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Real Age

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  1. In a certain sense, incontinence is like an empty gas tank. At some point you're driving and something has to be done about it and if you don't, you're going to be waylaid. Often it's smart to pre-empt the needs of your tank. The only difference is the obvious, that being empty and being full mean quite different things when it comes to gas tanks and diapers. I have, unfortunately, been known to run on fumes. In other senses, incontinence is like trying to keep a sandcastle from slumping and oozing into the dunes of the beach. Too wet or too dry, your magnificent plans are always coming back down to mush. Sometimes I describe it as a constant choose-your-own-adventure picture book. Except that it is one where almost all of the outcomes are bad (LEAKED - WOMP WOMP), where every 'picture' is a dark spot on my ass. I have, unfortunately, been known to be as bad at incontinence as I am bad at continence. But this story isn't about incontinence. Well it is, don't get me wrong. I don't have any stories about myself that don't include a diaper. This is about refilling the tank. This is about keeping the sandcastle up. This is about finding that final, glorious page of the picture book where something other than 'GET WET, LOSER' is written. I live with my boyfriend, whose name is Pete. He likes me for every other reason than my babyishness, but he likes that too. He doesn't mind that I'm too fraidy-scared to drive. He is totally okay that half of our cabinets are filled with sippy cups and disney plates – the ones with the little dividers and princess painted on them. He doesn't mind that I occasionally, without even noticing, shove my thumb into my mouth, though he does make me take it out for a pacifier if I do. He doesn't mind that I screech when I see a bug, though to be fair, who really really likes bugs anyway? It started in the middle of the night. I woke up confused and disoriented. I both knew why I was awake and at the same time, I couldn't figure it out. What was that, down there, on my butt? Is it Pete kicking me in his sleep? Is Gubbles, our cat, making biscuits on my tush? An intruder? Did the pillow get in between us to rest on my butt? What the... I realized that it was what it always was. The mess is what wakes me up. I never awaken with cramps with time to hop out of bed. That would be hopeless anyway. I'd probably just end up elbowing Pete in the face. After that, I'd trip on the covers. I'd step on Gubbles. I'd run headlong into the bathroom door. And despite all of the bumps and bruises and general carnage my midnight rush would cause, my diaper would still wind up heavy. No, any dramatic hope of getting to the potty is beyond me. I'm going to shit the bed and I'm going to find out after the fact. Now, the next thing here Daddy definitely should not know. I went back to sleep. I waited until the movement stopped and then I put a hand down there to feel it. It wasn't a ton. It wasn't anything in the emergency category. It really never is. I wear a special extra pad in the back part of the diaper for exactly this reason, and I usually don't need it. Sometimes I wrongly assess how much poop is really down there. Like I said, I'm not very good at being incontinent. Daddy – Pete – says that I should deal with it anyway, and no matter how disoriented he is, he is always willing to help no matter the hour. I know that I'm supposed to wake him up. But I also know that when poop does wind up in my diaper, like now, I'm supposed to wait. You never quite know when you're done. Well I don't, at least. So I crack my back and roll over to see if the smell or if the sounds of my toots have woken up Daddy, but they haven't. I tell myself I'm going to wait to see if there is more, and then I'll wake him up. I definitely don't want to wake him up for messy diapers twice in the same night, right? He has to work tomorrow, after all. So I wait, knowing full well that no matter how much poop is in the diaper right now, I'll have no trouble falling asleep...if I just don't...close...my...eyes... I wake up sometime later with a foreign hand on my hip. It's pushing me. Why? I wanna be here! Whyyy? Oh. I let it push me on my back. The dream I'm having surges back until I feel a cold feeling on my legs. The jammies are gone. Whyyy? I pull a hand towards my face and it gets most of the way there but then the dreams come back. Something about a beach...sandcastles...sandcastles melting and sand in my diaper... Not sand. I woke up to see Daddy. He's done more than push me on my back and take my jammies off. There is a new diaper on the corner of the bed. There is the powder and the wipes beside it. There is light coming from the lamp by the bed. I'm no longer by the pillows, I'm at the end of the bed. And there is something under my bum and I can feel the edge of it against my back. "Hi," I said. "Hi," he said. And that's all we needed to say. At some point my doodoo must have woken him up. Now my legs were up, now they were down again. In his tiredness he forgot the cold wipe countdown and I squealed. He didn't say sorry, but he put a hand on my tummy and told me that it was okay. I woke up again sometime later. The smell of poopy was all gone. I didn't even remember the rest of the diaper change. I didn't remember him taking the diaper downstairs to the bathroom with the genie. He didn't like putting the dirty ones in the upstairs genie. I don't remember him going in and washing his hands or spraying the febreeze or turning the fan on or opening the window, though now I could hear the constant tread of heavy rubber tires on the street below. I don't remember him coming back to bed, or if he kissed me on the forehead or tummy once as he did. But he was next to me. His back was turned. I moved to snuggle into him. I don't make a very good big spoon but I like to try. As I do, I realize that the butt of my diaper is stiff and bloated. I try to tell myself that it's not bad enough for Daddy to change me before breakfast, but I know that he probably will if he sees it. I fall asleep again and don't wake up until his alarm goes off. I get up fast. I'd fallen asleep too fast during my nighttime change for Daddy to put my jammies back on, so I found them in the laundry basket and put them back on. I realized that they still kind of smelled but I honestly didn't care. Carliah is a pooper, that's what it is, and poopy probably isn't done with me today yet anyway. Oh no. It wasn't. It definitely wasn't. That's why I'm telling this story. I try to sneak out of the bedroom once the jammies are over my diaper. It's even wetter than it was when I woke up and snuggled earlier. Even worse, the pee pee smells because it's been since the evening since I had any wa-wa. Thinking of that, I find my baba on the bedside table and take a slurp. I figured I'd have a quick sip and then go down to fill it with cold water. All so I can stay away from Daddy and enjoy my pee pee diaper for a little longer. But the slurps from the bottle turn out to be an oopsie, and Daddy wakes up. "Come here," he said, after aching and stretching under the covers. His eyes aren't open yet. One of his hands flops to the edge of the bed and beckons me. I try to ignore his command. "Hi Daddy!" I say. "Hi Carliah," he said. "Come here." "I'm thirsty." "Come here." I try to step around him anyway. I don't want a change and I know it's on his mind. My diaper crunches under my jammies, though, and despite his eyes being closed, he can hone in on my location with ease. His hand lashes out and grasps my back until it closes around my wrist. Rats. "Daddy!" I say, trying to sound as meek as I can. It's probably a miscalculation. Sounding small will only make Daddy harder under the covers, and a hard Daddy means, paradoxically, a dry Carliah. At least in this situation. I'm certainly wet in a brand new way as I feel his fingers enclose around my arm. I'm too horny to yank myself away. But I do try to turn towards him. I can feel where the pee is and its where it usually is – in the back. If he's lazy and he just pats the front he might not lay me down on the bed. But even if he's grunting with every movement of his body. Even if every joint cracks as he slugs his way to the edge of the mattress. Even as yellow gunk falls off his eyelids. Daddy doesn't settle for just patting the front. He tells me to spin around and presses in the shield of the diaper. His hand does not find the crunchy plastic of a dry diaper. Not even close. He leans forward and sniffs. "Daddy!" I say. "Are you pooped?" "No I'm not pooped Daddy," I say. "Smells like it," he says. I think for a second. Sometimes, poop can take me by surprise simply because I'm just so used to it being down there. But I don't think that it's the case this time. I came up with a reason. "I put my jammies back on," he said. "Okay," he says. There is a pause. "Lay down." "Daddy!" "You're too wet." "Daddy!" I say, tugging on his grip. He doesn't release and I'm still too horny to really fight. I couldn't get away anyway if I did. Soon enough I'm on my back. Once again. Daddy, more awake now, decides to give me a morning lecture. "The weather is getting warmer," he says, pointing at the window. "You know how it gets in the summer, Carliah. You know that we need to stay on top of it." "I know." "So I don't want you to fight me. I want you to help stay on top of it too. Were you trying to sneak out of here with this diaper?" "No." "Carliah. Did you wake up when you did your poopy last night?" "No! Daddy, please!" "Carliah?" "What Daddy?" "Be good. And lift your butt. That's better." Daddy was right. It was getting warm, and Spring was coming through the windows. I didn't put my jammies back on. I wore one of Daddy's t-shirts and long socks past my knees and I sat down on the couch. I had to fix my diaper a little; it wasn't one of daddy's best tape-jobs, but I couldn't complain because I'd been fussy and he'd been groggy. Daddy made me toast and some eggs and laid them down on the coffee table. He had picked one of the baby plates, this one with Belle from Beauty and the Beast. He had made himself the same thing, complete with a coffee. He poured me juice, though, and put it in a sippy cup so I couldn't spill. "Aww, I forgot the apples," he said. "It's okay!" I said, popping up. "I can get them." Daddy looked at my diaper, which flashed before his t-shirt fell over it to cover it. "Thank you honey," he said. I walked over to the kitchen. I tucked a hand under my shirt to feel that yes, my diaper was still actually dry. I still missed my big wet diaper, but this felt good too. Like a full tank of gas. Like a newly washed car, complete with its own new smell of plastic and powder and lavender lotion. Like a brain that was freshly snoozed, with no weblike gunk between the ears, ready to think big smart thoughts through the whole day.. I leaned across the counter with both hands to grab two apples. Carliah Garcia is not someone blessed with hands big enough to hold two apples in one hand at the same time. Perhaps it was the way my tummy contorted against the marble countertop. Maybe it was my movement, or perhaps the prospect of food. Food is always a catalyst; mealtime becomes change-time. I'm rarely in a state to order dessert, if you know what I mean. Sometimes the check can't come soon enough. But today, all I needed was to reach for two apples. And then that new car smell was gone. It hit my diaper in a flash. Like someone had pulled open the back and dropped a fist-sized rock right into the seat. Pee surged out too, as if it had been waiting for the time to strike. It came out with a fart too. Daddy looked up at me. He had a big mouthful of toast. "Everything okay, honey?" I knew I was blushing. I knew he could probably hear what had happened too. I stood there, arms outstretched, with two apples. "Carliah?" "Should I wash the apples?" I asked. Daddy smiled. "Yes Carliah, of course. Just a quick rinse. But you don't have to cut them up." "Okay!" I said, inflecting my voice as positively as I could to avoid my embarrassment. And disappointment. I had just convinced myself that my clean diaper was cozy. I did as I was told for the apples. I did not do as I was told earlier about my accident. About how it was getting warmer and I needed to be responsible. Instead, I sat down on the couch. I'll tell you that as soon as I did, I was no longer sad that I'd ruined a clean diaper. It felt good. It wouldn't last long, of course, Daddy was right there and would smell it, surely. Honestly, it was a perfect diaper. Not enough pee or poop to leak, but just enough that I couldn't forget it. You could say that an incontinent lass like me has developed her own, refined tastes. I'd really be like this all day every day if I could. With every bite of my toast I wormed my but into the couch a little more, squishing it further. If Daddy wasn't there, I'd make rubbies for sure. But he wouldn't allow it. He wasn't cross, but he was more in the mood for a lecture than indulgence. I expected him to give me a lecture about how I was supposed to get used to changing it myself this summer when he caught me. But he didn't catch me. We finished our breakfasts. He got on his phone and read emails or texts, I couldn't tell which. When I was done eating, he took our plates away. While he was in the kitchen I snuck a few rubbies in. Just a little. When I heard his footsteps again I stopped quickly, but the feeling was too good. I brought my heel against the crotch of my diaper and dug it in. I examined my split ends while gently rocking on my foot. I assumed it was change-time when he came by to kiss me on the head, but once again, he didn't lift my shirt and he did not begin to sniff around. Instead, he went back upstairs to get ready for work. I watched him disappear. Then I mounted the couch's armrest. I rode it almost all the way until I had an orgasm. But Daddy's feet appeared at the top of the stairs and I had to throw myself off on the couch. My diaper didn't feel so good anymore; the motion on the couch had distended and mushed it further. But I figured Daddy was taking me up to the bed and towel in just a moment, so it didn't matter. "Watcha doing?" he asked. He stopped beside the couch. He could probably see my diaper, but it didn't matter now. I was kinda hoping for that change. "Nothin. Still sleepy." "Okay. You'll remember to look at the chore list we made last night, right?" "Yes Daddy." "And I'll be home for lunch, as usual." "Yes Daddy." He took a step around the couch. I was sure he was going to lift his shirt off of me and patt my bum. But he didn't. He pulled my hair aside and gave me a big wet kiss on the cheek. "Anything else, honey?" "Hm?" "Are you all good?" I don't know how long it took me to respond. It felt like forever. But since he gave me another kiss, it couldn't have been that long. "I'm good, Daddy," I said. And then he turned and left out the door, smiling at me as he shut it and locked it behind him. To say that I was quite in shock was an understatement. Sure, the poop in my diaper wasn't the biggest ever, but it wasn't nothing. It was definitely poop and there was no way that Daddy would have missed it. It had been almost an hour since he'd grabbed my wrist beside the bed too, and he always checks me more than that. And then I realized that he knew. Of course he knew. And I lied. And he knew I lied. I ran upstairs and got my phone. It was a weird feeling, to move quickly with that much stuff smushed in there, but trust me, I've felt weirder. I found my phone under the covers and texted him. "Daddy," I wrote. "I messed up." "I just thought you were going to change it yourself." "But it's messsyyyyyyy," she said. "I think you can handle it." "Daddy!" "Daddy what?" "Daddy please?" Daddy came back in and marched up the stairs. I got the towel out for him, as well as the wipes and a new diaper. He put the diaper back in the drawer and procured a thinner one. "I want a thick diaper," I said, sucking my thumb. He batted my hand away. There was no time to find a pacifier, but he did scan the bed for one closeby anyway. "You're going to get a thinner diaper. If you leak, you're in trouble." "But I have to wait until you get home for lunch!" "Only if you don't change it yourself." There was no more discussion. I submitted to his wipes. He told me he was disappointed that I lied, and that we'd have a discussion about it later. He also reminded me of how much cream he'd needed to use last summer, and how much I whined about the rash. I took it all in silence. Soon enough, I was back in a thin diaper and alone until lunch. I was clean. I know what you'll think about this next part. You're going to say...Carliah, that's not real. You're going to say, Carliah, you're only five-foot-two. You didn't have steak and bloody marys, you didn't eat a whole damn piggy for dinner the night before. You even pooped twice yesterday – once around breakfastime, and once right after Daddy put you in a diaper after your shower (because that's how it goes sometimes). You might say, well... maybe this part is reasonable. Maybe it wasn't that much today, at breakfast, and maybe it wasn't that bad overnight too. Your Daddy wasn't late for work and didn't lose that much sleep, so maybe what happened next was not just reasonable, but predictable. All I can tell you is that I'm too little to know for sure. I don't know where the best place on the beach is to build a sandcastle. I don't, at the drop of a hat, know where the best gas station is to fill up a car in the city. I haven't, in fact, memorized the decision tree in the picture book so as to avoid all of the trap doors to an OOPSIE outcome. I'm a baby and shit happens. In fact, my opinion was that I was in the clear. I had, after all, filled my diapers quite hard that morning. Things were moving, and likely had moved. Prospects were as good as any. Chance of showers: minimal. Tornado warning? Pssh. Carliah was smooth sailing. Did Daddy give me a thinner diaper? Sure. Was I in trouble? Yeah, I was in trouble. But Daddy might forget. And Daddy didn't know that I'd got 95% of the way to orgasm on the couch. No permission. So I dodged most of the trouble anyway. The chores I had to do involved some errands. Cucumbers, more hand soap, more buttcream (always embarrassing to buy). Go to FedEX to get some postal thingy printed. Go pick out a card for Daddy's sister's birthday. There were other things. Phone calls about the house I had to make. And he wanted me to do some research on a vacation for the summer. But I figured that since my diaper was clean and dry, and thin to boot, and because the messes had just happened, that the best time of any to get out and about was right away. I said before I was bad at being incontinent. That I run on fumes. Honestly I don't know what else I could have done. Sometimes you're just toast. I took an Uber to the farthest place, which was the FedEx store. I got that taken care of, but while I was waiting I did a self check and rats, I was peed. Not too bad. I checked my bag just in case, and saw that I hadn't brought a diaper change. This didn't worry me. I often do that. Daddy never takes me out without one, but I often dip out without a dip. Especially on days like this, when the pee and poop came with the early birds. I went to a Hallmark to get a card. I started to feel something. It can sometimes be like that. Usually it's more like it was when I was grabbing the apples. When I have no idea I'm about to mess until it's in the diaper and still coming out. Sometimes, though, I get a tease. And sometimes it's a lie. I can't tell you how many diapers I've ruined going to the potty at the slightest feeling down there. It turns out to just be my period or my tummy or just, idk, the weird feelings you get just cause you're old. Or horniess. I've legitimately mistaken the feral need to fuck, so serious and debilitating that it feels like anxiety or a cramp, and sat on the potty because of it. I don't really know. Maybe it's just because I've had so little success pooping on the potty that I just don't know what normal, potty trained people feel like when they have to go. I think it's supposed to feel like what it feels like when a cock is coming out of your ass. Sorry. I know those of you anal fuckers probably think of it the other way. That a slipping cock feels like shitting. But I associate these things the opposite way, for obvious reasons. So I had a feeling. I thought it was horniness or the eggs. I suppose since I have ovaries, those two concepts aren't so different. I picked out a card without too much worry. I even squatted down to inspect the lowest ledge in the display. I worried more about the waistband of my pants and the sound of the crinkles than what was going on in my tum-tum. The feeling came and went, came and went. I trickled pee into the diaper, as usual, but nothing really progressed on the other end. In retrospect, I have to be a toddler – at best – to not have realized what was coming. Sometimes context, such as my messy morning, can be deceptive. Sometimes it might be better to think less, to understand less. My bottom made the need abundantly clear as I was about two back in the line to check out at Hallmark. It surged all of a sudden, like snow suddenly breaking off a roof. Like when you tip the cereal box too far to one side and the log jam breaks and the Lucky Charms all come cascading out. It was lucky. It was a miracle I caught it and clenched at all. More pee came out but I held my bum tight. I bit my lip and almost bent in half the card I wanted to buy. I looked behind me and saw a yoga mom idling through her phone, blissfully unaware of the jeopardy my diaper was in. I looked ahead, and an older lady was paying for her card in cash. Worse, she was paying not just in cash, but in exact cash. A coin rolled off the table onto the floor and the old lady looked at it wearily until the patron behind her stepped forward to pick it up. The situation was laughably hopeless. I almost laughed. There was no way I was paying without losing control. Daddy is gonna get hard when he hears about this. I thought about the edge of the couch, but I remembered that the diaper he gave me was small. And it wasn't close to lunch. And I was over a mile from home. It was getting warm. I still had chores to do. The feeling was a bit like trying to balance a basketball on your index finger. Drop it and...boom. Specifically, the feeling was a bit like trying to balance a basketball on your finger when you've never actually successfully balanced it before. So yeah. All it took was someone bursting through the automatic doors to make me drop the ball. They came in, turned, and shouted at someone idling in a car outside. Like any normal human being, I turned my head to see what was happening. I pooped my diaper for the third time since midnight. A man stepped up to counter and waved me over. "I can help you at this register, ma'am." The old lady was gone. It was still coming. I walked over. "Can you give it to me so I can scan it?" he asked me. Still coming. "Oh, yeah." The yoga mom was behind me. Really closely for some reason. "Cash or credit?" It's like my diaper is growing a rudder. "Credit." "Okay, whenever you're ready." Still coming. Right? No, all done. Oh. Wait. Definitely still coming. "You can remove your card, ma'am." Ma'am! Ha! No. No I'm never going to be a ma'am. I walked home. It felt too disrespectful to get into an uber. I carried my printout from FedEx and my Hallmark card and I passed right by the grocery store. I'd do those chores later. I texted Daddy, but he was busy and did not reply. Daddy was right, it was getting warm. The sun was beating down on me and my bloated diaper. I tried to stand away from people at crosswalks, but they didn't know to avoid me and found their way beside me more than usual. I hoped that the wind would waft my scent away. Or that they'd blame it on a dog or the sewer. I couldn't decide whether to hurry or go slow. I wanted to get home as fast as possible, but I also didn't want to pass in front of other pedestrians. I preferred to let them pass me. But there were always more coming out of shops and around corners. Walking fast meant it squished more. Walking slow meant I was in the hot sun longer. About halfway home I was sweating so much I was sure I was leaking. The mess in my diaper seemed to heat up my groin until it almost became claustrophobic. I realized that I was waddling and tried to correct my gait, but after a few blocks I gave up. I realized that when I got home, I had nowhere to go. I still had chores around the house. But what was I going to do? Stay standing the whole time until Daddy came home? Or sit down in this hot mess? I wanted Daddy! I texted him again. No reply. Someone bumped into me and I bit my lip. Was it possible to run away from my own butt? "Daddy I'll be in all the trouble in the world but you have to meet me at home now and change my diaper!" "I'll do no cummies for a week! I'll let you spank me bunches and bunches. But I need a new diaper soooooo bad." Finally I made it home. A part of me was mad at Daddy. Still no reply! I took off all my clothes and checked my pants to see if there had been a leak. There wasn't. I looked in the mirror and got turned on and I hated it. There was no Daddy to do anything about it and I'd ruin the couch if I did my favorite thing again. Gahh! Daddy called me. "Daddy!" I yelled into the phone. "Are you home?" "No." "Are you coming home?" "Carliah. I stepped outside. Carliah. No. Please listen. You have to do it." "You don't understand I had a..." "Carliah..." "Daddy PLEASE!" "Carliah, let me talk. Or it really will be big trouble. Do you understand?" "Yes Daddy." "You've done it yourself for years. You know many people who do it themselves. You have incontinent friends who change it themselves. You can do it too. I know you can." "But Daddy I have you!" "Mhm. And you also have trouble." "That's good I understand any kind of trouble but..." "This is the trouble. The kind of trouble involved in growing up. You're changing it yourself, Carliah. No, I know you made a big mess. Of course I love you. But I'm not coming home from lunch. Do you understand? Carliah? Carliah?" *** Peter arrived home at approximately six in the evening. He hadn't heard a peep from Carliah all day since she hung up the phone. He wasn't mad. No, far from it. He was curious. He didn't mind that she probably resented him, and that it would be absurd for her to resent him. After all, him making a twenty minute drive to wipe her butt, wolf down lunch, and drive back to work every day was a bit absurd. It was just so hot. It pained him not to do it. He really did like that he always changed her. She was so...dependent that way. But it was unsustainable. Both time wise and health wise. She needed to relearn the responsibility to clean up her own messes now and then. Not always, but often. He would have work trips. He would leave her on her own. She would need to deal with it. What was he saying? Carliah was over thirty. Carliah was fine. Carliah was getting spanked big time. She was getting soaped and he was going to make her use her mouth to great lengths to apologize to him. So he opened the door with a devilish grin. What he saw made his jaw drop. There was Carliah, her breasts out, her face panting and delirious. Her long dark hair was disheveled. She was wearing nothing but one sock and a diaper. Not even a bra. Her glasses were hung down to the very edge of her nose, and it hardly seemed to matter because her eyes were glazed and cross eyed. "Carliah!" She was perched atop the armrest of the couch. On foot on the couch, the other hanging off. Both hands pressed against her crotch. Sweat dripped down and Peter noticed her hair was stuck to her face. His eyes, stuck for a little while on her erect, raw nipples, made their way down to her hands. She had changed her diaper. No...she hadn't. He looked closer at the waistband. The waistbands. The many, many, many waistbands upon waistbands. "Carliah..." Carliah didn't acknowledge him. She rocked back and forth. What he smelled made his eyes go wide. Peter pushed through it and stepped up to the edge of the couch. Carliah was almost taller this way. She rocked back and forth, the massive balloon of plastic around her waist squeaking and crinkling as she moved. He closed his eyes and kissed her. Her mouth and breath were warm. "Daddy," she whispered, almost as quiet as a breath. She cracked a weak, delirious smile. Like she knew what was about to happen to her. Like she understood that the only place deeper and more full of poop than the septupled diaper she was wearing was the hole of trouble she'd just landed in. "I put new diapers on, Daddy. Like you said. Am I a good baby?" "You are...a baby," he told her.
  2. I believe I started another thread on this, I couldn’t find it. I’m starting a new one as I would say I’m actively training for complete diaper dependency (probably already diaper dependent, but never actually trained). I figured I should add to the collective knowledge of this lifestyle. 💚🖍🧸🛁⏱🏔 Backstory: I’m male, mid 40s, average build, business owner, former entertainer, canadian, active life style, in a committed ABDL aware relationship (yes, she interacts 🥰), grew up ABDL with minor minor fecal incontinence incontinence issues growing up. That’s the quick version, . I’ve been a member of this site since the long ago times. I’ll start this journey around my late 20s when I found out I had IBS. At the time my IBS issues were minor and didn’t require a diaper and a pad would be enough for the issues. Didnt have any urinary issues. Life happened, I was a performer for a while and my drug of choice was Ketamine, be careful kids. Who knew these things would result in my need for diapers. The journey started about 11 years ago in my early 30s. I would go through periods of wear diapers 24/7. Sometimes it was for a couple of days, a week, or weeks. This went on for a few years, then one morning, while living in a cabin I had to poop, really bad, I ran down the stairs and soiled my self fully. While cleaning up I contemplated why not just wear diapers all the time. I even have a post around 2013 talking about my conflict. This would remain for a few more years. About 7years ago, I had reached a place where my fecal incontinence had reached an uncomfortable level and I went back into diapees 24/7. FTR, I’m not a purest and have worn underwear from time to time… until recently. A couple of years ago I stop caring about using a potty, I just started using my diapee to pee in when nature called. Sometimes I would hold it if I knew I could change or something. I wasn’t actively training to be diaper dependent, it was more that I just didn’t care to go through the effort of removing my diaper. Which has brought us to the present. Where I am at. In the last year it’s been noted on my chart that i have urge incontinence, both fecal and urinary. I’ve been prescribed diapers. I’ve recently had test on my urinary system and have been told nothing found, however, I am not emptying my bladder completely and it’s causing issues. The doctor also believes because of my ketamine usage I have cause urinary incontinence issues, that can’t be resolved. I’ve also been told I’m not drinking enough water. What’s really funny is my doctor has prescribed tamsulosin to help me empty my bladder, the side effect it’s having is it’s causing me to have stress incontinence, as it cause muscles relaxation in the prostate. As such, I figure, why bother holding it!? I was having urge issues so now I’m just letting go when the urge is there. So I have started this thread to document my experience. As I was already kinda training, but now I’m actively training to be diaper dependent. I’ve been on that medication for the last 5 days and am curious where I end up a year down the road. I’m also scheduled for pelvic physio in early December, I’m noticed I have issues relaxing that muscle and well be guided through various technics to relax the pelvic muscles. Thank you for reading, Munkey
  3. I'm 19 and still living with my mom I have cloth reusable diapers and plastic pants as well as regular disposable diapers I mainly use my cloth ones considering the cost of regular diapers. Though it's annoying not having a washer and dryer so I wash them by hand, but I want to be unpotty trained I don't know how I should go about it. I wouldn't mind if anyone also had tips for cloth diaper wearing.
  4. 21-year-old Jillian Jenners is down on her luck and accepts her younger twin sister Jennifer's invitation to stay with her at her cozy three-bedroom apartment in Philadelphia. Having just finished college and earned her degree, Jillian is still jobless and desperate to find a new start in her life. When Jillian begins to have her nighttime accidents, she turns to diapers as a solution to her embarrassing problem. A new opportunity presents itself when Jillian discovers the world of streaming and begins to build a sizable following. When a "wardrobe malfunction" happens during one of her streams, it further boosts her fame in the streaming community. Does Jillian keep wearing diapers to please her fans, or does she stop altogether? And what part does her twin sister Jennifer have in this whole story? Find out in this original tale of discovery, acceptance, and, of course, diapers. Foreward: The JJ Diaper Twins - How it all Started Hi! First of all, thank you very much for purchasing our book! I am Jillian Jenners (but you knew that already!). I am sure that you are all very much aware of me and my sister Jen. Whether you stumbled across our YouTube channel, our Tiktok, found us on Instagram, our Facebook page, X (twitter), JustForFans, or happened to catch one of our many exciting Twitch streams, you all know us as the JJ Diaper Twins. The two J’s consist of me, Jillian Jenners and of course my identical twin sister Jennifer Jenners. We are basically diapered celebrities and have even caught attention of the mainstream media. But how did it all start? That is just what this book is going to tell you. Consider this book as a biography of the lives of me and my twin sister getting our exciting start in the city of brotherly love: Philadelphia. Home of those delicious cheesesteaks, tastykakes, and tomato pies. My aim for this book is to very clearly tell all of you my story and how the JJ Diaper Twins even became a thing in the first place. Now, I am sure that some of you will want to come and bother us with requests to be our caregivers. Just to be up front, both I and Jen are already taken. We will take no requests, but feel free to support us on our Crowdfunder (the very reason why this book exists) or buy our branded pacifiers, bottles, bibs, blankets, stuffys, and clothing made for every one of you JJ Littles. We have footed sleepers, onesies, cute frilly dresses and skirts, shortalls, socks, changing mats, plastic pants, and even our very own line of diapers coming very soon! The JJ Cozy Crinklez (coming soon!) will be the comfiest, most absorbent diaper on the ABDL market. We assure you that these diapers are able to handle the most destructive floods that you can unleash on them. My sister and I agree that these diapers are the best ones that we have ever worn (and believe me, we have tried them all!). Keep supporting us through your donations as each donation helps to keep the cost of these diapers affordable and competitive with the other brands. We are working on getting proper supply channels so that you won’t be waiting too long for your next exciting order. The JJ Nighty Nites are just a little more absorbent and can handle the heaviest of your overnight super soakings. Jen and I have tried them a number of times before bed and we both agree that there has yet to be a leaky diaper. We are both excited to bring this new addition to our J&J Merchandise. We are also working on a documentary and our first show on CuriosityStream, so be on the lookout for that. Why CuriosityStream? This platform will grant us greater freedom to tell our story to all of you JJ Littles, without the restrictions that YouTube would place on us. Besides our current projects, I will get back to the most current project that we have just recently completed: this book. Both Jen and I would like to thank you for all your help and support for without it, we wouldn’t be the JJ Diaper Twins that you know and love today. Now, how will this book be structured? To get the full story, both Jen and I have devoted sections to this book to each tell our own story of how this all started. It’s a crazy story, but every bit of it is true. My story will be told first in “Jillian’s Story” so I would recommend starting with that one. Following that one will be “Jennifer’s Story” and everything there will be told from her point of view. The next section of this book will contain a thank you message from my twin sister, so don’t forget to read that before you get to the table of contents! This whole book has been a labor of love and we devote this book to every one of you who purchased it. So to all my JJ Littles out there, stay diapered! Live full, laugh long, play strong! Love You Always, Jillian Jenners July 21, 2028 Foreward: A Very Special Thankies to All of You! Hi hi everyone! I’m sure that you have all read my twin sister’s previous section. Knowing (and trusting) that you have, you know that we are both very excited that you have picked up this book to hear the full story of how Jill and I became the JJ Diaper Twins that you know and love today. So thankies very muchies for all your help and support! Prior to my sister Jill’s meteoric rise to fame, I was a CPA working at one of the leading CPA firms in Philadelphia: Conway, Phillips, & Associates. Prior to Jill’s fame, I provided her with a place to stay at my apartment. You all know the rest of the story, but the purpose of this book is to fill in all of those details in between my sister’s anonymity and our now shared fame that is celebrated by all the JJ Littles. I will be honest, everyone. I at first was hesitant to follow in my sister’s footsteps. Due to the stigma of this kind of lifestyle, I wasn’t at all comfortable to join my sister in all the facets of her lifestyle of infantilism. But after seeing all the benefits that she reaped and seeing the endless stress and anxiety that came from the continual demands of my CPA firm, the initial experience that I had with diapers proved cathartic to me. How did I go from my insistent reluctance to join my sister to combining with my sister to become one of the biggest names in the ABDL community? That is the purpose of this book. I will not reveal anymore, as you will have to read my side of the story (Jennifer’s Story) to get all of the replete details recounting the genesis of the protection that “changed” my life. I will be honest again. As a result of taking that padded red pill, it has cost me relationships that I will never be able to rekindle again. But as a result, I have a wonderful and supportive community of the most caring and loving people that I have ever met. At every meet and greet, you all have never ceased to amaze me with your kindness and support. My sister has already detailed you on our future projects, so that redundancy will be avoided here. Just know that we have both mutually discussed every project together and I (thanks to my stellar financial background) have reviewed everything financially before moving forward with each project. Each project benefits all of you, and is FOR every one of you lovely littles. As is this book that you are now holding. Consider this miniature tome a passion project conceived by both I and my twin sister (who I love with all my heart) Jill. We want to share with you the story on how we both became the JJ Diaper Twins. How we can now wear our diapers proudly everyday and help out our ever-growing family of JJ Littles. To satiate your curiosity, yes. Both Jill and I are fully diaper dependent now with no sign of ever returning to urinary or fecal continence. Also (as she already told you), we already both have wonderful caregivers that are sweet and wonderful to both of us. With that knowledge in your possession, please refrain from making any solicitations to be our caregivers. You are all a wonderful community and neither of us could’ve ever made it this far without all of you. To address the needs of both Little and Caregiver alike, my sister and I are in the process of creating a network to match you JJ Littles to a wonderful caregiver that will care for all of your needs. We want it to be a good system so we are taking our time on it. Please be patient. Whether you’re the little or the caregiver. Please be patient. Again I would like to say thankies very muchies to all of you! The movement that my sister started has allowed me to discover and fully embrace my inner little. A side of me that I prefer to keep mostly private, but for your sake show it every now and then. Remember. Littlespace is nothing to be ashamed of. It is therapy for every one of us to escape from the overwhelming difficulties and challenges of everyday life. Love every moment of that littlespace, but take care of those adult things that need to get done (ESPECIALLY if you don’t have a caregiver!) Well, my sister and I need to get this final draft to the publisher so all of you can see our curious and interesting tale from full anonymity to full blown ABDL stardom. It’s surprising, embarrassing, exciting, and rewarding. This experience has taught me so much, and I hope that it will teach all of you as well. I will close with the closing that both Jill and I use to close out our Twitch Streams that served as a foundation of Jill’s career: Live full, laugh long, play strong! Stay diapered, all you JJ Little besties! Love You All Sincerely, Jennifer Jenners July 21, 2028 I. Jillian's Story Chapter 1 : Down on my Luck Hi! I know that all of you already know who I am, but here it goes. In case any of you just skipped the introduction or for some reason have not heard of me yet, I will tell you again. My name is Jillian Marie Jenners. And before you’re left wondering, yes. The same Jillian Jenners that’s part of the Jenners Twins, or the nickname that’s more familiar in the community: the JJ Diaper Twins. I’m the one “J” and my twin sister Jennifer is the other “J”. We are identical twins, but we couldn’t be anymore different! Yes, we shared the same egg and womb at birth, but that is where the similarities end. And to address your comments on the tabloids and fake news, don’t believe any of the fake stories that the media conjures about us. None of it is true (as I’m sure that all of you already know). Their agenda is solely there to silence us and our cause. A cause that they for some reason see as a threat to their agenda. What? Do they not want us to share the spotlight with the other celebrities? It’s clear that the Hollywood Elites write all the rules of who stays and who goes in Hollywood and it’s very clear to them that a pair of ABDL twins are not allowed to have any of the spotlight as they want it all to themselves. What gives them the audacity to try to silence or cancel emerging icons representing a cause that they don’t even understand? They don’t want to, so they’ll make up fake stories to keep us from becoming stars. Well you know what, Hollywood? Your attempts are not working. Our movement is stronger than ever, and it’s about to tear down the walls of your Elitest club of yours. But anyway, I digress. Now for the most intense burning question that any of you ever gave me. And believe me. I hear this one every time when I stream with my twin to this day: “How did you and Jenny become the JJ Diaper Twins?” I get this question every single stream. Every. Single. Stream. Well, question no more my fellow JJ Little Besties! I am about to tell you everything. How my life was changed forever. How my sister’s video game console launched my career. How an embarrassing accident and mishap during a stream transformed my career. All of you are responsible for making my career the success that it is, and I thank every one of you. Now after I tell you everything, please help the mods in answering the question. All of you will have the answer now, and you’ll be able to share it with every person that doesn’t know about this story yet. So, you wanna know how Jillian Jenners (that’s ME!) went from a nobody to a big YouTuber and streaming celebrity? Hang on to your diapys (and make sure it’s a fresh one) and listen to my story. This is my humble beginning and I hope that it can inspire you from wherever you are to achieve your dreams and aim for the very best. How did I get into wearing diapers in the first place? To answer that question, we have to go all the way back to June of 2023. Yes. Five years to get to the very beginning. I was a fresh college graduate from Cleveland State University while my twin sister chose Penn State to get her Master’s Degree in Accounting and earn her CPA. Yes, we went to different schools. As I said earlier, we may be identical but we couldn’t be more different! It was only one month since I graduated. But since my sister was in an accelerated program (that, and she used all her free time to take extra classes), she graduated one year ahead of me and went on to earn her CPA license. She just celebrated her fourth month at Conway, Phillips, & Associates (one of the leading accounting firms in Philadelphia where she lives now). What was I doing? I was starving. My emergency fund was starting to dry up. My sister’s numerous scholarships (plus her firm paying for her Masters Degree while she interned there) got her a full ride through all of her college education. On the other hand, I was sacked with debt from the Bachelor’s of Science Degree in Communication that was doing nothing for me at the time. And my parents couldn’t help me with my schooling either since my sister and I came from a poor family. I mean, $145,000 in college debt? Everyone, all I did was cry that entire month after I graduated. Failed interview after failed interview. My grades were really good, but the market was competitive. Who would hire me as a news anchor when so many other candidates had better qualifications than me? Wasn’t the news station that I interned at in Cleveland good enough for all of you? Well laugh it up, because my sister and I are making more than all of you now! Five figures? Try seven! But seriously. The economic times were really tough in 2023 (and they still are now in 2028). After spending a solid month of dried-up job leads, failed interviews, and zero job offers, I drowned my sorrows with a pint of Mint Chocolate chip ice cream. It was my guilty pleasure, but the refreshing mint at least tried to sweeten my rotten month of failed prospects. I was crying in the kitchen halfway through my pity pint of minty goodness. “You still crying, Jill pill?” My roommate Natasha asked me. What else could I do? Everything that I tried led to a dead end. And now, I was about to run out of money… “Yes, I’m still crying!” I told her. “You would be too if you had over $100,000 in unpaid college debt and no job prospects…” Natasha placed her hand on my shoulder. I didn’t know why she did this, as it DEFINITELY didn’t make things any better. “Jill? I know that you’re going through a rough patch right now. I know that I can’t do much to help you, but do you have anyone else that can help?” I sighed as I repeated the question in my mind over and over. “Well, I know that my parents can’t help me,” I told her matter-of-factly. “I already told you that they’re poor. My sister on the other hand is in Philly, rolling in money from her CPA job…” “Just ask your sister!” Natasha told me. I ignored her and dug up another generous scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream. I shoved the heaping spoonful into my mouth in my futile attempt to numb the pain of my miserable existence. Why did I ever go to school to be a news anchor? Who would ever want to hear a loser like me? Besides, most of the candidates that got the job were men. So much for gender equality… The explosion of sweet mintiness filled my mouth and I quickly swallowed it. “My sister?” I said in a forlorn sigh. “She’s got her own life now! What would she want with me?” That’s when I heard a knock at the door. “Miss Jenners!” the voice boomed, sounding like a crotchety old lady. It was the landlady. My rent was due. Aw shoot! I thought I already paid it! I KNOW I did last month! “Your rent is due, miss!” the voice repeated. “$950! Do you have it?” I opened the door and sighed. “Mrs. Steinbeck, just one second…” I woke up my cell phone and opened my banking app. I checked the balance and my heart sank. $20.89. I only had $20.89 in my account! “Well, I do have $20.89…” I told the landlady, my sheepish voice beginning to choke. The landlady shook her head. “Cash dear. I need it all in cash. You have until tomorrow night to give me the money. Give me it or you will be evicted. I will seize all your property as collateral and will return it once the rent is paid in full. I WILL do this if you don’t have the rent tomorrow. Do I make myself clear, Miss Jenners?” “Crystal…” I choked. The landlady slowly but firmly closed the door. I then started crying again. Natasha looked at me and sighed. “Girl, I can give you $100, but I still need to pay for my half.” I half smiled when I heard her say “girl”. This was a Natashaism and her favorite word to use before beginning a sentence. I guess it’s more common with her being from the Dallas-Fort Worth Area of Texas. I have nothing against any of you Texans (your accent is AMAZING!). It’s just that my accent is very boring compared to yours. And Natasha’s accent was Texas Golden. I grabbed my pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream (which was now starting to turn into a melty mess) and began to shovel the next melty mouthful. Natasha opened her purse and pulled out five 20-dollar bills. She firmly placed the money in my hand and gestured me to place my spoon down. “Set your ice cream down and look at me.” Natasha said firmly. “Both eyes, Jill…” I fixed my gaze on Natasha and ran my fingers through my brown hair. Okay. I’m staring at her. What now? “And stop playing with your hair!” she ordered. “I need you to act like a proper lady.” Proper? Lady? What is this, finishing school? I let go of my hair and sighed, placing both hands to my side. “Okay. No nervous fidgets or stims. What?” Natasha smiled, happy that I have her undivided attention. “Take the money. You need it, girl…” There she goes with that “girl”, again! Even after a year of living with her, I’m still not quite used to it… “Now,” Natasha continued. “You told me that your sister is ‘rolling in money from her CPA job’…Why don’t you just ask her for help? She’s your sister and I’m sure that she would love to help you if she knew that you were in need. She seems like a pretty cool girl, too. I saw you two at graduation…” “Yeah,” I muttered. “She visited me a month ago to watch me graduate. At least my parents congratulated me over the phone…” Natasha nodded. “She seemed pretty nice, though. You’re both twins, right? You get along with her?” I slowly nodded. “Yeah. We both grew up together! Then we grew apart during college…” “But she visited you! Your sister actually cared enough to fly from Philadelphia all the way to Cleveland to watch you graduate. Girl, don’t you think she still cares?” I folded the $100 and stuffed it in my pocket of my grey jogging pants. I then shoved another now liquidy spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream in my mouth. “My sister only did that as a polite gesture,” I told her. “If she really cared, wouldn’t she check in on me now and then?” Before I could even finish saying the word “then”, my cell phone vibrated with the song “Shallow” playing. (This song was both I and my sister’s favorite song in high school) The caller ID read “Jen” with a picture of her happily smiling below it. At this moment, I totally lost it. I began crying again. Knowing that my sister has heard me cry many times, I answered the phone. “Hello?” “Are you crying again?” Jen asked me. “I just wanted to check in on you since it’s been a couple weeks now. Now what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” I sighed. “I thought that you didn’t care! Didn’t you just visit me as a polite gesture?” “Aw Jill…” she said in a voice that seemed to explode with sympathy. “You know that my level of concern for you far exceeds what you may think it does. Now I visited you last month because I love my twin sister and that’s what loving sisters are supposed to do.” “Why didn’t mom and dad come to the graduation?” I asked her. “Jill, we already discussed this. They didn’t want to come to your graduation. They didn’t come to mine either. I offered to pay both times, but they refused my offer. I don’t know what they have against either of us. Despite that being the case, we have to love them back. After all, they were the ones that raised us!” I sighed. “I think it’s the money…We’ve always been poor…” “But look at us, Jill! We both have college degrees and I am now on my fourth month at an amazing accounting firm.” “So you’re just going to gloat about your new job? Jen, I thought you were going to check up on me!” Natasha gasped and left the room. I guess she wanted to give my sister and I some privacy. Thanks I guess? “Jill, I am not gloating. I am very happy about the success that I achieved. And I want you to be happy about your success too! You graduated Magna Cum Laude from Cleveland State University!” “Sis, you graduated Summa Cum Laude! A year ahead of me with a Masters that your cushy accounting firm paid for. That same firm that you interned at! And now you got a cushy job there! Meanwhile, I am having failed interview after failed interview. They are favoring men over me! I guess an anchorMAN is better than an anchorwoman, huh? I thought we were past all the sexist crap…Besides…” I lost it again and burst into tears. “Jill, you’re crying again! What is pulling you into despair?” “What is pulling me, Jen? I’ll tell you!” I raised my voice. “My landlord…um lady…knocked on the door and wanted the rent tonight. I thought that I paid it! But it looks like that I didn’t. $950! I checked my banking app. All that I had was $20.89. She didn’t want it. She wanted it all in cash. Now if I don’t give her the money tomorrow, she will evict me and seize all the belongings in my apartment. She will only return them once I pay the rent in full. So go back to your perfect life!” “Perfect? Jill, you have no idea of the tribulations that I experienced today. Work was very stressful…” “Work? It must be a lot of stress to make all that money…” I sarcastically retorted. “You’re absolutely right Jill! It is! Now, I had no idea of the financial turmoil that you’re going through. And before you reiterate your crackpot sexist theory back to me, I have the perfect rebuttal. On four out of the five local news channels that I perused, I saw women news anchors. Not men, Jill. Women! You need to come out here, Jill. The northeast is more progressive and liberal. They don’t see any glass ceiling for us. Plus, most of the CPA’s that I work with are women. There are a few men in our group, though.” “So, how do you propose I come out?” I whined. “Earth to Jen! I’m broke! I have $145,000 in college debt and owe the landlady $950. How do you expect me to come out there with a plane ticket to move to Philadelphia. And the other problem would be a place to stay. Now, where would I stay.” “Jill, you would stay with me! My apartment is a 3 bedroom. I’m not using the other two rooms for anything. They are still empty. Okay. Not quite. Just a few of my extra belongings…I will take you in. You need to get out of Cleveland!” I sighed as I looked at the Mint Chocolate chip ice cream. “Just two more problems, Jen. One: my rent. And two: a plane ticket to Philadelphia? Now my roommate had pity on me and gave me $100, but that’s not going to be enough for either expense.” “Jill, just let me help you! I will pay for your rent and your plane ticket. I will buy a round trip ticket for me and a one-way ticket for you. You’re going to get a job out here, Jilly Bean. I will be out tomorrow afternoon, with $950 to pay your landlady for another month. Sound good?” I was now crying my eyes out. I never knew that my sister could be so loving and kind! “Oh, thank you!” I joyfully weeped. “You don’t know how much this means to me…” “Oh, but I do Jill!” Jen told me. “I’m your twin sister, remember? We’re two halves of one whole. I could feel that something was wrong with you tonight before I called you. That’s a twin thing. It’s like having a best friend, only waaaaaay better…See you tomorrow! Love you!” “Love you, too.” I told her. The call ended and I wiped the rest of the remaining tears out of my eyes. I then guzzled the rest of the thick and syrupy mint chocolate chip ice cream liquid and wiped off the sticky residue with my hands. Natasha came out of her room and smiled. “I heard some of the conversation but not all of it. Now girl, look at me again…” Well, I’m in a better mood now. So okay…I looked at Natasha and stared at her. “Yes Natasha?” “I was right!” she told me. “Your twin sister really does care about you and love you! And she just proved it!” She then proceeded to pat me on the shoulder. “It looks like the good Lord is looking out for you…” I shrugged my shoulders. I guess he is…I dug into my jogging pants pocket and pulled out the $100. “Do you need this back? My sister is paying my rent tomorrow and taking me to Philadelphia to live with her.” “Keep it!” Natasha pleaded. “It’s the least that I can do in your situation. Now, are you just going to have ice cream for dinner? I can order us some food. You don’t have to pay me. I got this, girl…” I nodded. “Thanks Natasha.” The rest of the evening was okay. Natasha ordered a pizza with my favorite toppings. They happened to be her favorites, too. Either that, or she was just being nice. A supreme pizza cooked to perfection. We were both so hungry that we ate all but two slices. As I was finishing my last slice, Natasha gave me that stare again, so I stared back. “Jill,” she addressed me. “Or Jillian?” “Only my mom calls me that,” I sighed. “Jill is fine…” “Jill then…” Natasha continued. “It was very nice having you as a roommate. Granted we were busy and we didn’t see a lot of each other, but I wish you the best. I have an interview in Columbus next week and if I get the job, I’m moving down to Columbus. This apartment will be vacant again. You will have to sign a release and pay another fee to get out of your lease early. I believe that our lease doesn’t come up until August.” “I will just have my sister pay it,” I told her. “I don’t want to take advantage of her, but I’m broke right now…Oh. Good luck on that interview! I hope you get it!” Natasha smiled back at me. “Thanks Jill Pill!” “Ha…” I grinned. “I can remember a few friends in high school calling me that…” To those of you still following the story, not much more happened that evening. I shed my t-shirt and jogging pants and slept in my bra and panties. And I just…slept. Yeah. That’s it. if you think you’re going to get more information than that reader, sorry. This is my story, and I will spare some of the unnecessary details, like my snoring or anything else that you don’t need to know about. You’re probably wondering “Jillian, when are you going to get to the diapers?” Doncha worry, my little besties. I will get to how I started wearing them very soon. I just needed to get to my departure from Cleveland first. I can actually remember sleeping really well that night. I felt so happy that my sister really cared about me. But finding a job was something that I really needed to do. Now my sister TOLD me that female anchors were more common in Philadelphia. I closed my eyes and fell asleep, hoping that she was right…
  5. Hi all! Wannatripbaby here. So this is my first crack at fanfiction, and I gotta say, it's a lot harder than I expected! 😅 I got the idea for this story after reading a different Shadowheart story here on this site (which I will link in a comment below). While this isn't meant to be a direct sequel, that story can function as a sort of prequel to this one. Enjoy! ******* As I opened my eyes and darkness gave way to white-hot, blinding sunlight, I found myself looking up into the eyes of a stranger. I squinted, letting his features come into focus. He was a young man with short, wavy blond hair. Slightly-pointed ears suggested he was at least half Elf. He was dressed plainly in a brown leather, fur-lined vest that did little to hide the strange tattoos that ran down his arms, around his torso and halfway up his neck. “Hey, you're awake! Finally!” he said. I blinked at him. What was he… The Artifact! My body shot up into a sitting position, which caused my head to pound at the rush of blood. The Artifact, a dodecahedron about the size of one's fist, was lying in the sand directly to my left. I scrambled to grab it, practically pouncing on it despite my disorientation and the stiffness in my limbs. “Whoa! Calm down, lady!” he said, ”I'm not gonna steal your… Say, what is that thing anyway?” “It's none of your business!” I sneered at him. “Now who are you, and… wait… You were on the ship!” He squinted at me “Oh hey! You were in one of those pod things! Glad you made it out.” He smiled at me. The nerve of this man! “Certainly no thanks to you! You ran right past me with that Githyanki savage!” “Uhhhhh, do I look like an expert Mind Flayer technology!? I have no idea how their stuff fucking works!” he exclaimed, “I could've just as likely exploded your brain as freed you! Plus I was a *little* preoccupied with my own survival at the time!” My shoulders sagged a bit “I guess you have a point…” He went from indignant to smiling again instantly. “Good. Glad we agreed on that.” He paused for a moment, “Say uhhhh, did they happen to put a ummm…” he pointed at his eye. I shuddered at the memory. “A Mind Flayer tadpole? Yes, they did.” “Damn.” he said “Well, since we're both infected with weird alien squid babies, what do you say we try and find a town or something where they can hopefully cure us?” I bristled at his phrasing, but he did make a point. We should probably try to find… An all-too-familiar bulk between my legs reminded me of an even-more-pressing issue. I was still wearing my… And there weren't any other Sisters nearby to help me change my… No no no no no no! Lady of Loss preserve me! “What's wrong!?” He apparently saw the look of alarm on my face and was glancing around frantically, trying to assess the area for threats. “I uhhhhh…” I bit my bottom lip.” M-my pack. It had some… I need something from it…” Even if I had my pack from when I was taken, what good would it do me without one of my Sisters here to help me?” “Hate to break it to ya, but I don't think the squid people kept our luggage around.” he rubbed at his wrists. “But hey, maybe it fell out of the ship somewhere nearby? We could look for it together?” “No!” I shouted. I couldn't let him see what I was carrying. “... I mean, thank you, but I am perfectly capable of searching for it on my own.” He raised an eyebrow at my sudden outburst “two eyes are better than one, you know? Errr, I mean four eyes. You know what I meant. Plus I don't think either of us should go alone. It's dangerous.” I shifted my eyes back and forth across the sand. He was right. We were both unarmed. I had my armor, and my magic--although he had no way of knowing that. But I had never had to defend myself alone. For that matter, I'd never traveled alone at all... For good reason. But how could I travel with a stranger? What if he learned of my... Secret? "Fine, I suppose it would be best for us to travel together... For a while." "Awesome!" he said. "By the way, my name's Tav. Yours would be...?" I raised a hand for him to help me off the ground "Shadowheart." He pulled me to my feet "Seriously? Alright, if you say so." I balked at his tone "and just what do you mean by that!?" He shrugged "It's fine, you don't have to tell me your real name if you don't want to." I narrowed my eyes at him, mouth agape at his sheer audacity. "Shadowheart *is* my real name!" He raised his hands as if in surrender. "Whatever you say. Also my real name isn't Tav, its Darkblade Murderdeath." I pointed a finger towards him and whispered the incantation for Sacred Flame, and a moment later a column of violet light singed the ground at his feet, causing him to jump back "Shit! Okayokayokay your real name is Shadowheart!!!" I grinned at him, satisfied. "Good, and don't you forget it, elsewise next time I will not miss." "Duely noted" he said, "I will try not to give you reason to Smite me, O' mighty smiter." He turned to lead the way further down the beach, and I used the opportunity to take stock of the padded bulk beneath my trousers. It didn't appear too visible from the outside. That was good, at least. And I didn't feel wet... Yet. Whatever happens, I must ensure this stranger--this Tav--never finds out that I'm wearing a diaper... Or that I am unable to change myself. You can find the story that gave me the idea for this one here: https://www.deviantart.com/redsabdlcreations/art/1032086335 And here it is on DD by the person who commissioned it:
  6. (Yes, I know I should continue my Dragon Quest AR story, but three ideas for this site have really struck me lately - one of which, thus far, is eighty-four Google Doc pages thus far, and likely will push into the 500-page range. No, this is not that story; I want to absolutely finish it before posting here - and this is the one I've found the most time working on lately, so this is the story I'm gonna post here. I don't know at what intervals I can post it; I thought I had it with the Dragon Quest story, but I have three chapters done so far, and I'm closing in on a fourth and more. Let's just say a monthly updating schedule?) (Anyway, this is Salutatorians! It's a much darker spin on a Daddy Dom-Little Girl story, not because of any punishments or sexual stuff in particular - the former because I'm not into punishments by a parental figure because I've had those punishments done as a kid for no reason in the past and I'm averse to it, and the latter because I'm a virgin and won't write sex scenes when I have no idea how to write them - but because of just how dark this story gets for the characters. As trigger warnings, suicide, mental illness, violence, abuse of children (including sexual (not shown), physical, and emotional), domestic violence, cursing (including sexist rhetoric), and explicit description of injury (including blood, broken bones, and torn ligaments).) (If you haven't been scared off yet, I promise to write this story to the best of my ability, and I promise that, while I will not shy away from any of those trigger warnings, I will write it as tactfully and as respectfully to those who still wish to read it as I possibly can. These things are not in the story for anything other than plot reasons; this, I swear with all of my heart and soul. But I've said my piece. It's up to you if you want to read or not. I hope you'll read, but I won't be upset if you don't; I'm writing this story as much for me as for you.) --- Chapter One: Yet Another Date. --- Eiluned Mostyn was silent as she prepared her large black tote bag, black gloves, an ankle-length black hooded down coat, and a hot-pink scarf for the cold February Minnesota weather, ready for another dinner date. The college sophomore - formerly from Torfaen, Wales (Cwmbran, if one wanted to get personal) - had tried for a fair few dates with men on Tinder. Those fair few had claimed they were Welsh, claimed they knew her from school or whatever, claimed a lot of things that, after she dug deeper, weren’t true. She always ended up swiping left for most of the cases, and the few dates she had gone for had gone nowhere. This new guy seemed interesting…because she remembered him from a long while back. Ifor Sealy. Just a month older than she was, both of them being twenty years of age. Moved to Tennessee from Wales like she had (except he had been from Bridgend). She remembered him from middle school in eighth grade before she moved away to Minnesota the following year, and lost contact with him. And now he showed up? Out of the blue? Like nothing ever happened? Sure, Eiluned had done her research; the profile proved that he was exactly who he said he was, and for some reason, according to his Facebook and Twitter pages, he had transferred to Minnesota - THE University of Minnesota, where she was studying mechanical engineering - for reasons all his own (i.e., football). But why? Why had he moved here, of all the places he could’ve moved? Surely it didn’t have to do with…her, right? No, couldn’t be. Absolutely couldn’t be! She shook her head and shivered as she stepped into the chilly evening air, got into her car - a beat up Honda - turned the key into the ignition, and drove off to the meeting site: Hell’s Kitchen Minneapolis, a popular hotspot for the college crowd. It wasn’t that far, but she didn’t feel comfortable walking to dates. Too many horror stories, and she was smarter than that. She was one of the best students, a salutatorian in her Minnesota high school. She worked hard for everything she had. And yet… Eiluned froze, trying to drive…it out of her mind. It was her own horror story that made her this way. She didn’t want to think about it. It was something she had worked hard to get rid of, and yet, it was always at the back of her mind, and it stayed there on the short drive to the place, all the way until she pulled into the parking lot, where Ifor was already there, apparently waiting for her. The first thing about Ifor that she noted was that he was a lot bigger than her (although she shouldn’t have been surprised; he was an offensive line transfer from Vanderbilt). She was small at 5’1”, 105 pounds, and he absolutely dwarfed her, like a full-grown redwood tree would dwarf a sapling; he had to be 6’7”, 295 pounds. His hair was down past his shoulder blades, a curly ginger mop that he had tucked away from his gleaming ocean-blue eyes; he wouldn’t have looked out of place in a movie about Celtic warriors, except for his gap-toothed grin showing a playful side of him. He wore a coat that was a surprising fit over a black dress shirt, khaki pants, and a pair of worn brown boots that looked like they had at least been cleaned for the date. Well, you certainly dressed to impress, Ifor. Now what do you want? Eiluned sighed, brushing her dark-brown bangs away from her sage-green eyes. "Helo, Ifor,” she began calmly. “Shwmae?” "Da iawn, diolch, Eiluned,” he replied with an accent that was decidedly not Welsh, yet somehow seeming natural to those words; he was a man who had obviously grown up in a Welsh family. She gestured to the sign. “Why here?” Ifor shrugged. “I hear they make a nice Lucy burger, and I’ve never had one before,” he said in a surprising Southern drawl; she had expected him to speak more…Welsh-ly. "Why do you have a Southern accent, Ifor?” she asked, a little more sharply than intended. To his credit, the harshness of the question seemed to roll off him. “I’ve lived in Tennessee since I was almost seven. Sorry, I bet you expected a Welsh accent?” "Then how do I know you’re actually Ifor Sealy and not some creepy imposter?” He sighed before reaching into his pants pocket for his wallet and giving his ID to her. “If there’s a creepy imposter my size using my name, I’d definitely be scared.” She looked at the ID, noted that it was undeniable proof Ifor was who he said he was. “Fine. I apologize for misunderstanding; you can never be too careful.” "If the situations were reversed, I’d do the same thing. So, are we going to stand in the cold for the night or do we go in?” Eiluned nodded. “Let’s go in.” --- (So, this is the first chapter. As a note, those supposedly unpronounceable words are Welsh (which is admittedly not a language I know, so please forgive me if I don't get them right, I tried my best and looked up as much as I could, and I promise to correct them if they're wrong.). I'll give you a quick translation and pronunciation (from what I could find on Google Translate and various sites): (Helo = Hello. Pronounced "hello", obviously.) (Shwmae = How are you? (informal). Pronounced "shoo - mai.) (Da iawn, diolch = Very good, thanks (Pronoucned "da - yaown - dee - och (ch is the same as in "loch".) (Cwmbran = Kuum = brawn) (As for how the story goes...well, we'll certainly see what happens, won't we?)
  7. I'm thinking alot about getting a Memokath or similar stent inserted by a professional to create a permanent, but reversable incontinence. (that might needs replacement every few years) Thinking about the one mentioned in the big "stent thread" - https://pnnmedical.com/memokath/memokathtm-045-urethra/ Have anyone ever done something like that? Are doctors willing to do it? I'm "officially" fully incontinent because of an accident. So my medical journal does not exactly fit in with getting one inserted, so I'm considering doing it abroad, maybe as "medical turism" out of country. But it might get expensive, and a problem if the stent starts migrating! Anyone have any experience with this, or some of the same thoughts?
  8. Let me preface this topic by saying I am not a writer, but I've read quite a lot of stories on here as well as pretty much every other website that provides ABDL or similarly themed stories, in German as well as English. Thus there may be themes and plotlines in this work that are inspired by other works out there, as that is pretty much unavoidable. However I will try my best to ultimately still keep this story original in the end. Since I have pretty much zero experience in actually writing stories, but am quite versed in prompt engineering AIs, I decided to try out how far I can get to writing an actually enjoyable and consistent novel by relying heavily on AI assistance. I checked the pinned posts in this forum and did not find any rules regarding AI assisted/generated stories, so I hope I'm not breaking any rules. If I do, my apologies. Of ourse I'm heavily aware of the limitations of current, publicy available language models and for the sake of transparency I'm going to briefly explain my approach here. I use two instances of the free version of ChatGPT running on GPT-3.5. The first one I feed with precise outlines of what I want to happen and it responds with a handful of paragraphs at a time. Due to limitations in the conext size and the size of the responses it can't generate full chapters at once, even though those would be more consistent on their own., however with my approach of feeding it prompts bit by bit I have more control about the content. I still need to go through each paragraph however, rearrange them sometimes and fix minor consistency issues. Every now and then there will also be sentences and the odd paragraph in there that I had to fully write on my own, as ChatGPT was not cooperating to produce what I wanted. I really hope those do not stand out however and there is no discernible difference in quality of writing. After I finish a chapter I then feed it into a second instance of ChatGPT, which sole purpose is to extract knowledge and data points from the chapter and outline it once again, which I then feed back into the first AI to increase cohesion and consistency. I've created 5 chapters so far and in my opinion they read really well and are fairly cohesive. I have a general idea for where the story will go but I'm still uncertain of where it will end up. I like to surprise myself a bit as I progress this story and dive deeper into the mind of the protagonist. I aalso have no idea how long this approach will hold up and when the consistency breaks down completely. I welcome any kind of criticism regarding the quality of this story, especially in regards to consistency, as quality AI assisted writing is still fairly novel and I'm very curious to hear what you guys have to say about this approach aand the result. Without further ado, here are the first 5 chapters: ----------------- Chapter 1 (Thursday, Day 1) Sitting at my desk, the hard wooden surface pressing against my thighs, I let out a weary sigh. Mr. Henderson's droning voice filled the classroom, the words blending together into a meaningless stream. History had never been my favorite subject, but today it felt particularly unbearable. I was a sophomore in high school, barely fifteen, with chestnut hair that fell in unruly waves around my shoulders and eyes the color of storm clouds. Despite my petite frame, I carried myself with a quiet confidence, a facade that masked the shame that gnawed at my insides. School had only started three days ago, after a long summer break filled with lazy days and carefree afternoons. But now, with the weight of my secret bearing down on me, those carefree days felt like a distant memory. My mind drifted back to that first accident a few weeks ago, the one that had started this whole downward spiral. I had been home alone, lost in the blissful solitude of my own thoughts, when it happened. I was sitting at my desk, engrossed in a book, when the pressure in my bladder had become too much to bear. I had tried to ignore it at first, too focused on the story unfolding before me to pay attention to the warning signs. But as the urgency grew stronger, more insistent, I finally realized what was happening. I jumped up from my desk, my heart pounding in my chest, and raced to the bathroom. But by then, it was too late. I felt the warm trickle of urine running down the fabric of my pants, a humiliating reminder of my body's betrayal. The shame washed over me in waves as I stumbled into the bathroom, tears stinging my eyes. I cleaned myself up as best I could, my hands trembling with embarrassment. And when I finally emerged from the bathroom, my cheeks flushed with shame, I vowed to never let it happen again. But now, as I sat in Mr. Henderson's classroom, the memory of that first accident came rushing back with startling clarity. And as the pressure in my bladder grew stronger, more insistent, I realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that history was about to repeat itself. Bits and pieces of the lesson floated through my mind, ironically drawing parallels to my current situation. Mentions of treaties and alliances felt like reminders of the fragile alliances I had forged with my own body, desperate attempts to maintain control in the face of impending disaster. But as my thoughts started to spiral again, a sudden realization snapped me back to reality. A warm, damp sensation spread across the fabric of my panties, and my heart sank. The shame washed over me in a suffocating wave, my cheeks burning with embarrassment as I tried to discreetly wipe away the evidence. And then, just as I was grappling with the humiliation of my predicament, Lily's voice cut through the haze of my thoughts. Lily has been my best friend for as long as I can remember and she was sitting next to me in class. "Ellie, are you okay?" she asked, concern etched in her features. I forced a smile, my voice strained as I replied, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired, I guess." But even as I spoke the words, I could see the doubt in Lily's eyes. She had noticed something off about me, something I had been desperately trying to conceal. And as she continued to study me with furrowed brows, I knew that my carefully constructed facade was beginning to crumble, exposing the truth I had fought so hard to hide. My heart sank further as I realized there were still ten more minutes left in this class. How was I supposed to deal with my wet secret for that long? And as the pressure in my bladder continued to build, I couldn't shake the feeling of mortification knowing that the short leak wasn't enough to relieve it. I watched the clock closely, patiently waiting to be released from this torture. My thoughts started drifting off again, thinking about how my life was just fine a few weeks ago and how my bladder control got progressively worse in the last two weeks of summer vacation. At first, I didn’t notice. It all began with that one accident, which I quickly dismissed. I rationalized it afterward, attributing it to the copious amounts of water I drank that day to combat the summer heat. Given my tendency to lose myself in thought and tune out the world around me, it seemed plausible. In the following weeks, I continued to use the same excuse to justify my increasingly frequent trips to the bathroom. I didn’t think much of it. "It's just because I've been drinking so much to stay hydrated in the summer," I reassured myself. Although that carefree confidence started to crumble more and more with each trip to the bathroom and close call. Afterall here I was, sitting in class with damp panties. The shrill ring of the bell echoed through the classroom, pulling me once again from my thoughts, signaling the end of yet another torturous history lesson. Without a second thought, I bolted out of my seat, my heart racing as I made a beeline for the exit. I could feel the pressure in my bladder reaching a critical point, threatening to unleash an even worse accident if I didn't act fast. With each hurried step, I prayed that I would make it to the restrooms in time. The hallway stretched on endlessly before me, the minutes ticking by agonizingly slow. But finally, mercifully, I reached the door to the restroom and pushed it open with trembling hands. I dashed inside and made a beeline for the nearest stall, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Just barely, I managed to yank down my pants and lower myself onto the toilet before it was too late. I closed my eyes, relief flooding through me as I felt the warm rush of urine escaping my body. Once the immediate crisis had passed, I dared to open my eyes and glance down at my wet panties. The shame washed over me anew as I realized the extent of the damage. There was no hiding it now – the evidence of my secret was plain for all to see. I contemplated my situation, trying to come up with a plan to discreetly deal with my wet underwear. But as I sat there, lost in thought, a knock on the stall door shattered the silence. "Ellie? Are you in there?" Lily's voice broke through the haze of my thoughts, concern evident in her tone. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. How had she found me here? And more importantly, how was I supposed to explain the mess I had gotten myself into? With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I realized that I was about to be confronted with a reality I had been desperately trying to avoid. "I-I'm fine, Lily," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. "Just... needed a moment alone, you know?" But even as the words tumbled out of my mouth, I knew they sounded unconvincing. How could I possibly explain the mess I had made of things without revealing my deepest, most humiliating secret? There was a brief pause, and then Lily spoke again, her voice soft but insistent. "Ellie, I'm your best friend. You can talk to me about anything. Please, just let me in." I hesitated, torn between the instinct to keep my secret buried deep inside and the desperate need for someone to confide in. Finally, with a heavy heart, I unlocked the stall door and watched as Lily stepped inside. Her eyes widened in surprise as she took in the scene before her – me, sitting on the toilet with tears streaming down my cheeks, my wet panties discarded on the floor beside me. "Oh, Ellie," Lily whispered, her voice filled with sympathy. "What's going on? Why are you so upset?" I took a deep breath, steeling myself to reveal the truth I had fought so hard to hide. "Lily, I... I've been having accidents," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's been happening for weeks now, and I don't know what to do." Tears welled up in my eyes as I recounted the humiliating ordeal I had been going through, the shame and fear that had consumed me with each passing day. But to my surprise, instead of recoiling in disgust or disbelief, Lily reached out and enveloped me in a warm hug. "Ellie, I'm so sorry," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea you were going through this. But you don't have to face it alone. We'll figure this out together, okay?" And in that moment, as I clung to my best friend for dear life, I felt a glimmer of hope flicker to life inside me. Maybe, just maybe, I didn't have to face this nightmare alone after all. Chapter 2 (Thursday, Day 1) Lily and I huddled together in the restroom stall, our voices hushed as we deliberated our options. "Okay, so we have two choices," Lily began, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Option one: we dry off your panties as best as we can and you put them back on. Hopefully, the wetness won't show through your pants." I bit my lip, considering her suggestion. "But what if they do show through?" I whispered anxiously. "I can't bear the thought of everyone seeing..." Lily nodded understandingly before presenting the second option. "Option two: we seek out help from the school staff. They might have spare clothing or be able to assist us in some way." I hesitated, my mind racing with conflicting thoughts. On one hand, the idea of confiding in someone else filled me with dread. I couldn't bear the thought of anyone else knowing about my humiliating secret. But on the other hand, the risk of being caught with wet panties was equally terrifying. "I... I think we should go with option one," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't... I can't bring myself to tell anyone else about this." Lily nodded in agreement, though I could see the concern in her eyes. "Okay, we'll go with option one," she said gently. "But if it doesn't work out, we'll figure something else out, okay? You're not alone in this, Ellie. I'm here for you." Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I nodded, overwhelmed by Lily's unwavering support. Together, we set to work drying off my panties as best as we could, hoping against hope that our chosen option would be enough to get us through the rest of the day. As we worked quickly to dry off my panties, the restroom door creaked open, and the voices of a bunch of gossiping girls drifted in. My heart sank as I listened to their chatter, their words slicing through the air like knives. "...and did you hear about Sarah? I heard she got dumped by her boyfriend in front of the whole school! Can you imagine how humiliating that must've been?" The cruel laughter that followed sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt Lily tense beside me. We pressed ourselves against the walls of the stall, hardly daring to breathe as we waited for the girls to leave. My mind raced with fear and anxiety, the sound of their laughter ringing in my ears like a taunt. I couldn't help but wonder what they would say if they knew about my own humiliating secret, about the struggles I was facing right now. But as the seconds ticked by agonizingly slow, the girls' voices gradually faded away, leaving behind an eerie silence. Lily and I breathed a sigh of relief, our bodies still trembling with tension. Once the coast was clear and my panties as dry as we could get them, we emerged from the stall, our faces pale with fear and exhaustion. Lily squeezed my hand reassuringly, her eyes filled with sympathy. "We'll get through this, Ellie," she whispered, her voice filled with determination. "Together." With Lily's support, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them head-on. And as we left the restroom, ready to tackle whatever came our way, I felt a glimmer of hope flicker to life inside me. We made it back to our last class of the day without anyone noticing the turmoil that had unfolded in the restroom. With each step, I felt a sense of relief wash over me, grateful for the temporary reprieve from the weight of my secret, but also still reminded of the dampness inside my pants. As we settled into our seats, the familiar routine of the classroom provided a welcome distraction from the events of the day. And though the memory of the gossiping girls lingered in the back of my mind, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Lily's unwavering support. Despite the close call, I had managed to navigate through the day without my secret being exposed to the entire school. It was still a close call, but in that moment, it felt like a small victory. Despite the earlier challenges, the remainder of the class passed without incident. But as the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, my relief was short-lived. As I gathered my belongings and prepared to leave, Lily caught up to me, a concerned expression etched on her face. "Ellie, wait," she said softly, motioning for me to step aside. Confusion knitted my brows as I followed Lily to a secluded corner of the hallway. It was then that her gaze flickered down to my pants, and her eyes widened in alarm. "Oh, Ellie," Lily murmured, sympathy lacing her voice as she gestured to the damp stain that had seeped through. "We need to figure out a way to conceal this before you leave school. We can't let anyone see." Panic surged through me as I realized the gravity of the situation. I couldn't bear the thought of facing the humiliation of being seen with stained pants, especially not in front of my classmates. But with Lily by my side, I knew we would find a way to handle it together. Taking a deep breath, Lily and I set to work, brainstorming ideas to conceal the stain and get me home safely. We quickly decided that Lily would lend me her jacket to tie around my waist, providing cover as we made our way through the crowded halls. Nervously, Lily and I made our way through the hallways towards the exit, keeping a vigilant eye out for any signs of suspicion. To our relief, we seemed to go unnoticed, but the tension still lingered in the air, palpable and suffocating. As we approached the bus stop, the familiar sound of giggling reached our ears, and my heart sank as I spotted the gossiping group of girls already waiting there. Among them stood the tallest one, towering at 5 foot 10 over my petite 5 foot 0 frame. She shot a glance towards the jacket around my waist, raising an eyebrow in curiosity, but quickly became engrossed in conversation with her friends once again. My pulse raced with anxiety, but to my immense relief, the girl didn't seem to suspect anything amiss. She made no comment about the jacket or the stain it concealed, and soon, the bus arrived, whisking us away from the prying eyes of the gossiping girls. As we settled into our seats on the bus, I let out a shaky breath, grateful for the narrow escape. Despite the close call, we had managed to make it through the day without my secret being exposed to the entire school. It was a small victory, but in that moment, it felt like a monumental achievement. After what felt like an eternity, though it was only about 15 minutes, Lily and I finally reached our stop. Lost in my thoughts, I reflected on the rollercoaster of a school day we had just endured. As we stepped off the bus and onto the familiar sidewalk, a knot formed in the pit of my stomach at the thought of facing my mom when I got home. We walked together in silence until we reached the front of my house. With a heavy heart, I turned to Lily, knowing our time together was coming to an end for the day. "Thanks, Lily," I said softly, my voice tinged with gratitude. "For everything." Lily smiled warmly, her eyes filled with understanding. "Of course, Ellie," she replied. "Anytime. And don't worry, you can keep the jacket for today. You can give it back to me tomorrow before school." Relief washed over me as I pulled the jacket tighter around my waist, hoping it would conceal the stain, not realizing however that stain had almost fully dried and was barely visible by now. With a final hug, we said our goodbyes, and I watched as Lily walked away, disappearing down the street. Alone now, I stood in front of my front door, the weight of the day's events heavy on my shoulders. Dread gnawed at me as I contemplated the inevitable encounter with my mom. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and reached for the doorknob, steeling myself for what lay ahead. Chapter 3 (Thursday, Day 1) I stepped through the front door, the weight of the day's events heavy on my shoulders. My mom greeted me with her usual upbeat demeanor, her smile brightening as she asked about my day. "Hi, Mom," I managed to stammer out, my voice barely above a whisper. I forced a smile, hoping to mask the turmoil raging inside me, and quickly set my bag down by the door. As my mom chattered on about her day, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me, I followed her to the kitchen, my mind swirling with worrisome thoughts. I mechanically poured myself a glass of water, the cool liquid doing little to calm the nerves that threatened to consume me. I forced myself to focus on my mom's words, nodding along absentmindedly as she recounted the events of her day. But beneath the surface, a sense of dread gnawed at me, the weight of my secret pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. I struggled to keep up the facade of normalcy, my mind racing with unanswered questions. How could I face my mom when she inevitably found out about my struggles? Would she be disappointed in me, or worse, ashamed? As I sipped my water, I resolved to keep my secret buried deep inside, at least for now. I couldn't bear the thought of burdening my mom with my troubles, not when she had her own worries to contend with. But even as I tried to push aside my fears, a sense of unease lingered in the air, casting a shadow over what should have been a peaceful afternoon at home. And as I glanced up at my mom, her smile faltering for just a moment, I couldn't shake the feeling that our idyllic facade was beginning to crack. As I helped my mom make dinner, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables providing a comforting distraction, I began to feel a sense of calm wash over me. Maybe, just maybe, my mom hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary after all. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't notice the pressure building in my bladder until it became almost unbearable. With a small gasp, I excused myself from the kitchen, intending to make a quick trip to the bathroom. But before I could take a single step, my mom's voice cut through the air, startling me out of my reverie. "Ellie, wait," she said, her tone gentle but firm. "Can I ask you something?" I turned to face her, my mind still foggy from my internal turmoil. "Sure, Mom," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady despite the rising tide of anxiety. She hesitated for a moment, her expression unreadable, before finally speaking. "What's with the jacket, sweetheart?" she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "It's still pretty warm out for you to be wearing it." My heart skipped a beat as I realized there was no way to avoid the question. With a shaky breath, I forced myself to reply, praying that my mom wouldn't push for more details. "Oh, uh, it's just... I found it in my closet and thought it looked nice," I said, my voice trembling slightly. To my surprise, my mom's eyes narrowed slightly as she studied the jacket. "That's odd," she mused, her tone thoughtful. "I don't remember you ever owning a jacket like that. Did you borrow it from a friend?" Panic surged through me as I struggled to come up with a plausible explanation. "Um, yeah, something like that," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. "A friend lent it to me for the day." My mom nodded slowly, though a hint of concern lingered in her eyes. "Alright, honey," she said, her tone gentle. "Just be careful, okay? And make sure to return it to your friend when you're done with it." With a nod, I forced a smile and hurried off to the bathroom, my heart still pounding with adrenaline. As I closed the door behind me, I let out a shaky breath, grateful for the temporary reprieve. But even as I relieved myself, the weight of my secret hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over what should have been a simple family dinner. Sitting on the toilet, I couldn't help but glance down at the white, slightly childish-looking panties I wore. My heart sank as I noticed the faint yellow stain, now fully dry, marring the fabric. With a pang of embarrassment, I realized I should probably change out of them. Once I finished in the bathroom, I made a quick detour to my bedroom upstairs. Hastily, I switched out of my jeans and stained panties, exchanging them for a fresh pair and a comfortable pair of sweatpants. I left the borrowed jacket on my bed and hurried back downstairs to the kitchen. As I reentered the room, the aroma of dinner filled the air, momentarily distracting me from my worries. My mom glanced up from the stove, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Feeling better, sweetheart?" she asked, concern lacing her voice. I forced a smile, trying to shake off the lingering sense of unease. "Yeah, much better," I replied, my voice sounding more confident than I felt. "Sorry about that, Mom." She waved off my apology with a smile, turning back to tend to the food. But even as I joined her in the kitchen, the memory of the stained panties lingered in the back of my mind, a constant reminder of the secret I was desperate to keep hidden. As I finished setting the table, the sound of the front door opening caught my attention. Moments later, my dad entered the kitchen, his tired smile lighting up his face as he greeted me. "Hey there, kiddo," he said, ruffling my hair affectionately. With a smile, I returned his greeting, grateful for the familiar routine of our family dinners. As we all sat down at the table, the warm glow of the kitchen bathed us in a sense of comfort and familiarity. Throughout dinner, I couldn't help but notice how upbeat both of my parents seemed, their laughter filling the air as they exchanged stories from their day. They played the part of the happy little family perfectly, oblivious to the worries that ate away at their daughter from the inside. I tried my best to join in the conversation, forcing a smile and nodding along with their stories. But beneath the facade of normalcy, a sense of isolation gnawed at me, reminding me of the burden I carried alone. As the evening wore on and dinner came to an end, I excused myself from the table, claiming exhaustion from the long day at school. But even as I retreated to my room, the weight of my secret hung heavy on my shoulders, casting a shadow over what should have been a simple family meal. As I sat down to tackle my homework, my mind couldn't help but drift back to the events of the day. I felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for Lily and all she had done to support me. Without her, I don't know how I would have made it through the day. With a sudden burst of determination, I decided to call Lily, hoping to do our homework together. Somehow, suffering through the boring math equations seemed more bearable with her by my side. "Hey, Lily!" I greeted her as she picked up the phone. "Hey, Ellie! What's up?" Lily replied cheerfully. "I was wondering if you wanted to do our math homework together? It's kind of boring on my own," I suggested. "Sure thing! I’ve finished mine already, but I don’t mind keeping you company," Lily agreed with a laugh. I quickly got to work, Lily helping me through the first problem. But it wasn't long before our conversation veered off course, leading us down a rabbit hole of jokes and stories. "Remember that time in sixth grade when Mr. Thompson caught us passing notes in class?" Lily reminisced, causing us both to burst into laughter. "Oh, how could I forget?" I replied between giggles. "That was definitely one of our finer moments." As we continued to work through the homework, I couldn't help but marvel at Lily's patience and willingness to help, despite having already completed her own assignments. It was moments like these that reminded me just how lucky I was to have her as a friend. In the midst of our conversation my focus shifted further and further away from the assignment I was doing. By the time we were completely off topic I barely managed to finish half of the assignment and had already completely forgotten about them. I even completely forgot about the stained panties still lying on my bedroom floor, which I had originally planned to deal with after homework. For the first time since I had arrived home, I felt a sense of lightness wash over me, grateful for the simple joy of friendship in the midst of chaos. Chapter 4 (Thursday, Day 1) Hours slipped by as Lily and I talked, laughter punctuating our conversation as we reminisced about old memories and shared new ones. But as the evening progressed, I realized with a sinking feeling that I still hadn't finished my homework. Time had slipped away unnoticed, and now I found myself scrambling to catch up. A sudden knock at the door shattered the tranquility of the moment, causing me to jump in my seat. With a quick apology to Lily, I excused myself from our phone conversation and hung up, my heart pounding with apprehension. "Come in," I called out automatically, my mind still reeling from the unexpected interruption. The door creaked open slowly, revealing my mom standing in the doorway, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. "Hey, sweetheart," she said softly, her voice gentle. "Is everything okay?" I forced a smile, trying to hide the panic that threatened to consume me. "Yeah, Mom, everything's fine," I replied, though my voice sounded strained even to my own ears. But my mom wasn't convinced. I could see it in the way she studied me, her eyes searching mine for any sign of distress. "Are you sure?" she asked, her tone gentle but probing. "You seemed a bit... off earlier. Is something on your mind?" I felt a surge of nervousness grip me as I realized that my mom wasn't as oblivious as I had thought. She had sensed something was wrong, and now I found myself at a loss for words. "I, uh, just got caught up in a conversation with Lily," I stammered, my voice faltering. "That's all." My mom's expression softened with understanding, though a hint of concern lingered in her eyes. "Alright, sweetheart," she said softly. "Just remember, I'm here if you ever need to talk. I love you." As I sat there, trying to compose myself, realizing my Mom was only concerned and meant well, I noticed her gaze flicker towards the floor where my discarded clothes lay. My heart skipped a beat, fearing she might notice the stained panties, but to my relief, her attention seemed to pass over them without recognition. "Sweetheart, don't forget to clean up your clothes before bedtime," my mom said, her voice gentle but firm as she turned back to face me. I nodded quickly, my mind racing with a mixture of anxiety and relief. "Okay, Mom," I replied, forcing a smile despite the turmoil brewing inside me. With a final nod, my mom left the room, closing the door softly behind her. As I sank back into my chair, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease lingering in the air. My mom's concern was touching, but it also served as a stark reminder that I couldn't keep my struggles hidden forever. With a heavy sigh, I pushed the thoughts aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. But even as I gathered up my clothes and prepared to clean up, the memory of my mom's probing gaze lingered in the back of my mind, a constant reminder that some secrets were harder to keep than others. As I placed my clothes in the hamper, a sense of exhaustion washed over me, weighing down my limbs as if each step was a struggle. I made my way to the kitchen, the cool tile floor soothing beneath my feet as I poured myself a glass of water, the gentle sound of it filling the silence of the empty house. With a heavy sigh, I trudged into the living room where my parents sat, their voices low as they chatted quietly. I mustered a weak smile as I bid them goodnight, the weight of the day pressing down on me like a leaden blanket. Turning away, I made my way to the bathroom, the familiar routine of brushing my teeth offering a brief respite from the chaos of my thoughts. But even as I rinsed and spat, the worries of the day lingered in the back of my mind, a constant reminder of all that I had left unfinished. As I climbed into bed, the events of the day replayed in my mind like a broken record, each moment filled with anxiety and uncertainty. I couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gnawed at me, the struggles of the day casting a shadow over the days to come. With a heavy heart, I closed my eyes, the weight of my worries threatening to pull me under. But even as sleep beckoned, I couldn't escape the nagging sense of unease that clung to me like a stubborn shadow, a constant reminder of the struggles that lay ahead. And so, with a weary sigh, I surrendered to the embrace of sleep, hoping that tomorrow would bring some respite from the chaos of today. I drifted off into a restless slumber, completely oblivious to the fact that I had never even finished my homework that day. Chapter 5 (Friday, Day 2) I sat in math class, my eyes fixed on the clock at the front of the room. Its hands seemed frozen in time, mocking me as I waited for the minutes to tick by. My bladder ached, a constant reminder of the discomfort I had been trying to ignore all morning. As the teacher droned on about equations and variables, I tried to focus on the lesson, but my mind kept wandering back to the relentless ticking of the clock. Each second felt like an eternity, stretching on and on as if time itself had come to a standstill. I glanced down at the worksheet in front of me, my stomach twisting into knots as I realized I hadn't finished the homework assignment. Panic bubbled up inside me, threatening to overwhelm my already frayed nerves. Summoning all my willpower, I tried to push aside my worries and concentrate on the task at hand. But as the minutes dragged on, my anxiety only grew, a heavy weight pressing down on my chest with each passing second. Just when I thought I couldn't bear it any longer, the teacher's voice cut through the haze of my thoughts, calling my name. My heart skipped a beat as I realized what was happening. "Ellie, would you mind coming up to the front to present your solution for problem number three?" the teacher asked, her voice breaking through the fog of my panic. I felt a surge of dread wash over me as all eyes turned to me expectantly. With trembling hands, I gathered my things and made my way to the front of the room, my heart pounding in my chest. As I stood in front of the class, the weight of their gaze bearing down on me, I struggled to find my voice. My mind raced, searching desperately for the solution I knew was buried somewhere in the depths of my memory. But as the seconds ticked by, I realized with a sinking feeling that I had nothing. My mind was blank, my thoughts consumed by the overwhelming pressure of the moment. With a shaky breath, I mumbled something incomprehensible, the words tumbling out of my mouth in a jumbled mess. The teacher frowned, her disappointment palpable as she urged me to try again. But it was no use. The words refused to come, trapped in the tangled web of my anxiety. And as I stood there, frozen in place, I couldn't help but feel the crushing weight of failure bearing down on me, a heavy burden that seemed impossible to bear. Suddenly, a wave of relief washed over me, but it wasn't because I had miraculously found the answer to the math problem. Instead, it was a strange warmth spreading through my lower body, a sensation that left me bewildered and confused. Slowly, almost hesitantly, I glanced down, fully expecting to see a puddle forming at my feet. But to my shock and confusion, my pants remained dry, and instead, there was a strange bulge forming between my legs. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized what was happening. I felt a surge of panic rising within me, my mind racing to make sense of the impossible situation unfolding before me. I looked up, my eyes wide with fear, only to find all eyes in the classroom fixed on me. I could feel the heat of their stares burning into my skin, their whispers filling the air like a deafening roar. And then, amidst the chaos, I heard it: a faint, familiar giggle echoing from the back of the room. My blood ran cold as I recognized the sound, a chilling reminder of the humiliation that awaited me. Frozen in place, I struggled to make sense of it all. How had this happened? Why was I wearing a diaper? And who could have done this to me? But as I searched the faces of my classmates for answers, all I found was confusion and disbelief mirrored back at me. And in that moment, I realized that I was alone, trapped in a nightmare of my own making with no way out. As I jolted awake, confusion momentarily clouded my thoughts. It took a moment for me to realize that it was just a dream, but as the fog of sleep lifted, a wave of worry washed over me. My heart raced as I remembered the vivid details of the dream – the warmth spreading through my lower body, the sensation of wearing a diaper, the humiliating laughter echoing in the background. With trembling hands, I reached under the sheets, my heart pounding in my chest as I searched for any sign of wetness. Relief flooded through me as my fingers met dry fabric, but it was short-lived. In the next instant, a sharp pain sliced through my bladder, a stark reminder of the reality of my situation. Panic surged within me as I realized that I only had seconds to spare before disaster struck. Frantically, I threw back the covers and stumbled out of bed, my mind racing as I raced to the bathroom, every step sending a jolt of agony through my body. With trembling hands, I fumbled with the doorknob, my heart pounding in my chest as I pushed open the door and stumbled inside. And then, finally, blessed relief washed over me as I collapsed onto the toilet, the pressure in my bladder finally easing as I let out a long, shuddering sigh. As I sat there in the dim light of the bathroom, the events of the dream still fresh in my mind, I couldn't help but wonder what it all meant. Was it just a nightmare, or was it a sign of something more? And as I sat there, lost in my thoughts, I couldn't shake the feeling that the worst was yet to come. As I returned to my bedroom, the dim light filtering in through the curtains cast long shadows across the room. Glancing at the clock on my bedside table, I realized with a sinking feeling that it was barely 3 am. Exhaustion washed over me, the events of the night leaving me drained both physically and emotionally. Crawling back into bed, I pulled the covers up to my chin, hoping to find solace in the darkness of sleep. But as I lay there, my mind buzzing with a thousand thoughts and worries, I found myself unable to relax. Minutes turned into hours as I tossed and turned, my thoughts swirling in a chaotic whirlwind. But despite my best efforts, sleep remained elusive, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. And then, just when I thought I couldn't bear it any longer, exhaustion finally claimed me, pulling me down into the depths of dreamless sleep. As I drifted off into unconsciousness, a sense of peace washed over me, if only for a fleeting moment, as I surrendered to the embrace of slumber once more.
  9. Background: Amid the global health challenges posed by the COVID-19 pandemic, an association with urinary system complications has been identified. Urinary incontinence (UI) has become a significant post-COVID sequela among males, with substantial implications for their quality of life. Objective: The study aimed to quantify the frequency and delineate the severity of urinary incontinence in post-COVID male patients, as well as to document the prevalence of associated lower urinary tract symptoms. Methods: A cross-sectional observational study was executed, engaging 400 male post-COVID patients aged between 45 to 64 years from three hospitals in Lahore. Participants were selected via non-probability convenience sampling and provided data through the International Consultation on Incontinence Questionnaire-Urinary Incontinence Short Form (ICIQ-UI SF) and Male Lower Urinary Tract Symptoms (ICIQ-MLUTS). Statistical analyses were performed using SPSS version 21. Results: The prevalence of urinary incontinence among the participants was high, with 367 (91.75%) reporting some degree of UI. In terms of severity, moderate UI was the most common, affecting 248 (67.5%) of those with UI, followed by slight UI in 82 (22.5%), and severe UI in 37 (10%) participants. The study identified urgency (reported by 133 participants or 33.3% 'occasionally' and 132 or 33% 'most of the time') and postvoid dribbling (reported by 159 participants or 39.8% 'most of the time') as the most frequent symptoms. Notably, there were no reports of very severe urinary incontinence. Conclusion: The study concludes a high prevalence of urinary incontinence among male patients post-COVID-19, with the majority experiencing moderate severity. These findings underscore the importance of including urinary incontinence assessments in post-COVID patient care and may inform the development of targeted interventions to improve patient outcomes. Source: Frequency of Urinary Incontinence Among Post COVID Males
  10. This is the first part of a story. It wasn't going to be multipart, but it got a bit out of hand. Next part coming once I've written it. If people like this enough for me to write the rest, I guess. You knew my history. I’d explained everything to you early on. How I’d woken up to a soaked bed every morning, and come home every night smelling of poop as I couldn’t get through a day without making a mess in my underwear - more than once most days. How every time someone told a joke I’d end up hiding the huge wet patch that I’d left on the seat and my clothes, and you knew how traumatic the hand-wringing and the chastising from my parents was. Nappies would have made things so much simpler and easier, but every time the suggestion came up, I’d argued and protested, and the subject was dropped. You knew how long that went on for. Daily accidents, and daily recriminations through to my teenage years. Better-hidden accidents, less major, less frequent, but still too obvious throughout the rest of my life. Concentration. Effort. Constant awareness all the time to stop me embarrassing myself. And the endless trips back and forth to the toilet, at the slightest urge. You knew about my kinks. You helped me put two and two together, and - to understand that having accidents in a ‘safe’ way was helping me to relive the memories without the recriminations, and without the unrelenting humiliation and trauma. To not have to stop doing fun things because I needed to hide what I’d done. And you helped me realise the accidents weren’t laziness, and weren’t because I wasn’t trying hard enough, but that they were caused by things that I just couldn’t control. It was your suggestion that I wear all the time. It had always felt to me like I was LARPing incontinence, but you told me to try for a few weeks, and after that I realised how much work I’d been putting in to avoid accidents, and what life was like for everyone else. No more constant worry, no more anxiety, no more trips to the toilet every 20 minutes, and so much less shame. That initial reluctance and my push-back against you fed into our power-play dynamic. That night when I came home, standing in the hallway, trying to hide to mess in my underwear and the stain on my butt. Your tone when you told me to turn round, and the comforting hug and help cleaning up. I definitely played into the brattiness that night when you tried to put my nappy on me. I wanted it, but admitting that felt wrong. There was no way I could let you put me in one without fighting back. I needed the spanking that night. Not just because I was a brat, but I desperately needed to feel some pain to allow myself to enjoy the pleasure I was receiving for doing something that I shouldn’t have done. And then there was the day after. Being woken up with you checking my wet nappy, and changing me into a clean one. My little protest that we were going out, and that I couldn’t wear a nappy, and you making it very clear that no matter whether I wanted to or not, I was going to be in one. I decided that I had to fight back a little there. So I made sure to have lots of milk with my cereal at breakfast, and lots of milk with my coffee. You’d made it clear I wasn’t to change myself, so you were going to have to take me back and forth to the toilet so I could poop. You’d soon get bored and just take the nappy off. We got on the train. Our day out in the city was something we’d both looked forward to, and it made sense to avoid driving in. That was going to play into my plan perfectly. Those toilets were so small that you’d give up right away, regardless of the big change bag you brought with you. I’d be free of the nappies right away. I felt my tummy rumble as soon as we got on the train, and whispered in your ear, “I think I need to poo”. Your response shocked me, “well poo then. I’ll change you when we get to a station.” No taking me to the toilet, no telling me to take my nappy off, not even a “hold on as long as you can”, just a simple instruction. The journey was going to take an hour, there was no way I wanted to stay stinky for that long. Definitely not in public. But there was also no way you’d let me do that. We’d end up getting off so you could change me as soon as you smelled me. I felt my tummy grumble and cramp again, and without even trying to help it along, I felt mess leak into my nappy. I sat there, completely still. The train wasn’t busy, but it wasn’t empty, and there were going to be more people getting on as we went along. I began to smell myself, and knew other people would smell me too. “I think a bit has leaked out” I whispered to you. Your seemed surprisingly casual, “I’m sorry Honey, but it’ll be a little while before I can do anything about it. Good job for telling me though.” It might have been what you said, it might have been the tone, but I saw red. Now I wanted you to feel like you had to do something, even if it meant I was going to humiliate myself in the process. The next time my tummy rumbled, I lifted myself up off the seat, perched on your lap, and gave a push. With a bubbling squelch I filled my nappy with stinky mess as I sat on you. I thought you’d be furious. Or at the very least, shocked. “Aw, do you feel a bit better now?” certainly wasn’t the response I expected. I stayed sitting on you, the hot mush in my pamper making me feel utterly humiliated, as you cuddled me. “It’s OK, Honey. It won’t be too long before we get to our station. Why don’t you close your eyes and try to dose for a bit”. I did as you told me. I tried to relax, tried to sleep, but the stink from my nappy kept wafting into my nose, and the movement of the train kept squishing the mush against my butt. I wanted to fall into a hole. All the while you seemed so calm. Like me having stinky pants wasn’t an issue at all. I felt the train slow as we came into the first station. I started to stand up, ready to get off, but felt your arms pull me tight. I couldn’t believe you’d let me stay like this all the way through the journey, but you didn’t relent. “Are we going to get off?” I asked. “No,” you said, a firm tone to your voice, “We can’t just drop what we’re doing every time you have an accident. That’s why you’re in a nappy. I’ll change you when we get to the station”. I blushed as you mentioned my nappy. It didn’t seem like anyone heard, but you made no effort to moderate your voice. Much like the accident itself, and the clothes you’d helped me pick out - which didn’t show the nappy off, but weren’t the usual baggy outfit I’d have picked, everything was just so matter of fact. I had accidents. I wore nappies. It didn’t affect anyone else, and we weren’t going to go out of our way to disguise it. I closed my eyes again and eventually managed to drift off to sleep. I woke up to you kissing my neck. “Time to get up” I heard in my ear. “I think you peed in your sleep. I felt your nappy get warm”. I blushed again, gently repositioning myself to allow me to stand up. I could feel my nappy bulging between my legs. I’d definitely not been this wet when I went to sleep. I waddled a little as you guided me off the train. The carriage and the platform were really busy, but in my drowsy state I wasn’t paying attention to everyone around me. Probably for the best, as at least a few people were probably staring at me, pinpointing me as the source of the smell. You ushered me towards the accessible toilet, reaching round and unbuttoning my jeans as soon as you closed the door behind us. I felt your hand on the back of my nappy, pulling it back. “You definitely needed to go” I heard you say, “do you think you’re all done?” I nodded my head. “Well, I’d like you to try to go a bit more for me anyway.” you said. I tried to protest, but it was a very half-hearted effort. I bent my legs a little and strained right there and then. No more mess, but the hissing noise betrayed me losing what was left in my bladder. “Good kitty” you said, as you caressed my back. Let’s get you changed. You reached into the change bag and pulled out my pacifier, slipping it into my mouth, then unzipped the fly of my jeans, tugging them down to my ankles. “Step out please” you said, and I slipped my socks off and stepped out of my jeans. “From the state of your nappy I think it’s going to be best if we take all your clothes off” you say. I catch a glance of the nappy in the mirror and you’re right. It’s destroyed, and there’s slight brown staining around the leg holes where it’s beginning to leak. “Arms up”. I do as you instruct, and feel you pull my top over my head. Standing in nothing but my destroyed nappy, I feel utterly helpless. You’re in charge now, I have no will of my own, and no control over anything to do with my accidents at all. I watch as you pull a bath towel and a disposable pad from the bag, and lay it on the floor. I know I should lie on it, but my mind is hazy. I wait for your instruction, shivering a little from the cool air on my skin. “Lie down please.” I do as I’m told, sitting first. I feel the mess that until now had been hanging between my legs squish to the front and back of my nappy, causing another waft of the stink to come out of my nappy. With my paci filling my mouth, and no clothing to mitigate it, the smell seemed far worse. As I lay down I feel the mush continue to push up the back of the nappy, seeping out the top. Without thinking, my hands come up to my face, as you bend down and begin the change. I feel your gloved hands gently stroking across the front of my nappy, and moving to the tapes. I know what’s about to happen, and I brace myself for it. You remove the top tapes. The smell gets worse. Then the bottom tapes. I feel the air hit my crotch as you pull the front of the nappy down. The smell is terrible now. I whimper behind my pacifier, utterly humiliated. Then I feel your hand on my face, your lips on my forehead, and hear your voice, “it’s OK, nothing to worry about. Your nappy held it all, and we’re getting you clean now”. My quivering lips ease into a smile, and I feel you take the front of my nappy and use it to clean a big chunk of the mess off my bottom. Then your hands lifting my feet up, raising my legs and bottom. “Can you grab your thighs for me please” you ask. I do as I’m told, then suckle on my paci as you use wet wipes to clean the pee and mess from my thighs and around the front, before moving down towards my bottom. The cool wipes feel wonderful, and the freshly wiped, clean skin feels so nice compared to the claminess of the pee and mess. You push my legs back a little further, and raise my butt up higher, pulling the nappy out from under me, then continue cleaning me, taking a big handful of wipes and cleaning my butt cheeks. I feel you go over the same area again and again, then move inwards. I barely feel the first wipe that touches my butt hole, because there’s so much mess, but as you clean it I begin to enjoy the sensation of the wipe on my sphincter. Caressing the tender skin. Cleaning it. Soothing it. Then slipping into my hole. I whimper again, this time from pleasure rather than humiliation. You penetrate me with the wipe again, twisting your finger around a little, and I writhe as I enjoy the sensation, suckling harder on my paci. You get a new wipe and make one more pass, once again penetrating my hole and twisting your finger around. Once again it makes me writhe from the pleasurable sensations. Then you stop. “Not now, baby kitty” you say, “I’m just getting you clean before we go and enjoy our day”. I sigh, and pout, but it falls on deaf ears. You lift my butt up and slip the clean nappy underneath my bottom, then powder my butt before you let it drop slowly onto the clean and dry padding. Then you take some rash cream and gently rub it in, taking care to cover the crevices and cracks, making sure my skin will be safe until my next change. A kiss on my belly as you close the nappy up, and the four tapes sealed shut, and I’m all clean and dry. For now. I sit up just as you’re rolling up my used nappy, and get a look at the entire packet of wipes that you’ve used to clean me up. I go a little shy and nervous, and watch as you take the heavy nappy, seal it in a nappy sack, then drop it in the bin. I stifled a giggle at the thudding noise it made as it hit the bottom. Then remembered I needed clothes. I raised my arms in the air waiting for you to help me put my shirt and jumper back on. You took the hint. In a few minutes I was dressed and ready to go. And now I wasn’t feeling quite so ashamed, I remembered I was trying to be a brat and get out of this silly nappy. Stepping out onto the concourse I was a little nervous. We’d been in the bathroom for a long time, but so many people had seen us go in, someone must still be around. I felt my cheeks flush with heat again, and reached for your hand. “It’s OK,” you said, a calm tone to your voice, “you’ve had an accident and had your nappy changed. That’s all. Nothing out of the ordinary.” Once again your matter of fact attitude put me at ease. The next step of the journey was largely uneventful. A short trip on an underground train. You led me across the station to the correct platform, and we waited for the train to arrive. When it did it was packed. You ushered me on first, and followed right behind, both of us squeezing into the packed carriage. I decided to have a little fun, and rubbed my padded butt against your body, trying to turn you on. It seemed only fair after what you’d done to me during my change. I smiled to myself as I did. Not that you’d see, given there hadn’t even been room for me to turn around. After a few moments you smelled something. At least you decided that you had. I heard your voice in my ear, a little too loud for how busy the train was, “Have you had an accident Honey? Something smells stinky”. I blushed hard and shook my head. Then I felt your hand on my butt. “I can’t really tell here. I’ll have to find somewhere to check you when we get off”. That put an end to my teasing you. A couple of stops down the line the carriage emptied out a little, and I was finally able to turn around and pout at you. Of course, with the delay, it didn’t really have he effect I was hoping for, but I knew why I was pouting at you, even if you thought I was just pulling a silly face. Three more stops and it was our turn to get off. You guided me onto the escalator in front of you, and as we went up I felt a tug on the back of my diaper. I decided to not turn around, to avoid drawing attention to what you were doing, but as we got to the top I gave you a look of disapproval. “It’s OK, Kittenface, you’re not stinky” you said, a cute smile on your stupid face. I wanted to pout, but I felt my nappy grow warmer as I peed. I hadn’t even realised I needed to go, and right in front of you, looking you in the eyes, I’d wet myself. “Straight to the aquarium?,” you said, “Or shall we get a drink first?” I don’t know if you hadn’t noticed, or were just trying to remind me that my accidents weren’t an issue, but your lack of reaction meant that all of a sudden I didn’t care that I’d wet myself. “Drink please” I said. You led me out of the station, and towards a bubble tea shop. As we got inside and I started looking at the menu, I realised that I was kind of hungry too. “Is there time for food?” I asked. “There’s time for anything you want,” you replied. “Then can I have a bubble waffle and ice cream?” The last time I asked for something like this, you wanted me that the milk in the ice cream might hurt my tummy. This time though, you just gave me a smile when you said, “of course”. I honestly wasn’t sure what had changed, but I liked this new you. You let me do what I wanted, and didn’t make me feel bad for it. I went and grabbed a table as you got our food and drinks. As I sat there waiting for you, I felt a little twinge in my bladder. It wasn’t strong, but I knew I needed to pee. So I did. There and then. Just as you arrived with our drinks and my bubble waffle. “I need to check to see if you need a change after this,” you said. I couldn’t tell whether you’d noticed my pee face, or just wanted to knock me off-balance again, but once again you momentarily set my brain to ‘smol’. I gave a nod, then began tucking into my waffle. “So, I’ve got a nice day planned for us” you said, “we start at the aquarium, then stop off at the arcade. Have some lunch, then go on to the museum and the theatre”. I looked up from my waffle, somewhat surprised by the packed itinerary. “Oooor,” you said, drawing out the syllable, “we could have a slightly less busy day, where we do the aquarium, then go for lunch and see how we feel after.” “that one sounds better,” I gently spit crumbs across the table as I reply, “The other one I don’t think we’d have time to enjoy any of it.” “You’re a very wise kitty,” you reply, “even if you do talk with your mouth full. How’s your waffle?” Learning from my error, I stick my thumb up as I finish my mouthful, “want a bite?” You dive in, taking a big mouthful. “It’s good” you say, spitting some crumbs back at me, and making me giggle. “Is there anything else you’d like to do today?” you ask. “Comic shop?” I say, “and the board games store?” You nod. “That was always going to happen. Anything else?” I lean in and whisper, “Maybe we could have some play time when we get home?” You smile. “I’m sure we can make that happen.” I finish my waffle and my bubble tea. “Right, Potty Pants, time for a nappy change” you say. “You don’t want to check me first?” I smirk “I know you’re soggy” you say, “I watched you pee your pants twice.” I blush. “Now before we do that, I want you to try to make a pushie for me.” you say “Here?” I ask, surprised. “Here” you say. I lift myself slightly off my seat and do my best to poop. After a minute or so you stop me,”Anything?” I shake my head. “Well done for trying” you say. You grab the bag and usher me out of my seat, then take me into the bathroom. Its small. Much smaller than the one in the station. “We’re going to have to do this standing up” you say, already unbuttoning my jeans. You look at my yellowed, pee-soaked nappy. “Good thing I decided to change you now” you say, before turning me around and checking the back for a mess. “OK, no mess, let’s get you out of your soggy pants” You say as you untape my nappy, and let it drop to the floor. You begin wiping me down. Once again the cool wipes feel good as they clean my skin. Although this time the clean up is much quicker. Once I’m clean you take a thick nappy from your bag, and hold it up against my butt, then gently guide me to the wall so that you can use it to hold the nappy up. “Not sure how easy it’ll be to get you changed at the aquarium” you say, as I stare at the thick nappy a little surprised, “so I thought I’d put you in this in case it’s an issue.” “But people will notice” I pout. You shrug, “They’d notice leak marks on your clothes and a puddle on the floor much more” you say. I can’t fault your logic, but I definitely don’t like it. Safely taped in you pull my jeans back up. In spite of how thick the nappy is, it’s still not too obvious, but as I move the crinkling sound is much louder than from my other nappy. “You ready for the fishes?” you ask. I nod, grinning, then you lead me back out, the thick nappy making me waddle a little as I follow behind you. ***** The entrance to the aquarium is busy, and theres a security screening arch with a bag scanner. I squeeze your hand as I relaise the guards are about to see my nappies. “It’s OK,” you say, reassuring me, “you’re in nappies for a reason, and the guards don’t care.” That’s not entirely true. As the bag goes through they pull us aside. Rather than give a longwinded explanation for the contents, you gently lift my jumper up, giving the guard a glimpse of the waistband of my nappy. I blush, and squeeze your hand harder, but in spite of the little embarrassment, you probably made the right decision. Anything else would have involved them pulling the nappies out while you explain that I’m padded. This way the only person who knows about my secret is the security guard. The other side of security are lockers, and a sign asking people to store large bags to avoid overcrowding. “We’re going to have to leave this here” you say. “Do you want me to take an emergency change out?” I nod. “The only problem is we’ve not got anything to carry it in”. “No then” I say, mortified by the idea of openly carrying a nappy as we walk around the aquarium. “Good thing I put you in a thick one then” you tease. The lighting in the first room of the aquarium is dim, and the air is cool. There’s something slightly dreamy about being in a dark room where one whole wall is a giant fishtank. I rush up to it and stare at the fish. I have no idea which ones are which, but I don’t care. This is fascinating. From high up in the tank a huge fish comes swimming down, swooping through the water. I’m so engrossed in it all that I don’t notice you behind me until you wrap me in a hug. “Enjoying yourself?” you say. I nod and grin, “shall we go into the next room?” We walked through into the next area, open-topped tanks filled with rays, sharks and dogfish. I climbed the stairs to look from above, stumbling a little as my nappy made me waddle. I felt your hand on my arm, helping me stay upright, “You OK?” you asked. I nodded. Your hand moved down to my crotch, and you gave a subtle squeeze of the front of my nappy. “I think you might need to be a bit more careful on stairs” you say, “your nappy’s swelling because it’s soggy”. “I’m not soggy” I protested. Then prodded the front of my nappy. It had definitely swelled since you put it on me. I’d peed myself. When did that happen? You’d changed me less than an hour ago. You saw the look of confusion on my face. “It’s OK, you had an accident. That’s not a problem, is it?” I shook my head, and gave you a cuddle. “I guess not”. You led me down the stairs and into the next room, There were only small tanks here, but there was a series of interactive displays with screens and games and puzzles. One of the games involved downloading an app, then being given a list of fish to ‘collect’ by running between the tanks and photographing the correct one. I couldn’t resist. I was onto my fourth fish, an elusive little panda guppy, when I felt my tummy grumble. I thought about letting you know, but I was enjoying myself and didn’t want to stop. I was also worried, given the bag was at the entrance, that you’d make us cut our trip short. So I just kept on with my hunt. A little bit more searching, and I’d bagged my guppy. Next up the harlequin rasbora.My tummy cramped a little. I glanced around. You were sitting at a screen, playing one of the games, and no one else was in the room. I braced, gave a little push, and felt some mess slip out into my nappy. I patted my bottom, and sniffed the air. It didn’t seem that much and not that noticeable, so I went back to my search. It took me another ten minutes or so to find the last four fish. At the end of the search walked over to the screen where I’d downloaded the app, scanned the completion code, and watched all my fish appear on the screen. It then congratulated me and told me I could collect a prize from the gift shop at the end. I got really excited and ran over to you to show you the screen. I’m sure I saw you sniff as I came near you, but I was too excited to worry about that. You gave me a little hug, then got up. Before I realised what was happening, you turned me round and checked that no one else was in the room, then pulled the back of my jeans and nappy. “Thought so” I heard you say. I blushed. “Are we going to have to leave to get me changed?” I said, my voice tinged with sadness and disappointment. You shook your head, “no, it’s OK, it’s not very noticeable, you’ll be fine a bit longer, but If you realise you’ve had another stinky accident I’d like you to let me know, so that if it is bad we can deal with it.” I nodded. “Uh-huh”. “Shall we go onto the next area?” you asked. I nodded. You led me through the doors into the next area. It was a tunnel, a long, glass one, cutting through an enormous water tank. Fish of all sorts swam through it, and i was incredible. A ray sailed over our heads, and I stopped to watch it. “There was no way I was going to let you miss out on this” you said to me, “no matter how bad an accident you’d had”. I giggled. “I’d have been very sad if you had”. Then I turned to you and gave you a big kiss on the lips. As I pulled away I looked in your eyes and smiled, “I still owe you a teasing for when you were changing me”, We continued on through the tunnel, going slowly as we marveled at the fish swimming above our heads, then emerged into the next room - another activity room. There were a lot more people in here than the last one, and most of the activities were taken up. I made a beeline for one of the empty ones, which had a screen at the top of a wall with various pictures and buttons on it. You walked around the room, looking at the signs on the wall, while I played. The game was OK, but was nowhere near as fun as the fish-finding one I’d played in the other room. The screen would display a fish, then I’d have to find the area of the world it lived in, and how deep it lived. The buttons were in rows and columns, with the columns representing a sea or ocean, and the rows showing the depth - shallowest at the top, deepest at the bottom. It started out as fun, but as I went on i found crouching down and standing up over and over was getting kind of tiring. It was also making my tummy feel grumbly again. I crouched down again, pressing the deepest button to show where the blobfish lived, and as I did my tummy cramped. Without much thought, I gave a push. Unlike the last mess, which was more like a lumpy fart, this was a big, semi-solid poop - the result of the ice cream I’d had earlier making my tummy go haywire. It also smelled pretty awful. I panicked. I knew there couldn’t be many more rooms left, and we’d already been here a good couple of hours, but I didn’t want to have to rush through and leave before we’d done the aquarium properly. I finally stood back up, and kept playing the game. After a few more fish I’d finished. I looked around the room, and saw you were still walking around looking at signs. I gently brushed my hand against my butt. The seat of my jeans was being pushed out by the poop. There was no way you wouldn’t realise what I’d done the minute I came back to you. If you didn’t smell it, you’d definitely see it. I spotted a hard stool in a corner of the room. That would help. I waddled over to it, and sat on the stool, doing my best to smoosh the poop and hide the bluge. I had no idea whether that had worked, but it definitely made the smell worse. To a point where people were looking round trying to work out where it was coming from. There was no way I could stay here. I decided to go find you, and hope that you wouldn’t notice what I’d done. By that point you’d stopped walking around the room, and were standing in the centre, watching me. I came up to you, a little unsteady on my feet as my nappy was now extremely bulky and pushing my legs apart. “What were you doing there, Kitty-cat?” you asked. “Nuthin’” I said, as innocently as possible, “My legs hurt after playing that game, and I wanted to sit down for a minute”. “OK” you said, a tone of disbelief in your voice “Is that why you were crouching down while you were playing it as well?” I didn’t realise you’d seen that. Now would be a perfect time to come clean about my accident like you’d asked me to do. You did say you’d get it sorted, but that would definitely involve going to the entrance to get the changing bag, and then we’d have to leave.. I nodded. “No other reason?” you asked, probing. I moved my head towards you to whisper a reply, then thought about how much I wanted to see what was in the next rooms. I shook my head instead. “Nope”. “Come on then” you said, taking my left hand in yours and ushering me towards the exit. I wondered why you’d chosen to do that, until I felt your right hand on my bottom. You had positioned it slightly underneath, so that it was exactly on the area that was messy, then you put pressure on it, making the mess stick to my butt, reminding me exactly of what I had done. You whispered in my ear, “I think someone has had a very stinky accident?” At this point there was no sense in lying any more. You knew. You’d always known. You even watched me poop my nappy. “Nu-uh!” I whined, “It’s just that the room is smelly”. “Oh? OK” you say as we get to the door. “So it’ll smell better in the next room then?” I shrug, “I don’t know. I’ve not been here before. Maybe?” “Let’s find out” You say as you lead me through the door. The next room has pictures of most of the fish we saw previously on the walls, acting as a bit of a summary of what we’ve seen. From what I could tell it served as a build up to the next room, which must have been the crescendo of the experience. It certainly didn’t seem like people found this room particularly interesting, as it was completely empty. “Nope,” you say, “it definitely doesn’t smell better here”. There’s a tone of frustration in your voice, although from the look on your face it seems to be more for effect rather than genuine. You stop me, just as we’re far enough through for the door to close behind us, and I feel your hand move from my bottom up to the top of my jeans. There’s a slight rush of cool air as you pull back the waistband of my nappy, and the smell gets worse. “ “For someone who hasn’t had an accident,” you say, “there’s an awful lot of poo in your nappy”. You spin me around so I can see your face. You look calm and amused, and your eyes have a wonderful mix of kindness and concern. “Being serious for a minute,” you say, a measured tone to your voice, “I’m not upset you’ve had an accident. Remember, it doesn’t matter, and if you want me to just make it better and make the embarrassment go away, all you need to do is ask”. I nod, my eyes welling up as I try to fight back tears. I wrap my arms around you in a tight hug, Squeezing hard and not letting go for a minute or so. Then I let go, and step back, my head bowed a little. I have no idea what’s coming next, but I know you’re usually pretty creative with my punishments, making them fit the ‘crime’. You take my hand. There’s an accessible toilet in one corner of the room. You lead me into it and close the door. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light. It’s much brighter in here than in the rest of the aquarium. When they do, I realise you’re unbuttoning my jeans. “Did you manage to bring a change?” I say, hope in my voice. “No.” you say, the stern, matter of fact tone to your voice that you’d had earlier coming back. You let my jeans drop to the floor. As I go to step out of them you stop me. “You’ll keep those around your ankles, please”, you say. It’s not a request. You then pull my tshirt and jumper off, leaving them dangling around my wrists. “Don’t let that come off of your wrists under any circumstances”. I nod my head. Your tone, and the situation, has stopped any hint of bratiness. “Now tell me what happened, please” you say, sitting on the closed toilet lid and watching me intently. There’s a slight hissing noise, as without warning or sensation, I lose control and wet my nappy. When it stops I begin to speak. “I didn’t know I needed to poo, then I needed to poo. And it just. I felt a cramp, and then I pushed. I didn’t realise it was going to be so much, and I didn’t want to have to stop having fun just because I’d pooed my nappy. So I tried to keep playing. Then when the game ended, i realised that you might see that my nappy had got bigger at the back so I sat down to try to squish the poo. I didn’t mean to be bad, I just didn’t want to have to leave” The words had started coming out slowly, but sped up as I spoke. Until I got to the bit about sitting down, where the emotion overwhelmed me, and I had to choke out the last bit through tears. By the time I finished speaking I was sobbing uncontrollably. “Come over here please” you said, and I shuffled across the floor, my gait restricted by my nappy and my jeans. You take my hand and begin stroking it reassuringly. “Do you know why you’re being punished?” “Because I didn’t tell you that I’d had an accident? And I tried to hide it from you?” I sniffled. You shook your head , “Because you knew you’d had an accident, but you lied to me. Again and again.” “I just didn’t want to leave” I said, once again sobbing harder. “I know, kitten-face,” you say, using my hand to pull me across your lap, “and you won’t be yet. Not until I decide.” I’m just processing this when I feel a firm slap on the bottom of my nappy. It doesn’t hurt - it would be difficult to hurt me through the padding - but the combination of the thudding, and the sensation of my mess being moved around my nappy with every blow makes me zone out, my brain slipping into a little-ish headspace. After ten swipes you stop hitting. Instead you rub my back, soothing me. You reach into your pocket and pull out my pacifier, slipping it into my mouth, then help me stand up, before guiding me to sit on your lap so you can hug me. I don’t know how long you spend cuddling me, but it’s soothing. At some point I’d stopped sobbing, and was contentedly suckling my pacifier and smiling a little. “OK, stinky-butt” you say, “time to get your clothes back on and get moving”. I stand up, still in a bit of a daze, and let you slip my tops back over my head, and pull my jeans up. They barely fit over my nappy, and the waistband is now very obvious above them. Although the smell of my mess is pretty obvious even if people can’t see my nappy. Before you open the door, you pop the pacifier out of my mouth and slip it back into your pocket. Then you lead me out into the boring room. “I meant what I said about staying until I decide we’re done, by the way” you said, that firm tone back to your voice, “as you don’t seem to care about everyone knowing you’ve messed your nappy, we’re going to keep looking around here until I decide that we can go and get you changed.” I try to work out what you mean by that, but before I can ask any questions, you’ve led me through into the next room. Which again is absolutely full of people. My grip on your hand tightens unconsciously. It won’t be too long before people start to notice that there’s a smell. And that I’m the source. I’m so worried about the people, that I don’t notice the room we’re in. Like the first room, it’s dark, and there’s a whole wall that’s an aquarium tank, but this one is monumental. It’s at least two stories tall, and it’s curved, stretching around the room so we can step inside the curve and be surrounded by the tank on nearly all sides. You lead me towards the curve. Although it is busy, it’s not so bad that we can’t get a good spot. You wrap your arms around me again, and we stand, just looking at the fish, enjoying the moment together. People may well have noticed my messy nappy, but right now I’m completely absorbed by us and I don’t care at all. “How are you feeling?” you ask. “Really happy” I reply. “I was never going to interrupt what we’re doing just to change your nappy.” you say, your voice soothing and calm, “the whole point of them is that you get to enjoy things. To have fun, without having to worry about accidents. And it’s not your fault you’re stinky. It’s the aquarium making it hard for you to be able to change.” My eyes begin to well with tears again, and I give you a big kiss.
  11. This story is a translation from an unfinished story I wrote in French a few years back. I've changed up a few little things, but it's still mostly the same. I'm translating it in small bits at a time, but I'm also planning to keep going once I reach the end of what I originally wrote. Hopefully you guys enjoy it! The Awakening Chapter 1: A brutal awakening Everything is foggy. I’m trying to wake up. I feel like I’m trying to swim up from the depths of the ocean. Darkness turns to gray, then to blinding light. I’ve opened my eyes. It takes a few attempts until I’m able to keep them open for more than a second or two. I think I also dozed off in between those attempts. I’m not really sure. Eventually though, it seems like I’m able to keep them open. Where am I? My vision is very clouded, but I can see I’m lying in a bed. I think it’s a hospital bed : the room does look a lot like a hospital room. I’m covered with a very light sheet. I feel so weak, I can barely lift my head. There’s a pole next to me, with a bag of solute hung onto it and a tube goes from it straight into my arm. I feel like I’ve been asleep for months. But as much as I try, I can’t remember being in any sort of accident or anything that might lead to me being hospitalized. How long have I been here? My vision is awful, but as I look around me, I don’t notice any flowers, cards or any of the kind of stuff you would typically expect if I had been in a hospital and I had been visited by friends and family. Either it hasn’t been long enough for that to happen, or, and it makes me shudder to think, I've been there for so long that this kind of “get well” stuff has been removed and not replaced. That or maybe movies have been lying to me all my life about how these things go. This thought is enough to make me smile weakly. On that thought, I also realize that this hospital is weirdly silent. If this were really a hospital, wouldn’t there be nurses and people walking about everywhere? But I can’t hear anyone, as if I were completely alone. This thought wakes me up a little bit more, and I’m starting to feel tinges of panic making its way across the thick fog of my mind. With great pain, I try to move my arms, but try as I might, I feel like my arms have been replaced by wet spaghetti. With great effort, I move my head to look at them through my foggy vision. It’s hard to be sure, but from what I can see it seems like my arms are extremely skinny. I’ve never been fat, but those arms look like what you’d see in an african famine documentary! My heart starts beating faster as panic once again creeps into me. How long have I been here? I feel a piece of rubber near my hand. Moving my fingers to touch it, I think it’s another tube, and I think it’s going under the sheets. The discomfort I feel around my privates confirms that this must be a catheter. In fact, this piece of tube going inside me is so uncomfortable I wonder how I didn’t notice it before, though I’m still so numb to everything that maybe it isn’t all that surprising. For the first time the thought truly crosses my mind : I was in a coma. And looking at my arms, it seems obvious that I’ve been in that state for at least some time. Immediately I start thinking of those stories where people awaken after years in a coma and struggle to get back to their old life because it’s been so long. How long would it take for me to lose as much weight as I did? I try to remember how old I am. How.. old? I… I can’t remember. A vague memory of entering a brand new apartment flashes in my mind. And entering university? So I’m.. college aged? I try to reason. At most, I must have been asleep a couple weeks, maybe a few months at the max. People who wake up from a coma after years are extremely rare, and when they do they’re basically vegetables, unable to do anything for themselves. Vegetable. That word makes me feel a deep pit in my stomach. The silence of the room becomes suffocating. I don't understand why I haven’t seen a nurse yet. Shouldn’t I be hooked up to a machine that would warn them if I woke up, or something like that? I try to scream, but the only sound I’m able to produce is a pathetic moan. This attempt at screaming sends a wave of deep nausea across my body. It feels like I haven’t moved a muscle in years. A fresh wave of nausea mixed in with panic besieges me at the thought that this might actually be the case. I keep moaning, with barely enough strength to do it. Suddenly, I hear a door open, and can see the silhouette approaching. It’s speaking to me, but all I can make out is complete gibberish. I try moving my limbs, but once again, I can barely move any muscle in my body. Suddenly, through the gibberish, I can hear my name: “Miss Filion”. This woman’s voice knows my name. I’m actually in a hospital. They’re gonna help me. I’m gonna get better. Relieved that I am safe, but mostly because of exhaustion, I sink back into a deep slumber. I awaken once more, this time to a male voice. The owner of that voice flashes a huge smile upon seeing my eyes open. More gibberish follows: “Miss Filion! Welcome back among us, my dear one! I am doctor Brodeur. I’m the one who took care of your case since you’ve arrived here. - Oh, we have retinal reflex! She can even follow with her eyes!” As he was speaking his incoherent words, he pointed a small light in my eyes, and was waving it left and right in front of them. With great pain, I followed that light, having some vague idea that this is what I was supposed to do. I can hear how delighted he sounds after I do that, and it makes me weirdly proud. It’s weird, I feel like I should understand the words he’s saying, but somehow they’re all scrambled when I hear them. At least I can recognize the emotions in them. I attempt a weak smile to show the doctor I’m aware. I can feel spit dripping from the side of my mouth. “Miss, can you tell me what your name is?” I can hear his voice. I can hear that he’s asking me a question. I can even recognize that he’s speaking English. But I just can’t make out the meaning of what he’s saying. My pride turns to distress. I can’t understand him. I’m a vegetable. Fuck no no no no no! It seems that he’s noticed how agitated I’ve become. “Calm down, calm down! Everything is ok! You’ve been in a coma for a long time. You need to be patient!” A single word makes its way through to my broken brain: Coma. In a coma. I try to repeat the word: “aaaaaaaaah”. I’m pathetic. I can’t speak anymore. I forgot how to. I truly am a vegetable! But I did hear the word. Coma. And I am thinking to myself, speaking to myself using words in my head. Maybe I’m not completely a vegetable. I’m here. I am here. The doctor, seemingly in reaction to my attempt at vocalizing, speaks what I suppose are encouraging words. I don’t know what he’s saying, and I once again feel myself drifting off to sleep.
  12. A well-fitting adult diaper should be both snug and comfortable. The elastic around the waist and leg openings secures the diaper while providing ample room for movement without causing chafing or discomfort. As a result, wetting a diaper feels more natural as it contours to your body shape. High-quality adult diapers are made from soft, absorbent materials that wick moisture away from the skin. The gentle fabric helps reduce irritation and keeps the wearer dry and comfortable. When wetting a diaper, this material quickly absorbs urine, preventing uncomfortable wetness. 🤍 Physical Comfort Diapers offer reassurance against leaks and accidents, relieving stress and anxiety High-quality adult diapers are made from soft and absorbent materials, helping to reduce skin irritation and maintain dryness A well-fitting diaper ensures snugness and comfort, making the experience more natural as it adapts to the wearer’s body shape Psychological Comfort Diapers provide a sense of security Protection against leaks and accidents is incredibly reassuring The feeling of safety helps relieve the stress and anxiety associated with bathroom emergencies Why does wearing a wet diaper feel so good? It brings back comforting childhood memories and provides security It offers relief from stress or anxiety by allowing one to let go of control over bodily functions The convenience factor also plays a role – not having to rush to the restroom when nature calls can be quite liberating Conclusion The sensation of wetting a diaper may feel good due to psychological and physical factors. The security of knowing you’re protected against leaks and accidents can bring relief from stress and anxiety, while soft materials and a good fit contribute to overall comfort. Remember that enjoying this sensation is entirely normal. So long as you maintain proper hygiene, wearing an adult diaper can help you live your life confidently and easily. The protection offered instills confidence The convenience allows more freedom over bodily functions Diapers alleviate stress by providing a safe and secure physical barrier Individual experiences vary and what may feel good to one person might not be the same for another. Overall, wearing a wet diaper could be seen as an indulgence in personal comfort and relaxation for those who enjoy it. @
  13. This is similar to a recent post by @DLJeff52about “oh” moments. I’m sure those of us who used to be continent ABDLs will appreciate why I bring this up. For most ABDL’s, wearing diapers is something special that we excitedly indulge in, not to mention the taboo aspect of wanting to wear diapers. And yet here I am: “Stuck” in diapers, hopefully for the rest of my life. Anyways yesterday evening I went to change on my bed, I took off my diaper already but then I got sidetracked looking at something online that popped up on my phone. In comes my vanilla partner (they are very accepting) who noticed I’m not changed and I don’t have an incontinence pad under me. Annoyed, my partner admonished me to put my phone down and change before I leak. Honestly I wasn’t that worried about leaking because I had just voided a ton right before then and I was almost done with the article so I figured I’d probably be okay for at least a few minutes. But I thought better of arguing this point and went and diapered up. So yeah, it’s still weird to be told to diaper up quickly by someone else out of a genuine fear of leaks. ?
  14. This story has been on hiatus for but while I deal with ... life. But I'm picking it up again and getting back to more regular updates, so I figured I may as well start sharing it here as well. I've been a part of the Invader Zim fandom for a while, and there's barely any ABDL content there, so I had to fix that. Chapter 1: Once is an Accident ... i. “GAHHH!! FUCK YOU, GIR!!!!” The shout from the kitchen had Dib launching himself off the couch and sliding to a halt on the tile in his socks in no time flat. He was greeted with the sight of pink milkshake over every conceivable surface; the ceiling, the counter, the walls, the table, and all over both a thoroughly amused GIR and a very angry Zim. “Shit, Zim,” Dib groaned. “I told you messing with your PAK in the kitchen was a bad idea.” Zim’s PAK sat open on the kitchen table, half dismantled from Zim’s attempt at installing an upgrade. Zim’s body seemed to have shielded it slightly, but it was still spattered with sticky pink liquid. “I didn’t think he was gonna start the blender with the top off!! ” Zim shouted, aggravated, as he rushed to mop up the mess with his shirt before it seeped too far into his PAK. “I can’t put it back on like this!!” Dib checked his watch. He’d been keeping a countdown to make sure Zim’s PAK wasn’t off for longer than the ten minute maximum. “We’ve got eight minutes before it becomes a problem. GIR —” He looked over at the robot, who was currently trying to lick milkshake out of the blender, “— start cleaning up the kitchen.” GIR saluted and gave a shrill, “Okie dokie!!!” before dashing off to grab some towels. “My life is starting to flash before my eyes, Dib!!!” Zim whined as Dib grabbed a handful of napkins and briefly ran them under the faucet. “We’ve still got time, you fucking drama queen,” Dib admonished, shoving a the napkins at Zim. “Start cleaning up with those, and I’ll follow with some rubbing alcohol to make sure everything’s dry before you plug it back in.” Zim nodded and they quickly got to work. It wasn’t long before the tight space made their tag team effort more difficult than Dib had planned, however, especially as Zim’s coordination rapidly spiraled downwards. After watching him smear strawberry chunks around for an agonizing thirty seconds, Dib finally pushed his hands aside. “We’ve got five minutes,” Dib warned. “Let me finish this and you just try to stay conscious.” Zim’s skin was an ashy shade of green and his eyes were glassy and unfocused. Even when all he had to do was sit still, he was visibly trembling. “I don’t feel so good, Dib,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know, bug, but just hang in there.” Despite the tension in the air, Dib tried harder than ever to maintain a calm demeanor, reassuring Zim in dulcet tones while scrubbing away at the sticky goo spattered all over. Behind him, he could hear GIR mostly pushing the rest of the disaster around, and he was positive he was going to need to clean that up later, as well. As the minutes ticked down, Dib’s anxiety rose like a tsunami, threatening to crash down on him every time Zim moaned in discomfort. He was down to his last minute before he knew it, and there was still a cluster of wires he had yet to clean. It was just out of reach and if he had more than sixty seconds left, he would have grabbed a cotton swab to finish cleaning them off. As it was, he twisted a napkin to give it a bit of rigidity, and blindly stuffed it in while checking his watch. “Shit.” Thirty seconds left. He shook his head and pulled his makeshift cleaning device back out. “This’ll have to do, Zim.” He leaned over and hauled Zim up onto his lap. The poor little Irken was barely even responding at this point. With seconds to spare, Dib lifted the PAK to Zim’s back and the cables shot out to reconnect with the ports on Zim’s back. Zim’s eyelids fluttered and he groaned incomprehensibly, but as he squinted and rubbed his eyes, the color was beginning to return to his cheeks. “You feeling alright?” Dib asked nervously. That last spill had been worryingly close to an awful lot of connections. Zim nodded, sliding off Dib’s lap and onto the floor. He did a couple toe touches, stretched his arms, and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. “Yep. Everything seems to be in or—” A sudden zap of electricity made his body convulse and PAK spark. Dib watched in silent horror as Zim suddenly went limp and fell to the floor, antennae twitching twice before falling still. Before a single coherent thought could pass through Dib’s head, he jumped up and grabbed the silicone pot holders from the counter and used them to turn Zim onto his side. The Irken didn’t seem to be breathing, but it was difficult to tell for sure. Dib retrieved his phone from his pocket and held it under Zim’s mouth, waiting for it to fog up. When it didn’t, a sick knot of realization began to form in Dib’s belly. He had no idea how to give an alien CPR. He had a vague idea of Zim’s internal structure, but the question of how to restart things had simply never come up. And when even successful human CPR led to a few broken ribs, he was leery of injuring Zim further. “Stand clear.” The robotic, monotone voice sent Dib scurrying backwards in a panic. Had Zim’s PAK really just spoken ??? Was it allowed to do that on its own?? That question certainly hadn’t ever cropped up before in all the years they’d known each other. Another jolt of electricity arced between Zim’s antennae, making his muscles twitch and jerk for a few painfully slow seconds before he was still once more. Dib leaned forward, heart hammering in his chest and breath stuck in his throat. “Zim?” he whispered, reaching out with a shaking hand. Zim’s face screwed up and he let out a low groan before opening his bleary eyes. “S-sugar …” he mumbled. Dib fell forwards and hugged him tightly. “Oh thank fuck!! I thought you died!!” “Ow … I did ,” Zim grumbled. Dib sat up so fast he saw stars. “ What‽‽ ” Zim laboriously pushed himself up into a sitting position and rubbed his temples. “Well, I’m not dead now, idiot. My systems reset themselves,” he said thickly. “Death is rarely a permanent state, Dibby.” “God forbid there be a normal day in this household,” Dib sighed as GIR scooted by on a towel, oblivious and smearing pink stickiness across everything in his wake. Zim groaned and rubbed his head. “Getting reset depletes sugar reserves, so I’m going to need you to get me off this floor and grab me a snack before I keel over again.” Zim still seemed too weak to properly hold on to anything, so Dib lifted him in a bridal carry and carefully walked him to the couch. He set Zim down, propped up against the pillows, and gently touched a hand to Zim’s cheek. His skin was clammy and slightly pale, but at least he was obviously alive. “Are you gonna be alright?” Dib asked worriedly. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just grab me a glass of Tang and a couple sugar cookies,” Zim replied in much more subdued tones. Dib gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “You got it.” He strode into the kitchen, but stopped dead at the edge of the tile. GIR was sprawled out on the floor, attempting to make milkshake angels. Dib sighed, edged around the kitchen, and opened one of the cupboards to fish around for a bucket. Once he’d located one — and dumped out all the junk it contained — he filled it with soap, water, and a bit of rubbing alcohol. GIR did better when the list of steps to complete a task was as small as humanly possible, so mixing the cleaning solution before handing the task off reduced the opportunity for errors. “Alright, you’ve had enough fun,” Dib said irritably, shoving the bucket at a thoroughly unphased GIR. “I don’t care if you strap sponges to your feet or make yourself a towel taco, I just need this mess gone.” “Caaaan dooooo,” GIR yelled, snatching the bucket from him and dashing towards the sponges as soapy water sloshed onto the floor. Dib skirted out of his way and busied himself with grabbing Zim’s requested snack. He returned to the living room with a plate of sugar cookies and Tang in one of GIR’s sippy cups. Zim gave the cup a slightly hard stare, but ultimately shook his head and didn’t question the choice. “So I was thinking,” Dib said as he carefully sat down beside Zim, “we should take it easy for the rest of the day, considering you died for around forty-five seconds. We can just hole up and watch some horror movies, get some soda and kettle corn into you, that sort of thing.” Zim snuggled against Dib, head on his chest. “Works for me. I still feel … Ugh , it’s hard to put into words,” he grumbled, taking a long sip of his drink. “Something feels off, but I can’t explain it.” Dib frowned, numerous worries occupying the back of his brain. “We could take your PAK off again and try to do a more thorough job of cleaning it out?” he offered. “Not right now,” Zim said, squeezing his eyes shut. “If you take too long, it’s going to be that much harder on my body. I’m really not in any shape for that right now.” He nestled in closer, as if proximity to Dib would fix things. “I just …” He looked up at Dib, concern scrawled across his face. “Hold me?” he asked, voice barely a whisper. Dib’s expression softened to one that was very nearly pity. Zim had a habit of being a pain in the ass and prickly more often than not, but he regularly demanded physical comfort whenever he was feeling less than stellar for any reason. “Yeah,” Dib replied gently. “But let me grab you some kettle corn and cocoa, first.” Zim shook his sippy cup and raised his eyebrows. “In a mug?” “In a thermos ,” Dib corrected. “I don’t need you spilling all over the couch when the kitchen is already a disaster.” An hour or so later, as morning spilled into golden autumn afternoon, the kitchen was finally clean and they were midway through one of Dib’s favorite horror movies. Zim sat snuggled under multiple blankets on Dib’s lap with a belly pleasantly full of warm drinks and sugary snacks. His color has finally returned to normal and he was no longer shivering. By all accounts, he was back to normal. Still, though, he couldn’t shake the feeling something was different . As he struggled to pin down exactly what or why , a sudden crescendo of music crashed through the speakers in a cheap jump scare, startling Zim back to the present with a horribly unwelcome jolt. He was suddenly glad that Dib had insisted on giving him all his drinks in containers with a top. He grumbled under his breath, ruffled, before settling back down against Dib, vaguely aware that the space between them felt a bit warmer than it had a minute ago. Beneath him, Dib shifted slightly, froze, then freed his arm from around Zim to blindly feel around under the blankets for a moment before coming to a rest. “Er … Zim?” “What?” Zim asked gruffly, still miffed that the movie had managed to startle him as badly as it did. “Did you lose your phone again? Because I’m not getting up this time.” Dib opened his mouth, let out a sort of strangled sigh, then bit the inside of his cheek, brow furrowed. “Did you … uh. Jesus, there is no easy way to ask this …” He pressed his palm to his forehead before spitting out in a single breath, “ Please tell me you just spilled your cocoa. ” Zim turned and raised an eyebrow, holding up his thermos. “No? Why are you—” As he shifted, he finally felt what Dib was talking about, and his eyes went wider than flying saucers. “ Oh my god , Zim,” Dib groaned, taking him under the arms and lifting him away like a badly behaved cat. As he stood up and the blankets fell away, there was no question what had happened. Both their pants were soaked, along with a sizeable portion of the cushion beneath them. Zim stood in a small puddle, dripping and purple-faced with embarrassment. “How did you not feel that??” Dib asked, more baffled than upset. “Everything was already really warm!” Zim insisted frantically. Dib gave him a look that was equal parts worry and horror. “You didn’t even feel like you had to go??” Zim tossed his arms up in frustration. “Do I look like I’m five?” “I’m not trying to be an ass here, Zim,” Dib insisted, trying to tone down his intensity to something Zim would find less offensive. “I just need to know if you had any idea this was gonna happen, before it happened.” “Of course I—!” Zim stopped mid sentence, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t gotten any of the usual signals. Not so much as a twinge. “I mean, I think … fuck.” He stared down at the puddle around his feet. “I … didn’t feel anything,” he finally admitted in hushed tones. Dib pushed his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose. “Shit. Alright. Well, first of all, you’re banned from screwing with your PAK anymore until we sort this out.” Zim shot him a snide expression. “You can’t ban me from fixing my own brain, Dib!” “Until we figure out exactly what went wrong? Yes, I can.” Dib glanced down at his soaked pants with a frown before seeming to give up and start unbuttoning things. “Just take all your clothes off here,” he instructed as he peeled away his wet clothes. “You take everything up to the wash. I’m gonna shower off and run out to the store real quick.” Zim paused in the middle of attempting to pull his socks off, balancing on one foot. “Why are you going to the store?” he asked, suspicious. Dib’s face contorted into something that was somewhere north of innocence and south of pity. Zim scowled back. “Why are you going to the store, Dib ?” he asked, enunciating each word with palpable malice. Dib held up his hands. “It’s just as an ‘in case’ measure, alright?” Zim sucked in a breath and puffed out his chest, blustering and fuming in what Dib could only imagine was very angry Irken. “It was ONE TIME !!!” he finally spat out, incensed. Dib nervously ran a hand through his hair. “Okay … and if it isn’t just one time?” Zim growled something under his breath, fists at his sides. “It might not be related to the issue with your PAK, but if it is, I’d rather be prepared,” Dib said simply. “You’re not putting me in diapers!” Zim snapped. “Fine. No diapers. But I am gonna grab a pack of pull-ups or something, just in case ,” Dib said as he tossed his underwear onto the pile, trying to remain blasé about the whole thing. Which was a difficult thing to pull off while naked and covered in piss. Zim spied Dib’s cock poking out of a thicket of hair and abruptly looked away before he could get distracted. Not to mention, he was vaguely concerned that getting turned on in wet pants might rewire him in an even worse way. He merely crossed his arms and faced away. “I’ll get you some snacks as a consolation,” Dib said as he turned to walk upstairs. “We’re almost out of Fun Dip, right? I’ll get you more of that.” Zim gathered the clothes and blankets and damp cushion with the help of his PAK legs to steady everything. He’d stupidly put his clothes-cleaning contraption upstairs, but at least he’d had the foresight to put it right outside the lift. The stairs were really just for Dib’s benefit. It was the only way the kid got any exercise, some days. Zim pulled aside one of the large speakers beside the TV to reveal the interior of an elevator, and climbed inside with his bundle. He reached the top just as Dib finished hosing himself off in the shower, and got to work loading the machine with all of the damp clothes and blankets. Dib dressed himself in a flash, hurriedly striding towards the stairs before Zim was even finished. “I’ll be back before you know it!” Dib called on his way down. Zim gave only a non-committal grunt. “Text me if you think of anything you want!” “Hmph.” Zim rolled his eyes and slammed the door to the washer shut, irritably poking at the controls until it chimed happily and began chugging away. Zim waited, one antenna perked, until he heard the front door close and lock behind Dib. His human would be gone for at least ten minutes, and ten minutes was all Zim needed to get back inside his PAK and fix this irritating little hiccup once and for all. ii. Dib’s truck rumbled along the road back home, the breeze from the windows making the bags beside him billow and snap. He caught a glimpse of the package contained inside and felt himself blush slightly. Although the situation was embarrassing and slightly worrying when it came to Zim’s overall health, Dib found that he was strangely un-squicked by recent events. Even though Zim had pissed right in his lap, he hadn’t really found the situation all that revolting. If he hadn’t been so shocked at the time, it might have even been a little hot. Zim, caught in an embarrassing situation, dependent on Dib to make things better … Dib shook his head to clear it as he pulled up to the base. He doubted he could get Zim on board with that sort of roleplay. But he could dream, at least. He killed the engine, grabbed his bags, and hopped out of the truck. Scattered leaves blew across his path, catching on the tacky lawn gnomes Zim still insisted stand guard outside. Dib would have been lying if he said he didn’t find Zim’s sense of decor at least a little amusing. He opened the door and stepped inside. “I’m back!” he shouted cheerily, kicking his shoes off. He started towards the stairs, then stopped dead. The whole base was eerily quiet, except for what he’d initially written off as the wind whistling over the roof. But as he stood there, barely breathing, it had begun to sound an awful lot more like sobbing. “ Zim ??” When there was no answer, Dib dropped his bags and raced up the spiraling steps. He came to a screeching halt at the doorway to their bedroom, where Zim was crumped on the floor, sobbing and sitting in a puddle of something that Dib would have bet money wasn’t tears. Nevertheless, Dib rushed over and scooped Zim up, hugging him close. “What’s wrong??” he asked, rubbing the small of Zim’s back in an attempt to soothe him. “I tried to fix it!!” Zim wailed, breath hitching in his throat. “The wires … they were all — hic!! — fused in the wrong spots. I tried to separate them, but … but once I put my PAK back on, it … it shorted out again. And … and when I woke up I — hic!! — I was on the floor and I know I just made it worse!!” Anger swelled in Dib’s chest for a moment, but it was quickly snuffed out by Zim’s obvious upset. There was nothing to be gained by cussing him out for his actions. He was already suffering the consequences. Plus, the sounds he was making were causing Dib heartache like he’d never felt before. All he wanted was to put things right. “It’s gonna be okay,” Dib murmured, hugging him tightly. Zim shook his head, face buried in Dib’s shoulder. “No, it isn’t !! I don’t know what’s wrong but something just isn’t right!!! ” It was hard for Dib to argue. He’d never seen Zim so worked up before. He’d seen him get a little teary over things or sometimes even cry out of frustration, but he’d never dissolved into such a thoroughly inconsolable state before. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and then we can go back to taking it easy, okay?” Dib said softly. Zim took a few shaky breaths in an attempt to get ahold of himself. “Bath,” he finally mumbled, wiping his eyes. Dib was slightly taken aback. Zim usually avoided anything deeper than a puddle like the plague. “I was just gonna let you shower off, but yeah, we can do a bath, if that’s what you want.” He stood up and carried Zim to the bathroom, watching with growing concern as Zim buried his face in the front of his hoodie. He lowered himself onto the edge of the bathtub and turned on the taps, putting his wrist in the stream to gauge the temperature before plugging the drain and gently setting Zim down. “Get settled. I’ll be right back.” Dib made it to the stairs in a few long strides, descending the steps to retrieve two of the bags he’d dropped by the door. On his way back through the bedroom, he tossed one bag onto the bed, then carried the other with him back into the bathroom. He made it back up in time to see Zim adding a hefty amount of bubble bath to the water. “You’re really going all-in on this, huh?” Dib remarked as he put his back against the wall and slid to a sitting position next to the tub. Zim ducked his head nervously. “It smells nice.” Dib leaned on the edge of the tub and reached out to cup Zim’s cheek, stroking it with his thumb. “Yeah, it does. And that means you’ll smell nice when we’re cuddled up together on the couch, later.” Zim pressed against his hand with a soft purr, eyes closed, a contented smile on his face. Dib’s own sad smile slowly faded as the full weight of the interaction started to hit him. He felt like he was talking to a slightly younger Zim. At the very least, a Zim with all the usual sass and salt stripped out. And that had him worried, sure, but the worst part was, he knew full well that some part of him was enjoying the shift. Taking care of a soft, sweet Zim fulfilled some basic need he didn’t even know he had. Zim slowly opened his eyes, and the pink packaging inside the bag suddenly caught his attention. “Do I even need to ask what that is?” he said wearily. Dib gave a weak smile and finally pulled the package out of the bag. The front graphic showed an earth child in a t-shirt and what appeared at first to be purple underwear. It didn't take Zim’s earth-shattering IQ to be able to guess they weren’t that, at all. “I was a bedwetter for way longer than I care to say,” Dib admitted, cheeks going pink. “So I can personally vouch for this brand. Pluuuus ,” he added in a sing-song tone, “they’re purple and pink! Your favorite colors.” Zim stared blankly for a second, then puffed out his cheeks. “Wow, Dib. I didn’t think I could feel any more self conscious about this, but congratulations.” Dib deflated a bit and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, sorry. Just try to remember that it’s not for forever, alright?” Zim opened his mouth, then closed it and shook his head, thinking better of whatever he was about to say. Instead, he grabbed a washcloth and thrust it at Dib. “There’s still some milkshake on my back,” he said quietly. “I can’t reach it myself. Can you …? Dib took the washcloth from him, dipped it into the bath water, and gently began cleaning him up. There were strawberries caked along the outline of his PAK, along with the general stickiness coating everything. Zim held uncharacteristically still as Dib worked, merely swirling his fingers in the water and watching the bubble trails. “Are you alright?” Dib finally asked after several minutes of silence. “Yeah, Dib. I’ve always wanted to start pissing myself at random. So, you know. Never better,” Zim replied dryly without looking up. “We could keep trying to fix it, you know,” Dib offered as he poured water down Zim’s back to clean under his PAK. “No,” Zim replied sorrowfully, “it’s not just the wires. Some of the chips are damaged, and they’re not like your computer chips. They’re grown, like crystals. So you can’t just slap a new one in there any more than you can take a slice of your brain and replace it.” He leaned his head against the cool tile, eyes closed. “There are tools to regrow broken chips, but I don’t have them. There’s a chance I could pick up what I need on Vort, but that’s not possible right now because of the political situation.” Dib silently wrung out the washcloth and set it on the edge of the tub. “So you’re …” “Stuck like this for the foreseeable future, yeah,” Zim confirmed, swirling the bubbles around with his finger. “And I don’t even know the full extent of what ‘like this’ is .” “You haven’t been losing any of your other faculties, have you?” Dib asked with a concerned frown. Zim shook his head. “No, I just feel weird. Different.” He pushed the water from side to side, watching the frothy waves bounce around the tub as he struggled to find the words. “Smaller, almost,” he finally whispered. “I just want physical comfort and … simple things. I don’t know …” Dib reached out and put a finger under Zim’s chin, making him look up. “You want me to take care of you?” he asked gently. As he looked into Zim’s eyes, there was no denying that something had permanently shifted. The Zim that sat in front of him seemed to be trying to take up as little space as possible. Everything about him seemed to cry out for affection, and Dib wanted nothing more than to give it to him. Zim bit his lip nervously before giving a small nod. “Y-yeah. Being taken care of sounds nice.” Dib leaned forwards and kissed him on his forehead, then sat back on his heels. “Good, because that’s what I was planning to spend the rest of the day doing, anyways.” Dib pulled the stopper out of the drain and shook out a fuzzy purple towel as Zim stood up out of the water with a shiver. In one fluid motion, Dib wrapped Zim up in the towel and whisked him up before the alien could protest. Much to his surprise, this got a genuine laugh out of Zim instead of the usual cussing-out. “Man, you are in some rare moods today,” Dib said as he kissed Zim’s cheek. Zim shrugged self-consciously. “I guess …” His blush made his freckles stand out like stars in a dusty desert twilight, and for a moment, all Dib could do was smile and take it all in. “You’re still going to make me put one of those things on, aren’t you?” Zim asked quietly, face falling as Dib set him down on his feet. “Sorry,” Dib murmured, in lieu of saying ‘yes’. “If it had just been the one accident, I wouldn’t push, but, well.” He shrugged apologetically. “Twice is kind of a pattern.” Zim dried himself off slowly, looking over the packaging that claimed the product enclosed “ looks and feels like real underwear! ” It was a bold claim that Zim wasn’t positive would be able to hold up under scrutiny. It also hammered home the fact that Zim was departing the realm of whatever “real” underwear happened to be, and he had no idea if -- or when -- he’d be returning. The uncertainty left a knot in his guts. As Zim finished drying off his legs, Dib ripped one end of the package open and pulled out something that certainly looked more like a diaper than any sort of adult undergarment Zim had ever seen. Dib handed it over and Zim, still skeptical, took it and examined it closer. At least Dib had done his best to get the good colors. But that was really the only bright spot. Zim pulled the stretchy sides wide enough to step into it, then shimmied it up until the padding was flush with his crotch. He wiggled it around a bit, noting the muted crinkle the thing made as he shifted. He looked up to meet Dib’s eyes. “This is a diaper,” he said with a wry look. “It’s just a pull-up,” Dib corrected. “Call it whatever you want, Dib,” Zim said with a sigh as he walked towards the bedroom closet. “Doesn’t really change what it is. You know. I know.” He gestured half-heartedly towards the packaging. “Even those lying marketing executives probably know.” There wasn’t much Dib could say to that, so he gave Zim a sort of well-meaning pat on the head, and went to dig through the dresser for a change of clothes. After changing into some ridiculously fluffy pajamas, they settled in for an afternoon of sugar and scary movies with the hope of taking Zim’s mind of what a disaster the day had been so far. Zim had been concerned that Dib would want to keep a bit of distance between the two of them, but instead Dib seemed to want him as close as possible. Dib tended to be fairly affectionate as it was, but tonight he was all but smothering Zim with his love, cuddling him and preening his antennae. “Normally I’d never say this, because I’m worried you’d rip my face off and wear it as a hat, but you’re really cute,” Dib murmured between cheek kisses. “I wouldn’t kick your ass for that,” Zim said dismissively. “You always assume I want to be referred to in hard, masculine terms, but I’ve never said that.” Dib raised his eyebrows in surprise. “For real?” “Yeah,” Zim said as he snuggled against Dib’s chest. “I’d like it if you called me cute more often.” Dib smiled and hugged him close. “How about adorable?” “Mm-Hmm. That one, too.” “Sweet?” “Literally and figuratively, yes.” “My little bug?” Zim stopped with a Fun Dip stick halfway to his mouth. Those words made all eight ventricles of his heart suddenly flutter so badly, he was momentarily convinced he was experiencing a cardiac event. Dib laughed nervously, “Alright, not that one. Message received.” Zim hunched his shoulders reflexively. “Um. Actually … say that one again?” Dib looked down, trying and failing to read his expression. “What? My little bug?” he repeated cautiously. Zim closed his eyes, a stupid smile spreading across his face. The words were warm and soft, like a blanket fresh from the dryer on a chilly fall evening. “Oh, you actually like that one!” Dib remarked, more than a little surprised. “I thought the silence was because you were too nice to tell me it was stupid.” “I’m never too nice to call you stupid , Dib,” Zim pointed out with a sidelong glance and a barely concealed smirk. “But yes, when you say that, it gives me the warm-and-fuzzies.” “Sure that’s not because you’ve peed yourself again?” Dib said under his breath. Zim gave him a swift elbow to the ribs for his trouble. “Be nice to Zim!” he groused with a scowl as Dib coughed and grabbed his side. “I’ve had a rough day. Asshole.” “ Fuck , I think you broke something,” Dib wheezed as tears sprung to his eyes. “ Good . Think of that next time you decide that making me feel like filthy garbage over something I can’t help is a fantastic idea.” Zim crossed his arms and leaned his way out of Dib’s lap, flopping against the arm of the couch. Well. There he was. That was the Zim that Dib knew and (mostly) loved. Dib rubbed his ribs gingerly, a sinking feeling in his guts. “Hey, I’m sorry, alright?” he offered gently. “I didn’t mean to ruin a nice moment. I … guess I was just trying to be funny.” Zim covered his head with his arms. “It’s not funny, Dib,” he said, muffled. “It’s one of the least funny things to ever happen to me!” His shoulders shook for a moment as he sucked in a deep breath. “… especially because it is wet …” he added, so softly that Dib almost missed it. “Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Dib said frantically, standing up and giving Zim’s sleeve a little tug. “C’mere. Let’s go take care of it.” Zim looked up miserably, wiping the corner of his eye on his sleeve. “I can do it myself, Dib.” “I know you can, but I said I was going to take care of you, so come here and let me handle things.” Dib reached down and made a little “up!!” gesture with his fingers. Zim gave an aggravated little snort, but eventually stood up and allowed Dib to pick him up. He wrapped his legs and arms around Dib’s body, clinging like a toddler, face buried in Dib’s shoulder to hide how badly he was blushing. “You’ve got to tell me when you need it swapped out,” Dib admonished gently as they ascended the stairs. “I was comfy,” Zim mumbled. “If that’s seriously the lie you’re going with, I’m gonna start checking,” Dib said with a warning glance. “Do you want that?” “Of course not!!” Zim sputtered. “It’s embarrassing, okay?? I don't want to draw attention to it.” “You know what’s more embarrassing?” Dib asked as he set Zim down on the floor. “Leaking all over me and the couch. Now, do me a favor and hold your shirt out of the way.” Zim sighed and lifted up his shirt as Dib deftly pulled his pants down and ripped the sides on his pull-up to take it off. He set it on the ground and pulled out a pack of wipes from the bag on the bed, then set to work wiping Zim down. It wasn’t as if Dib wasn’t already intimately familiar with all of Zim’s bits. They had a very healthy love life, and one of Dib’s favorite things to do was put his face between Zim’s thighs and absolutely go to town eating him out until Zim’s legs shook and he couldn’t see straight. But there was something altogether different about having Dib clean him up with all the gentle care in the world, absolutely devoid of sexual subtext. Or at least, that’s how it looked . “I’m starting to think you like this more than you’ve let on,” Zim said suspiciously. It was a stab in the dark, but it was also the only thing that explained why Dib seemed so completely unbothered by the whole thing. Dib shrugged. “I guess? Taking care of you kinda hits a special part of my heart just right,” he said with a genuine smile. “I don’t like that you’re in this situation, but as long as you are, I’d love to get to pamper the absolute hell out of you.” “I said no diapers, Dib,” Zim insisted nervously. “I mean I want to dote on you, dummy,” Dib said as he rolled everything up and brought it to the bin on the other side of the room. “Although diapers would make this whole thing easier. You wouldn’t need to take everything off in order for me to change you.” Zim whined as he stepped out of his pajama bottoms. “Not yet,” he said, a pleading tone to his words. Dib came back with a fresh pull-up, sprinkled with what smelled like lavender baby powder. “Suit yourself,” he said, holding the disposable underwear out in front of Zim. “Step into this, and then we’re done.” Zim put a hand on Dib’s shoulder for balance and did as he was told. “So that’s really it?” he asked as he straightened the leg bands on his hips. “You just like coddling me? You don’t have a piss fetish or anything?” Dib didn’t immediately answer, and when Zim looked up, his face was an indescribable shade of red. “ Oh my Tallest ,” Zim said, face falling. “I trusted you!” Dib fiddled with his glasses. “I’m not getting off on this!!” he insisted. A little too intently, Zim thought. “It’s more like … it’s cute??” he attempted desperately. “It’s weirdly emotionally intimate and it just makes me want to cuddle you, okay??” “So none of it is sexual?” Zim asked dryly as he pulled up his pajama bottoms. Dib tilted his head back towards the ceiling and gave a frustrated moan. “Ohhhh my gawd, alright . Look. Let me put it this way,” he said, face still on the red side of pink. “If we were fucking and you … um … you know …” Zim raised his eyebrows. Having a laugh at Dib’s expense was simply too easy. “ No . I don’t know.” Dib ran his fingers through his hair once, and then a few extra times for good measure. “Okay. Okay okay okay . If you … if you were inside of me, and you pissed …” Dib tossed his hands up on either side of him in a greatly exaggerated shrug. “I wouldn’t hate it , alright??” Zim thought for a moment, foot tapping as he watched Dib squirm out of the corner of his eye. “But would you like it ?” he asked, trying not to grin when Dib’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Gah!!! Yes, Zim! Is that what you want to hear??” he yelled. “That I fucking fantasize about having the balls to ask you to piss inside me and then fuck me in it?? ” A smile tugged at the corner of Zim’s face. He’d never seen Dib snap like this before and it was highly amusing. “Holy shit …” he whispered to himself. Dib continued on with his rant, unaware. “Because I do , alright?? I think that would be hot as hell , especially if you told me what a disgusting, perverted freak I am while you do it!!” He stopped gesticulating wildly and dropped his arms, panting. His glasses had nearly slid off his face and his hair was wild. “Are you happy now??? ” Dib demanded as Zim desperately stifled a giggle with his sleeve. “You have no idea,” he replied with a grin. “I’m not taking advantage of this situation, I swear ,” Dib said, still visibly flustered as he fixed his glasses. “You’re cute and I want to take care of you. I just also haven’t stopped seeing you as my partner so, if you want to still have sex…” He trailed off with a hopeful look. “That option is still on the table.” Zim stepped forwards and hugged Dib around the waist. “Good. Because I haven’t stopped enjoying the thought of being inside you.” Dib ruffled his antennae. “Perpetually on the same page. That’s why I love you.” Zim stepped back and made an “up!!” motion with his arms, an expectant look on his face. Dib rolled his eyes, but ultimately reached down to pick him up. “Alright, alright. One more movie, because I can’t say no to that look. But then we’re going to bed for real. It really has been a long day.”
  15. Hi there, I have been lurking, like many others, before actually post something. It is so great and inspiring to read so many success stories of people going 24/7. Whilst I am not at this point (yet?) of choosing this path, the idea of doing it comes frequently. While reading so many stories here, I noticed, that the major changes happend around the 6 month mark (like in the 12 month program). However most of the people, that shared their story seemed to agree, that wetting (even tough consciously) became easier over the first three months. I was especially wondering about, how the first month was. Apart from mentally preparing for the journey, the new habits are not there yet. Means you clench, hold it, allow to pee and (probably) flood your diaper. If so, how did you handle that considering leaks, thickness of diaper, frequency of changes and when did you experience this state of 'it is getting easier to wet' I think at some point of wetting in smaller amounts and more frequent you are probably less likely to leak and do not need a super max capacity diaper and can switch to thinner less visible diapers. Same goes for messing in the first time. I need to wait very long to have this real strong urge to void. Did you wait until you literally couldnt hold it anymore or did you focus on voiding as soon the urge was noticable? Thank you so much again for sharing your experience so far, and thanks for reading
  16. Hi folks! I have posted my stuff on other sites, notably Reddit and Wattpad. Someone recently encouraged me to post here, and I thought I would give this community a try. I have a fair backlog of stories, but I won't be posting them all at once on here. That seems spammy and rude. Plus, I think it's fun to have regular content to look forward to. For the medium-term, I'll be posting one chapter of a story a week on here, starting with my short novel "Baby Briana". It has twenty six chapters, so we'll be a while on that one. I hope you enjoy! Please feel free to comment, ask questions, and otherwise talk to me in this thread. I don't know how often I will be checking my inbox here, as I already have a lot of inboxes, so my story threads are probably the best place to talk to me. Content Warnings: NSFW content including sex scenes. Spanking and discipline. Consent is not explicitly spelled out; a person acting as a child is considered to be giving implicit consent to be treated as one. Without further ado: Chapter 1 of Baby Briana. Brianna lifted her head and let out a yawn that stretched her jaw. Discomfort made her squirm in the bed. She slid a hand under the covers and immediately teared up. The bed was wet again. She froze in bed, listening and hoping that the house would be silent. No luck. By the sounds of it at least two of her roommates were already awake. The sun blazed through her white daisy curtains; a sign that it was likely they were all awake. For a few minutes she burrowed back into the covers despite the dampness. She wished she could vanish into the bed and disappear. Or better yet, that the stain would. “I don’t know why this is happening!” Briana despaired. “I haven’t wet the bed since I was six. It’s been ten times this month, and it’s happening more and more often.” With a groan she crawled out of bed and stripped off her soaked panties and nightshirt. She was able to scamper to the bathroom to shower without running into anyone. Scraggly red hair greeted her in the mirror. She sighed and tied it up. Haircuts were another thing that weren’t happening. At least the rest of her looked good. A smattering of freckles across a slim body. “Nothing like being poor to keep you trim.” Back in her room she dressed in dry clothes and faced her bed grimly. The comforter was too bulky to launder easily and seemed to be barely damp. She stripped the sheets and wrapped them in her wet bath towel. With the window open and a bit of febreeze on the mattress, she hoped no one would notice. Her feet creaked on the old wooden floors. Normally she loved an old house with tons of character. Now it was a traitor reporting her every move. Since quiet wasn’t an option, she made her way down the stairs quickly to the living room. Her roommate Suzie was there, curled up on the green antique couch. Brianna froze for a moment, but the blonde girl didn’t look up from her phone. Brianna rounded the wall that supported the stairs and opened the basement door. Another flight of creaky stairs and she was on nice quiet concrete. Even better, the washing machine was free. A huge wave of relief washed across Brianna when she set the washer running. Briana checked her bank balance for the hundredth time while she leaned on the kitchen counter. Only a couple hundred dollars left. Her roommates had been generous enough to let her skip the rent. They even let her eat from the groceries they bought. It was a lifesaver, but a guilt-inducing one. The college’s work study wasn’t taking any new student workers mid semester either. “There’s nothing online for jobs.” Briana sighed. “I’m sending out three applications a day but nobody replies.” “Hey, Bri?” Suzie startled Briana out of her thoughts. “Can you come to the living room? We wanted to talk to you about something.” “This is it. They’re kicking me out.” Briana’s mouth went dry, her stomach knotted. She managed a nod but couldn’t speak. Her fears redoubled when she saw her other four roommates sitting in the living room. Suzie led her to the armchair and took a seat on the right-hand couch next to Jane. As a film school student she was the most quirky of the group, short blue hair and a lot of tattoos. When she’d first moved in everyone called her Manic Pixie Dream Girl until it got to be too much. Anything but plain Jane was still in pajamas, her long black hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had striking German features with a resting bitch face that was legendary in the Economics department. Erin and Casey were on the left-hand couch, still dressed for their morning run. The only sporty members of the house, Erin was freckled and burnt, while Casey tended to evenly tan. They always seemed to sit together; Erin was the only one in the house who wouldn’t be dwarfed by Casey’s six and a half feet. Across the coffee table in the other armchair was Veronica, dressed in her usual black house dress. She had a quiet, commanding presence most of the time. At a meeting like this she had the look of royalty. Not condescending, just the assumption that she was in control. She didn’t even need to flex her wealth or Postdoc status to have authority in the house, but they certainly helped. Brianna sat at Veronica’s direction, eyes already brimming with tears. “I think you probably know why we wanted to talk.” Veronica said. “I’m sorry!” Briana burst into tears. “I can have my stuff packed up in a couple of days.” “What? Huh? No!” Several of the girls responded in unison. “Briana, no.” Veronica said with a concerned frown. “Nobody is kicking you out. I’m sorry you thought that’s what this was!” “What then?” Brianna sniffled. “You have been… having to do a lot of laundry lately.” Veronica said. Briana flushed. “That was really kindly worded. Carefully worded. I wonder if she learned that in the counseling program.” “We’re worried about you, and we want to help.” Veronica continued when Briana didn’t seem like she was going to reply. “Help how?” Briana sighed. “I don’t have insurance, or money for a doctor. I can’t ask you to cover me on that too!” “That’s not what we were offering.” Veronica said kindly. “We did get you a couple of things that might help though.” Erin hopped up and grabbed a package from behind the couch. A package of incontinence undergarments. Brianna’s heart sank and her face flamed again. “I uh, I don’t know why it’s happening but I’m not sure that I really need…” She stammered. “I know it’s rough even thinking about wearing those!” Erin said. “So I got you some different ones too.” She placed a second package on the coffee table. This one had bright colors, proudly proclaiming the efficacy of its pullups. “Uh, I’m pretty slim but I don’t think I can fit into pullups.” Brianna said, confused. “They’re adult sized!” Casey chimed in. “I know they look kind of kid-y.” Erin said. “But they’re way prettier than the Depends.” “I don’t think…” Brianna began. “Please think about it.” Veronica said. “Use them until you figure out what’s going on.” “Veronica’s the one covering my rent…” Briana hesitated, “Those things probably weren’t cheap either. This is actually really nice of them, even if it’s embarrassing.” “Um, okay. I’ll try them for at least a couple of days.” Briana said. She blushed and sank back in the chair as the other girls applauded. “We want you to be okay.” Jane said. “We’re here to help you, okay?” Suzie smiled at Briana. “It takes a lot of courage to accept help, especially about something like this.” Veronica said. Briana wiped away tears. Her roommates rose up en masse and helped her out of the chair. Surrounded in warm group hug, Brianna sobbed a couple of times and took a deep rattling breath. “Thanks everybody.” The hug closed tightly around her again. “You’ve all been really nice.” “We’re friends!” Suzie declared. “Just because we’re not a sorority doesn’t mean that I don’t think of you all as my sisters.” Veronica said. “We’ve had this house together for three years.” Brianna nodded, wiping her eyes. Jane helped her carry the supplies up to her room, giving her another hug before she left. Briana put the packages in the far back of her closet and realized there was a third one as well. A plastic mattress cover, that had been sitting under the depends. “I can’t afford to replace my mattress.” Briana thought grimly. She slipped the cover on her mattress and made the bed with new sheets. You couldn’t tell by looking at it, and when she crawled under the covers, the feel wasn’t too bad. “I sure have good friends. I wish I knew why this was happening!”
  17. Hello everyone, This is the first chapter of my latest story. This is currently being published chapter by chapter on my Patreon and will be available in its entirety later this year. You can find the latest chapters at patreon.com/alex_bridges. All characters are 18+ Chapter 1 It’s not like I did it on purpose. I’m not sorry, but it’s not like I did it on purpose. I babysit three times a week on average, more like five times in the summer. I want to pay for as much of college as I can in cash, and childcare pays better than retail or waiting tables. Especially now that schools keep opening and closing, parents are desperate for a night away. For me, an opportunity to make more money, which I need. I’m not going to risk my reputation as the best sitter in town just because of a little mix up. “Hi, Mrs. Rooney,” I said when she opened the door. “Hi, Sally. Come on in. Thanks for coming over on short notice.” I followed her into her kitchen; the Rooneys always have good stuff in the fridge. I didn’t get where I am as a sitter by abusing fridge privileges, but I don’t pass up the benefit either. She was dressed to the nines. I never asked, but it always seemed like she and Mr. Rooney must be going someplace expensive. Just based on their house alone, they must be one of the richer families I sit for. They’re not wealthy, but they got the upper-middle-class thing down pat. Literally the only people I know whose entryway it an actual room. “Always happy to when I can,” I replied, “I like Jamie and Jackie.” Well behaved kids, easy to get along with. “O, they’re both at friends’ houses tonight. It’ll just be you and Gordy tonight. Is that okay?” Like I couldn’t tell this ‘misunderstanding’ was totally on purpose. She had this guilty, pleading look on her face, but that was so beside the point. “Gordon? Really?” I knew Gordon. More specifically, I’ve known him since kindergarten, which would make fourteen years we’ve known each other. We graduated a little over year ago in the same class; we were even in the same twelfth grade homeroom, and now we’re both sophomores townies at the same college. I’ve sat for the Rooneys more than a few times, and Gordon was, obviously, never one of my charges. I just figured that was because he was the same age as me. Come to think of it, he was never even home when I sat for the kids because if he was, why would they need me to watch the kids? “I wouldn’t ask. Normally he spends the night at my sister’s or a friend’s house when you’re over, but he can’t tonight.” Like, but he’s … “But why does he need a sitter? He’s twenty. He’s, like, a month older than me, right?” And I’m also twenty. “Yes, but I don’t like leaving him alone if it can be helped.” “O … kay. So we’ll just watch a movie, I guess.” Get paid a hundred bucks to watch a movie with one of my peers? Weird, but fine by me. We’re not friends exactly, but we’re friendly. We were sorta friends when we were younger, but less so once we got to middle school. Gordon’s not exactly Mister Popular. Everyone’s nice to him, though, and he seems nice enough too. Just … different crowds. “Not exactly. I can explain fast, but we’re running late.” “That’s fine. I’ll stay.” “O, thank you. We just really need a night out, and since he got in trouble on campus today, he’s not allowed to go to his friend’s house and my sister already had plans and …” Didn’t really need her life story. “Whatever. It’s fine. Just tell me what’s up,” I said with a dab of false cheer to cover my WTF. She’s running late; I’m getting paid whether she tells me all this other stuff or not, so hey, let’s skip to the part I need to know, right? “Gordy,” Mrs. Rooney said, “come sit at the table with us. I want you to hear all of this so you can’t say you didn’t know later.” I followed her eyes, and color me surprised to see Gordon – Gordy at home, apparently; he always hated being called that in school – standing in the corner in his pajamas at six o’clock. I know the difference between lazy around-the-house-clothes and jammies, and those were definitely jammies. He shuffled over blushing all the way to his ears as he kept his eyes pointed at the floor. We all took a seat at the table. I couldn’t tell if he as about to cry, tantrum, or both, and I wouldn’t blame him if he did. If I were him, I’d probably have broken something and peeled out of the driveway while flipping the bird. I mean, we’re not kids. We’re not even teenagers. We’re way too old for a babysitter by about eight years. “First off,” Mrs. Rooney said, “do you know about Gordy’s issue?” “His diapers? Yeah.” Like he could keep that a secret for since literally the entire time I’d known him. No one made fun of him for it, not in a long time. Kindergarten and maybe first grade a little, but even in kindergarten it quickly became normal: our class had a kid in diapers. An adult in diapers now. And he’s not on the spectrum or delayed or anything. I don’t know what the issue is cuz it’s none of my business, but he’s always been in diapers, at least so far as I know. You’d have to be dense to have not figured it out within the first week of kindergarten. And if even if you were dense, when we got to middle school and had to change for gym, I think they let him change in a private stall or something, but you could totally hear him crinkling through those shorts. And no one teased him. Gordon wears diapers, always has; he went to the nurse a couple times a day, and we all knew why. If anything, people in school were kind of protective of him even though he didn’t need it. I even heard a rumor that when a new kid asked about it in tenth grade, the biggest bully in our class hauled off and punched him just to make it perfectly clear no one bullies Gordon. “You’ll need to check and change him tonight.” Just when I thought Gordon – well, when in Rome – Gordy couldn’t bow his head any lower. “Uh, he doesn’t do that himself? Or can’t he?” You don’t get to be the most sought-after babysitter in town by being squeamish about changing diapers, but one fact I do know: toddlers make bigger messes than newborns, and twenty-year-old Gordy has about a hundred and five pounds on the average two-year-old. Though come to think of it, I didn’t know if Gordy needed diapers for that or just for wetting accidents. In the brief second I had to consider that, it occurred to me even a toddler who still has wetting accidents is usually in a pull-up, not a full blown diaper. Our school’s gym shorts covered everything, but there was no mistaking Gordy’s underpants for a pull-up. He wears diapers. “Gordy got a diaper rash last week. If he wants the privilege of changing his own diapers, he needs to be responsible about it, which means no rashes. I’m sorry to even ask you to change him, but I like to be very consistent with the rules, and the rule is if he gets a diaper rash, no changing his own diapers for a month.” Not surprised exactly. She’s one of the stricter parents I sat for. So yeah, she’s his stepmom, but she’s not really an evil stepmom. She’s just a stickler for rules. I was afraid to ask this and very sorry to have to ask it in front of Gordy, poor little guy, but I had to. “Um, does he … both ways?” I guess I could’ve asked him, but he seemed like he’d rather have a hole swallow him than answer any questions. “He doesn’t usually have a dirty diaper in the evening.” “Still …” “Two hundred for the night,” Mrs. Rooney said before I could finish the sentence we both knew I was in the middle of saying. “Two-fifty.” Hey, I’m not one to miss an opportunity. Do you know what books cost for just one semester? “Done.” “Sorry,” I said under my breath to Gordy. I felt bad enough for him that she was making him have a sitter, but how much worse for him to hear what it costs to get someone to look after him, which he doesn’t want anyway, and pretty obvious why anyone would want extra to sit for him. So yes, I felt bad for him, but it’s just … the ‘usually’ in ‘doesn’t usually have a dirty diaper in the evening’ sorta stands out like sore thumb in that sentence, right? It would if you were me, and I am me. “And another thing,” Mrs. Rooney said. “Mommmm,” he whined. A little spark of rebellion flashed in his eyes. I didn’t know about what, but that’s what you expect from someone his age. I guess I understand if life’s circumstances made him a little more likely to give in than lash out even when any of the boys we graduated with most of the girls would’ve told their stepmom where to go by now. “Gordon, last warning.” I looked from her to him, and that little spark turned into a little water, and he looked back down at the table. “As I was saying, Gordon got in trouble on campus today and is grounded, so he’s not spending the night at a friend’s like he normally does. Why don’t you tell the story, Gordy, since you think you’re old enough to say anything you want?” Did I say ‘stepmom’, cuz I meant ‘bitch.’ And Mrs. Rooney is not normally a bitch, so that got me more than a little curious what exactly he’d done to piss her off so mightily. On top of which, it’s not exactly easy to get in trouble on campus. I mean, we’re adults. You can do some seriously stupid stuff on campus without getting in trouble. He sighed and answered, “I called called someone … a name.” “The ‘C’ word,” his stepmom clarified. Or should I say his very reasonable, no more pissed off than she had a right to be (but could still be a whole lot more chill and even more thoughtful) stepmom clarified. “Gordy actually called a woman the ‘C’ word.” “But she …” Gordy tried to defend his actions. “I know what she said, and you had every right to be angry with her, but that is not how you talk to or about women. You know that, and losing your temper is not an excuse for using a slur.” She turned back to me. “I already washed his mouth out, but that language also earned him a bedtime spanking.” “A sp … O … kay.” Of all the ways my day could’ve gone, didn’t see this one coming. Like, at all. I personally never got why some parents get so bent out of shape about bad words (how bad can they be when you can turn on network TV and hear most of them?), and I didn’t really get why she cared given that – did I mention it six times already? – Gordy is twenty years old. On the other hand … now I understood why Mrs. Rooney was taking it so seriously. It’s not that big a deal if you think of the ‘C’ word as a swear, but if you think of it as a slur, yeah, much bigger deal. I guess it depends on how you use it, cuz I could see how it could be a slur, but I’ve always thought of it more as a swear. Not that my opinion meant anything in the circumstances. I’m the babysitter – I literally just work here. “I’m too old,” Gordy interjected probably (more like definitely) more loudly than someone in his position should’ve. I mean, I agree with him, but he still should’ve just kept quiet. There’s standing up for yourself, and then there’s digging the hole deeper. If she had already washed his mouth out (ick!), not let him go out with friends, and hired a sitter for him, I couldn’t imagine any argument, not matter how obviously valid, changing her mind. Mrs. Rooney is a fit woman; I’ve seen her play a heckuva game of tennis at the club, so not a surprise she could be on her feet and have her stepson by the ear so damn fast. Gordy’s not the first kid I’ve gone to babysit and found standing in a timeout; or the first kid I’ve gone to sit and seen spank-marched to the nearest corner for corner time; or even the first kid I’ve sat for who earned a spanking on my watch. But he was the first kid I’ve sat for who wasn’t, ya know, an actual kid. He may have crinkled all the way to the corner; he may have eeped a little when she tugged his ear; he may have tried to get out of the way of her hand as she delivered those underhand spanks; and he may even be kinda cute in a boyish kind of way, but definitely an adult. One whose birthday actually comes before mine. Diapered or not, adult. “Not another word,” Mrs. Rooney warned him, “or I’ll take your pants down right here. You just stand there and listen.” And damn did she mean it, even in evening wear. That tone? Enough to make me almost jump out of my chair to find my own corner and listen. “Are we ready, honey,” Mr. Rooney asked as he appeared from somewhere. Not that I wanna be that babysitter, but Mr. Rooney can take me anywhere so long as he’s wearing his tux. Shawl collar? Makes him seem even taller. No mistaking him for your waiter. And who even goes places that are black tie? “Just a minute,” Mrs. Rooney replied and picked up the pace; they probably had a reservation at one of those places you have to reserve six months ahead of time. Anyway, she continued quickly with, “He takes a bath on Fridays, not a shower. When he gets out of the bath, please give him his spanking. His diaper comes down, and he goes over your knee. He knows where to the hairbrush is. Then it’s straight to bed. Lights out at 9:30. That means no dawdling in the tub, Gordy. Out at 9:15. Understood?” He either understood or he didn’t want to risk saying anything he had every right to say but shouldn’t unless he wanted two spankings in one day. “Any questions,” she asked me. “So … on his … bare?” “Have you ever given a spanking before?” “Yeah … Well, a swat on their reset button,” I said, oddly embarrassed. I mean, most parents don’t even spank anymore, let alone allow – let alone ask! – a sitter to do it. I’ve tapped a tantruming toddler on the bottom before, but that’s not even a spanking. “Are you okay doing it? I wouldn’t ask, but the rule is a bedtime spanking. It’s best for them to get their consequence as soon as possible, and Gordy really needs the structure.” I guess that was all Gordy could take. “But she can’t! She’s the same age as me!” There was silence as Mrs. Rooney turned and looked at him like he was out of his mind. I thought he was in his exact right mind, but if I had to live with her, always strict like she is and and just then downright exuding this weird kind of determined, calm-but-pissed-off vibe she was giving off, I think I’d have kept my mouth shut. I think he realized that too cuz he didn’t say anything else or turn around. So that was two outbursts (justified if unwise) since I’d gotten there plus calling someone the ‘C’ word all in one day. Talk about your verbal incontinence. I don’t feel very strongly about spanking one way or the other. It didn’t do me any harm – though the last one I got was in third or fourth grade, and it was pretty rare before then too – but I’m not one of those crazy people who thinks you can’t possibly raise godly tomatoes (or whatever asinine phrase the bible bunch uses) without it. Still, I was the babysitter. It’s kind of my critical to my job to not let “you’re just the babysitter so you can’t XYZ” slide. On the one hand, pick your battles. On yet another hand, some battles you gotta fight. So I got up and connected that hand hard with Gordy’s butt. “I’m the babysitter. I’m in charge. And if your stepmom says you’re getting a spanking, you’re getting a spanking.” Two bonuses to stepping up like I did. First, and this wasn’t the main thing but was intentional, Mrs. Rooney smiled thinly and stood up, not to follow up on her threat to spank Gordy but to leave. Good riddance. Who needs those vibes around? Second, unintentional bonus: holy crap did I feel more powerful than I ever have in my life. And turned on. My promise ring didn’t make the journey from youth group to my mom’s car, but never I felt the way I did right then without a D or a D-cell battery before. Downside? Gordy finally lost it and started sniffling. I know the two spanks I landed didn’t actually hurt through his diaper, but I’m sure he was feeling about two inches tall having his college classmate spank him on his diaper while telling him she could and would give him a real spanking later that same night. I hated that I made him feel that way, even if I was just his stepmom’s instrument in this case. But also, and I feel guilty for saying this, it kinda added to the whole arousal hearing him sniffle. So … there’s a thing I learned about myself that night. Mrs. Rooney said to me, “I think you’ll do fine, but if you have any questions, Gordy will answer them. Not his first trip over a knee.” “Another fifty.” Did I say that? Good for me! “That’s fair. Edward,” she called out to wherever Mr. Rooney had gone, “ready when you are.” To me she said, “Thank you again and sorry for all the fuss. I didn’t want to call just anyone over. I trust you. He may not want you here, but I told him you’d keep everything between us, won’t you?” “Of course.” Also, ‘may not?’ Try resented the hell out of it, understandably so. And I resented the hell out of her asking me to sit and springing this on me. “We’ll be home very late.” “I know. I’ll probably be asleep on the couch when you get home.” I stood against the doorframe and watched Mr. Rooney count out three hundred dollars and put it next to the pizza money. I told them to have fun. She called me a godsend and barely avoided the door hitting her on the butt on the way out. To my right, Gordy in the corner, no longer sniffling but still staring at the wall on his naughty spot. To my left, three hundred dollars on the counter just for spanking and diapering a grown man. If I’d only known about this cottage industry sooner! Heck, I’d have paid off my car by now. Go to patreon.com/alex_bridges to continue reading
  18. This story is now finished, so congratulations, new readers, you'll be able to finish without needing to wait for any further updates from me. There are, however, some things you should be aware before you begin. For first time readers, you should know that this story is a part of another one that I'm currently writing, All My Mother's Rules, covering the backstory of Lisa. The stories can be read in either order. You can start with this one first, or, if you choose to start with All My Mother's Rules, you'll be re-directed back to this story when necessary. A note from me to avoid some confusion. Lisa changes her name from Annabelle to Lisa at the conclusion of this story. (I've removed that name twist and kept her name as Lisa throughout when I've updated and posted the story elsewhere. I'm leaving that element here with this note so there isn't any confusion about her character). Synopsis: Annabelle, a teenage girl with a troubled past and trouble with keeping her pants dry, must confront what has been done to her if she is to begin a new life, one that she hopes will allow her to eventually be free from diapers. Content warning: This is a messed-up story. If profanity, violence, and references to suicide are off-putting, you probably shouldn’t read it. ----- Chapter 1: Therapy Session Present time My legs wobbled slightly as I followed the therapist down the hospital hallway and into her office. Even though a month had passed after the incident, standing for any length of time quickly tired me out, and walking was so much worse. To be fair, I had been offered a wheelchair, but I had turned it down. It wasn't as if I was too embarrassed or prideful to use the wheelchair, but the thought of being constrained... well, that just wasn't going to happen. Not now. Not again. Not ever. My therapist, Miss Amanda, said the room was private. I wasn't inclined to believe her. There was one of those one-way windows installed on the wall. She said it was only used for other clients, like if there was a parent or guardian that needed to be involved. I don't have any of those, well, at least not anymore. Though tiny, the room wasn't so small that it felt constraining. The room was muted, with only few splashes of color. A light-brown leather couch with a couple of bright, plush pillows sat along the wall opposite the fake window. The far wall had a large, flatscreen TV inside of a wood cabinet. "Annabelle, you can take a seat over there," Amanda said, motioning to the couch with her hand. The therapist took a seat herself in a swivel chair that was next to the far end of the couch. The binder Amanda was carrying remained closed. I wondered what it said about me in it. To be more accurate, I worried about what it said about me. In the first few days after the incident, I had talked a lot. Maybe I'd said more than I should have. Probably. But I had thought for once that I would have been believed. I'm still not sure if they do, or, if this therapy session is some sort of test or trick to discover what actually took place. I'm sure the transcripts of those initial interviews are in her binder. There's no way they would have let Amanda begin her first day as my therapist without providing her with that information. I tried to remember everything I had told them. It's not as if I hadn't been truthful, but I wasn't certain yet that I wanted to reveal any more than I already had. I fidgeted on the couch, but that was more due to my nerves being uncomfortable, not my bottom. It would, however, be inaccurate to describe the couch itself as comfortable, even if I didn't happen to be uncomfortable sitting on it. There are few benefits to being incontinent but having what is essentially a portable pillow for your butt is one of them. So, while the cushioning in the couch may have been lacking, the padding in the diaper I had taped on beneath my dress more than made up for it. Amanda opened the binder and began to peruse it silently without saying anything. I didn't get it. Was this some kind of trick into getting me to talk? All I knew about therapists was from what I'd seen on TV, which is to say, I didn't know much. Well fine. Staying silent was my modus operandi so why should I give a shit? A few minutes passed before Amanda looked up from the binder to talk to me. "Do you understand why we are having this conversation?" Amanda asked. Because some judge is worried that I might be a danger to society. That isn't what I said to Amanda though. I just shrugged nonchalantly. "Let's start by talking about how you're feeling right now." Talk about my feelings? Since when has anyone given two fucks, let alone a single one, about my feelings? "I... um... I... I don't know." Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Everything made sense in my head. The thoughts and words flowed seamlessly together. I knew exactly how I felt right now. Despite my ongoing efforts to repress those thoughts, Amanda's innocuous question had brought them forward again. I'm lonely after being in the hospital for a month with basically no visitors besides the doctors and nurses who have been caring for me. I'm embarrassed because even though I'm fourteen, I've never been able to move on from needing to wear diapers. And I'm confused, because a month ago I wanted to end my life, and now I want to live, but I have no clue as to what the future could possibly look like for me. But it all became a jumbled mess the moment I began to speak. I closed my mouth, shut my eyes, and curled up in a ball on my couch. Maybe going to juvie instead of this wouldn't be so bad after all. With my eyes closed and my mind all wrapped up in my own thoughts, I didn't notice that Amanda had taken a seat on the couch until she was sitting next to me with her arm tight around my shoulder. "You know what, why don't we do something different. It's only the first session after all." I opened my eyes and nodded, though I didn't turn to look at her. "Do you like to play videogames?" "I don't know." "Annabelle, you need to help me out a little. I'm sure you know if you like video games or not. And if you don't, that's OK. We can find something else to do." How I am supposed to explain to her that I had never been allowed to play videogames? Well, besides that one time. I felt really embarrassed. "But I don't know if I like them." "Why not?" "I.. I wasn't allowed to..." My voice trailed off into a stutter, and I felt Amanda's hand rubbing my shoulder. "Why weren't you allowed to play videogames?" The laughter started with a brief giggle, but I couldn't get it under control. In a few seconds I was laughing so hard that I was crying. This situation wasn't supposed to be funny, but the absurdity and irony of it was more than I could deal with. I gave a better explanation to Amanda a minute later when I finally managed to compose myself. "She said video games caused kids to be violent. You know, Columbine and all that stuff." "I don't think there is much truth to that," Amanda said. "Humans started being violent long before video games were invented. I'll get the Wii set up and we can play for a bit, OK?" Curious, I peaked over Amanda's shoulder as she knelt next to the TV cabinet and got the gaming system plugged in. My excitement to give it a try overpowered my cynicism that this was just a ploy Amanda was using to get on my good side. I mean, I knew that the cynic in me was right, but I wasn't going to pass up this opportunity. Amanda handed me the two remotes – Wiimotes, she called them. It was such as stupid pun that it made me giggle again. She started a bowling game on the Wii. Just another thing I'd never done before. After a few gutter balls to start, and one time where I threw the bowling ball backwards and scared all the Miis into jumping, I began to get the hang of it and even managed to pull off a couple of strikes. But the fun was over as quickly as it began. Amanda turned off the TV and placed the controls back in the cabinet. I knew she would be expecting me to be more talkative this time around, but I still wasn't ready for that. "Can I slip out to the restroom?" Amanda gave me a look. I guess her binder did have all my medical information in it as well. I shuffled my feet. Couldn't she just let me get away with saying I needed to go to the restroom? Why did I need to specify that I needed to do it to change my diaper? "To change myself," I added. "Can you wait until we're done?" Amanda asked, clearly feeling like she didn't want to interrupt the momentum she had gained from our gaming session. Why does everyone always assume that having a diaper on means that I can wait forever to go to the bathroom? Like, do they not get that it can be uncomfortable sitting in a wet or messy diaper, or that it will leak or smell if I wait too long? "Well, it might leak." That threat of having to deal with urine all over her couch was more than enough to get Amanda to give me permission to go to the restroom. I grabbed my backpack and slipped out into the hallow to a restroom that was a few doors down. It was a one-person family restroom, always nice for times when I need to change a diaper. I took a seat on the toilet without bothering to raise the lid. I slid my shorts down to my ankles and pulled my ankle-length dress up to my waist. The wetness indicator on the diaper had barely changed. I still hadn't gotten quite used to the new brand of diapers I switched to when I arrived at the hospital. They were more absorbent than I was accustomed to, so sometimes it was hard for me to determine if I needed to change myself without actually taking a look at the diaper. I decided that I didn't need to change myself quite yet. The diaper was slightly wet, but it will more than make it through the rest of the therapy session without any leaks. But the trip to the restroom served a second purpose. It gave me a mental break that I desperately needed. I figured I could at least take my time. It's not like Amanda knows how long it takes to change a diaper. This past month hadn't gone like I had imaged it would. Sure, I had escaped from her, but in my imagination, that had always been the moment where everything in the universe finally fell back in order for me. While I couldn't deny that my life had improved slightly, this still wasn't the life that I dreamed of. I paced back and forth across the restroom. It only took me four steps to go from one wall to the other. I already knew the question Amanda was going to ask when I returned. It wasn't so much that the truth was a problematic answer, but that there was so much to say that I didn't know where to begin. Amanda was seated in the swivel chair and reading through the binder when I returned to the therapy room. Without saying anything, I took a seat on the far end of the couch from her. "Annabelle, are you ready to begin?" No. I'm not at all ready. But does that matter? Not one bit. I stared at my hands as I picked at one of my fingernails. "Annabelle," she said again, sounding a bit impatient. I kept on ignoring her. "Annabelle, look at me. You need to be treating this seriously. You did tell the judge that you agreed to do this." I didn't agree to do shit. When presented with a choice between going through therapy or being sent to juvenile detention, was there really, actually, a choice to be made? "Would you rather just get right to the point?" Amanda asked, gently, but firmly. I relented and nodded silently, waiting for Amanda to continue. "Let's talk about why you tried to kill your mother."
  19. Hi all. I've been wondering something. For those of you who started out continent, but have achieved incontinence through untraining, how long did it take you to achieve involuntary loss or urine or poo after you started untraining? Please vote in the poll. My vote goes to `While not technically incontinent or diaper dependent, I do experience "post void dribble"`. Thank you for your responses!
  20. https://www.theguardian.com/business/2022/jul/13/covid-used-as-an-excuse-to-decimate-workers-terms-say-rail-unions Union bosses have accused the government and rail firms of exploiting the pandemic to force through changes to conditions, with one claiming that drivers were so short of breaks they had to rely on incontinence products.
  21. MY DADDY THE DIPLOMAT By LtlGary “But Dad, I don’t need any help. I can change myself.” I whined. “I know you can, Dustin. But where we’re going you won’t be allowed to. Besides, we’re both guys. And we got the same equipment. Or did you forget I used to change your diapers when you were a baby?” I grumbled under my breath as Dad laid the changing pad on the hotel room bed. He neatly lined up the bottles of baby powder and rash cream. Next came the diapers. I had wanted just the plain white disposables, but Dad had insisted on getting a variety. “Dinos, Race Cars, or Super Heroes?” He asked me. “I don’t care. You can pick.” I murmured. He picked up a race car diaper and ushered me over to the bed. I raised my arms, like a boy much younger than me would. My shirt was soon pulled off my skinny ten year old body. My pants were next, falling to the ground. I simply stared at my Dad in just my boxer briefs. He saw I was getting emotional and snatched me off the ground in a big bear hug. “It’s ok. I know moving isn’t easy. But this new diplomatic post is a dream come true. It will be a fresh start. For the both of us.” “I know, but I can’t help feeling that we’re leaving Mom behind.” Losing my mother to cancer had been hard on the both of us. Dad had used up all his medical leave to be with her. He had gone into deep debt with all kinds of experimental treatments. Eventually he had to sell the house. My grades also began to suffer as I didn’t see the point of keeping up with my schoolwork. Mom had always helped me with my homework, and she always made it practical as well as fun. We were lucky enough to have church friends who helped take care of us after the funeral. Who bought me diapers when my bedwetting had reared its ugly head. To have a shoulder to cry on. Who even babysat me when Dad had to work long hours to pay off the debt. Three months later Dad was called into the office. He had been appointed to be a junior diplomat for the island nation of Panjeah. The next few days we packed all our things and hopped on the next flight over. The trip would take two days, and currently we were in a hotel. In a city called San Romero I think? I can’t remember. Dad gently lowered my boxer briefs to the floor where they joined my jeans. “You know why I’m doing this?” I wiped my eyes. “Panjeah keeps all children under 18 in diapers. Not to mention I have to wear a uniform to school. Don’t they treat all their kids like infants and toddlers?” “Not all of them. It depends on their behavior. You won’t have to deal with corporal punishment, which is a crying shame…” “Dad!” “Only joking. Most kids can wear regular clothes just like you. Only the naughty ones will be pushed around in strollers or be in harnesses.” “You’re not planning on doing anything like that with me?” “Relax. As long as you make good grades and get along with everyone, then you will have nothing to worry about. The only change will be wearing diapers 24/7 instead of just at nighttime.” Dad laid me down onto the bed. He made sure to cover my ‘package’ and my rear with lots of rash cream. “Not so much powder, I don’t want people to know.” He fixed me with a stare. “Sorry.” I nervously brushed my bright red hair out of my eyes as Dad finished taping up my sides. “There, all finished!” “Thanks, Dad.” “You’re welcome, Dustin.” He set me on my own bed next to his. “Dad?” “Yes?” “I love you.” “I know.” I curled up with my blankie and closed my eyes. I felt the sheets being tucked around my small frame and a kiss on my forehead. *** The next morning my diaper was drenched. I didn’t dream about Mom like I did most nights, strangely enough. It was the first restful night I’d had in months. Dad let me have the shower first, which I greatly appreciated. He probably wanted to dispose of my diaper and not leave it for the maids. I let the water pour down my frame, imagining all my worries going down the drain. Dad helped me towel off, paying extra attention to my mid-section. He offered me the same choice as last night and I chose super heroes. Moments later I was sporting a thick diaper with a Marvel super hero on the front. “I laid out new jeans for you, since your old ones won’t fit in your current state.” I took my time getting dressed while Dad was in the shower. The jeans were loose enough to hide my diaper but tight enough to stay on my waist. I silently prayed that no one would notice. We packed our things and were out of the hotel room by 10. We stopped for breakfast on the way to the airport, which was across the street. We took our time since we had our own private plane to take us to Panjeah. One of the perks of Dad working for the government. I tried not to eat too much because flying didn’t agree with me. It was never take off, or when we were at cruising altitude. It was whenever there was turbulence or landing. I hated carrying my used motion sickness bags but Dad didn’t want anyone else dealing with that. He had spent years in the service industry before landing his government job, so he didn’t want to inconvenience anyone else with my problems. After we ate we walked over and checked in with security. Dad had both our tickets and passports. There wasn’t much of a line, nor many families. Most of Dad’s coworkers were single or didn’t have kids. Dad always commented on how much fun they were missing out on. I stayed close as we boarded. Once I put my bag under my seat, I pulled out my large puzzle book to help me keep my mind away from my surroundings. I was busy with a complicated word search when the plane rushed down the runway. We took to the cloudless skies. “How long is the flight?” I looked up after I finished my search. “Little over four hours.” Dad was listening to a news podcast. I pulled out my blankie from my bag and curled up in my seat. Dad draped an arm over my shoulder as I closed my eyes. I imagined myself on the start of an epic journey, a quest to find ancient treasure. Bullies from my previous school morphed into monsters for me to slay. My old school became a treacherous swamp. As a knight of the realm, I travelled far and wide in long expansive battles. Sadly, my adventure faded from my mind as I fell into a dreamless sleep. Dad shook me awake a few hours later. “We’re here.” I looked out the window to find the plane rolling up to the small terminal. “Are you sure you didn’t drug my orange juice this morning?” “I swear. I’m as surprised as you are.” “First time I slept through a landing.” I gathered my things. I glanced out the window as I put my blankie back in my backpack. “Why isn’t there a gate?” “Panjeah only has a small airport. There’s only a handful of flights in or out.” We exited the plane and walked down the offered stairs. The smell of the ocean assaulted my nostrils. Followed by the crashing waves. Palm trees waved in the breeze. I held my hand in front of my eyes to shield them from the afternoon glare. A small entourage awaited us in the small terminal. Most of the adults were dressed just like Dad in business casual clothing. I noticed a few children following their parents. Each had a tell-tale waddle as well as a bulge around their waist. Even the teenagers weren’t exempt. Dad walked up to a large brown skinned muscular man. “Katoa! Good to finally meet you in person!” “Likewise, Derrick! And who do we have here?” I hid behind my Dad as my nerves got the better of me. “This is my son, Dustin. Don’t mind him, he’s shy around new people.” Katoa knelt in front of me so we saw eye to eye. “Pleased to meet you, little man.” “Hi.” I didn’t feel like talking. We walked out to the tiny parking lot where a small car was waiting for the three of us. Dad and I didn’t check any luggage since most of our things would arrive by ship in a couple of days. Dad and Katoa chatted about important details: getting his office up and running, vehicle options, and getting groceries. I perked up when they talked about my schooling. “So I’ll be attending the local school here?” I inquired. “Indeed, little man. I’m sure you’ll be quite the catch.” Katoa replied. He wasn’t kidding. Most Panjeese had tanned leathery skin, long black hair, and even blacker eyes. I doubt they’d seen a kid with fire engine hair and eyes the color of the ocean. “We’ll need to get you fitted for your school uniform tomorrow.” Dad informed me. “Has school started yet?” “Next week. Maybe you’ll have a chance to run into my kids.” Katoa grinned at me. We arrived at the small flat. It was a single story abode that rested over a bluff overlooking the ocean. Volcanic rock bricks covered the outside. Dad admired the spacious living room and kitchen. My room was twice the size of my old one. There was only one bathroom, but I had a little side room that was fully stocked with a large changing table, cream, powder, and plenty of diapers. But the best part? I had my own sink and shower! I have craved it since Dad and I had to share in our small condo. Maybe not having access to a toilet wasn’t so bad at all. A question popped into my head as I waved good bye to Katoa and the driver. “Dad? Who’s gonna be here when I get off from school?” “There’ll be plenty of activities to keep you busy once school is out. Didn’t you say you wanted to try out for the soccer team?” “Can I?” I begged. “Of course!” He laughed. “That and study hall should keep you busy until I’m finished with work.” “I’d love it if you could pick me up.” “No promises.” “Oh, and Dad?” “Yes?” “Could I get a change?” “Sure thing.” He ruffled my hair. *** That night we slept on just the mattresses. I don’t know how Dad could afford them. Not that he’d tell me if I asked him. I was just glad that Dad and I could use this to start over. We both needed a fresh start after the large trial we endured. I was so comfy that I had trouble getting up, though I think the time change had something to do with it. Dad had to pry me out of bed and carry me to my changing table. Soon I was in a fresh Dino diaper and being carried into the kitchen. “Do you want to sit in the high chair? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” I didn’t see it the first tour of the condo. But there it was, up against the table in the center of the kitchen. I was still struggling to wake up so I simply shrugged. Dad plopped me in and set the tray in front. Soon I was watching him cook. Something he hasn’t done in quite a while. Dad loved cooking and was quite good at it. I loved to help him mix ingredients while he would man the stove. Or when he’d pick me up so I could reach the stove timer in order to set it. Mom would always be his go to assistant, and both of them would juggle meats, vegetables and make all kinds of dishes. When Mom got sick he started cooking less and less. Soon I was having microwaved meals more often than not. When she left us, I feared he would never cook because the memories we made would be too painful. I brushed my memories aside as Dad plopped a plate full of French toast in front of me. Along with an egg on the side. Neither of us said much, letting the amazing food do the talking. I made sure to lick the plate clean of maple syrup. “All done!” I announced. Dad unbuckled me from my high chair and I weaseled my way to the floor. “Hurry and get dressed, we have a busy day today.” I put on yesterday’s jeans and my favorite rock band t-shirt. Soon there was a honk in the driveway. I made my way out to the living room to find Dad and Katoa chatting. We piled into the car and drove into the nearby village. Dad told me that Katoa was simply dropping off the car, and it was ours to drive. “Do you work with my Dad?” I asked him. “Of course. I translate for him.” “Don’t most Panjeese speak English?” “Most of the kids do. As well as those in the big cities. Not so much out in the countryside.” We pulled up in front of an old stone building. Numerous paintings greeted us as we walked in. Mannequins were everywhere, dressed in fancy attire. Racks of dress clothing lined the walls. A tall skinny man in slacks and a vest came from the back room. “Welcome, welcome! I see you are here to get the little one fitted?” “Yup.” “Well then, come over here.” The tailor beckoned me to a small stool. “Now, please strip down to your diaper so I can get your measurements.” My face turned white. “Uh, Dad?” “Relax, Dustin. I’m sure he’s seen dozens of boys in just their diapers.” He reassured me. “Do you have soccer gear as well?” “I do indeed. Does your son intend to try out for the school team?” “You bet I do!” I answered enthusiastically before Dad could say anything. I had desperately wanted to try out for sports, but Mom’s sickness never gave me the chance. “Good! My son had mentioned rumors that there might not be a team this year because there wasn’t enough support. What position did you want to play?” “Goalie.” “Maybe if you’re a good boy for your father and me, I’ll let you try on the gear? Even though I’m supposed to wait for tryouts.” The tailor winked at Dad. In a flash I had stripped off my t-shirt and jeans and was standing on the stool with my hands behind my back. The tailor chuckled as he brought out the measuring tape. He wrapped it around my waist, then had me stretch it along my arms. Humming to himself, the tailor walked back to the racks and returned with a polo shirt onesie with the school emblem on the right breast. “Hold up your arms.” I obediently raised them, having been familiar with this routine. The tailor expertly pulled the onesie over my head and onto my body. He knelt as he did the snaps around my crotch. Next came the elastic short shorts. Oh Lord they were short! Most of my thighs were showing! I would have wagered that they were the same length of my old boxer briefs. Lastly were the knee high socks and shoes. “You look great.” Dad gave me a thumbs up. He glanced at the tailor. “We’ll take four sets.” The tailor nodded as he disrobed me. He piled the clothes onto the seat next to Dad. Mumbling to himself, he meandered to the back of his shop and returned with several soccer jerseys, shoes, shin guards, and gloves. “Where are the shorts?” I asked. The tailor exchanged a large grin with Katoa. “You don’t play with any on. It’s tradition.” Katoa tried not to laugh. “You’ll be issued a plastic diaper cover by your team which will have your number on your rear end.” I was speechless. I knew this country was different, but I wasn’t expecting this! “He’s only joking. Give me a moment.” The tailor went back and rummaged around until he found a pair of elastic short shorts in the school’s colors. They were the exact same length and material of my school shorts. The tailor helped me strap on my gear. Katoa pulled a soccer ball from the trunk of the car. We went outside for a little practice at the park across the street. “I’ll also take what he’s wearing as well.” Dad handed the tailor a wad of cash. “Keep the change.” “You are most gracious, sir. You and your son are welcome here anytime.” Dad took his time loading my school clothes into the back of the car, as he wanted to watch me and Katoa play. Several children had noticed our playing and soon the ball was being kicked around by a group of kids. To Be Continued
  22. “But I’m supposed to be big today” I fumed, as Daddy barred my way, diaper in hand. “I know,” his voice was calm and measured, but there was a slightly stern tone to his words, “but it’s going to be a long day, with lots of distractions.” He had a point. Most of my accidents happened when my attention was on something fun or exciting. “And the escape room booking is for two hours. You definitely aren’t going to be able to hold on for that long.” I sighed, I’d been looking forward to today, and didn’t want to spoil it with an accident, but I really didn’t want to wear a diaper, particularly something so thick and babyish. They always made me feel spacey and little, and I wanted to be on my best form with a clear head. “If you don’t make a fuss, I’ll let you have any treats you want while we’re out”. I smiled, it was a small victory, but I’d take it, “OK Daddy”, I said, waddling towards my bed, my very soggy overnight diaper making walking kind of difficult. “Just a second” Daddy said, stopping me in my tracks, “Do you need you go potty before I change you?” I blushed, of course I did. If I hadn’t been so flustered I would have said something to show him how big I could be. I nodded meekly, then began to head towards the bathroom. “Where do you think you’re going?” Daddy asked, gently taking hold of my arm. “The potty” I replied. The hope in my voice trailing off as I realised what he was expecting me to do. He shook his head, chuckling a little, “just do it in your diaper, silly. It’s not that wet, you won’t leak.” I sulked, then whispered, “but I have to poop.” Daddy shrugged, “it smells like you already had a bit of a stinky accident already, so I’m going to have a messy clean up to deal with either way.” I went bright red. Until he mentioned the smell, I hadn’t even noticed. Had I messed in my sleep again, and just not noticed when I sat down? Or did I go while I was having breakfast? Or when I was walking back upstairs? “But I don’t want to do it in front of you?” I whined. Daddy raised his eyebrow, “You’re not normally this modest about being a stinky butt” he joked, stepping behind me and rubbing my back. Without even thinking I gave a little push. Nothing came out. Daddy noticed. Without saying a word he sat himself on my bed, and pulled me onto his lap, guiding my feet onto a little stool to raise them up so I was almost squatting, “try now” he whispered into my ear. I pushed again, wetting myself a little as I did. After a few moments of pushing I felt a big, soft mess erupt into my diaper.Daddy must have noticed too, as he whispered “good kitten” into my ear.I gave another little push, getting the last of the mess out. “Are you done?” I nodded. “I think so”. He hugged me tight for a few moments, then eased me up off of his lap, “let’s see what we’re dealing with” he said, as he gently tugged the back of my diaper. As he did the smell, which wasn’t too bad at first, filled the room. “Well that’s a pretty big mess. Guess the we shouldn’t have given you milk with your breakfast.” I was already pretty embarrassed, but this tipped me over the edge. My tummy went gurgly and my head fuzzy with the humiliation. “If I hadn’t said anything you’d have had a very stinky butt by the time we got to lunch” he teased. Leaving me where I was standing, Daddy reached under the bed and pulled out my changing mat, as well as some bed pads, wipes, creme, powder and gloves. I watched as he put the gloves on, and laid the changing mat and disposable bed pads out. Then, with a few playful pats on my butt, he guided me to lie down for my change. The mess mushed against my skin as I sat on the bed. It made me shiver a little. Daddy noticed. Once I was lying down he eased my pacifier into my mouth, and handed me BearBear, who I used to hide my face. He was very good at hiding my blushes when Daddy opened up the diaper and the smell got so much worse. I closed my eyes for the rest of the change, enjoying the feel of the wipes against my skin as Daddy cleaned me up. After a few minutes he lifted my butt off the bed, slid the clean diaper under me, covered me in rash and powder and taped me up in my clean diaper. I gave a little wiggle, enjoying the feeling, and he blew a raspberry on my belly. When daddy helped me off the bed I realised how big and babyish the diaper he’d put me in looked. It was a Tykeables Camelots, but he’d added a booster pad to it. I could barely put my legs together, and my butt looked enormous. “This diaper is huge” I whinged. “Everyone will see it”. “That sounds like a fuss to me” Daddy cautioned, “and babies who make a fuss don’t get treats, do they?” I sighed. “No Daddy.” He reached into my chest of drawers and took out a plain blue snap crotch romper, holding it up for me, “Arms up” I did as I was told,, allowing him to slide it over my head, then to button it closed. “That should help to keep it held up.” He explained, “now go pick out some big kid clothes for the day”. I did as he asked, taking a pair of baggy jeans and a cute t-shirt with a t-rex on it. I wanted to be big today, but not that big. Daddy packed a diaper bag for me as I got dressed, and as soon as I was ready we headed to the car. ***** We pulled up at the old mall, just outside the centre of town. It was only a small mall, and the retail stores had all closed down about a year ago. Since then the place had been converted into an entertainment complex, with a handful of quick service restaurants, a small bowling alley, indoor mini golf, an arcade, and a huge escape room complex. As we walked toward the building my eyes were drawn to a sign advertising an adult soft play centre ‘coming soon’. “Want to visit?” Daddy asked, seeing what I was looking at. “Yeah” I replied, my excitement evident in my voice. “Maybe we should see if Maya and Rett want to join us?” “Yeah” I agreed. Now even more excited. I loved spending time doing little-y things with Maya and Rett. they were so much fun. That’s why we booked the escape room with them today. It was nice having fun with people who were also Little, even if we were being big. Daddy led me to the place we were getting lunch. It had diner style food, and was really heavily themed to seem like a sleazy, grimey dive bar. Either they spent a fortune making it look right, or they left it as they found it when they moved in. It was hard to tell. Maya and Rett were already there, sitting at a table waiting for us. Although they were dressed ‘big’, a quick glance at their butt revealed they were as heavily padded as me. I wondered whether Daddy and Maya had conspired with each other before we left the house. We reached across the table for hugs, then sat down opposite them. “Excited?” Maya asked me. I nodded, a big grin on my face. She probably didn’t need to ask, I was bouncing up and down in my seat. There were a few reasons for that. “Did you see the sign outside?” I blurted out, at Rett and Maya. “the soft play?” Rett grinned, “yeah”. “Wanna come with us when it opens?” “Sure” Maya said. I stopped bouncing. Daddy and Maya both gave me The Look. Then Daddy leaned over to Maya, and whispered a little more loudly then I was happy about, “someone told me they didn’t want to wear a diaper today. Can you imagine what would have happened if I hadn’t put my foot down?” Maya chuckled to herself. “Rett was the same. They were so certain they weren’t going to be able to make it to the potty, but someone had a stinky butt before we’d even made it here.” Rett blushed bright red. “Everyone know what they want?” Daddy asked. “Chilli cheese fries and chilli cheese dog for me,” I said. “I’ll come with and get ours,” Maya told Daddy. “I’ll have a vanilla milkshake too please” I said as they walked away. Daddy gave me a look, “are you sure? That’s a lot of dairy”. “You said I could have what I wanted” I pouted. “I guess I did” Daddy replied. When he and Maya were out of earshot, I leaned over to Rett, “So are you ready to show them how much smarter and better we are than them?” “Yeah” Rett replied. “I’ve been reading up on puzzles these sort of places use. I think we should be able to get ourselves out pretty quickly.” “Not too quickly though,” I laughed, “we want to get our money’s worth”. Rett giggled. “Yeah. I mean, it’s relative. I hear this place can take up to three hours” I blanched “wow. Daddy said two. I don’t think I’d be able to go that long without needing a bathroom break” “I think that’s why they’ve put us in such thick padding. They expect us to take ages.” “We’ll show them” I said, as Daddy and Maya returned with our lunch. “Show us what?” Daddy asked. “Nothing.” I said, as innocently as I could. He didn’t seem to believe me. “Maybe you should show me your diaper so I can check if you need a change.” I blushed and shook my head, “OK, he said. “Well eat up, we’ll go to the bathroom to check you when we’re done eating.” ****** It didn’t take us too long to eat,and true to his word, Daddy and Maya led us into the bathrooms for diaper checks. We were both a little bit soggy, but we were in such thick padding they decided not to bother changing us. I was hoping I’d get a chance to try to poop, as I could already feel my tummy rumbling from all the dairy, but Daddy didn’t offer, and I didn’t want to ask in front of Maya and Rett, even though Daddy had made me go on my potty chair in front of them lots of times before. After that we headed to the escape rooms. The theming was amazing. The check in area was made to look like a space port, and when we went into the briefing room they had us sit down in seats like we were on a shuttle to a space station. They even vibrated and moved as the ‘ship’ flew us into ‘space’. In the briefing we were told that we were a rescue crew being sent to a space station which had lost communication with mission control. Our task was to investigate what had happened, and if we could, to find and rescue the crew. Once the briefing ended, the door at the front of the room slid open. We unstamped our 'safety harnesses', collected our thoughts, and stepped through into the first chamber. It was a small room with a sign saying 'AIRLOCK ONE'. A screen on the wall flickered into life. "Rescue crew, we're having some trouble connecting to the station's systems from down here" the guy on the static-filled 'transmission' explained, "we can't open the inner door to the airlock from down here. You're going to need to find a way to override it to get on board the station." As the transmission ended, the door from the 'shuttle' slid closed, and the flickering lights held steady at a dim glow. "Seems easy enough" Maya said, examining the numbered keypad beside the door. "I suppose we just need to find the code somewhere around the room. Daddy began searching for numbers, while Maya looked at the keypad from different angles. "maybe there will be some wear from where people have pressed the buttons before" she explained. "I'm not so sure that's the right solution" I said, but by then Maya and Daddy were already engrossed in their hunt, and didn't hear me, or at least didn't respond. "I think you're right" Rett agreed. "I haven't seen anything that looks like clues to a code, and they usually telegraph that sort of thing." "So what are you thinking?" I asked "Well, as it's an airlock I don't think there will be a crawl through to the next room, so I'm guessing they want us to do something to short out the lock" "So we're looking for a removable panel then?" "I think so." Rett replied. Our hunt began. Rett took one side, I took the other, and we crawled around the room, trying to tug the panels off the walls. When Maya noticed what we were doing she chuckled and called to Daddy, "have you seen what the two cuties are doing?" "Leave them for two minutes and they're already crawling around" he replied. The joke was on them, though, I managed to get a panel beside the airlock door off the wall. Behind it were five wires, one red, one yellow, one black, one white and one with black and yellow stripes. "I've found something" i called out. Everyone came over to look. "So how does this work?" Daddy asked, thinking out loud rather than expecting a response. I tugged the wires. All five of them came loose at one end. "I guess we just need to connect these up in a different way" I explained. "Should we just try solutions?" suggested Maya. I did as she suggested. This didn't seem very efficient, but it was better than just sitting staring. Rett was a bit shy around Daddy, so I didn't hear them talking at first, but then they tapped me on the shoulder. I looked round and they were holding the panel I’d taken off the wall. On the back of it, the side I'd laid on the floor, was a sign that read 'EMERGENCY OVERRIDE', with a picture of the solution. I set the wires how they were on the sign, and the door slid open. We moved through into the next chamber: a long hallway with lots of closed doors along each side. The monitor on the wall crackled into life. "Well done on getting through the airlock" the Guy at Mission Control said, "Sorry to spoil the moment, but we've got a readout here saying life support is failing, we need you to go to ops to get our downlink for the cameras and uplink for the doors turned back on, and to hydroponics to fix any issues you find." As the transmission ended, lights flicked on above two doors. One was marked 'Operations', the other 'Hydroponics'. Rett, confident from their earlier success, rushed towards the Operations Room. there was a button beside the door. They pressed it, the door slid open, and their face went white. When I caught up to them, we saw why. The room looked like a crime scene. There was blood on the walls, and several dummies made to look like the charred bodies of crew members on the floor. It looked amazing, but I can see why Rett was surprised. I gave them a hug to comfort them. When I did I noticed a smell. I whispered in their ear, "Did you have an accident because you were scared?" Rett nodded and whispered, "I think so". "Let's go in quick, before Daddy or Maya notice". I grabbed Rett's hand and led them inside. They seemed a little bit unsure, but followed. The room had lots of computer consoles with flickering screens, there were different labels above each of them, one said, 'CAMERAS', one had 'LIFE SUPPORT' one had 'DOOR CONTROL' and there were a few others. i went up to the one for the cameras and examined it. As I was looking, Daddy and Maya came into the room. I noticed Daddy sniffing a little bit and realised my hope to spare Rett's embarrassment was probably not great, as the room was fairly small. "It smells a bit funny in here" Maya said, as she walked up behind Rett. Daddy was already behind me, and I felt his hand on the back of my jeans. "I think it's the theming," Rett said, not convincing anyone, "they make it smell like that because of the bodies" "Is that so, Maya asked, gently patting their butt, "so it's not because someone had an accident then?" Rett winced and shook their head. I felt daddy's hand rubbing the back of my diaper, feeling for messies. "All clean here, he announced" "This one's definitely a little bit stinky" Maya announced, “but not too bad.” I saw Rett's expression change, as they began to slip into little space. I was going the same way, but I fought it so that my head was clear for the puzzles, "No fair!" I whined, "you're just trying to make us smol so we don't do better at solving puzzles than you," Daddy and Maya chuckled, not denying their trick. My revelation snapped Rett out of their reverie, and they began examining the Camera console. "it says the camera unlink is off" they explained, tapping the keyboard. when they pressed it a prompt came up asking for a password. "We need to find the password," they said, a hint of authority to their voice, "I imagine it will be written down somewhere". We began searching, not really sure what we were looking for, it felt an awful lot like we were wasting time, as it took us ages, but I eventually had a revelation. One of the 'bodies' was lying right by the consoles. I reached down and turned it over. sure enough, in the breast pocket of the flight suit, was a little pocket book. I opened it up, and inside were passwords. I handed it to Rett, and they began trying them. After three attempts the prompt flickered off, replaced with "PASSWORD CORRECT. TURN CAMERAS ON Y/N". Rett tapped 'Y' on the keyboard, and the two cameras in the corner of the room began to move left and right. We beamed at one another with satisfaction. "Hydroponics next" I declared, grabbing their hand and leading them towards the door. "Shouldn't we do the rest of the systems while we're here?" Daddy suggested. "No." I explained, "We’ll end up getting sidetracked. Besides, they might be part of puzzles we have to solve later on.” Rett and I practically skipped out into the hallway, and down to the hydroponics room. I don’t know what we were expecting to find, but this wasn’t it. The room was fairly small, but along the back wall were a bank of four glass-fronted chambers, and along the side of each chamber were racks upon racks of plants. It took my breath away for a moment, as I puzzled over how the builders of the escape room had made such a huge, long, plant nursery, until I realised they were nowhere near as deep as they looked, and the effect was achieved with a mirror at the back, and a half-mirror finish on the glass in front of me. One of the ‘growing chambers’ seemed normal, but three of them seemed to be on fire, with flickering orange lights and flame effects. As Daddy and Maya caught up with us, the screen on the wall flickered into life, and the briefing began, “You’re doing a great job, Rescue Team. We now have the feed from the cameras. As you can see, it seems there’s a fire in the hydroponics tanks. The fire suppression system has failed. We need you to get it back on before we lose all of them.” “That seems simple enough” Daddy said, a hint of confidence in his voice. I wasn’t so sure. On the floor in front of the tanks were about 20 sections of copper pipe, as well as an angle grinder. I guess in the story the grinder was used to cut the pipe up. There was a pipe connector on one of the tanks, which I assume was where we should be connecting one end of the pipe to, but I couldn’t see the where it was meant to run to. “Guys, I think it needs to run to here” Maya called over from the corner of the room. I was a little surprised that she was the one to find the opening. Not that she wasn’t smart, but I assumed she’d come here because it was Rett’s thing. I was glad she’d begun to get into the spirit of the game though. We gathered around her. She was right, of course. In the corner was a pipe, connected to the wall, with a little wheel on top, but it wasn’t going to be as simple as just connecting the pipe. In front of the opening was a maze of fixed pipework. We would have to build our line out from there, and hope we got the design right and that we would reach the other end without too much trouble. We began. The pipe went together fairly easily, as there were push-fit connectors on the end of each section. While I was crouching down I peed. I wanted to show Daddy I could hold it, but there was no way I’d make it all the way through, and I didn’t see any sense in trying to hold it and being uncomfortable for the rest of the day. I also felt my tummy rumble a little, which made me regret the milkshake a tiny bit. Even though it was really good. Our first attempt with the pipe didn’t work out. We came up about six inches too short. For a minutes or so we couldn’t decide how much of the existing construction to keep, and how much to rebuild. In the end we settled on a complete fresh start. We agreed to let Rett try a few attempts on their own. They were definitely the most suited to it, as they were really patient, but also quite quick with their hands. While Rett worked, I wandered up to Daddy and gave him a hug, and a kiss on his cheek. “What was that for, little kitty?” he asked “Nothin’” I said, in my cutest voice, “I just wanted to be cute at you.” He chuckled to himself. “Thank you, you succeeded.” As I walked away he gently caught my arm, “how’s your diaper doing?” he asked, “I noticed you were peeing yourself while we were putting the pipe together.” I blushed, “how?” “You were looking like you were holding it, then looked very relieved. It was cute.” My face was as hot as the flames in the tanks at the back of the room. “I think it’s OK, I didn’t go that much” “Do I need to check you?” I shook my head. “OK, it’s not like I can do much in here to change you anyway.” He let my arm go and gently patted my butt as I toddled back to Rett. By the time I got there they were just putting the last connecting pipe in place. “Want to do the honours?” they asked, nodding to the wheel on the outlet. “No! You did all the work. You should do it” I replied. They grinned, “I guess so”, they said, as they made their way to the wheel and turned it. Their gait had become really unsteady, and they had a noticeable waddle from their pee-soaked diaper. I wondered whether I was that obviously soaked as well. Before I could give it much thought though, Rett turned the wheel, and a spray of glitter poured down from the top of each of the tanks while strobe lights flashed inside them. After a few moments the lights in the tanks went back on. The plants in two of them were completely charred and blackened. The other had singed plants on one side, but the other was unnscathed. After our eyesight recovered, and we took a moment to marvel at what we’d just witnessed, our attention was drawn back to the video screen, “So I have bad news and worse news” The Guy from Mission Control was back, “You’ve stopped the fire, but we’ve lost 60% of the plant capacity, and the fire suppression powder is clogging up the filters. That means you’ve got about 100 minutes of useable oxygen before the air becomes unbreathable.” A countdown timer appeared at the bottom of the screen, “but that’s the less bad news. The bad news is that the ion engines have failed, and if you don’t fix them the station is going to hurtle back to earth. On it’s current course it will hit somewhere in Europe. The exact location is classified, but if you’ve planned a holiday in Paris it’s probably worth canceling it.” We headed back out into the hallway. At one end a light had turned on above a door marked, ‘ENGINE ROOM’. I grabbed Rett’s hand and led them down the hallway, although as we were both waddling due to our bulky padding, Daddy and Maya had less trouble keeping up with us. Inside the room was a stack of thin metal cylinders, each about three inches in diameter and two feet long. There was also a separate stack of hexagonal blocks, a similar diameter but a third of the length. On the other side of the room there were two seats like the ones on the shuttle, with VR headsets resting on top of them. Once again the video screen flickered and our briefing began. “You’re going to need to divide into two teams,” The Guy from Mission Control, looking far more wary now than he had done at the start of our adventure. “One team will be using the EVA headsets to control robots outside the station. Their task is to fix the leaks in the engine fuel lines. The other team will need to carefully remove the empty fuel cylinders and discharged battery blocks, and replace them with new units from storage. But be careful, There we’re reading a fault in the wiring, so if the casings of the batteries or fuel cylinders make contact with the containment unit walls, you will short out the power and blow up the station. No pressure though.” Rett was staring at the seats even before we walked in. They loved video games, and had been wanting to try VR for ages. They’d have probably been better at doing the cylinder puzzle than any of the rest of us, but there was no way I was going to take this away from them, “Daddy and I can do the cylinders” I volunteered, “want a hand getting strapped into the chair, Rett?” Their eyes lit up. “Don’t you want to try the VR?” Daddy asked me. “Yeah, but I think Rett would probably have more fun doing it with Maya” I replied. Daddy rubbed my back, “You’re a very good kitty” he whispered in my ear. I shivered a little, and grinned like a crazy person. Maya and Rett sat themselves down on the seats, while Daddy and I slipped the headsets over their heads, and handed them the controllers. Then we moved over to the cylinders. “We’ll have to be careful” Daddy cautioned, “Or we’ll end up cutting their game short”. One of the walls in the room held the ‘in use’ cylinders and batteries. The ends of the containers jutted out from the wall slightly, and each had an unlit LED next to it. “How do we get them out?” Daddy wondered aloud I looked at the ends, each of them had four notches cut into them. “I think there’s some sort of grabbing tool that we need to use. The other question is how we tell which ones need to be swapped out? The LEDs are probably indicators, but they all seem to be off” I hadn’t noticed, but Daddy had stepped away while I was speaking. When he came back he had a claw for grabbing the cylinders, and a fairly nondescript black box with a handle. “Look what I found” he said. He was grinning. I took the box off of him and began waving it just in front of the cylinder ends. As I did the LEDs started lighting up. Some green, some red. “Ooh, I think it’s done with EM fields” I said “What?” asked Daddy. “The box sends a small magnetic field out, and that powers a circuit that lights the LEDs up.” I explained, “It’s really clever”. “So are you.” Daddy replied. I moved the box to the top left hand side of the wall and started systematically moving it across the cylinders. The third one I got to had a red LED. “This one needs changing” I announced, “Really? I thought you could probably last a bit longer” Daddy joked. Then he grabbed the end of the cylinder with the grippers and gently eased it out of the wall. He went slowly, and supported the bottom of it with his hand as it came out. Depositing the cylinder on the ground, he picked up a new one, and lifted it in. “These are heavier than they look” He complained. “Yeah, I agreed. “They will be because you’re having to lift them from the end”. We continued, with me finding cylinders to change, and Daddy removing and replacing them. It took a while, but eventually we succeeded. All without ‘frying the station’ and ending the game. Once it was complete we moved over to where Rett and Maya were. They were just finishing up, and Rett had a big grin on their face. “How was it?” I asked. “AMAZING!” Rett enthused, bouncing out of the chair. “I didn’t think we were going to do it, because I dropped a spanner and it started floating away, but Maya fired her thrusters, grabbed the spanner and threw it back to me.” Maya took a little bow. Then the video started playing. “Well, you’ve saved Paris” The Guy said, before producing a party popper and setting it off, “And look at that, you’ve got over an hour to work out what happened. Loads of time. We can’t download the logs from here, as they’re isolated from the system, but they’re probably the best place to start. And we’ll be able to monitor them once you begin watching them. You’ll find them in the ops room”. “I guess we’re going back to ops then,” Daddy said. As we walked back down the hallway, Rett looked at the doors that still hadn’t opened, “I wonder what’s behind those?” “I’m sure we’ll find out soon” Maya replied. In the ops room we couldn’t see a console marked ‘LOGS’, but there was one marked ‘PLAYBACK’, which had a USB port and a box of thumb drives beside it marked ‘logs’. I grabbed a drive at random and put it in the port. It started playing. On the screen was a woman with close-cropped, dark hair. She had an air of authority. “Since the incident, Reeve’s behavior has been getting worse” she explained, “I don’t know whether it’s because he’s worried about a possible infection, or something to do with the contamination itself, but he’s rude, aggressive, and has come close to violence. I’m giving it 24 hours, and if things haven’t calmed down I’m ordering an evac for him.” This was clearly from partway through whatever had happened. I pulled the drive out, grabbed another from the box and inserted it in. It was the same woman: “Reeves and I were checking his PPE gear back into storage, and we noticed a slight nick in one of the outer gloves. It’s probably nothing, he wouldn’t have made contact with the slime, but it’s still worried me a little. He’s agreed to spend the night in medical for observation, and we’ll address it when we’re less exhausted.” I swapped the drive out for another. The screen filled with an image of the operations room, shot from one of the security cameras. Several of the crew were busy working, including the woman who had been making the logs. Then the door opened and a tall guy walked in. It might have been a glitch on the recording, but it almost looked like his hands were on fire. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and looked at him. He walked up to each person in turn, completely calmly, and as he got to them, they burst into flames. Once the screen went black I took a moment to collect myself from the shock of what I’d seen and changed out the thumb drive again. The woman, who I’d come to assume was the station’s commander, was back. “We’ve found some sort of residue built up around the vents for the filtration system,” the Commander explained, “It’s probably innocuous, but it doesn’t look like the usual grime that collects on the station, and no one can recall seeing it yesterday. I’ve asked Reeves to collect some samples and take them to medical” The screen went black. Just before I could replace the drive, it came on again, “Reeves has successfully collected a sample. Frankly that’s an understatement. He cleared what he could find and filled eleven containers worth. I’ve had one container taken to medical for analysis, and the rest I’ve locked up in the storage closet in ops until we know what we’re dealing with” I glanced at Rett, who had clearly already seen the door marked “STORAGE”, and was walking towards it. As they got close to the door it started banging from the inside. Rett stopped dead, started to whimper, then darted to Maya, giving her a big hug. I’d gone white, and as I calmed down a little I realised I was grasping Daddy’s hand. Then I started laughing. “Well that was horrible” I said, breaking the tension. Maya was stroking Rett’s hair, although even they were laughing as well. “Maybe we should check out Medical” Rett suggested, “I’d rather not find out what’s behind that door.” “Will we be able to get into it? Maya asked, “So far they’ve opened the doors of the rooms they want us to go in”. Daddy shrugged, “Only one way to find out”. He led us out of the room and down the hallway. When we got to the door marked ‘MEDICAL’ he pushed the button beside the door. It slid open. “Guess we’re allowed in,” he said. Inside it looked trashed. There were beds on their sides, smashed up sample containers and equipment scattered everywhere. “Are we looking for anything in particular in here?” asked Maya “I don’t know” I replied, “Nothing I can think of” “I don’t think there will be anything in here” Rett explained, “They would have given us clear instruction if it was part of the game, I just wanted to take a look before we got to the end” I noticed a glass cylinder on the ground, buried under some of the scattered detritus. It was filled with a black, jelly-like substance. I gently nudged it with my foot, “guess that’s the sample then” I said. As I moved, I felt my tummy lurch. I was really enjoying myself, but if we didn’t get to the end pretty soon I was going to have a major accident, “where next?” I asked. “The crew rooms?” Rett suggested, “We haven’t looked in there yet, and there might be more clues.” We moved into the crew accommodation - a fairly small room with eight capsule-like bunks in two banks either side. We began with the top bunk on the left hand side, and drew the curtain on each in turn. The first two were empty, but the third had a mannequin in it, covered in fake blood. If we hadn’t had the shock in the ops room it probably would have been upsetting, but as it was it just kind of made us all chuckle. “He doesn’t seem very well” Daddy joked. Which made me groan. There were two more ‘bodies’ both equally bloody in two of the other bunks.Beside one of them was a hardback notepad, with a cover that read ‘EMERGENCY CREW LOG BOOK’. I picked it up, and opened it. There were only two entries. I began to read the first one to everyone, “Mission Log, Day 42 - We have sealed ourselves into the accommodation. Reeves has taken control of operations, and has The Commander, Matthews, Radjek, Upesh and Huang with him. We have noidea about their condition, or if they’re even alive. He has destroyed medical, almost completely, deactivated the Escape Pod, and set traps in the Hydroponics. One of those traps has severely injured Magnusdottir, and she’s in critical condition. Njeri and I are planning to try to enter ops, and restrain Reeves shortly”. I paused a little before moving on to the next log, “We have restrained Reeves. In doing so both Njeri and I have been seriously injured. I’ve done what I can to stabilise both of us, but nothing I can do will stop the bleeding. Unless we get some sort of miracle, we won’t survive the night.” As I finished reading the log an alert siren started ringing, and the lighting in the room, as well as the hallway changed to flashing orange. An automated voice came from hidden speakers in the room, asking us to, “PLEASE PROCEED TO THE OPERATIONS ROOM”. It seemed the ‘mission’ was coming to its end. I was pleased about that. I was beginning to sweat a little as the strain of holding took its toll. From the look on Rett’s face, they were in a similar position. I suspect Daddy had noticed the struggle I was going through as well. He smiled, held his hand toward the door, and said, “shall we?”, and as I passed him, he gave me a gentle patt on my butt. When we got to operations, the door to the store cupboard was open. Inside were several containers, like the one in Medical, each with the same black jelly. Several of them were broken, “I dare you to try it,” I joked to Rett, which caused them to giggle. After a moment of examining the cupboard, Maya drew our attention over to the Playback console. The drives in the box had all gone. In their place was a single drive on top of the console. Maya plugged it into the usb port. The screen began playback. It was showing the exterior of the station, with a transport shuttle attached. Slowly the shuttle undocked, and began to float away. When the playback ended, the video screen in the corner of the room crackled back into life showing the Guy from Mission Control, “Congratulations Rescue Team.” he began,” You’ve stopped the station crashing to earth, and you’ve gathered lots of evidence for what happened to the crew. Unfortunately it seems the shuttle that should be taking you back has… detached itself from the station. We’re not sure how that’s happened, but don’t worry, we do have an escape pod. You’re just going to need to fix the bits that were.. disabled by the crew member who had difficulties. Please proceed to the ENGINE ROOM where we will brief you. And not to make worry too much, you have ten minutes of oxygen left.” As he was speaking I felt my control slip even further, and a fart escaped without me being able to do anything about it. It was silent, but the smell was awful. Daddy leaned over to me, “have you made a stinky in your diaper?” he whispered. I shook my head, “just gas Daddy, I promise.” He didn’t seem entirely convinced, as I looked very uncomfortable, but he let it slide. In truth my discomfort was from how hard I was fighting to avoid an accident. But I thought I would be able to hold it for the next ten minutes. We got to the engineering room, and the Guy from Mission Control was on the screen again to brief us: “The damage to the escape pods is minor”, he explained, “but has caused issue with the holding clamps. Two of your team will need to use the EVA robots to make the repairs. Rett’s eyes lit up at the prospect of a second go with the VR, then they paused, “Would you guys like a go this time,” they offered, “it only seems fair.” Daddy waved his hand, “I’m OK thanks” he said, then gestured to me and Rett, “I think you guys would enjoy it most if you did it together” No one needed to tell us twice. Rett and I jumped into the seats, and Maya and Daddy helped us with the headsets. It was sooo cool. I looked around, and as I did I could see the parts of the robot. The arms moved when I moved the controllers I was holding, and it felt like I was floating in space. Then I heard Rett’s voice in my ear, through the headset’s interlink “What do you think?” they asked, “It’s so cool” I replied, “I had no idea it was going to feel like this” “Yep. incredible, isn’t it?” they continued. “Now press the thruster button on the controller, and let’s go fix the escape pod” I watched as Rett, or at least, their robot, floated away from the station, then thrusted around it heading in the direction of the escape pod, which was marked by an arrow on the display. I tapped the button on my left controller to trigger the retro thrustor and moved away from the station, then tapped the button on the right to fire the forward thruster and followed them. We reached the escape pod, selected the cutting attachment on our robots, and set about removing the clamps holding the pod in place. I was having so much fun, and so lost in what I was doing that I forgot I was meant to be holding. I felt my stomach lurch and cramp, and then it was too late. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop it. Mushy mess began to leak out, a small amount at first, then a flood. The resistance of the chair causing it to squish all though my diaper. The mess was bad, but the smell was worse. Rett’s voice came through my ear again, “Have you had an accident?” “Mmmhmmm” I whimpered, still trying to cut virtual clamps as my mind dropped into little space from my accident. “So have I” they continued, “it’s OK”. That helped. I focused as best as I could, and we managed to cut the escape pod free. It took us a minute more to get the robots back to the station, then we removed the headsets. As I took mine off I found Daddy standing over me, “Is someone a stinky butt?” he asked. It was a redundant question, it was incredibly obvious I’d pooped my diaper. I nodded in response anyway, too dazed from the combination of the VR and the accident to do much more. He reached down and helped me out of the seat, “We’ll get you cleaned up as soon as we’re done kiddo” he reassured me. I was in a daze as the final video message flashed up. It was The Guy from Mission Control again, “Congratulations EVA team, you’ve managed to free the escape pod. Unfortunately we’ve seen something on the camera feed. It seems Reeves is still on the station. You need to go. Now! Run!” The door to the Engine Room slid open, as did a door across the hallway with a sign reading ‘ESCAPE POD’ above it. Rett and Maya led the way, Rett waddling more than they had been before. Daddy and I followed. Daddy kept his gentle grip on my arm as I was still pretty spacey. As we crossed through the hallway I looked toward the airlock doors. They were open, and a figure was standing in them. I couldn’t see properly, the lighting was behind him, but it seemed like his hands were on fire. We reached the ‘escape pod’ and the door slid shut behind us. There were eight seats around the room, the same as in the ‘shuttle’. Maya and Rett were already sitting down and strapped in. Daddy helped ease me down into one, then took the seat next to me. As soon as we strapped in the seats began to judder, the lights in the room flashed, and a rumbling noise came over the speakers. Then some triumphant music began to play, the lights came up, and the door at the back of the room slid open. I was riding high from the victory, and the mixture of emotions. Daddy had to unbuckle my safety strap so I could get out of the chair. We walked toward the door, where a guy was waiting to congratulate us. He looked a little confused when Rett walked past him, noticing the slight smell from their diaper. Then I walked past. And the look on his face made it very clear there was no hiding what I’d done. We emerged back into the mall complex, and it was packed. Both Rett and I became very shy, very quickly, aware of how obvious it was that we were messy. At least Rett had the advantage of being around me, and the smell of my diaper would likely cloak theirs. Daddy and Maya took the lead, holding our hands and guiding us through the throng of people, and straight to the bathrooms. Maya then took Rett and I into the accessible bathroom while Daddy went to get the my changing bag from our car. Away from people, the excitement from the escape room took back over, and Rett and I began to talk about the experience. “Did you see the guy at the end?” Maya joined in, “I honestly thought we were going to die!” “And the banging in the closet” Rett added, glancing down at their diaper, “I had a bit of an accident then too”. Just as I was about to reply, there was a knock at the door. Rett yelped a little. “It’s me” Daddy’s voice came through the door. Rett sighed with relief, which made Maya and me giggle. I unlocked the door and let him in. “Phew. You two stinky butts really need a change” he said, as he came in. He put the diaper bag down, and laid a changing mat on the floor. “Who’s first?” I looked over at Rett, they were being shy again.”I will, Daddy” I offered. I stepped forward, and Daddy undid the button on my jeans and eased them down my legs, “Step out please” he asked. I did as I was told. He then reached up and unsnapped the buttons on my romper. As he did, my diaper sagged down. . “On the mat please kiddo” Daddy said. I crouched down, then eased myself onto the mat, feeling the mess squelch against my butt as it did. Then I laid down and Daddy began the change. As he untapped the diaper, the smell filled the room. I felt my cheeks warm up form the shame of having such a stinky diaper changed in front of our friends, the sense of humiliation was almost overwhelming. It was wonderful. I have no idea how long the change took, I was far too spacey to keep track, but eventually Daddy slipped a clean diaper underneath me - without additional padding this time - and taped it closed. Then he helped me up and gave me a hand getting dressed again. As he did, Maya had Rett lay on the mat and began their change. They looked so scared and uncomfortable. I crouched down and held their hand and stroked their hair..That seemed to relax them. After a few minutes they were in a clean and dry diaper, and we were ready to go. We walked out of the bathroom and headed back to our cars. As we walked, we passed the entrance to the arcade. “Shall we stay a little longer?” Daddy asked, glancing over ot it. “Yes!” I shouted, my voice full of enthusiasm. “It seems a shame to go home so early” Maya agreed. “Can I have an ice cream first please though Daddy?” I asked, “You did say I could have whatever treats I wanted.”.
  23. Im 20 years old and live in the UK, i use 16fr foley catheters to stimulate incontinence and i have done it every weekend for the last year or so, does anyone else use catheters as a way to lose bladder control ? Thoughts on this?.
  24. I don’t post much, but thank you to those that do. I’ve been mentally stuck and am looking for some community insight. Earlier this year I started wearing diapers 24/7 to manage my IBS and stop accidents in my pants. I’ve always had minor issues with IBS all my life but never wore diapers to manage it, however, life changes as you age. I did wear diapers for pleasure, but at 42 the reason for my diaper usage has changed. It’s been about 7 months since I’ve started wearing it has been more mentally reassuring knowing that should I need my diaper, I’m covered. ? While I make jokes, it’s to cover the fact that a part of me wishes that it was just for pleasure, anyway, it is what it is. The reason for the post is the last couple of months, when I need to pee, I’ve been using my diaper as it’s often easier, more convenient, my diaper doesn’t stretch out for sliding it down, I don’t have to run off and find a toilet when I’m out, and I could. Plus I wear the megamax as it’s fit is awesome and is super comfy and contains any kind of mess extremely well. However, for some strange reason I fell like I’m doing something wrong, like I feel some shame when I’ve used my diaper voluntarily as opposed to when it’s not voluntarily. When it’s comes to wetting, I’m not actively training to be diaper dependent, my IBS has done that for me already. Like the other day, in the grocery store, I had to go and some leaked out. I just went about my shopping as I was almost done and left and went home. While I was feeling a little embarrassed, it wasn’t much and would have been worse if I wasn’t protected and that’s why I wear diapers. So, mentally, it wasn’t that big of a deal. I guess my question is; does anyone else who wears for medical need that also has control use their diapers voluntarily? Or do you try to make it to the toilet? Bonus question, am I just overthinking this? Thank you for your input!☺️
  25. I've been listening to premade hypnosis fules for months now to try and achieve conplete incontinence/ diaper dependence (along with untraining constantly for approaching 4 months now) But not to much luck, though I have heard that it often helps people to do one on one untraining with a hypnotist/therapist, but I'm having trouble finding ones that will respond, does anyone have any recomendations?
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