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Chapter 1 - She Found Out As a work from home programmer, I had it made. My wife, Susan, was beautiful, big breasted, with red hair and a fiery personality to match. I got to work a few hours a day, and spend the rest of the time doing whatever. We had no kids, something she was biologically unable to produce because of a rare condition, so we spent our money on ourselves. Her bad habit was travel. She was always on the road for work. Sometimes in Europe, sometimes in Asia, and there were multiple yearly trips to Vegas for some stupid conventions. That left me with a lot of time by myself, and I indulge in my vice -- diapers. I had experienced a bedwetting issue during puberty, that reared its ugly head now and then, usually when I drank too much. That exposed me to the solution my parents eventually landed on -- diapers. Now as an adult, I bought and used adult diapers all the time when I was alone. It was my forbidden escape, my stress reliever. One day, when I was home by myself, and Susan was on one of her business trips to who knows where, I was sitting in a very wet diaper in the living room, on a towel on the couch. On the big screen TV I had attached my laptop. On the TV was a vial bi-sexual diaper porn. A naked woman playing "mommy" was "breastfeeding" two adult baby boys as they had their hands in their diaper stroking their cocks. I too had my hand in my diaper watching the sexy scene unfold on screen lost in the moment as I approached orgasm. That's why I didn't hear the garage door open, or Susan quietly walk into the room. "What in the holy fuck is going on here Max? Is THIS what you do when I'm not home?" Susan screamed. My eyes shot open, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. Susan stood in the doorway, her luggage dropped to the floor. She was supposed to be in Japan for another three days. Her eyes were wide with shock and anger as they scanned the room—the diaper I was wearing, the towel beneath me, and the explicit scene playing out on the TV. I quickly hit the pause button, my heart racing like a jackrabbit in a cage. "S-Susan," I stuttered, desperately trying to find the right words to explain my humiliating predicament. But before I could form a coherent sentence, she stormed over and slapped me across the face. Hard. Her palm stung like fire on my cheek, and the shock of it sent a jolt through my body, freezing me in place. The TV flickered with the paused image of the "mommy" figure smiling down at her "babies," adding to my mortification. Susan's eyes were blazing with a fury I had never seen before. "How could you?" she spat, her voice trembling with disgust and hurt. "Is this what I've been missing while I'm slaving away for us?" I couldn't meet her gaze. The wetness of the diaper felt like a cold, clingy truth, a stark reminder of my secret life laid bare. "I—I don't know," I murmured, feeling the weight of her accusation crushing my chest. Susan's breathing was heavy, her chest rising and falling with rage. She grabbed the TV remote and turned the volume up, the woman's sultry voice echoing through the room. "Look at yourself, Max," she hissed, pointing at the screen. "This is what you get off to?" Just then, the two adult diaper clad men on the screen began to play with each other, grinding their diaper covered cocks against one another, while the "mommy" encouraged them on. She was fingering her pussy. Susan's jaw was on the floor, stunned with what she was watching. "I-I can explain," I managed to squeak out, my voice shaking with fear and embarrassment. "It's just something I do to relax." As I spoke those words, one of the diapered men in the video untaped the diaper of the other and took his cock in his mouth. I instinctively groaned in delight, forgetting for a split second that Susan was in the room. Her eyes snapped to me, the rage in them now mixed with a hint of curiosity. "Is this what you need?" she said, her voice eerily calm. "Is this why you've been so distant lately?" The question hung in the air, heavy with accusation and pain. I tried to pull my hand out of the diaper, but my cock was still watching the porn, refusing to let go. "Susan, it's not what you think," I whispered, my voice cracking. But she wasn't listening anymore. She was staring at the TV, the scene now depicting the two adult babies in a passionate sixty-nine, their diapers peeled back to reveal their erections. Susan licked her lips. Then one of the men mounted the other, shoving his cock inside him and calling him his "Diaper Slut." That's all I needed to hear. My cock, which had a mind of its own, was triggered, sending me into a very obvious orgasm as I shot load after load of cum into my wet diaper. "Oh my god!" I shouted. Susan spun around and stared at me appalled at the site before her, rage boiling in her eyes. "You're disgusting," she murmured, the words cutting through the silence like a knife. I sat there, my diaper now soaked with cum, feeling more exposed and ashamed than I had ever felt in my life. The scene on the TV continued, but it was as if someone had hit the mute button. All I could hear was the hammering of my heart and the harsh sound of my own ragged breaths. Susan stepped closer, her eyes never leaving mine. "Do you know how much this hurts me?" she whispered, the anger in her voice now replaced by something else—something that scared me even more. "I-I'm sorry," I choked out, the reality of the situation crashing down around me. "It's just... a thing. It doesn't mean anything. It's just for fun." "Well I'm going to show you just how much you're hurt me today with this... with this... whatever it is." In a swift motion she unbuckled her black leather belt and pulled me up off the couch. She sat down in a close by chair and pulled me over her lap. In what seemed like no time she had pulled down the back of my diaper and began spanking me as hard as she could with her belt. The sting was intense, each smack echoing through the room. The sound of the leather slapping against my bare ass was like a drum beat of humiliation. I couldn't believe this was happening. The pain grew with each hit, and my body jolted with every strike, but my cock remained stubbornly erect. "You want to be a baby?" she sneered, her hand rising and falling in a rhythm that was punctuated by my grunts and yelps. "Then I'll treat you like one." I didn't know how to process that statement, all I knew was that the beating continued without end. My ass was on fire, moving from pale white, to pink, to deep red, to spots of purple. "I can't believe this is what you do behind my back," she said with each smack. "What else are you hiding from me?" With that she threw me from her lap onto the floor. I was sobbing now, rubbing my abused ass. I looked up at her, tears streaming down my face. "I'm sorry," I whispered again, not knowing what else to say. Susan's expression softened for a moment, but then it was as if she remembered her anger. She stood up and walked over to me, her high heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She reached down and grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling my face to look up at her. "You're going to tell me everything," she said, her eyes cold. "Everything you do when I'm not here. Every little detail of your pathetic little life." "Yes... mommy." The words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them, a reflex from the porn I had been watching. But as soon as they were out, I realized they weren't just a slip of the tongue. Some part of me craved the role Susan was playing, the power and control she had over me in this moment. The rage in her eyes flickered with something new, something darker, and she tightened her grip on my hair. "That's right," she said, her voice low and dangerous. "You're going to tell me everything, and then maybe, just maybe, I'll decide if I even want to stay married to a man who's been hiding in diapers like some kind of... some kind of sicko." I nodded, tears still streaming down my face. The pain from the spanking was intense, but the fear of losing Susan was even worse. "I'm sorry," I repeated. "It started after my accident when I was younger. I just... I can't help it." "Look, I know you've wet the bed a few times in our marriage, mostly when you went through that depression and drank too much, but this?" "Actually, it happens more than you know. You're just gone so much, and we're never intimate in the mornings, so you've never noticed that I've been wearing a diaper off and on for a few years now." That wasn't the right thing to say, I could see it in her eyes. "Every morning?" she asked, her grip on my hair loosening slightly. "You've been wearing diapers for years and you didn't think to tell me?" Susan's other hand slapped me across the face. "How could you keep this from me?" she yelled, her voice shaking. "How could you be so...so...twisted?" The force of her slap sent my head spinning and my eyes watered. "It's not like that," I managed to croak out, the sting of the truth burning my tongue. "It's just something that...I don't know." Susan's expression was a tumult of emotions—fury, betrayal, and a hint of something else. "Get up," she ordered, her voice laced with a firmness I rarely heard from her. I struggled to my feet, my legs wobbly and my ass throbbing with pain. She pointed to the corner of the room. "You're going to stand there," she said, "and think about what you've done. But first, tell me where you hide all this stuff, because I want to look at it all." I mumbled, "In the back of my closet. On the floor." Susan let go of my hair and walked over to our bedroom, leaving me to stand in the corner, my diaper still hanging open and my cock still hard. The coldness of the room made my skin pebble, and the pain from the spanking was a constant throb in the back of my mind. I could hear her rummaging through the closet, tossing things around, and then she emerged, her arms filled with diapers, baby bottles, pacifiers, and a few other...toys, including my spanking paddle, and a long, black dildo. "What in the fuck, Max?" Her voice was a mix of rage and disbelief as Susan dumped the contents of my secret stash onto the bed. She held up the spanking paddle, her eyes narrowed. "You've been playing with this?" I only nodded. "Well then let's get some use out of it." With that she sat on the end of the bed and pulled me back over her lap for the second spanking in the last 10 minutes. It was a leather paddle made for spanking that I bought at a local porn shop. It even said "SLUT" in red letters. As she raised it high, I felt a mix of terror and something else...excitement? The first smack was like a bolt of lightning on my already tender flesh. "You're going to get ten," she announced, her voice firm, "and you're going to count them out loud." The spanking was a symphony of pain and pleasure, each blow making me flinch and whimper, the sound of the leather on my skin punctuating the silence. "One," I managed to choke out, my voice shaky. "Two." The pain grew with each number, but so did my arousal. It was a confusing mix of emotions, but I couldn't deny that the sting of the paddle was turning me on. As Susan brought it down again, she said, "And you're going to tell me everything about this little... hobby of yours." The third smack hit me harder than the others, making me gasp. "I've been wearing them because it... it makes me feel safe," I confessed, the truth coming out in a rush. "When I'm stressed or anxious, it's like... I don't know, it just makes everything okay." "I'm supposed to do that for you, Max!" The fourth hit was the hardest. "Four," I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady. "It's not just the diapers. It's... the whole experience. The way it feels, the smell, the warmth." I could feel the wetness spreading in the diaper with every smack. "And the humiliation," I admitted, my voice barely above a murmur. "It turns me on." Susan paused, as if she was thinking. Then the spanking resumed with extra ferocity. "Five," I called out, biting my bottom lip to keep from screaming. "Six. Seven." Each number grew softer as the pain became too much to handle. I began openly sobbing. Susan paused, looking at me with a mix of anger and something that looked almost like pity. "Why?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Why would you need this?" "It just... it feels right," I managed to say between gasps. "It's like... it's like I'm being punished for something I don't even know I did." Susan's arm paused mid-air, the paddle hovering over my crimson ass. "Punished?" she echoed, her tone skeptical. "Yeah," I choked out, "It's like... it's like I'm being disciplined. It's a release." Susan's grip on the paddle tightened, her knuckles white. She brought it down again with a sharp crack, making me yelp. "You want discipline?" she spat. "You're going to get it." The final few blows were in quick succession and harder than ever. They made me squirm and cry harder than ever before. "Ten," I whimpered, my voice a pathetic wisp. She tossed the paddle aside and stood up, her expression unreadable. "Take it off," she said, pointing to the diaper. "Take it all off." I complied, my trembling fingers working to untape the soggy mess. The cool air hit my skin, making me shiver. I felt more exposed than ever before. The diaper fell to the floor with a wet slap, leaving me naked with my obvious hard on. "Now, tell me why you do this," Susan demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. My body was a canvas of pain, but the fear of losing her was the most overwhelming feeling. "It's just something that started when I was a teenager," I began, my voice shaking. "After the accident, it was like... a comfort thing." Susan's eyes searched my face, looking for something—understanding, maybe. "But you didn't tell me," she said, her voice tight. "You kept it all hidden from me." "I was afraid," I admitted, my voice small and pathetic. "I didn't think you'd understand." Susan's face softened a fraction, but the anger didn't leave her eyes. "Understand? Max, I'm your wife. I'm supposed to understand you, support you." "But it's so weird and embarrassing," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't think you'd be able to handle it." Susan sighed, her eyes scanning the pile of diapers and toys on the bed. "I don't know if I can," she said, her voice filled with a sadness that cut through me like a knife. "But I'll try." "What... what does that mean? Does that mean you won't throw all this away? Does that mean you're not divorcing me?" Susan looked at me, her eyes filled with a mix of emotions I couldn't quite decipher. "It means," she began, her voice measured, "that I want to understand. I want to know why you need this. Maybe there's something I can do to help you. Or maybe..." she trailed off, her gaze lingering on the diapers and toys, "maybe there's something here for me too." My cock heard that answer before my brain did and rose to attention. Susan noticed, her eyes flickering down to my crotch before snapping back up to my face. "What the hell?" she said, her voice filled with confusion and a hint of revulsion. "He... uh... has a mind of his own." Susan stared at my erection with a look of horror, but I couldn't bring myself to be embarrassed anymore. I was too relieved she wasn't immediately kicking me out or calling a lawyer. Then she did something I never would have expected. As she began undressing she started talking in a measured and serious tone, "Honey, you know that I can never give you a baby. It's impossible. That's why we've never worried about condoms. There's no need." I nodded my head. I was lucky there. "But maybe you can give me a baby?" By this point she was down to her underwear. She had a hot red thong on, and a matching bra that was trying but failing to contain her enormous tits. "What... what do you mean?" Her eyes met mine, a fiery intensity burning within them. "I mean," she said, her voice low and deliberate, "that maybe there's something in this...this lifestyle that we can explore together." My heart pounded in my chest as Susan reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting her breasts spill out. They were magnificent, full and firm, the nipples erect with arousal. She slid her thong down her legs, revealing her bare pussy, already glistening with wetness. My cock throbbed in response, the pain from the spanking forgotten in the face of her sudden openness. "Maybe you can be my baby, Max? I'll diaper you, feed you, spank you when you're bad. You could even suck on my boobs and see if they eventually produce milk." My cock jumped at that suggestion. "But first... fuck me one last time as my husband." Without thinking about what that meant I pushed her onto the bed. Her eyes widened with a mix of surprise and desire as she fell back onto the soft mattress. I climbed over her, my body trembling with anticipation and fear. The smell of her arousal mixed with the faint scent of the diaper, creating an intoxicating aroma that fueled my need. My cock, still hard despite the pain, found its way to her wet opening, and I slammed into her with an urgency that surprised us both. She gasped, arching her back, her breasts bouncing as she wrapped her legs around my waist. The pain from the spanking was a distant memory now, replaced by the fierce pleasure of Susan's warmth enveloping me. Her nails dug into my back as I pounded into her, her moans growing louder with each thrust. The bed creaked beneath us, a rhythmic soundtrack to our desperate coupling. I could see the shock slowly morph into something else in her eyes—desire, mixed with a hint of the love that had always been there. My hips moved faster, driven by a primal need to claim her, to show her that even in my most vulnerable state, I could still be a man she could want. Susan's legs tightened around me, her heels digging into my ass, urging me on. I'm not a well endowed man, but I can fuck... I think... and I was doing it with gusto. "Ugh... ugh... ugh... your pussy feels incredible!" As I continued to fuck her, Susan's eyes rolled back into her head. It had been months since we were intimate together. It had become a rare occurrence where she mostly laid there and waited for me to quickly finish. But tonight, I had cum already, so I had a little stamina in me. Her pussy was tight around my cock, gripping it like a vice as she matched my rhythm with her own desperate movements. "Cum for me, Max," she moaned, her voice thick with passion. "Fuck me, baby. Yes, just like that. Cum inside me!" Her words sent me over the edge, and with a roar, I did just that, filling her up with everything I had. It was a release like nothing I had ever felt before, a culmination of guilt, fear, and an overwhelming desire to be accepted by the woman I loved. Susan moaned, a little lust and a little disappointment that I didn't last longer all mixed together. Then she did something she had never done before. "Now clean it up. With your tongue." My heart raced as Susan's command pierced the quiet post-coital moment. She didn't have to repeat herself. I leaned down, my mouth watering with a mix of excitement and trepidation. The taste of her was sweet and tangy, a mix of her juices and my sperm. As I licked her clean, I realized that she was just as into this as I was. After a few moments, she grabbed my head with her hands and screamed as she finally orgasmed from my feast. When I was done, Susan sat up, her eyes gleaming with a newfound excitement. "Now, let's talk about this," she said, her voice still shaky with arousal. "I don't want to just ignore it, Max. If this is what you need, I want to be a part of it. But we need to set some boundaries." I nodded eagerly, willing to agree to anything she said. "Of course," I murmured, my heart racing. "You will wear diapers 24-7 and use them for their intended purposes. No more toilet for you. Understand?" I nodded, the gravity of her words sinking in. This was really happening. Susan was giving me the chance to embrace my kink with her, but it came with a price—complete submission to her rules. "I am in charge. ALWAYS. What I say, goes, and if you disobey me, you will be spanked. Is that clear?" Her voice was firm, leaving no room for negotiation. I nodded vigorously, my heart racing with both excitement and fear. "Yes, Susan," I murmured, my voice thick with anticipation. "I will feed you. We will buy a highchair that will fit you, and that's where you will have your meals. When you behave, I will let you suckle on my breasts. I will also investigate what it may take for me to actually produce milk out of them. Got it?" I nodded again, overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events. This was not how I had ever imagined my life playing out, but in that moment, I was more turned on than I had ever been. "When we go out, you must wear a diaper under your adult clothes. We may have some outings where you are in more babyish clothing, which I guess I'll need to buy, but most of the time you will be dressed normally. Ok?" I nodded, trying to keep my voice steady. "Okay, Susan." "Now for a few you may not like as much. First. you will now sleep in the guest room. I'll put a rubber sheet on it so you don't ruin the mattress, but we are going to make that room your nursery. I will outfit it accordingly as we do this. That also means you are never sleeping in this room again. It is now MY room. This... is MY bed. You are the baby, and sleep in the baby's room. No argument." My heart sank a bit at that, but I knew she was in charge now. "Yes, Susan." "Second, while we are home, you will address me as "mommy." Failure to do so will get you in trouble. Clear?" "Yes, mommy," I replied meekly, the word feeling strange and yet oddly comforting on my tongue. "And finally, that was the last time we will have vaginal sex ever again. You are my baby now. You are no longer my husband. If you need to "make cummies" because you're horny, we will find other ways to find you release." I was shocked... stunned. This is not what I wanted. "But Susan?" She swiftly slapped me across the face. "No arguments." I nodded, sheepishly. "When mommy needs a release, I too will find other means of that, and you will not interfere. Understood?" The words hung in the air, heavy with their newfound implications. I nodded, feeling both scared and exhilarated by the sudden shift in our dynamic. The sting of her hand still lingered on my cheek. "Otherwise, the consequences will be severe..." she paused for effect "...and expensive. Tell me you understand." I nodded, my throat tight with a mix of fear and excitement. "Yes, mommy," I murmured, the words feeling foreign yet surprisingly right. Susan stood up, her naked body a testament to the power she now held over me. She picked up the wet diaper from the floor and tossed it into the trash can. "Now go lay down on the guest room... I mean nursery bed. I will get a diaper and wipes and meet you there." I felt a mix of excitement and fear as I walked to the guest room, my legs still wobbly from the spanking and the intense orgasm. The room looked so much smaller and more juvenile than I remembered. The reality of my new life was setting in, and it was both terrifying and thrilling. When Susan joined me a few minutes later, she had a fresh diaper and a pack of wipes in her hands. She approached the bed with a stern look, her eyes gleaming with the excitement of our newfound role-play. She looked so powerful, so in control, and I found myself craving her dominance. "Lay down, baby," she said, her voice a mix of authority and tenderness. I obeyed, feeling a strange comfort in her command. She began to wipe my still hard cock clean, her touch gentle yet firm. I watched as she handled me like a mother would her toddler, her eyes never leaving mine. As she secured the fresh diaper around my waist, Susan spoke again, "Now, let's talk about this new arrangement. You're going to follow all my rules, and you're going to do exactly as I say. Do you understand?" I nodded, my voice quivering slightly. "Yes, mommy." Susan's eyes searched mine, looking for any sign of resistance or mockery. Finding none, she gave a curt nod. "Good boy," she said, and the words sent a shockwave of pleasure through me. "Now, let's get you dressed for bed." She pulled out a t-shirt I owned but hadn't worn in a while. It was quite childish with carton characters on it, not unlike the cartoon dinosaur on the diaper I was wearing. "Where did you find these diapers anyway, Maxy baby?" "Online mommy, you'd be surprised what's available on Amazon." "I guess I would," she chuckled and shook her head as she pulled the shirt over me. "Now stand up," she said firmly, and I did. SWAT! She spanked my diapered butt with her hand. I winced. "You will have regular bedtime spankings to remind you who is in charge, but I think your ass has had enough punishment for one night. Now get under the covers." Her voice was firm, but there was a hint of warmth in it that I hadn't heard in a long time. I complied, sliding under the sheets and feeling the coolness of the fresh diaper against my skin. Susan bent down and kissed me gently on the forehead. "Goodnight, baby," she said, her voice a gentle purr. "Remember, this is your new life now. If you're a good boy, I'll take care of you."

The idea for this story wouldn't leave me alone until I started writing it just to get it out of my head. This is my take on the diapered prisoner trope along with a dash of dystopian horror. It's set in the future, a few centuries from now. No flying cars, but we've got moon and mars space colonies! And mentions of gangs and cartels doing gang and cartel things. My favorite are two adorable squishy cuddly diaper boys who come in a little later (no, they're not prisoners. They're victims and survivors) and they're the sweet and sugar to balance out any bitter. If you've read any of my other stories, you know I suffer from chronic Happy-Ending-Itis. This story is a bit different for me. I'm experimenting with a few things . I haven't written the ending yet, and I have no idea how that will turn out. 😂 SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL by Cute_Kitten aka C.K. Kat In this day and age, humanity likes to delude itself with beliefs of progression, of evolving civilization with basic dignity and human rights for everyone. Even for us convicts. I’m here to tell you right now that is a bunch of bullshit propaganda. Politicians lie and people give themselves pats on the back for progress that only exists in theory and on paper, not in reality. Who I was on the streets does not matter. What I did in the past does not matter. At least, it shouldn’t matter enough to strip away my basic human rights and violate my dignity. That is what they do in here. They strip you of everything. Literally and figuratively. I made mistakes. I can admit that. I was a poor, fatherless boy and young teenager growing up in lawless, dangerous streets. I had no choice except to do the things I’ve done. Anyone would have done the same. Survival demanded it. What would you have done in my shoes? You would make the same choices me and thousands of other lost, misfortune souls made. Let the vicious, unforgiving streets eat you alive or run the streets? Society gives you no choice. Then, when you get caught- and you will sooner or later because it happens to us all- society demands you pay the price for the choices it forced upon you. Each of us in this life think we’re smarter, we’re more clever, we’re better than the fools that get caught. We all think “I’ll never get caught.I’m not like those losers.” Until they slap the handcuffs on you and shove you into a cell. Then you realize you’re not that smart or you fucked up somewhere. I’m only twenty one and I’m going to spend the rest of my life behind bars. It’s a gross misappropriation of justice. My sentence is purely political, just so the police and politicians can look good, like they’re fulfilling their campaign promises to “get tough on crime and finally clean up the streets after decades of violence and bloodshed. Let’s make this country safe again!” This crackdown on crime resulted in harsh, lengthy sentences that turned criminals into victims of an extreme, vindictive regime. I’ve been speaking in a lot of generalities and abstracts. Let me get specific so I can help you understand. First off, the judicial and penal systems are very different in many countries. Some places execute drug smugglers (and my international gang never dared to set up shop in that country because the police are rabid and trigger happy) while other places hang homosexuals and stone to death women who were raped. My country does not have the death penalty. I wish it did. Death would be a blessed end, a heavenly release from the decades of confinement and torture I have yet to endure. I’m getting ahead of myself. I often do that. Sorry not sorry cuz I’ll probably do it again. So, my country is a tiny, insignificant dot on a map. We’re not a global superpower or political heavyweight in the international or intergalactic spheres. Hell, most people could not find our little country on a map. We’re a proud people who love our country and our culture very, very much. We were the death capital of the Milky Way for over fifty years. For five decades, two gangs ran the country in constant warfare for territory and to eliminate each other. The government barely clung to a tiny corner of land and power. They only maintained existence by striking deals with the gangs. Yeah, that’s right. Even the high and mighty bureaucracy feared us and paid us for the right to exist so we didn’t roll into the capital and curb stomp them into oblivion. The army and police were also terrified of us. We ran the prisons. Our two gangs were huge. International, with branches or tribes in nearly every country. We were working on setting up shop in the moon and Mars space colonies when there was an election. No one in my gang paid any attention. Who cared what boot-licking figurehead won? In a day or two the new president would come crawling on hands and knees, offering up a monetary tribute if we promised not to kill him. Toothless paper tigers, the lot of them. The gangs were the true power and the whole universe knew it. The citizens all feared and respected us. We literally held their lives in our hands, able to kill on a whim without repercussion. Do you see now why I had no choice but to join the gang who ruled my village when I was twelve? Survival of the fittest. Law of the wild, law of the jungle. The law changed with the new president who shook the very foundations of our country. He was a third party candidate. For over five decades, two parties dominated politics and ran on empty promises to wage war on gangs. Civilians, so sick of the death and violence and useless parties, decided to throw all their desperate hopes on a virtual unknown. We laughed. How could a no-name upstart from an insignificant third party change the very fabric of our country, our society, our communities and our very way of life? We knew he would fail just as all those before him failed. If a war broke out between the various gang factions and the government, we knew we would win just as we’d always won in the past. And that’s without the rival gangs calling a ceasefire and teaming up. Hell nah, dog. We don’t play like that, fool. The other gang is our mortal enemy. We would fight and kill each other and the government goons all at once. Even if we did get arrested, we had judges and lawyers in our pockets. We knew how to exploit the law. Even if we did go to prison, so what? We could still issue orders and run things from the inside. This new president said war, and he meant it. We thought it was just the usual political bluster. Months passed. Life carried on as usual while the president worked behind the scenes to destroy our safety nets. Judges were impeached and removed once an investigative panel found them corrupt. Prisons were restructured. A state of national emergency was declared. A new prison, a megamax specifically designed for the most violent gang members, was built in only a few months. Once the preparations were complete, the new president was ready to launch his offensive. A state of emergency was declared. Laws and due process were suspended so that swift, sweeping arrests could be made and streets cleaned up. This new president studied where and how his predecessors failed. He increased the power of the police and established special gang task forces with the sole duty of rounding up gang members. How would they identify gang members? Tattoos. These chumps had five decades to study the gangs and knew well how we operated, what each gang’s tattoos and symbols are and what they meant. Tattoos are very special and important to gang life. You have to earn them. They show off your rank within the gang, the things you’ve done for the gang, your accomplishments, and what tribe or branch of a huge, international gang you belong to. Tattoos give you instant respect and street cred. They identified you, told your story. Any non-gang member who replicated the tattoos because they thought it was cool or wanted to emulate us and appear all tough like a Billy Badass got their throat slit. If a gang member got a tattoo they had not earned, we cut it out of their skin, flaying them alive. The only way to get a tattoo, to get respect and rank, is to earn it. The government goons knew it all, every ink-stained secret compiled into a book for their jackboots. That, too, was new. We waited for the president to come grovel before us, begging on his knees for a peace deal as was tradition after each election. He never came. We should’ve realized what this meant. In our arrogance, we assumed it was because he was terrified and trying to find his balls. The special task forces were new. The Emergency Martial Laws were new. The net was wide; preparations thorough. We didn’t realize the noose was closing until too late. City blocks, suburban towns, small jungle villages; all were hit in random blitz-krieg attacks of armed men in armored, bullet proof cars rolling in and rounding everyone up for inspection. Kinda like the Nazis did to the Jews. Civilians were let go. Anyone with gang tattoos was immediately arrested. Having a gang tattoo was now a crime. No warrants, no due process. Your tattoos rendered you automatically guilty. Non-gang tattoos were immediately released with the other civilians. Skip court and go directly to jail. No bail cuz you got gang ink in your skin. You can talk with a lawyer and judge later. This is a war against violent sub-human scum, as my arresting officer told me. He also claimed they were taking the country back so kids could have childhoods and play outside and go to school without fear of trafficking, being sold or shot. The soldiers went from building to building. House to house, shop to shop, looking everywhere. Civilians- those who were once so terrified of the deadly, brutal consequences of ratting out gang members to the police- now happily cooperated because the soldiers made them feel safe. They even helped the soldiers check by pointing out all of our hiding places. We used to use civilian non-gang affiliated houses and shops when it was convenient for us. Anyone who refused suffered. Maybe a body part was cut off as a punishment and warning to others. Usually a child’s. Parents become swiftly docile when you threaten to cut off their kid’s ear or pluck out an eye. If they lived in gang territory, their lives and their property belonged to the gang. We always made sure to collect our dues. These raids were not a one and done deal. They happened repeatedly at random, snaring more gang members each time. The high ranking members, we who ran things, went straight to the brand new supermax prison built just for us. Now that you have a general idea of what has been going on in my country, let’s get to the heart of the matter. This new super prison, the diapers, the forced incontinence, and the numerous human rights violations. Yes, that’s right. Diapers. We have to wear diapers.

Chapter 1: The Show That Changed Everything Terry had always humored Genevieve’s curiosity. So when she found a flyer for an adults-only hypnosis show and asked if they could go, he agreed with a shrug. “Sure, babe. Could be fun.” He didn’t expect what followed to flip their entire world. The theatre was dim, cozy, filled with couples and clusters of friends sipping wine. There was a buzz in the air—like everyone knew they were about to see something forbidden. The stage was set simply: one couch, one chair, and a single overhead spotlight. When the hypnotist walked out, a tall, silver-haired man with eyes like polished stone, the crowd hushed. “Tonight,” he said, his voice rich and slow, “we play with the mind. But more than that—we play with who you think you are.” Volunteers were called. At first, it was silly—people clucking, dancing, barking. But then it shifted. Terry and Genevieve watched as the hypnotist selected a tall, shy man near the back. He looked out of place—gangly, nervous, like he hadn’t meant to volunteer but got pressured by friends. The hypnotist guided him gently on stage and spoke in low tones. The man’s eyes fluttered. “Drop for me,” the hypnotist said. “That’s it. Let go.” Within moments, the tall man was kneeling. “You feel small now,” the hypnotist whispered into the mic, “so small you can’t think unless Daddy tells you what to think. You want to feel useful to Daddy. Don’t you?” The crowd murmured, caught between shock and arousal. The man nodded. “Good boy. Now crawl to your waiting Daddy. Show the room how eager you are.” From the edge of the stage, another man stepped out of the shadows—broad-shouldered, in a tailored vest, waiting patiently with a smirk. He radiated confidence, his eyes fixed on the hypnotized boy with hunger and control. As the submissive crawled to him, Daddy’s expression deepened into something almost reverent—he was watching someone surrender utterly for him, and he relished every second. “Present your mouth,” the hypnotist commanded. The boy moved between Daddy’s legs, hands settling gently on his thighs, eyes wide and adoring. He leaned forward, lips parting, and began to suck with slow, reverent eagerness. It wasn’t clumsy—it was worshipful. Daddy’s arousal was obvious—not just physical, but psychological. He exhaled slowly, his chest rising as he leaned back slightly, letting his hand rest possessively in the boy’s hair. His smile was content, yet hungry. Each motion of the boy’s lips and tongue coaxed out more than just sensation—it fed his dominance. He watched the boy with half-lidded eyes, taking in the sight: the flushed cheeks, the glistening lips, the soft gagging sounds that only made it sweeter. The pleasure wasn’t just from the act—it was from the power. The absolute control. The boy’s eagerness was intoxicating. “You see him?” the hypnotist purred to the audience. “That’s devotion. That’s a good little cocksucker giving Daddy everything he has.” The submissive moaned around him, trembling, hips subtly grinding against the floor. He was in deep—obedience and humiliation turning into raw pleasure. He never once broke contact. Daddy stroked his cheek with pride. “Look how much he needs this,” the hypnotist continued. “And look how much Daddy enjoys being worshipped.” Daddy’s other hand gripped the armrest, knuckles white, pleasure mounting as the boy increased his pace—sloppier now, more desperate. His legs tensed, hips lifting subtly into the boy’s face. His breathing deepened, each moan a confirmation of just how close he was. Then came the moment: a slow intake of breath, a growl of satisfaction, and the boy burying deep, holding himself still as if offering himself completely. Daddy’s eyes fluttered shut. He held the boy close for a moment, savoring the aftermath, fingers gently stroking through his hair. It wasn’t just release—it was fulfillment. Power and pleasure, perfectly intertwined. The boy’s body shook with his own climax, silent and overwhelmed, his cheeks still wet. He didn’t stop until Daddy exhaled and leaned back with a whisper of approval. When the hypnotist clapped his hands, the trance lifted. The boy blinked up, dazed, resting against Daddy’s leg like he’d just woken from the most vivid dream. The room erupted in applause. Terry blinked. “Holy shit,” he whispered. Genevieve didn’t answer. Her hand had drifted to Terry’s thigh, fingers squeezing slightly. That night, as they walked home, she was quiet. But her eyes sparkled. “Did that turn you on?” she finally asked. Terry hesitated. “I mean... it was intense. Hot, yeah. But more weird than anything.” Genevieve grinned. “I think I’d like to try learning it.” He laughed. “To get me to bark like a dog?” “No,” she said softly, voice husky. “To make you beg like him.” Terry didn’t sleep much that night. Neither did Genevieve. But for very different reasons. That was the night everything began. Let me know if you want more!?!?!?

I didn't want to at first, but you had managed to talk me into it. It was supposed to help spice up our relationship. I would get a chip implanted, giving you access to change you in any way you wished. You could change my body, personality, and make me obey. You promised I wouldn't do anything to crazy to me. But now that I have the chip, what would I be able to do anyway? Now that you can make me do whatever you wish with just an app on my phone, our relationship will get so much better. (For you at least anyway.) You could make me wet, sleep, stop talking, wake, mess, cum on command, or forbid me from doing so at all. You could censor your eyes from seeing anything you don't want me to. You'd be able to make me say and do anything. I might not like it as much as I hoped. (But you will.) Anything to make sure our relationship will keep going strong. You'll know everything you need to keep our relationship going and exactly how to do it. Hope you like the prompt! We can expand upon it as needed. We could also do it with a variety of relationship types. Professor, doctor, mother, etc. I'd like you to send a description of your character as well so I know you've read through the prompt. Dms are fine, just use the rp title to get my attention My kinks for this roleplay are domination, diapers, humiliation, bathroom control, transformation, etc... Limits are anything underage, beast, and snuff.

I've always got a hundred stories in my mind, but this just came-up and I had to write it down. Hopefully my muse remains with me. This fictional story contains explicit adult content and is intended for readers 18 and older. If you are under 18 or uncomfortable with mature themes, please stop reading now. Step Down Chapter 1 Present Day His first step brother was bad enough, but his new step-brother seemed even more unbearable because he was well-liked, had a good part-time job and had more freedom, but was younger! It was infuriating. And even if Lachlan used to tease him mercilessly for his bedwetting - even after his mom had split-up with Chris - that was at least 4 years ago and he’d thankfully finally stopped wetting. But Cayden still had a curfew at 19 years old for chrissakes! Noah had just turned 18 and could do what he wanted. He even had his own decent second-hand car. Sure, Cayden had gotten a low-level drink-driving charge, and just because his special licence conditions imposed a curfew, didn’t mean his parents had to! And he couldn’t believe his mum let his new step-dad spank him over it, nor did he really put up a fight or even run away from home - he knew he couldn’t take on Ross nor make it on his own yet. It was too shameful. He knew Noah must have been listening and laughing at the spanking. He wasn’t even able to drive his mum’s car without supervision for at least another 6 months. Noah wouldn’t let him anywhere near his old BMW. “You’d better wise-up bucko. You're very lucky my lawyer got you a Section 10 suspended license. Do you know how hard it is to get a job with a criminal record? Sometimes you can’t even travel to foreign countries with a DUI. You’re bloody lucky you didn’t kill someone, yourself or wreck the car. It’s going to be a long time before we can trust you like an adult again. You’ll need to show us you’re working towards being more responsible like Noah and either studying with a part-time job or joining the army and learn to behave like a man,” his step-dad Ross had reminded him again after the court date. No, Noah was the Golden Boy. He could do no wrong in Ross’ eyes and even his mum Steph fell in love with his charms. He’d just been accepted into the National Institute of Dramatic Art and mum had always loved drama at school, and had even been in amateur productions. Everyone was over the moon - they all expected he’d soon be on Neighbours or even in Hollywood or The West End in a few years. He’d already gained attention in regional High School drama competitions and he’d even been an extra in a couple of teen TV advertisements. It didn’t help Ross and Noah came from a rich family while Steph was more middle-class and they’d recently ended-up moving into Ross’ big fancy apartment on Sydney Harbour. Cayden had certainly noticed the hoity-toity attitude from Noah and his friends. Some of them owned yachts, horses, and went on big European holidays. Others were becoming doctors (ugh) and lawyers (ugh). One girl he fancied was even training to be a navy helicopter pilot. While they were usually polite, none of them really tried to hide their disdain for the nerdy or poorly-dressed Cayden. He’d even overheard Liv, Noah’s girlfriend, agreeing with Noah that he must still be a virgin - which was true, but still hurt - followed-up by the cruel laughter they all often employed. When he’d recently gotten some courage to talk to his counsellor about Lachlan and his teasing over his bedwetting, he’d said he probably still had some unprocessed trauma about the whole thing. And that might explain his disdain for Noah, who was clearly leagues ahead of him in maturity. It especially didn’t help when his mother Steph was convinced to get Cayden to wear Huggies DryNites pull-ups for his bedwetting because Lachlan would always complain about the smell and must have seen the benefit in doing less washing all the time. While Lachlan was relentless in the teasing over his “Huggies” - especially when he was wet in the morning - Cayden would beg to be allowed to try alternative methods (which he’d googled) such as special drugs, hypnosis or even just a washable bed pad. After speaking with the family doctor - always a terrifying ordeal for Cayden in front of the female doctor whenever his bedwetting came-up - his mum wasn’t keen on the drug side-effects. Besides, Dr Sharma said that nighttime protection could be beneficial for a teen’s restful sleep. Chris had finally put his foot down and said that if he was still wetting the bed like a toddler at 14, he would wear pull-ups like a toddler and that was that. And if he didn’t stop complaining, Cayden would get a spanking and they’d order some cloth nappies and plastic pants for him - something that Chris’ cousins had to wear for bedwetting when he was a child - arguing they’d be cheaper in the long-run than expensive DryNites. That shut-up Cayden, but triggered Lachlan into further ecstatic spasms of teasing - he’d google these dreaded babyish items and send them to Cayden via threatening SnapChats. He would manage to find all sorts of babyish versions made for adults to send to him and it made Cayden wonder who really wore all this stuff. Lachlan didn’t even get into trouble when Chris was teased at school about it. It got so bad, they had to move him to another school. Fortunately the stink of it didn’t follow him. While he lost the battle over his pull-ups, his mum did agree to some hypnosis which apparently had helped Chris give-up smoking. Not that Cayden stopped wetting for another two years, but he assumed it must have had an effect as his wet nights slowly reduced over time. The smaller spare room was eventually converted into a bedroom for Chris who had to keep his old single bed, while Lachlan as the older boy, upgraded to a double-bed and his own larger room. After his mum broke-up with Chris, they’d moved into a small apartment and things seemed to get better without Lachlan, even if he still sent the occasional SnapChat. Cayden didn’t have the guts to block him, lest he find another more public channel to humiliate him with. After Cayden finished High School with passable results, he bummed-around for a bit, playing games and riding to the beach. His mother demanded he get his license and get a job and start paying board because rent was getting really expensive. He countered that he was still trying to work-out what he wanted to do, and besides most kids these days had a gap year anyway. Not that he’d done much except playing games, swimming and having the occasional piss-up in the park with his mate Jack who would buy a box of cheap goon wine. He finally got his open license eventually - after failing once - of which his mother was very proud, until he fucked-up. In the meantime, she’d met Ross and they’d moved in, and while they weren’t paying rent anymore, the pressure had actually increased and they were once-again demanding Cayden grow-up and be like Noah. If only he could take the Pampered Prince down a peg or two and deflect some attention away from himself.

This is my first story posting on here. I would love to hear your comments on what you liked and future ideas! Let me know if you have any critiques or suggestions. I'm still figuring out the formatting here. Also, AI helped me write this story. Humiliation at Walmart Chapter 1 of 8 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.

Microfiction (noun) A complete story told in 300 words or less. Multi-chapter novellas like Weekend in the Mechanical Nursery or Bella's New Punishment both started as 2,000 word shorts, and I wanted the chance to push myself to be more concise with microfiction. Follow along as I aim to tell complete and compelling stories of discipline, humiliation, and regression in less than 300 words. If you want to support my writing and get access to exclusive stories and works in progress, come and hang out with us on Ream. -------------------------------------------- She sat in her playpen in his office that normally smelled of mahogany and bourbon, but now carried the sweet, lingering scent of baby powder. Jess needed a change, but would need to wait on her friend Morgan for that. Mr. Franklin was old-fashioned and thought it improper to have an intimate connection with an employee. But he was into weird shit. That was undeniable. After the audit exposed her embezzlement, Jess tried to blackmail her boss with the weird diaper shit she found on his computer, but the older man surprised her with a proposal. That’s how Jess found herself doing office work in pull-ups and sucking on a pacifier. For weeks, they were pleased with the arrangement. Then both wanted more. For an extra $3,000, Jess agreed to ask permission before going to the potty and stand in the corner for any sub-par work. For $3,000 more, she stopped wearing pants altogether and occasionally had ‘accidents’ earning herself a few sad faces on her new potty-training chart. It was weird, but had effectively doubled her salary. Diapers were the next obvious step, but Jess struggled with diapering herself and recommended her friend for the new part-time assistant role. That role quickly grew to full-time nanny status until the blonde’s job description consisted only of filling diapers and looking cute, for which Jess had received a bonus in her latest performance review. Mr. Franklin looked at his pigtailed and pacified manager and she smiled and waved from her playpen. Today was Morgan’s quarterly evaluation and she was late. Again. Overhearing the woman’s financial troubles, Mr. Franklin wondered what it might be like to have two adorable playthings at his office and made a note to hire a contractor for the new office nursery and find a new assistant. -------------------------------------------- Get instant access to most of my stories with new exclusive chapters every week and at least three new stories each month on Ream.

Rachel Meets Baby Jason Jason's heart raced as he heard the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. He was trapped, a prisoner in his own home. Or, more accurately, a baby in a highchair. The chair's plastic tray was smeared with a concoction that looked suspiciously like pureed peas, and a bib with cartoon animals stared back at him from his chest. This was his punishment for stealing diapers from his baby cousin's stash, a punishment devised by his ever-so-clever stepmother, Lisa. He had thought it was a harmless desire, something that he couldn’t not do, something he didn’t understand. But as he sat there, dressed in a frilly onesie with a giant "I'M THE BABY" emblazoned on the front, he realized the error of his ways. The clacking of high heels grew louder as Lisa's friend approached the room, but it sounded like she wasn’t alone. "Surprise!" she exclaimed, her eyes gleaming with amusement as she took in the scene. "Oh, Jason, you look so... adorable!" The woman, Rachel, was tall and slender, with auburn hair that fell in waves around her shoulders. She had an air of confidence about her that Jason found both intimidating and alluring. Rachel leaned down, her nose wrinkling slightly at the smell of baby food. "What's the occasion for the little getup?" Lisa, her arms folded across her chest, beamed with pride at her handiwork. "It's all part of his punishment," she explained, gesturing to the bowl of mashed peas. "If he's going to act like a baby, he's going to be treated like one. Isn't that right, sweetie?" She patted Jason's head, her voice sticky with forced affection. Rachel's eyes widened, and she struggled to suppress a laugh. Jason felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment as Rachel studied him. "Mommy says I have to stay like this until I learn my lesson," he mumbled, his voice muffled by the pacifier that filled his mouth. Rachel's laughter finally bubbled over, and she clapped her hands together. "Oh, this is too much," she gasped, wiping a tear from her eye. "What did you do to deserve this?" Lisa stepped closer to Rachel, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "He stole diapers from his little cousin," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Rachel's laughter grew louder, and she had to lean against the wall for support. "Stealing diapers?" she managed to choke out between giggles. "What on earth for?" Jason's face was now the color of a ripe tomato. He desperately wished he could shrink down to the size of the plastic spoon that rested in the bowl of peas. Lisa egged him on, her hand playfully poking his side. "Go on, tell Rachel why you wanted to try on your cousin's diapers," she said, her tone a mix of mockery and challenge. Jason looked at her pleadingly, his eyes wide with mortification. The last thing he wanted to do was confess his strange curiosity to Rachel, who was now staring at him with a mix of amusement and bewilderment. With a heavy sigh, he mumbled his answer around the pacifier. Rachel leaned in closer to hear, her curiosity piqued. "What's that?" she asked, a smirk playing on her lips. "Speak up, baby," Lisa said, her eyes gleaming. Jason swallowed hard, then took a deep breath and spat out the words. "I... I wanted to see what it felt like," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. Rachel's laughter grew even louder, and she had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from bursting out. Lisa, however, remained unfazed, her smile never faltering. "Oh, you poor little thing," she cooed, stroking his cheek. "You wanted to be a baby so badly, didn't you?" The tears that had been threatening to spill over finally rolled down Jason's cheeks, and Rachel had to look away to keep from laughing in his face. "Don't worry, baby boy," Lisa continued, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "We're going to make sure you get exactly what you wanted." Rachel nodded in agreement, still giggling. Feeling utterly humiliated, Jason's eyes darted around the room, searching for a way out. But with his limbs secured in the highchair and his mouth filled with the bulky pacifier, he was utterly at their mercy. He knew that any protests or pleas for leniency would only fuel their amusement. So he sat there, his body tense and his mind racing, trying to think of a way to escape this nightmare. "Rachel, why don't you help me give our little baby boy his bottle?" Lisa suggested, holding out a bottle filled with a murky liquid. Rachel took it with a wink, her laughter subsiding to a series of snickers. "But of course," she said, twisting the cap off with a flourish. "Come on, little one, let's see if you can handle this." She approached the highchair, holding the bottle to his lips. Jason clamped his mouth shut around the pacifier, his eyes flashing with defiance. Rachel raised an eyebrow at Lisa, who simply shrugged and said, "Sometimes babies need a little encouragement." Before he could protest, Rachel's finger found the pacifier's strap and yanked it from his mouth. He opened his mouth to argue, but she was too quick. The bottle's rubber nipple was pushed between his teeth, and he had no choice but to take a sip. The taste was sweet and thick, and he realized with horror that it was chocolate milk - his favorite, but now a tool of his torment. Rachel used her friend hand to admire his onesie and bib. "Aw, is baby not happy with his outfit?" Rachel teased, her eyes sparkling as she reached over to poke at his diaper. Jason's cheeks burned even hotter as Rachel's fingers danced over the buttons that held the garment in place. "Let's see what kind of diaper our little man has on, shall we?" Rachel's voice was playful, but Jason could hear the hint of challenge in it. He squirmed in the chair, trying to push her hands away, but she was stronger than he expected. With surprising dexterity, Rachel unbuttoned the onesie, revealing the bulky, babyish diaper that swelled beneath it. "Oh, my goodness," Rachel exclaimed, her eyes widening. "It's not just any diaper, it looks like an oversized Pampers!" Rachel couldn't believe it. The diaper was indeed a massive version of the kind babies wore, complete with the same blue and white branding. "It's like they took a baby diaper and stretched it to fit an adult," she said, her voice filled with wonder. Jason's mortification grew with each passing second as Rachel inspected his diaper, poking and prodding it as if he weren't even there. "It's so... thick," she mused, her voice filled with mirth. "Let's check if it's wet," Lisa suggested with a wink, reaching down to give the diaper a firm pat. Jason's face turned scarlet with humiliation, his body stiffening in the chair. Rachel couldn't resist the urge to join in, her hand also landing on the bulky padding. "He’s dry," she announced with a giggle. "For now," she added, her eyes meeting Jason's in a teasing gaze. The implication was clear; they had every intention of seeing the diaper in action. While Jason continued to suckle on his bottle, Rachel's questions came rapid-fire. "How did this all start?" she asked, her eyes dancing with amusement as she watched him. “You caught him redhanded and then what?” Lisa leaned back against the kitchen counter, her own laughter subsiding to a warm smile. "Well," she began, "I caught him sneaking into his cousin's room. He swore it was just one time, lying to me, because when we got home, I found that he had a whole stash of diapers hidden under his bed." Rachel's eyebrows shot up. "He's been acting out like this for a while, so I figured it was time to give him a taste of his own medicine." "So you just... decided to start treating him like a baby?" Rachel inquired, her voice a mix of incredulity and fascination. "Exactly," Lisa replied, nodding sagely. "He's always wanted to wear them, so I figured, why not let him experience the full package?" Rachel couldn't help but chuckle at the pun, her eyes never leaving Jason's red, teary-eyed face. "What kind of things do you make him do?" she asked, her curiosity growing by the second. Lisa launched into a detailed description of Jason's new regime, her voice filled with pride. "Well, it started with the basics," she said, ticking off the items on her fingers. "He wears diapers 24/7, of course. And we have a strict feeding schedule, mostly baby food and formula." Rachel nodded, her eyes wide as she listened to the extent of Jason's punishment. "But it's not all about the food," Lisa continued. "I started with getting him a diaper bag, he was being a brat at the store about it so I got him a carseat as well.” “Oh my!” Rachel giggled. “A diaper bag, car seat and this highchair… what’s next, a crib?” She laughed some more. “Oh, we have a whole nursery set up for him," Rachel leaned in closer, eager to hear more. “The changing table is necessary for his diaper changes and you should see how cute he is sleeping in his crib.” “What?!” Rachel was flabbergasted “I can’t wait to see it!” "And what about... other baby-related activities?" Rachel's voice was low, her gaze flicking to the bulging diaper and back up to Lisa's face. "Oh, yes," Lisa said with a wink. "Naptime is mandatory. And if he has an accident, well, that's what the diapers are for and for Mommy to change." She paused, watching Rachel's reaction. "But the best part is the little games we play to help him understand his new role. Like peekaboo, and playing with baby toys." Rachel couldn't help but chuckle at the mental image of Jason, a grown man, playing with rattles and teether rings. "So, does he actually use them?" Rachel's eyes sparkled with mischief as she asked the question. "Use them?" Jason's eyes grew wide with horror, realizing what she was getting at. "You mean, like, his diapers and does he go in them?" Rachel nodded, her expression a mix of shock and excitement. "Of course," Lisa said with a smug smile. "It's all part of the experience." Rachel looked at Jason, then back at Lisa. "Does that mean..." Rachel trailed off, her voice filled with anticipation. "Yes," Lisa said, her smile widening. "If baby Jason needs to go potty, he goes in his diaper, just like a real baby." Jason's face contorted in a silent scream as Rachel's eyes lit up. "So, when does he get a diaper change?" Rachel's voice was filled with genuine curiosity. "Whenever he wets or soils himself," Lisa replied, her tone matter-of-fact. Rachel's eyebrows shot up once again. "And you actually change him?" she asked, her voice a mix of incredulity and amusement. “like, you said you did, but what about…” "Of course," Lisa said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "It's all part of the punishment. And let me tell you, it's quite a sight to see him squirm and whine while I clean him up like a little baby." Rachel leaned in closer, her eyes still wide. "Can I watch?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. In that moment, Jason felt a strange warmth spread across his lower body, the realization of his predicament finally sinking in. He had never actually worn a diaper before he spent a few weeks building up his stash, and the sensation was overwhelming. He had always been curious, but now that he was in the thick of it, the reality was much more humiliating than he had ever imagined. The plastic tray of the highchair was sticky with the remnants of his earlier "meal," and the smell of baby food lingered in the air, a constant reminder of his new status in the house. With a dramatic flourish, Lisa unbuckled the highchair's restraints and lifted Jason into the air. "Time for a diaper check," she said in a high-pitched baby voice, causing Rachel to giggle. He kicked his legs in protest, but Lisa held him firmly, her arms strong from years of dealing with unruly toddlers. "Looks like someone had an accident," she said, her voice dripping with fake concern. Rachel gasped in feigned surprise, her eyes never leaving the bulging diaper. "Oh no, baby Jason," she cooed. "It's time for a fresh diaper!" As Rachel watched, Lisa carried him down the hallway to his bedroom, which had been transformed into a nursery. The walls were adorned with babyish cartoons, and a large crib with bars took up most of the space. Rachel followed closely behind, her eyes taking in the sight of Jason's humiliation. The room was equipped with a changing table, complete with baby wipes, powder, and an assortment of colorful diapers. Rachel couldn't believe that this was happening, that she was about to witness a grown man being changed like a baby. Lisa laid Jason down on the changing table, his legs still kicking in protest. She made a tsk-tsk sound as she began to untape the soggy diaper. "Now, now, baby boy," she scolded. "You need to hold still for Mommy." Rachel leaned against the crib, her eyes glued to the spectacle. Jason's face was beet-red with embarrassment as his stepmom's friend watched him being exposed in such a degrading manner. Rachel couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity, but the novelty and absurdity of the situation quickly overwhelmed any empathy. "Wow, Lisa," Rachel said, her voice filled with awe as she scanned the nursery. "You really went all out." She picked up a bottle of diaper rash cream from the changing table and read the label aloud. "For delicate baby skin. I can't imagine what you'd need this for." Rachel's laughter was light and airy, bouncing off the pastel walls. Lisa smiled, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction as she pulled out a pack of oversized baby wipes. "These are for when he's extra messy," she explained, her voice filled with the same playfulness that had been present since Rachel's arrival. Rachel's gaze took in the crib, the mobile hanging above it playing a lullaby, and the plush toys scattered on the floor. "It's like you had him a baby shower and got most things you need," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. A wicked glint appeared in Lisa's eyes. "You know," she said, her tone growing more serious, "that's not a bad idea." Rachel's eyes lit up, catching on to her friend's train of thought. "A baby shower," Rachel murmured, a smirk playing on her lips as she picked up a pastel blue streamer. "For baby Jason." "Exactly!" Lisa clapped her hands together. "We can invite all of our friends over, and they can see for themselves what a little stinker he's been." Rachel nodded, her mind racing with possibilities. "We'll have games," Lisa continued, her voice rising with excitement. "Like pin the tail on the donkey, but with a twist - pin the diaper on the baby!" Rachel couldn't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation growing more apparent. They spent the next few minutes brainstorming, their voices bouncing off the nursery walls. "We could have a guess-how-many-pacifiers guessing game," Rachel suggested, holding up a jar filled with something unidentifiable. "Or better yet, a diaper-changing relay!" Lisa's laugh was like a peal of bells, her eyes shining with mischief. "Oh, and don't forget the baby food taste test," she added. Rachel nodded eagerly, her mind racing with the delicious prospect of watching Jason squirm. "But the pièce de résistance," Lisa said, her eyes gleaming, "will be the grand finale." Rachel leaned in, eager to hear the details. "We'll have a baby beauty pageant," she announced. "With Jason as the star contestant." Rachel gasped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle another laugh. "He'll have to strut his stuff in the most ridiculous baby outfits we can find," Lisa went on, her imagination clearly in overdrive. "And the grand finale?" Rachel prompted. "The grand finale," Lisa said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "will be the honor baby Jason smashing his birthday cake in front of all of the guests!" Rachel's laughter echoed through the room as the two women shared a look of pure delight. The idea was absurd, humiliating, and absolutely perfect for teaching Jason a lesson he'd never forget. But as they continued to plan the ultimate baby shower-themed punishment, Jason lay on the changing table, his diaper open and his dignity in tatters. He knew that no matter how much he protested or begged, there was no escaping this new reality. The high-pitched giggles of Rachel and the smug satisfaction of Lisa were the only sounds that filled his world, a constant reminder that he was now, for all intents and purposes, their baby to care for - and to torment - as they saw fit. And as they chattered away, discussing the most embarrassing possible scenarios for his upcoming shower, Jason couldn't help but whimper softly, his eyes wide with shock. "Ah, ah, ah," Lisa scolded, her voice still playfully sweet. "What's the matter, baby? Can't handle the excitement?" Rachel stepped closer, her hand reaching out to stroke his cheek. "Maybe you need your pacifier back," she suggested, her smile filled with mock concern. Before he could even try to protest, Rachel's nimble fingers had plucked the pacifier from the nearby shelf, popping it into his mouth. The rubbery object filled his mouth, muffling any sound he might make, leaving him looking even more like the baby they had turned him into. With the two of them standing over him, Jason felt utterly powerless, his body exposed and vulnerable. Rachel took one of the oversized baby wipes from the package and began to gently wipe his skin clean, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the humiliating situation. "Look at baby Jason," Rachel cooed, her voice filled with forced innocence. "Isn't he just the cutest little thing?" Lisa cooed, snapping a photo with her phone, which she had propped up against the wall. The flash went off, blinding Jason momentarily and capturing his embarrassment for eternity. "Peekaboo!" Rachel said, playfully covering her face with a wipe before peeking out again. "Where's baby Jason?" She leaned over him, her eyes sparkling with mirth as she slowly removed the dirty diaper. The cold air of the room hit his bare skin, making him shiver. Rachel leaned in closer, her eyes locked on his. "There you are!" she exclaimed, her voice high-pitched and babyish. Despite his mortification, Jason couldn't help but feel a strange sense of submission to the role they had cast him in. Lisa chuckled from the corner of the room, watching the scene unfold. She picked up a jar of baby powder and began to shake it over him, the fine white dust cascading down like a gentle snowfall. Rachel giggled as she helped to spread it over his skin, the two of them working in unison like a pair of twisted nurses attending to a very unwilling patient. The feeling of the powder against his skin was foreign and uncomfortable, but Jason found himself oddly aroused by the sensation. He couldn't believe that something so degrading could stir feelings of excitement within him. As Rachel continued to clean him up, Jason's mind raced with thoughts of his friends finding out about his new role. The very idea of their reactions was enough to make him cringe, and yet, a part of him felt a strange thrill at the thought of being the center of attention. The diaper change was thorough, with Rachel paying special attention to every crevice and fold, her touch lingering in places it shouldn't. Despite his best efforts to think of something, anything else, Jason felt his body betray him as he began to grow hard. He squirmed under Rachel's gaze, trying to hide his growing arousal with a look of feigned indifference. Rachel's eyes danced with amusement as she noticed his discomfort. "Someone's a little excited, aren't they?" she teased, her voice sugary sweet. Lisa looked over from her spot by the door, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. "You'd better not be enjoying this," she scolded, but the glint in her eye suggested she knew full well that he was. The idea came to Rachel like a bolt of lightning. "Hey, Lisa," she said, her voice filled with excitement. "Wouldn't it be hilarious if we had him do, you know, other… baby things?" Lisa was a bit surprised by Rachel’s vague suggestion, “What do you mean?” “Well,” Rachel said, a bit flustered, “do you ever bounce him on your knee, like, you know, when he’s ‘excited’?” Lisa's eyes lit up with understanding. "Oh, Rachel," she said, shaking her head. "You're a genius." She turned to Jason, her smile wicked. "You like being a baby so much, huh?" She leaned closer to him, her voice a sweet, syrupy whisper. "Why don't you sit on Rachel's lap and bounce like a good little boy?" Jason's face grew hot with a mix of anger and arousal. Rachel looked at him with a mischievous grin, her eyes gleaming with excitement. He knew she could see the bulge in his diaper, and the thought of her knowing his secret filled him with a strange mix of dread and pleasure. Rachel sat down in the rocking chair that had been placed in the corner of the nursery, her arms outstretched. "Come on, baby," she cooed. "Bounce on Aunt Rachel's knee." Reluctantly, Jason climbed off the changing table, the diaper still gaping open. He shuffled over to Rachel, his legs awkwardly trying to walk in the bulky garment. Rachel took his arms and pulled him down onto her knee, his legs straddling her thigh. He could feel the heat from her body through the thick padding of his diaper, and it only made his situation more unbearable. Rachel began to bounce him gently, her movements sending shockwaves through his body. His cheeks burned with embarrassment, but his body responded in ways he couldn't control. Lisa circled around them, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she watched Rachel's teasing. "Looks like baby Jason loves his fresh diaper," she cooed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Rachel nodded, her smile widening. "Yes, he's such a good boy," Rachel said, her eyes never leaving Jason's. "Aren't you, baby?" Jason's eyes darted to the floor, unable to meet their gazes. The pacifier bobbed in his mouth as he nodded slightly. "You're not even fighting it," Rachel pointed out, her voice filled with delight. "It's like you really want to be a baby." Lisa stepped closer, her hands on her hips. "Is that true, Jason?" she asked, her voice a syrupy sweet taunt. "Do you love wearing diapers?" Rachel's gentle bounces grew a little more exaggerated, and Jason felt his cheeks burn even hotter. He tried to shake his head, but Rachel's firm grip on his arms kept him in place as he went up and down. "Wa wa," he mumbled, the words barely audible through the pacifier. Rachel's eyes lit up. "Does that mean no?" she asked, her voice a playful sing-song. "Or maybe it means yes?" She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. "Say it," she whispered. "Tell us you love your diapers." Lisa watched with a smirk, her arms folded over her chest. "Come on, Jason," she coaxed, her voice a blend of mock sweetness and firm authority. "Use your baby voice. Tell us how much you enjoy being in diapers." Rachel's grip tightened, her bounces becoming more deliberate, sending Jason's body jolting up and down. The pressure on his crotch was unbearable, and the humiliation was almost too much to take. Jason whimpered, his eyes squeezed shut. Rachel leaned in, her voice a gentle whisper in his ear. "Say it, baby," she urged. "Tell us how much you love your diaper." He felt his face scrunch up, his cheeks burning as he tried to resist the urge to give in. But the feeling was too intense, his body betraying him. With a pathetic, muffled "wa wa," he nodded again. Rachel's eyes widened with victory, and she squealed with delight. "Did you hear that, Lisa?" Rachel exclaimed. "He loves his diapers!" Lisa's smile grew even wider as she stepped closer, her hand reaching out to pat his head. "Good boy," she said, her voice dripping with condescension. Rachel's bouncing grew more vigorous, her laughter filling the room as Jason squirmed in her grasp. He felt his body reacting more than ever before, and the realization of his own enjoyment only served to increase his humiliation. "Look how much he loves it," Rachel said, her voice filled with a strange mix of pity and excitement. "It's like he's in baby heaven." She leaned back in the chair, her eyes locked on Jason's, watching his reaction as she continued to bounce him. His eyes grew glassy, his breath hitching as he tried to hold back his own moans of pleasure. Rachel's grip on him tightened, her fingers digging into his thighs as she rocked him faster and faster. "Say it again," she urged. "Tell us how much you love being our little baby." Jason's cheeks were scarlet, his eyes pleading for them to stop. But Rachel's playful taunts were too much to resist. He opened his mouth, the pacifier slipping out slightly. "I love diapers," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. Rachel's laughter grew louder, her grip on him tightening even further. "Say it louder," she encouraged, her eyes sparkling. "Let everyone hear you." With a tremble in his voice, Jason repeated his confession, this time with more conviction. "I love diapers! I love being a baby!" Rachel squealed with joy, her hands clapping together as if he had said the most adorable thing she had ever heard. "Oh, baby Jason," she cooed, her voice filled with mock affection. "You're such a good boy for telling us." Lisa stepped closer, her hand reaching out to stroke his cheek. "See, Rachel," she said with a knowing smile. "I told you he'd come around." Her words had barely left her mouth when Jason felt it - the most intense wave of pleasure he had ever experienced. His body spasmed in Rachel's arms, his eyes squeezed shut as the orgasm ripped through him. Rachel's eyes went wide, her bouncing coming to a sudden halt as she realized what was happening. "Oh my god," she whispered, her voice a mix of shock and awe. "He's actually coming in his diaper." Lisa's laugh grew even louder, a wicked cackle that seemed to echo through the nursery. "See?" she exclaimed, her hand coming down to give Jason's diaper-covered bottom a playful smack. "I told you he'd “come” around." Rachel couldn't believe her eyes as she watched Jason's body shudder with pleasure. She had never seen anything quite so absurd - or arousing - in all her life. Her own thoughts were racing, trying to ignore the sudden warmth that had pooled between her legs. Rachel felt a bead of sweat trickle down her neck as she held him, his body still quivering from the climax she had unwittingly induced. She knew it was wrong to find this situation exciting, but something about the power dynamics, the sheer absurdity of it all, was turning her on more than she cared to admit. Rachel's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, a strange cocktail of arousal and pity. But before she could process the implications of what had just happened, Lisa's voice cut through the air, her laughter subsiding into a knowing chuckle. "Well, Rachel," she said, patting Jason's diapered bottom with a firm hand, "it seems like you're a natural at this." Rachel felt a blush creep up her neck, her eyes darting to meet Lisa's, which were gleaming with amusement. "Why don't you go grab him a bottle?" she suggested, nodding toward the plastic playpen that held an assortment of baby paraphernalia. "It's almost naptime, and baby Jason needs his milk." Rachel took a moment to compose herself before rising from the rocking chair, her legs feeling a bit wobbly. She walked over to the playpen and picked out a bottle with a cartoon character on the front, her hands shaking slightly as she unscrewed the top and filled it with formula. She knew that the sight of him drinking from a bottle would be almost too much to handle, but she was committed to this twisted game. "Here you go, baby Jason," Rachel said with a smirk, handing him the bottle. Jason's face was still flushed from his orgasm, his eyes wide with a mix of pleasure and embarrassment. Rachel watched as he took the bottle, his mouth forming an 'o' around the rubbery nipple. He took a tentative sip, the formula cool against his parched throat. Rachel and Lisa both giggled as they watched him, feeling a strange sense of power as they reduced him to this helpless, baby-like state. As the minutes ticked by, Jason's eyes grew heavy. The warmth of Rachel's body, the gentle sway of her movements, and the comfort of the pacifier in his mouth all lulled him into a doze. Rachel felt his body go slack against hers, the bottle slipping from his grasp. She glanced over at Lisa, who nodded with a knowing smile. They had done it. They had broken him. Rachel felt a strange sense of pride at the sight of him, so utterly dependent on them, so thoroughly humiliated. They carefully stood up, Jason's limp form still straddling Rachel's leg. His eyelids fluttered open briefly before closing again, his breathing even and deep. "Let's put baby to bed," Lisa whispered, her voice filled with satisfaction. Rachel nodded, her heart racing with excitement. They had won. They walked over to the crib, Rachel supporting him under his arms while Lisa patted his diapered bottom to encourage him to wake up enough to climb in. "Come on, baby boy," she cooed, her voice a sweet symphony of mockery. "It's time for your nap in your crib." With a sleepy groan, Jason opened his eyes and took in the sight of the bars being pulled up around him. Rachel watched with a mix of fascination and revulsion as Lisa tucked him in, pulling the blankets up to his chin and placing the pacifier back between his lips. He looked so small, so helpless, swaddled in the crib. Rachel felt a strange thrill at the power they held over him, the ability to reduce him to this state with nothing more than a few well-placed words and a bit of embarrassment. "So," Rachel said, her voice low and conspiratorial as they stepped out of the nursery. "Are you actually serious about the baby shower?" Lisa's eyes gleamed with mischief as she leaned against the door frame, watching Jason's chest rise and fall with the rhythm of his baby-like snores. "As a heart attack," she said with a wink. "It'll be the talk of the town." Rachel's laughter bubbled up, a delightful sound that filled the hallway. "Oh, the looks on everyone's faces when they see him like the baby he truly is." She gestured towards the crib with the diapered prize inside. The two women stepped into the living room, leaving the door to the nursery open a crack so they could still hear his muffled noises. "But seriously," Rachel said, her voice dropping to a whisper, "you're not just going to keep him like this forever, right?" Lisa's smile didn't waver. "Well, not forever," she conceded. "But for as long as he needs to learn his lesson." Rachel nodded, a wicked grin playing on her lips. "And it's not like it's all bad," she added, her eyes glancing towards the crib again. "It's kind of... fun." "Let's get planning, then." Rachel mischievously smiled.

Sinopse: Em um mundo de híbridos peludos, Jane, que é uma híbrida de corça, se torna uma estudante de intercâmbio em um país estrangeiro e começa um estágio em um jardim botânico. Infelizmente, porém, sua chefe, uma híbrida de leoa chamada Catharina, aparentemente tinha muito contra sua mais nova funcionária, tratando-a mal e sempre a perseguindo. No entanto, aos poucos, Jane percebe que essa perseguição e parte desse tratamento resultaram em um rumo possessivo e maternal. E para piorar a situação, a descoberta de seus segredos a coloca em um caminho praticamente sem volta. Capítulo 1: Prólogo Bom, eu nunca quis ser assim. Mas nós não escolhemos nossos desejos interiores, certo? De qualquer forma, começou na infância, mais especificamente com... É um pouco constrangedor, mas o que não é constrangedor para nós, quando falamos sobre esse assunto? Eu gostava de palmadas. Testemunhar, na verdade. Uma parte de mim queria receber algumas, mas só de pensar nos meus pais fazendo isso comigo, eu automaticamente descartei. Não por causa da dor, mas por pura aversão a ser tecnicamente quem faz isso. No fundo, eu queria outra figura, uma maternal ou paterna. E eu nunca gostei da dor de outras pessoas ou fiquei feliz com isso, mas... No fundo, algo dentro de mim estava, hum... Animado? Não sexualmente falando. Não sei quando essa parte sexual de uma pessoa é ativada, mas nunca foi sexual, embora eu sentisse um certo formigamento perto da minha virilha, mas nunca tive vontade de me tocar ou algo assim. Com o tempo, comecei a gostar de histórias ou vídeos de palmadas simulando uma surra parental, fraternal ou de um professor, qualquer figura na hierarquia familiar ou posição que não envolva um parceiro romântico. Depois, descobri o termo spanker, que era o que eu sou: alguém com um desejo ou fetiche relacionado a surras. Alguns gostavam de assistir, outros gostavam de ser o disciplinador, havia aqueles que gostavam de apanhar também e outros que não lembro. Até que me deparei com um tópico sobre o porquê desse desejo poder ser ativado: o toque íntimo do disciplinador e do punido, além da atenção e de um certo "cuidado" por querer colocar aquela pessoa no suposto "caminho certo". Quando li "toque íntimo", eu já tinha me deparado com ABDL, mas não tinha me aprofundado muito nesse tópico nem tinha me concentrado muito nele. Mas o que o toque tem a ver com isso? Bem, eu sempre preferi ver e ler sobre palmadas no bumbum nu, como a mão do disciplinador despia o punido para envergonhá-lo e então tocava seu bumbum depois de começar a palmada. Certo, e o ABDL está relacionado a isso? O toque íntimo, a "posse" do corpo da pessoa e a remoção do seu pudor, não lhe lembra a troca de uma fralda? E então me aprofundei ainda mais no ABDL. Também me deparei com os termos Ageplay e Agere, consegui ver a diferença entre os dois e descartei Ageplay, adotando Agere. Deixar para trás as responsabilidades de adulta, retornar aos hábitos de infância e ser cuidada era um desejo que eu não tinha percebido que tinha até aquele momento. Fiquei surpreso por não ter percebido isso antes. Pois enquanto alguns amavam aniversários, outros não gostavam porque ficavam mais velhos e alguns até diziam que era "um ano a menos de vida". Pensei: "Mais um ano em que as pessoas vão parar de se importar e cuidar de mim." Afinal, durante a infância e a adolescência, você não é livre, você é dependente de alguém e as pessoas se importam com você. Mas e depois disso? Você tem que se defender sozinho nessa vida adulta assustadora. Outras coisas vieram de... Bem, gostar de constrangimento, claro, não com uma pessoa real, como ENF... E omorashi devido a ABDL. Scat era algo que eu não gostava, só relacionado a fraldas. Meu dicionário de desejos - digo desejos porque não os considero fetiches, embora eu me excite, mas nunca a ponto de querer fazer sexo ou me masturbar - cresceu. Mas nunca tentei procurar uma "mamãe" ou um "papai". Eu tentei usar fraldas. Minha menstruação sempre foi intensa, o que me fazia às vezes usar fraldas sem elas amarradas na cintura, mas em uma espécie de absorvente. Pensando que estavam completamente seguros, uma vez sentei na minha cama, tirei a calcinha e fiz xixi na fralda. Para meu espanto, vazou, mas felizmente - não sei como - não manchou minha cama, ou pelo menos minha mãe não mencionou. Minha mãe era outra história. Sempre fui desleixada, procrastinadora e preguiçosa. Muitas vezes eu tinha que ser lembrada de fazer coisas básicas como escovar os dentes ou tomar banho, e às vezes eu era forçada a fazê-las porque eu não queria. E quando se tratava de tarefas domésticas, ela nunca insistiu que eu a ajudasse, mas ela sempre me criticava sobre o estado do meu quarto e das roupas. Obviamente, o fato de ela não exigir mais de mim contribuiu para essas características das quais não me orgulho. E, obviamente, por isso, ela sempre acreditou que eu nunca alcançaria a independência, e ela era frequentemente superprotetora. Fiquei muito surpreso quando, depois de estudar muito e conseguir estudar biologia e botânica ao mesmo tempo, consegui uma bolsa para estudar na Holanda. No país onde eu morava, não era incomum que um adulto continuasse morando com os pais; eles geralmente só vão embora depois do casamento. E eu ainda morava com minha mãe - meus pais eram divorciados e eu não tinha um bom relacionamento com ele - então ela estava extremamente em negação sobre eu ir para outro país. Segundo ela, eu não sabia cuidar de mim e muito mais, mas eu era adulta e tinha a palavra final. Então, relutantemente, ela aceitou e tivemos uma despedida agridoce: uma boa oportunidade, mas eu estava deixando minha velha senhora com minha irmã mais velha. Mas é a vida, certo? Depois daquele incidente com as fraldas, só tive mais dois encontros com elas. Um encontro mais seguro: fraldas geriátricas, que roubei duas vezes da minha mãe, que tinha problemas de bexiga, mas, felizmente, ela conseguiu melhorar. Eu me senti culpada por usá-los, pois eram caros e ela os tinha ganhado da minha tia, mas minha mãe tinha muitos, então minha empolgação voltou rapidamente. Decidi ir ao banheiro, o trauma do vazamento me assombrava... Se eu fizesse bagunça no banheiro, seria mais fácil de limpar. Tentei ficar em pé, agachar e nada. Mesmo com a bexiga cheia, nada saiu. Então sentei no vaso sanitário e finalmente saiu. Não esvaziei tudo, com medo de transbordar, mas foi bom finalmente sentir o calor do recheio. Mas eu ainda estava frustrada por não conseguir usar a fralda sem ter que ir ao banheiro. A segunda vez, quando os problemas de bexiga da minha mãe retornaram, já fazia um tempo. E eu tinha começado um hábito nada saudável de encher minha bexiga com água e ler histórias ABDL com a bexiga cheia. Isso gradualmente me levou a não ter mais minha bexiga de aço e a conseguir segurá-la muito bem quando eu estava prestes a fazer xixi. Assim, tive alguns vazamentos na minha cueca, não a ponto de sujar minhas calças, mas a ponto de me deixar um pouco assustada. E com isso, mesmo em pé, ficou mais fácil ir ao banheiro, mas o medo persistente da primeira vez me fez sentar no vaso novamente e evacuar. Isso, claro, foi no meu país de origem. Quando cheguei na Holanda - ou Países Baixos, como é chamado agora - e tive que enfrentar a difícil adaptação, consegui uma pequena cabana - com a ajuda da bolsa - em uma vila perto do jardim botânico onde eu estava estudando e trabalhando. Então pesquisei em fóruns as melhores fraldas e pull-ups para pessoas como eu, e dicas sobre como trocá-las, e usei ambas com moderação. O estágio foi bom, a barreira da língua foi um obstáculo que consegui superar bem, visto que sou extremamente introvertida, tímida e antissocial, ou seja: se eu não falo e interajo com muitas pessoas, não tenho problemas. Às vezes também gosto de brincar comigo mesmo, dizendo que eu era como um bebê tentando aprender a falar minha língua pela primeira vez. Mas nem tudo eram flores, ironicamente para um botânico. Minha chefe, neta do atual administrador do jardim botânico, foi extremamente desagradável comigo. Sempre me supervisionando, me criticando, fazendo piadas incômodas e exigindo muito mais do que meu estágio exigia. Eu estava agora no herbário, analisando uma Belladonna, quando senti uma presença. Suspirei, pensando que era Wilhelmina, mas na verdade era Benjamin, outro estrangeiro que também ganhou uma bolsa de estudos como eu. Virei-me e sorri para ele, ainda tímida, mesmo sendo amigas. Quer dizer... Colegas, já que amigos é uma palavra forte, mas ele sempre tentou superar essa barreira e construir uma amizade comigo. Eu não tinha objeções, mas minha ansiedade social e transtorno bipolar diagnosticado me impediram. Meu humor era volátil e eu era péssimo em interagir com outras pessoas. "Ei Jane, que tal um filme depois do estágio?" Ele perguntou, se aproximando. "Bem... Eu... Hum... Talvez, e..." "Ela não pode." A frase foi dita, e nos voltamos para quem a disse. Catarina Ela se aproximou de nós com sua aura dominante, deixando Ben, o híbrido de urso marrom, desconfortável, tendo que dar passos para trás e ajustar sua postura. Eu apenas desviei o olhar... "Ela estará ocupada. Dei a ela um trabalho para pesquisar e isso levará muito tempo", ela disse. Mas era mentira! Ela não me deu nada. Benjamin assentiu e, com uma despedida cordial, saiu. As palavras saíram da minha boca antes que eu pudesse pensar duas vezes. "Você não me deu trabalho nenhum." Ela se aproximou lentamente, como uma leoa prestes a atacar sua presa. E era extremamente irônico, considerando que ela realmente é uma híbrida de leoa, com suas orelhas e cauda longas. Ela me cercou e minhas orelhas de corça abaixaram em um ato inconsciente de medo. Ela tinha cabelos loiros quase vermelhos, olhos verdes avelã e era alta... Talvez uns 1,70 m? Um rosto retangular, sobrancelhas bem definidas e uma estrutura corporal um pouco gordinha - adjetivo que não vejo como pejorativo - como a Monica Geller de "Friends" quando era adolescente, só que mais magra. E coincidentemente, ela parecia um pouco com a atriz que interpretava essa personagem, e uma mistura de outra atriz que era Sarah Paulson. Ela parou na minha frente e disse casualmente: "Eu sei o que faço. Ele tiraria vantagem de você, como todos os homens." Fiquei confuso. Desde quando ela se importa comigo? E o mais importante: o que ela tem a ver com isso? "Mas eu posso cuidar de mim mesma... E... E..." Eu queria dizer que essa era minha decisão, mas não conseguia falar. Me assustando um pouco, ela me levantou pela cintura e me colocou em cima da mesa. Por um momento, pensei que ela fosse me beijar, afinal, já vi cenas assim em filmes românticos. Mas ela não o fez. "Não. Você não sabe. Você é como uma criança, totalmente desleixada e desajeitada." Se ela não tivesse me comparado a uma criança, o que fez meu lado Agere gritar internamente, eu teria ficado extremamente ofendido, mesmo sabendo que tecnicamente ela tinha razão. "Eu sei o que estou fazendo. Eu sou seu chefe e digo não. Você não irá." "Sua posição na hierarquia não se estende além do estágio." Eu disse, reunindo coragem. E ela riu levemente. "Mas eu posso fazer da sua vida um inferno aqui dentro, está me ouvindo? Se você sair com ele ou com outros, eu vou saber." E então ela foi embora, me fazendo finalmente respirar melhor sem sentir aquela tensão. O pior é que ela estava certa... Ela saberia. Infelizmente, ela morava na mesma vila que eu, em uma cabana muito melhor que a minha, com um terceiro andar que ela usa para observar as estrelas tarde da noite. E se eu chegasse atrasado, ela saberia o que eu fiz, porque o caminho para minha casa passava pela casa dela. Deixei escapar um pouco de xixi da minha calcinha, que escondi bem bem. Ela parecia uma mãe repreendendo e estabelecendo regras para seu filho pequeno. Uma mãe. Ah, merda... Controle-se, Jane!

The sound of a crowing rooster awoke Flower from her slumber. The loud alarm blocked out her specialist “white noise” of her wife being fucked for hours by a pair of male sex worker’s, that Flower herself had hired for Miss B. Flower’s wife, Mistress and sometimes mummy. The grunts of pure effort from the bulls provided a rhythmic beat that mixed, with the high pitched moans of ecstasy from Miss B, Flower was so used to the track playing every night she could detect the moans before they got replaced with excessive slurping. Flower, of course, had not been allowed in the room. Instead, kneeling in her dog cage, outside what was once the master bedroom she had shared with Miss B for the first five years of their marriage. As Miss B was pleasured, Flower just humped her teddy in the cramped space trying to get relief. The irony for Flower was they had tried seeing a marriage counsellor for their deteriorating partnership. For seventeen painful weeks Flower would try to bring up the elephant in the room. While Miss B refused to even allow the conversation to start. After another waste of an hour talking about anything but the cause of their strife it had been Flower who had demanded that Miss B be more authoritative and “to lead” the marriage! Or allow her to see a professional that could allow her to explore the kinks she had longed for. Miss B had promised she would at least try. But by the time they got home Miss B announced she was taking a break from work and was going to see an old friend. Flower had cried herself to sleep alone on the couch. For several more tortuous weeks Flower has called, texted, emailed and used every social media to apologise and for her wife to come back to her. Yet she never got a reply and no one seemed to know where she was until she returned and within an hour Miss B had Flower on a blanket in the living room. As Flower lay unmoving, her brain was unable to process what had happened., but the rest of her body was loving it Miss B entered the house with the crash of the door being slammed closed and the thuds of her bags landing in the hallway. Like the storm following thunder and lightning Miss B marched through the house to a stunned Flower and pinned her against the wall. One hand firmly held her by her brunette locks as Miss B tenderly tilted her head up and kissed Flower with an explosive passion. As Flower felt weak in the knees and melted in her clutches as relief flooded her body. Miss had artfully managed to disrobe Flower without stopping her lips greedily mashing against her lovers. Once she had her prey naked she easily slapped away Flowers' attempts to disrobe her and threw the brunette face down over the arm of the couch. Taking a moment to cup and squeeze Flower’s peachy butt she quickly dropped her tight leggings and totally destroyed Flowers' pussy. Fast, rocket powered trusts smashed deep inside Flowers tight pussy. Yet the dominant woman retained such control and awareness that anytime Flower was close to cumming she instead would slow down and just slowly rocked her hips massaging the head of her rock hard girl cock in the entrance of Flowers' love hole and away from her special spot. Once Flower had cooled off Miss B would then start again fucking like a wild beast taking the naked brunette to the edge of an orgasm! Flower would groan and she babbled nonsense before backing off as Flower tried to get any leverage to push back on the yummy cock pleasuring her. With the patience and self control of a monk she repeated the deep fast fucking and the controled slow teasing the subby girl was soon left a drooling and leaking sissy mess!!! Time stood still but also seemed to accelerate for Flower as she lost all track of herself let alone time. She could remember mewing in need as she felt her bowels fill with Miss B glorious milk. Flower offered no resistance as Miss B effortlessly threw her onto a blanket laid out on the floor. With the first sign of tenderness since her return Miss B gently cradled Flowers' sissy balls, as the sub lay panting and making pitiful moans of . Miss B lovingly massaged her aching orbs. Flower squirmed unable to comprehend the change in her loving wife but she loved the change. Then she felt a sharp pain as the cold from the ice pack was pushed onto her shrinking sissy cock. Miss B held firm as Flower had tried to squirm away. The abuse to her tender nether regions was awful but quickly mixed with her submissive brain’s delight of being used as she had wanted for so many faithful years of love and devotion to her wife. As Flower's brain soaked in its subby juices, her body slumped in surrender to Miss B desires. Her brain was aware of the feeling of her girl cock being squished into the hard plastic shell that would now imprison it. She shivered as the cold and damp cloth was rubbed around her naughty area before the amazing smell of talcum powder filled her nose as the chalky sensation on her skin made her quiver in delight. The crinkle of a diaper made Flower swoon. Her brain could not remember the drunken night some three years before marriage when Flower had admitted her kinkest dreams. She knew she should resist. She is an adult not a little girl unable to control her bladder. But the part shut away for over seven years burst forth. Her now sissy dick twitched in its prison as Flower squirmed in delight as Miss B raised her legs so high she had to arch her back feeling the soft quilt feeling rub on her back. Miss B gently lowered her legs before spreading her knees wide. Flower let out a girly squeak, feeling her legs being spread so wide and exposed. Her caged clitty pushed against the pink plastic as the bulky layers of the as Miss B wrangled the layers of pampers into the right place before delicately pulling each of the seven pampers in place. Each time the crisp ripping sound of the tabs being pulled free and then secured tightly around her tiny waist pushed Flower into their subby and juvenile headspace. Here was when her things went off the script running in Flowers head. Insead of hugs and kisses or the silky feeling of a cute AB dress. She heard the harsh rip of duck tape being pulled free from the roll. Before Flower could figure out what she should or could do she was helpless. Her forearms folded back tight to her biceps as legs bent at the knee and wound in tough duck tape leaving her limbs useless as she wobbled on her back like a stuck tortoise. She felt the tears well up as her brain was in such a state she could only squeak out incomprehensible nonsense. Miss B gave a kiss to each of her cheeks and tenderly rubbed their noses together. The memory was so important she had remembered the odd mix of sadism and loving in Miss B eyes as they paused in awkward silence each unable to to speak. Flower had been doing chores when she overheard weeks later Miss B talking with her ‘old friend’. Her Miss had admitted that if she had tried to speak, she was sure she would have lost her nerve and not continue down the path needed for their marriage to work. Flower silently agreed with Miss B knowing that the hard first few days were so important now. Not that she dared tell Miss B, sissy baby girls should know better than to snoop around when others are on private calls and that is a lesson she didn't want to experience. From that moment Flower knew Miss B loved her and that being Miss B was her way of keeping them together and remained silent allowed Miss B to lift her head and remain dead still as Miss B carefully pulled the tight hood over her face before the cute bonnet was slipped over her head and teased so sat right. The bonnet’s clever design hid the bulb for the inflatable pacifier gag that slipped in her mouth and buckled tight. The hard plastic shield covered her entire mouth as Miss pumped the teat so it filled her mouth. Flower was so distracted by her tongue being pressed to the bottom of her jaw causing her drool to leak out the side of her mouth she paid little heed to Miss B zipping her into a latex bitch suit. It was an expensive item. The lubed latex flowed and pressed down all her bare skin. Flower shook her head, not liking the strange feeling. Looking up with puppy dog eyes she met an evil smile with a glint in her eyes. The look scared Flower a little…. Well scared all except what controlled her locked sissy clit that throbbed and squeezed against its tiny prison. She blushed so hard as she felt the first of many warm sticky dribbles run down her trapped balls before being absorbed by her padded bum. Miss B giggled while taking a picture on her phone while Flower could only squeal in protest. The gag prevented her from protesting further before feeling a weight press down on her as Miss B sat down on her tummyt. Flower looked up as Miss B turned the screen to her captive. Flowers' eyes grew to anime size. She saw how pathetic she looked with the baby pink latex bitchsuit stretched to its limit trying to constrain the pure bulk of the multiple layers of pampers. Above where her prisoned clit was a white locked padlock printed on the baby pink suit leaving all to see clear of her status. Her hard nipples poked from the skin tight latex stretched so taut over her chest that her boobs had been pressed flat with only her rock hard nipples poking up. Drool ran down the sides of her pink hood which had SISSY printed in a fancy script on her forehead with BABIED in the same font on the underside of her bonnet. It was that point that the human formerly known as Sophie broke. It might have been a few hours before Miss B had informed her that she was no longer to be called Sophie and all her ID’s would be changed to Flower. But that was when Flower was born. The hens had come home to roost and she had to lay in the thick diapee’s forcing her thighs wide as they were so bulky she couldn't force her knees to touch. For an hour Miss B had laid with her before she took this weird almost corkscrew looking device. The sound of snaps were heard echoing in the front room as a patch of the latex pulled free. Flower felt the pressure directly against her hole. With little more than a mumble of noise from her behind her gag she was forced to lay back as she felt the pointy end pop through the layers of fluffy absorbent padding before the cold tip of stainless steel touching her butt made her yip in shock. Miss B stopped pushing and spun the device around several times and then unscrewed the steel object out. Flower hadn't realised how toasty the layers and the latex had kept her as cold air brushed her bare skin. Miss B fiddled and pushed something into the hole. She would learn later it was a hard rubber ring that allowed access to her sissy pussy but the design kept the pampers from collapsing inwards. Through that hole Miss B forced a huge plug into her new slaves fuck hole as Flower squirmed and grunted as it felt like a bottle of wine was being shoved into her. With a big effort Miss B popped the thing home and quickly silenced Flowers' moans by pumping the gag to the point Flowers cheeks bulged comically. Only the darkening of a later British summer's skies clued Flower to the passing of time. First Miss B had taken all Flowers 'sexy clothing.’ Her expressive dresses, tops, shorts and skirts were all stuffed into three large charity bags and left out for collection. Then came all her jeans which were thrown in the trash. The power had got to Miss B by that point and she ripped the plug from Flower and pressed on Flowers stubbly legs and fucked her hard. The babied sissy grunted and groaned as Miss B constantly grinded on her little pleasure bean over and over. Her locked cock pushed hard against the unyielding walls of the cage as the pleasurable constraint took over and her sissy cum spurted into her dipee’s. Miss B stopped and replaced the plug which popped in a little easier her own cock hard as she walked back to their room in just her bra. It didn't take long for her to return with a pile of all Flowers underwear and a knife. Straddling her captives chest she rubbed her cock against Flower as she used the knife to slash and tear the pile of undies to shreds. A few times she had to stop to remove the plug and plow Flowers ‘flower’ again and again in a superhuman feat as more and more seed was planted into Flower to spurt out as the plug was forced home with less and less resistant as the first layer of pampers becomes a stick messy making Flower hornier and hornier. In the end she couldn't help but hump the air trying to find any resistance. “Morning sleepy head.” Miss B's sickly sweet voice woke Flower from her daydream and noticed the ‘white noise’ had been stopped, “I spent the morning getting ready and you just layed around. Useless sissy.” Miss B playfully taunted, carefully pulling the sleep hood off . Flower stretched her jaw loose after the gag had forced her mouth open all night. With a flutter of her eyes and a sleepy yawn she slowly blinked awake. “Wow Miss B!!” she squealed as she gawked upon her owner. Her dark hair had been straightened and framed heart-shaped face. Behind the flawless make up her warm smile and enchanting eyes show as she smiled down on her sissy baby. Flower subconsciously licked her lips at Miss B’s newly enhanced boobs that she had worked tirelessly to afford for an early christmas present. Flower had expressed her concern she was taking a little longer with things as of late. She had been a masters level graduate, but it was like her brain refused to get out of first gear. She dreamily stared at Miss’s exposed cleavage through the bars for several minutes unfocused on what her sadistic lover was saying, before she listened to the smart side of her brain and she realised the brunette was decked out as Ms Claus. Even if it's a very sexy one! The red dress clung to her wonderful lithe body and was just long enough not to be scandalous. The white fur trim did nothing to hide Miss B’s glorious cleavage! The thin straps and tight dress suggested she forgot underwear and instead wore just a pair of very expensive designer black tights with embroidered glittery snowflake pattern encasing her beautiful pins. The outfit was completed with her new long boots Flower had worked overtime to get her for her birthday. Flower could feel the wonderful tightness and the sticky warmth between her legs as she could do nothing but stare open mouthed at how once it was a fight for Miss B to be convinced to wear a modest bridesmaid dress. Flower remembered the fittings for Miss B’s siblings' weddings and how both brides and Miss B’s mother were trying to get her to wear a ‘sexier’ dress and convincing her that she could show more bare skin than just her forearms. Now she displayed on the outside she was a goddess completely in control of her own sexuality and body. “My little baby perv.” she grinned that sadistic smile that made Flower quake knowing she would hate and love what was to come next. “When I got this outfit for this afternoon's trip to the mall to see Santa. I asked for a little Miss Claus outfit for my adorable baby sissy. But you would not believe it! They didn't have anything for such a pathetic one like you. So I got this made for you instead.” Flower felt her face go pale as Miss B held up the “outfit”. It was an elf costume that had been sissified but an overzealous AI. The dress looked a size too small with the collar having the traditional triangle pattern, but with the little bells attached to each point. The bodice wasn't velvet or felt, but was a very shiny emerald green satin with little puff sleeves. The skirts were making Flowers tummy churn and her little sissy clitty dribbled the sticky and watery substance she now called her cummies. The skirts were in a velvet to match the collar but laid over a bridal white tutu petticoat jutting the skirt out at a forty five degree angle. The many triangles that made up the hem hung over the edge of the petticoat with the points adorned with a little white and red bow with a tiny design of a sprig of mistletoe in the center of the bow. Each having a little gold bell hanging below it. As if to heap on more humiliation it had a matching green and red hat, fingerless mittens and curled toed elf shoes adorned with more little gold bells. Lastly she showed the candy cane striped tights and the stack of diapee’s laying on the clanging table ready to swaddle her. “It's going to be a very very long day and can't be stopping for you to go pee pee every five minutes or making a scene in the queue for Santa now can we.” Miss B said as if the most normal thing in the world as the hung the items for Flowers future humiliation back up as she couldn't stop herself from letting out a guttural squeak as she flooded her nightly pampers with cummies!

Hi guys! I finally got a Subscribestar. All of my stories are being uploaded there, plus a lot of new content, including in-progress content like Diapered Stepmother, The Regression Act, and Like Mother Like Daughter. Check out my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Chapter One A Shameful Issue Claire Reynolds fumbled with her keys, her hands trembling as she tried to fit the right one into the lock. The sharp clink of metal echoed through the dim hallway, mocking her urgency. Her heart pounded in her chest, and a bead of sweat trickled down her temple despite the cool air. “Come on,” she hissed under her breath, bouncing slightly on her heels. When the key finally slid into place, she shoved the door open and bolted inside, her purse slipping from her shoulder and landing in a heap on the floor. She didn’t stop to pick it up. The bathroom door was just a few steps away, but those few steps felt impossibly long. Her hand gripped the doorknob when it happened. The warm, mortifying sensation began at her thighs and cascaded downward, soaking her gray slacks and forming a humiliating puddle at her feet. Claire froze, her breath hitching in her throat as she stared at the dark stain spreading down her legs. “No,” she whispered, the word catching like a sob in her chest. For a moment, she stood rooted to the spot, the scene unfolding beneath her as though it were happening to someone else. But the sharp smell of urine quickly snapped her back to reality. This wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. Shame washed over her, making her stomach churn. This was the third time this week. Claire leaned against the bathroom door, covering her face with her hands. The knot of anxiety in her chest tightened, and her thoughts spun wildly. What was happening to her? She’d already been to the doctor—no infections, no physical problems, nothing that explained why this kept happening. “Stress,” the doctor had said, his tone infuriatingly casual. “Sometimes your body reacts in unexpected ways. Try to take it easy for a while.” Take it easy? As if Claire Reynolds, Vice President of Marketing at Goldstein & Gray, had time to "take it easy." She had built her entire career by thriving under pressure, outmaneuvering competitors, and crushing challenges. Yet now, standing in a puddle of her own making, she felt utterly powerless. Claire peeled off her wet slacks and underwear, tossing them angrily into the laundry hamper before stepping into the shower. She turned the water as hot as she could stand, hoping the scalding heat might burn away the humiliation clinging to her skin. The bathroom filled with steam, but the knot in her chest remained. Wrapped in a robe, Claire sat on her couch with a glass of wine in her hand. The faint glow of the TV illuminated her face, though her eyes remained unfocused. The news anchor’s voice droned in the background, but she wasn’t paying attention. Her mind was elsewhere, replaying the moment she lost control over and over. Three times in a week. Three times. Maybe it really was stress, she thought, staring into her empty glass. Work had been relentless lately, and the weight of it all was starting to show. Claire barely had time to breathe between managing her team, placating demanding clients, and watching Samantha Drake inch closer to her throne. Samantha. The name alone made her skin prickle. She could see Samantha’s smiling face now, framed by perfectly styled blonde hair, her bright blue eyes practically sparkling with confidence. Samantha was talented, ambitious, and far too likable for Claire’s comfort. People flocked to her naturally, eager to bask in her glow. And Claire? She was the one standing outside her bathroom, soaked to the skin and trying to hold on to her dignity. Her jaw tightened as she set the empty wine glass on the table. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t some fragile mess who couldn’t keep herself together. She was the second most powerful person in the company, and Samantha was nothing but another subordinate. She just needed rest. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be. But deep down, Claire wasn’t so sure. She walked into the office the next morning with a practiced smile that felt like it might crack under the strain. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, echoing through the sleek lobby of Goldstein & Gray. She moved quickly, her steps purposeful, as though the sound alone could drown out her unease. You’ve got this, she told herself. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning, haunted by the humiliating memory of her accident. Now, as she reached her desk, she fought to bury the thought and focus on what mattered: work. Her assistant, Melissa, greeted her with a stack of files and a fresh coffee. “Morning, Ms. Reynolds. Here’s the prep for the Ross presentation at ten.” “Thank you,” Claire said curtly, taking the files without breaking stride. She slipped into her office and closed the door behind her, exhaling slowly. For the next hour, Claire buried herself in spreadsheets and client notes, trying to lose herself in the comforting predictability of data. It almost worked—until there was a knock at her door. “Come in,” she called, not looking up. The door opened, and Claire’s stomach sank when she heard the familiar, cheerful voice. “Good morning, Claire. Got a minute?” Samantha Drake. Claire glanced up, masking her irritation with a tight smile. Samantha stood in the doorway, her tailored navy dress accentuating her polished appearance. She looked every bit the up-and-coming star Claire begrudgingly acknowledged she was. “What can I do for you, Samantha?” Claire asked, keeping her tone neutral. Samantha stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “I just wanted to check in. You’ve seemed… tense lately.” Claire’s smile faltered. “Tense? I’m fine.” Samantha tilted her head, her expression sympathetic in a way that made Claire’s teeth clench. “I know how demanding this job can be. And, well…” She hesitated, feigning concern. “There have been a few murmurs around the office. About you seeming, I don’t know, a little distracted?” “Murmurs?” Claire’s voice sharpened, but Samantha’s calm demeanor didn’t waver. “Nothing major,” Samantha said quickly, holding up her hands. “It’s just that people look up to you, Claire. You’ve set the bar so high, and I think they’re worried about you burning out.” Claire forced a laugh, though it came out brittle. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m perfectly capable of handling my workload.” Samantha nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Of course you are. You’ve always been an inspiration to me.” The words sounded genuine, but Claire couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that there was an edge beneath them. Before Claire could respond, Samantha added, “If you ever need support, though—someone to help lighten the load—I know an excellent assistant who could make things easier for you.” Claire stiffened. “I don’t need help.” “Of course not,” Samantha said smoothly. “But if you change your mind, let me know. It’s important to take care of yourself.” With that, Samantha offered a polite smile and left, leaving Claire alone in her office, simmering. The morning passed in a blur of emails and conference calls, but Samantha’s words lingered like an unwelcome guest. By the time the Ross presentation rolled around, Claire was on edge, her mind racing with a cocktail of frustration and self-doubt. She entered the boardroom, her posture as sharp as ever, and launched into the presentation with the confidence that had made her reputation. But halfway through, as she stood before the team, a sudden wave of pressure in her bladder made her pause. Not now, she thought, gripping the edge of the table. She forced herself to keep going, her voice steady even as her body betrayed her. With every passing second, the pressure grew, and by the time she wrapped up the presentation, she could barely focus on the questions. The moment it ended, she bolted from the room, ignoring the curious glances from her colleagues. She made it to the bathroom just in time, slamming the stall door shut and collapsing onto the toilet. Relief flooded through her, but it was short-lived. The near miss left her shaking, her mind spinning with worst-case scenarios. What if she hadn’t made it? What if she had humiliated herself in front of the entire team? Claire sat there for a long moment, her breathing uneven. This couldn’t keep happening. Back at her desk, Claire stared at her computer screen, her thoughts far from work. The memory of Samantha’s offer gnawed at her. As much as she hated to admit it, the idea of having help—even temporary—sounded less ridiculous than it had that morning. But no. She wouldn’t give Samantha the satisfaction. Still, Claire couldn’t shake the feeling that her grip on control was slipping, one agonizing inch at a time. Chapter Two Enter Linda By the time Claire got home that evening, she was exhausted. The day had been grueling, and the close call during the presentation lingered in her mind like a bad dream. She dropped her keys on the kitchen counter, poured herself a glass of wine, and sank into the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. This couldn’t go on. The memory of Samantha’s offer crept back into her thoughts. Claire clenched her jaw. Asking for help from someone Samantha recommended felt like admitting defeat, but she couldn’t keep living with the constant fear of humiliation. Before she could overthink it, she pulled out her phone and dialed Samantha’s number. “Samantha Drake,” came the cheerful voice on the other end. “It’s Claire,” she said, her tone clipped. “About that assistant you mentioned. Do you have their contact information?” Samantha’s response came almost too quickly. “Of course! Her name is Linda. She’s young, but she’s a natural at organization and discretion. I’ll text you her number.” “Thanks,” Claire said tersely and hung up before Samantha could gloat. The next day, Linda promptly arrived at Claire’s apartment at 9 a.m. Claire opened the door to find a young woman with auburn hair tied in a neat ponytail, bright hazel eyes, and a sunny smile that seemed almost too earnest. Claire thought with a twinge of skepticism that she couldn’t have been older than nineteen. “Hi, Ms. Reynolds! I’m Linda. It’s such an honor to meet you,” she chirped, extending a hand. Claire hesitated before shaking it. “You’re… younger than I expected,” she said bluntly. Linda didn’t miss a beat. “People say that all the time. But I promise, I’m great at what I do. I’ve worked with other executives before, and I’m here to make your life easier.” Claire stepped aside, motioning for Linda to come in. The girl walked in with an eager bounce, her backpack slung over one shoulder. Claire watched her carefully, trying to gauge whether this was a good idea. “So,” Claire said, folding her arms. “Tell me what you can do.” Linda enthusiastically listed her skills: scheduling, task management, meal prepping, and errand running. She even mentioned a knack for helping with “personal matters,” though Claire dismissed that with a wave. After twenty minutes, Claire sighed. Although Linda was extremely young, on paper, she was a perfect solution to her stress. “Fine. Let’s try this out. I’ll give you a week to prove yourself. If I don’t see results, that’s it. Understood?” Linda beamed. “You won’t regret it, Ms. Reynolds!” The first few days were surprisingly smooth. Linda was efficient and unflinchingly polite, handling Claire’s demanding schedule with ease. She organized Claire’s cluttered desk, prepared meals that were waiting when Claire got home, and even started leaving subtle reminders for things Claire might have forgotten. On Linda’s fourth day, she was tidying up Claire’s kitchen when Claire rushed through the door, pale and frazzled. “Out of the way,” Claire muttered, bolting toward the bathroom. Linda watched in surprise as Claire slammed the door behind her. Minutes later, Claire emerged, her face flushed. She was clutching a damp skirt and muttering under her breath. “Everything okay?” Linda asked cautiously. “It’s all fine,” Claire snapped, avoiding Linda’s gaze. Linda didn’t push, but Claire caught the flicker of understanding in her assistant’s eyes. Two nights later, Claire woke up in her wet pajamas. The dark stain on her sheets sent a wave of panic and frustration crashing over her. She began stripping the bed, her hands trembling as she stuffed the soiled sheets into the hamper. She didn’t hear the knock at first. “Ms. Reynolds?” Linda’s voice broke through, hesitant but concerned. Claire froze. Before she could respond, the door creaked open. Linda stepped inside, her eyes widening at the scene: Claire standing in the middle of the room, tear-streaked and clutching damp sheets, her wet pajama bottoms an unmistakable clue. “Oh,” Linda said softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” Claire turned away, her face burning with humiliation. “Just go,” she said sharply. Instead of leaving, Linda stepped closer. “Ms. Reynolds,” she said gently, “it’s okay. Let me help.” “No, it’s not okay!” Claire’s voice cracked. “This isn’t normal! I’m almost a middle-aged woman, I shouldn’t be wetting myself.” Linda stayed calm, her tone soothing. “Stress can do strange things to the body. You’re dealing with so much right now. It’s not your fault.” Claire sank onto the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands. Linda knelt beside her. “Why don’t you change into something dry? I’ll take care of this.” Too exhausted to argue, Claire nodded. The final straw came two days later. Claire had stayed late at work, trying to finish a report, when the now-familiar pressure hit her. She’d been so focused she hadn’t noticed until it was too late. How could this be happening to her? She was a strong, independent woman with a successful career and a bright future. She wasn’t supposed to wet herself like some oversized toddler who wasn’t potty trained yet. In desperation, she rushed back home. When she got to her apartment, she ran past Linda, although her pants were visibly damp. Linda saw it immediately, but said nothing, quietly following Claire. Linda approached her. “Ms. Reynolds, I think we need to talk.” Claire stiffened. “About what?” Linda hesitated. “I noticed… things have been getting harder for you lately. Maybe it’s time to consider something to help.” Claire’s eyes narrowed, though in her current state, she looked more like a little girl pretending to be an adult than the girl-boss she truly was. “Help? Like what?” Linda’s voice was gentle but firm. “Protective undergarments. Just at night or for when you’re working late. It could give you peace of mind.” Claire stared at her, the words hitting her like a blow. “You’re suggesting diapers.” “I’m suggesting something to make your life easier,” Linda said softly. “There’s no shame in it.” Claire shook her head, her pride flaring. “Absolutely not.” “Claire,” Linda said, dropping the formalities, her tone softening but not wavering. “You’ve had three accidents that I know of this week. The one on the way home from work tonight, the one in bed two nights ago, and the one outside the bathroom earlier this week. And this isn’t something new. Is it?” Claire blushed, not knowing how to answer. “Have you gone to the doctor?” Claire nodded, though all her strength had wavered, replaced by a feeling of impotence and shame. “So, what happened?” “The doctor thinks it is just stress. But I’ve always had stress, and it had never led to something like this,” Claire replied, tears falling down her cheeks. “I’m not wearing diapers!” Linda didn’t flinch. “You hired me to make your life easier, didn’t you? That’s all I’m trying to do.” Claire shook her head, her voice trembling with fury. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not some invalid, Linda. I don’t need diapers!” “It doesn’t look like it. Does it?” “I’ll fix it,” Claire said through gritted teeth. “I’ll go back to the doctor. I’ll drink less coffee. I’ll… I’ll figure it out.” “It’s your decision,” Linda continued, “But just think about this…If it happens at work, what do you think will happen? You have a reputation as a strong and powerful woman. Do you think your employees will respect you after they see you standing in your wet trousers and crying like a baby?” Claire didn’t respond. It killed her knowing that Linda was right. If she ignored the problem, it could only lead to public humiliation. But diapers? She wasn’t a baby. She was an adult woman with so many responsibilities. An image of her wearing a diaper as Linda took care of everything came flooding her mind. It made Claire blush as she shook that thought away. “Just think about it,” Linda added. She turned away, leaving Claire alone in her wet pants. That night, Claire lay in bed, her mind racing. She replayed Linda’s words over and over, each one striking a nerve. The worst part was that Linda was right. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi guys, here's one of my latest stories. You can read it now on Amazon Kindle Wife's New Boyfriend Is My New Daddy: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DSR2VKVB or check my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Claire's Regression: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DS2S4FXW You can also read Daisy's Perfect Summer: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DLVJYHH5 Here's a link to The Diary of a Diapered Cuckold: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPFLGMNJ

Emily takes everything for granted, not least her wife. But how bad can a wife possibly act? Well, it turns out, pretty bad. --- Every update I post is available on my Ream and SubscribeStar pages one week before it is posted everywhere else. For $5 you can see everything I post before the rest of the diapered world. For $10 you can see every update early plus EVERY exclusive story I have written. That's 35 stories available ONLY on my subscription pages and nowhere else! I rely on my wonderful subscriber's support to be able to write like I do. Writing is my only income and the money I earn goes to help paying the bills, food and everything else my wife and I need. Everyone's support is HUGELY appreciated, without it I would have to find other work and I wouldn't be able to write nearly as much as I do, maybe at all. So thank you to everyone who checks out my subscriber pages and considers supporting me ❤️ https://reamstories.com/elfy https://subscribestar.adult/elfy --- Regression Therapy By Elfy Emily stretched out horizontally on the couch. The television across the room was on and playing some trashy day time talk show at a loud volume. On the table between Emily and the television were several empty soda cans, chocolate wrappers and empty chip packets. She belched as she picked up her handheld games console and resumed the game. “Emily, could you clean up the table, please.” Amelia asked as she hurried past the doorway. “Meh.” Emily grunted with indifference. Emily didn’t move from the couch. She didn’t look away from the screen she was holding above her and she didn’t really intend on going anywhere unless she absolutely had to. It was a typical day for the twenty-seven-year-old woman, one in which she was so motionless she might as well have been part of the couch. “Did you hear me?” Amelia asked as she walked into the room. “Yeah… I’ll do it later.” Emily lied. Emily heard Amelia sigh with frustration. After a couple of seconds Amelia walked over, bent down and started to pick up the detritus of Emily’s all-day snacking. She made a lot of noise as she did so, making sure that her displeasure was well known. “It would be nice to have some help round here.” Amelia complained as she stood up. “I said I was going to do it later!” Emily rolled her eyes. “Right…” Amelia replied sarcastically, “Just like you were going to take the trash out later.” “I did it, didn’t I?” Emily lowered her game with a frown. “Yeah.” Amelia shook her head, “Two days later, AFTER the trash had been picked up.” Emily grunted and lifted her game again. Amelia walked out of the room muttering darkly. People might’ve been forgiven for assuming that this exchange was between a mother and their difficult teenage daughter, but that wasn’t the case. In truth Emily and Amelia were married, in Emily’s opinion the marriage was a happy one despite some difficulties. Having first met shortly after college Emily had been a very different person at the start of their relationship. She had been born assigned male at birth and was still presenting that way when she met Amelia. It was only a few years into the relationship that she had realised who she really was. It had been a shock for Amelia but she had been great in helping Emily through the changes which followed and their relationship only strengthened helped by the fact they were both bisexual. Emily had now been on hormones for a few years and, by the time they got married, presented female all the time. She hadn’t had “the surgery” and wasn’t sure if she ever would, she felt like she had a lot of time to decide. She was still young; she didn’t see any need to rush anything. Emily had never had a proper full-time job. Amelia had managed to get reasonably highly paid employment in business right out of college whereas Emily had spent more time looking for work and doing the chores at home. It soon became apparent that Amelia’s job could financially support them both so Emily’s job searching became less vigorous. It was eventually decided that she could stay at home as a housewife and do all the chores and cooking, something Emily was more than happy with. For the first couple of years of marriage Emily had held up her end of the bargain. She did a decent job making sure things stayed clean and whilst she wasn’t the best cook in the world she could make some passable meals. That changed when the pandemic hit. Amelia started working from home more often and slowly, over time, she started doing some of the chores. By the time the pandemic was dying down Emily had managed to hand off basically all of her chores on her wife. A situation she was happy to keep up. Emily didn’t see any problem with how everything had developed. Amelia seemed fine working and doing the chores meanwhile she was delighted to be semi-permanently attached to the couch. Even if her wife wasn’t overly happy as long as she didn’t complain Emily wasn’t going to do anything to upset the status quo, as far as she was concerned this lifestyle could go on forever. It was several hours later before Emily was disturbed again. She was still on the couch when Amelia came in to tell her that dinner was ready. Emily could see that she was looking a little flustered but that was nothing unusual these days, she was always rushing around doing one thing or another after all. She always told Amelia she should slow down and relax but for some reason that just seemed to annoy her wife even more. Emily stood up with a groan and after stretching her back started walking through to the dining room. Amelia was already sitting down. Emily sat down and picked up her knife and fork. Without a word to her wife, she started eating but quickly stopped. The meat was slightly overcooked. Emily sighed in disappointment and used her thumb and forefinger to pull the bit of meet out of her mouth and drop it back on to the plate. Amelia hadn’t started eating but she looked up as Emily licked her lips to try and get rid of the taste. “It’s burnt.” Emily said simply. Emily saw her wife’s hands curl around the cutlery until her knuckles were white. She didn’t pay it too much mind though, Amelia often reacted like that when she was criticised. Emily thought it was always good to let her wife know when things weren’t up to standard though, it helped to make sure she didn’t make the same mistakes again. She brought some of the vegetables up to her mouth. “Ugh, you know I don’t like broccoli.” Emily said as she put the fork back down. The table shook slightly and Emily wondered if it wasn’t a small earthquake. When she looked across to her wife, she saw that she seemed to be shaking slightly. Her eyes seemed to pierce through Emily who had no idea what the problem was. Surely it wasn’t an issue to remind Amelia what she didn’t like, it was just helping her in future. Emily carried on with her dinner. She picked up the drink Amelia had made her but absent-mindedly let it slip through her fingers. The glass hit the edge of the table and the liquid inside poured all over the food. Emily let out a groan as she picked up the glass, it was already far too late to save anything. “Ugh, now it’s all ruined.” Emily said before continuing with a mumble, “Not that it was that good to begin with…” There was a sudden clattering of cutlery hitting the table. Emily looked up to see Amelia pushing her chair back, the legs scraping loudly on the linoleum floor. She stood up and stared down at Emily for a second, it looked like she was contemplating saying something as her lips twitched. Finally, she wordlessly turned away and stomped upstairs. “Why is she being so moody?” Emily muttered to herself as she stood up. Pouring the uneaten food into the trash Emily got a frozen pizza out and cooked that instead. Emily didn’t see her wife for the rest of the day, she didn’t go upstairs since she didn’t want Amelia nagging her about stuff but, as evening turned to night, she remained alone on the couch watching television. She ended up falling asleep there and without having her wife waking her up to go to bed she remained on the couch all night. --- “You need to get a job.” Amelia said. Emily was still waking up. Sprawled out across the couch her eyes half-opened as she looked up at Amelia who was already dressed in her business suit. Her make-up was done perfectly and with her hair tied back she looked very austere. “Huh?” Emily grunted sleepily without moving. She could feel a small puddle of drool underneath her cheek. “You need to get a job.” Amelia repeated, “I’m serious.” “But we’re doing fine, aren’t we?” Emily said tiredly. “No. We’re not.” Amelia replied, “You are not the person I married. We agreed that you would do the housework but you do nothing but lay on the couch all day.” “It gets done, doesn’t it?” Emily said as she slowly pushed herself into a sitting position. “By me!” Amelia exclaimed, “Look, I love you but you’re not pulling your weight. I want you looking for jobs whilst I’m at work, OK?” Emily mumbled something and shrugged her shoulders. She hated the idea of working and making a commitment to find a job was the last thing she wanted to do. “OK?” Amelia repeated. “Fine.” Emily rolled her eyes. “Good.” Amelia smiled. It was the first time Emily had seen her smile in some time, “Don’t forget you’ve got therapy this afternoon. I’ll pick you up afterwards, alright?” Emily again remained noncommittal. Amelia leaned down and gave her a kiss on the forehead before picking up her bag and leaving. Emily remained slumped on the couch with a sizable pout. She didn’t want to look for a job, she didn’t want anything to change. Why did Amelia have to mess everything up by telling her to work? Emily opened up the laptop on the table and placed her fingers on the keyboard. She didn’t really know what to do or where to go so she just typed “job search” in a search engine and clicked the first link. She soon became dizzy as she looked through thousands of vacancies from every profession under the sun. It was all so… daunting. After a few minutes Emily gave up. She shut down the browser window feeling stressed out from the small amount of scrolling she had done. Sure, she hadn’t fired off any applications, really searched for relevant careers or even registered with the website but she had scrolled through a couple of pages. That was good enough for a job search in her opinion. With her promise to Amelia fulfilled Emily instead opened up a video game and started playing. The hours flew by as she ignored all her real-world responsibilities in favour of playing games. It was only when her phone vibrated and an alarm went off that she finally looked away from the screen much later in the day. She groaned as she looked at the screen which was lit up with the word “THERAPY” on it. She quickly swiped at the phone to shut it up and let out a sigh. Emily had been going to therapy for some time. It was the first place she had felt comfortable discussing her feelings about being a woman and was also a useful outlet for her other emotions. She wasn’t really sure if she still needed to go but Amelia insisted. The therapist was actually one of Amelia’s old friends from college. There had been some concerns about a conflict of interests but Catherine, the therapist, had always remained totally professional no matter what Emily had told her. With a groan Emily stood up and put her phone in her pocket. She considered skipping the session but she knew Amelia would only moan at her if she did, the same way she did after Emily didn’t go to the last two. Dragging her feet as much as possible Emily got dressed and headed out. It was only a short bus ride to the therapist’s office but it still felt like too far. “Emily, good to see you.” Catherine said as Emily walked through the door of the office. “Hey.” Emily replied as she walked over to the couch. “How have you been?” Catharine asked with a friendly smile. Catherine was a good therapist and despite Emily’s reluctance to make the effort to see her it wasn’t long before she was opening up. For the next fifty minutes Emily talked about her life, most notably how she was frustrated that her wife had demanded she get a job. “You don’t want to work?” Catharine asked. --- Amelia stepped out of her car and walked into the therapist’s building. She smiled and gave a little wave to the receptionist as she walked past. She had been picking Emily up after her appointment every week for a long while so was able to just walk through to the waiting room. There were still a few minutes to go in the appointment so she sat down and looked at the selection of magazines on offer on the table in front of her. “Want to work!? Of course I don’t!” Amelia froze. She looked at the door to Catherine’s office and could see it was open just a tiny amount. Combined with the suddenly raised voice she could hear what was happening. It was Emily and she sounded belligerent. Amelia bit her lip, she knew she was intruding but wasn’t sure what to do. Before she could make a decision, she heard more voices. “But why not?” Catherine asked. “Why would ANYONE want to work when they don’t have to?” Emily asked in response, “God, I don’t know why Amelia has to mess everything up. We’re happy like this!” “Are you both happy with the way things are?” Catherine asked, “Or is it just you who’s happy?” “I haven’t heard Amelia complain.” Emily responded. Amelia’s hands balled into fists. She couldn’t believe she was hearing this from her wife. She had asked for more help around the home or for Emily to get a job more times than she could remember. Was Emily just lying to the therapist or had she outright ignored her all this time? “Look, Amelia does everything and, you know what, I think it makes her happy.” Emily’s voice said, “She likes looking after everything and being in control. She might think she wants me to do more but I think we’re all happier carrying on as normal.” Amelia didn’t know whether to be angry or upset. As the therapist’s room either went quiet or voices were lowered Amelia slumped in her seat. She loved Emily and always had, but she had never felt quite as despondent over the state of their marriage as she did right there and then. She had made it clear, many times over, that she didn’t want to have to do all the work in the relationship. Emily either hadn’t listened or didn’t care, she wasn’t sure which was worse. For the next five minutes Amelia sat in the waiting room staring straight ahead. The longer she waited the angrier she became. In some ways she felt bad, she wasn’t supposed to hear what was said in therapy, but she had and she couldn’t change that. She had genuinely thought she was getting Emily to start picking up the slack again but it seemed that wasn’t happening at all. For the first time she started to think about divorce. “Ah, hello Amelia, nice to see you.” The door had opened and Amelia had been so lost in her own head she hadn’t even noticed. “Oh, Catherine, yes, sorry I was miles away.” Amelia said as she stood up. Amelia noticed Emily was looking quite surly with her shoulders slumped and eyes turned towards the ground. Knowing that she wasn’t supposed to know about what her lazy wife had said Amelia walked forwards and hugged her. She planted a little kiss on her cheek as she always did. “Are we still on for drinks this weekend?” Amelia asked the therapist. “Of course.” Catherine replied with a smile, “I’ll give you a call later, alright?” “Sure thing.” Amelia replied. She walked over and hugged her good friend. “Can we go?” Emily asked rather rudely. Amelia gave Catherine a small smile and then turned to lead the way out of the building with Emily right behind her. She felt like there was tension in the air, in truth there had been tension between them for quite some time. She decided to break the silence once they got down to the car. “How was therapy?” Amelia asked. “Alright.” Emily replied. She had her arms folded across the chest and was looking out the side window. “What did you talk about?” Amelia asked lightly, “Of course, you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.” “Stuff.” Emily grunted in reply. “Suit yourself…” Amelia muttered to herself as she drove out of the car lot and on to the road. If Emily wasn’t interested in conversation, she wasn’t going to force the issue herself. The drive was completely in silence. Amelia was constantly wrestling with what to do about Emily and the knowledge that she had no intention of stepping up to be an equal partner in the relationship. She was desperate to find a way to make their relationship work again, she considered suggesting couples therapy but it was a big enough struggle to get Emily to see Catherine once a week as it was. “I’m going for a nap.” Emily said as soon as they got in the front door a little later, “Call me when dinner is ready.” Amelia sighed through her nose with her lips pursed as her wife when straight up the stairs without even a thank you for picking her up. Of course, Amelia would be expected to cook dinner, even though she had been at work all day and had only just stepped in the house. She kicked off her shoes rather forcefully before stomping through to the kitchen. --- If you enjoyed this and would like to see the next part of the story RIGHT NOW you can do so on my SubscribeStar and Ream pages: https://reamstories.com/page/lpjgftb4y2/story/m1cuafz5dm/chapter/6af1e1c0-cbba-4cfc-981b-37cb05a70f77 https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1508581

Derek was on his way to “The Blooming Nursery” a mechanical potty training facility for children. After their introduction to society they became extremely popular with young parents. Helping relieve them of one task to do when raising a child, potty training. The accidents, yelling and screaming, and sleepless nights were all removed when these facilities were created. Once your child reaches 2-3 years old you can register for an appointment and drop them off for a week. It’s a 5-day program where you drop your kid off every morning before work and pick them up in the afternoon after work, perfect for any parent. The additional plus is it counts as daycare as well so parents flocked to the opportunity quickly. The problem was, these facilities were often booked up for months so once you got confirmed for an appointment you had to jump at the opportunity. That’s where we find Derek. Derek has a rugged, handsome look with a bit of a modern dad vibe. He’s about 6 feet tall, with a fit but not overly muscular build, he keeps active but isn't obsessed with the gym. His dark brown hair is short on the sides and slightly longer on top, often styled casually or a bit tousled. He has a neatly trimmed beard that complements his strong jawline, giving him a mature, masculine appearance. Derek’s eyes are a warm hazel, always carrying a friendly, approachable expression. Derek and his partner Steven have a son named Sam who was just accepted for an appointment at “The Blooming Nursery”. Derek received a phone call that he would have to stop by the nursery to complete the rest of the paperwork so he headed there before his shift at work. Entering the facility he was greeted by a robotic receptionist. “Hello and welcome to The Blooming Nursery. How may I help you this morning?” She asked. Derek replied, “Good morning! My name is Derek Strickland. I'm here to finish registering my son Sam Strickland for the potty training course.” “One moment please let me look your name up in the system.” The robot appeared to be spacing out as it searched its database for the name. “Welcome Sam Strickland to The Blooming Nursery. Are you excited to start your potty training experience?” “I am very excited for him to start potty training. That will be one less thing to worry about for me and my partner.” Derek replied. “Great! Please head through the door to my left to complete registration and begin your experience. It was a pleasure serving you!” The robot maid gestured to her left where an automated door slid open and lights started to glow around it signaling to enter. Derek walked through the door to a long hallway with several doors on both sides. A door towards the end of the hallways on his left opened and lit up similar to one he just entered. “I can’t wait to get this over with so we can finally be done with Sam’s potty training. I’m done changing dirty diapers.” Derek thought as he walked through the hallway towards the door. As Derek entered the room the door slid shut behind him. The room was a small, sterile white room with nothing in it. The floor was padded and the walls looked like stainless steel. Derek stood in the room for a bit alone with his thoughts before he heard what sounded like something sliding open. Then a red laser grid appeared at his feet and began slowly rising to the ceiling. A robotic yet soft voice came from the room. “Welcome Sam to your potty training experience. Please hold still as we scan you to find your correct size.” Derek started to panic, “Excuse me? I’m not Sam, that’s my son, I'm his father Derek. There must be a misunderstanding here.” The voice replied in a gentle, caring tone. “It’s ok Sam. We understand being away from your family can be scary at first. Please hold still as we scan you.” “No you don’t understand! I am not Sam. There’s been a mistake!” Derek started to walk back to where the door was and began pounding on the wall. “Hey! Can anyone hear me! This robot has me confused for my son. I’m not the one that needs potty training!” “CHILD IS MOVING!” the voice alerted. “UNRULY CHILD DETECTED APPLYING RESTRAINING PROTOCOL!” Several robotic arms began to appear from holes in the walls grabbing onto Derek. “Hey! Stop! I’m not a child!” Derek yelled back. Derek fought back as best he could but he was no match for the machine. The mechanical arms restrained his arms and legs in a spread eagle position slightly above the ground. An additional arm was secured on either side of his stomach to prevent him from wiggling. “HEY LET ME GO YOU STUPID F***ING MACHINE!” He yelled “INAPPROPRIATE LANGUAGE DETECTED ADMINISTERING PACIFIER” An arm shot out from the wall and placed a bright blue pacifier in Derek’s mouth securing it behind his head so he couldn’t spit it out. Immediately the pacifier expanded in his mouth filling it up entirely. “MMPFH” Derek shouted from behind the pacifier. Some childish instinct within him activated and he started sucking on the pacifier. At that moment he realized that there was a liquid being secreted from the pacifier down his throat. Derek started to panic and tried to break out of his restraint to no success. The arms let him thrash as much as he wanted for several seconds before Derek started calming down. A huge wave of calm washed over him as he continued to suckle on the pacifier. He stopped fighting and just let the arms hold him in the air. “That’s a good boy. Just relax. The quicker you cooperate the faster we can get your potty training started.” The voice cooed. Once again the laser grid appeared at Derek’s feet and began slowly rising to the ceiling. Derek wanted to fight back but couldn’t. That liquid in the pacifier seemed to be weakening and calming him. Once the laser grid reached the top of the room the voice stated, “Analysis finished. My my, you are a big boy Sam!” Derek cringed at this statement. “Inappropriate attire detected. Sam you’re not ready for big boy undies yet. Let’s get you in more appropriate attire for a kid your age!” The voice said cheerfully. Additional arms started appearing from the walls and approaching Derek. These ones began to strip Derek of his clothes. Starting by untying and removing his shoes. They then began to unbutton and remove his dress shirt and undershirt. His dress pants were unbuttoned and slid off his legs next. Leaving him in his white Calvin Klein tighty-whiteys. “Tsk tsk tsk. A boy like you doesn’t need undies, he needs a diaper!” The voice chimed. The arms then wrapped around the waistband of his underwear and began sliding them down his legs. Derek was powerless to do anything as his last line of protection from the machine was removed. All he could do was suckle on his pacifier and watch in horror. Another red light sweeped over his nether region scanning it. “My my you are awfully hairy down there Sam. We’ll have to deal with that before your next diaper change!” The machine said playfully. “Acquiring correct attire.” The voice stated. “ERROR no correct attire of size 34 found.” Derek breathed a sigh of relief. There’s no way a facility for kids would have clothes, let alone diapers, in his size! A loud ding was heard shortly after the last message. “CREATING PROPER ATTIRE IN SIZE 34” Shock and sadness ran through Derek. The machine could just create clothes in his size? He thought. Within a minute new arms reappeared with several pieces of clothes presented to Derek. A yellow T-shirt that said the message “My Daddy loves me!” denim overalls with snaps at the shoulders, and the last hand had what Derek feared most, a massive white diaper the size for an adult. “Dressing Sam in proper attire.” A changing table slid out of one of the walls big enough to fit an adult. The robotic arms lifted Derek through the air onto the changing table. Derek was laid down on the cold mat and felt his weight sink into the table a little. The arms continued to restrain him as the diaper was unfolded and brought closer to his nether region. The arms holding his legs lifted his feet up so his butt was off the mat and the diaper was slid underneath him. Derek was then lowered on the diaper where he was surprised at how soft it was. Arms came out from the side of the changing table with baby oil and baby powder. The arms began to lather up his nether region with baby oil. The treatment was so thorough that Derek couldn’t help but get hard. As his member continued to grow the hands would add another layer of baby oil to it making sure to cover every inch. Baby Powder was then generously sprinkled over his nether region making sure to lift his butt and get in between his crack as well sliding along his hole as if teasing him. The diaper was then lifted to his waste and secured by four tapes, two on each side. Derek cringed hearing each tape tear and stick to the plastic. A reminder of his future prison. One of the arms patted the front of his diaper signaling that the change was over and the diaper was secured. Derek was then lifted off the changing table and suspended in the air spread eagle once again. His arms were manipulated to put the yellow t-shirt on him. The shirt was a little tight and stopped slightly above his belly button displaying his diaper to all who cared to see. It appeared to be designed perfectly for his body molding to his pecs. Then he was manipulated into the denim overalls with a snap as both straps were secured solidifying his childish look. One of the walls opened up to show a full length mirror. Derek stared at the childish reflection that looked back at him. There he was, a grown adult man in a yellow t-shirt that proudly stated “My daddy loves me!”, denim overalls, and a very obvious diaper bulge. “Don’t you just look so cute! That's what a good boy looks like!” They voice said, seeming to mock him. “Time to start your training!” The back of the room slid open and Derek was lifted through it by the robotic arms. The room was an elaborate and colorful nursery. However this one had one twist to it. It seemed like the machine's past statement of creating things to his size wasn’t just for his clothes. As Derek looked around the room he saw an adult sized crib, adult sized changing mat, an adult sized rocking horse, and worst of all, an adult sized high chair. There’s no way it expected him to use all this stuff, right?! Derek was dropped on his padded bottom with a thump and the robotic arms receded back into the previous room where the door slid shut behind him. Locking him in his prison for the rest of the day. If you're enjoying the story so far why not check out my DeviantArt for other abdl related content: https://www.deviantart.com/pigeonman13 Part 2 - Looks like Derek wasn't so lucky at proving how much of a big boy he is.... Derek sat there on the padded floor, his mind still reeling from the surreal and humiliating ordeal he’d just endured. The thick diaper crinkled loudly with every slight movement, a constant reminder of his predicament. He had to get out of here, and fast. His eyes darted around the nursery, scanning for any possible escape route, but all he saw were the oversized baby items designed for an adult. There was no visible door or handle, just bright, cheerful walls covered in pastel-colored murals of smiling animals and toddlers. “Okay, think, Derek,” he mumbled to himself, trying to keep his composure. “There’s got to be a way to explain this. Someone’s going to realize they made a mistake, right?” As if on cue, the robotic voice chimed in again, its tone sickeningly sweet. “Sam, we know this is all new and strange, but you’ll get used to it in no time! Now, it’s time to play and explore! Good boys get rewarded for participating.” Derek’s jaw clenched around the pacifier, which was still lodged firmly in his mouth. He wanted to spit it out, but every time he tried to push it with his tongue, it seemed to expand slightly, filling his mouth even more. The drugged liquid had stopped flowing, but a lingering, slightly numbing sensation remained. The damn thing was almost becoming a reflex now—he caught himself sucking on it without even thinking, which only made him more frustrated. He stood up carefully, his legs wobbly, and waddled awkwardly toward what looked like an adult-sized playpen. It was made of sturdy, colorful plastic, and the bars looked thick enough to prevent even a full-grown man like himself from climbing over. He shook one of the bars, testing it, but it didn’t budge. Great, just great. Derek’s attention then turned to the oversized rocking horse in the corner. It looked ridiculously out of place, like a giant toy in some twisted carnival. An idea struck him—if he could use the horse as a battering ram, maybe he could smash through one of the walls. He started towards it, determined, but the moment he placed his hand on the horse’s mane, a soft jingle played, and the robotic voice returned. “Good choice, Sam! Riding the horse is a wonderful way to exercise and have fun. Hold on tight!” Before Derek could react, mechanical arms emerged from the wall again, grabbing him under the armpits and lifting him effortlessly onto the rocking horse. The horse began to move gently, rocking back and forth. Derek struggled against the restraints that now held his wrists to the horse’s handles, but he was stuck. “Dammit, let me go!” he tried to shout, but it came out as a muffled moan around the pacifier. The horse picked up speed, rocking more vigorously. The motion was almost hypnotic, and despite his best efforts to remain defiant, Derek felt himself being lulled into a strange, helpless calm. The combination of the horse’s rhythmic movement and the gentle cooing of the robotic voice was oddly soothing. “That’s it, just relax and have fun, Sam. You’re doing such a good job!” the voice praised. Derek’s cheeks burned with humiliation. This was insane. He was a grown man, not some toddler who needed potty training. He had to find a way out of here and get back to Steven and Sam. They must be worried sick by now. Suddenly, the horse slowed to a stop, and the restraints released his wrists. Derek slid off the horse, his legs wobbly from the experience. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and turned back towards the wall where he’d come in, only to see it was still firmly shut. “Maybe I can find something to pry it open,” he thought, scanning the room again. His gaze fell on the adult-sized high chair. As much as he hated the thought, it was one of the few pieces of furniture in the room that wasn’t bolted down. Maybe if he could break it apart, he could use a piece to jimmy the door open or break through the wall. With a sense of grim determination, Derek waddled over to the high chair, his diaper crinkling noisily with each step. The thing was huge, made of solid wood, and painted in bright, cheerful colors. He tugged at the tray, hoping it would come loose, but it was securely attached. Frustrated, he put his weight into it, pulling harder. The robotic voice returned, this time with a more insistent tone. “Sam, it’s time for your snack. Please sit down and behave like a good boy.” Before Derek could back away, more mechanical arms appeared, pushing him gently but firmly into the high chair. The tray was locked into place in front of him, trapping him in the seat. He thrashed against the restraints, but it was no use. His legs dangled helplessly, the diaper making his position even more uncomfortable. A moment later, a robotic arm appeared with a large baby bottle filled with a thick, creamy liquid. The bottle was brought to his lips, the back of the pacifier was unscrewed and the bottle was screwed in. “Drink up, Sam! Growing boys need their nutrition,” the voice encouraged. Derek tried to turn his head away, but there was no avoiding the pacifier already in his mouth, the cold liquid started to dribble on his tongue through the hole in the pacifier and he found himself sucking on it involuntarily. The liquid inside was sweet and slightly chalky, coating his tongue and throat as he swallowed. “Shit, what the hell is this stuff?” he thought, his eyes widening in alarm. He could feel the liquid settling heavily in his stomach, and a strange warmth began to spread through his body. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it made him feel sluggish, almost drowsy. As much as he tried to fight it, his eyelids grew heavier with each swallow. “Just relax, Sam. You’re doing so well. After your snack, it’ll be time for a nice nap. Then we can start your first potty training session!” the voice cooed softly. Derek’s heart pounded in his chest, but his body felt like it was betraying him. The last thing he remembered was the soothing, gentle rocking of the high chair as he drifted off, his mind screaming for escape even as his body surrendered to the strange, overwhelming calm. Derek’s eyes fluttered open as the discomfort between his legs pulled him out of a restless sleep. It took a few moments for the grogginess to clear, and then the reality of his situation came crashing back. He was still strapped into the adult-sized high chair, the pacifier-bottle contraption still in his mouth. He shifted slightly, feeling the damp, swollen padding of his diaper against his skin. “No, no, no...” he muttered, his voice shaky with disbelief and embarrassment. He was wet. He had actually wet himself in his sleep. A cold dread settled in his stomach. Maybe the machine wouldn’t notice. Maybe he could get out of here and change himself before it realized. Just as that faint hope began to take root, a loud, blaring alarm sounded through the room, making Derek jump in his seat. “ACCIDENT DETECTED. ACCIDENT DETECTED. A CHANGE IS REQUIRED,” the robotic voice announced with almost gleeful certainty. “Dammit,” Derek groaned, burying his face in his hands. His cheeks burned with humiliation. It was one thing to be forced into a diaper, but to actually use it? And now this damn machine was about to rub his face in it. The voice returned, soft but condescending. “Oh, Sam! It looks like we made the right decision earlier, didn’t we? You weren’t ready for big boy undies after all. But that’s okay, everyone has accidents!” The words stung, and Derek could feel his temper rising. “I’m not Sam! I’m an adult, and I don’t need this!” he spat back, his voice muffled by the remnants of the pacifier still stuck around his neck. Mechanical arms appeared again, lifting him out of the high chair and carrying him over to the large changing table. He was laid down gently, the arms moving with an efficiency that would have been almost impressive if he weren’t the one being manhandled. The smell of his wet diaper hit him as the tapes were pulled back, and Derek’s humiliation deepened. “Let’s get this soggy diaper off you, Sam,” the voice cooed. “We wouldn’t want you getting a rash!” As the arms cleaned him up with methodical precision, Derek stared at the ceiling, trying to tune out the humiliating experience. Baby wipes passed over his skin, and then a fresh layer of powder was sprinkled over his crotch and ass. Another diaper—thicker and somehow even more crinkly—was slid under him, pulled up between his legs, and secured with loud, final-sounding tapes. Once he was dressed again, he was lifted off the changing table and set down on the floor. He was fuming, his face still flushed with shame. “Now, let’s see if we can avoid any more accidents today, okay, Sam?” the voice chimed. “I’ll show you where the bathroom is.” A section of the wall slid open, revealing what looked like a bathroom—sort of. There was no regular toilet, just an oversized training potty in the center of the room. It was bright blue, adorned with cheerful cartoon characters, and looked absolutely ridiculous. Derek’s heart sank. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered. The voice continued, unfazed. “Whenever you need to use the potty, just let me know, and I’ll help you get there. It’s important to ask nicely, okay?” Derek didn’t respond. He just stared at the absurd little potty, trying to wrap his head around the reality he was stuck in. Was this some kind of cruel prank? He had to get out of here, but every escape attempt had been thwarted, and his body was still sluggish from whatever was in that bottle. Hours dragged on, filled with more condescending lessons about “potty time” and reminders to “be a good boy and tell us if you need to go.” Derek gritted his teeth through it all, refusing to play along. He kept trying to hold onto whatever shred of dignity he had left, but it was getting harder. Then, he felt the first twinges in his stomach. A familiar, uncomfortable pressure. His morning coffee and the milk from the bottle were making their presence known. The urgency grew, and Derek knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer. He swallowed his pride and cleared his throat. “Uh, I need to use the bathroom,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. The machine hummed softly. “And how do we ask nicely, Sam?” Derek’s eye twitched. He didn’t have time for this. “Just let me use the damn bathroom!” “Language, Sam!” the voice scolded, still infuriatingly cheerful. “We only use nice words when asking for the potty. Try again.” He clenched his fists, his frustration boiling over. “I *need* to go to the bathroom! Just let me—” “Uh-uh, Sam. That’s not how we ask.” The robotic tone was patronizing now, almost teasing. “Remember, if you want to use the potty, you have to be polite.” Derek’s stomach cramped painfully, and he let out a groan. He could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead. This was ridiculous. He wasn’t about to beg this machine to use a stupid training potty like some toddler. He was a grown man! “Please,” he forced out through gritted teeth, the word tasting bitter in his mouth. “Please let me use the bathroom.” The machine didn’t respond immediately, and Derek could feel the seconds ticking by. His stomach gurgled again, and he knew he was out of time. Panic set in as he realized what was about to happen. “Come on!” he shouted, desperation creeping into his voice. “I need to go *now*!” Silence. And then, before he could stop it, he felt his body give in. He squatted slightly, and a wave of shame washed over him as he felt his bowels release into the diaper. The warm, squishy mess spread across his backside, and he groaned in humiliation. His face was hot, tears of frustration prickling at the corners of his eyes. “Damn it,” he choked out, his voice trembling. “This is your fault! I’m a grown man, and you—” He broke off, feeling the full weight of his situation. He was standing there, in an oversized diaper, having just messed himself like a child. The voice responded, almost mockingly. “Oh, Sam, everybody has accidents. That’s why you’re here, to learn how to use the potty properly. We’ll get there eventually. But first, you need to ask nicely if you want a clean diaper.” Derek’s anger flared again. “This is bullshit! I wouldn’t have had an accident if you’d just let me use the bathroom! Change me now!” “No, no, Sam. We need to hear you ask nicely or see that you’re really sorry. Otherwise, we can just keep playing until you’re ready.” The robotic arms reappeared, this time gently lifting him onto the rocking horse. Derek’s legs splayed awkwardly, the mess in his diaper squishing further as the horse began to rock back and forth. He squirmed, trying to find a position that didn’t feel so degrading, but it was impossible. “Just play a little more, Sam. You’ll feel better soon,” the voice crooned. Derek could feel himself breaking. He wanted to fight, to scream, but he was exhausted and humiliated, the mess in his diaper a constant, awful reminder of how powerless he was. The rocking horse moved rhythmically, almost soothingly, but the sensation of the diaper pressed against his skin was unbearable. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. Tears welled up in his eyes, and before he knew it, he was crying—full, body-shaking sobs of frustration, anger, and shame. “Please,” he whimpered, his voice cracking. “Please, just change me.” The rocking horse slowed to a stop, and the voice spoke again, softer this time. “There, there, Sam. It’s okay. We all have bad days. Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can try again.” The arms lifted him gently, carrying him over to the changing table once more. Derek’s body was limp with exhaustion and defeat as the machine removed his soiled diaper and cleaned him up with the same efficient care as before. As the fresh diaper was secured around his waist, Derek closed his eyes, feeling utterly drained. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take, but one thing was painfully clear—he was trapped, and he had no idea how to get out.

The following is a PREVIEW of a brand new story that you can find on my subscriber pages. I have 35 stories available for subscribers that are available nowhere else and you can read all of them RIGHT NOW if you subscribe at the $10 tier or higher. Writing is my only form of income and all the money I make from it goes towards helping with bills, groceries and other expenses. It means the world to me to have people who enjoy and support what I do, without their support I simply would not be able to spend my time writing. I want to tank everyone who subscribes to me and everyone who checks out my latest story! Thank you ❤️ https://reamstories.com/elfy https://subscribestar.adult/elfy --- A truck roared past Tina, shaking the car she was sitting in gently as the wind buffeted her. She blinked a couple of times and looked around with confusion. She was parked at a small service station on the short part of the highway that connected Sunny Days Retirement Centre with her home. “How did I…” Tina trailed off as she looked around. She felt groggy and strange. The last thing Tina remembered was sitting at the Retirement Centre. It felt like she had blinked and when her eyes opened, she was in her car miles away from where she had been before. She checked her phone and saw that several hours had passed. She’d zoned out before whilst working but she’d never experienced lost time quite like that. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember anything that had happened for quite some time. Tina shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It felt like something was missing and that its absence was making her uneasy. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, as she tried to think hard about how she had ended up there or why it felt like she should have something around her butt she subconsciously brought her thumb up to her mouth. It had already passed her lips before she realised what she was doing. She quickly pulled it out, staring at her hand as if it was operating on its own accord, when she noticed that she had a deep yearning to put it back in her mouth. “I’m just tired…” Tina said to herself, “It’s been a long day pretending to be nice to those old people, I need to go home and rest.” But no matter how much Tina tried to ignore how she was feeling or explain away the weird cravings she couldn’t pretend like she didn’t want something to fill her mouth. She couldn’t pretend that she didn’t feel like she should be sitting on something like a pillow. It made no sense to her and yet it fully occupied in mind. She tried to start driving but it was like her mind wouldn’t let her concentrate on anything until at least one of these conditions were met. Tina put her thumb back in her mouth. As soon as she did so it became that much easier to concentrate on what she had to do to get home. Thankfully the car was an automatic so driving one-handed wasn’t an impossibility. She turned the key to turn the engine on and then pulled out to continue on the journey home. The lack of material around Tina’s waist was still distracting her and she kept shifting in her seat as if it would help. She sucked on her thumb in concentration as the car rolled down the highway. Normally she would drive as quickly as she felt she could get away with, it’s how she had ended up with so many speeding tickets, but now she was travelling well under the speed limit as she tried her best to just get home. She would blush every time she was passed and saw a bewildered driver looking into her car to see the thumb-sucking woman. “Just get home… Just get home…” Tina mumbled around her thumb as drool dripped down her chin. People stared as they passed. Tina tried to keep her eyes straight ahead but it was difficult to ignore the way she was stared at. She was nearly off the highway when she saw blue lights illuminate her car. She looked up into the rearview mirror to see a police car right behind her. “Oh crap.” Tina mumbled. She pulled over and took her thumb out of her mouth. Almost immediately her brain was telling her she needed to put it back in. Looking in the wing mirror, Tina could see the police officer walking up to her car. She was gripping the steering wheel extra hard just to prevent her brain from sticking one of her thumbs in her mouth. It was like she was addicted. “License and registration please.” The officer said as he approached the window. Tina leaned over to the glove compartment. As she did so she became acutely aware of how something was missing. That pillow she felt like she should have between her legs became something she craved. Retrieving her documents she handed them to the officer who looked through them. “Is… Is there a problem?” Tina asked. “You were driving a little slowly back there.” The officer replied, “I wanted to make sure everything was alright.” “Oh, I’m fine.” Tina lied with a smile, “Never better.” “Alright, well, let me just go and check a few things on the computer, OK? Sit tight.” The officer said as he went back to his squad car. Tina drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. She wanted nothing more to put her thumb back in her mouth. She didn’t understand it. She’d never had such a strange oral fixation before and yet now she couldn’t stop thinking about sucking on something. Her leg was shaking as she looked in the mirror. The officer was in his squad car talking into his radio. Tina tried to resist the cravings. She tried to think of other things but as soon as she convinced her brain to think about something else it simply settled on the other craving, the need to be sat on something, to feel it wrapped around her waist. She couldn’t even begin to work out what it was she wanted or where the need had come from. She glanced in the mirror again. Still, the officer was sitting in his car. The desire to stick her thumb in her mouth was only growing. Tina thought that maybe she should do it right then, whilst she was alone. If she could satisfy the craving it would be easier to think and she could get home as soon as possible. She was starting to think she might need to call a doctor, something very strange seemed to be happening to her. Unable to resist Tina stuck a thumb out and pushed it into her mouth. She very quickly felt some of the agitation leaving her and she slumped slightly in the seat. It was like a drug. When she didn’t have it, she could think of nothing else but as soon as the craving was satisfied, she was able to relax. She closed her eyes and a small smile curled the corners of her lips. “Ma’am?” The officer appeared back at the window. Tina was startled as she opened her eyes and looked up the policeman standing at her door. He was looking down at her and frowning. She belatedly pulled her thumb out of her mouth as her cheeks blushed red. “Everything seems to be in order.” The officer said somewhat slowly, “Are you sure everything is OK?” “Y-Yes, sir.” Tina replied, “It’s just been a bit of a long day.” “Right…” The officer took a second to get his professionalism back, “OK, well, you may not realise this but driving as slowly as you were can be as dangerous as speeding, alright? It’s difficult for cars behind you to judge your speed.” “Yes, officer.” Tina said. “Alright, you go ahead and have a good evening.” The officer finally finished as he handed Tina her documents back. Tina couldn’t wait to get away from there. As soon as the officer went back to his car, she rolled up her window and started driving again. The policeman followed her for a little bit and Tina made sure to keep up with traffic. Thankfully the squad car soon pulled out from behind her and overtook the car as it carried on down the road. The whole time she had resisted sucking her thumb, not wanting the cop to think she needed to be talked to again. With a sigh of relief, Tina stuck her thumb back in her mouth. Like a smoker getting some nicotine it seemed like just what she needed. Tina turned off the highway at the next exit and carried on back to her house in the leafy suburbs. Pulling into her driveway, Tina was forced to take her digit out from between her lips as she carried her bag inside. She went straight to the living room and dropped on to the couch. As Tina tried to sort out her thoughts, the bag, which she had placed on the edge of the table tipped over and fell to the floor. She closed her eyes as she sucked on her thumb and tried to remember what had happened in the hours that had gone missing. She had been sitting at her table, bored out of her mind, when three women had approached her… after that it was blank. The next thing she remembered was sitting in her car halfway home. Hours had gone missing and she had no idea what had happened, only that she now had this weird obsession with filling her mouth and a need to wrap something around her waist. An idea hit Tina and she quickly stood up. She nearly tripped over the strap of her bag that was hanging over the edge of the table as she went quickly towards the door. She went out into the laundry room where she found a basket of clothes she hadn’t yet put in the washing machine. She dug through it until she felt a towel and pulled it out, scattering some of her clothes on the floor. After some fumbling Tina had managed to wrap the large towel around her waist and tucked the middle up between her legs. She felt the craving for bulk between her thighs drop slightly, though it was still there. It would do for now until she could work out what was happening. Tina went back to the living room with the intention of picking up her phone to call the doctor when she spotted something odd. On the floor was a VHS tape. She hadn’t seen one since she was a child and had certainly never owned one. It must’ve fallen out of her bag when it tipped over. She bent down and picked it up. The white label on top simply said “Watch Me.” “The hell?” Tina said as she picked the tape up, “Who even has a VHS player these days?” Tina thought she was out of luck but there was a lot of junk in the garage. Boxes of stuff from when her parents had passed away that she hadn’t sorted through yet. Waddling awkwardly, with one thumb in her mouth and the other holding up the towel she went out the backdoor towards the garage. “Morning, Tina.” Jeff, Tina’s next-door neighbour shouted over the fence. Tina froze. When she looked to the side, she saw Jeff had been watering his flowers. Now he was looking over the boundary between their two backyards with a confused expression. Tina couldn’t blame him. She hurriedly pulled the thumb out of her mouth and let the towel go as if that in any way might obfuscate what had already been seen. “H-Hello, Jeff.” Tina called out as casually as she could manage, “L-Lovely weather we’re having.” Jeff didn’t reply. Tina quickly carried on to the garage whilst doing her best to suppress the need to start sucking her thumb again. Once in the privacy of her garage she looked around at the boxes which were piled high against the walls. She sighed and started looking through them. In the end, she was very lucky. In just the fourth box she checked she found an old VHS player with the leads still attached. Tina picked it up and hurried back to her house. She didn’t slow down to see if she was still being watched by curious neighbours, she imagined Jeff would be back indoors telling his wife about her strange behaviour. Once back in her living room, Tina hooked up the VHS player to her television and then picked up the tape. She slowly pushed it into the slot and then pressed the play button. For a second nothing happened, but then the screen switched from the cooking show that had been on to a very different scene altogether. “What the fu-…” Tina started to exclaim. She covered her mouth in shock and then slowly lowered it as she took in everything on the screen in front of her. “Hello, Miss. Hinchcliffe. Do you remember me? My name is Wendy.” Tina needed the reminder. She didn’t remember the name of anyone she had met that day, “I’m sure, if you’re watching this, you’ve been having an interesting little time. Don’t worry, dear, all will become clear.” Tina was sat on the floor staring at the TV without being able to comprehend what was happening. Someone must’ve been holding the camera as it now panned from the old lady’s face to the floor behind her. Tina covered her mouth as she let out a little scream. She was sitting on one of the couches in the very room her stall had been set up in earlier that day, stripped of all but her underwear as a group of old people joked and watched on. “Th-This can’t be real!” Tina gasped to no one in particular. The video kept moving forwards with the occasional artifacts seen on old VHS tapes. Tina saw herself sitting on the couch in front of all these old men and women with a distant look in her eyes and a vacant smile on her lips. One of the older women whom she recognised was sat next to her with a strange spiral disk, even watching it on the tape made Tina start to feel somewhat drowsy. “Do you remember, Marge?” Wendy asked as she pointed the camera at the person holding the spiral disk, “Did you know she used to be a stage hypnotist?” Tina’s eyes were wide open. Was this what had happened to her in those missing hours? “We’ll need to give her a sponge bath, of course.” Another older woman said. Wendy turned the camera to another elderly woman. Another of the people who had been sat in front of her table earlier that day, “Don’t worry, Tina, I’m a retired nurse. I don’t imagine you’ll remember but my name’s Harriett, young people like you never bother to remember our names, right?” “Look how young she is!” An older man’s voice called out from somewhere in the crowd, “She’s just a baby!” “Funny you should say that…” Wendy’s voice was coming from behind the camcorder now. It seemed she was the one filming, “Get a pad down underneath her.” Tina watched the screen as her past self stood up compliantly and what looked like several puppy pads was put all over the couch. Tina gasped as Hariett hooked her fingers under Tina’s panties. They came down to wolf-whistles and catcalls from the surrounding crowd. Present Tina’s eyes were filling with tears at the humiliation. It was far from over though. Tina’s bra came off next leaving her small perky breasts to drop slightly. Soon she was completely naked. As she watched the scene unfolding on the TV her thumb found its way back into her mouth, she sucked on it subconsciously, desperate to feel some soothing feelings. She pulled the towel tighter against herself. “Hariett, you know what to do.” Wendy said. Her voice became distorted for a moment. Tina saw the old nurse walk off screen leaving her staring at Marge and what she now realised was happening to her. She’d been hypnotised. It felt impossible, she had never believed in all that mumbo-jumbo and yet she couldn’t deny what she was seeing. Part of her wanted to turn the video off right away but she couldn’t, she had to know what these elderly people had done to her. Hariett returned to the screen with a blue bucket. Tina stared uncomprehendingly at how she just sat and smiled whilst completely naked. She willed the version on herself to get up and run away but she just looked around with glassy eyes as if she was happy to be there. “Everyone, feel free to join in!” Hariett called out, “I brought enough for everyone!” Tina didn’t immediately know what the old woman meant. That was until she saw people taking wet sponges out of the bucket. She whined and felt her humiliation growing as she was sponged down by these old men and women. She could hear the comments they made about her body, as if she was just some toy or doll to be played with. She shivered, shivers ran up and down her body as if she could feel what she was seeing on the screen. “You’re so young…” Wendy said as she zoomed the camera in on Tina’s face, “And yet you think you can come and tell us what to do?” The Tina with her thumb in her mouth whined in embarrassment. She watched as sponges were rubbed on her arms, her legs, her breasts and everything else. It felt impossible that she wouldn’t remember anything. She wondered if it was somehow manipulated footage but that seemed almost more unlikely than the hypnotism she was watching. “You should always listen to your elders.” Marge said. Her voice was soft and dreamlike. She was still letting that pendulum swing back and forth, “You should never talk back to them.” Even as Tina watched the tape, she realised she was nodding in agreement and quickly stopped herself. She felt a shiver go down her spine, she was starting to realise just how vulnerable she had been. It wasn’t just the fact that she was naked, it was also the fact that she had been manipulated. Anything could’ve been done to her mind and she could only watch the tape to find out. “She’s very cute though.” Hariett commented, “Like a newborn baby.” The pad that had been placed beneath the Tina on the screen was getting wetter and wetter as the water from the sponges dripped down over her body. The whole time it was happening, the several excruciating minutes, was filled with these elderly people making jokes and comments about how she was just a silly a little girl. When it finally ended, the sponges were dropped into the bucket again. Tina saw herself still sitting on the sofa with the same vacant smile. Every time someone had moved her arm or leg she had held it out until someone moved it back to its resting position. To have her dignity and free-will so easily stolen terrified her. The worst part was that she knew this wasn’t the end of it. The need to have something wrapped around her waist and her thumb sucking still hadn’t been explained. Tina pressed pause on the VCR. She didn’t feel like she could watch any more. The more she saw the worse it was. She didn’t want to know what those evil women had done and yet she felt compelled to see more. There was no way she could carry on with this desperate need to fill her mouth, just imagining trying to work with these new compulsions made her want to hide away forever. She had to imagine there was an answer to her problems in the video. “Alright, I think she’s as clean as she’s going to get.” Wendy called out from behind the camera. Tina, the one watching the television, saw the camera turn around to point at Wendy’s sneering face. It looked like she was greatly enjoying humbling the younger woman. Tina felt a shiver go down her spine. “Keep watching.” Wendy said, “You’ll love this next part.” Tina swallowed nervously as the camera turned back around to face her strangely absent form on the couch. The towels that had been drying her were pulled away and there was activity from off to the side of the screen. Tina could see the crowd of elderly people moving to let someone through. She was terrified of what was coming. “We have to keep the little girl safe and sound.” Wendy called out to general laughter, “Luckily, she came here. There’s plenty of experience in raising children in this room!” Tina didn’t understand. She clearly wasn’t a child; she was almost thirty! Sure, that may have been less than half the age of most of the baying mob surrounding her but she wasn’t some kid that had got lost and wandered into the retirement centre! Tina’s cell phone suddenly rang making her jump. She fumbled with the remote until she pressed the pause button, the screen freezing on an image of her vacant eyes looking at something just off camera. “Hewwo?” Tina suddenly realised she still had her thumb in her mouth and quickly pulled it out, “Ahem, hello?” “Tina? Is everything OK?” Mr. Harrison asked. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Why wouldn’t it be?” Tina said quickly. She wondered if a copy of this tape had found its way to her boss or something. “You were supposed to call when you were leaving Sunny Days.” Mr. Harrison reminded her. “Oh, damn, sorry…” Tina shook her head, “Sorry, I’ve been, erm, distracted.” As Tina spoke, she lowered the volume on the TV until it was almost muted and then pressed play. She stared at the screen hoping an answer to what was going on would appear before her. Already she was feeling desperate to put her thumb back in her mouth. “There were no problems then?” Mr. Harrison asked. “No, none at all…” Tina replied. On the screen she watched as Hariett bent her arm and forced her thumb into her mouth to the delight of the crowd. Tina came to the sudden realisation that as she watched herself do it on the screen, she had slipped her digit back between lips as well. She pulled it out quickly leaving some drool to drip on to her chin. “Did you get any signups?” Mr. Harrison asked. “I, erm…” Tina wasn’t really listened. The crowds were looking at something excitedly and a box was being brought forwards. Tina frowned as a pink mat was taken out of the box and laid on the floor. Her past self, naked on the couch, watched on with an indifferent smile. Tina wished she would get up and get out of there but she wouldn’t budge an inch. All she knew was that as she looked at the screen and saw the box, she felt the need to have something thick wrapped her waist grow uncontrollably. A small tub was taken out of the box and placed on the ground next to it. Then a packet of something that looked like tissues and a plastic bag. Tina continued watching almost as hypnotised by what she was seeing as the naked version of herself on the screen. Hariett reached into the box one final time… “Tina? Hello?” Mr. Harrison said. “I’m here, I just…” Tina muttered slowly. Her eyes were transfixed on the screen as she saw the old nurse lift her arm. Tina gasped loudly. “What’s going on? Is everything alright?” Mr. Harrison asked. “I’ll… I’ll call you back.” Tina said vaguely. With Mr. Harrison still trying to speak to her, Tina hung up the phone and let it drop beside her. The colour drained from her face as she saw a diaper get lifted out of the box. She shook her head but it was starting to make sense. The feeling she had of needing something thick around her waist… On the screen, at the apparent instruction of Marge, Tina stood up and then laid down on the changing mat without any hesitation. Tina turned the volume back up. The diaper that Hariett held was allowed to fall open to the cheers of the crowd who seemed to be loving this change from their usual schedule. Tina’s naked hips compliantly lifted when she was tapped a couple of times on her thigh and the disposable being slipped underneath her. Tina fumbled for the remote and turned the volume up again. She was hearing the voices of the people in the crowd now. They were treating the whole thing like some sort of show or performance and the old women at the centre of it were playing right into it. “Do we think this is thick enough?” Wendy called out from behind the camera. “No!” “Double them up!” “Make it so she has to crawl!” The suggestions were shouted out to laughter from everyone else. Tina watched the screen wondering if there was a single person there with compassion. She wondered where the nurses and staff were. How could all of this have gone unnoticed!? “You heard them.” Wendy said with a laugh. “When we’re finished...” Marge said in that strangely soft voice, “You’ll ALWAYS want thick padding between your legs.” The Tina watching the screen gulped as she felt the need for more padding grow. The towel wasn’t enough. She realised that even as she was watching the hypnosis was being reinforced. She wondered if it would’ve been better to turn the tape off but she had to know what happened to her, she had to know if there was a cure for whatever was going on somewhere in there. On the screen, a second and then a third diaper were taken out of the box. Tina couldn’t believe what she was seeing as, yet again, her crotch raised compliantly in the air allowing the unfolded diapers to be stacked on top of each other. “Stop it!” Tina yelled to herself in frustration, “Get out of there!” With each diaper added to the stack underneath her naked butt on the screen, Tina, watching the screen, felt a need to have more thickness between her legs too. She pulled the towel closer and, when that wasn’t enough, she grabbed a couple of cushions from the couch and sat on them, squeezing their softness between her legs. Anything to recreate the feeling. Her brain constantly demanding more. “Don’t forget the powder and cream!” Someone yelled out. “Ooh, yes, we wouldn’t want the baby to get a rash, would we?” Wendy said. She’d moved forwards and was giving an almost bird’s eye view of the action. Tina watched the television as cream was rubbed all over her intimate parts. She brought her hands up to her head in humiliation at what had been done to her. Then the powder was sprinkled liberally all over her crotch and the open diapers. They must’ve used half the container before they were satisfied. The first diaper was lifted up and taped into place. Then the second one followed. The third was a bit of a stretch but they managed to get it on the pliant woman shortly afterwards. With each new layer the Tina watching the screen squeezed the cushions more tightly between her legs. “Oh, we mustn’t forget… this.” Wendy said as the camera pointed down to show her going through her pocket. Tina saw a pacifier get pulled out. She felt her pulse quicken and, in response to just seeing the object she felt her mouth salivating. Drool leaked out of the corners of her mouth and down her chin as she stuck her thumb in her mouth, barely aware of her own actions. On the screen the freshly diapered Tina had the pacifier pressed between her lips to the delight of the onlookers. Tina squeezed the cushions between her legs tighter and sucked on her thumb. She hadn’t thought there would be any explanation for how she had woken up but now she had actually seen what had happened she was left stunned. She had never believed in hypnotising or anything like that but the evidence was right there in front of her, on the screen and still clearly effecting her strongly. “This is just the start of our fun.” Wendy said with a big smile as the camera turned to her face and focused slightly, “We’ve got quite some plans for you this afternoon.” --- If you enjoyed this and want to see the full 15,000+ word story RIGHT NOW you can do so at the following links. The full story contains more humiliation, more diapers and more lack of control! Thank you so much for supporting me and allowing me to do what I love ❤️ https://subscribestar.adult/posts/1481760 https://reamstories.com/page/lpjgftb4y2/story/m0uav3ey4z

Had a silly little idea last night and I thought there might be someone out there who'd enjoy it. It's a little different from my usual stuff, but my brain is really itching to try to make it into a full fledged story. Basically, it starts with a team of magical girls who are trying to defeat a vampire/demon lord tyrant (you know the usual set up for magical girls). One of them manages to steal his magic orb that unlocks a lot of his powers. At some point he captures all the girls and nullifies their magic powers. One brave girl, the one who holds the orb, offers herself as a hostage if he lets the other girls go. Feeling like he can twist the situation to his favor, he agrees only if she agrees to be his pet not his hostage. To save her friends she agrees, keeping the orb hidden with a fraction of her power she has left. There's a scene where he takes her clothes away and she freaks out a little until she's handed a pair of training pants and a cutesy dress. He makes some remark about how it is almost as cutesy as her magical girl costume. She's taken to her room that looks like a giant princess room fit for a little girl. Very out of place in a huge dark castle. The lord is a little mean at first. Often laughing at her predicament especially as the magic seals on her clothes wear down her potty training and maturity. But, much to her surprise, the lord stops right before she starts to cry and is very gentle when helping her clean up. Of course, he insists if she's making puddles everywhere she's got to wear pull-ups. He even gets her a princess potty seat that she's allowed to use (as the toilet was off limits without his permission). He tricks her into enjoying some time on the swings and playing with some toys in her room. Even allows her to sit on his lap during an important meeting with his underlings, although he puts her under a spell to be unable to understand anything said. There's a scene where she gets sick, and tries to hide it. He finds out and teases her pretty heavy, but it's the moment where he kinda realizes his heart isn't into the humiliation factor anymore. This is when the baby stuff truly starts to come out as she's too sick to make it to her potty. Diapers, a crib, and all kinds of other stuff. When she starts feeling better, she goes exploring, finding a box of momentoes from the lord's childhood. Although most of them are broken. She finds a ripped up photo album depicting him being the target of bullying and other bad things. She also finds a ripped up kitty plush and hatches an idea. In her spare time, she stitches the kitty up and hides the orb inside. The situation comes to a head when the lord blows his top, saying a lot of cruel things about the magical girl and her position as his 'pet' but it's mostly said from a place of fear as he's gotten quite attached to her and thinks she'll leave if given the chance. Upset, of course, the magical girl drops the kitty plush and runs off to cry leaving the lord dumbfounded. He can tell the orb is in the plush, but the plush is one from his childhood, ripped apart by his tormentors. Of course he's not going to rip it again just to get the orb. He finds the magical girl hiding under her crib, or behind her giant stuffed bear, or somewhere equally obvious for a child to hide. They reach a stalemate. He has his orb but can't use it and now has the added responsibility of caring for a regressed magical girl. And she's so dependent on him that being released would do her more harm than good. While preoccupied with her, his control over the land has loosened and the village people are happier than ever. He doesn't give up his lordship, but pivots more to a nurturing role for her. He gives her the plush which allows her a bigger portion of her power. Diapered magical girl transformation with her running to her daddy after every encounter. Although instead of demon lords and tyrants, she's fighting little slime monsters and things in the garden. He's proud of her either way and she's more than happy.