who’s dressed like a baby… my baby boy. You will need to forget who you are. You won’t be Ryan Willis, high school graduate, star athlete and future college student. You will just be Baby Ryan, Daddy’s good little baby boy; and nothing more. And I mean 24/7… there will not be any breaks or moments to breathe; no safe words. You live under my roof, you’re my baby. "I know I sound like I’m repeating myself now, but I just really want you to fully understand what I’m offering. And I understand that’s an immense commitment to make. So if you’re having any second thoughts now, this is your chance to turn back and go home. But that’s it; the offer’s off the table. I don’t deal with second chances or boys who don’t know what they want. I want you to be absolutely certain with regards to what you want. Same goes for the other option - if you come with me, there’s no turning back. You commit to this, and you commit entirely for these two weeks. “So, little guy, that’s my final offer. You can go home and back to your life as Ryan Willis, the closeted, suppressed college student unable to express his desires, doomed to a life of pent-up urges he might never be able to fully indulge in. Or… you can come with me, and be my Baby Ryan. And I know it’s what you want, what you desire with every inch of your being. You wouldn’t have gone to my house yesterday if you didn’t.” Ryan blushed profusely at this. "Nonetheless, it’s your decision. Two weeks of bliss.” Strangely enough, the first thought that entered Ryan’s head was, “Man, this must be the weirdest conversation to ever take place in this coffee shop.” And then, all at once, Ryan’s mind began racing at a million miles per hour. He was, indeed, having second thoughts now that he really thought about it. Planning this whole thing in his mind and imagining all the situations he would get into was one thing, but now he was here, with the man who wanted to baby him standing right in front of him. Ryan truthfully didn’t quite prepare for how serious “Daddy” was about this. Playing baby was something Ryan obviously wanted… but by the sounds of it, “Daddy” didn’t just want Ryan to pretend to be his baby, he wanted Ryan to BE his baby. It was intense, it was scary… and Ryan couldn’t think of anything more amazing. And now he had to choose between getting into “Daddy”'s car, or going home. “No turning back”, though? Ryan thought he said he could opt out at any time if he wa– “Well, if you don’t want to come, that’s fine. I’ll see you later, baby Ryan.” The man left. He was about to open his car door and hop in, no doubt to drive off and never be seen again, when he looked back at the coffee shop to see Ryan, standing by the car. He silent. He looked “Daddy” in the eye, and slowly nodded. The man smiled. “That’s my boy.” Chapter 6 - The Nursery “Woah, little guy, let Daddy help you there.” Ryan was taken aback when he went to open the passenger door - he barely even touched the door handle before “Daddy” interjected. He almost went to say, “No, it’s fine,” before he remembered himself. “Daddy” came round to the other side and opened the door for him. A lump formed in Ryan’s throat when he saw that the passenger seat was occupied by… a booster seat. A fairly large one, clearly custom-made for larger kids. Suddenly, Daddy clasped Ryan’s shoulder with his right hand; his grip was very firm. Ryan looked at him, and he motioned his head as if to say, “Go on, then”. Ryan wasn’t quite prepared for the baby thing to start so soon; he thought it would at least wait until they got back to his house. But Daddy looked pretty serious, so Ryan reluctantly climbed into the padded seat. Immediately, once he was in, Daddy strapped him in - it was one of those straps that crosses from all four sides, and buckles in the center. It was certainly tight, and in fact, Ryan could’ve sworn that he heard a clicking sound, like a lock, when Daddy finished buckled him in, and closed the door. This was it. “Alright then baby, let’s go home.” The drive went by rather quickly. The radio played quietly in the background, but otherwise, it was fairly silent. Ryan was too nervous to think of anything to say that wasn’t just awkward small talk, so he stayed quiet. Every now and then he’d look at the man and think to himself, “That’s my Daddy”. Just a few weeks ago, he thought the idea of having a Daddy was in the farthest realms of pure fantasy, and now here he was, locked into a baby’s carseat and at the mercy of a man almost twice his age. And he absolutely loved it - he was still rock hard, and the added tightness of the straps pressing up against his crotch only made him hornier. Every now and then, Daddy would catch him staring, and Ryan would look away, blushing. Then the man would beam that oddly comforting smile of his, and he’d feel a bit better. And then his dick would throb, and he’d blush again. Finally, they pulled into his driveway. Daddy released him from his carseat, and guided him inside. Ryan looked outside, at his one last gasp of freedom, before taking a deep breath and stepping inside. Daddy closed the door and locked it behind him. “Take your shoes off.” Ryan looked around the foyer - it was light and airy, with polished wooden floors and attractive paintings adorning the walls. To his immediate left was a staircase, and he could see into the big, open lounge area to his right (with a piano, large dining table, and other grand furniture suitable for someone with a sizable income), but otherwise, there wasn’t much to see. And Ryan was only interested in one particular room, obviously. “Would you like to see your new room?” Oh how overjoyed Ryan was to hear those words. Daddy took Ryan’s hand, as usual in a firm but not painful grip, and guided him upstairs. He walked past multiple rooms, no doubt bedrooms, being led to the door at the very end of the hallway. Ryan simply couldn’t suppress a smile when he saw the words “Baby Ryan’s Nursery” adorning a sign designed with baby blocks hanging on the door. Daddy unlocked the door (quite a hefty lock on it as well, Ryan noted) and took him inside. Ryan might have been smiling before, but now his jaw simply dropped. The room was quite large; about twice the size of his room, he wagered. But it wasn’t really the size of the room that took his breath away, of course, it was the contents. And what contents! The room was painted in whites and soft baby blues, with the odd pastel yellow or green thrown in here and there for good measure. The walls were adorned with images of famous children’s cartoon characters like Elmo (lots of Elmo), Blue from Blues Clues, and the Teletubbies. The carpet was a soft, fleecy white with a multitude of baby toys scattered about… blocks, cars, rattles, teething rings, and even a big rocking horse to the side. A toybox in the corner no doubt contained a multitude of other toys to play with. A massive brown teddy bear sat in the corner by the window, and a few other plush toys were scattered about as well. A rocking chair sat next to the big bear, and on the other side of it, a massive padded changing table, with shelves underneath stacked high with what was the unmistakeable sight of (Ryan’s heart lept with excitement) large disposable diapers, a few fluffy white cloth ones and plastic pants, in addition to the usual diaper changing supplies - powder, baby wipes, etc. A stack of shelves next to the table was stacked with pacifiers and bottles. The wardrobe door was ajar, enough that Ryan could catch a brief glimpse of what was inside - he saw a pair of white footed pajamas with what appeared to be cute little pictures of teddy bears and rattles on it. A big TV sat to the side of the room, hidden behind the open door. A full length mirror hung on the other side of the door. Sunlight spilled into the room, aided by the big, airy windows that overlooked the street below. And completing the scene, the words “Baby Ryan” adorned the wall above the changing table, matching the sign on the door in big baby block letters. But what easily dominated the room was the huge, white crib sat right beside the window (decorated with Winnie-the-Pooh curtains, of course). The bars were down, ready for its new occupant. There was even a cute plush rabbit waiting inside. In short, the nursery was everything Ryan had dreamed of, and more. Everything was perfectly re-scaled for a boy of Ryan’s size, but all without sacrificing the infantile nature of the objects inside. Make no mistake, this was not a room for a young adult; it was a room for babies who just happened to be teen-sized. Ryan was an expert on adult baby supplies, having spent hours staring wistfully at websites that he thought he’d never be able to sample; and there were things in this room that he never even thought existed in such large sizes. Clearly Daddy had gone out of his way to customise everything to perfection. Never in his wildest dreams would he fathom a room as wonderful as this; and now it would be his room for the next two weeks. Naturally, Ryan was in awe at the sight. He took in every single detail, constantly reminding himself that no, he wasn’t dreaming, and yes, this was really the room he would now call home for two weeks. He sniffed; and he was suddenly transported back to visiting his Aunt Jemima as a child who had a one-year-old daughter, his cousin Janine… it was the sweet, gentle scent of baby powder. Ryan breathed it in further; he’d never smelt something so sweet. Daddy was watching him this whole time, smiling as his baby boy took in the sights and smells. Ryan eventually realised that he was doing so, and blushed. Daddy clasped an arm on his shoulder. “Well, let’s get started.” Immediately, Daddy seized Ryan and lifted him into the air with extraordinary ease. Ryan was so taken by surprise his instinctive reaction was to struggle, but it did no good; Daddy was simply too strong. He carried Ryan over to the rocking chair and sat down in it, forcing Ryan over his lap, his butt sticking out most prominently. Ryan breathed heavily, no longer knowing what was going to happen next. “Well, this is just no good,” Daddy tutted, “the naughty baby thinks he’s more grown up than he really is. Look how silly he looks in these grown-up clothes, he’s not fooling anyone. I think it’s time Daddy taught him a little lesson.” Chapter 7- Back to Basics Without warning, Daddy roughly ripped Ryan’s pants off and tossed them aside, exposing Ryan’s plain white briefs (Ryan’s preferred underwear, as they were the closest things to diapers he could really get), which he then pulled down to expose his naked butt. Ryan realised what was coming, and started to grow nervous. A spanking? This wasn’t part of the plan… Ryan squirmed uncomfortably, but Daddy’s vice-like grip meant he was going nowhere. “Wait, I don’t think I’m r–” Ryan was swiftly silenced when a sharp slap came across his butt cheeks. He yelped in pain, but barely had time to catch his breath before another came. And another. And another. Ryan hadn’t been spanked since he was 4 years old, but the experience was no less humiliating at 18 years old. In fact, obviously, it was much more degrading and painful than he remembered. After what felt like an eternity, but was really more like about a minute, Daddy stopped spanking. He rubbed Ryan’s bright red stinging bottom, and then let his finger linger on his pink hole, teasing it thoroughly, and slipping a finger inside to explore. Ryan just about yelped. “Such a smooth, round bottom… my baby boy’s going to look just precious in his new diapers.” Ryan’s heart jump-started once again. He knew what was about to happen. He’d been dreaming and fantasising about it ever since he got out of them in the first place, but now it was a reality - he was about to be put back in diapers. The man held Ryan in a firm grasp and brought him over to the changing table. He was laid out on the padded surface gently, and the burly man went about gathering supplies. Ryan wriggled experimentally; the soft padding crinkled slightly. A real-life changing table, all right. He felt so exposed, lying butt naked at the mercy of this total stranger, and his bottom still stung quite a bit from the spanking. Another crinkling sound filled Ryan’s ears, but it wasn’t the changing table; the man had retrieved one of the large, thick diapers and presented it to him. Ryan got a close-up look of his new underwear. They were pearly white, plastic, and the front featured little pictures of teddy bears and stars, much like a real baby’s diaper. But, of course, these were much larger than a normal baby’s diaper, and they appeared to be much thicker. In fact, Ryan realised they looked even a bit thicker than the usual diapers tailor-made for ABDLs, and those were specifically optimised for maximum thickness. It was the most beautiful thing Ryan had ever seen, and his eyes (and dick) widened in anticipation. Daddy looked down at Ryan’s erect member, and Ryan blushed. “Well well,” he chuckled, “Looks like someone’s excited for his new diapie! Better get it on you so we don’t have any little accidents.” With one swift move, he grabbed Ryan’s ankles and lifted his butt high up in the air. Ryan was taken aback by this sudden movement; he’d never been so easily manhandled before, and the man seemed to be doing it with such little effort, as if he was setting to work on a real little baby. He had unfolded the diaper and used this opportunity to slide it under Ryan’s butt, and then lowered him back down onto it. Then came the wipes - of course Ryan didn’t really need it, since he wasn’t wet (yet…) but this was a Daddy who liked to keep up appearances. Ryan flinched as the cold, damp wipe was dragged across his crotch. Noticing his excitement, Daddy paid extra attention to Ryan’s throbbing boner, grabbing it with the wipe and giving it a few gentle strokes. Ryan was just about to burst when Daddy immediately stopped, denying him the satisfaction of a good climax. Ryan’s initial gut reaction was frustration, followed by an even more intense wave of excitement. He was lifted into the air again, held up by his ankles in one hand while the other hand busied itself wiping Ryan’s butt down. Freshly wiped, Daddy moved onto the next stage: a bottle of Johnson & Johnson’s baby powder. With a few generous puffs, the sweet aroma of the talcum powder filled Ryan’s nostrils, and he breathed in the wonderful smell deeply. Daddy applied a liberal amount of powder, making sure every nook and cranny was covered. And now, the final coup-de-grace - Daddy grabbed the diaper and pulled it up through Ryan’s legs, meeting the tapes at his hips and taping it up tightly and securely. He made sure it was fitted as snugly and securely to him as possible, before standing back to admire his handiwork. “There… that’s much better than those silly big boy pants. How does baby like his new diapers?” Ryan looked down, his heart pounding with euphoria, to see his crotch now encased in a thick white mass. They really were thick - Ryan brought his legs together experimentally, and found he could no longer touch his knees together, as the sheer bulk forced his legs apart. He also noted the crinkling sound that accompanied even the slightest of movements - he touched the front, and rubbed it a little bit. Crinkle crinkle. He could barely even feel his penis underneath the thick layer of plastic padding; an impressive feat considering how rock-hard it was. When he touched his dick, Daddy immediately took his hand and gave it a sharp slap, giving Ryan a considerable fright. Ryan looked up at him, looking almost offended, but withered against Daddy’s dead-serious face. He was in trouble. “Naughty baby! You don’t touch your diaper or your private parts. That’s Daddy’s territory. If you’re a very good boy, I might let you have some fun, but you have to earn that privilege. Understand?” Ryan realised what he was doing; orgasm denial. It took second-stage to his babying fantasies, but Ryan did always find the idea of only being allowed to cum when his Daddy gave him permission to do so, kinda hot. He nodded silently, and when he was given another insistent look, added, “Yes Daddy.” “Good boy! Now sit up for Daddy.” Ryan moved himself into a sitting position (crinkle crinkle… God, he could never tire of that wonderful sound) and waited. He wondered how ridiculous he might have looked to anyone else right now - this well-toned 18-year-old guy in a massive baby’s diaper. At least Janine wasn’t here; she’d have a field day. Daddy had gone to the wardrobe, and ruffled through a few items before saying, “Aaaah,” this will look just precious with your new diapers," he cooed. He returned to Ryan’s side, holding a baby blue T-shirt with a pastel yellow pocket complete with a little picture of Winnie-the-Pooh on the front, and light purple sleeves, with a white collar. It was the most babyish, adorable T-shirt Ryan had ever seen. “Arms up!” Ryan did so, and the shirt was promptly thrust through his arms, and pulled down. Ryan looked down and noticed that the shirt stopped just centimetres of the top of the diaper’s waistband, not even pretending to cover it up in any way, exposing it for any and all to see. “I would’ve dressed you in some shortalls or a onesie, but your new diapers look just so precious on you, I just have to show them off this time! What do you think, Baby Ryan? I think you look super handsome.” Ryan nodded in agreement. “One more thing,” Daddy said, turning his attention to the shelves beside the changing table. “Now you’ve been a very good boy, not crying or throwing a tantrum for Daddy, but I think we’d better give you your paci for now, just in case.” Daddy returned with a large yellow Winnie-the-Pooh pacifier, matching the pocket on his shirt. He pressed the large rubber nipple gently against Ryan’s lips, causing him to open them and accept the pacifier. The nipple was really quite big, and filled Ryan’s mouth causing his cheeks to puff out just a bit. He gave it an appreciative suckle, making Daddy beam widely. “I bet you’re a hungry little tyke now, aren’t you?” Almost on cue, Ryan’s stomach rumbled in agreement. He couldn’t help but smile behind the pacifier at it, and kept sucking away happily. Daddy picked Ryan up by the armpits once again, as effortlessly as ever, and set him down on the soft carpeted floor, adding, “Well, you just wait here for a little bit while Daddy fixes you a nice, yummy bottle of milk.” He gave Ryan a crinkly pat on the bottom, making him blush a little bit, before heading down to the kitchen. Chapter 8 - Bottle Time! Ryan sat on the floor motionless for a few moments, dumbstruck that this was really happening to him. He gazed around the room once more, drinking in the sights, before resting on the “Baby Ryan” sign above the changing table. “Baby Ryan,” he said out loud to no one in particular, forgetting for a second that his pacifier was in his mouth and startling himself with his muffled voice. It was a cute name all right. He shifted a bit, the crinkling sound bringing him back to the fact that yes, he was wearing a diaper - a proper, thick baby’s diaper. It was an odd feeling having so much padding around your crotch, but it was surprisingly comfortable. The plastic front was so shiny and reflective, Ryan could almost see his reflection when he gazed down at it. He poked and prodded it some more just so he could hear that wonderfully babyish crinkling noise, opening and closing his legs, sniffing it to get more of that sweet powder smell. He rubbed it again. And again. And again. And again… ‘Whoops,’ he thought to himself when he realised he was getting a bit carried away with his vigorous rubbing. He decided he’d better distract himself; didn’t want to get on Daddy’s bad side too quickly. Besides, he didn’t wanna just blow his load straight away, when there was still so much more to come. ‘Heh, come.’ Ryan was nothing if not a true comedian when no one was around to hear his wisdom. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the mirror. He realised he hadn’t actually seen his reflection yet, so he shuffled on over to that on his knees. When he saw himself, he couldn’t suppress a gasp. He looked so positively infantile he couldn’t believe it. The T-shirt, the massive diaper, the pacifier making his face look all pouty and adorable… He sucked on it for a while, watching himself do so. He turned around to look at his behind; his butt never looked so puffy. Ryan had spent countless times staring at himself in the mirror imagining himself in diapers and baby clothes; but now he didn’t have to imagine it anymore, it was really happening. It still felt so surreal, like a lucid dream. He patted his big butt curiously, much like Daddy had done before. They somehow looked even thicker in the mirror, and Ryan simply couldn’t help but blush from embarrassment, even if no one at all was around to see him in that moment. There was still that part of him that knew he should probably feel ashamed, but right now, his acute embarrassment only made his dick strain even harder against its tight plastic padding. Ryan sat in front of the mirror for a few minutes longer, transfixed by his new outfit, before Daddy came stomping back up the stairs. He returned with a few bottles full of milk in his arms, setting them down on a table by the rocking chair and turning to Ryan. “Goodness me,” he said with a chuckle, “Baby sure seems to love his new diapers!” Ryan blushed again and looked down with a nervous smile. “Don’t be embarrassed, tiger. You’ll be wearing them for a while now, so you might as well get used to them! Now come on, it’s time for a nice baba. Doesn’t that sound nice?” Ryan was lifted up and carried over to the rocking chair. Daddy got comfortable in the big chair, sitting Ryan so that he was cradled in his arms securely. It was incredibly intimate - Ryan could almost hear his heartbeat, and his warm, fuzzy arms held him tightly, making him feel very safe. Ryan was starting to feel very peaceful - he figured he was entering his “little space” he always read about online, for the very first time. He started gently, rhythmically sucking on his pacifier as he snuggled up to Daddy. Daddy lifted Ryan’s head a little, before grabbing the bottle. He removed the pacifier from his lips, before gently replacing it with the large nipple of the bottle, and Ryan continued sucking. It took a little while to get the hang of drinking from a bottle, but eventually he got it down pat, and the milk began to flow steadily down his throat as he kept rhythmically sucking away and Daddy began rocking gently. The milk was rather warm, and tasted a bit sweet; not your usual milk. Ryan wondered to himself for a bit what exactly was in the milk - he detected a slight tinge of something medicinal. But the drink overall tasted so good, and it made him feel very warm and calm inside. The combination of the calming milk, the gentle, hypnotic sucking action of being bottlefed, and being held so tightly and warmly in Daddy’s arms as he gently rocked made Ryan feel so incredibly peaceful, and he closed his eyes. All his doubts and inhibitions and feelings of shame about being treated like an infant simply melted away, allowing him to simply lose himself in a state of infantile bliss. All that mattered in this moment was the yummy taste of the warm milk. A few minutes later, Ryan finished the bottle. He felt very satisfied, almost groggy even from the mixture. He opened his eyes to see Daddy putting the empty bottle to the side and immediately grabbing another. “Round two,” Ryan thought to himself as the second bottle was pushed into his mouth, and he resumed his suckling and returned to his babyish haze. By the end of this second bottle, Ryan was starting to feel full. In fact, he could feel his belly beginning to swell out just a bit from the amount of fluids he was being fed. Daddy grabbed the third bottle, and Ryan started to feel a bit nervous. He was full by now, sure, but that wasn’t all - the coffee from earlier had also worked its way through his system by now, and he felt a quickly onsetting urge to pee. He squirmed uncomfortably while Daddy fed him the last of his third helping, knowing that he needed to go fairly soon. By now, his tummy was pudging out quite a bit, full of the yummy, unusual milk. “One more,” Daddy said cheerfully, probably noting Ryan’s uncomfortable expressions. He knew he was going to wet himself, but his subconscious was fighting dearly against it, and winning. Ryan almost wanted to just lose control and wet helplessly, but he knew 17 years of potty training weren’t just going to go away like that. And, if he thought about it, it would be better if it didn’t - this whole thing wasn’t going to be permanent after all, and he needed to get back to a life after it. But he could worry about that after his bottle. Ryan was positively bloated after one last bottle of milk, and then Daddy sits up, throwing Ryan over his shoulder in a tight bear hug. Ryan almost hugs him back, thinking it to be just an expression of intimacy and fatherly love, but when Daddy starts roughly patting him on the back, he gives himself a small jump when he burps loudly. Ryan blushed again at his rude utterance, and Daddy stuck his pacifier straight back into his mouth. “Playtime!” He said chirpily. Chapter 9 - Play Time! Most 18-year-olds might scoff at the idea of spending their morning playing with blocks and toy cars, but Ryan was no ordinary 18-year-old; right now, that sounded like the perfect way to spend a morning after being changed into a diaper and bottlefed some delicious milk. Daddy seemed to have started off with bottlefeeding to get Ryan into the perfect babyish headspace from the get-go, and boy did it work. Sucking away happily on his pacifier (he could really get used to this, it was quite soothing), Ryan lost himself in his inner child and built towers out of blocks, grabbing the cars and sending them crashing to the ground as he rammed the cars into them. Daddy watched him, grinning from ear to ear as he observed the teenager slipping so easily into his newfound infantile role. He really did choose the perfect boy. Ryan was amazed at how entertaining this could be - an hour later, he was still playing… but more urgent matters were demanding his attention. The need to pee had grown more and more urgent with every passing minute, and Ryan even went to go to the toilet once or twice before he realised himself. He tried to wet himself, but he just couldn’t even force himself to do it - there was, unfortunately, some sort of mental roadblock preventing him from engaging in such an obviously infantile act. “Alright, baby, Daddy has things to attend to, but he’ll be back super soon, okay?” Ryan was disappointed that Daddy was leaving so soon, but he gave him a hug and Daddy gave him a little peck on the cheek (causing Ryan to blush a little) and was left to his own devices. Now on his own, Ryan became a little self-conscious again. When Daddy was playing with him and encouraging him, he didn’t mind acting so infantile, but now his inner monologue wasn’t drowned out by Daddy’s encouraging and gentle words, and it let him know how ridiculous he really looked. Ryan blushed a little again. He looked over to the mirror, and caught sight of him sucking unconsciously on the pacifier, and spat it out immediately in embarrassment. Ryan was a little concerned about how easily he seemed to be slipping into his newfound babyhood. He’d read a million stories about this - the naive young man put back into diapers and babied to the point of losing his mind and turning into a real baby. Of course those stories were mostly just thinly disguised fap material, but he still didn’t want to get too lost in it - who knows what could happen? But he had other matters to attend to right now, like the sudden return of his need to pee, stronger than ever. “All you have to do is let go and pee,” Ryan said in his mind. “Just let go, wet yourself.” Ryan looked down again at the thick padding bunched between his smooth, youthful thighs. He spent his entire adolescence fantasising of wetting a diaper, but now he couldn’t even bring himself to do it; it seemed his pride was just getting in the way. Frankly, the whole experience was tainted now. He wanted out. Daddy… the man, was still gone. Ryan knew he would be disappointed that he got cold feet, and he himself was disappointed to lose this opportunity, but Ryan just couldn’t justify carrying this charade on anymore. Like, what was he thinking? He knew he couldn’t really just get away with disappearing an entire summer. And his parents would likely find out about his secret, and then what would he do? He just had to wait for him to return and break the news. Minutes passed, though, and he still hadn’t returned. Now the urge was to pee grew painful, and Ryan was worried. What was he doing? Ryan couldn’t wait anymore. He had to go and find him. He went to stand up… …and stumbled, landing flat on his stomach. He gave himself such a fright, his bladder immediately let go and flooded his diaper. The crotch grew warm and damp as it expanded with the urine being released into it. Ryan got back onto his knees and touched the front of the diaper, still somewhat paralysed with the surprise of it. The diaper was now soggy and damp, and squelched instead of crinkled. He really did it. Ryan wet his diaper, and really it was actually somewhat of an accident. Almost immediately after, Ryan heard the distant stomp of footsteps coming closer. The man was returning. “Hello baby, I’m back,” he beamed before noticing Ryan looking down at the ground. “Is something wrong?” Ryan could finally tell him the bad news, that he was having second thoughts and wanted to leave… “I wet my diaper. Could you change me… Daddy?” Chapter 10 - Messy Time? It was a strange series of events that ultimately led to the captain of the hockey team and one of the most popular jocks in school to be laid down on a padded changing table to have his puffy wet diaper changed by a man he’d never met until today - that same man he now called his Daddy - while he sucked placidly on a bottle of juice. Ryan was thinking deep about the situation now. He’d very seriously intended on bailing on the whole charade, right up until Daddy walked back in. For some reason, as soon as he walked in, Ryan’s will just melted away. It seemed like even if he wanted to get out, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Daddy… the man… Daddy. And frankly, right now he didn’t really want to. Daddy had cooed to him after realising he was wet, praising him for being a good little boy and using his diapers just like he was meant to. It was a little embarrassing but still made him all warm and fuzzy inside. He had gently laid him out on the changing table and untaped the sodden garment, and was now wiping him down lovingly, giving Ryan yet another surprise boner. Stopping just short of climax once again, to Ryan’s building frustration, he instead went to wiping down his bottom. Ryan was lost in the ecstasy of the moment as Daddy caressed his smooth bottom… and then yelped in shock when he shoved something straight up his hole. It seemed like just his finger at first, but Ryan could’ve sworn there was still something there when he retracted his finger and, oddly, taped the wet diaper back up. That was odd. Why did he go to all that trouble just to wipe him down a little bit and put him back in the same diaper? Daddy blew a raspberry on Ryan’s stomach, making him squirm and giggle a little bit, completely pushing the diaper situation out of his mind. Ryan finished the bottle just as Daddy picked him up again and brought him over to the rocking chair. Ryan sat in Daddy’s lap while he fussed over his new baby boy, stroking his hair and patting his soggy bottom. Ryan blushed and smiled, quickly learning to grow out of his embarrassment over being coddled and babied. About a minute or so later, Ryan’s tummy started to feel funny. He thought it was just a bit of gas, and he farted loudly, giggling at Daddy’s feigned shock reaction. But it kept gurgling away, and Ryan realised with slowly creeping dread that the urge to poop was growing with unsettling speed. He looked at Daddy, who kept smiling. “Uh… I have to go poop,” Ryan said, blushing profusely. “Yeah?” Daddy cocked an eyebrow knowingly. “Well, what are we gonna do about that, little man?” “Well, uh… could you take my diaper off so I can go to the, uh, potty? …Please?” Daddy chuckled, pinched Ryan’s cheek and said, “Silly baby! Little boys in diapers don’t use the potty, remember? They do all their business in their diapers!” “Wh-what? But I don’t wanna mess… I don’t like it, this wasn’t part of the de—“ Ryan was swiftly silenced by a sharp smack on the thigh. “You will use your diapers as fully intended, baby! And yes, that does include going poopy! The only time I will ever take off your diapers is when I’m changing you into a fresh one, or when it’s bath time! If you ever try and hold off from messing, I’ll know, and I’ll give you something so you don’t have any choice. Just like the suppository I gave you just before.” Ryan started to get very uncomfortable. He really didn’t want to mess; as much as he always liked the idea of it, the current reality of actually soiling himself was a bit too intense. Admittedly, not as intense as the ever-growing urge to let go. He started to squirm in discomfort, and Daddy held him tightly, whispering in his ear. “Shhh… it’s okay, baby. Don’t worry. It’s coming, so just sit still for Daddy and let it happen.” Intense stomach cramps, wave after wave, hit Ryan and he started moaning in discomfort. Just as the urge disappeared, it immediately came rushing back harder and more intense than ever. Daddy just held him tightly in his arms, gently reassuring him and rubbing his back soothingly. “It’ll be over soon, baby boy… shhh… just let it happen!” Ryan couldn’t even struggle against Daddy’s iron grip, and could only whimper as he tried to put up a fight against his ever-weakening bowel muscles. Eventually, Ryan finally farted like he had never done before, followed by another big, slightly runny fart, and finally, all at once, a hot rush of mushy, warm poo completely filled into his diaper and smeared all over his bottom and even up his crotch. Ryan was in shock. He had never even crapped himself as a child, but now here he was, the high school graduate in a completely soiled diaper. Daddy released Ryan from his grip, still patting his back. “There there, little man…” he gently whispered. “All better?” Ryan was petrified with shock, unable to muster the ability to speak at all let alone reply to him, so he just nodded without making a sound. “Good boy. And stinky boy for sure! Big poopies for such a little guy, guess you really do need these big thick diapers, huh?” Daddy beamed and patted Ryan’s bottom, mushing it about even more and making him squirm in discomfort. Ryan was genuinely humiliated, and Daddy noticed. “Aww… is widdle Ryan embarrassed about his stinky winkies? It’s OK to make poopies, little guy! That’s why Daddy keeps you in diapers, after all. Daddy thinks you need a change though. Don’t you agree?” Ryan nodded again, still too humiliated to speak. “Hmm, I’m not sure… you need to ask Daddy nicely.” Ryan swallowed, trying to clear the lump in his throat. “Wil-will you change me please?” He received a sharp slap on the thigh for that. “That’s not how little babies ask for their diapies to be changed! You need to tell daddy what you’ve done, and ask him very nicely to help.” Ryan blushed furiously, harder than ever. He put on a babyish tone and slowly said, “Daddy… I made poopies in my diapee… Can you change me… pwease?” Daddy pinched Ryan’s cheek and gave him a few good bounces on the knee, smushing the mess about again. “Good baby!” He exclaimed. “Time for a change.” Chapter 11 - A Change Well Earned Ryan was in something of a state of shock as Daddy carried him gently over to the changing table. He couldn’t quite believe that he had really done that; just completely soiled himself, let alone in front of another person. He was petrified with humiliation and felt incredibly babyish, much like he did being bottle fed earlier. But this wasn’t the soothing, innocent babyish feeling like that one; Ryan felt completely helpless and at his Daddy’s mercy as he was gingerly laid down onto the table. This, he realised, was the reality of being a baby: complete and utter powerlessness over yourself. Ryan was brought back to reality as his soiled diapered butt made contact with the table. He was blushing furiously, and must’ve looked as if he was ready to cry or something as Daddy pushed his pacifier between his lips. Ryan gladly accepted it and placidly sucked while Daddy set to work untaping his diaper. Daddy exclaimed as the offensive bundle was released from Ryan’s side and the smell escaped. “Goodness me, Ryan, you are definitely a stinky baby huh?” Ryan could only blush and close his eyes as he sucked harder on the pacifier, trying hard to distract himself. Daddy just smiled at Ryan’s embarrassment as he started wiping his messy bottom down. “Don’t be embarrassed, tiger. Babies don’t need to use the potty after all. It’s OK to make poopies in your diapies. We’ll have lots more smelly diapers to come, don’t you worry. You’ll get used to it.” Funnily enough, despite (or maybe because of) Ryan’s intense humiliation, he was now completely rock-hard. Daddy noticed, and teased him a little bit by stroking his cock a little bit. He stopped before Ryan could climax, making him huff in frustration. Daddy grinned at this outburst. “Aww, I’m sorry baby, did you wanna cum? Poor baby. Daddy’s gotta make sure you aren’t naughty and playing with yourself. So if you’re a good boy, he might let you cum.” Ryan got the gist. As long as he didn’t act up or protest or resist, he would eventually get his reward. Daddy finished cleaning Ryan’s poopy butt off, and got him all nice and clean and taped up into a dry, clean new diaper. Daddy sat him up, patted his crinkly bottom and said, “Now there’s a happy baby. All cleaned up and changed into a nice clean diaper. What do you say?” “Fankyoo Daddy,” Ryan said, forgetting about the pacifier in his mouth that garbled his speech. Daddy chuckled as Ryan blushed. “I think it’s about lunch time!” Chapter 12 - A Nutritious Lunch Over the past few hours Ryan had been through so much in the name of babying that compared to shitting his diaper, being fed lunch wasn’t really anything at all to him. Daddy picked Ryan up and threw him over his shoulder with ease as he carried him downstairs to the kitchen, one hand cheerfully patting his diapered bum. A big highchair sat by the table where a normal chair might sit, complete with a “seat belt” strap in the seat and wrist restraints. Thankfully Daddy didn’t strap Ryan’s arms into those, but he did strap him into the seat before sliding the tray into place. Noticing Ryan’s concerned face at the wrist straps, Daddy said, “Those are only for naughty babies who make a fuss at mealtime. But you’re a good baby, right Ryan?” He nodded. Daddy set to work preparing Ryan’s lunch. He couldn’t see what he was preparing, but it smelled… Interesting. A few minutes later, Daddy came over with a big yellow Winnie-the-Pooh bib to tie around Ryan’s neck, before setting down a bowl of steaming mush. “Ready for num nums?” Daddy asked. Almost as if on cue, Ryan’s tummy rumbled audibly. He blushed as Daddy took his paci out and grabbed a spoonful of mush. “Here comes the Choo-Choo train!” Ryan didn’t really know how to react, so he didn’t open his mouth in time before the spoon collided with his lips, smushing the spoonful on his chin. “Silly baby,” Daddy chuckled, “Open wide now!” Ryan opened up and let the spoon fill his mouth. He gagged a little at the taste - mashed carrot. He couldn’t help but dribble a little bit more onto his bib. He felt, and no doubt in his mind looked absolutely ridiculous. But before he could even finish swallowing, Daddy had another spoonful on its way. Daddy fed Ryan at this speed throughout, ensuring that he couldn’t quite stop himself from missing or making a mess every now and then. Daddy retrieved a second bowl, this time of mashed apple, and repeated the process. Ryan was pretty full by the end of it, and an absolute mess - face, chin and bib covered in mushy baby food. But before Ryan was released, Daddy gave him one more bottle of milk, which he eagerly lapped down. Daddy finally wiped Ryan’s face clean with his bib, before releasing him and burping him again. Ryan was feeling positively blissful. After a somewhat traumatic experience in messing his diaper, he was now fed, burped and feeling really quite sleepy. Daddy picked up on this. “Hmm, baby’s getting sleepy huh? I think widdle Ryan needs a nap. Come on, daddy’ll put you down in your crib.” Putting his paci back in his mouth, Ryan placidly sucked as Daddy took him upstairs and laid him down in the big, cosy crib. Daddy pulled the curtains shut, and gave Ryan a cute teddy to cuddle while he tucked him in. “Sleep tight my beautiful baby boy,” Daddy whispered lovingly. “You’re going to love it here.” With a kiss on the forehead, Daddy raised the side of the crib and locked it into place, before turning on the stars and planets that hung over Ryan’s head making them spin. He locked the door behind him. Ryan was in bliss. He felt so light and fluffy, watching the stars spin as his eyes felt heavier and heavier. Before he fell asleep totally, he felt another urge to pee. But to his surprise, he found he could just let go and flood his diaper again, feeling the crinkly plastic grow warm and expand with his sogginess. Ryan smiled as he sucked his paci and closed his eyes, drifting peacefully off to a dreamless sleep. This was perfect. Chapter 13 - Lessons Learned Ryan learned a lot of things over that next week or so, living with Daddy. Lesson Number 1: life as a baby is very routine. After the first day, Daddy had quickly settled Ryan into a very consistent and repetitive daily routine. He’d wake up around 7.30, waiting for Daddy to come greet him before taking him downstairs for a spoon fed breakfast in his highchair (usually oatmeal and a bottle of milk). Following that, Daddy would take Ryan up for a diaper change into his outfit for the day - sometimes a cute onesie, a pair of shortalls, even just a T-shirt sometimes, but always with a thick, crinkly diaper around his waist. Then it was playtime for a few hours; he’d play with the toys and blocks and cars, which Daddy occasionally played along with, or if he was extra good he could watch some Teletubbies or Barney on the TV. Then it’d be lunch in the highchair around 12 or 1, followed by a nap in the crib for an hour or so. After his nap, Ryan would play for a bit more until dinner, followed by a bath, one last bottle and bedtime at 7pm sharp. Throughout the day there would be at least 3 or 4 wet diaper changes (and usually at least one messy one too), and playtime was occasionally interrupted for a bottle in daddy’s lap. This leads into Lesson Number 2: it was pretty easy to slip into the baby role once you stopped getting so embarrassed about it. Ryan was a mess of embarrassment and shame on his first day as a baby. But once he realised that no one here was going to judge him in any way, he was able to just lose himself in his newfound infancy and enjoy the complete lack of worry and responsibility that life as an infant enabled. He could play with the trucks and blocks as much as he pleased and he didn’t have to worry about school, work, money, parents, anything. Hell, he didn’t even have to worry about wiping his own ass anymore. After a few days, Daddy let Ryan cum too. But the catch was, since he wasn’t allowed to touch his diaper, he had to hump himself to climax. Ryan was so backed up that it still didn’t take long for him to absolutely explode, and Daddy praised him, reminding him that as long as he’s good and Daddy doesn’t have to punish him, he can do that again very soon. And once he got over that embarrassment hurdle, inhabiting the mind space was also easy. He grew to love the soothing rhythm of sucking on a bottle of milk. He could just let go into his diaper knowing Daddy would always be there to clean him up afterward. Even the TV shows were really entertaining once you stop caring about how old you supposedly “really” are. Life as a baby was pretty sweet. Except when it wasn’t, which brings Ryan to Lesson Number 3: being a baby kinda sucks sometimes. First of all, babies do kinda lead boring lives. They watch simple TV shows, and play with simple toys, and always need to be cared for and kept safe at every moment. There’s no excitement or risk; the biggest thrill ride of the day was if Ryan got to watch two episodes of Dora the Explorer instead of one. And the routine was repetitive sometimes to the point of mind numbing. Ryan had to struggle to remember what day it was, because they all blurred into one. Not to mention all the rules he had to follow and privileges he was no longer allowed. He wasn’t allowed to talk like a “big boy”, as Daddy said, and although he was warned at first if he didn’t talk in a sufficiently babyish manner, eventually Daddy would spank him every time and make him keep his pacifier in his mouth for a few hours. It wasn’t the only thing that would earn Ryan a spanking now either; refusing food, standing up instead of crawling, playing with himself, resisting a diaper change or doing anything that wasn’t totally consistent with a baby’s mindset was severely punished. And because Ryan inevitably slipped up at least once a day, it meant that since the first time he came, he had yet to earn the privilege again a week later. He was so frustrated but even trying to touch himself only meant he had to wait longer still. His least favourite punishment came about because he wouldn’t stop touching himself - Daddy put his hands in super thick white mittens that stopped him from being able to even play with his toys, let alone play with himself. He felt impossibly infantile with them, and vowed never to touch himself for the rest of the stay if that was the punishment. And there were countless other things about adult life that Ryan never even thought about until he was no longer permitted them. His diet now consisted solely of spoonfed mushy baby food and bottles of either juice or daddy’s specially made milk, and he certainly was never allowed to feed himself. The early bedtimes were also kind of a drag, especially since the sun would still peek through the curtains in the evening as he was tucked into his crib. Even Daddy was kinda getting to him in a way; he was intent on making sure Ryan knew he was the baby in this situation, so he always talked to him as if he were talking to a one-year-old. He never called him just Ryan; it was always ‘baby Ryan’, or even just ‘baby’ or ‘little man’. The lamest thing about being a baby was the complete lack of privacy it now meant. Daddy had complete authority over every single aspect of Ryan’s life now - he controlled when and what he ate, what he did, what he wore, when he slept, even what he said. Ryan had no independence or control over himself whatsoever. He was truly as helpless and dependent as a little baby. But it was easy enough to just lose yourself in the baby life. In fact, this led Ryan to the final Lesson, Number 4: it was kinda too easy to lose yourself in the baby life. Daddy was very intent on Ryan being dependent on his diapers for all his needs - he fed him lots of bottles to make sure he was constantly taking in fluids and thus constantly wetting. Even worse, he gave Ryan more than a few more suppositories after the first one to get him messing with ease. And they both worked with almost frightening effectiveness - Ryan didn’t even need to force himself to wet within a few days as he’d just let go and start peeing, and by the 6th day he just had to push a little bit before he found himself sitting in a messy smelly diaper. By the 9th day, Ryan started waking up soaked with no memory of wetting in the night. By that next afternoon, he was playing with his trucks when he felt his diaper suddenly growing warm as he wet himself unknowingly. Ryan was increasingly uncomfortable with the fact that he seemed to be losing control of his bodily functions against his will. But it wasn’t just his toilet training that seemed to be reversing. With all the forced pacifier use as punishment for big boy talk, Ryan started to really get fixated on it. He really did enjoy just sucking on it, and it was the best way to calm down if he was upset after a punishment. Once or twice, when it wasn’t nearby, he would instead start sucking on his thumb subconsciously. The baby treatment had physical implications too. The diet of baby food and milk meant Ryan’s messes became runnier and easier to just let go. And the diet combined with the lack of physical stimulation meant Ryan’s ripped chest and stomach had already started to devolve into a slightly chubbier build. He’d need to hit the gym big time at the end of this, he noted. No doubt a significant time on a diet like this would weaken him beyond help. Most of all though, Ryan was just bored with the routine. Daddy could tell. Ryan needed some excitement. So on the 13th day of his stay, Daddy got up extra early to prepare for Ryan’s big day. He packed a big Winnie-the-Pooh bag full of powder, wipes, an outfit change, a bottle, paci, bib, and a few diapers of course. All ready for his day out. Chapter 14 - A Grand Day Out Ryan stirred as the sunlight streamed in through the bars of the crib. Opening his eyes, he adjusted to the sight of his nursery he had grown so accustomed to over the past 13 days. He moaned behind his pacifier and grabbed Robbie, his favourite rabbit plushie. His diaper felt incredibly damp and saggy between his legs. It was a fantastic feeling, even if concerning that bed wetting was now a very real thing for him. He was rock hard but didn’t dare even hump the crib without daddy’s permission. Another day locked in mittens didn’t sound pleasant in any way whatsoever. Nonetheless, the blue onesie (complete with tiny little bottles and teddies all over!) strained against the heavy diaper, pressing it tight against Ryan’s crotch. At least it felt good. Daddy came in right on schedule. “Rise and shine my baby boy, time for num nums!” Ryan rolled over and couldn’t help but smile up at Daddy. For all of his strictness and control, he was always loving and cheerful… At least when Ryan wasn’t being punished, that is. “How’s my baby doing this morning? Hmm, soaked as usual… But at least you’re not leaky today!” Ryan blushed. Yesterday morning he was so wet that he had actually leaked through his diaper and soaked his sheets. Daddy wasn’t mad at him, but he did say that if it happened again, Ryan would need to wear double thick diapers to bed from now on. The diapers he already wore were thick enough without extra layers, so he was quietly grateful he didn’t have to endure that, and grateful his bed wetting wasn’t quite at crisis mode… Yet. Daddy lowered the crib side and picked Ryan up over his shoulder to carry him downstairs. He set him up in the highchair and strapped him in, pottering about preparing breakfast. Ryan was grateful not to have his arms strapped down this time - Daddy had done so three days ago, when he had earned his hands in mittens. That wasn’t a fun day. Bib around his neck and paci out, Daddy set to work feeding Ryan his breakfast. Oatmeal was on the menu today, and as usual Daddy somehow seemed to make sure Ryan still ended up with mush over his face, chin and bib. While Ryan sucked on his usual morning milk, Daddy sat down to his own breakfast - bacon and eggs on toast. It had been so long since he’d had solid foods, Ryan had almost forgotten what it tastes like. Two weeks on a diet of mush meant he didn’t really notice the taste anymore, but he still missed big boy food. He was grateful then that his time was almost over. The bottle finished, Daddy cleaned Ryan up and burped him, before carrying him upstairs again to get ready for the day. “Big day for you today, little guy!” Daddy said as he laid Ryan down on the changing table. He untapped the sodden garment and wiped Ryan’s damp crotch down as usual… But instead of taping another thick diaper around his waist, Daddy slid a pair of white briefs through Ryan’s feet and up around his waist. What was going on? “Daddy has some errands that he needs to do today. Normally I’d get a babysitter for you, but it’s not possible at such short notice, so instead you’ll be coming with me today! Are you ready to be a big boy just for today, baby?” Ryan flushed with nerves. He was anxious about anyone seeing him in this state… But, he reasoned, at least Daddy wasn’t making him go out diapered. And it’s not like he had anything resembling a choice these days anyway. Daddy dressed Ryan up in a light blue polo shirt, khaki shorts, and sneakers with ankle socks. He looked a bit like an overgrown child, but he supposed at least that was better than an overgrown baby. Ryan was strapped into the car seat again, but that wasn’t so bad. If he knew what was coming for him on his outing with Daddy, however, he might’ve just preferred the mittens at home. Chapter 15 - Big Boy Denied If Ryan thought that just because Daddy dressed him as a somewhat more mature kid rather than a complete infant, that meant he would be treating him as more of an equal… Well, he was sorely mistaken. As soon as Daddy pulled into the parking lot of the mall and unbuckled him from his car seat, Ryan was made to hold Daddy’s hand wherever they went, from the bank to the hardware store. Since Daddy looked old enough to be Ryan’s actual father, it made at least a few people do a double take and raise an eyebrow at the late teenager in the juvenile outfit holding the older mans hand. But to Ryan’s moderate relief, most people didn’t really look twice. It felt really weird to be walking around in normal underwear again. Ryan was now so used to having a thick layer of crinkly plastic padding encasing his crotch 24/7 that he felt oddly naked in just the thin white cotton briefs. Not to mention the baby talk which still didn’t quite relent much at all; Daddy still talked to Ryan as if he was really a toddler. “You want a lollipop, little guy?” He asked while they were in line at the pharmacy. Ryan nodded, blushing since there were definitely other people in earshot. “And one lollipop for my special little guy!” He exclaimed once they reached the counter. The cashier smiled tentatively at Ryan, who avoided eye contact. “Ryan loves lollipops, don’t you? Here you go, little guy. What do you say?” Not even daring to look up, Ryan muttered, “Thank you.” Daddy looked sternly at him while squeezing his hand and said, “I think you can do better than that, Ryan. Say thank you to the nice lady for your lollipop.” Ryan blushed a furious red as he looked up and made eye contact with the still-smiling woman and said in a slightly shaking voice, “Thank you for the lollipop. Daddy just tutted. “Kids,” he said to the cashier with a chuckle. She laughed in response, but was clearly very bemused by the entire situation. Ryan popped the lollipop into his mouth to distract himself from the embarrassment, especially since everyone behind them in line was now staring. He really quite enjoyed the lollipop a surprising amount; probably because it reminded him of his paci which he found himself craving a lot. “Okay tiger, we’ve just gotta stop in at the grocery store and then we’ll get you some McDonald’s for being such a good boy today!” Ryan beamed with happiness - finally some food that wasn’t just mush! Before they went into the store, Daddy grabbed a large bag from the backseat and put it around his shoulder. Ryan knew not to question daddy so he said nothing. Daddy led him by the hand again into the store. It was around the dairy aisle that the cramps started to hit Ryan. It was nearly 11am - around this time every day he would have his morning mess, and the bowel train was right on schedule. He almost just let go right there, until he remembered that he wasn’t in a diaper. Shit, that was a close one. He tugged at Daddy’s arm. “Yes, what is it sport?” “I, uh… I have to go potty.” “Oh yeah? Well, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to wait until we get to McDonald’s, sport. There’s no bathroom here.” Ryan whined, but Daddy slapped his wrist and he shut up. Daddy was taking his time with the groceries, and as Ryan realised, it took a lot more effort holding it in now than it did two weeks ago. He knew that if he let his mind wander for just a few moments, his body would take over and he’d immediately lose contr— “Hey Ryan, you’re back! Wait, who’s that guy and why are you… Uh, holding his hand?” Ryan froze, first at the sound of Jeremy Linnard’s voice and then at the all-too-familiar sensation of his bowels immediately letting loose, first with a loud fart followed by the seat of his pants filling with a big stinking mushy poop. Sensing the all-clear, his bladder followed suit as he completely flooded his shorts and even made a puddle where he stood. Jeremy and his buddies stared mouth agape as his hockey buddy wet his pants and messed himself all while holding the hand of some older man. “Ryan… Dude… Did you just wet yourself?” The others stared in shock as Daddy turned around. Ryan was completely petrified. “Aww, did my baby boy have an accident? Someone couldn’t even wait until we got to McDonald’s. Oh look at you, you’re soaked! And… Oh my goodness, you went poopies too didn’t you?” There was now a considerable audience to Ryan’s predicament. He could feel tears of humiliation building as Daddy put his arm around him. “Don’t worry little Ryan, Daddy’s here. C’mon, let’s get you changed and cleaned up.” Daddy escorted Ryan away, making sure to walk straight through Jeremy’s group. “Excuse me boys, my lil guy had a big accident so he needs to be changed.” Ryan didn’t dare make eye contact with any of his friends, but he could hear them immediately burst into laughter as daddy walked him to the checkout. “Excuse me ma’am, but my boy here had an accident. Do you think there’s a toilet or changing room nearby where we can get him cleaned up?” The cashier directed Daddy to a changing room nearby. Ryan could feel the eyes of the entire store on him as he was escorted away. He couldn’t help it anymore; he started sobbing. He had never felt so humiliated and degraded in his life. He actually just had an accident in public. Not only that, he shat himself in front of his friends. What the hell were they going to think of him now? Chapter 16 - Back to Basics... Again Once they were alone in the changing room, Daddy threw his arms around Ryan and grabbed him in a tight bear hug. “Shhh… It’s ok, little guy. Daddy knew he shouldn’t trust you in big boy pants. Back to diapers for you. Let’s get you all cleaned up and dressed properly, okay?” Ryan calmed down a little, and just sniffled as daddy unfolded a big changing mat over the cold linoleum floor. He closed his eyes as Daddy pulled his shorts and peeled his briefs off. Ryan dared to peek again as Daddy tutted. “Definitely not a big boy, even these shorts are ruined!” Indeed, the back of the shorts was stained brown as the mess had seeped through his briefs. He couldn’t stop himself whimpering again. “Shhh, don’t cry baby. Here.” Daddy pushed Ryan’s paci into his mouth, and he started sucking immediately. He didn’t care how babyish he felt, it was the only thing that made him feel better right now. After wiping Ryan’s thoroughly poopy bottom down, Daddy pulled out a bottle of powder and not one, but two thick diapers from the bag he had brought in. How coincidental that as soon as Daddy had brought that bag with him, Ryan had a huge accident that necessitated it… Except maybe it wasn’t an accident. Well, it certainly was for Ryan… But maybe Daddy had planned it all. He wanted Ryan to mess in public so he could humiliate him beyond anything else he’d ever experienced. Ryan felt so desperately helpless. He was now beginning to realise just how much power Daddy had over his life. Daddy powdered him up and taped both diapers around his waist. One was thick by itself, but this was something else. “That was a big accident you had, little man. It’s a good thing Daddy packed a change of clothes too, you ruined these shorts and briefs! Daddy’s gotta keep you in double diapers for a while, I think, if you’re having such big accidents. Don’t wanna risk ruining any else of your nice clothes.” Daddy pulled out a change of outfit - his “favourite” light blue T-shirt with tiny teddy bears and bottles adorning every inch, and a pair of denim shortalls with a Winnie-the-Pooh print adorning the bib and snaps in the crotch for easy diaper access. Ryan tried to blink back the tears as Daddy dressed him in the humiliatingly infantile outfit. He got terrified for a moment when it seemed like the snaps weren’t going to fit over his diapers, but thankfully they eventually snapped into place. But that was only a small consolation. Standing up, Ryan still looked incredibly infantile; the shortalls did absolutely nothing to hide the massive diaper bulge and the plastic rims even peeked out of the leg holes. His butt looked massive, and if it wasnt obvious enough to almost anyone that he was wearing a big diaper underneath his clothes, the forced waddle caused by his legs being spread apart by the thick plastic and the extremely audible crinkle was proof. And the Velcro shoes and socks combo may have made him look like a bit of a kid before, but now combined with his new outfit, he looked nothing more than an absolute baby. “Good baby,” Daddy chuckled. “One last thing…” He retrieved a Winnie the Pooh pacifier clip from the bag, and attached it to his shortalls bib. “Daddy knows how much you love your binkie little man, so this is so you don’t lose it.” Ryan suckled in meek appreciation. “Okay, back to shopping and then lunch!” Chapter 17 - Baby on Board Ryan felt as if the eyes of the entire store were on him as Daddy marched him by the hand toward the cashier. It didn’t matter that no one was particularly staring aside from a few double takes. The undeniably and overtly infantile outfit, the massive bulge in his crotch, the obvious crinkle sound that Ryan made with every step that now seemed louder than ever (or maybe Ryan was just more conscious of it than ever), and of course the goofy waddle that the thick diapers and Daddy’s brisk stride forced him into… Ryan would’ve felt completely humiliated even if there was no one in the store at all. “Sorry about that,” Daddy said cheerfully to the cashier. “My poor lil guy had an accident so we had to get him all changed and dressed more appropriately.” Ryan blushed furiously as Daddy ruffled his hair. The cashier smiled at Ryan bemusedly, looking his outfit up and down. Ryan realised he had still been sucking away on his paci the whole time and spat it out immediately. “Ah ah ah, you keep that in for now, little guy.” Daddy immediately retrieved the pacifier hanging down on Ryan’s front and shoved it back in his mouth. Ryan whined quietly to himself. “You just keep sucking on your binkie until Daddy says so.” He turned to the cashier and chuckled, shaking his head. “Kids…” The cashier continued staring at Ryan even while he was scanning the items. “So if you don’t mind me asking,” he started, “why is he dressed like a baby and all? It’s a pretty good costume.” “Oh this isn’t a costume,” Daddy smiled, “these are little Ryan’s normal clothes! He is kind of just a big baby boy, you see. He uses his diapers, sleeps in his crib and plays with his toys and everything. Normally at home I just keep him in a T-shirt and diaper; makes it easier to see when he needs changing. He’s a little stinker, all right! Aww, he’s embarrassed. It’s ok, little guy, we’ll go get you some lunch now, yeah?” Ryan was just about in tears again as Daddy led him out of the store finally. He could’ve sworn he saw the cashier whip out his phone and record his crinkly waddling bottom as he left. Finally he was in the car, the car seat straps feeling even tighter against Ryan’s massively puffy crotch. Daddy pinched his cheek and smiled. “Don’t worry baby, you’re still a good boy even if you did have a big accident. It’s ok, daddy just knows now that he needs to keep you in diapers properly now. Let’s go get you some num nums!” Ryan was at least happy to have some reprieve from the constant baby food. It was almost a slight relenting in Daddy’s constant babying, in a way. Except for the fact that Daddy still chose his meal for him (a happy meal, which daddy cut up for him), he still had to wear his bib, Daddy still fed him and he still had to drink his milk from his bottle - Daddy specially requested the cashier to put his milk in his bottle. And Ryan still ended up a mess with ketchup all over his face as per usual. Before leaving, Daddy stuck a finger into his shortalls; he was indeed wet. He didn’t even remember going at all. “Soggy already! Well, it’s about time we headed home anyway. You’re well overdue for your nap. Those double diapers can hold a lot, so I won’t need to change you for a bit.” He was right; Ryan was already getting sleepy. It was a totally exhausting day. The rest of the afternoon played out much as usual. After his nap, Daddy thankfully changed him into his normal diapers, and he watched some Teletubbies for being a good boy. After the usual mushy dinner and a bath, he was put down to bed. The events of the day out earlier were still vivid in Ryan’s mind. You might wonder why he didn’t just try and escape or protest against Daddy’s humiliating treatment of him. Well, it was pretty simple - starting from the moment he messed himself in the store, Ryan was completely rock hard, more so than he had ever been in his life. The experience was humiliating, sure, but it was also incredibly hot and one of his deepest fantasies brought to life. And now he was still just as horny as then. He was going to be a good boy for Daddy and not touch it… but fuck it, he’d be going home tomorrow anyway and he wouldn’t be able to sleep with this anyway. He rolled onto his front and started vigorously humping the crib mattress. He furiously sucked his pacifier as he quickly approached climax, thinking of what a stinky, naughty baby he had been and how Daddy had humiliated him. He completely exploded into his diaper, barely suppressing his moans. He rolled back onto his back and smiled. Tomorrow he’d have some explaining to do to his friends, but he’d cross that bridge when he got to it. Tonight was his last chance to enjoy this blissful sensation, before he went home the next day to his big life. Of course, he wouldn’t be going anywhere. But he didn’t know that. He just sucked his paci, cuddled his plushie and drifted off to a peaceful sleep, his diaper growing warm and wet as he did. Chapter 18 - This Is Your Home Now And so Ryan woke up that morning to Daddy gently shaking him awake, saying that his time was up and that it’s time for him to go back home now. Ryan was sad to leave, but grateful that he was now able to return to his normal life after two whole weeks as a baby. He could walk, talk like an adult, use the bathroom and eat proper food! He felt kinda silly in his briefs after two weeks of diapers, but he was happy he had this experience. It was fun being a baby, but he was glad it wouldn’t be a full time dealio; he just wouldn’t be able to handle that. He burst into his front door and said, “Mom, Dad, I’m home!” His mom came bustling into the foyer and gave him a big hug. “How did you guys go when I was gone?” “Oh we did fine, your father just did some work on the garage and I kept myself busy with the office work and all that. And how was your trip? Did you see lots of sights and good morning baby boy! Rise and shine, time for num nums!” Ryan froze. "Wait… what did you say? His mom was still smiling as she broke away from him and continued. “Goodness me you’re a soggy baby this morning!” “Wha’ the he’ iss goin’ on?!” Ryan said, or more appropriately mumbled, because his speech was garbled by the pacifier now in his mouth. Mom suddenly grabbed his diapered crotch, which was definitely wet. Wait a minute… diapered?! Ryan looked down and found himself suddenly dressed in a light blue Care Bears onesie with a very thick (and soggy) bulge in his crotch that could only mean he was well diapered and in need of a change. “Let’s get you changed, baby boy,” Mom said, but this time, her voice was much deeper and masculine, just like Daddy’s voic– Ryan awoke with a start to Daddy leaning over him in his crib, lowering the side rail. “Well good morning sleepy head!” Ryan looked around to see himself still in the nursery. It was just a dream, then. But today was still the day for him to go home. “You’re a soggy little baby boy aren’t you? Almost leaking, even! Daddy’s gonna have to put you in thicker diapers for bedtime from now on, I think.” From now on? But Ryan was going home today. Daddy really was committed to the role play. Daddy picked him up and changed his soggy bottom as usual. He got ready for his sodden diaper to be replaced with the thin white briefs that would herald his return to adulthood… only to find his nostrils confronted with the sweet smell of baby powder, his ears with a distinct plastic crinkling sound, and when he opened them, his eyes with the sight of a thick diaper being unfolded for Daddy to tape onto Ryan’s waist. Was he going to be sent home in a diaper? Perhaps a memento of his stay? Ryan was quietly contemplating while Daddy set to work at his usual routine, sliding the diaper underneath Ryan’s bum and taping it round his waist. And then his outfit… Daddy retrieved a blue Sesame Street snap shouldered T-shirt, but nothing else over his diaper. Ryan was a bit confused now. Surely he wasn’t going to send him home in this? Breakfast time, and Ryan was still confused. It had definitely been two weeks, but there was not a single change in Daddy’s demeanour as he spoonfed Ryan in his highchair and bib as he had always done these last fourteen days. Ryan went to try and ask Daddy when he would be going home today, but was swiftly silenced with a spoonful of oatmeal. One baba and a burping later, and Daddy took Ryan back upstairs, sat him down and looked him in the eye. This must be it. “Playtime, baby Ryan!” Or not. “Daddy…” Ryan said hesitantly, not sure how to put it. “Yes, sport?” “Well, I mean… uh…” “Come on little man, use your words.” “Well it’s been fourteen days now…” “Goodness me, has it? Well, the time flies doesn’t it?” He chuckled and picked Ryan up, taking him over to the rocking chair and sit him on his knee. “Uh… So when was I gonna go home?” Daddy chuckled again and bounced Ryan on his knee. “Silly baby! You are home.” Ryan was extremely lost. “No, I mean, it’s over now, and I get to go back home to my normal life and–” “This is your home now, baby. And this is your normal life now too. You’ll be living with Daddy from now on.” Ryan paused, and then it dawned on him what he was saying. “But-- no, you can’t do tha–” Ryan was immediately silenced as Daddy tutted and shoved Ryan’s pacifier into his open mouth - but this time he secured it with a strap so that he couldn’t spit it out. This was immediately followed by his hands being encased in the mittens that he usually earned for touching himself. His eyes went wide with fear and he tried to protest, but as usual the pacifier reduced all his words to incomprehensible babble. Daddy smiled and grabbed Ryan closely, rocking back and forth as he gently rubbed the terrified boy’s back. “There there, little baby… it’s ok, Daddy’s got you. You thought that Daddy was going to let you go back to your big boy life now, didn’t you?” He chuckled again. “Silly baby. Daddy knows what little Ryan needs, and it’s not big boy pants. Because you’re not a big boy anymore, Ryan. You really are just a little baby who needs to be back in diapers permanently. I mean, just look at what happened yesterday when you went poopy in your pants! No, you’ll be living with Daddy for good from now on. But don’t worry, it’s ok, Daddy knows just what his little baby wants and needs. He doesn’t need any of those silly big boy things like school or cars; he just needs his paci, his baba, his teddy and his daddy to change his diapies whenever!” Daddy sniffed and smiled deviously at Ryan. “Oh, in fact, I think Ryan might need that last one right away!” Ryan was thoroughly confused, until Daddy cheerfully patted his diapered bum, and Ryan felt a sensation that had never felt so horrific - the distinct smushing of poop up against his butt, and the unfortunate smell of a very stinky diaper. Ryan was petrified in complete shock. He had absolutely no memory of even feeling the need to mess, let alone actually doing it. In just two weeks, had he really just been completely un-potty trained?! His emotions were in a daze as Daddy pinched his cheek and said, “don’t worry baby, Daddy is always here to change your stinky diapers.” Ryan was completely checked out as Daddy changed his diaper and laid him down in the crib for an early nap time. But this time, Daddy strapped him down tightly to the mattress, ensuring he could barely move an inch let alone try and escape. “I know you’re probably upset about not going back to big boy pants,” Daddy cooed as he tucked Ryan in. “But you’ll learn to love it, little man. Daddy just wants what’s best for you, and it just so happens that what’s best is that you’re kept in diapers and as a baby for your own good.” He kissed Ryan on the forehead, eyes still wide with fear, and closed the curtains before locking the door behind him. Ryan looked around him, since it was the only thing he could do. He couldn’t move his legs, or his arms, or even his fingers since they were encased in super thick padded mittens. He couldn’t even talk, only suck on his pacifier that was strapped around his head. He looked at the bars of the crib, now seeming like the bars to his infantile jail cell. All Ryan had wanted was two weeks to live out his fantasy, and then straight back home, no strings attached. Well, he got his wish. Ryan kept sucking away on his pacifier - he couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to. It just made him so calm and peaceful. Even after everything that had just happened, he could feel himself drifting off to sleep somehow. His mind was screaming to resist, to stay awake knowing that this was just part of Daddy’s plan. He had to try and escape at the first possible opportunity. But right now the sleep was overwhelming - Ryan could barely keep his eyes open, and the rhythmic sucking didn’t stop. The last thing Ryan before he closed his eyes was the “Baby Ryan” sign emblazoned above his crib. Two weeks ago, Ryan thought it was a cute nickname and a sign of his role in the little role play. But right now, it was clear that this wasn’t a cute nickname anymore - “Baby Ryan” was no longer role play, it was a life sentence. Chapter 19 - The Next Morning Ryan squinted as he woke up, the bright early morning sunlight streaming in from the windows. He had that dream again, that he was back to his normal life and treated like an adult once more. As his eyes came into focus, he saw the bars of the crib and his wider nursery again that confirmed it was all just a dream - he was indeed still trapped under Daddy’s care, still in diapers, and still a baby. The events of last night, indeed, were not a dream. He groaned and sucked his pacifier as he cuddled Robbie, his favourite plushie, as the distinct aroma of a super wet diaper greeted his nostrils. Normally he might try and enjoy this sensation, but yesterday Daddy had locked Ryan’s “peepee”, as he called it, in a chastity cage preventing him from even getting a boner, let alone being able to play with it. Ryan sighed as he rubbed his eyes - or tried to anyway, since the mittens stopped his fingers from actually doing anything. He wasn’t strapped down to the crib anymore, but that’s only because Daddy didn’t need to do it - the bars of Ryan’s crib were high enough that he couldn’t get any real grip with his mittens to climb out. He was truly trapped in this infantile prison. Things had changed dramatically since Daddy had abandoned all pretense of letting Ryan go the day before. He was still babied - Daddy still fed him, dressed him, changed his diapers and cared for him in every way. But it had changed for sure. Ryan didn’t feel calm or at peace anymore. Now that he knew Daddy fully intended on keeping him forever, Ryan felt completely helpless to resist. He was now hyper-aware of how little control he had over his life now, and how much he was really beginning to regress. Yesterday he really did make poopies in his diaper without even realising… He barely had time to mull this over before Daddy came striding in, his usual jovial self. “Good morning baby! How’s my good little baby this morning?” He grabbed Ryan firmly and turned him over, so he could unbutton his onesie and check his diaper. Ryan noticed that much of the gentleness Daddy treated him with previously had all but evaporated, replaced with a sort of firmness that only made Ryan feel even more helpless as Daddy pulled the back of Ryan’s diaper. “Just soggy,” Daddy chuckled. “Good baby,” he pinched Ryan’s blushing cheek. “Time for num nums!” Daddy released Ryan from his crib and picked him up to carry him down to the kitchen. Daddy had fixed Ryan the usual breakfast of mushy oatmeal, and after locking him in the highchair tightly, he went about the usual routine of tying the bib round Ryan’s neck and getting his bottle ready. But before taking Ryan’s pacifier out, he gave him a stern look. “Now Ryan, you’ve got two choices. You can kick up a fuss and try and act like a big boy if you want. But all that’s going to earn you is your binkie back in your mouth, a good spanking and the rest of the day in the crib with an enema cleanout to stop your fussing. Or, you can be a good baby and eat your num nums for dadda without a fuss at all. So, tell me - are you going to be a good baby?” Ryan sucked on his paci and nodded up at Daddy. He knew this wasn’t the right time to try and formulate an escape anyway - he had to make Daddy let his guard down, and as much as he hated it, Ryan knew that meant he had to fully submit to the treatment at least for a bit. Daddy removed the pacifier straps and finally let Ryan’s jaw move freely again. “I want to hear you say it. Are you going to act like a big boy?” Ryan swallowed and adopted the cute childish tone that Daddy had trained him to use. “No Dadda, I won’t.” “And what will you be?” “I’ll be a good baby.” “Because…?” Ryan swallowed hard and blushed as he said it: “Because I am a baby.” Daddy smiled widely. “That’s right Ryan. You’re just a widdle baby boy and nothing more. And once we get some num nums in baby’s tummy, we’re going to start some new methods to make little Ryan into the happiest little baby in the land!” Ryan gulped inwardly as Daddy started spooning the familiar mushy muck into (and onto) Ryan’s mouth. That window of opportunity for escape seemed to be getting smaller and smaller… Chapter 20 - Who’s a Good Baby? After breakfast, Ryan found himself back in the nursery again. But there were two new additions that he swore were never there before - a huge TV screen, much bigger than the old one, and what looked like an oversized baby bouncer facing it. Daddy hoisted Ryan up into it and strapped him in tightly. “Daddy’s got some fun stuff for baby Ryan to watch while Daddy does some work. It’s a special show just for babies so Daddy can’t watch it!” He ruffled Ryan’s hair and squeezed his still soggy crotch. Daddy strapped the paci back in Ryan’s mouth and popped a pair of headphones over his head. And then, Ryan was alone. He could barely move at all - just sorta wriggle and squirm to make him bounce up and down. He whimpered behind his paci as he felt more helpless than ever. Suddenly, the massive screen burst into life and a whimsical childish tune started filling his ears. A bunch of happy teddy bears were dancing across the colourful screen to a simple rhythm. It caught Ryan’s attention and he was a little captivated. The melody was gentle and soothing, and the way the bears danced back and forth on screen was transfixing. He started sucking his paci to the rhythm of the music and bobbing his head along too. He felt very soothed and blissful as he happily sucked his binky. “Snap out of it!” He thought to himself, breaking free from his infantile trance state. He had to avoid whatever this bizarre show was doing to him and fight the hypnotic spell. But all he could do was try and avoid looking at the screen, and when he did, it felt like the hypnotic music grew louder and louder, and all Ryan wanted to do was suck his binkie and watch the funny bears dance across the screen and bounce up and down. He was vaguely aware of his diaper growing warm and wet as it pressed up against his skin, but he thought no more of it once his eyes were glued back to the screen. Suddenly, the bears stopped dancing, but the music continued at a lower volume. The “head” bear looked at the camera and said, “It’s baby time! Who’s a big boy?” The bear pointed at the screen… no, the bear pointed right at Ryan. “Are you a big boy?” ‘Of course I am,’ Ryan thought to himself. “No’ me,” Ryan said clumsily behind the pacifier, not even thinking about his words as they just sort of tumbled out instinctively. “No, that’s right!” The bear said happily. “You’re just a baby!” Ryan smiled gleefully and nodded. “Who’s a good baby?” “I’m a goo’ bay-bee,” Ryan said. “Who’s just a baby?” “I’m jus’ a bay-bee!” “Good baby!” Ryan kicked happily and sucked his binkie in bliss. Yup, he was just a baby. Just a silly little baby who loved his daddy. “What do babies do?” One of the bears asked. The main bear smiled and said, “Well, that’s what we’re going to teach the baby!” Ryan felt a mix of emotions. He felt so oddly happy and gleeful, and wriggled about in his bouncer, but in the back of his mind he felt the terror of his now-suppressed adult consciousness that had seemingly been replaced with a powerful infantile bliss. It felt so good to submit to it. It felt so good to become a baby. It felt so right to be a baby. Ryan was a baby. Just a happy little baby. “First, babies suck their binkies.” Ryan sucked happily and kicked his feet. “Babies don’t drink from cups, they drink from their baba!” Ryan loved his milky babas that Daddy made for him. He wanted one now! “Babies always eat with a bib and love their num nums!” “And…” the main baby paused and looked straight at Ryan again… “babies make poopies in their diapees!” Ryan immediately felt a soft warm mush spread all over his bottom as he filled his diaper without a care in the world. Ryan’s adult mind was screaming in horror but his body had been taken over by a vastly powerful infantile power that just kept sucking his paci harder and harder as Ryan bounced up and down in his soiled diaper. The bears clapped. “Good baby!” They all said in unison. “Good babies always make stinkies in their diapees!” Ryan giggled and bounced, feeling the mess smushing up against his butt. It felt so good to be a good baby and make stinkies. He wanted to do it all the time now. He wanted to make Daddy happy. He knew that making Daddy happy meant he had to be a good baby. And now, Ryan knew that being a good baby meant making stinkies in his diapees. “Are you a big boy?” The bear asked again. Ryan empathically shook his head and said, “No!” “Are you a baby?” Ryan nodded energetically. “I’m a baby!” “Who’s a stinky baby?” “I am!” “Who’s a stinky baby?” “I’m a stinky baby!” “Good baby!” The screen and the colours began to swirl before Ryan’s eyes making his pupils dilate. Ryan sucked his binkie and bounced up and down in his poopy diaper as the first bits of his baby programming latched themselves onto his mind. Chapter 21 - Baby Wants His Baba “Showtime’s over, baby!” Ryan immediately jolted back to his senses. The film was over; long over, in fact. He completely blanked once the bears had appeared… and all he remembered was being all happy and blissful as he sucked his paci and– “Oh my, I think someone is a stinky baby!” Ryan’s ears immediately pricked up at that and he looked straight at Daddy. “Who’s a stinky baby?” Daddy chuckled as he unstrapped Ryan and hoisted him into his arms. Ryan felt it again - that overwhelming sense of bliss taking over his body. He started sucking his binkie to the rhythm of the music again. “You’re a good baby for going poopy in your diaper. Such a good baby. You like being a good baby, don’t you, Ryan?” Ryan looked at Daddy and immediately found himself nodding. He did like being a good baby and making Daddy happy. He wanted to know how else he could make Daddy happy. Daddy patted Ryan’s heavily poopy diaper and the sensation of poop smudging against his butt immediately snapped Ryan out of it. What the hell was that? He felt like he entered some sort of trance and all sense of self and maturity was replaced by infantile simplicity and bliss. Daddy chuckled again as he laid Ryan’s poopy butt down to change him. “There’s a good baby. Looks like your baby programming went very well. From now on, you’ll have no control over your poopies ever again. Don’t worry, this is just the beginning. We’ll work on your speech next, I think. Before long, you’ll learn to love your new life. You’ll be a real baby boy, Ryan!” Ryan’s eyes widened in terror as he realised what Daddy was doing to him. He didn’t just want to treat Ryan like a baby; he was now doing his best to make sure Ryan became a baby. And he was well on his way… “Time for a baba!” Ryan felt that gush of overwhelming babyishness flow through him again. ‘Babies love their babas,’ he remembered the bears saying. Silly bears, they were so colourful and cuddly. Maybe Daddy would get Ryan a bear like that if he was a good baby and drank his baba– Ryan snapped back to reality. This was really beginning to terrify him. Lying in Daddy’s lap, he tried to move away as Daddy brought the bottle to his lips. He knew that drinking the bottle in this state would only make his programming even harder to resist. Ryan had to resist. He had to break free of Daddy’s power and stop himself from being regressed into a mindless infant. But all he could do was close his mouth. “Open up, Ryan. Be a good baby and drink your baba.” It took all of Ryan’s willpower and then some to keep his mouth shut. The voice in his head was saying, ‘Daddy’s right, I am a baby and I need my baba, and I love my baba…’ Acting purely on reflex, Ryan knocked the bottle out of Daddy’s hand. Daddy looked very cross, and Ryan immediately regretted it. With one swift move, Ryan was thrust over Daddy’s knee and his diaper pulled down to expose his butt. SLAP! The spanks came hard and fast on Ryan’s butt and thighs. He’d been spanked before, but somehow this time felt even worse to Ryan. In fact, he could feel his emotions getting out of control. And then like a dam bursting, Ryan burst into tears and started howling with pain. It was a good minute of spanking before Daddy stopped, and Ryan was a complete blubbering mess. His face was red and hot and streaked with tears. Daddy looked him in the eye. “Now tell me, are you going to be a good baby?” Ryan sniffled and nodded. “Tell me.” “I-I’ll be a good baby,” Ryan whimpered out. “Do you want your baba?” “Yes Daddy…” “Say it properly!” Daddy slapped Ryan on the thigh again and made him sob. “Yes Daddy! I want my baba! I want my baba!” “Good baby.” Ryan was laid back in Daddy’s lap and the bottle offered again. This time, he took it without protest. Still a blubbery mess of emotion, he immediately latched onto the nipple and suckled the milk down fast. He just wanted his baba. Daddy put Ryan’s paci back in, but didn’t strap it in. He need not anyway, since Ryan passively accepted it and sucked. Back in the crib for nap time, Ryan tried to muster the resolve to calm down and think of a way out… but then the hypnotic music started playing gently, and Ryan felt his mind empty. He sucked his binkie to the rhythm, felt his diapee expand and grow warm as he wet and his eyelids grow heavy as he drifted off to a peaceful, dreamless sleep… just like a good baby should. Chapter 22 - Reprogramming Continues The next day, Ryan woke up as usual in the relatively early morning. He groggily stirred, sucked his paci and cuddled his teddy. He had slept so well; like a baby, even. Ryan rolled over and sat up. But it was when he sat his heavily diapered bottom on the mattress that he realised something was very, scarily different: he was met with the unmistakeable smushing sensation of a poop-filled diaper. Ryan froze in terror, and the smell of poop quickly reached his nostrils to confirm that yes, he had made stinkies in his diaper in his sleep. Ryan’s heart started pounding with terror. He really felt like he was losing his entire sense of adulthood and reverting back to infancy at a speed he never even thought possible. The most terrifying thing was, the only thought going through his head: ‘I want my Daddy’. His emotions were welling up inside of him and he felt like he would burst. Ryan opened his mouth and his paci fell out as he let out an involuntary whine before he came back to his senses and clasped his hands over his mouth. He really did just about cry because he needed a diaper change. He was losing himself already. Daddy came in at that, clearly hearing Ryan’s little whimpers. He praised Ryan for making stinkies as usual, which made him swell with happiness. Ryan really loved being a good baby and making stinkies. Ryan shook his head again, clearing the haze. He felt so powerless up against these infantile traits that seemed to be slowly taking over his mind. After a diaper change and breakfast, Daddy announced it was time for Ryan’s show again. This time, Ryan wasn’t locked in his bouncer or had his paci strapped in, but was just sat in front of the TV. Daddy said he was just going to go to the store while Ryan got to enjoy some more baby conditioning and reprogramming. He kissed Ryan on the cheek and left. Ryan was alert. This was his chance! He waited to hear Daddy’s car leave the driveway, as the screen burst into life again. The music penetrated his mind and he started sucking his binkie to its rhythm once again. He loved his binkie, it made him feel so happy and peaceful and reminded him of his baba, which he also loved. The bears danced onto the screen and Ryan beamed widely. He couldn’t stop himself from clapping a little bit with glee. It was his favourite show! His adult conscience screamed in horror as it knew another aspect of himself was about to be reverted back to infancy, but the hypnotic power of the bears had already taken hold of Ryan completely. He took absolutely no notice of the fact that he was wetting himself without the slightest semblance of control. The session yesterday had seemingly completely taken away his toilet training. “Who’s a good baby?” The bears asked again. “I am!” Ryan said happily. “I’m a good baby!” “Yes you are! Are you ready for your next baby lesson?” Ryan’s adult consciousness was begging with his overpowering baby self to resist. ‘Just get up. Look away, stand up and go. The door is wide open, he’s gone. You can escape before it’s too late.’ “Yes!” Ryan said, nodding. “This is a big one… can you count to ten with us?” The bears counted, and Ryan counted along with them. Easy! “Good baby! Now you try again!” Ryan started counting alone. “One, two… three… uh… f-five… no… that’s not right…” Ryan was confused. He knew what came after three, and it wasn’t five, it was… wait… what was it?! Ryan didn’t know what came after three. The information was genuinely absent from his mind. He looked up in confusion and shock. “Good baby! Babies don’t need to count, that’s what Daddy is for! No more numbers for you, baby.” Ryan nodded emphatically at the bears. That made sense! Of course babies don’t need numbers. That’s a big boy thing! “Now look around the room. You should see some words.” Ryan did so; he saw a big picture book in the corner and grabbed it. It was a simple story about bears, of course, “The Bears in the Woods”. “Now read those words, baby.” He opened the book and found a random sentence. “The bears loved the woods; they would always frolick and play together,” Ryan read slowly and out loud. He looked up at the screen again. The main bear looked him straight in the eye, and said, “Good baby! But I think you should try again!” Ryan looked down and went to read again, but the words had changed. In fact, they weren’t words at all now - they were just unintelligible squiggles. Ryan turned the pages of the book frantically, but saw only more squiggles. He closed the book and looked at the title - but it too was just a mass of nonsense squiggles. “Good baby! Babies don’t need to read. Daddy reads for baby! No more reading for baby!” Ryan had just completely lost the ability to read and count, but he didn’t mind right now. In his utterly transfixed and hypnotised state, he felt right. “One more thing… babies need to be talking like babies too! Say, ‘Daddy’.” Ryan repeated. The bears continued reciting a bunch of words to Ryan for a good few minutes, as Ryan repeated them back to them. ‘Diapee’, ‘stinkies’, ‘baba’… all babyish words that sounded very cute and infantile, as well as normal words like ‘thank you’ and ‘please’ that had been babified into ‘fankyoo’ and ‘pwease’. At the end, the bears praised Ryan again, and he swelled with happiness. “Good baby!” The screen started swirling again, and Ryan’s pupils dilated again. In the absence of his binkie, he shoved his thumb in his mouth and started sucking away to the beat. The programming continued to take over his brain as the door laid wide open. The front door was even unlocked. But Ryan didn’t even notice anymore. Any thought of escaping had long been wiped from his thoughts. He just sucked his thumb and stared at the colours and swirls as he descended further and further into infancy. Daddy came back to find Ryan asleep on the floor, his thumb in his mouth as he gently ducked, and his diaper soaked. Daddy smiled. Ryan was ready for another day out. Chapter 23 - Another Grand Day Out “Wakey wakey! Naptime’s over, baby!” Ryan opened his eyes in surprise. He was in the crib again, on his stomach, with his thumb planted in his mouth. He sucked it placidly for a few seconds before coming to and yanking it out, covered in drool. He blushed furiously at his infantile transgression, but Daddy just chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Good baby,” Daddy smiled. “You’re such a good little boy, Ryan. You love being Daddy’s baby, don’t you?” Ryan’s trance was reactivated with the words “good baby”. His thoughts emptied out of his mind, and he was transfixed on Daddy. He loved his big strong Daddy. And he did love being a baby. He was a baby. Nothing more. He smiled vacantly and nodded. Daddy smirked. “Time for a diapee change, tiger! You’re soaked! Besides, we’ve got somewhere to be soon. Daddy needs to take his baby to see a special doctor for a checkup, but we need to run some errands first!” Ryan got jolted back to reality as Daddy laid his soaked butt down on the changing table. At first he was mildly terrified of the prospect of another public humiliation… but then he realised this was a chance to escape! Surely he’d be able to signal to someone that he was being kept prisoner, and someone would rescue him from Daddy’s clutches. Daddy put Ryan into double thick diapers again, and picked out the cutest outfit again: a sailor suit with the smallest pair of shorts Ryan had ever seen. They did absolutely nothing to hide the massive diaper bulge in front and back, and the leg bands of the diaper could be easily seen through the extremely brief leg holes. Daddy wasn’t bothering with big boy wear this time. Daddy got ready and packed Ryan’s diaper bag ready for the day out. Ryan squirmed nervously while he watched: Daddy stuck a few diapers, powder, baby wipes, his paci, bottle, a bib, spoon and some baby food… and what looked like a very babyish but nonetheless intimidating harness. Daddy noticed Ryan’s nervous look and chuckled. “This is just for naughty babies who try and run off. But that’s not you, is it, little guy?” Ryan nervously shook his head. “Do you know what you are?” Daddy grinned. Ryan squirmed in discomfort as Daddy leaned in to whisper in his ear. “You’re a good baby.” Ryan could feel that overwhelming warmth flood his body at those words. Whenever Daddy called him a good baby, everything just seemed so much nicer, so much more colourful and warmer, and so much happier. It was the most overwhelming sensation he’d ever felt, and it was impossible to resist. Daddy grinned widely and gently pushed Ryan’s paci into his mouth, which Ryan immediately accepted and sucked to the rhythm of that music that was now resonating around his brain. He heard the bears’ voices in his head. ‘Good baby’, they chanted in unison to the rhythm of the music. Suckle suckle suckle. Good baby. He opened his eyes and looked at Daddy, who was carrying him to the car. Daddy smiled down at Ryan and pinched his cheek and said it again: ‘Good baby’. Ryan smiled behind his paci as Daddy patted his super thickly padded bottom, making Ryan giggle. The mantras of the bears kept resonating in Ryan’s head. Good baby. Good baby. Just a baby. Just a baby. Daddy’s baby. Just Daddy’s good baby… The click of a car seat lock encasing Ryan’s crotch finally brought him out of his deep trance properly. Daddy had been free to secure Ryan in his car seat, and no amount of fiddling with the straps or lock could budge it at all. In fact, Daddy chuckled at his efforts when he climbed into the drivers’ seat. Ryan could only sit in nerve wracked anticipation as Daddy drove him off, without a single clue of where he was being taken or what awaited him. As they stopped at a light, another car pulled up right beside them. Ryan was wise enough to know (with a stern look from Daddy as a reminder) that things could only get so much worse if he tried to make a scene in front of these people - after all, he was tightly strapped into this car seat, so there was no escape from his wrath. But Ryan did suddenly become much more conscious of how infantile he looked as he looked down at his adorable sailor suit outfit, and then he looked back at the adjacent car and realised the occupants (a young teenage couple) were staring at him. Ryan immediately spat the pacifier out and went bright red; he could’ve sworn he recognised the guy from school. Daddy tutted and said, “You’re a fussy baby tonight, aren’t you?” He grabbed the dangling paci and shoved it straight back into Ryan’s mouth. “You keep your binkie in for now. The couple started laughing and Ryan went bright pink with humiliation. But he still dared not resist or protest - he was in no such position of power to do anything of the sort. He could only suck his pacifier to try and forget the humiliation. He started sucking that pacifier a lot faster though when Daddy pulled up at their destination. “Here we are, lil guy… a playground!” Chapter 24 - Park Time Ryan looked around the park in trepidation. It was a big park; lots of swings, slides, merry-go-rounds, those bouncy horses on a spring, and a few benches as well. It was also totally empty, and Ryan was unsure if that was a blessing or a curse. He could only assume one thing: Daddy was expecting him to play. Daddy took him by the hand and led him over to the swings first, in a brisk stride that made Ryan waddle in an almost comical way as he tried to cope with the huge diaper in his far-too-brief shorts. He could only imagine how massive his butt looked, and he was partly grateful that the park was deserted… but his heart sank once he realised it meant escaping Daddy would be impossible without other people around. He wasn’t dumb enough to just try and run away; he needed a real and proper distraction. Daddy picked Ryan up and sat him in the swing seat. “Play time for baby,” he cooed while he pushed Ryan gently in the swing. Daddy made him play on all the equipment, and made sure to supervise him closely at every step - Ryan went bright red when he realised it was because Daddy was filming and taking pictures of his playtime. “Isn’t this fun?” Daddy chuckled. Ryan had to nod; he couldn’t tell if it was the brainwashing or not, but he couldn’t help but smile and enjoy the playground, especially the merry-go-round while Daddy spun him round and round. It aroused the playful child in him - the one that always enjoyed playgrounds and parks such as these but never got the chance to once it became socially unacceptable for someone his age to still play like this. He needn’t worry about that now. After a good half hour of play, Daddy led Ryan over to the park bench, his soggy diaper making him waddle all the way (when did he go? He didn’t remember anymore). The bib went round his neck and the usual routine of spoonfed mush followed. Ryan was extra nervous about people seeing, and for good reason - a jogger couple ran by, distracting Ryan as he made eye contact with him. He must had looked one hell of a sight with his big Cookie Monster bib and face all covered in mushy baby food, and Daddy certainly didn’t help matters when the spoon collided with Ryan’s cheek while he was distracted, smearing the entire side with yellow mush. “You really are a cranky one tonight, huh?” Daddy chided a little too loudly. “Stop being a fussy baby and open wide for Daddy!” The couple gawked as they passed, and Ryan blushed furiously. But he had to stay calm. His opportunity had yet to come. The babyish humiliation would just have to be endured… but how much longer could he take it? After a milky baba and a wipe down, Ryan was made to continue playing. Daddy took dozens of photos and made Ryan pose on the equipment. And just as Ryan was bouncing on the bouncy horse, a big warm smushy sensation began to cover his rear end. He groaned inwardly as his bowel muscles betrayed not a single ounce of control and Ryan uncontrollably messed himself again. Daddy smiled at Ryan - he knew exactly what happened. “What’s wrong, baby? Do you need Daddy’s help?” Ryan nodded solemnly. “Aww… did baby make a stinky?” Without warning, he pulled Ryan towards him and yanked down his shorts, exposing his massive diaper butt for all to see. “That’s okay, baby, we can still play for a while longer.” He chuckled and patted Ryan on the butt, making him whine as the mess was mushed about. He was about to put Ryan back on the horsie when two guys talking loudly rounded the corner. Daddy looked around for a second, and Ryan realised that now was his chance! While Daddy was distracted, Ryan kneed him in the crotch and punched him in the gut. Daddy was taken aback and doubled over, giving Ryan the chance to sprint away… well, he tried to sprint, but forgot about the bulky poopy diaper around his waist so he stumbled and fell on his face, but quickly got up and corrected himself into a very fast but awkward waddle. The joggers saw Ryan approaching them and stopped in their tracks, speechless at the sight of this flustered young man in a sailor suit sans pants and a very big and saggy diaper around his waist, waddling towards them. Ryan caught his breath and quickly said to the guys, “You gotta help me! I’ve been kidnapped by a lunatic who’s forcing me to be his baby! I need the cops!” Well, at least that’s what Ryan thought he said. What actually came out of Ryan’s mouth was, “You gotsta help me! I made a big poopie in my diapee. I need my dadda!” Ryan looked confused at the guys for a second as they looked bemused at each other and started trying not to laugh, before he realised what he said and immediately clasped his hands over his mouth. There was absolutely no way that was what he was trying to say. “No, that’s not what I meant to say! He’s brainwashing me into becoming a mindless baby, and I can’t resist!” Well, it actually sounded more like, “Nooooo, I made big stinkies! I want my Daddy!” “Oh yeah?” one of the guys taunted. “You need your daddy, little baby?” Ryan was freaking out. He realised that the programming earlier hadn’t just wiped his brain of the ability to read or count, but now it had somehow reduced his vocabulary to the level of a 3-year-old toddler’s. “Aww, look at the little baby,” they taunted. “Holy crap, you stink! Did you actually shit your diaper? Jesus Christ, you are a baby!” “I’m not a baby!!” Ryan whined… or rather, “I want my baba!!” “Aww, don’t cry baby. Looks like your Daddy’s coming right over!” Ryan didn’t even have a chance to turn around before he felt a large rubber nipple suddenly fill his mouth and Daddy’s firm hand grasp his shoulder after shoving Ryan’s binkie in his mouth. “Shhh, silly baby. You know better than to run away from Daddy. I’m gonna have to keep an extra close eye on you now so you don’t try and run off.” “Jeez,” one of the guys laughed. “You’d have to keep him on a leash!” Daddy laughed. “Funny you should mention that, actually…” Ryan felt that sinking feeling as Daddy rummaged around in the diaper bag and retrieved the harness that Ryan dreaded so much. In no time, Ryan was quickly fastened into it, with Daddy tightly clutching the leash. Ryan whimpered. His escape attempt, pitiful as it was, had indeed failed and he knew Daddy wasn’t gonna let his guard down like that ever again. The guys were still snickering at him, just as Daddy was fussing over his straps and making sure he was locked in tight. The constant taunting of the two guys, the humiliation of Daddy’s constant fussing, the pervasive smell of his stinky diaper, and most of all the knowledge that he had failed to escape his baby prison… it all became too much for Ryan, and he couldn’t stop himself bursting into tears. He realised how pitiful he looked as he sucked his binkie and the tears rolled down his cheeks. But he just couldn’t stop. The guys finally left, and Ryan started to calm down. But he was still miserable, and Daddy seemed to notice because he pulled Ryan in for a tight hug when they got back to the car after Daddy finally changed his smelly diaper. “It’s OK, Ryan. Daddy’s not mad that you tried to run away. In fact, I expected it. But I hope you understand now that there’s no way out. You’re going to be a baby no matter what, and it’s only going to make your life much easier and happier if you just accept it.” He stroked Ryan’s cheek, and Ryan said nothing, just continued to suck his pacifier to calm himself down. “Good baby,” Daddy smiled. The butterflies didn’t come that time, but for good reason - Ryan was angry. Daddy had reduced him to a humiliating little plaything, and Ryan realised that the more he got scared, the easier it was going to be for Daddy to brainwash him into submission. Well, no more of that. It was time to get mad. Daddy could take away all of his adult privileges and identity; he could take away his toilet training, his ability to read, his ability to count… he could even force him to speak like a baby. But he couldn’t break Ryan’s spirit. Chapter 25 - Six Weeks Later Six weeks had passed since Ryan’s little excursion out - although to Ryan, it could’ve been six days or six months, the days just blended into each other now. Ryan awoke to a gentle tinkle of his baby mobile, slowly spinning above his head. He loved watching the spinning stars and spaceships, and he sucked his binky mindlessly while he squirmed. Daddy stopped strapping him down at night so he could roll over and cuddle his bear without any trouble. Ryan’s tummy started rumbling so he sat up and squatted, frowning as he pushed some bad thoughts out of his mind. Once he did that, he sat back down but suddenly his diaper felt all squishy and stinky. He felt his emotions start to well up, and involuntarily he started sobbing, the pacifier falling out and dangling by a clip to his teddy bear onesie. Daddy came in after a few moments and started cooing, making Ryan immediately calm down a little. Daddy always made everything better. Daddy was making all of those scary thoughts and dreams that sometimes plagued Ryan go away for good. Daddy picked Ryan up and cuddled him closely, patting his stinky bottom. Daddy said... something to Ryan. Ryan found it hard to understand what Daddy said anymore, it kinda just sounded like happy noises from Daddy so it made Ryan happy but he didn’t really know what he actually said. Then Ryan was being carried down the hall. He thought he was gonna get a change, but Daddy had already taken him out of the nursery. Ryan couldn’t help but pout. He felt like he was forgetting something very big, but he couldn’t fathom what it was. His memory was getting fuzzier. Daddy placed Ryan down into his high chair and strapped him in. Breakfast, that must be what he forgot. Ryan squirmed involuntarily and the big stinky mess in his diaper squished against his bum. No, there was something else still. The bib went round Ryan’s neck and he tugged at it. “I’m a Good Baby”, it said. Ryan couldn’t read it, since it just looked like blocks and weird squiggles, but he nodded anyway. He was a good baby. He sucked his binky rhythmically and within moments, all of his conscious thought left his mind as if was quietly asked to leave. Ryan felt warm, fuzzy and comfy. His big stinky diaper felt all silly and poopy but he knew that big babies like him needed to make stinkies in his diaper. He wasn’t a big boy who could use the potty and eat big boy food and make choices for himself. Ryan was a baby who needed diapers and feeding and Daddy and bottles and he was never going to be big ever aga— The spoon collided with Ryan’s mouth and the mush smeared all over his face. Ryan was so zoned out that he didn’t even notice Daddy sit down with his big bowl of yummy baby mush for Ryan’s breakfast. Daddy said something again, and Ryan opened his mouth on command. He still didn’t know what Daddy said, but it sounded right anyway. He shifted in his high chair and felt the warm squishy mess smush up against his peepee now. He was so stinky but he didn’t even notice anymore. After breakfast, it would be time for his warm baba, a stinky diaper change, and then playtime. It was the same routine as ever. But what was it that he was forgetting? He was starting to worry that if he didn’t remember soon, he’d never remember it again. He didn’t know how right he was.

Oliver was alone; the streets were empty, void of life, and beyond the mass of parked cars near one house that was lit up with fluorescent strobe lights, nothing was present. He didn't notice anything odd; a party going on in one house wasn't that big a deal to him, and most people were asleep by this hour. Without a word, he began to look around for his

(Hi. I want to do an RP where I am a man(22 years old) who is kidnapped by another man and whisked away to a nursery where he is babified and forced to live with him as a supposedly growth-disordered baby. Please be aggressive and condescending. Thank you.)

Jimmy was an anti-women's rights blogger drumming up support for deviant politics. One day, he disappeared. Jacob was suspicious. A lot of the men in his circles had been vanishing lately. When he complained to the police, the mostly female task force was understandably dismissive. Figures, he thought, as he went back home to call others rude names on the internet and post memes. After a particularly long day of ranting online and pushing forward irresponsible nostrums, Jacob decided to sleep off some of his sublimated frustrations. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, one that seemed a lot longer than normal. Was our friend Jacob perhaps 'let go of' unfairly? He wasn't a particularly good polemicist or propagandist, though he was unforgivably sure of his own opinions and cruel to those that opposed him. Someone wanted him placed in the 'fulfillment centre', and so he was placed there. That's all that seemed to matter anymore, for better or for worse. After an unusually tranquil sleep, Jacob woke up slowly, hardly able to make out what was happening for a little while. There was a warmness spreading on his bottom that confused him, but soon he noticed the bars of the large crib he was imprisoned in. Was he--he was. He was in a large nursery, filled with cribs and numerous young women scurrying about attending to the padded prisoners. After a while, Jacob became aware of his diaper, which was sodden and smelly from a number of pees. How long had he been out? "Looks like my big boy's awake!" Said Jacob's nurse. He squinted at her colorfully designed name tag, but was having a hard time figuring out what her name was. She was really pretty though, he thought. A thin stream of pee began to leave him as his nurse laid him down for a diaper change. He didn't resist. "Now now, let's not get too handsy--" She cooed, swatting away Jacob's hands as he reached for her supple breasts. "You're so pretty," Jacob gushed. As he did, a spurt of pee pees tricked out into his fresh and still unfastened diaper. "Now's not the time for making advances, little boy. You've gotta be potty trained first! Then we can teach you how to be a gentleman," She cooed, feeling pity for him but also a sense of motherly concern for his well-being. After all, he was going to be fairly regressed and dependent for a while, and not just dependent on diapers. Jacob looked down in surprise at his new diaper, which somehow comforted him but he knew not why. He dribbled a bit into it and then laid back onto his side sleepily. "How long have I been asleep?" He asked her. "It's been a couple of months to be honest," she replied politely, tossing her hair back behind her shoulders. "You'll be ready for retraining in a few months, but until then I think we haven't cooked you all the way yet--it's back into the black womb for you--" "What?" Was all Jacob could manage before he was put under again with a strong dose of tranquilizer. In order to remake the man, they needed to turn him into a tabula rasa, or blank slate, much like he was on the day he was born. Surely these were drastic and draconian measures, but might makes right and those that know are those that can control their world. Jacob was not in the know. This new fanatical matriarchy was. The End If anyone wants to build into this universe, please feel free to continue the story (or stories) in the comments section below. Hope you have fun.

This is a long story that develops the characters over time. I will post the first chapter now, and add to it as time passes. Comments and feedback are welcome and appreciated. Chapter 1: The Beginning or the End Carolyn was forty-one, tall, auburn-haired, and still turning heads at the country club. Ten years of marriage to David had not dulled her beauty, but it had dulled everything else. David—forty-four, senior partner at a downtown law firm, broad-shouldered once upon a time—had let the courtroom stress and the after-work bourbon settle around his middle. His once-confident baritone now carried a slight wheeze after two drinks, and in bed he lasted less than two minutes on a good night. Carolyn had stopped counting the nights she lay awake beside him, thighs clenched in frustration, pretending to sleep so he wouldn’t paw at her again. She loved the house, the cars, the vacations, the platinum card with no limit. Divorce would mean losing all of it, and worse—gossip, loneliness, starting over. Affairs were out of the question; David still had friends in every judge’s chamber in the county. She needed a solution that kept the money and destroyed the problem at the same time. That solution arrived in the shape of her oldest friend, Linda. Linda was a clinical hypnotherapist with a discreet practice on the north side of the city. She was petite, dark-haired, always dressed in flowing black, and possessed a calm, almost amused authority that made people obey before they realized they had decided to. On Saturday they sat on Carolyn’s sun-drenched patio Linda with nice glass of wine and Carolyn with tall glasses of peach iced tea—Carolyn never touched alcohol—Carolyn poured out her misery. “I’m dying inside, Linda. I need real sex, and I need to not feel guilty about it. But I can’t leave him and I can’t cheat without destroying everything.” Linda listened, swirling her glass, then smiled like someone unveiling a gift. “There’s another way,” she said. “I’ve seen it work. We take away the man he thinks he is. We make him small. Dependent. Grateful. We put him back in diapers, turn his tiny premature ejaculations into something he can only feel when he’s padded and helpless. And once he’s hooked on that helplessness, he will give you permission—out loud—to take a real man. He’ll beg for it eventually. I’ve read the case studies. Carolyn’s pulse hammered. “You’re serious.” “Completely. I’ll handle the hypnosis. You just play the loving, heartbroken wife who’s trying to help with his ‘little problem.’ He’ll never suspect.” They shook hands like business partners. Three nights later Linda arrived for what David thought was a casual dinner. He liked Linda—she flattered him, kept his bourbon coming, and laughed at his war stories. By ten he was loose, laughing a bit too loud, and bragging about a case he’d just won. Carolyn watched Linda’s fingers move—a subtle circle on the stem of her glass, a soft hum under the music. David’s eyelids sagged. His head nodded. “David,” Linda said gently, “look at my pendant.” The silver chain appeared between her fingers as if by magic. David’s gaze locked on it. Thirty seconds later his chin rested on his chest, breathing slow and deep. Carolyn’s heart hammered as Linda leaned close to her husband’s ear. “David, every night when you’re asleep and you feel the need to urinate, you will simply relax and let it flow. You will not wake up. You will not remember this instruction. You will feel safe and warm as you wet the bed. And whenever you hear me say the words ‘lawyer’s rest,’ you will return to this deep, obedient state instantly. Do you understand?” A low “Yes” rumbled from David’s throat. “Good boy.” Linda snapped her fingers. David blinked, straightened, and reached for his bourbon as if nothing had happened. That night, at 3:17 a.m., David stirred. His bladder pressed full and heavy. Normally he would swing his legs over the side of the bed, pad to the bathroom, stand tall, aim. Instead, still half-dreaming, he relaxed. A hot flood spread beneath him, soaking his cotton pajama bottoms, pooling under his hips. He sighed, rolled over into the wetness, and slept again. At six-thirty the alarm buzzed. David woke to the clammy reek of urine. He sat bolt upright, heart racing. “No. No, no, no—” He ripped the sheets off, balled them in a panic, and stuffed them into the washing machine on hot before Carolyn stirred. He showered twice, scrubbing himself raw, and swore it was a one-time fluke—too much bourbon, stress, anything. The next night it happened again. Same warm surrender, same shameful dawn discovery. He was shaking when he hid the second set of sheets. On the morning of the third day Carolyn “discovered” the wet sheets. She touched his arm with theatrical tenderness. “Honey… the bed was wet again. It’s okay. It happens. We’ll figure it out together.” David’s face burned crimson. “It’s not—I don’t know what’s—” “Shh. I love you. We’ll get through it.” That evening Linda returned. Dessert had barely been served when she leaned across the table and murmured, “Lawyer’s rest.” David’s eyes glazed. Fork frozen halfway to his mouth. Linda’s voice was velvet. “Tomorrow morning, when you wake up wet again, you will feel overwhelming relief at the thought of wearing diapers. You will tell Carolyn—your own idea—that the adult thing to do, the responsible thing, is to wear protection until this passes. You will feel proud for suggesting it. You will not remember I told you this.” Snap. David finished his cheesecake, oblivious. The next morning, voice trembling, David said exactly what he’d been told to say. Carolyn let tears well—perfect, sympathetic tears. “Oh, sweetheart, that’s so mature of you. Of course we’ll get what you need.” By noon they were in a bland medical supply store that smelled of plastic and antiseptic. David’s ears flamed as the clerk—heavy-set, bored—rang up a case of thick, white adult diapers with blue leak guards and tiny teddy-bear prints along the landing zone. “Overnight maximum absorbency,” the clerk said cheerfully. “These’ll hold anything.” Back home, Carolyn unwrapped the first diaper with ceremonial care. David stood in their bedroom in just his socks, hands awkwardly covering his groin. “Lie back, sweetheart,” she cooed. “Let me take care of you.” The diaper crinkled obscenely as she slid it under him, dusted him with powder that smelled like babyhood and surrender, and taped it snug. His tiny penis twitched against the padding, already half-hard from pure humiliation. “There,” she whispered, patting the front. “My big strong lawyer, safe and dry.” That night they went to bed. David lay rigid, listening to the loud rustle every time he moved. At some point he drifted off. When he woke at dawn, the sheets were pristine. The diaper was not. Heavy, sagging, warm, it clung to him like a second skin. He reached down with a trembling hand and felt the sodden weight. A strange, liquid shame coursed through him—followed by a pulse of something darker, something almost like relief. In the bathroom mirror he caught a glimpse of himself: forty-four years old, successful, rich, powerful—and standing soaked in a teddy-bear diaper. Behind him, Carolyn leaned in the doorway, smiling softly. “Good morning, baby,” she said. “See? Problem solved.” And somewhere deep in David’s mind, a tiny voice whispered that this was only the beginning.

Hey everyone, I have a bold idea. First, one of the things I love most from the bottom of my heart is RPGs. I love gacha games, I'm even a fan of Wuthering the Waves. I created an RPG system from scratch and I'm testing it. This is its story; the system is based on Fate. If you like role-playing and you like RPGs, I'm open to both. You can message me here or on my Discord. https://discord.gg/U5Dw7gTy 🎭 Scenario 1: "The New Nanny" Location: Isolated mansion in a gated community — modern architecture, tinted windows, walled garden with electric fence. The Dynamics: Both sides: the Amazon (hired) and the Little (heir to an ultra-rich family). The family traveled for 3 months. The Amazon is on an exchange program in Earth-000 and nobody knows except the Little's family, who are also Amazons (their daughter wasn't classified as a Little). The nanny was hired with explicit instructions: "do whatever is necessary to get him to accept the therapeutic regression program". The Conflict: The Amazon has full access to the house, credit cards, family contacts, and the parents' "carte blanche." The Little knows the house's secrets—secret passages, old security codes, blind cameras. The Amazon needs to produce measurable results (photos, videos, behavior reports) to keep her job. The Little needs to survive the 3 months without breaking down—or find a way out before then. Special Mechanic—"The Report": Each week of the game, the Amazon must submit a report. If the Little is too resistant, she loses credibility and may be replaced by someone worse. If he is too submissive... he loses. Character: 🧸 Little's Profile: Sofia Alencastro Viegas (19 years old) Concept: Spoiled heiress who always got what she wanted—until now. Description: Sofia grew up in a world of absolute privilege. Her parents, both high-ranking Amazons, always treated her as "special" and "too delicate for the adult world." When she turned 18, the diagnosis came: "Little with traits of resistance to authority." In truth, Sofia was never rebellious—she just never had to obey anyone. Now, locked in her own mansion with a nanny who has carte blanche, she is discovering that her money and status mean nothing within those walls. 👩‍⚕️ Amazon Profile: Camila "Camille" Ferreira (21 years old) Concept: Dedicated professional seeking a life-changing promotion. Description: Camila didn't come from a wealthy family. She studied, worked hard, and specialized at the best Little care institutes in the country. This job is her big chance—if she can "regress" Sofia Alencastro Viegas in 3 months, her name will circulate among the most powerful families. She's not evil, just ambitious... and genuinely believes the regression program can be good for the spoiled girl. The problem is that the instructions are vague: "anything necessary." Camila will have to figure out where to draw her own ethical line. If you like RPGs and cool stories, you'll love this! I'll start posting some of the sections soon. You can leave a comment, feedback, or criticism; anything is welcome.

Chapter 1 (of 10) Note: This story is about consenting adult characters and was written with a mature, 18+ audience in mind. Vodka tasted better when you drank it out of Communion cups. Or at least, I figured it would. This was a first. I tipped the cheap-ass vodka into the tiny plastic cups, watching the clear liquid settle. They were practically shot glasses for evangelicals. Dan and Amanda watched me. They sat on a stack of dusty old hymnals in the storage room. “Isn’t this, you know…blasphemous?” Dan asked. I rolled my eyes, steadying my hand as I topped off the third cup. This shit was damn near impossible to get when you were nineteen and lived in a religious bubble; I wasn’t going to waste a single drop. “You’re supposed to put alcohol in them,” I said. “That’s the whole point.” “Wine,” Amanda said quietly. “The body of Christ. Not…what is this again?” “Vodka,” I said. “Where’d you even get this stuff?” Dan asked. I grinned and pressed the tiny cups into their hands. “I have my ways.” I raised my cup. “Here’s to the most fun any of us will ever have at church.” Dan frowned. Amanda giggled. They tinked their plastic cups against mine. I threw mine back, the liquor scorching my throat, leaving a warmth deep in my chest. Dan coughed and sputtered. “Wow, that’s strong.” I smirked, warmth spreading through my limbs. “Uh-huh.” Amanda tossed hers back. A flicker of pink crept up her neck, but she bit back the cough that tried to escape. Our eyes met, and she smiled. Not the polite, church-picnic smile. This one lingered. A little crooked. Like we’d just committed a crime together and gotten away with it. I smiled back at her. “Alright, round two.” “Round two?” Dan gasped. “I’m sure there’s wafers in one of these boxes if you need something to settle your stomach first.” “That’s definitely blasphemous,” he said. “Okay, keep your panties on,” I told Dan. Amanda, you can go right ahead and take yours off. She giggled. Her flushed cheeks glowed in the dim light. She tugged her shirt lower, thinking I wasn’t looking. Conservative, high-cut—the kind of blouse a hot girl could get away with at a place like Antioch Independent Baptist. Still, that extra bit of skin was enough to spark heat behind my eyes. I opened my backpack and pulled out a raspberry seltzer and three styrofoam cups. “Seriously? You had something to mix that crap with?” Dan said. “Why didn’t you do that in the first place?” “Come on,” Amanda said. “We can drink it how he wants.” I raised the bottle of vodka. “Exactly.” I set the bottle aside and began filling one of the cups on top of a stack of extra Bibles. “Round two coming up.” “You see that Bespoke is coming to The Pavilion in a few weeks?” Amanda said. “No way!” I spun around too fast, knocking the seltzer over. It crashed onto the Bibles, then tumbled onto my lap, a cold flood soaking straight through my khakis. “Fuck!” Dan frowned. “Dude, not in church.” Amanda jumped up. “I’ll find something to soak it up. There’s probably napkins or paper towels or something in here.” I waved her off, shifting in my now-clammy pants. The smell of artificial raspberry clung to the air. “It’s fine. I’m just going to go to the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t drink all of it without me.” She giggled. I closed the storage room door behind me and walked down the dark church hallway. Let her drink the whole bottle. I didn’t care. I’d never seen her this loose. This unguarded. When I got back, maybe we could ditch Dan. She might do more than tug down her shirt if he wasn’t around. The way she looked at me…that wasn’t just the vodka talking. “Thomas?” I froze. A blonde head peeked out of the nursery. “Hi!” Shit. “Hey, Hope,” I said. She beamed and stepped fully into the hallway. That prairie-floral dress she always wore made Amanda’s blouse look like clubwear. Still, it didn’t hide the curve of her hips. Not completely. “I thought I was the only one here,” she said. “I’m on nursery duty this month. Not that it’s a duty--I volunteered. What’s more important than taking care of our little ones while mom and dad are learning about the Lord, right?” “Right.” “I thought it could use an extra deep clean and some reorganization. Figured it’ll take me a few Wednesdays, so I might as well get started now.” She looked at me expectantly. “Cool. I’m, uh, doing something similar. Mark has been asking me to help out with the audio stuff, so I was learning the new mixing board.” She cocked her head to the side and smiled. “Ohhhh. That is so sweet. I’m sure he will appreciate it. The whole flock will. Are you--” She stopped, her eyes taking in the huge wet stain on the front of my pants. “Uh, yeah…I had a bit of an accident.” Godammit. Fantastic choice of words, dumbass. Her brows drew together. “Oh, Thomas. Come on. I’ll help you out with that.” “I just meant I spilled something. I can--” “Oh, don’t be silly.” She gestured me into the nursery with that same no-questions tone she used when I was ten and covered in marker. “I have some paper towels in here.” Great. Just get it over with. The less she followed me around sniffing for answers, the better. And my breath had to reek of vodka. The nursery glowed with dim amber light--a lamb-shaped nightlight and a lamp next to the rocking chair. It smelled like baby lotion, apple juice, and graham cracker crumbs blended with the faint mustiness of Little Golden storybooks. Hope handed me a roll of paper towels. “Here you go.” “Thanks.” She frowned. A flicker of something---suspicion?--crossed her face. “What was it you said you were doing? Were you cleaning, too, or…?” Shiiiiit. She smells it. My mouth went dry. “I was just. Yeah. I--” “Are you okay?” Hope asked. “Your face is flushed. Did you spill cleaner? Come on, let’s go look together. Those fumes are no joke.” “No!” She startled. “I mean,” I took a deep breath, “I had an accident.” Her expression melted into concern. “Thomas. Oh. These things happen, I suppose. Did you--” She shook her head. “Never mind. None of my business. Let’s get you sorted out.” I waved the paper towels around. “This is great, thanks.” She rummaged through a drawer. “You remember when I used to babysit you and your sister? Seems so long ago now, doesn’t it?” “It was so long ago. Thanks for the paper towels, I think I’m gonna go.” She turned around with a diaper in her hand. It had a smiling Burt and Ernie on it. “You remember the first time I ever watched you? Your mom was going to some meeting. You waddled out in your bedwetting diaper, not realizing I was there, and--” “You must be thinking of Annabelle. She was the bedwetter.” Hope smiled. “Hhhhmm. In any case, I was thinking you could slip this down in your underwear. Just in case, you know?” She fluffed the diaper with practiced fingers, like she was straightening a corsage. Soft. Intimate. Familiar. I snatched the diaper from her. “Sure. Okay.” “I’ll turn around.” She spun around and faced the wall. “Look, I appreciate your help. But, I’ve got it handled.” “It’s okay to be shy. Modesty is so important and so devalued in the world today. I promise I won’t look. Exodus 28:42--You shall make for them linen undergarments to cover their naked flesh. They shall reach from the hips to the thighs." She giggled. God. She was only a few years older, but she still acted like my babysitter. Even during piano lessons years later, she’d muss my hair and call me nicknames like I was still in diapers. Apparently, full circle now. I unbuttoned my jeans and shoved the diaper down inside, fumbling to get into some sort of position that wouldn’t look like I was wearing, well, a diaper. I glanced up. She still faced the wall. A small part of me wished she’d turn around. A bigger part knew I’d drop dead if she did. I zipped up. The thing wasn’t even taped, and it still made the front of my jeans bulge like I was smuggling a muffin. She turned around. Her eyes flickered downward for a second. “You’d hardly even notice.” My stomach dropped. Hardly notice? Then she pulled me into a hug. Her arms were warm. Familiar. She smelled like lavender and something sweet that I couldn’t quite place. The press of her chest against mine was all soft curves and holy restraint. My hands hovered awkwardly before settling lightly on her back. She pulled and ruffled my hair. “I’m so proud of you. You’re growing into such a responsible young man, dealing with a challenge like this. Just remember: many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all." *** “Dude, where have you been?” Dan asked. “Amanda left. She had SAT test prep or something.” He was still perched on his stack of hymnals, glued to his phone. “When did she leave? Maybe I can catch her before--” “Uh, what is in your pants?” Dan asked. “Is that…actually, what is that?” “I did what I had to. Paper towels and all. Not a lot of options.” I turned away from him and pulled my backpack from behind a milk crate full of those horrific Chick tracts. Amanda being gone sucked. Big time. No reason not to have enough shot, though. Actually, it was a great reason to have another shot. Or two. “It was your idea to meet here, man. I said we could go park, or, like…anywhere. Somewhere no one would see us.” I sighed. “Not a lot of spare pants at Berring Park or behind the Walmart Tire and Lube either, are there? And if we just disappeared for a few hours and came back smelling like booze, your mom would’ve sniffed it out instantly. But tell her up front you were going to church to help me with AV, a fact that the deacons could back up if checked, and…” He was silent for a minute. I loved the guy, but he’d never figured out how to skirt around the rules. Sometimes, I wondered if he even tried. “Good point,” he finally said. “But you still haven’t told me why you have a beach ball in your pants.” Heat flushed my face. I pulled the bottle of vodka back out of my pack and sat on the stack of hymnals across from him. The padding, mostly bunched up in the front, but also pressing weirdly under my balls and ass--made sitting feel weirdly floaty. Like sitting on a pillow. Or like that time a dish towel got wadded up in my jeans in the laundry. “Gonna have to take it straight,” I said. “All the seltzer is on my pants. No coughing or bitching this time, either. Gotta keep it quiet. Hope is here.” “Your old piano teacher?” I swished the bottle of vodka in his face. “Earth to Dan. You wanna drink or not?” He leaned back, his brow wrinkled in confusion. “You smell like…I dunno. A girl?” “Do…you…want…a shot?” “Not as much as I wanna know why you were gone so long and came back with a wad of something stuffed in your pants. “ I slammed the vodka bottle down on the thin, musty carpet, stood up, and yanked open my pants, exposing the wadded-up diaper. “Is that…a diaper?” he asked. “Happy?” I snapped. “Can we drink now?” He nodded. “So, uh…” “Hope’s idea.” I buttoned my pants up, sat down, and grabbed the bottle of vodka. “So she’s still here? What if she--” I waved him off. “She won’t. She’s busy with this nursery project or whatever.” And she’d seemed weirdly satisfied with the outcome of our interaction. “Huh.” “Figured if I pushed back, maybe she'd guess something else was up,” I said. “Come looking for us. Didn’t want you getting in trouble.” I set two of the Communion cups down and started to pour. “Sounds like Hope. She never quite grew out of that babysitter thing.” “She never quite grew out of that Charity Churchmouse, holier-than-thou shit,” I said. “She’s what, twenty-five?” Dan shrugged. “I mean, she probably believes in it or whatever. It’s not something everyone wants to ‘grow out of.’” “Sure. Whatever.” I handed him the cup. “Aren’t you going to…?” he raised his eyebrows. “Dude, I told you: no more seltzer.” He pointed at my crotch and chuckled, awkward and too loud. “No. I mean…why haven’t you taken it off?” “I’m…it’s not on,” I snapped. “Like, taped or whatever. I just jammed it in there so she’d back off.” “Okay. Seems like it’d be pretty easy to--” “You could’ve tried ‘thank you for taking one for the team.’” I reached into my pants, yanked out the diaper, and chucked it at him. He batted it away like it was radioactive. “Gross!” He stood up, brushing invisible germs off his pants. “You know what, I’m good for now. I’ve gotta get back home to take care of the chickens.” “Fine.” I tossed his drink back. “See you later.” “Yeah. Cool.” Once he was gone, I slipped the bottle into my backpack and dumped the communion cups in the trash along with the balled-up diaper. Burt and Ernie stared up at me, grinning like smug little assholes. I hesitated, then snatched it back and stuffed it into my pack. No way was I leaving that here. Too many questions I didn’t want to answer. Chapter 2 One week later. I stared down at the rust-stained toilet bowl in the church basement, willing myself to relax. I felt warm. Too warm. Almost sweaty, despite the wheezing AC. This shouldn’t be so difficult. My bladder was full--the Monster I’d chugged on the 15-minute drive from my job at Larette Lumber to the church saw to that. All I had to do was what I’d done a million times. “Piss, goddammit.” Nothing about this place made me want to stick around. The neon light hummed and crackled in the otherwise quiet church. A vaguely sulfur stink--a smell that had hurried me along for years--hung in the air. The bathroom had been a refuge, of sorts, but always a shitty one. I’d tried a cigarette in here once and accidentally set off the fire alarm. Another time, I’d complained of a stomach bug to dodge Bible study and then been ratted out for playing Breath of the Wild in a stall. I’d still never figured out who snitched. This little scheme of mine was a mistake. Apparently, my body knew that, too, and wasn’t going to cooperate. But once the idea had popped into my head a week ago, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I’d been lying in bed, jerking off to the usual highlights reel, when I imagined Hope. Not naked. Not in a bikini--something almost harder to imagine than her naked--but in her flowery dress. We were in the nursery. She’d pressed against me, her breasts soft under all that fabric. Then she’d squeezed my dick through my pants. But not just through my pants: through the diaper. I’d exploded. Since then, I’d replayed it a dozen times, each time iterating and adding details but never deviating from the core elements: Hope and a diaper. A stupid, fucking diaper. It shouldn’t work. Like, at all. But the half-empty box of tissues next to my bed spoke volumes. I needed it out of my head. A real-life experience to show my dumbass brain that Hope plus diapers was about as sexy as athlete’s foot. Finally, gloriously, a steady stream splashed the toilet water. I sighed with relief. I let it flow for a good twenty seconds, and then I clamped off the stream. If this were a video game, my yellow piss bar would be flashing a warning that I was nearly empty. Now for step two. I pulled my boxers and jeans back into place and closed my eyes. I imagined my dick flopped out with a clear shot to the toilet. I relaxed. Warmth bloomed in my pants almost instantly. Just a couple of seconds. The floodgates opened. A hot stream snaked down my leg, soaking my sock. My eyes shot open. The dark spot I’d imagined—a demure little ‘oopsie’—was a fucking flood. A lake breaking its banks. Neighborhoods underwater. Bodies floating. FEMA too late. Fuck fuck fuck! This wasn’t bad—it was catastrophic. All the images of Hope down on her knees, big green eyes looking up at me as she dabbed at my damp patch with a diaper in her other hand, blinked out. Replaced by the mental image of me sneaking out of church, building a napkin nest on my car seat, and then somehow sneaking into my mother’s house for once. I couldn’t delay. This wasn’t going to fix itself, and every moment I stood here in my pissed pants just hammered home what a complete idiot I was. Cold dampness clung to my thighs as I crept down the dimly lit hallway of the church basement. Every step made the wet fabric of my jeans stick to my skin. The squish-squish-squish of my soaked shoes sounded obscene. I hoped--no, I begged--Hope wouldn’t hear the squelch of my shoes against the linoleum. I inched toward the nursery door. A golden rectangle of light in the dark hallway. Hope hummed softly. ‘There’s Room at the Cross for You.’ Just keep humming. Keep cleaning. Ten more seconds. I moved like Indiana Jones creeping through a temple, every step a test. Except no poison darts, no boulder—just the risk of utter, world-ending humiliation. Honestly, I’d take the boulder. I passed through the light, eyes on the exit door ahead, and then back into the darkness. “Thomas?” My guts lurched into my throat. She stepped into the hallway. Same kind of dress as last week. Same prairie modesty. Same barely-hidden curves. “Hey. Didn’t know you were going to be here. I gotta run. Told Mom I’d help with dinner tonight.” She peered into the shadows. “And you weren’t even gonna say hello? You know better than that.” “Sorry. Kinda in a hurry.” She stepped closer. Paused. “Thomas, did you…” “No!” My voice sounded faint and raspy, like I was calling up from the bottom of a deep, dry well. “I was afraid this might happen. Come here. I have something to help.” “I’ll take care of it.” She caught my wrist and pulled me into the light. “Clearly not.” I could’ve pulled away from her. I should’ve pulled away from her. But then what? Then our weird little secret wouldn’t be such a secret. She’d tell someone. My mother, god forbid. Or maybe even worse, one of her friends. I was stuck in this steepled prison until I could move out, and I couldn’t move out until I got a raise. My ‘accident’ looked so much worse in the light. Or maybe it was just seeing it through her eyes. She folded her arms and tilted her head, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured. “Again?” Her eyes flicked down to the dark stain on my jeans before meeting my gaze again, soft with understanding—but undeniably patronizing. “That must’ve been so embarrassing for you.” Of course it was embarrassing. Was it worse because I’d done it on purpose? She crossed to a wooden dresser, trailing her fingers over the chipped paint, where faded red and blue animals marched across the drawers. “Luckily, I found something that will help when I was cleaning. You remember that young man with a disability who used to attend? Jonathan? His parents kept a package of adult-sized diapers in the nursery. I think they’d fit you.” I laughed. A dry, nervous bark. She turned, holding up a half-empty package of diapers. The plastic crinkled in her grip. “You’re serious?” I asked. “Seems like you’re not serious enough. What does the Bible say about putting away childish things?” “I’m not…This isn’t…” I rubbed my forehead. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do here, but I’m handling it.” She let her gaze drop to my pants—slow, deliberate. The wet fabric clung to my skin, a humiliating badge of childish failure. Then, just as slowly, she lifted her eyes to mine. I ground my teeth. “I will handle it.” “Accidents are nothing to be ashamed of. I’m sure you can’t help wetting your pants any more than Jonathan could.” A pause. A calculated breath. “Or any more than you could help wetting the bed when you were six, right?” My stomach twisted. “I told you that was my sister.” “Or is there something you’re not telling me?” Those green eyes, so seductive and welcoming in my fantasies, were cold now. Unblinking. Unrelenting. She knows she knows she knows. “Thomas?” she pressed. “We’ve always been friends. And friends are truthful with one another. Accidents are nothing to be ashamed of are they?” “No,” I croaked. She seemed to consider, then nodded. “Alright, then. If accidents aren’t shameful, the only shame is not taking responsibility for them.” The plastic rustled as she reached into the pack. She pulled out a massive white diaper—bigger than last week’s. More substantial. More inescapable. She held it out. I swallowed hard and took it. It was heavier than I expected. The plastic whispered against my fingers. “Have you not been wearing any protection?” she asked. “I thought last week made it clear how important that was.” A pause. A shift in her tone. “Unless the problem is more… sporadic?” This was my out. But explaining that it was all a misunderstanding wouldn’t work. Not anymore. I’d burned that bridge and pissed all over it. But how did she know? She didn’t. Couldn’t possibly. Not for sure. But she might strongly suspect. She’d caught me in too many lies over the years: when she was babysitting, and I snuck downstairs to eat the whole box of ice cream sandwiches—held my ground until I vomited all over the carpet. Then, when I was her piano student, swearing I’d practiced when I hadn’t touched The Essential Hymn Anthology in a week. She always saw through my bullshit. “It’s becoming more regular,” I said. “The problem, I mean.” What are you doing? She pursed her lips. “Mom doesn’t know about it yet.” Her eyes flickered. “Really?” “She’s been busy with work. I figured I’d handle it. Didn’t want her to worry. And, you know, money’s been tight…” “I see.” Shut your mouth, you blathering idiot. “Right. So if we could just keep this between us for now that’d be best for her.” She stared for a long moment. “If I can be certain you’re addressing your problem in a manner that befits a child of God, I suppose I can refrain for now. I…” She paused. “Do you need any help?” Her voice remained steady, but her cheeks darkened. “With the diaper, I mean?” Blood roared in my ears. “I do work in the nursery, after all,” she continued. “And changing diapers is very much a nursery task.” A breath. A hesitation. “We would leave the door open, of course. So anyone walking by would see nothing—” “No!” I cut in. Too sharp, too fast. “Thanks, but no. I’ll handle it.” She straightened. Smoothed the front of her dress. “I’ll give you the room, then. Just open the door when you’re done.” She paused in the doorway. “I’ll need to see it when you’re done. To make certain you’ve done a good job.” I nodded. The door clicked closed. I exhaled. A slow, shaking breath. My dick had dug a hole. My mouth had pulled the dirt in on top of me. So why didn’t you let her help? At least then you’d get something out of it. Those soft fingers drawing down your underwear? Wiping down your shaft? She’d be bent over, her breasts hanging low in that dress. Maybe—just maybe—it’d slip low enough you could catch sight of her nipples. Or— I shook my head. Focus. I was half-hard in piss-soaked underwear, standing in the church nursery with a diaper in my hand. If ever there was a sign I wasn’t thinking straight, this was it. I needed to put this thing on and get out of here before I somehow made this even worse. Six-step instructions were on the back of the package. I dropped the package on the carpet—a brightly-colored view of city streets I vaguely remembered driving Hot Wheels on—and peeled off my jeans. The underwear—plastered to my skin—absolutely reeked of urine. As did the jeans. Putting those back on was going to suck. One problem at a time. I spread the diaper out on the floor and lowered myself onto it. I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t slow down. If I did, I’d talk myself out of it, and then what? A tearful confession and pleas not to report me to the church elders and my mother for lying and scheming and sexual perversion? I drew the front of the damn thing up to my bellybutton and taped it on, then stood up. The plastic crinkled when I did, bunching up awkwardly between my legs. If I put on ten pairs of boxer briefs, they might be half as thick as this thing. How did anyone wear one without being constantly distracted? I took a deep breath and cracked the door. “Hope?” She seemed taller. Like she was looking down at me, even though she wasn’t. She circled me, slow, assessing. “How’d I do?” I asked. “Well…” My stomach clenched. Why the hell did I care if she thought I’d put on a diaper properly?! “We’ll work on it,” she said. “Wait. We’ll—” “May I?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Her fingers brushed the front of the diaper. She peeled a tape loose. Smoothed it. Refastened it. Then the bottom tape. Her knuckles grazed me. Muted through the thick layers. Soft, but all the more electric for it. She stepped back and smiled. “Much better. Make sure you take the pack with you when you leave.” The diaper did feel better. Tighter, but more symmetrical. “Oh, and I have one more thing for you,” she said. “Something else I found last week, after you left.” She opened a battered cardboard box sitting on a shelf. I recognized that box from the storage room. “These are the costumes from old plays. Christmas, Easter, and some of those silly ones Pastor Jenkins did.” She held out a pair of billowy brown pants that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Captain Blackbeard, but were probably meant to be for a wise man or Joseph or something. They beat the clammy, piss-soaked jeans, at least. “Thanks,” I said, pulling them on. “You know, Thomas, it’s been so nice catching up with you. I really think we should start your piano lessons again. You’re so talented, and it would be a lot of fun. Plus, I could help support you in this new phase of life. I’ll see you Tuesdays and Thursdays after work.” I nodded numbly. As if I could say anything but ‘yes.’ As if it were even a question. *** I didn’t make it home. Not even close. Every bump in the road—every sharp turn and stop sign—rubbed the diaper against my parts. Which should have annoyed me. Embarrassed me. And it did embarrass me. Those crinkles and the feeling of the soft padding cradling my balls and forcing my thighs apart were humiliating. But also exciting. I was replaying our nursery interaction for the third time when I yanked the wheel and pulled off into a long-shuttered Citgo. The car behind me stood on its horn. I didn’t care. I barely noticed. I needed to replay that nursery scene again, except this time I’d accept her offer for help. I swung around the back of the building, out of sight of the road. Sort of. There was a side-road at a right angle to the building, but it didn’t seem too busy. I jammed my hands in my pants, feeling the soft plastic under my fingertips and my rock-hard dick beneath that. I closed my eyes and pressed that hard spot. Hope offered to help me change. I said yes this time. She slipped her fingers into the waistband of my underwear and slid them down my legs. When she reached my ankles, she was on her knees, looking up at me with those big eyes. I wanted her to take me in her mouth, but that wasn’t right. That’s not what this fantasy was about. I lay down on the nursery floor as she kneeled over me with a diaper. She wiped me down, her grip firm but soft as she ran the wipes down my length. Under my balls. Even around my butt. She smiled as she did, humming her hymn. She dusted me with powder, the sweet, cloying scent filling the air and clinging to my skin. Then came the diaper. Soft and fluffy. I squirmed, a flush creeping up my neck. I told I didn’t need it. Not really. But she ignored me. Just kept humming. The crinkling filled my ears as she slid it beneath me, her touch patient and practiced. She brought it up to my tummy. I reached up and squeezed her breast as she did and she smiled, but gently took my wrist and set my hand on the floor. She taped the diaper tight—so tight—encasing me in her soft prison. In her control. She bent over me. Her breath warm against my ear. “Good boy.” I came. Hard. Chapter 3 Hope answered on the first knock. She wore a modest denim skirt and a white top that hugged her collarbone but dipped just enough to suggest softness beneath. “Come on in. Shoes off by the door, please.” I stepped inside and set my battered sneakers next to a row of hers: leather flats, sandals, black church shoes with a slight shine. Something sweet hung in the air—a candle or something baking in the oven. Sunlight slanted through lace curtains, casting delicate patterns over a piano and a coffee table stacked with devotionals. A wooden cross hung over the piano, with what looked like a Bible verse in a plaque beneath it. The place was immaculately kept—books lined up with precision, not a speck of dust on the polished surfaces, pillows fluffed and symmetrically placed on the couch. A throw blanket, neatly folded, rested on the armrest. Even the scent of her home was controlled—clean linen, a faint trace of something flowery. Nothing overwhelming. Just gentle order. A soft rustling broke the silence, and I turned to see a sleek gray cat watching me from a perch by the window. It blinked at me, then stretched, utterly indifferent to my presence. “That’s Spurgeon,” Hope said. “He takes a bit to warm up, but once he does he won’t leave you alone.” “Okay.” I dropped my backpack by the door. The frayed straps and faded patches stuck out in this place, like a stain on a starched white collar. Like something Hope might sweep up into a dustpan and dump into the trash with a grimace. “Would you like a chocolate chip cookie? I made some to go along with tea.” “That sounds great. Thanks. Um, but first, I was wondering how much I’m gonna owe you.” She set a tray of cookies on the countertop. “I can chat with your mother about that.” “Actually, I was hoping we could just keep it between us for now. Like I was saying, money is tight. Don’t want her to feel like she has to.” And I want to keep this whole thing a secret until I figure out what the hell to do about it. Hope smiled. “I see. Well, in that case, let’s see how today goes, and then we can talk money.” I took a deep breath. Nodded. She put a kettle on the stove and turned to me. Her eyes flicked downward, then back up. “You’re wearing protection?” Heat crawled up my neck. “Uh, I used up my last one yesterday.” I said it with a straight face because it was the truth. I hadn’t wet them. Not with pee, anyway. But she didn’t need to know that. “I’m proud of you! Did you buy something new when you ran out?” I shook my head. “Thomas.” She frowned. “I wasn’t sure where to go or what to get. And I was…embarrassed.” “We talked about this. It’s good to feel ashamed of the right things. Of sin. If you’re feeling embarrassed about being responsible, that’s Satan whispering in your ear.” She put her hand on my back. “Come with me.” She guided me down a short hallway. Her bedroom was just as neat and orderly as the rest of the apartment. The bed was neatly made, with a white quilt as smooth and pristine as fresh snowfall. An antique wooden nightstand held a single book, its ribbon bookmark resting just outside the pages. Against the far wall, a modest vanity stood, its surface free of clutter except for a neatly arranged tray of perfume bottles and a small jewelry box. A framed scripture verse hung above it in calligraphy: "Be still and know that I am God." I stood in the doorway, feeling like I had stepped inside something sacred and intimate. Something that smelled like her, felt like her. And suddenly, I wanted to be in that bed with her, clothes off. No cookies. No diapers. No lessons. She wanted that, too. Had to, right? Beneath all that righteous nonsense, she was a young woman. But I didn’t touch anything. Didn’t say anything. I only stood there. This was Hope’s bedroom. Hope, who taught Sunday school and women’s Bible study and volunteered to clean the nursery. The same Hope that had gotten me into trouble countless times when she was a babysitter, and nearly as many more when she was my piano tutor: swearing, gossiping, disrespecting elders, failing to practice, failing to finish the verse of scripture she’d started to recite. It was always something. She opened her closet and there, neatly stacked, were four packs of adult diapers. “I’m going to keep a pack here, one in the nursery, and send two home with you.” Two packs. Mine to take home. Mine to use. The house would be silent. Everyone asleep. And my imagination would go wild. My skin flushed with heat. Not from the sight of the package—but from how much I wanted it. A fresh stack of nursing home briefs, and I was…what? Excited? No. Elated. Disgust curled in my stomach. What the hell was wrong with me? They’d find out. Someone always did. Mom, standing in my doorway, holding one of them between two fingers like it was a dead rat. Dan, laughing until he couldn’t breathe. Amanda, saying nothing—just looking. And that would be worse. “Hey,” Hope said softly. “It’s okay if you’re worried about money. You don’t have to pay me back. Seeing your smiling face, and knowing I’m doing everything I can to help my sweet friend when he’s in need? That’s all the payment I could possibly want.” She set one of the packs on the bed and pulled it open. The diapers—stuffed so tightly in that pack—expanded when she ripped the package, fanning out in thick, crinkling layers. “I’m going to check on the tea while you—” “I don’t know how.” The words spilled from my mouth before I could shove them back in. Hope raised her eyebrows. I suddenly felt warm all over. Like I was under a thousand spotlights. “These are different than the other ones. And I had enough trouble with those…” She looked at the diapers. Then back to me. Assessing. Calculating. “Okay. I see.” “But, um. I suppose I could figure it out if—” She smiled and squeezed my arm. “No, that’s alright, sweetie. I’m proud of you asking for help when you need it. What was I just saying about taking responsibility?” “That…it’s good?” She chuckled. “Yes. I suppose that sums it up. Asking for help is taking responsibility. When you can’t do something yourself, like put on a diaper, reach out to someone bigger than you.” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry, not ‘bigger.’ I’m so used to talking to the little ones in the nursery. But, the point remains.” I nodded. “Why don’t you take off your clothes and lie on the bed. I’ll get your diaper ready for you.” ‘Your diaper.’ That felt wrong. And…amazing? I slipped out of my jeans and folded them on the bed. I never made my own bed and rarely folded my clothes, but it felt important here. The right thing to do. And a distraction from my pounding heart. I’m in a girl’s bedroom. But it’s Hope’s bedroom. The church mouse. The prude. Who is about to see you naked. To put you in a diaper. “Thomas? The underwear too, silly.” She said it softly. Almost a whisper. “Right.” I shimmied my underwear down my legs. After my knees, they dropped to my ankles and stepped out of them. Hope smiled. “What?” She dropped her gaze to my groin. “I’m so proud of you for being modest, but you’re going to have to uncover yourself. This is about taking care of you so you can take care of yourself, remember? So I think it’s best if we treat this like any other diaper change I’d do.” “So I should have a pacifier or a stuffed animal or something?” The words—crazy, stupid words—just tumbled out, followed by an unhinged laugh. Hope wrinkled her nose. “That’s my Thomas. Always such a kidder.” “Hahaha, yep.” I dropped my hands, exposing myself fully. She didn’t react. She didn’t even look. Why are you disappointed? Did you want her gawking at your junk while it’s limp and you’re standing here like a dope in your socks and t-shirt? I stretched out on the towel she’d spread on the bed, barely resisting the urge to cover myself again. She worked the diaper in her hands, the plastic crinkling loudly. “Lift your bum, please.” I complied, bridging up. My penis flopped awkwardly up onto my tummy. She placed the diaper beneath me and then gently patted my hip. “Okay, down we go.” I lowered myself onto the padding and immediately noticed a difference: this diaper was thicker than the ones she’d given me before. Easily twice as thick, and those were like wearing a half a load of laundry around my waist. Maybe she’d gotten the wrong size? She held a white bottle in her hand. “What’s that?” “Baby powder. It’ll help keep your skin dry and keep you smelling a bit fresher. When you’re in diapers full-time, you’re not always going to be able to change right away. That’ll mean some—” “Full-time? This is just temporary.” “Of course, sweetie.” I sat up. “Seriously. I’m going to get this figured out. The whole accidents thing.” She smiled. “I’m sure you will. But until then, it’s a full-time problem that requires a full-time solution. But don’t you worry. I’ll help you be the responsible boy I know you want to be.” She placed her hand—warm and gentle, but unyielding—on my chest and pushed me back down onto the bed. I couldn’t wear these full-time. That’d mean I’d have to keep them hidden from everyone. And use them. Actually use them. She dusted me with the sweet-smelling powder, then traced her fingertips across my thighs. Hips. Tummy. She paused. “Now rub it into your privates, please.” I brushed the powder over my junk as I watched her towering above me. “Okay, and it’s important boys are pointed downward or else…” She frowned. “Thomas? Are you having lustful thoughts?” Yes! “No!” She ran her hand through hair. Shook her head. “This was a mistake. I thought you could be—” “I can be good! I really appreciate your help.” “You do?” I nodded. She stared at me, lips pursed. “If I give you a few minutes alone, do you think you can calm down and get those sinful urges…under control?” “Yes.” “Good. I’m going to check on the tea. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. Please stay where you are on the bed. I don’t want you getting baby powder all over my room. It might start smelling like a nursery in here.” She walked out of the room and closed the door behind me. I didn’t wait. It wasn’t going to take a few minutes. Not even close. I just wanted to feed the desperate craving. I gripped myself. I was rock hard. I closed my eyes. Hope wouldn’t check on the tea. She’d strip down and come back naked. She’d straddle me, taking me deep into her, and ride me hard, the diaper crinkling beneath us until— I spurted on my stomach. Again. A third time. Head spinning. Heart racing. I stared at the ceiling and caught my breath. She didn’t have tissues right by the bed like I did. No paper towels, napkins, underwear or socks, either. Which left one option. I brought the front of the diaper up to my belly button and wiped downward, transferring most of the spunk into the diaper. She’d see it. Almost as bad, I’d be wearing it. Sitting in it. She knocked on the door and immediately entered, like the doctor did. Or a mother checking on her little one. She eyed my crotch, and then the diaper. The white mess I’d left there blended in, but not entirely. And the smell was unmistakable. I held my breath. She smiled. “I’m happy to see you were able to get those sinful urges under control.” She gripped the front of the diaper and brought it up into place, smearing the goopy mess on me once again. She applied the tapes and then patted the front of the diaper, which I was already beginning to tent out with my excitement again. “Let’s go have a cookie and some tea before we start our lesson. Oh, and why don’t you leave your pants in here. I think it’ll help you get comfortable in your new diapers.”

Hi guys, I'm looking for a caregiver; the caregiver has to be willing to deal with a girl who doesn't like wearing diapers and is quite a brat. My Kinks: Abdl, diaper, pull-up, humiliation, punishment, forced diapering, pacifier, straitjacket, forced diaper use, regression, un-potty training, diaper punishment , bed wetting, Amazon, diaper dimension Turn-Offs: Abuse, gore, Snuff, If during an RP I feel at all uncomfortable or unsure of something I shall let you know immediately and we'll either divert or end it there, blood If you liked it, feel free to send me a message; and I'm open to any changes, I'm eager to read them.

" The scent of leather and sweat hit Bobby before he even turned his head—musky, expensive, the kind that clung to hotel sheets and late-night texts. Des lounged against the doorframe, all broad shoulders and lazy grin, his tailored slacks straining against a bulge that made Bobby's pink satin frills flutter with traitorous interest. "Missed me, cupcake?" Des drawled, his voice dripping with the same amusement Lucy wore when she tucked Bobby into his crib each night. Dr. Emma's clipboard clattered onto the tray as she stepped back, her latex gloves snapping off with surgical precision. "Right on time," she murmured, nodding toward the examination table where Bobby trembled, his damp diaper gaping open under the fluorescent lights. Lucy's stiletto tapped impatiently against the tile as she scrolled through her phone—past the photos, past the timestamps—to a fresh message thread titled *Session Notes*. "He leaked," she announced, tilting the screen toward Des. "Again." The plastic pants crinkled as Bobby tried to squeeze his thighs together, but Des was already crossing the room, his shadow swallowing the pathetic twitch beneath Bobby's frills. A calloused thumb swiped through the wetness on Bobby's inner thigh, coming away glistening. "Christ," Des chuckled, rubbing his fingers together with a smirk. "You weren't kidding about the *baby* part." Behind him, the nursing student muffled a whimper into her textbook. SUMMARY^1: Des arrives at the clinic, his imposing presence immediately dominating the room. Bobby trembles on the exam table in his damp diaper and frilly attire, visibly aroused despite his humiliation. Dr. Emma steps aside professionally as Lucy taunts Bobby with evidence of his earlier accident. Des mockingly comments on Bobby's infantilized state, further heightening his shame while the nursing student reacts with poorly concealed fascination. Lucy's phone clicked—capturing the moment Des' grip encircled Bobby's entire length with room to spare, his pinky finger brushing the tip like an afterthought. "Say cheese," she crooned, zooming in as Bobby's face crumpled. The flash illuminated the tear streaking down his cheek—and the unmistakable twitch beneath Des' thumb. Dr. Emma sighed, scribbling a note. "Paradox confirmed." Des' chuckle vibrated through Bobby's ribs as he leaned closer, his aftershave smothering the antiseptic clinic smell. "Gonna cry?" he murmured, flicking the leaking tip with his middle finger. Bobby's breath hitched—not from pain, but from the way Lucy's heel ground slow circles against his trembling calf. The nursing student dropped her pen. The diaper crinkled louder as Des straightened, peeling off his designer belt with a snap that made everyone jump—except Lucy, who licked her lips. "Hold still, princess," he purred, looping the leather around Bobby's thighs in one smooth motion. The contrast was obscene: Italian calfskin against frilly satin, the buckle glinting beside Bobby's tiny pink bows. SUMMARY^1: Lucy takes a humiliating photo of Des dwarfing Bobby's penis with his grip, documenting Bobby's tearful reaction. Des taunts him further, provoking another involuntary physical response while Lucy subtly encourages the degradation. Des removes his belt, securing Bobby's thighs with it—the luxurious leather starkly contrasting with his infantile attire. Dr. Emma adjusted her glasses. "Note the submissive's pupil dilation," she dictated as Des tugged the belt tight, trapping Bobby's erection against his belly—where it strained pitifully against the leather, barely making a ridge. Lucy's phone flashed again. "Perfect," she breathed. "Now Daddy's going to show you how *real* men fuck." The door clicked shut behind them, leaving only the wet sound of Bobby's quiet sobs—and the unmistakable *snick* of a zipper. The nursing student's gasp was sharp—Des' erection sprang free like a sprung trap, thick and veined and glistening at the tip. Bobby's breath hitched at the sheer *size* of it, his thighs instinctively trying to close—but the belt held firm, the leather biting into his frilly satin. Des smirked, stroking himself lazily as Lucy leaned in, her manicured nails digging into Bobby's shoulder. "Watch," she whispered—not an order, but a gift—as Des' other hand slid between Bobby's trembling legs, pressing two fingers against the damp plastic covering his ass. SUMMARY^1: Dr. Emma clinically observes Bobby's reactions as Des restrains him with the belt, emphasizing his humiliation. Lucy revels in the scene, announcing Des will demonstrate "real" masculinity. Des exposes himself, overwhelming Bobby with his size while Lucy forces him to watch. Des then presses fingers against Bobby's diaper, escalating the psychological torment. SUMMARY^2: Des arrives and dominates the scene, reinforcing Bobby's humiliation through verbal taunts and physical comparisons. Lucy documents Bobby's shameful reactions while Des escalates the degradation by restraining him with a belt and forcing him to witness his own inadequacy firsthand. Dr. Emma clinically observes as Bobby's involuntary physiological responses betray his conflicted arousal. Bobby's entire body went rigid—not from fear, but from the electric jolt of sensation as Des' fingers rubbed slow circles through the crinkling material. "See?" Lucy murmured, her lips brushing Bobby's ear, "Daddy knows just where to touch." The nursing student's clipboard hit the floor with a clatter as Des leaned in, his breath hot against Bobby's neck. "Bet you leak through your diapers when you hear her scream for me," he growled—and Bobby did, right then, a hot spurt soaking into the padding as Lucy moaned theatrically beside him. Dr. Emma's pen scratched faster across her clipboard. "Fascinating," she murmured, though her gaze kept flicking to Des' thrusting hips—close enough now that the head of his cock left a glistening smear on Bobby's frilly nightie. "Full physiological surrender... with marked premature ejaculation." Bobby whimpered—half from shame, half from the way Des' fingers were hooking into the waistband of his diaper, peeling it down just enough to expose the pink, quivering flesh beneath. Lucy laughed, high and bright. "Oh, babygirl," she cooed, snapping another photo, "you're *made* for this." SUMMARY^1: Des stimulates Bobby through the diaper, provoking an immediate physical reaction. Lucy verbally reinforces the humiliation while Des whispers degrading comparisons. Bobby involuntarily ejaculates, which Dr. Emma clinically records while Des exposes him further. Lucy captures the moment triumphantly, declaring Bobby's inherent suitability for this dynamic. The scent of leather and sweat thickened as Des pressed forward, his erection bumping against Bobby's trapped cock—mockingly gentle—before sliding lower. Bobby's breath hitched when he felt the blunt pressure against his entrance, the plastic crinkle of his diaper the only barrier left. "Wait—" he gasped, but Lucy shushed him with a fingertip to his lips. "Shh," she murmured, her other hand already lifting her skirt to reveal bare skin beneath. "Daddy's just getting started." Des chuckled darkly, his fingers tightening on Bobby's hips as he leaned in close. "Count the thrusts for me, princess." Bobby's world narrowed to the撕裂痛 of stretch, the obscene squelch of lubricant—when had Emma even handed it over?—and the way Des' cock seemed to *pulse* inside him, reshaping his insides with every brutal snap of hips. The nursing student's moan was unexpected—her fingers twitching toward her own throat as she watched, mesmerized, while Lucy arched against Bobby's shoulder, her breath coming faster. "That's it," she panted, nails digging into Bobby's satin-clad thigh. "Take it like a good little cuck." SUMMARY^1: Des positions himself against Bobby, using degrading language while Lucy escalates the psychological torment. He penetrates Bobby despite weak protests, with Emma facilitating silently. The nursing student reacts viscerally as Lucy praises Bobby's compliance, reinforcing his submission through physical and verbal dominance. The clinic's fluorescent lights buzzed louder, bleaching the scene in sterile brightness—Emma's clinical notes, the studen's bitten lip, Lucy's smeared lipstick as she came untouched just from watching. And Bobby? He was floating somewhere beyond shame, his body jerking in time with Des' thrusts, his tiny cock spurting helplessly against the leather belt with a high, broken whine. Des groaned—a deep, satisfied sound—as he buried himself to the hilt. "Fuck," he growled, "you really *are* just a hole." The wet slap of skin echoed off the tiles as Bobby's vision whited out. Dr. Emma's pen froze mid-scribble when Lucy suddenly straddled Bobby's chest, her skirt riding up as she ground against his tear-streaked face. "Clean me up, baby," she ordered, her thighs trembling—not from pleasure, but from the power of it. Des chuckled, his thrusts turning lazy now, possessive. The nursing student's clipboard slipped from her fingers entirely when Lucy arched with a gasp, her fingers twisting in Bobby's curls as she came again—this time with his tongue between her legs, his whimpers vibrating against her. SUMMARY^1: Des achieves orgasm while degrading Bobby, who experiences involuntary physical responses. Lucy then mounts Bobby's face, demanding oral service as Des continues slow thrusts. The nursing student is visibly overwhelmed as Lucy climaxes from the combined domination and Bobby's forced participation. Bobby barely registered the cold wipe Emma used to swab his stomach—sample collected, humiliation quantified—or the way Des finally pulled out with a wet pop, leaving him gaping and slick. All he could focus on was Lucy's heel digging into his thigh as she reached for Des' softening cock, guiding it toward Bobby's swollen lips. "Say thank you," she murmured, her thumb pressing down on his tongue. The taste of salt and leather flooded his mouth as he obediently sucked—not for pleasure, but because even now, his body craved the degradation. The students were breathing hard, their cheeks flushed darker than Bobby's abused ass when Emma finally cleared her throat. "Well," she said, snapping her gloves off, "I believe we've confirmed the hypothesis." Des smirked, tucking himself away with a casual zip as Lucy patted Bobby's damp curls. "Good boy," she purred, though her gaze was already sliding toward her phone—toward the next text, the next man, the next performance. Bobby shut his eyes. Somewhere beneath the ache and the stickiness, beneath the crinkle of his ruined diaper, he felt it—the traitorous twitch of renewed arousal. SUMMARY^1: Emma collects samples while Lucy forces Bobby to orally service Des, reinforcing his conditioned submission. The students react with visible arousal as Emma concludes the session clinically. Lucy's praise is hollow, her attention already shifting to future exploits, while Bobby's body betrays him with another humiliating physical response. SUMMARY^2: Des escalates Bobby's degradation through physical stimulation and penetration, reinforced by Lucy's verbal humiliation. Bobby's involuntary responses confirm his conditioned submission while Emma clinically documents the process. The nursing student observes with fascination as Lucy climaxes from the domination, reinforcing Bobby's role before concluding with forced oral servitude, leaving Bobby visibly broken. Des tossed the belt onto the exam table with a thud, the leather still warm from Bobby's thighs. "Keep it," he said, nodding at the mess between Bobby's legs. "Something to remember me by." Lucy laughed, high and bright, as she snapped a final photo—Bobby's glazed eyes, his swollen lips, the glint of saliva on his chin. The nursing student bit her knuckle, her knees pressing together. Emma merely scribbled another note. "Fascinating," she murmured. "The refractory period appears to be... negligible." The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting everything in a harsh, unflinching glow. Bobby's legs trembled as he tried to sit up, his frilly dress twisted, his diaper sagging. Lucy sighed, tapping her phone screen. "Des, baby, can you grab his party dress? We can't have him leaking on the Uber." Des chuckled, reaching for the pastel pink satin dress adorned with pink and white lace ruffles garment draped over the chair. Bobby flinched when the soft fabric brushed his skin—another layer of humiliation, another costume. Emma adjusted her glasses. "I'll email the full report," she said, as though discussing bloodwork. "Though I doubt you'll need it." Bobby's breath hitched as Lucy leaned in, her perfume cloying, her lips brushing his ear. "Next time," she whispered, "we'll invite the neighbors." His cock twitched again—pathetic, eager. Des laughed loud and cruel, as the door swung shut behind them. SUMMARY^1: Des leaves the belt as a degrading souvenir while Lucy captures Bobby's ruined state. Emma notes his lack of refractory period clinically. Bobby struggles to sit up as Lucy arranges his transport, ensuring further public humiliation in his soiled attire. Emma promises a formal report, underscoring the session's clinical detachment. Lucy whispers plans for escalated exposure, provoking Bobby's involuntary physical response as Des mocks him during their exit. Emma's fingers lingered on the clipboard, her gaze flicking to the nursing students—one flushed, the other gripping the counter like she might collapse. "Debrief in five," she murmured, though her eyes stayed fixed on the damp stain spreading across the exam table paper. Bobby's whimper was muffled by the crinkle of his plastic pants as he curled into himself, his tiny fists clutching the ruffled hem of his dress. nappy ,plastic pants and frilly knickers on dispaly for all to see. Outside, rain began to patter against the clinic windows, a rhythmic counterpoint to the wet sounds still echoing in Bobby's ears. Lucy's heels clicked down the hallway, her laughter mingling with Des' low growl—voices fading, but the humiliation clinging like the scent of latex andp sweat. The younger student finallyin exhaled, her knees bucklingk as she sank onto the abandonedfrilly k stool. "Jesus," she breathed, staring at Bobby's trembling form. "That was... crazy .. shit." SUMMARY^1: Emma dismisses the overwhelmed students while observing Bobby's lingering shame. The rain outside contrasts with the vivid memories of degradation as Lucy and Des depart. The younger student collapses, stunned by the intensity of the session, while Bobby remains curled in his infantilized state. Emma snappedcker her pen against the clipboard,s an her smile sharp as a scalpel. "Take notes," she saidastic, nodding toward Bobby pan's twitching thighs. "ts Section 4.3—'Post-Coital Regression in Adult Infantilism.'" The other student swallowed hard, her fingers shaking as she reached for her own pen. Bobby shut his eyes, the crinkle of his diaper deafening in the sudden silence. Somewhere, a phone buzzed—Lucy's, probably. Another text. Another man. Another night. His tiny cock gave a feeble pulse against the soaked padding. The clinic door creaked open again, letting in the scent of rain and car exhaust. The maure attractive female cleaner paused in the doorway, hermop bucket sloshing as she took in the scene—the ruffled dress, the plastic pants, the way Bobby's breath hitched when Emma's gloved finger traced the outline of his useless little nub. "Uh,,,oh dear she said, blinking.hen stifling a laugh . Emma didn't look up. "Closed for maintenance," she lied smoothly, nudging the belt off the exam table with her shoe. It hit the floor with a thud that made Bobby flinch. Outside, taillights streaked through the wet glass as Lucy's Uber pulled away. Des' laughter lingered in the air like cigar smoke. The younger student finally unfroze, her voice hushed. "What happens to him now?" Emma peeled off her gloves with a snap. "Same as always." She glanced at Bobby, curled fetal in his frills, and sighed. "He'll go home. He'll cry. He'll beg." Her pen hovered over the final checkbox. "And tomorrow, he'll ask for it again." Rain drummed harder now, a steady tattoo against the windows. Bobby's fingers crept toward the belt—the one Des had left behind. The leather was still warm. He pressed it to his cheek and inhaled, his hips jerking in tiny, frantic circles. The student gasped. Emma just smied, jotting down one last note. "Case study concluded," she murmured. "Subject remains... compliant." The cleaner backed away, her mop forgotten. The younger student—Jenna, Bobby remembered suddenly—licked her lips. "Dr. Forbs?" she whispered. "Can I... stay?" Emma arched a brow, then shrugged, handing her the clipboard. Jenna's fingers brushed Bobby's thigh—hesitant, then bold—as she traced the lace trim of his frilly pink satin knickers His breath hitched. Emma's phone buzzed—Lucy's name flashing beside a photo of Des, already shirtless in her bed. "Ah," Emma sighed. "Home improvements." Bobby whimpered as Jenna's fingers dipped beneath the elastic, hernails scraping in a way his thighs tremble. The older student groaned, her now fumbling with scrubs. "Jesus, Em, can we—?" Emma was already at the door, turning the lock with a decisive click. "Ten minutes," she said. Then, softer: "Mind the diaper. He leaks when overstimulated." The rain blurred everything beyond the glass—streaks of neon and headlights, the distant honk of traffic. Inside, though, the clinic ligh hummed, unflinching, as Jenna's breath hit Bobby's neck. "Pathetic," she murmured, but her palm pressed down harder, her hips grinding against the exam table's edge. The other student moaned, her fingers tangled in Bobby's curls, yanking his head back. Somewhere, Emma's pen scratched across paper. The belt forgotten now, slid to the floor with a sound like surrender. Bobby's thighs trembled under Jenna's touch, the wet crinkle of his plastic pants amplifying in the small room. The cleaner had left her mop propped against the door, but no one cared—not when Jenna's teeth sank into Bobby's shoulder, not when the other student gasped, "God, he's *soaking* through," her fingers coming away glistening. Emma adjusted her glasses, clinical, detached, but her pupils dilated as Jenna's nails raked down Bobby's chest. "Fascinating," she murmured, though her knuckles whitened around the clipboard. A knock. Three sharp raps, then silence. Jenna froze, her hand still fisted in Bobby's dress. The other student whimpered, pressing closer, her thigh slippery against Bobby's. Emma exhaled through her nose. "Ignore it," she said, but her eyes flicked to the door—to the shadow stretching beneath it. Another knock. Then a voice, low and rough: "Doc? You in there?" Des. Bobby's stomach lurched. Jenna's grip tightened, her lips curling. "Missed us already?" she called, her free hand slipping beneath the diaper's waistband. Bobby sobbed. Emma's phone buzzed—Lucy's name, again—but this time, the text was just a photo: Bobby's belt, looped around Des' thick wrist, the caption *Forgot something*. The older student moaned, her forehead dropping to Bobby's shoulder. Jenna laughed, high and bright, as the doorknob rattled. "Too late," she singsonged, her fingers working faster. Emma sighed, snapping her gloves back on. "Ten minutes," she repeated, but her gaze lingered on the shadow under the door. Bobby squeezed his eyes shut. The rain kept falling. The clinic lights hummed. The knocking turned to pounding, the door shuddering in its frame. "Open the fuck up," Des growled, his voice muffled but unmistakable. Jenna rolled her eyes, her grip tightening on Bobby’s hips. "Busy," she called back, popping the "s" like bubblegum. The other student giggled, her fingers tangling in Bobby’s curls, yanking his head back to expose his throat. Emma’s pen hovered over her notes, but her breath hitched when Jenna’s thumb brushed the soaked padding between Bobby’s legs. "Christ," she muttered, scribbling something illegible. "Case study *indeed*." The pounding stopped. A beat of silence. Then—a slow, deliberate scrape of metal against the doorframe. Des’ voice dropped to a whisper, oily with promise: "Better hurry, Doc. Lucy’s getting *impatient*." Bobby’s breath hitched, his thighs trembling as Jenna’s nails dug into the soft flesh above his frilly garter. Emma’s clipboard clattered to the floor. The older student whimpered, pressing closer, her lips brushing Bobby’s ear. "He’s *dripping*," she breathed. Outside, the rain blurred everything—streetlights, laughter, the sound of a car door slamming. Jenna’s phone buzzed—Lucy again, this time with a video: Des, shirtless in the Uber, his belt coiled around his fist. The caption read *Coming back for seconds*. Jenna smirked, shoving the screen in Bobby’s face. "Look at that," she purred, her free hand slipping beneath his diaper. "Someone’s *popular*." Bobby’s whimper was lost in the sudden screech of tires outside, the clinic lights flickering as the door shuddered one last time. Emma sighed, peeling off her gloves. "Time’s up," she said, but her eyes never left Jenna’s fingers. The rain kept falling. The belt lay forgotten on the floor.

So one of the reasons that "Bad Husband, Better Baby" updates slowed down was due to a commissioned piece. Now that I finished writing it I can now post it on here... It will be posted in installments to keep you guys salivating for more If anyone would like a commissioned story from me or have an idea they would like to discuss please send me a message and we can talk about it and see if we can come to an arrangement --- Sam and the Mysterious Nursery By David Morgan (Elfking) Sam Jones was slowly shuffling down a dark and deserted street, he was kicking a small rock along in front of him and was generally annoyed. The 18-year-old had just been at a party hosted by his best friend Taylor Smith whom he had known since childhood, he was also the reason that Sam was annoyed. As Sam scowled and walked down the dark road at just past midnight he felt his pocket vibrating and pulling out the phone saw that Taylor’s name was on the screen. Sam hesitated unsure if he wanted to speak to his friend in his annoyed state. Eventually he decided it could do no harm and he slid his finger across the screen to answer the call. “Hello.” Sam said shortly. “Hi, Sam, dude… I’m sorry I hit on that girl man, I didn’t know you had your eye on her. Come back to the party, man.” Taylor said earnestly and shouting slightly to make himself heard over the top of the music and noise of the party. “You always do this Taylor! You see me eyeing up a girl and then you dive in and try to get her yourself…” Sam started saying. “Dude, I didn’t know! I swear! Please just come back, have a few drinks and we can forget about all this nonsense.” Taylor said sincerely wanting his best friend back at the party. Sam stopped and leant against a big metal gate, facing toward the street he considered going back. It was quite a walk back, he had left 20 minutes ago but in the general noise and commotion of the party his friend had been distracted hosting it until just now. “Taylor, I would but I’m already half way home. I’m just down that long and dark road with all the factories, I don’t really want to walk all the way back now. Besides I already texted mom saying I will be home soon.” Sam said. He gave the rock a kick and it bounced off the curb and into the empty road in front of him. As he watched the little stone bouncing into the darkness he thought for a second he heard a noise on the other side of the gate. “No problem.” Taylor said disappointedly, “We’re still cool though right?” “Yeah… Yeah sure…” Sam said. He was now only paying a little attention to his friend as he had turned to peer through the darkness at where he thought the noise came from. “Cool, I’ll ring you tomorrow OK?” Taylor said. He started turning toward the house and heading back into the living room where most of the party was going on. “Sure.” Sam said still distracted and he hung up and put his phone back into his pocket whilst still looking into the darkness. As he strained his eyes to try and see what was back there he suddenly felt a small impact on his back. Moving his hand to the impact site and turning around he didn’t see anything. Just as he was about to leave he looked down and saw the same small rock he had been kicking back at his feet. “What the-” He said looking up at the still deserted street. It was then that he heard the great gate wrenched suddenly open and a shot rang out. Sam stumbled backwards in shock. He looked down at his arm where he had felt the impact of the shot. Expecting to see a bullet or something he was shocked to find a large needle. He rushed to pull the needle out of his arm and started trying to run down the road away from the gate and towards his home. As Sam ran he felt the terror starting to fade from him, then he felt other more physical sensations starting to fade. His run slowed down and gradually he lost the feeling in his limbs. He had only made it 20 feet when he fell to the floor. He was awake and fully conscious but his arms and legs were no longer responding to his brain. As much as he urged his muscles to move they resolutely refused. He tried calling out but found the sound he produced was just a quiet gasp. After a few seconds he felt something grab his two feet and start dragging him, seemingly effortlessly, back towards the gate. As he was pulled past the threshold of the large gate he saw them close automatically as he desperately tried to scream or move to stop the arm that he couldn’t see. Out of his coat his last hope faded as his phone fell onto the grass a little beyond the gate. Tears fell silently from Sam’s eyes as his last hope faded and he assumed the worst was about to happen. Would he be tortured? Killed? Whether it was from the fright or the drugs coursing through his system he fell into unconsciousness as he was dragged through a door in the side of the warehouse that slammed shut behind him and locked automatically. --- When Sam’s eyes opened again he had no idea how much time had passed. It took a moment for him to even realise his eyes were open in the pitch black. He blinked a few times and it didn’t get any lighter. Feeling panic rising Sam stayed very still, not hard to do since the drugs were still affecting his muscles, and he considered the situation. He had been drugged and kidnapped, it had been just past midnight on the Saturday night when it happened but he had no idea how long he had been unconscious, it could have been five minutes or five days for all he knew. He thought back to the moment he was taken yesterday, he hadn’t seen his captors at all. Whoever they were they had very skilfully taken him without him even getting a glance at them. He assessed the place he was in. He assumed he was inside now because it was warmer in here than it was outside. It wasn’t uncomfortably warm, but it was definitely not the frigid temperature that it was outside. He could also hear a slight humming in the distance, he wasn’t sure if it was electrical or heating or something else but it definitely seemed like he was indoors. “H-Hello.” Sam’s voice came out as a croak. It was an improvement on not being able to speak at all when he was first drugged at least. There was no answer, no change in the noises. Silence still dominated over everything and the stillness in the air remained. It was almost like there was no one else in the building at all. A seed of hope sprouted in the young man as he wondered if it had been a bad prank or something and he had been left in the room and abandoned. It wasn’t a great situation but it was better than being tortured or killed, Sam thought to himself. Sam attempted to move his arms and legs and found that with a lot of effort he was finally able to somewhat control them again. He slowly pushed himself on to all fours and then very slowly rose up to his knees. Then with great effort he forced himself to stand up. Immediately upon getting to his feet lights on the ceiling switched on and filled the room with light. The sudden burst of light was too much for Sam’s eyes and he stumbled backwards shielding his eyes and fell backwards on his still unsteady feet and landed back on the floor. This time though things were different. The lights remained on and instead of silence Sam could hear whirring noises coming from the ceiling above him. Still blinded by the light he couldn’t work out what was going on. Suddenly he felt, what felt like, a hand reach under him and try to lift him up. Sam was in the crawling position and when he felt the hand he tried to bat it away. Whoever was trying to grab him was strong but hitting the hand away loosened its grip for a second. Sam used this second to start crawling as fast as his still numb limbs would allow away from the arm. His vision was still blurry but he thought he could see a door on the far end of the room and he made a break for it. Crawling at first and then rising up to a stumbling walk he fixed his blurry vision on the door and did his best to get there. Just as he thought he was getting away the hand grabbed him again. Only this time its grip on the back of his shirt was firm and not easily shrugged off. Then Sam felt another arm wrap around him, only something was odd about this one. Looking down he screamed as much as his still very raspy voice would allow as he saw a log metal tube about the same width as his arm wrapping around his torso like a boa constrictor. As it slithered around him he saw the “hands” he had been feeling were attached to these tubes. As he looked in horror at the tube wrapping around him another hand came down from the ceiling in front of him and wrapped around his legs. He struggled as much as he could but these mechanical limbs were keeping a firm grip. The hands were big and white on the end of the tubes, they reminded Sam of the gloved hands of some cartoon characters that he had seen. The arms lifted him up effortlessly and carried him back toward where he originally woke up. Eventually they lowered him down on to a table. He wondered if they would loosen their grip now and he could try to escape again. As Sam was thinking this chance more hands came down from the ceiling and the hands clasped his wrists and forced them down on to the table. Sam started shouting for help, the shock and fear becoming overwhelming as the mysterious machine restricted and controlled all his movement. As he shouted he felt two more of the hands grab his ankles and held them down. He was now lying with his arms and legs outstretched seemingly covered in these arms for lack of a better word for them. The arms that had grabbed his shirt and wrapped around his midsection now retreated and quickly went back into the ceiling. All that were left were the arms holding his limbs. Sam wondered what was next. Were they going to harvest his organs? Was this some sick prank? What the hell were those arms!? As these questions whirled through his head some of the arms came back down from the ceiling. Sam started crying now, he was terrified about what these hands were going to do. As they got closer he started begging with his voice now mostly recovered from the effects of the drugs. “Please… Please don’t hurt me…” He sobbed, “My parents have money, they will pay you…” The metal mechanical hands continued down either not able to hear or not able to care about the pleading. They reached Sam’s chest, Sam closed his eyes and tensed up waiting for whatever torture he was sure they would perform. Then after not feeling any pain he slowly opened his eyes and dared to look again. The hands were now delicately undoing the buttons of Sam’s shirt and when they were all undone the arms manipulated Sam so that they could remove the shirt whilst still keeping him restrained. Sam felt like a doll to these machines, unable to move himself in any meaningful way and totally controlled by whatever desires these machines had. The hands now headed southward and Sam watched through the tears as his pants were unzipped and pulled down too, with more arm manipulation they were pulled off leaving Sam lying there in just his pair of purple briefs. Sam felt very helpless, near naked and with these arms holding him, he felt totally vulnerable. He looked at one of the arms holding one of his wrists and marvelled at the technology. It seemed like it was far beyond technology he had ever seen. It moved like a snake in that it seemed extremely flexible but it was also extremely strong. As much as he struggled he couldn’t move it an inch. Despite his terrible predicament, he marvelled at the technology and wondered who could make such a machine. Sam was quickly snapped back into the reality of his situation when he felt the two hands that had been undressing him grab the waistband of his briefs. “No, no, no-” He started saying in vain as the hands dispassionately pulled them down and took the purple underpants away. Sam was now left totally naked on the table, still being held down and still scared at what might come next. He watched as the two hands disappeared into the ceiling with his clothes and then seconds later they re-emerged with something white and plastic looking that Sam couldn’t make out. He quickly realised what it was when the hands began unfolding it though… “A DIAPER!?” He shouted, “Please, whoever is controlling this… STOP!” He begged. Sam was of course powerless to resist. The diaper was unfolded and placed beneath him, then the front was raised up and taped on perfectly and quickly. It was super thick, and as Sam looked down he could see little patterns across the front of it. The arms lifted him up again, this time with no arm around his waist his now padded butt hung low and he was placed into a bed that had really high bars on it. It took a second for Sam to register that he had just been placed in an oversized crib! He opened his mouth in shock as he now looked around the room for the first time with his now fully adjusted eyes. The room was an overgrown nursery! It had the changing table that he had been on, the crib he was now in and was littered with toys and other baby paraphernalia. The hands retreated into the ceiling and left him alone in the crib. Sam was in shock. He looked around the room again and then down at himself, unable to articulate what he was seeing and feeling he just shouted as loud as he could. “WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!”

Here is the start of a brand new story! The first part has been available on my Patreon for the last week and anyone who subscribes at the $5 tier get early access to all my work. The people at the $10 tier get early access plus exclusive stories. There are other tiers and rewards available. I'm about to embark on a special Christmas bundle for my patrons. Over the next four days I will post two Patreon exclusive stories and two updates to on-going stories. I couldn't write as much as I do without the support of my wonderful Patrons. A huge thank you to: DannyDazzler, Daniel O, Sophie S, Dre, Darrell, Jack C, Frank Sz, S Millard, Cheryl C, Carlota Cr, Alex W, Snazzycool, Ron M, M, Tsidt, Britnee L, Trenton M, Geoffrey J, Robert J, Chris, Cole T, Dorian G, Babybb, J Land, Tim F, Cvsflip105, Chris B, WillNotWill, Jerry J, Charlie S, P, Orion F, John, Kevin H, Tom H, Sterling W, Ryan, Jens B, Thomas R S, Matthew S, Pierry L, Matthew, John D, Cole, Scott S, Akithor, Diapering Daddy, Guilyn, Miguel A, James B, A Random Patreon, Eric C, Ben R, C Dom, Lin J, Ben F, Henry C, Bob, Michelle G, Kent J https://www.patreon.com/Elfy88 I also write commissions. Please message me if you are interested... I charge £5 per 1000 words with a 20% discount if you are a patron. --- Stork Industries By Elfy “This is bullshit!” Charlotte exclaimed. She banged the desk in front of her in frustration. It wasn’t her desk but the desk of the much older editor of the newspaper that Charlotte worked for, Mr. Bloom. She rubbed her face as she tried to get her temper under control. At 22-years-old, Charlotte was very new to her job as a journalist and she was eager to make her name for herself. Her impatience was doing her no favours though as she was desperate for a big story. Even though she only worked for a small regional newspaper she knew that she could go all the way to one of the big publications, she just needed the big break. That one story that pushed her over the edge and made her nationally recognised. “Easy, Miss. O’Brien…” The editor said from behind the desk, “This desk would be harder to replace than you.” Charlotte closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She found it hard to swallow her emotions when it seemed like all her male colleagues were getting the breaks whilst she languished at the bottom doing fluff pieces. “I just… I just want a proper story.” Charlotte said with forced calmness. “You get proper stories!” Mr. Bloom replied. “The local beauty pageant? The story of the stolen horse?” Charlotte replied with a shake of the head, “These aren’t stories!” “I don’t know what to tell you.” Mr. Bloom shrugged, “The others work bigger stories because they go and find their leads. If you come up with a bigger story you can write it.” Charlotte held her tongue when she remembered when she had been brand new and sniffed out a story of civic corruption. She had told Mr. Bloom and was shocked a few days later when one of her male colleagues was given the story. “Just be patient.” Mr. Bloom continued, “You are young and when you take things into your own hands it can be dangerous. Just keep chipping away and your time will come.” “I’m going for lunch…” Charlotte replied sulkily. She didn’t want to hear what the old editor had to say, what did he know about being young and ambitious? He was the editor for a tiny newspaper out in the middle of nowhere. Charlotte walked over to her desk in the middle of the newsroom and grabbed her coat and handbag. She wanted to get away to a quiet café where she could calm down and forget about the world. At college her ambition had been praised and encouraged, in the real world she felt like it was a negative and something to be ashamed of. Walking down the road away from her offices, Charlotte felt like something was a bit amiss. She looked behind her as she walked and saw a woman who seemed far too covered up for the warm conditions. Charlotte wondered if she was being followed. Charlotte continued down the road until she encountered her favourite lunch spot, a small café on the edge of the busy part of town. The café was never busy and it was the perfect place to go for some sandwiches, coffee and reflection. “The usual.” Charlotte said with a smile to the young woman behind the counter as she sat down with her newspaper. Charlotte opened the newspaper, held it in front of her and started reading. She shook her head at both her internal frustration and another day filled with bad news. She started reading a story about disappearing people that had the police stumped but she had to stop halfway through, the grammar was just atrocious. How did these people get jobs? “Hello.” Charlotte jumped so hard she nearly knocked the table in front of her over. She dropped the newspaper on to the surface in front of her and with wide eyes realised that the person she had seen earlier was now sat opposite her at the tiny table. A young woman, maybe in her thirties, who looked like she hadn’t slept in days. She was pale and haggard and reminded Charlotte of a wild animal. The stranger’s wide eyes looked around the small café as if scanning for threats. She looked positively crazy. “Do… Do I know you?” Charlotte asked haltingly. One of her hands went to her pocket where she had mace on standby. She knew journalism could be a dangerous job but she didn’t expect trouble at lunch time in the middle of a shop. The mysterious woman didn’t reply. The swivelling eyes had settled on Charlotte and now she was staring a hole through the young journalist, it was as if she was looking into Charlotte’s very soul. She licked her cracked lips but didn’t speak. Charlotte, getting over the shock of this woman’s appearance, lowered her voice and softened her face. If this woman was crazy and dangerous then surely she would have attacked Charlotte by now. That said, this was still a tricky situation to navigate. Charlotte could still sense the possibility of danger and she could feel adrenaline pumping to prepare for any situation. “Is everything OK?” The woman behind the counter making the coffee looked over at the only occupied table. Charlotte looked at the strangers darting eyes and could sense that she was about to run away. Charlotte didn’t want her to leave, there must be a reason this woman followed Charlotte and if she hadn’t attacked her by now Charlotte felt she never would. “Everything’s fine.” Charlotte smiled. She spoke with a confidence that she didn’t feel, “Could I get another coffee for my friend though.” The waitress looked a little confused and suspicious but nodded her head as the coffee making machine whirred into life behind her. “You’ll love the coffee here.” Charlotte said as she folded up the newspaper and put it back in her bag. The stranger stayed silent still but Charlotte could almost feel the woman relaxing a little. If Charlotte wanted to know why this woman had stalked her down the street she needed her to relax. “My name’s Charlotte.” Charlotte said warmly, “What’s your name?” The woman was still voiceless. Just when Charlotte thought she wasn’t going to answer, the stranger muttered something under her breath. It was far too quiet for Charlotte to hear. “I didn’t catch that.” Charlotte replied as she leaned across the table a little. “L… L… Laura.” The woman whispered so quietly that it was almost like she hadn’t spoken it at all. It was as if she had just breathed it across the table. “Nice to meet you Laura.” Charlotte smiled as she leaned back in her seat. A few seconds later, the waitress arrived and left two steaming cups of coffee at the table. Charlotte thanked the lady and assured her that they wouldn’t need anything else. Charlotte sipped her coffee before putting it back down. Laura didn’t move. “You should really try this coffee.” Charlotte said, “Delicious. Authentic too, not any of that chain shop crap.” Charlotte watched as Laura rather robotically picked the coffee up and drank from it. She made no indication that she either liked or disliked what she was drinking. She kept her eyes on Charlotte the whole time. “I’m guessing you didn’t follow me here for no reason…” Charlotte prompted. “You… You’re a journalist?” Laura asked. Again her voice was so low that it took a moment for Charlotte to realise what she had asked. “I am.” Charlotte replied. “Can I trust you?” Laura asked. There was a quiet desperation to her voice. “I’d like to think I’m trustworthy.” Charlotte replied. Laura bit her lip, she was looking increasingly agitated again. Charlotte took another sip from her drink. This didn’t feel like a dangerous situation any more, this felt more like a desperate situation, Laura needed help. Charlotte watched as Laura reached into her pocket and pulled out a photograph. She slid it across to Charlotte who looked down at it. The photo was of two people, an adult and a baby. They were outside in a park somewhere and looked very happy. The woman in the photo was clearly Laura but Laura looked very different now, this photo must have been taken years ago. “Beautiful little girl you’ve got.” Charlotte smiled at Laura as she spoke. Charlotte was surprised when instead of beaming with pride and happiness, her words caused Laura to look heartbroken and incredibly sad. Charlotte immediately realised she had hit a raw nerve. “I’m sorry. I had…” Charlotte began. “No, it’s OK.” Laura said as she took a deep breath and steadied her nerves, “I came to you because I need your help.” “As a journalist?” Charlotte asked quietly. “Yes… I just need someone, anyone, to investigate this before it’s too late.” Laura whispered. She looked out the window as if expecting to see someone watching them. Charlotte had no experience with this level of story. This seemed like either a potentially career making piece of news or this person was completely insane. “Talk to me.” Charlotte replied, “What’s wrong? How can I help?” “My daughter.” Laura closed her eyes and a single tear rolled down her cheek, “She was kidnapped and taken to a secret facility.” She’s crazy, Charlotte thought. Charlotte just nodded to Laura with a sympathetic look on her face. “I have proof.” Laura continued sensing Charlotte’s scepticism. Charlotte watched as Laura looked around again, brought out her phone and opened up a video. When she looked at what was playing it looked like it caused her great pain. “Watch this.” Laura said as she passed the phone over. Charlotte looked down at the video and it took her a minute to work out what was going on. The small screen showed what looked to be a close up of a bush, it took a second for Charlotte to realise that the person was sitting in a bush and breathing hard as they peered through the branches in front of them. They appeared to be deep in a forest and as the hand moved a branch Charlotte could see a large warehouse building. It was oddly placed in the middle of a clearing in a forest and just as Charlotte was trying to work out the scale of this building a van parked outside a large metal shutter which opened. “What’s goi-” Charlotte started. “Just watch.” Laura replied quickly. Two men dressed in black climbed out of the front seats and walked around to the back. They opened the door at the back of the van and started gesticulating wildly. It was too far away to make out what they were actually saying and Charlotte squinted at the little screen to try and see what was going on. Charlotte audibly gasped as she saw a group of people pulled out of the van in chains. Men and women were pushed through the open door and into the factory. The camera was too far away to pick up what they were saying but Charlotte could see that these people were being herded against their will. “Oh my God!” Charlotte exclaimed as once the adults had been moved she saw the men pull out a bunch of cages. The camera zoomed in and Charlotte could see little human beings in the cages, most of them crying. Babies had been caged and were being carried into the warehouse that the chained adults had also been placed in. “What the hell…” Charlotte gasped as the recording ended and Laura took the phone back. “I followed them.” Laura whispered, “That warehouse or whatever must be full of people they have taken.” “But… Why?” Charlotte asked with wide eyes. “I don’t know.” Laura replied, “That’s the closest I can get. My baby is in there, I just know it.” “You have to tell the police!” Charlotte whispered. “I tried but they are either in on it or think I’m crazy. They won’t investigate it, even with the video.” Laura replied sadly, “I need you to get it in the media. They would have to investigate then!” Charlotte’s first thought was to ask if Laura was crazy. Laura wanted her to visit this factory and get a scoop, she was a journalist not a superhero! “Laura, I-” Charlotte began. “I can’t trust anyone with this. I only come to you because bringing attention to this thing is my last hope.” Laura replied, “A young reporter like yourself, surely a story like this would be huge for you.” Charlotte was stopped in her tracks by what the stranger had said. A story like this WOULD be huge for Charlotte, it was exactly the kind of thing she needed to push up to the next level of journalism. Heck, if this thing was legit she could win a Pulitzer Prize or something! “Alright.” Charlotte said, “I’ll see what I can do. Give me your phone number so I can get in contact.” Laura looked relieved that someone was taking her seriously and she quickly scribbled her number down on a napkin and handed it to Charlotte. “Thank you.” Laura said as she stood up, “You have no idea how much this means to me.” Charlotte smiled up at Laura as she stood and left the café. As quickly as Laura had appeared in Charlotte’s life she vanished again, mixed in with the crowds of excited shoppers.

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