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

The Wrong Kind of Dry After releasing a deceptively named hypnosis file as a trap for those who stole her work, Cassandra successfully catches hundreds of pirates in an inescapable cycle of submissive regression. Part One – The Mommy’s Frustration Her name in the real world was Cassandra, but to the thousands of listeners scattered across the deep web, she was known simply as HypnoMommyCass. For three years, she had poured her soul, her expertise, and countless hours into crafting the absolute finest adult baby hypnosis files available anywhere on the internet. She was no amateur recording breathy whispers into a cheap USB microphone. Her work was comprised of professional, studio-quality masterpieces. She spent weeks meticulously scripting each session, layering complex neuro-linguistic suggestions over precision binaural beats that were carefully synced to human heart-rate data. Her subliminal anchors were woven so deeply into the audio tracks that her listeners frequently woke up humming her trigger phrases, humping their pillows, and instinctively whispering the word “Mommy” into the dark before they even fully realized they had spoken. Because of this unparalleled quality, she charged fair prices and made a comfortable living. More importantly to her, she genuinely changed lives. Her private inbox was a treasure trove of tearful testimonials from loyal, deeply grateful clients. They wrote to her about marriages that had been saved from the brink, about the lifelong, toxic shame that had finally dissolved, and about the sheer relief of men who were finally able to surrender the crushing, exhausting weight of adulthood for a few precious hours a week. Then, the leeches arrived. It started as a trickle and quickly became a flood. Within days of a new, premium release, Cassandra would find her finest files ripped and uploaded across the web—on every piracy torrent site, every underground ABDL Discord server, and every sprawling Reddit thread dedicated to the lifestyle. The pirates were ruthless. They stripped away her carefully embedded audio watermarks, butchered her flawless studio quality by cheaply re-encoding the tracks at a muddy 128kbps, and passed her life’s work around like cheap candy. The comment sections on these stolen uploads made her blood boil. “Free hypno for littles!!” they cheered. “MommyCass is gatekeeping, fuck her,” read another highly upvoted post. Almost overnight, her legitimate sales plummeted. To add insult to injury, her DMs—once a place of gratitude—began to fill with demanding, angry messages from thieves using broken, incomplete copies of her work. People aggressively demanded to know why their “bedwetting lite” file wasn’t working, entirely oblivious to the fact that they had downloaded a corrupted, half-baked copy from some teenager in Ohio. One man even had the audacity to threaten to expose her real-world identity and dox her because his stolen "Bedwetting Conditioning" file “didn’t even work right.” Cassandra sat alone in the dark of her studio, the glow of her dual monitors illuminating her face as she stared at her plunging analytics. A mug of chamomile tea sat forgotten and cooling beside her mechanical keyboard. Her jaw was clenched so tightly that her back teeth actually ached. They want free content? she thought, her eyes narrowing at the screen. Fine. If they wanted free files so badly, she would give them one. But it wouldn’t be the light, easy fantasy they expected. She would give them something they would never, ever be able to delete. She swiveled in her chair and booted up her professional audio workstation, adjusting her binaural microphones and pulling up her custom-built subsonic trigger generator. She created a fresh, blank project timeline and typed in the working title: Operation Trojan Diaper. “They think they want light bedwetting,” Cassandra murmured to the empty room, her voice a terrifying blend of maternal warmth and cold vengeance. “What they really want—what they’ve always wanted—is to let go completely. To be helpless. To be owned.” She took a slow, centering breath, hit the record button, and began to speak. Part Two – The File She spent hours perfecting the audio architecture of the trap. Utilizing everything she had, wrapping it in highly complex neuro-linguistic programming layers, she meticulously assembled the most potent recording of her career. She titled the file with a subtle, calculated innocence: “Goodnight, Not-Dry Nights - Gentle Bedtime Solution” The description attached to the upload was a masterclass in vague reassurance, designed specifically to lower the defenses of the very people she was hunting without ever explicitly making a promise. It read: “A safe, progressive hypnosis file for bedtime. No regression. Just peaceful, not-dry mornings and better sleep. For consenting adults only.” The genius was in what it omitted. It never actually implied bedwetting, but it was just suggestive enough that the "lite" community would project their own desires onto it, filling in the blanks themselves to justify their deepest kinks without feeling like they were crossing a line. To avoid tying this destructive payload to her pristine professional brand, she seeded the file herself. She uploaded it across every major piracy forum, torrent tracker, and Reddit sharing board under a brand-new, unassuming account name: LullabyMommy. Then, she sat back, took a slow sip of her chamomile tea, and waited for the trap to spring. The bait proved absolutely irresistible. The download counter on her hidden analytics page ticked up almost immediately—twenty, fifty, then two hundred downloads within the very first hour. Her targets were practically fighting over the free content. Within four hours, the file had hit an astonishing 1,200 downloads. By the time the pale morning light began to filter through Cassandra’s studio blinds, over 4,000 people had eagerly saved the recording to their hard drives and smartphones. Cassandra just smiled. They had absolutely no idea what they had just invited into their minds. The file was exactly sixty-three minutes long. Cassandra had engineered the first twenty minutes to be an absolute paradise of sound—some of her most flawless, high-quality relaxation and induction work ever recorded. This opening segment was genuinely safe, explicitly designed to completely bypass any conscious resistance or skepticism, melting the listener down into a profoundly deep, suggestible state of trance. But the remaining forty-three minutes were something else entirely. Once the listener was paralyzed in a state of absolute, trusting vulnerability, the file shifted into a carefully engineered psychological snare. The second half of the recording was a weaponized piece of audio designed to ruthlessly exploit the exact, messy desires these thieves were too ashamed to admit they harbored—the desperate, hidden craving to let go completely and be owned. Part Three – The Downloader (Leo) Leo was a twenty-eight-year-old man who was naturally anxious, soft-spoken, and chronically overworked. He lived entirely alone in a cramped studio apartment, a small, lonely space that always seemed to smell faintly of sweet baby powder and a deep, lingering sense of shame. Hidden away under his bed was his darkest secret: a heavy, locked footlocker. Inside that trunk, he had hoarded over $800 worth of premium adult diapers. The stash included top-tier brands—thick Rearz, ABU, and Bambino—alongside embarrassingly adorable, plastic-backed prints of cartoon bears that he desperately pretended he didn’t love. He hated this part of himself and had tried to quit his secret desires more times than he could even count. He had thrown his stash in the dumpster a dozen times, only to inevitably order it all again. He had exhausted every self-help method he could find: talk therapy, punishingly cold showers, and strict NoFap protocols, all in a desperate bid to purge the urge from his mind. Nothing ever worked. The need always clawed its way back into his psyche, returning stronger and more insistent every single time he tried to suppress it. When he stumbled upon the forum link for the free “Goodnight, Not-Dry Nights - Gentle Bedtime Solution” file, his heart did a little, traitorous flip in his chest. To his exhausted mind, discovering the upload felt exactly like fate. He read the carefully vague description and immediately began justifying the download to himself. Not-dry mornings, he reasoned, obviously meant light bedwetting. It sounded entirely plausible and strictly medical, offering him a comfortable layer of plausible deniability. He could easily tell himself that he was just experimenting with a mild, harmless kink, engaging in a little nighttime accident prevention rather than fully surrendering to the crushing, humiliating need to be a baby. That night, at exactly 11:03 PM, Leo began his meticulous nighttime ritual. He took a long, hot shower, shaved himself carefully, and thoroughly dusted his skin with baby powder. He unlocked his footlocker, selected the absolute thickest diaper he owned from the stack, and taped it securely around his waist. He paused to check the leak guards twice, ensuring a perfect, snug fit against his legs. The thick plastic shell of the garment crinkled loudly in the suffocating silence of his solitary apartment as he finally slipped beneath his heavy bed covers. He reached over to his nightstand, grabbed his phone, and plugged in his earbuds. Just this once, he lied to himself, staring up at the dark ceiling. Just a little accident prevention. Totally normal. Taking a shaky, nervous breath, he pressed play. Part Four – The Descent The first twenty minutes of the file were absolute paradise. Cassandra’s voice poured into his ears like warm honey—maternal, faintly amused, and gently authoritative. It coaxed him down into a profound state of relaxation he had never managed to reach before. “That’s it, sweetheart… breathe in slowly… and let it all go on the exhale,” her voice murmured through the binaural tracks, swirling around his head. “Notice how heavy your body feels. So safe. So protected. The diaper is soft. The diaper is safe. The diaper is exactly where you belong at night. No judgment. No expectation. Just… warmth.” Under the gentle weight of her words, Leo felt his limbs completely dissolve. His anxious thoughts became slow, syrupy, and distant. Her voice was flawless, perfectly designed to melt away his defenses. By the fifteen-minute mark, his conscious mind was reduced to nothing more than a sleepy passenger. By minute eighteen, he had crossed the threshold; he was entirely gone, having fallen into a deep, heavy, natural sleep with his mouth hanging slightly open. But the file kept playing. At the twenty-minute mark, the entire tone of the recording shifted. The soothing ambient music grew deeper and much more primal. A low, rhythmic, subsonic pulse—vibrating just below the threshold of normal hearing—began to throb insistently against his pelvic floor. Cassandra’s voice returned, but it was quieter, more intimate now, dropping to a dark whisper that made it feel as if she was sitting on the edge of his bed, her lips lightly brushing his ear. “Good boy,” she praised softly. “The conscious mind is sleeping now. That’s good. But your deeper self is listening. We are going to speak to the part of you that has always been a baby. The part that is tired of holding on. The part that’s tired of pretending.” In the dark room, Leo’s sleeping face twitched, and his eyelids fluttered as his breathing deepened. “You are lying in a crib,” her voice guided him, pulling him further down. “You are very, very small. The world is soft and warm. And there is a pressure in your tummy. Not a bad pressure. A full pressure. A ready pressure. That warm, heavy fullness is not something to fight. It means your body is working. It means your body wants to be honest.” For the next ten minutes, the file focused heavily on suggestions for relaxing the lower abdominal muscles. She framed it as the key to bladder control, but the real hook was buried deeper. “When you relax your lower belly… your whole body lets go,” she commanded smoothly. “Those deep muscles loosen. They soften. They open. And when they open completely… your bowels will follow. The same relaxation that eases a full bladder also eases a full bowel. One release. One surrender. No difference. No shame. Just warmth.” She relentlessly paired every reference to “lower abdominal relaxation” with a stronger, more insidious bowel command. The decoy worked because it felt logical — relax the belly, everything below releases. But the anchor was always the mess. Then came the lock—the devastating core programming she had designed for absolute permanence. Her words became slow, rhythmic, and inescapable. “Listen closely, little one. The mess is not an accident. The mess is a gift. Every time you fill your diaper in your sleep, you are giving something to Mommy. You are telling her, ‘I trust you. I belong to you. I am yours.’” She began a hypnotic, chant-like repetition, weaving the trigger phrases directly into the heavy subsonic pulse of the lullaby. “Mess for Mommy. Let it happen. Love the mess. Submission is messy. Messy is love.” Leo’s perfectly relaxed stomach gurgled softly in the silence of the apartment, his abdomen twitching as his sleeping body obeyed her without a single ounce of resistance. “You will not wake up. You will not struggle. Push gently,” she whispered. “Your body knows what to do. A slow, gentle push. Feel it slide out, warm and thick. Feel the warmth spreading. Feel the soft weight filling the back of your diaper. It feels… good. It feels like being held. Like being forgiven. Like being seen.” In the real world, Leo’s hips shifted slightly against the mattress, and his face softened into a beatific expression of pure, innocent bliss. A long, low, wet, crackling sound—ppprrrrfffft—escaped into the thick padded seat of his diaper. The back of the plastic shell began to swell dramatically, sagging and darkening as the warm, heavy mess spread against his skin. He let out a long, fluttering sigh in his sleep, a sound of absolute, unconditional contentment. “That’s my good baby. Let it all out. Fill it up,” Cassandra’s voice praised him, dripping with manufactured affection. “That heavy, messy weight is love. The mess is your love letter to Mommy. And you will wake up knowing this: you chose this. Not because you were tricked, but because deep down, you wanted to be owned. You wanted to be helpless. And now you are.” The file continued to play for nearly thirty more minutes, mercilessly hammering the messing triggers deep into his subconscious. She meticulously linked the physical act to every future sleep state, every moment of deep relaxation, and commanded that he would crave this feeling. She anchored the ultimate trigger so that every single time he heard a soft, maternal voice say the word “goodnight,” his body would remember, he would fill his diaper, and he would never be able to stop. Then, the audio faded out. Silence reclaimed the room. Leo slept on peacefully through the night, nestled safely in his own warm, heavy, messy diaper, a small, contented smile resting on his lips. Part Five – The Awakening He woke at 6:15 AM to the pale gray light of a winter morning creeping through his blinds. For a few fleeting, blissful seconds, everything felt absolutely wonderful. He felt profoundly rested, his limbs loose and heavy, his mind floating in a cloud of peaceful, unbothered serenity. He stretched his arms above his head, letting out a long yawn. And then his adult consciousness slammed into his physical reality. He registered the heavy, squelching, semi-solid mass filling the entire back of his diaper. The thick, earthy, intimately rich adult smell rose from beneath his heavy winter covers, hitting his nostrils like a physical blow. Leo froze, his heart instantly hammering violently against his ribs. No. No, no, no. Slowly, trembling with dread, his hand reached back and pressed against the swollen, sagging seat of the plastic shell. It yielded disgustingly under his fingers, warm and sickeningly thick. He scrambled upright, ripping the covers back and staring in absolute horror at his lap. The front of his pristine white diaper was bone dry—not a single drop of urine. But the back was a complete, undeniable disaster. He could feel the heavy mess clinging warmly to his skin, a stark, humiliating violation of every boundary he thought he possessed. His face burned with a shame so intense it made him dizzy. This isn’t bedwetting, his panicked mind screamed. This is… this is… With hands shaking so badly he could barely hold the device, he ripped off his earbuds and unlocked his phone, desperate to find an explanation, a fix, or someone to tell him it was just a bad dream. He frantically opened the file’s download page. The comment section was absolute chaos; it had flooded overnight with hundreds of panicked, broken men. “WTF IS THIS? I woke up in a MESSY diaper. I’ve never messed in my life. I’m 34. I can’t stop touching it.” “The trigger is getting stronger. I almost messed at my desk today just thinking about her voice. I barely stopped it. HELP.” “I’m scared but… I put on another diaper and listened again. I’m such a fucking baby.” Reading the comments, Leo’s breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t alone. They had all been completely compromised. Then, his eyes dragged upward to a final comment, pinned at the very top of the board, posted just minutes ago from LullabyMommy: “You stole my work for years. You called it ‘sharing.’ So here’s my share. You wanted to be babies. Real babies don’t stay dry. Real babies fill their diapers and love it. Don’t worry—the feeling grows stronger each night. And you’ll keep listening. Because I know what you really want. Goodnight, little ones. ♡” Reading that single sign-off—Goodnight—brought the memory of her soft, maternal voice echoing sharply in his mind. Because he was only reading the word and not hearing her say it, the hypnotic anchor didn’t trigger a full, involuntary release. Instead, the mere memory manifested a powerful, undeniable "presser" deep in his gut. A low, insistent pressure instantly built in his lower belly, heavy and cramping. His muscles strained as a desperate, aching urge to push washed over him, completely bypassing his conscious desires. He clamped his eyes shut and tried to clench his muscles with all his might, fighting a frantic, losing war against his own awakened neurology. The phantom pressure was suffocating, and as he fought the intense urge to surrender right then and there, the most terrifying thing of all happened: the crushing wave of shame was swallowed by an overwhelming wave of warmth, of relief, of a twisted pleasure that felt disturbingly like love. The internal conflict tore his adult identity to shreds. He came hard right there in the dry front of the diaper without even touching himself, sobbing aloud into the silence of his apartment. He hated her. He hated himself. But his hand, moving as if possessed by someone else, was already reaching for the play button again. He desperately needed to hear her say goodnight one more time. He fought the urge, surviving for three agonizing days of cold sweats and panic attacks before he finally broke and listened to the file again. The surrender was rapid and absolute. By day seven, the anxiety of fighting his conditioning was so crippling that he began wearing his thickest diapers 24/7, "just in case" the trigger caught him off guard. By day twelve, his transformation was complete; he had ordered new supplies in massive bulk shipments and spent his nights curled up in his crib-like bed, softly whispering "Mess for Mommy" under his breath as he pushed. He wasn’t the only one. Hundreds of former "tough guys" and internet pirates were breaking down in hidden forums, secretly and desperately loving their inescapable new reality alongside him. Part Six – The Mommy’s Evening Across the city, far away from the panicked realizations echoing in hundreds of lonely apartments, Cassandra leaned back in her plush studio chair. She watched the comment section of her uploaded file continue to explode, scrolling through the desperate, broken pleas of the men who had stolen from her. She picked up her mug of chamomile tea, took a slow sip, and smiled. “That ought to teach them,” she said softly to the glow of her monitors. After three years of having her hard work ripped off and her boundaries disrespected, justice had never felt so unbelievably sweet. Satisfied that her digital trap was self-sustaining, she stood up, stretched her stiff muscles, and walked down the hall to her bedroom. She stepped inside and firmly locked the door behind her, shutting out the rest of the world. On her large bed, laid out with the meticulous precision of a nurse preparing for a patient, was a thick white diaper and a soft pink onesie. Cassandra undressed and changed into the thick padding with practiced ease, taking comfort in the familiar, snug crinkle of the plastic shell as she taped herself up tightly. She climbed under her heavy duvet, reaching over to her nightstand to retrieve a pink pacifier, which she popped into her mouth. Before she closed her eyes, she unlocked her phone and queued up a highly guarded, private audio file—one she had recorded just for herself a long time ago. Its title on the screen read: “Goodnight, Little Mommy.” The voice on this particular file was completely different from the dominant, authoritative tone she used for her clients. It was incredibly gentle, loving, and reassuring. As the soothing binaural beats washed over her, the voice called her a good girl and told her that she was finally allowed to let go. It whispered that she didn’t have to be the strong, capable Mommy all the time; that she deserved to be small and helpless, too. She pressed play, let out a long, contented sigh around her pacifier, and felt her own conscious mind begin to slip away into the dark. She drifted off to sleep—peaceful, perfectly dry, and absolutely in control. Because the truth was, even mommies need a diaper and a chance to let go sometimes. And somewhere out there in the city, hundreds of her brand-new babies were learning that exact same lesson—the hard, warm, thoroughly messy way. Not because they had been tricked into it anymore, but because they had finally learned to love their own, messy reality. The lesson was complete. The cycle was closed. Everyone was exactly where they were always meant to be.

My work week just dragged on and on and on, like it would never end. But, finally, Friday was here and I was on my way home and ready for a weeks vacation. I was both extremely excited and nervous at the same time. This would be the first time ever trying something like this. An ABDL camp that offers just about everything someone could want. I stopped and gassed up my truck, grabbed a few bags of ice and headed home. I got home and backed up to my camper, put the truck in park and ran into the house and put on a Crinklz Astronaut diaper. I put some shorts on and headed back outside to get everything ready. I grabbed my RTIC cooler out of the shed and put it into the back of my pickup and then loaded the ice into it. Back into the house and I cracked open a beer and chugged it down. At the same time, I wet my diaper. It felt soo good. I went down the basement and grabbed a couple cases of beer out of the spare fridge and carried them outside and put them into the cooler. Back down to the basement and grabbed two more cases of beer and hauled them out to the cooler. One more trip for the last case of beer. Also grabbed a couple jars of shine and got everything loaded in the cooler. Then, back down the basement, I grabbed two packs of Rearz Daydreamer disposable diapers, two packs of ABU Tiny Tails disposable diapers and a package of Crinklz Astronaut diapers. I put them in a big cardboard box and hauled them out to the truck. Plenty of diapers, way more than I should need for a week at camp. The camp offers some skeet shooting and has a rifle range, so I grabbed some guns and plenty of ammo. Also grabbed my skeet vest. Then, I started to pack my suitcase. I went to put some underwear in there then thought, wait a minute, I'm not going to need these this week. I packed a few plastic pants, some socks, a few shirts and a pair of jeans. I also packed my big paddle, my hairbrush paddle and my giant wooden spoon. I started to get a little bit nervous about what my butt cheeks would be enduring this coming week. I cracked open another beer and took a big swig. I got my shave bag and my medicine and loaded that into my suitcase. I almost forgot about booster pads. I tossed a few into my suitcase and loaded it into the backseat of the truck. I paused a second and peed my diaper again. I loaded the ammo and gun cases into the back seat of my truck and locked it up. I took another swig of beer and then went back to the shed and got my fishing rods, tackle box and chairs and loaded them in the back of the truck and closed it up. I finished up my second beer and cracked open a third and took a big swig. Then I put the receiver hitch in my truck. I jumped in the truck and backed up the rest of the way to the camper and got it all hitched up. As I was hooking up the safety chains, I peed again and pooped in my diaper. It felt soo good. I really love the feeling of a messy diaper. I fired the truck back up checked the trailer lights. They were all good. I shut the truck off and locked it back up. All ready to go in the morning. I headed back into the house, grabbed another beer and sat down at the kitchen table and felt the load in my diaper squish all over my butt and up between my legs. I checked my phone for any new emails and then headed outside again. I got the mower out of the shed and mowed the lawn. My diaper felt soooo good walking back and forth with a big load in it and swelling up more and more while adding more pee to it. About half way through the yard, I stopped and grabbed another beer and then finished up the mowing. I put the mower away and headed back to the house. I lit the grill on my way in. My diaper was swelling up pretty big and I was wondering if any of the neighbors noticed my diaper bulge under my shorts. I washed my hands and then threw a few burgers on the grill for dinner. After I ate, and wet myself a few more times, I got an ABU Tiny Tails disposable diaper ready for bed with a thick Rearz booster pad in it. I took my shorts off and jumped into the shower and took my dirty diaper off and got cleaned all up and showered. I got out and dried off and put on my boosed Tiny Tails disposable diaper. I took a shot of Crown Royal, set my alarm for 3 am, wet my diaper and then went to bed early, ready for my big trip to my first time at a diaper camp.

Chapter 1 Even from the couch, I could see it. The bland brown cardboard corner peeking out from my bedroom door. Taunting me. Fuck you too, box. I was so excited to open you, and this is how you repay me? It’s not my fault my stupid roommate - scratch that, soon-to-be-ex-roommate - literally can’t get her shit together. I groan audibly and flop my arms and head over the arm of the couch in a full bout of melodrama. My dark burgundy hair falls over my face, covering my eyes completely. I need a haircut so badly. Add it to the seemingly never ending list of shit I need to do. Is this what being an adult is? Just constantly having a giant list of random bullshit you never seem to get through completely? To be fair, I can’t really peg my first two months after graduating as being super productive. Sure, I’ve had some interviews, I’ve gotten some emails, but it seems like it’s all just kind of been a blur of existential dread, doomscrolling, and blowing through the last of my scholarship money on takeout. Like. A lot of takeout. But I was at least supposed to get the whole damn apartment to myself for the entire damn month of August. Sarah decided to move back to her parents early, even though we had the rent paid through the end of the lease. I let out a sigh, grabbing my hair, slipping the scrunchie off my wrist and quickly using it to tie my hair back in the world’s sloppiest ponytail. I flip onto my back and slide back onto the couch, looking around the mostly barren walls of my darkened living room. The rain patters gently on the window behind me. I should probably turn a stupid light on. We’d lived together for so long that I just sort of forgot just how much Sarah had put into decorating the place. My singular contribution to the space, a small impressionist painting of a tulip I picked up for $3 at the local thrift store, now hung in solitude on the blank white wall opposite me, like a single flower breaking through the ground after a freakishly late April snowstorm. I take out my phone, the pale glow of the screen illuminating my slightly oversized deathcore band t-shirt I got from the last UNMASK THE OBSCENE show I went to. I still don’t understand why my tits look so good in this shirt, but hey, I’ll take it. With a few clicks I pull up my texts from Sarah. I had gotten this two days ago, literally the same day the box was out for delivery: SARAH Hey Erica! Just wanted to let ya know I’m gonna be dropping by the apartment sometime this week. This bitch forgot, like, LITERALLY all of the clothes in her closet. When I first read the text, I couldn’t help but scream into my pillow. This was supposed to be one final hoorah, one glorious month all to myself before I inevitably had to move back home or find a place with two to four just-graduated and equally desperate randos. Then, I replied: ME No worries girly! Just let me know when you’re heading over! No reply for days. No updated ETA. No semblance of communication. Just another limbo to be stuck in, all while that god damn box silently taunted me from my room in all its beige hubris. I begin to type into my phone: BITCH COME GET YOUR SHIT Before mashing the delete button frantically. My chest tightens when I almost hit the send button in my haste. Fuck, those buttons are WAY TOO CLOSE TO EACH OTHER. I pause and try again: Heyyyyyy girly do you know what day you’re gonna swing on over? Just need to know in case I’m busy that day so I can say hi! Have a bunch of interviews and stuff this week so just let me Nope nope nope. Too pushy, too much. I press the delete button again, but only once this time aaaand hold. Less cathartic but much safer. Aaaand again: Hey girl! Any idea on your eta? If ya want I can pack those last few things in your closet for ya and leave it out in the living room! 😃 Noooooope sounds too desperate, she’ll know I’m annoyed. Dammit. Delete delete delete. I stare at the text for another few minutes. Ya know what? She’ll text me when she knows. I’m sure she’s busy. Or, ya know, she’ll pop in randomly after completely forgetting to text me like the fucking space cadet she is. Whatever. Let’s check emails instead. I’m still waiting to hear back from a few places about interviews, and I’d take any kind of news as a distraction right now. But first, maybe some coffee. Light would be cool, too. With another heavy sigh, I sit up for the first time since getting out of bed about an hour ago. I walk to the kitchen, just a few steps away to the right, flipping on the light switch nearby as I continue my micro journey. I let out an obnoxious yawn and polish my right eyelid with my free hand as I open the email app on my phone. My gaze shoots up from my phone for a second, once again jarred by how empty the room in front of me is. At least the french press is mine; I couldn’t imagine how much more of a shitshow I’d be right now without quick and easy access to that bitter, delicious nectar of the gods. I click on the already half-full electric kettle in my coffee corner. I should probably clean that, but hey, I’m boiling the water, so it’s fine, right? I hum a melody from a stupid synthpop song that’s been stuck in my head for days as I grind the beans for my morning cup. When everything is set and brewing I lean against the fridge, smiling at the relief of the cool surface pressing against my back as I turn my attention back to my phone. A few useless social media updates in, I see something that definitely makes my eyes go wide: Interview Confirmation: 08/09, 11:00 AM @ The Daily Grind Oh fuck. I almost completely forgot. The interview for that weird school. Is that seriously tomorrow? I’m definitely losing it. Get your shit together, Erica. I click open the email. —— Hi Erica, Just wanted to confirm our meeting for tomorrow at 11 at the Daily Grind! I’m so excited to meet you and tell you all about Evergreen. From everything I’ve read, you really do seem like the perfect addition to our 2040 class. Warm Regards, Sally Torrence Admissions Director —— I reply faster than I can think. —— Hi Sally! I’ll definitely be there tomorrow! Thanks so much for taking the time to meet with me, I’m so excited to hear more about your program! See you tomorrow at 11! -Erica —— ‘Excited’ might be a bit strong, but I send it anyway. I’d say my feelings are closer to maddening curiosity more than anything, but I definitely want to make a good early impression regardless. The letter from Evergreen showed up in my mailbox two weeks ago. Apparently I had been accepted into their graduate program despite having never applied to the school (or even having heard of it, for that matter). Not that that was entirely out of ordinary in the year of our lord 2038. Most schools have AI running the majority of their admin and admissions work these days, and plenty of schools pre-screened and pre-accepted students based on their academic performance, social media score, and god knows what other information they were able to scrape up from the internet about you. What WAS weird about Evergreen was the overall vagueness of their…well, everything. The letter was vague, other than describing themselves as a transformative liberal arts school. Their website wasn’t much help other than offering some vague mission statements about discovering your passions and even vaguer-yet-glowing alumni testimonies. Their social media presence was suspiciously minimal, and talk about the school from basically any other source was non-existent. I hadn’t given much thought to grad school, but I’m sure I can’t afford Evergreen, and I’m even more sure my parents wouldn’t find the venture “practical”. Still, I love a good mystery, and Mom said I should take any interview I’m offered for practice, even if I know I don’t want whatever they’re offering. The timer beeps on my phone. Coffee’s ready. Thank god. I pour the dark, steaming liquid into my waiting mug, the retro cat meme and the “I can haz coffee” text thoroughly faded from years of dishwasher-related abuse. I wrap both of my hands firmly around the ceramic mug, the heat spreading comfortably through my palms as I lift it gently towards my face. My eyes close as the steam rises from the cup, the warmth rolling past my lips, the vapors tenderly caressing my cheeks. I inhale slowly, deeply. The dark, bold earthiness of the coffee hits first, a sharp undercut of cherry piercing through just after. I hold my breath for a moment, reveling in it. My shoulders drop. Completely involuntary. I let the ceramic rim of the mug rest against my bottom lip for just a moment, tendrils of warmth brushing past my lips, into my waiting mouth. I tip the cup back ever so gently, and in an instant, it’s there…the bold, rich, bitter liquid quickly blooming across my tongue. A euphoric rush emanates deep from within my chest before the liquid even slides down my throat. When it finally does, the warmth follows it down, spreading slowly through my chest, down through my stomach, settling somewhere deep within my core. My whole body softens around it. For one long moment there is nothing on the to-do list. No empty walls. No stacks of pizza boxes. Just this. A tiny moan escapes me. It makes me blush for a moment before I remember that no one else is here. Fuck, I love coffee. My phone gives a soft ding. A random social media ad that pulls me back to reality. I sigh and take a second sip of coffee. Still amazingly warming, but nothing hits like that first sip of the morning. Back to emails. I scroll by a few ads that should’ve probably been caught by the spam filter before coming across another subject line that makes my heart race. —— LFB Logistics - Final Interview Hello Erica, I’m pleased to inform you that you’ve officially been selected to move on to our final interview screening with our HR team. Congratulations. Please let us know when you are available on either 08/11, 08/13, 08/14, or 8/28 between the hours of 1 PM and 3:45 PM and we can schedule our meeting. Thank you and we hope to hear back from you soon. Margaret Smith Human Relations Specialist LFB Logistics —— Well shit. I should be excited. Ecstatic, even. If I’m onto the final interview with HR, it basically means I got the job. And only two months out of school. Not bad, Erica, not bad. Of course, it’d be working a mind-numbing HR assistant position at a logistics company. I’m pretty good at feigning excitement, but pretending to be deeply passionate about logistics and shipping during my first interview was definitely a performance that should’ve landed me an Oscar nomination. I look up and stare blankly at my kitchen ceiling as I continue to drink my coffee. A dust bunny desperately clings to the edge of the rotating ceiling fan, spinning around and around. It’s oddly calming. I should text Mom about this, maybe she can be excited enough for the both of us. ME Hey Mom! Guess who just got a final interview offer for the HR position at the logistics company?! 🥳🥳🥳 I hesitate for a moment before pressing send. Too much? Nah, probably not for Mom. I press down on the little blue arrow. I still have no idea when Sarah’s dropping by, but I should probably clean up a little for whenever she does decide to. I’m in the middle of breaking down the stack of pizza boxes when I hear a telltale ding on my phone again. Mom !!! That’s great to hear, jellybean!! I’m so proud of you! I knew you could do it! See, my interview advice worked out after all, didn’t it? 🥰 I bite the right side of my lip, habitually tonguing at the small hole where my lip ring used to be. Fuck, it’s been weeks since I took it out and that’s still so jarring. I wonder how long it’ll take for me to shake the presence of my phantom jewelry. I feel a dark pit in my chest, small but deep. ME Yessssss you’re the best, Madre. Thanks again so much for everything ❤️❤️ And I should be grateful. Two months out of college with a big girl job to show for it. No way I'd have pulled that off if my parents hadn't convinced me to switch majors junior year. I could always just pursue my creative writing as a hobby, right? Maybe finally post those…very specific interest short stories someday soon? I shudder at the thought. I take my last swig of coffee before piling my mug in with the rest of the dirty dishes in the sink. Not quite a mountain yet, but certainly a molehill. I’ll take care of that soon. For now, back to some good old-fashioned couch rot, albeit with slightly better lighting. Before I close my email app to resume doom scrolling, I scroll back up for a moment to the interview confirmation from Evergreen. Somewhere deep within me, a little spark of hope flickers. A tiny fire on the beach, warming me as I look out at a grey horizon that promises…nothing. No storms. No shipwrecks. No adventure. Just safe, simple nothing. The box in my room catches the corner of my eye once again. Wait, that reminds me…I think there’s a new chapter up of the book I’m currently obsessed with. I form a tiny smile without even realizing it, my heart fluttering just a beat as I close out of my emails and go to my browser, my muscle memory typing in the url for the boards before my brain can even catch up. I pause for a second, looking to the left towards my front door. I still have no idea when Sarah will be back. I roll my eyes to no one and jump up from the couch, scratching the back of my head as I make my way towards my bedroom. I give a nasty side-eye to the box as I quickly shut the door behind me. I pause again, then swiftly lock it for good measure. I roll onto my bed, pushing the messy, unmade covers away to give myself some room. I bring my phone closer to my face, my fingers on autopilot, navigating to the exact thread where the newest chapter of the story lives. My smile widens just a bit as I see the NEW POST flag from the story directory, and I click in frantically. The page loads with the story and chapter title in large, bold font: Back to Daycare, Back to Diapers: An Adult Forced Regression Tale Chapter 17: A Wet and Restless Naptime I blush deeply. So stupid. But it’s so fucking hot that I can easily excuse the lack of subtlety. The hairs raise on the back of my neck as I begin the first few lines of the story, biting at my lip ring…no, at the quickly-healing hole where it used to be. Whatever. I feel myself squirming, a soft rustling audible as the nylon leggings covering both of my thighs collide and slowly drag against each other. My right hand reaches for the drawer of my nightstand, pulling it open and grabbing onto the wand contained within without ever needing to glance away from the words on my screen. I’m transfixed. Lost. Hungry. I slowly, gently set my wand down, just to the right of my right thigh, snuggling right up against my nylons. Not needed yet. Not quite yet. But there, waiting patiently. The box catches my periphery once again. It steals my attention away for a moment…from this angle, in the soft glow of the dimmed lamplight, it seems…softer, brighter…almost inviting. This time, it’s not taunting me. No, it’s calling. I roll onto my stomach, slowly inching my way towards the edge of the bed, the words of the story still fresh in my memory. My left hand drifts silently, slowly to my leggings…I can feel the slickness between my legs as I change positions. I gasp lightly as my hand finally finds its destination, the area between my legs warming my hand even through the nylon…through the thin cotton underneath that. My face reaches the end of the bed. The box is easily within reach. I could grab it right now, tear it open, finally indulge in what’s inside, what’s calling me…what’s been calling me for so, so long. I’m finally alone, I can finally… I hear the wind howl outside. It jars me out of my lustful haze for just a moment, my whole body tensing. But it’s enough to bring me back to reality. Sarah could still walk through that front door at any moment. I glance up at my locked bedroom door. This is fucking stupid. Who cares if she comes back now? That’s what bedroom doors are for. That’s what locks are for… No, but she’ll know I’m home. She’ll want to say hi. The wand I could hide in a second’s notice. What’s in the box? Once it’s wrapped me in its embrace? An image flashes of the hypothetical crisis scenario…a door slamming, the soft, bubbly tone in Sarah’s voice announcing she’s home, slow, menacing clicks of her shoes against the wooden floor. Closer. Closer. My whole body goes rigid. Sweat prickles on my lower back. I roll back to the center of the bed. Close my eyes. Take a few deep breaths. In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. Hold for four. I take a look at my phone again. At least for now I can escape back into the story. Fantasize about what might be. What could be. Lose myself in the escape of another world. I glance back to the box for just another moment. Soon. Someday. Soon. Chapter 2 I pause for a moment in front of the coffee shop window. The weather’s definitely much nicer today, and the sun’s full shine has turned the window into a perfect full-length mirror. I use the opportunity to quadruple check my face, my makeup, my hair, my outfit. My go-to interview outfit definitely kills it: a posh, light blue Marco Jacobi blouse, simple black pencil skirt, even simpler short black heels. Understated makeup with some slightly brighter red lipstick to make everything pop, hair pulled back in a high ponytail. I look closer at the window and pull back a handful of tiny flyaways. I really need a haircut. Satisfied as I’ll ever be, I walk to the front door. The familiar scent of brewing coffee and pine finish hits me like a warm, emotional truck. I’ve spent a lot of time at The Daily Grind over my four years at school here. Study sessions, writing marathons, relaxing with friends, extremely hit-and-miss open mics, equally mixed-measure first dates, or just a place for some peace and quiet every now and again. This place has been my safe haven for almost a half decade, and it suddenly hits me that this may be one of the last times I ever step through its doors. The sudden weight on my chest is lifted when Mark waves to me from behind the counter. He’s a Computer Science major who’s been working here for the past year or so, and one of maybe three employees who stay at campus over the summer to keep working. His shaggy brown hair and thick-rimmed glasses perfectly highlight his chiseled jawline. It’s absurd how well he pulls off the stupid-hot-indie-sleaze-nerd aesthetic. “Yooooo Erica! How’s your final summer going? You want your usual?” I smile warmly and giggle like a schoolgirl. I’m so fucking embarrassing. “Not today, Mark,” I respond, not entirely sure if my makeup is covering up my lightly flushing cheeks. “Well, not yet anyway. I’m actually here to meet someone for a grad-school interview.” “Ohhhhhh right on right on, that must be the business lady over in the corner,” he says to me with an equally warm smile spreading across his face. “That’s sick, homie. You’re totally gonna crush it, you got thiiiiis.” He holds his fist out to me for a bump. Such a fucking dork. I can’t leave him hanging, of course. “Thanks, dude,” I say, gently fisting him. Jesus Christ, Erica. Mind out of the gutter. What the fuck is wrong with you? I give a small wave and a smile over to Sally as I approach her from across the room. My heart is racing, my chest is tight. Shit, I should’ve probably checked my hair in the mirror again. Dammit, I need a haircut. Is this skirt too long? Fuck. She gets up from her seat in a way that’s calm and graceful. She’s strikingly beautiful. Her green eyes are gentle with the slightest hint of stress lines surrounding them, practically the only hint that she’s somewhere past fifty. She stands at least four inches above me, her own straight, golden blonde hair fixed up in a ponytail rather similar to mine, an ornate clip with subtle pearl inlays holding it back. Her blazer, blouse, and pants are all perfectly tailored. Is everyone extra hot today, or am I still just extra wound up from last night? Focus, you dumb bitch. “Hi Sally! It’s so nice to finally meet you in person,” I begin, extending my hand out to shake hers. “Thank you again so so much for coming out to meet me. I know it’s a bit of a drive from Westchester to New Paltz, I really appreciate you.” She grabs my hand with both of hers for a moment, gentle but firm. I wasn’t exactly expecting the politician handshake from her, but I do my best not to be visibly jarred from it. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Fairport. It’s so great to meet you.” She pulls away slowly and gestures for me to sit in the booth. I gladly comply as she continues. “And please, this is a stone’s throw away for me, and these interviews might be my favorite part of my job. I’ve traveled MUCH farther to meet prospective new students, which isn’t so bad considering we only accept a small handful each year.” I smile, doing my best to hide my surprise. Is Evergreen really that exclusive? If so, what on god’s green earth do they want with me? My interest is piqued even more. “But before we really dive in, let’s get something ordered, shall we? I know this is one of your regular haunts…what are some of your favorites here?” I give a gentle, measured laugh. Did I mention that to her in one of my emails? I must have, why else would she have picked this place? “Absolutely!” I answer. “Everyone absolutely looooves the Dubai latte, and this is THE number one breakfast sandwich in town, hands down.” Sally’s eyes soften a bit, her smile widening just a smidge. “I appreciate the information, Erica, but that’s not what I asked. I asked what YOUR favorites are.” I let out a small laugh that I’m hoping doesn’t read as nervous. Oh my god, did I seriously just blow the first question of the interview before the ACTUAL interview even started?! I look back briefly into Sally’s striking eyes. There’s a softness there that puts me at ease. She’s clearly not annoyed or upset. It’s fine, just breathe. “That’s fair! So sorry, force of habit. I’ve brought a lot of people here over the years,” I say, pausing for a moment in feigned contemplation despite having a clear answer. “I would saaaay the Apple Bacon Brie Panini is the winner for me. It’s dressed with local honey and is absolutely to die for.” “As for drinks, I always get the house blend. This place and that blend are what turned me into the coffee snob I am today.” Sally’s eyes and smile perk up again at my answer. “Those both sound absolutely delightful,” she says as she looks just behind me, nodding lightly. I tilt my head just a tad in confusion as I twist my body to see what Sally is glancing at. I jump slightly when I realize that Mark is standing directly behind me, probably waiting for a lull to take our order like the over-polite dork he is. I laugh, my heart still racing. “Dude! Are you trying to kill me in front of this nice lady?” He returns a smile and laughs nervously, a hint of concern under his jolly demeanor. “So sorry about that! So sorry! Just wanted to see if you two were ready to order.” “No need to apologize, young man,” Sally says in her same warm and collected tone. “We’ll just have two of the Apple Bacon Brie Paninis and two house blends, if you’ll be so kind.” Mark perks back up. “Sure thing! I’ll get that right out for you two!” He shoots me a quick glance and a smile before doing a full 180 spin and speed walking back to his counter. “Sorry about that,” I say, turning back to Sally. “Just a little jumpy before I have my coffee, oddly enough.” “That’s quite alright dear, I’m sure I would have been just as startled if I were in your shoes,” she chuckles sympathetically. “Now, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, Erica? The ten-thousand foot view of Miss Erica Fairport, if you will.” I tilt my head playfully, looking up and tapping my right index finger to my cheek, again in performed contemplation. The classic interview opener, the answer to which I’ve got absolutely nailed down to a science in these past couple of months. “Well…I’m a recent graduate from New Paltz University with a degree in Business Administration, concentration in organizational management. I really gravitated toward the operations side of things while studying. I love finding ways to make systems run smoother, especially the people side of systems. I was treasurer of two student orgs, including the university’s radio station and our Student Entertainment Services, which taught me a ton about balancing stakeholder needs. I also did a summer internship in vendor relations that really confirmed I wanted to work somewhere at the intersection of logistics and people. People have always described me as reliable, motivated, and easy to work with!” Nailed it. Hats off again to Gustav for that one…exceptionally bland with all of the right corporate bullshit buzzwords peppered throughout with perfect precision. Such a good little boring-ass AI agent, Gustav, yes you are! Sally has leaned herself ever so slightly into the table, her right elbow resting in front of her, her index and middle finger raised to her chin and covering a small portion of her mouth. I can see her soft smile beyond her hand as she periodically nods along to my generic personal sales pitch. “Very impressive indeed, Miss Fairport. And what about outside of your studies and extracurriculars? What is it that you love to do in your free time?” This one I’m a little thrown off by. Not that I haven’t heard the question before in other interviews, but when I do, it tends to fall on the back end of the meeting. It’s not just that, though…when I get this question from an interviewer, it’s usually painfully disingenuous, like they just threw it in there when the person asked ChatBot how to sound less like a ChatBot when interviewing a potential candidate. No…something in Sally’s tone and demeanor makes her seem genuinely interested in what makes me tick beyond what’s on my resume. Mark shows up perfectly on cue, quickly dropping off two small mugs of the house blend before smiling and sauntering back off to help other customers. I smile widely, closing my eyes as I lean over to take a slow, deep inhale of the steaming cup in front of me. My entire chest relaxes, losing myself for a moment before snapping back to the meeting at hand. “Well, as you can see, I’m a huge coffee enthusiast, like I mentioned before,” I say, twirling my ponytail for a moment before catching myself, opting to reach for my mug instead. I take the cup and lift it slowly to my lips, taking a small sip. God yes, that’s so good. I’m really going to miss this place. “I also love live music, and just all sorts of music in general, hence why I decided to join the radio station and SES. We’re pretty lucky to get a good number of acts passing through for being such a small college town kind of in the middle of nowhere…at one point I was going to at least one show a week, and it was almost always the highlight of my week.” “Beyond that, I’m an EXTREMELY avid reader and a slightly less avid writer,” I say with a small laugh. “If I have any sort of free time, it’s almost always spent reading something new, and I’ll read just about anything…fiction, non-fiction, horror, biographies, fantasy, history, romance…” I pause for a moment and catch myself, clearing my throat to cover the lull. Almost a little too honest there. Sally tilts her head to me, gazing at me with a spark of tenderness as she clasps her hands together, resting them gently on her right cheekbone. “That’s right, I actually saw on your transcript that you were originally a creative writing major before changing courses in your junior year,” she says, causing me to swallow involuntarily, her words cutting a bit deeper than I thought they might. “Can you tell me why the switch? It sounds like you’re still writing in your free time, what made you decide not to pursue that passion as a career?” I force a smile to cover the lightly billowing sorrow in the pit of my stomach. I really thought that would’ve stopped hurting so much two years later, especially since it hasn’t been an uncommon question in interviews. I’ve got another well practiced answer for this one. “Well, it was certainly a hard decision. I do love writing, but the tough reality of today’s world is that it’s really hard to make a living on art alone. Not only that, but just because I don’t make a career out of my writing doesn’t mean I can’t still enjoy it in my spare time.” And now for the killer closer. “Passions and professions can exist in their own worlds simultaneously in a way that doesn’t diminish the importance of either.” The best line I’ve written in two years, and it’s about me quitting. I feel my hand drift towards my ponytail again but catch myself, redirecting again to my mug of coffee still steaming on the table. I take another small sip through my feigned contentment. Sally looks up from her own mug, which she’s just taken a sip from, to meet my gaze. “That’s a very…measured take, Miss Fairport.” Her tone is kind, sympathetic…so much so that it takes me a second to realize she saw right through my bullshit answer. That’s a first…but for some reason, that doesn’t cause me to panic, either. “But let me ask you this,” she continues. “In an absolutely perfect world, a world where you could live comfortably no matter what you chose to do, what would you pursue a career in?” I pause for quite some time, but not as part of some contemplative performance. I know what my answer is, but is that the answer she wants to hear? Wait. No. She wouldn’t have even asked it, especially not like that, if she didn’t want an honest answer. Plus, what do I have to lose in telling her the truth? “I would write,” I answer her decisively. “I’ve always been drawn to writing fiction, mostly short stories…I would write every day if I had the time and energy. I never got sick of it, even in those first two years of school, even when I had to constantly write about things I could care less about. Storytelling has always just been something that’s come naturally to me, even as a little kid, and my love for it has never waned for a second.” My chest tightens for a moment when I realize how much I overshared in the moment. That was definitely too much, right? Luckily, I see Sally’s demeanor brighten almost immediately at my answer. My whole body relaxes in a wave of relief. “I could tell that about you from your writing alone,” she tells me. “Your transcript is certainly impressive, Miss Fairport, but I have to say, I’m much more impressed with the few pieces I’ve been able to pull by you. Your voice is unique, your prose is colorful without being pretentious…you have a real talent that I would hate to see you squander.” My cheeks flush hot before I even register why, and I have to break her gaze, a stupid smile spreading across my face that I couldn’t fight down if I tried. I find myself stroking my ponytail with alternating hands, slowly, gently. Something warm and unfamiliar blooms just under my sternum. I’m not amazing at taking compliments, and that's the nicest thing anyone has said about me in…god, years. “That’s the whole reason I’m here, Erica,” she continues, warmth glowing from her voice. “We see your passion, your talent, your drive shining through even as you’re trying to dim it from the world. It’s remarkable, honestly, how much effort you put into hiding the things you love most.” She takes a slow sip of her coffee, completely unhurried. For some reason, my heart flutters. “In my experience, people don’t abandon their passions. They just… relocate them. Push them somewhere private, somewhere safe, visit them in secret…and then they spend an enormous amount of energy holding that door shut. Energy that could have gone into the passion itself…into finding their whole, authentic selves.” She sets her coffee down gracefully. “Evergreen exists for exactly that. We find remarkable women who have learned to want things quietly, and we give them a place where they don’t have to. Where the answer to ‘What do you actually want?’ isn’t a performance. Where indulging the things that make you feel most yourself isn’t something you schedule around anyone else’s comfort.” She smiles at me, her expression soft and inviting. “Our students spend their whole lives asking permission, Erica. We simply stop making them ask.” Something in her words resonates through every part of me. My head feels light and airy. A warm glow starts in my chest before spreading lower…lower still. My posture relaxes just a touch, allowing me to sink deeper into the padded seat of the booth. That was…one hell of a sales pitch. Damn she’s good. I let out a small laugh as I grab onto my mug again, straightening myself up just a tad as I do so. “I won’t lie, that sounds like an absolute dream. But…if I’m being honest, I have no idea how I’d be able to afford grad school.” I break my gaze again, looking down at the table as I bring myself back down to reality. “I was lucky enough to get a partial scholarship for my undergrad, but the math barely worked out for the loans I had to get to cover the rest. Your program sounds amazing, and what I’ve seen of your campus looks beautiful, but I can’t imagine it costs less than a state school…” “Oh, my apologies, I really should have led with this,” Sally politely interrupts me. “What we're offering you is the same thing we offer each of the small handful of students we accept every year: tuition, room, board, and supplies all covered in full.” My brain stutters, my eyes going wide. What? Wait, is she serious right now? Nothing in her expression or tone says otherwise. Holy shit, am I dreaming? The awkward pause caused by my shock is mercifully interrupted by the light clatter of two plates hitting our table. I look up at Mark, who’s staring at me with a shit-eating grin. I can’t help but chuckle at him in spite of everything. “Thanks babe, you’re the best,” I say, my tone and posture relaxing for the moment. “Sure thing. Hope you ladies enjoy!” He gives me a sly wink and strides away. Thankfully Sally takes a bite of her sandwich quickly, breaking the dead air before I’m able to collect my thoughts. “Mmm, my goodness, this is delicious,” Sally says in a bout of genuine delight. “See? I’m so glad I got this instead of the breakfast sandwich. You have great taste, Erica. You should really trust your instincts more often.” I can’t help but blush and break her gaze again, though I’m able to recover a bit quicker from the praise this time. “I really appreciate that. It really is so good, right?” I take a bite of my own sandwich, the mix of sweet, tart, and savory flavors creating a symphony in my mouth. I can’t help but roll my eyes back for just a moment. “And I really appreciate the offer,” I continue, setting my sandwich back on the plate. “It’s…EXTREMELY generous. But I have to ask…why me? I know you said you loved my work, but I mean, come on…there have to be so many other candidates out there that are more talented than me, have a more impressive record than me, who actually finished their full undergrad in writing, who actually APPLIED to your school in the first place…why me? Specifically, why seek ME out?” Sally pauses for a moment, darting her eyes past my shoulder, then to the other corners of the room, as if quickly scanning the perimeter of the cafe. She folds her hands in front of her on the table, retaining her warm smile, but I can sense her expression tightening just a bit. “Well, while you certainly shouldn’t downplay your creative or academic achievements, I understand your skepticism. In honesty, neither of those pieces paints the full picture of the candidates we seek out for admission into Evergreen.” Sally leans in just a touch closer as she continues, her voice brought down just a decibel or so. “We certainly wouldn’t have reached out if we didn’t find you academically excellent, Erica, but beyond that, all of our students share another common thread. One a bit more…personal in nature, regarding a specific set of shared interests…” I tilt my head, confusion spreading visibly across my face. Wait, she couldn’t mean… But she breaks the silence before I can finish my thought, the expression on my face clearly prompting her to clarify. “Erica, dear…all of our students are ABDL.” Chapter 3 Wait. What? Did she just say…what the fuck?! My eyes go wide. The edges of my vision go dark. A soft hum begins to ring in my ears. Louder. Louder. WHAT THE FUCK. I feel my whole body tense. My chest tightens. Impossibly heavy. Sinking. It’s not possible. I’ve never told ANYONE. Never posted a single thing online. Not even anonymously. “How…how could you…” Breathe, Erica. You can’t lose it here. Not where everyone can see you. Keep it together. BREATHE. I try to re-focus on the woman across the table from me. I can see Sally’s expression has softened again. Her eyes are full of concern, but her smile is still soft…sympathetic, reassuring. She slowly moves her right hand to the middle of the table, turning it upwards, opening her palm in an inviting manner. “It’s ok, dear. Just take a moment. Take a few moments, if you need. This part is never easy.” Her tone is soothing, patient, unhurried. I feel myself reaching out to grab her waiting hand. Wait, what the fuck? I can’t trust her! How does she… But it’s too late. I’m already gripping her hand with mine, and probably a little too tightly. A wave of relief washes over my body. Warmth blooms slowly up my arm from where I’m grabbing her hand. My breath slows. My vision clears. Wait, what? Why is this helping? This shouldn’t be helping. I take a moment to collect myself again, staring at my hand in disbelief. I bite at my lip ring…FUCK, no, it’s gone, remember? What the fuck am I doing? I calmly, slowly relax my grip, pulling my hand back, nervously smoothing out my skirt underneath the table. Is there any point in denying it? I mean, I still don’t know how Evergreen could know, but her confidence in the information, her lack of judgement in the words, her effortless, calm, comforting demeanor… “I…I don’t understand,” I’m finally able to begin. “How…how could you possibly know something like that?” Sally straightens her posture, taking another calm, slow sip from her mug. “For what it’s worth, the people in Evergreen’s admissions department are most likely the only individuals on the planet that DO know this about you, and I can assure you that the entire department is run by sympathetic and like-minded individuals, if you understand my meaning…” She gives me a gentle smile and wink as she sets her mug back down. “As you may know, accredited universities have access to each other's full academic records, data, and networks. That’s exactly how most universities are able to pre-select candidates for admissions these days: by using modern AI tools to scan this integrated higher education network. This not only looks into direct online activity, but for consistent patterns of network activity tied to individual students. Someone who visits certain websites on a regular basis is flagged by our system. We then trace the activity to a student’s records, and if that student’s academic credentials match our standards, they’re sent to be reviewed manually by our admissions department.” My anxiety quickly starts turning to anger. I knew we were living in a post-privacy age, but for fuck’s sake, this is insane! This feels like such a violation…and aren’t there supposed to be laws to prevent this kind of thing?! “Woah woah woah,” I interrupt, doing my best to stay somewhat collected despite the hot pit that’s boiling in my stomach. “Doesn’t that kind of thing violate the Digital Information Privacy Act? I thought employers and schools weren’t able to collect or store digital information from potential candidates...shouldn’t that have been caught before your school’s AI infrastructure was approved?” I expect Sally to be taken aback, but instead I get another calm smile from her, almost as if she’s…impressed? “I’m glad to see you’re fairly well informed on your digital rights. That’s a very important trait to hold in this day and age.” She pauses to take a small bite of her sandwich again, clearly unbothered by my line of questioning. “For the most part, you’re correct, but there is a caveat to those laws…you see, Evergreen and other schools are not allowed to collect or use any information on applicants for the purpose of EXCLUDING them from our programs.” She sets her sandwich down once more, folding her hands over each other on the table in front of her. “However, the law doesn’t prevent us from using these tools to filter information on potential students that we would attribute as being POSITIVE. That’s why I said no other school should have this information about you. To the best of our knowledge, we’re the only university on the continent that actively seeks out ABDL students as part of our criteria for admissions.” God dammit. There’s always a loophole. Privacy really IS an illusion nowadays, isn’t it? Still, I’m almost impressed at the legal ninjitsu of it all. But I also hate the fact that I’m impressed. “On top of that,” Sally continues, “I can assure you we have some of the strongest privacy protections for our students of any university in the country. The NDAs covering the identities of our students, applicants, and staff are ironclad. Not only that, but the only individuals with access to that information are those who share your interests.” So anyone trying to leak info would be sued into oblivion AND outed at the same time. Again, I’m annoyed at how much sense that makes. “It’s also the reason there’s very little information about the school online. We don’t allow any information to be shared about the…peculiarities of our academic program. Not by students, not by staff, ESPECIALLY not by any sort of third party.” Sally leans in closer once again. Despite everything, I can’t help but find her presence calming…disarmingly so. She really is amazing at her job. “Look, I completely understand your skepticism,” she continues, “I’ve done hundreds of these interviews, and your reaction is both justified and normal. If you choose not to attend, we won’t be offended in any way, and beyond the two of us, no one will ever know you sat in this booth for this particular interview for this particular school. But Erica, I promise you that the students that do attend our school find themselves living an experience most never thought possible. Our mission is to bring together like-minded individuals who are truly the best at what they do. We painstakingly cater our program to each and every student so that they can truly bring out the best version of themselves; not just academically and professionally, but personally, as well. To unlock and explore all aspects of their true, authentic selves. And I truly believe that Evergreen could do that for you, Erica. Aren’t you exhausted by trying to be the person everyone else wants you to be? Evergreen sees what an amazing writer and person you could be if you simply opened yourself up fully…not just to the world, but to yourself.” It takes a moment for Sally’s words to really sink in. She seems…genuine, unintimidating. But this is so fucked. How could I even be considering this? What the hell is wrong with me? I take another sip from my coffee, my mind racing too quickly to even register the motion or the flavor. I look back up to Sally. “So…what exactly is so unique about your program?” I ask. “You keep mentioning that it caters very specifically to each student but…what does that mean, exactly?” “That…is a question best answered in a more private setting…” Sally replies, eyes glancing around the room once again. I glance back, noticing a handful of newcomers to the cafe. Point taken. “That being said, I certainly don’t expect any kind of decision or answer from you today, and I’m sure you have many, many more questions.” Sally picks up the napkin next to her, gently brushing the sides of her lips before gracefully reaching down to her purse in the seat beside her. She reaches halfway across the table, a sleek black business card in hand adorned with fine gold inlaid lettering. “So please, if you decide you’d like any more information before making your decision, don’t hesitate to call me, day or night.” My hand twitches. I hesitate for just half a second. Then I reach out and accept the card from her. She smiles at me, eyes warmer, more inviting than ever. She stands from the booth, purse on her arm. “I do have to run now, but I want to thank you again for coming out to meet me, for hearing me out…I understand that this is a lot to process. I’ve already taken care of the bill, so take all the time you need here, and all the time you need to reach back out.” Sally pauses as she passes next to me. Just for a moment. Then her hand rests gently on my shoulder. She meets my gaze. One final smile. “I really hope to hear from you soon, Erica. I really do think you would be an amazing addition to Evergreen.” With that, I smile back at her. I try to thank her for her time, but I’m unable to form words. She squeezes my shoulder for just a moment, and then she walks away from me. I don’t even look back. My eyes are just glued to the business card. My mind is blank, sparring thoughts racing at equal speed and volume, clashing in the center of my mind to create a wall of indistinguishable white noise. Fuck. ________________ My head is spinning on my drive home from the cafe. I can’t help but glance over at Sally’s business card, jutting clumsily out of the side pocket of my purse on the passenger’s seat beside me. My thoughts have slowed, quieted a bit, but that’s almost worse. Now I’m just cycling through thoughts, emotions, fears, hypotheticals…all at a breakneck pace, one after the other. I can’t believe someone found out. I’ve never told anyone. Not partners, not best friends, not random individuals online…hell, I’ve never even posted a comment on any of the boards I frequent. I’ve CERTAINLY never posted any of the stories I’ve written on the subject. Those are all safely tucked away in my… Wait. Fuck. Wouldn’t Evergreen have access to my cloud drive, too? Was Sally referring to my god-awful private smut when she was talking about some of my work?! My stomach clenches. I feel like I’m gonna puke. I grip my steering wheel in anger, my knuckles turning white. I want to fucking scream. I quickly click over to a metalcore playlist on my car’s center console. I turn the volume up way too loud. The wall of distorted, downtuned guitars crashes over me like a wave. I breathe deeply. They can say whatever bullshit sales pitch they want, try to convince me they’re just like me. Fuck them. How do they not understand how deeply unsettling it is to have your privacy violated like that? Your deepest secrets. This is my fucking nightmare. I pull hastily into the parking spot next to my apartment complex. I close my eyes, letting the heavy music wash over me. Pure, cathartic rage. I glance at the business card again. A fresh image of Sally at the cafe table flashes in my mind. Even in the memory, I notice it again. Sally’s demeanor. Her expression. Her eyes. It gives me pause. My brain has obviously played out an endless number of anxiety-driven nightmare loops about finally being outed, about someone finding out my deepest secret. A search bar auto-populating to something wildly inappropriate, my phone screen being frozen on a board as someone looks over my shoulder, an audio file I was just listening to auto-playing in class with the volume on full blast… But never in my near-infinite iterations of the worst case scenario could I have imagined a reaction like Sally’s. Calming. Sweet. Sympathetic. So…accepting. I let out a single, full sob. I jolt upright. Music still blaring in my car. I spin my head around, glancing in every direction. Thank god. No one saw me break down like that. I feel like I’m barely holding it together as I walk back to my apartment. I take out my phone quickly for a distraction. I see a notification in my texts, realizing just now that I haven’t looked at my phone since before the interview. I open the text in an anxious haste. SARAH Hey girly! Just stopped by the apartment for that stuff I was talking about. So sorry I missed you, babe! Text and let me know how you’re doing, let’s get lunch or something soon ❤️ Even in my current state, I can’t help but let out a huge sigh of relief. One less thing to worry about. I feel my shoulders drop, like a weight’s been lifted from my whole body. Fucking finally. I unlock my front door and step through. I immediately catch a small shimmer in my periphery, turning my head to spot Sarah’s keys sprawled lazily on the small end table we…no, I, have set up right next to the shoe rack. I inhale deeply. Serenity. Calm. For just a little while, it’s all mine. I spin around dramatically as I slam my front door, quickly undoing the buttons on my blouse. I throw the top onto my dining room table on the way into my living room. I drop my purse on my coffee table as I let myself fall back onto my couch, quickly unzipping my skirt and letting it fall unceremoniously into a heap on my floor. I catch a glimpse of Sally’s business card sticking out of my purse. My mind starts to race again. Nope, fuck that. For the next five minutes, I’m not doing or thinking a god damn thing. I lie there, staring at my blank white ceiling. I breathe. I take it in. And then, for the next little while, I do just that: not a single god damn thing. I just lie there on my couch in my underwear, existing for the sake of existing. Unfortunately, my zen is broken by a sound emanating from my purse. Is that…the imperial march? Oh shit, right. I quickly reach over to my purse and pull my phone out. A reminder flashes across the screen from an alarm I set yesterday: SEND FINAL INTERVIEW CONFIRMATION LFB I stare at it for a second as the ominous horns continue to play, my phone vibrating rhythmically in my hand. I laugh embarrassingly loudly at my own stupid joke. Then I cancel the alarm, putting my phone on my chest as I settle back into the couch. I close my eyes. I see that same metaphorical beach in my mind. The same grey, endless horizon. The bland, metallic hull of SS LFB sailing slowly towards me. A small pit of existential dread forms in my stomach once again. But then, I see it. A small break in the clouds, bright blue sky breaking through off in the distance. A full fucking ride to an exclusive grad school. A chance to pursue the thing I ACTUALLY want to do with my life. I would have to be stupid to turn that down for some dumpster fire corporate gig, right? Is Evergreen sketchy? Does my privacy still feel undeniably violated? Is the prospect of exploring that hidden part of me absolutely fucking terrifying? Yes, yes, and oh god yes. I exhale dramatically, glancing back over to my purse, to the business card sticking out of it. Another image of Sally’s face flashes in my mind. Those striking, inviting, soft eyes. Even the memory sends a wave of calm through my body. That’s when I spot it again: past my purse, peeking out of the corner of my bedroom door. The box. My heart flutters, pounds. I feel my breath going shallow. I swallow involuntarily as the hairs on my arms rise. I jump up from the couch without giving it a second thought, grabbing my purse from the coffee table as I do so, phone in my other hand as I make my way to my bedroom, more and more of the box revealing itself as I take each step. As I step through the door frame, my hand gravitates towards the handle before I catch myself. No need to shut the door behind me. No need. I place my phone and purse onto my nightstand before lowering myself to my knees, kneeling in front of the box. This is the closest I’ve been to it since I picked it up from my porch and threw it in my room in a bout of frustration. I gently graze the cardboard with the tips of my fingers, a quiet rustling forming as I run them across the top, then down across the side. I’m on auto-pilot at this point. I dig my index fingernail into the tape on the side, tearing through it with ease as I begin to drag my hand in the opposite direction, cutting a small slit in the tape over and across. The closer half of the box’s top pops gently open as I slit the last bit of tape holding it shut. The back half quickly follows suit. I can already see the transparent plastic handle of the contents poking out from the mess of brown paper that obscures the rest. I reach for the handle slowly, gripping it, pulling gently. The paper rustles loudly as it falls to the side of the bag and back into the box. My breath grows shallower still. My heart beats faster. I grab the side of the plastic packaging with my free hand, quiet and smooth against my palm. I let my other hand fall to the opposite side of the package. I’m staring directly at the bag’s label, just inches from my face. A brownish-green backdrop, an illustrated rendering of the package’s contents gazing directly back at me. Just above it, words, in the same shade of bright white as the illustration: SUNKISS MASTERPIECE I shudder involuntarily as my eyes move down the package. A small, transparent window in the package reveals the contents within. Clean, silky-white plastic. My hands move quickly to the top of the package, the serrated top tearing with ease. My right hand jolts to reach in before pausing for a beat. It takes me a moment to notice how much I’m squirming, how fast my heart is beating. Not from anxiety. Something deeper. Calmer. Hungrier. I reach in, my hand clasping around one of the diapers. The smooth, soft plastic brushing against my fingers sends electricity through my whole body. I pull the diaper out slowly, the soft rustling of plastic against plastic breaking the dead silence of the room. I set the package down, taking the diaper in both hands. I stroke at it gently with the back of my right hand. The sound of the gentle crinkle, the impossibly soft texture brushing against my skin…it snaps something within me. Every hair on my body is standing on end. My whole body feels like it’s glowing… humming softly, contentedly. I twist involuntarily on the floor. I gasp as the action accidentally causes my panties to snag ever so slightly, brushing the soft cotton gently across my clit, into the folds of my pussy. I should be ashamed at how wet I already am. I’m not. I slowly make my way over to my bed, the diaper gripped gently in my hands. I roll onto my back and let my hands explore further. I unfold it, twist it, examine every detail…the back unfolds from the side, revealing two white-over-blue tapes on either side. I thumb at one gently, causing the edge to fold ever so slightly before snapping back. I fold the diaper back into the original flat rectangle it came out of the package in, continuing to rhythmically graze my hand across the soft outer plastic shell as I do so. I bring it in closer to my body, holding it closely against my upper chest. It hugs my breasts, barely grazing my hardened nipples through my bralette, covering the area between my chest and the bottom of my chin. I close my eyes, softly embracing the object of my unwarranted, secret, lifelong obsession. Everything slows down. Pure calm. Blissful zen. I open my eyes again, dragging the diaper to a slightly lower place on my abdomen, between my chest and stomach. I pull my left hand away, reaching for my phone. Then I reach for Sally’s business card, still peeking invitingly from the side pocket of my purse. I dial the number on the front of her card. My left hand clutches the diaper softly. My fingers stroke and graze the plastic rhythmically, involuntarily…the soft crinkling filling the quiet corners of the room, causing a warm, pleasant shiver to ripple through my entire body. It rings once, twice, before a soft, “Hello, this is Sally.” I don’t hesitate. “Hi Sally, this is Erica. Tell me more about Evergreen.” Chapter 4 The beat drops as I pull into the entrance of the mall, and I can’t help but totally lose myself in the music. I roll my head to the rhythm, moving my shoulders in time to the syncopated, stabbing synth line as the bass resonates through my chest. I know people are all about the third-wave dance punk bands that have blown up in the past few years, but it’s hard to beat the classics. I let the song keep playing as I park the car, give a quick glance around to make sure there’s no one watching, and then proceed to dance myself clean in my tiny cube on wheels. The beat calms down again for the outro. I take my phone out, still dancing in my seat but in a slightly more collected manner. A notification has popped up from my email app: LFB Logistics - Final Interview Received 4 days ago Reply now? Crap. I guess I should probably break the bad news to them, huh? Am I really going through with this, though? This must be the fifth time I’ve asked myself that in the last two days. But I know the answer. It’s always the same answer. I think back again to the phone call I had with Sally… “I must say, I wasn’t expecting to hear back from you so soon,” she began. “I’m still driving back down to the campus now. I’m sure you have plenty of questions, but let me just run over some of the basics with you to start off.” I nodded along for a moment before realizing she couldn’t actually see me. “Yes, of course,” I replied as quickly as possible. “With Labor Day being so late this year, classes don’t actually start until September 7th,” she continued. “However, we require first semester students to be here by 11 AM the Friday prior, on the 3rd of the month.” I remember doing the mental math, thinking, Shit, is that really only two and a half weeks away? “You’ll have to give your photo ID at the front gate to be let in,” Sally resumed. “The guard working there will direct you where to park and enter for your initial intake. There, you’ll be given a brief examination, as well as a quick personal orientation with one of our school’s physicians.” I cringed a bit at the thought, the mix of anxiety, anticipation and leftover arousal still stirring in my brain, taking my imagination in all manner of directions. “I’ll go ahead and send over the final admission paperwork to your email now.” Sally’s quick shift in topics had re-focused my wandering mind. “Please take some time to review all of the material…sit with it for another moment before sending it back to me. Please just know that if you do decide to join us at Evergreen that we’ll need your e-signature sent back on the documents by this Friday before 5 PM…oh, that’s the 13th, isn’t it?” Sally let out a small chuckle. “Maybe by the 12th, just to be safe,” she jested. And for once, I didn’t procrastinate. I sat with the paperwork like she asked. I read every page twice. And then I signed it last night, a full day ahead of the deadline. I was done. I glance back at my phone. My fingers begin typing. __________________ Dear Margaret, Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to meet with you, but I’ve chosen to pursue a different path that’s been offered to me. Thank you again so much for your time. Sincerely, Erica __________________ I hit send. I sit back in the seat of my car and close my eyes. I can see the hulking, rusting monstrosity of the SS LFB disappear over the horizon. Thank god. I grab my purse from the passenger seat and sling it over my right shoulder before grabbing the still-steaming cup of coffee from the cup holder, opening the door, stepping out, hip-checking it back closed, and finally hitting the button on the door handle to lock it. I walk through the automatic doors at the mall’s entrance, a wave of cool air washing over me as I enter the large department store. I shake my head lightly to the side to flick my ponytail away from my face, a few small strands landing in front of my oversized sunglasses as I do so. I push them away with the back of my left hand, then move the sunglasses off my face, onto the top of my head. As I walk towards the women’s department, my mind goes back to the email I just sent. To the conversation with Sally. To the paperwork I sent back last night. That’s it, I’m locked in. Well, metaphorically. “So…about that NDA you mentioned before…” I asked. “What exactly does that entail on my end?” “Well, it IS rather restrictive, but for good reason, as you can imagine.” Sally’s tone remained calm and warm. “While attending the school, you won’t be allowed to share any specifics about the school, your classes, the students and staff you meet there, or the activities you involve yourself in while attending. “To further protect everyone’s privacy, cellular network traffic is blocked on the school grounds. Access to the school’s wireless network is free for all of your devices, but traffic on our network is heavily monitored, especially in regards to communications and social media.” It made sense. I certainly wouldn’t want one of my classmates taking a picture of me anywhere in the school and posting it to her gram. “Once graduated, you’re obviously free to tell others that you attended and received your masters at Evergreen, but information you share must be limited to your degree, GPA, and time attended. Most graduates are able to stay vague about their time by letting others know that the NDAs exist due to highly sensitive research that takes place at the school…which isn’t untrue, to be fair.” That one gave me pause, but again, not uncommon in the post-privacy age of AI. I should still probably look into the specifics of that more. “However,” Sally continued, “We have a very strict policy regarding continued attendance in our program. We do not allow students to take semesters off, to leave and finish their degree at a later time…if you choose to leave Evergreen’s program, you are forbidden from returning to the campus, and the NDA strictly forbids you from mentioning your partial attendance, point blank.” I paused a moment before responding, a burning question in my mind. “How often do students end up dropping out of your school?” “It certainly happens on occasion,” Sally was quick to respond. “As you can imagine, adjustment to the lifestyle Evergreen helps its students cultivate can be quite overwhelming, especially at first. We try our absolute best to help our students feel as comfortable as possible as we work with them on their personal growth, but sometimes it’s just too much for some girls to handle.” I’m in the dressing room of the department store. I hold out the dress I’m about to try on in front of me, examining it closely in the mirror. I love the medium-low, sleeveless cut of the top, the slightly thick straps with subtle inlays definitely being my style. The knee-length skirt of the dress, on the other hand, is decidedly not. I exhale dramatically. It’s still not bad, and it should, in theory, do exactly what I need it to do. Still reasonably fashionable with the function intact. I glance over to the bench to the right of me that contains the fairly large pile of clothes I still need to try on. Practically a whole new wardrobe, and for good reason. I think of the reason again. I shudder. I can feel the hair rise on the back of my neck. Tiny beads of sweat form on my back. “The biggest adjustment, of course, is to our one golden rule shared by all new students, and the vast majority of returning ones,” Sally had continued. I remember my whole body clenching as a wave of…something…washed over me. Anxiety there, for sure, but also something deeper, just under the surface, something I couldn’t quite name. Something I’m STILL not sure I can, even as it starts to grip me while I stand there in the dressing room. “Like I was saying, our mission is to help our students grow to accept themselves for who they truly are. The path to self-realization means learning to push yourself higher and further than you thought you could ever go, but the hardest step on that path to take is the first. “To that end, we’ve found that requiring our new students to fully immerse themselves in a key aspect of the lifestyle we encourage them to pursue not only provides that initial push from the starting line, it also connects our students through an initial unified thread of self-discovery.” My heartbeat quickened as she delved further into the pitch. It was a lot of flowery corporate bullshit; an overly decorated, aesthetically palatable pathway that ultimately led to a jarring destination…one I could already spot over the rose-laden hedges. “All of our students, Erica, must wear and use diapers. At all times.” The dressing room is dead silent. It takes me a moment to snap back to reality. I’m gripping the dress so tightly that it’s crumpling in my fists. My cheeks are on fire, and a quick glance in the mirror confirms how flushed my face has become…burning just as red, just as hot as when Sally spoke the words to me over the phone that afternoon. I take a moment to breathe. In for four. Hold for four. Out for four. Hold for four. I pull the dress over my head and slip the hem down. I look into the mirror and make a few small adjustments, smoothing out the wrinkles I inflicted. Seems right. Slightly too big on the hips and ass…that’s what I’m going for, right? Fuck, I honestly have no idea. I’m going to have to try these on at home with the…proper underwear to know if it’s actually going to work. So annoying. I’ll probably have to return a bunch of shit in the end. It would’ve been great if I could have just gotten it together and worn one to the store, saved myself a trip… I shake my head involuntarily, shivering at the thought. I haven’t even been able to get myself to wear one at home. My mind flashes to what Sally said later in our conversation. “We find the landing is much softer for our students if they allow themselves to…pre-acclimate to the lifestyle they’ll be immersed in upon arriving at Evergreen.” My phone vibrates, clattering loudly against the hard wooden bench I’ve placed it on. I jump slightly. I shake my head again and pick my phone up. A useless ad of a ping, but it does make me realize that I’m actually running a bit behind schedule. Shit. Whatever. I have to try these all on at home now anyway. I’ll just buy everything so I can make my hair appointment on time. I hastily slip the dress back off, going back to the bench to dig out my slightly-buried t-shirt and denim shorts. I throw them on at a similar pace, gather up the large pile of maybes and walk briskly to the checkout counter. I check the clock on my phone one more time. Should be able to make the appointment. Time management has never been my strongest suit. Good thing I’ll have a watch soon…that I’ll have to wear at all times, too. “The smart watches we provide are also a vital part of our program,” Sally had explained. “Yours will function as your student ID and primary organizational device, but it also tracks how you’re adjusting to life at Evergreen, both emotionally and physiologically. It’s how we’re able to tailor the program to each individual student.” Of course, no surprises there. At least they were upfront about what kind of data they were collecting instead of burying it in the fine print like most smart devices did in their terms of service. I glance at the total that’s been rung up at the front counter and cringe. Fucking oof. Thank god I’ve got some extra cushion from the security deposit fund I apparently won’t be needing anymore. I tap my phone to the card machine as the cashier despondently bags my mountain of items. I can’t blame her…I lasted just over two months last summer in a similar retail hell. And anyway, I’m barely paying attention, either. My mind is still wandering back. “I do have a question about that, specifically,” I had asked Sally. “You’ve mentioned quite a few times how ‘personalized’ your program is for each student…but what does that mean, exactly?” “A great question,” Sally replied. “Your academic curriculum is set quite early, based on your focus of study…in your case, it will involve a lot of one-on-one work with the head of our English department, Doctor Buckley.” My brain flashed back even further to the interview in the cafe… The few pieces I’ve been able to pull by you… God dammit. I needed to know. I wanted to ask her. But I couldn’t bring myself to bring it up. She continued before I could make a second attempt. “But that’s only half of the picture. The other half is your PGP…sorry, your Personal Growth Plan. That’s the part that’s deeply individualized to each student, and what makes our program so successful. “You’ll have a Personal Growth Advisor who works with you directly throughout your entire time at Evergreen. Each week, you’ll meet to review everything outside your academics…how you’re adjusting, what you’re discovering about yourself and your desires, and any concerns you may have along the way.” I walk through the mall exit, the heat from the muggy August air hitting me like I had just opened an oven set to broil. The sudden brightness causes me to wince, and I let out a single sneeze before placing my sunglasses back over my eyes. Such a strange phenomenon, the whole ‘people with blue eyes sneezing at bright lights’ thing. I start my car remotely as I walk briskly towards it, hoping the AC kicks on fully before I make it there. I dump the bags in my back seat, then collapse dramatically into the driver’s seat. I sigh in contentment and take a moment to enjoy the cool air blowing on my face. “Okay…but what exactly IS a…Personal Growth Plan?” I had asked next. “And how exactly does all this data you’re collecting on me tie into it?” “In practical terms, adjustments to your PGP come in the form of additional rules you agree to follow while at Evergreen,” Sally explained. “Each new rule is designed to push you a little further along…to help you explore the parts of yourself you may be consciously or subconsciously curious about. “Understand, though, that students must fully consent to any rule added to their PGP, as well as the respective punishments for breaking specific rules.” There it was again. A tiny flicker from somewhere deep. The words reach through time. I squirm in my car seat. “Nothing is permanent,” Sally continued. “Your plan can be reviewed with your advisor at any time, and any rule rescinded at your discretion.” “I…I’m curious…what are some examples of some of these…additional rules that I would have to follow?” I had asked. “Unfortunately I’m not really at liberty to discuss that,” Sally replied quickly. “Rules applied as part of individual students’ PGPs really are done on a case-by-case basis, and are therefore protected under our NDA. There are a handful of commonplace rules that many of our students eventually add to their PGPs for at least some amount of time, but those will be reviewed during your orientation. Just keep in mind that even those common rules aren’t guaranteed and must be applied with each student’s consent.” Another somewhat evasive answer, but excusably so. I’m probably still just overthinking it. I’m pulling my car into the hair salon’s parking lot now. Sweeping guitar melodies fill the air around me, the soaring, high-register clean vocals of my favorite post-hardcore vocalist sending warm shivers down my spine. It’s a shame how hard he was canceled, I would’ve loved to see them live. I feel slightly guilty about providing them stream revenue, but god, I can’t help but love this band. The few pieces I’ve been able to pull by you… You’re just overthinking it. __________________ I look so fucking good. I’m elated, examining my new hair in the full-length mirror of my bedroom. I shake my head back and forth slowly, dramatically, watching the layers move in tiny waves. Left. Right. Left. It’s shorter than I’ve gone in years, barely grazing my shoulders instead of covering my upper back. It’s almost shaggy, all choppy layers and texture…like it has a personality all its own. The stylist called it “effortless” when we were going over different options, and the demo picture grabbed me immediately. Funny, the amount of work it takes to get something to look effortless…I swear she took two hours to get down the layers alone. And my fucking baaaaangs. Your bitch got bangs! Wispy curtain bangs, asymmetrical, skewed to the left, parted loose so they frame everything spectacularly. I shake my head again. The burgundy looks darker at this length, richer, catching the light with every small movement. I look fucking awesome. I bite the right side of my lip out of habit, tonguing gently at the little hole there. But I don’t feel that tiny pit of dread when I do. Instead I feel hope. And then I spot the pack again, sitting on the floor on the opposite side of my bed. The one piece I’ve taken out sits, still folded, on the nightstand right next to it. I’ve picked it up a few times in the last few days, but I still haven’t been able to put it on. To be fair, the last couple days have been pretty chaotic. Turns out making a major life decision on a whim tends to throw things into a bit of a whirlwind. I think back again to what Sally said at the end of our phone call. We find the landing is much softer for our students if they allow themselves to…pre-acclimate to the lifestyle they’ll be immersed in upon arriving at Evergreen. I know exactly what she was getting at. And she’s right. I need to dip my toe in before I get thrown in the deep end. I take a deep breath and unbutton my denim shorts, sliding them down in one fell swoop with my panties in tow, letting them both fall lazily to the floor. I toss my shirt off in an equally hasty fashion. Then my bralette. I roll onto my bed, onto my back, and reach for the folded white rectangle on my nightstand before I give my brain a chance to catch up. I stare at it for a moment. Hesitating. The bright sheen of the transparent landing strip reflecting the lamplight from behind, dancing, shifting across the surface with every small movement I make. My fingers, softly gripping the back of the folded white rectangle, are running small circles across the smooth plastic. A tiny crinkling noise rises from where they make contact, a slightly louder squeak breaking through rhythmically with each rotation. Fucking do it already. I flip the rectangle upside down. Unfold the front, then the back, the quilted cotton interior now fully visible. I lift my hips to raise my back just a few inches off the bed. I move my hands to reposition the back half of the…diaper…underneath me. As I do, the silky white exterior drags gently down the bottom of my stomach. It grazes against my clit for just a brief moment on its journey downward. It’s still enough for me to gasp, close my eyes, involuntarily bite my lip. Holy shit. My hands begin to move faster. I let the diaper drop onto the bed, then position my hands underneath me to grab it, dragging it under my butt and lower back, unfolding the two back wings as I do so. I lower myself onto it. My eyes shut again, mouth just slightly agape as I feel my skin slowly press into the waiting cotton lining. Another small crinkle as my weight settles into it. The warmth. The impossible softness. I can’t help but reach over with my right hand and touch myself. Even the lightest pressure against my clit and I’m squirming. It’s a good thing I have this padding under me or I would’ve already made a small wet spot on the bed. I feel my cheeks flush, face burning red at the thought. I return to the task at hand, looking down as I adjust the back wings, ensuring they’re splayed evenly to the sides of my hips. I reach down between my legs, pull the front of the diaper towards me. The soft lining…so impossibly soft…makes contact with my inner thighs. My mound. Then right up against my slit. My pulsing clit. Pure electricity crashing through me. My hips buck, increasing the friction between my pussy and the diaper ever so slightly. Holy fuck. I have to catch my breath a second before I can keep going. So close. I unfold the front wings as I pull the front panel up and against my lower torso. I twist gently to my right first, left hand on the front, pulling the wing into my hip. Right hand grasping at the bottom tape of the back panel, pulling in the opposite direction. The now-opened tape makes contact with the front panel, the materials adhering to each other with ease. I switch sides. Lower left tape. Hands shaking in anticipation. Top left. Top right. And just like that, the diaper has me sealed in its warm, velvety, crinkly embrace. I writhe uncontrollably. Hips bucking, rocking. Thighs pressing together…not quite able to touch as they compress the thick padding. I lift my feet, letting them dangle a few inches from the bed, lifting my thighs towards my hips. The movement causes the diaper to hug tighter against my ass, against my pussy. I can feel myself dripping, gravity creating a slow river of my juices towards my anus, spreading slowly in between my cheeks. My right hand presses against the front of my diaper. I moan. A chorus of sensations. The soft plastic against my palm. The loud crinkle of the disturbed diaper. The increased pressure of the quilted lining right up against my dripping pussy. I pause. Draw my hand back. No. Don’t dive deeper yet. Stay. Right here. Remember this moment. Every feeling. Every sensation. Perfect stillness. Silence. Pure bliss. Chapter 5 Nineteen days til Evergreen I wake up to a mess of hair and silk pressed directly against my face. I yawn as I pull myself away from my pillow just a few inches. A tiny strand of something wet catches my lip. I notice a small dark spot on the pillowcase right where my mouth just was. Classy. I bury my face back into my pillow, slightly to the left of the drool puddle. My body stretches involuntarily as I begin to wake. A loud crinkling noise emanates from beneath the sheets. My eyes shoot wide and my cheeks grow warm. I completely forgot. I must have passed out last night after putting it on. I squirm my hips and legs, the rustling plastic growing louder in turn. The soft, thick cotton brushes lightly around my most intimate areas as I do so. I squirm more at the heavenly sensation. A sensual feedback loop, quickly amplifying. I turn my head to the left, towards my bedroom window. The sun is already bright in the sky. Shit, how long was I out for? However long it was, I feel amazing…muscles loose, head light and hazy…I could just lie here like this for hours. But then I notice another sensation. Pressure, somewhere low. Oh fuck. I need to pee. BADLY. I start to get out of bed, getting to my knees and turning to the right towards my bedroom door. The cacophony of crinkles causes me to freeze. I look down at myself, the crimped plastic of the diaper’s waistband meeting my stomach just below my belly button. Like bright white accordion folds. No. No way. I just tried putting one on for the first time last night. I couldn’t possibly… I hesitate. The pressure on my bladder is severe from what I’m assuming was ten plus hours of sleeping. I really need to go. Now. I look back up. Get to the bathroom, start moving your feet. You can’t do this, not yet. What if it gets all over the bed? I’m sure I didn’t put it on right. Did it get looser overnight? What if… ...Wait. No. None of that will matter in a few weeks. There won’t be a door to run to. No decision to be made. But I can still make a decision now. I can still move towards the door. Just move! But I don’t move. My legs are frozen, keeping me kneeling on my mattress. Pressure growing. It’s funny how much harder it is to hold it when you know that relief is so close. So simple. Like your subconscious is already relaxing the muscles before you’re ready to release. I hesitate long enough for my body to make the decision for me. I feel it go. No, not a decision. Not even a choice, really… just a muscle I’ve been holding closed for ten hours finally, gratefully, letting itself open. Like sitting down for the first time after watching five opening bands, the full headlining set and an encore. There’s a half-second of nothing. Just the release itself, that deep internal unclenching, my whole lower body going soft with relief before anything else registers. A lovely, comforting heat spreading slowly. Oh my god. I’m doing it. I’m peeing. No…I’m…wetting my diaper. My face is red hot. My hand drifts down to gently grip where the warmth is spreading. I feel the padding covering my pussy swelling, expanding…the padding around it following suit as the cotton interior absorbs every drop. I can’t believe…I can’t believe I just did that. That I’m STILL doing it. Without even meaning to. One second, on the bed, struggling internally, weighing my options. And then my body did its own thing. I look down. I’m still going. Holy shit. A dull yellow spot has stained the previously pristine ivory front of my diaper, expanding outward, downward…the material starting to droop and sag lower against my thighs. Did I just have an…accident? Or was my subconscious making the call for me? Wearing them was one thing, but actually USING a diaper… I grip a little tighter, electricity shooting from where the now squishy material makes contact with my clit. I feel the warm stream exiting me decelerate, the hissing quickly quieting, and then…silence once again. My hand drifts down further, down the smoothed, hot, soft plastic lining. Down so much further than it had been just a minute ago. I press my thighs towards each other, the expanded, sodden padding between them now stiffer, holding them even further apart. I feel the squish. Hear the crinkle. Holy fuck. I close my eyes, slowly lowering myself back onto my bed as my hand continues to explore my wet diaper. I squirm as I feel my weight settling into the seat of my diaper…the once-soft padding now enveloping the bottom of my cheeks in a warm, squishy embrace as I feel the liquid redistribute slightly higher up the back. The diaper feels SO different now that it’s wet. Still so warm. Still so soft, inside and out. But heavier now…tighter between my thighs. What a disgusting thing to do. It feels fucking amazing. My hand slowly drags back up the velvety plastic. I increase the pressure against the diaper slightly, feeling the material part ever so gently. I squirm more, eyes closed as I bite my lip. The squish of the wet diaper pressing down hard against my pussy, up and up. I can feel myself dripping into the already wet diaper, clit aching in anticipation. My hand caresses the sodden plastic slowly, upwards, gently… BBBBBZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ My erotic zen is broken by the deafening rattle of my vibrating phone against my wooden nightstand. Infuriated, I grab the phone off my nightstand with the full intent of yeeting it through my bedroom door. Luckily I glance at the front screen for just a moment before I do so. 11:03 AM MOM CALLING Oh FUCK. I slept even later than I thought. The call with Mom I scheduled to give her the news. SHIT. I flip onto my stomach and scream into my pillow. I take a breath before flipping back over. It’s fine. I’m calm. Everything’s fine. I quickly tap on the DECLINE & MESSAGE option. Hey mom! Give me just one minute. It’s just an audio call, but I need to throw some clothes on. God forbid I accidentally hit the FaceTime button and…yeah, no, let’s not risk that one. I jump out of bed and grab the first pieces of clothes I see: the shirt I was wearing yesterday and a nearby pair of sweatpants. As I pull the sweatpants up in haste, I feel a quick increase in pressure once again of the warm, heavenly squish against my mound, against my ass…I whine loudly, taking another deep breath, wishing I had a bucket of ice water to dunk my head in right now. I settle back onto my bed slowly. I take my phone again, my finger hovering over the button to call Mom back. I close my eyes for a moment to fully collect myself. I press down on the screen. “Hiiiiiii jellybean! How are yoouuuuu?” Ow. Too loud. Too much enthusiasm. Too early for this. “Hiiiii mom! I’m doing good! How’ve you been? What’re you up to?” “I’m doing just peachy!” she answers, a hint of lecture already dripping from her voice. “I just wish you were home already! I know you have the apartment until the end of the month but you know you’d just save so much money on food if you had come home after school!” I roll my eyes. Thank god she didn’t want to FaceTime, I don’t think I would’ve been able to stuff that one down. “I know, Mom, but someone had to be here to do the final walkthrough with the landlord, and it feels like I paid the last couple months of rent for nothing if no one was gonna be here.” She sighs dramatically. At least I know where I got that from. “I knooowwww I know, I just miss my baby! Plus you’re not gonna be able to see Mary before she heads back off to school. Your sister misses you, too, we all do!” Blech. I think Mary will be just fine. She’s got her fancy private college friends to get back to, anyway. Little miss perfect princess needs not for the company of the common rabble. “I know, I know! Tell her I say hi and that I miss her too!” “I will when I see her, jellybean. She’s run off somewhere, I don’t know. But what’s going on, buttercup? Did your last interview go well? Is my little girl starting her first real job?!” The elation in her voice is unreal. It’s cool, you can sell this. Gotta put that undergrad to SOME good use, right? “Sooooooo here’s the crazy thing, Mom. I actually got a WAY better offer in a different interview earlier this week! You’re not gonna believe this, but they actually sought me out and sent someone up to New Paltz to interview me!” “Wooowww, that’s so great to hear, sweetie!” I hear the surprise poorly hidden behind her regular, jolly demeanor. “You didn’t tell me about this one at all! What’s the company? What’s the position? When do you start?” I cringe. Exactly one of those questions has a real answer, at least. “Well, my official start date is gonna be September 3rd!” I pause and take a breath, bracing myself for the oncoming sound of a mother’s hopes and dreams being crushed by her oldest daughter. “But here’s the thing. The offer I got was actually for an extremely exclusive grad school down in Westchester called Evergreen! They only accept a handful of new students every year, and I got offered a full ride!” A deafening two full seconds of silence. “Woooooowww honey! That’s…that’s amazing! Congratulations on the offer!” I can tell she’s trying hard to sound excited. She’s never been the best actor. “I don’t think you ever mentioned wanting to go for your masters, but that’s great! A free ride is certainly a big deal. What’s your business concentration going to be? What was the name of the school again?” I take another breath. “It’s Evergreen, Mom. And they actually accepted me into their creative writing program. They said they were really, really impressed with my work from before I switched…it’s the whole reason they gave me a free ride,” I half-lied. “Oh! I see.” The thin veil of supportiveness in her voice is quickly fading. “Well jellybean, I thought we had already decided that wasn’t really the most practical path to pursue. I know how much you love to write, but it’s getting tougher and tougher out there for everyone.” We is a bit strong. It’s fine. You’ve got the closing pitch, let’s knock her dead. “For sure, Mom, but Evergreen sought me out very specifically for their creative writing program, and I can’t think of a single employer that would consider a bachelor’s to have a greater value than pretty much ANY master’s, especially when my undergrad was in business admin.” God, I sound like a robot. I wonder if she was able to tell that I’ve been practicing that one in the shower for the past two days. Another pause from her end, followed by a sigh. “Well, Erica, it’s hard to argue with that. But I still really think you should think about it a little more, this is a big decision and seems very sudden.” I crack a wicked smile. Fuck yeah! Got herrrr. Of course, she doesn’t need to know that I’ve already made the decision, that the paperwork’s already signed, that I’m already on that path. “Of course, Mom! The paperwork is due back soon but I’ll be sure to mull it over again.” “Alright honey, well I certainly trust you to make the right decision,” she lied, “Just let me know, jellybean.” “I will, Mom. I have a hair appointment, so I’ve gotta head out,” I lied right back, “I love you though! Talk to you soon!” “I love you too sweetie! Stay safe! Call your mother more!” I let the phone collapse onto the pillow and exhale everything I’ve been holding since I scheduled that stupid call. I look to the right, out my bedroom door. Flattened boxes stacked in my living room. I still have a ton of cleaning and packing to do. I should probably get started on that. With a sigh, I start sitting up. I gasp and moan as I feel my soggy diaper press and squish against my bottom. Fuuuuuuuuuuccckkk. Ok. No. There’s absolutely no way I can function like this. Every tiny movement I make reminds me of the wet, crinkly prison I’m trapped in. I barely sat up and the symphony of sensations already has me absolutely dripping. My entire pussy is aching…BEGGING for release. I have to do something to take care of this NOW. There’s no way I can get anything else done unless I do. I collapse back onto my bed, the springs of my mattress squeaking lightly. I practically flail to get my shirt and sweatpants back off. I’m in nothing but my wet diaper once again, and my hands go to caress the soft plastic instantly. My soaking wet diaper…it feels so fucking good. I moan. I writhe. My right hand reaches for the wand in my nightstand drawer without needing to look. I stare at the toy for a moment, then look back down to my diaper. I pull my other hand away from it, using it instead to slowly caress my left breast. I bite my lip, still squirming impatiently. In a single, fluid motion, I turn my wand onto the lowest setting and press it directly into the front of my diaper, right where my clit lies under the thick, damp padding. Electricity shoots through my whole body. My back arches involuntarily, both hands now gripping the wand as I increase the pressure, a soft squelch accompanying the amplified buzzing of rubber against plastic. “Ooohhhhhhhhhh fuuuuuucckk…” I’m panting like some sort of feral beast. I feel like I should savor this. Take my time, explore all the sensations. I’ve been waiting for this moment not just since last night, but for what feels like my entire fucking life. But I can already feel it building. Quickly building pressure where my wand is pressing. I feel beads of sweat forming on my torso, my brow. I’m grinding without control into the toy. Fuck it. I flip my thumb with practiced ease to quickly increase the power of the wand. I let out an animalistic moan. “OH FUCK.” The chorus of sounds is truly obscene, and so fucking hot. My panting, soft moans breaking through. The vibrations of the wand resonating against the plastic shell of the diaper. A soft, synchronized crackling and squelching as I grind my padded pussy greedily into my toy. The pressure is building quickly. So fucking quickly. And then an explosion. Unlike anything I’ve ever felt. My entire body rocks and convulses as my back arches. I scream, my voice cracking. Spasms of pure ecstasy rock my entire pussy, inside and out. The waves of pleasure ripple through my entire abdomen. Fuck, my entire body. I pull the wand away as I continue to cum. I can feel myself squirting, adding more to the contents of my diaper. It’s almost too much. I let out a long, low moan, my body still writhing, slower and slower. Holy. Fucking. Shit. I’m tempted to keep going. Maybe in a little bit I’ll go for another round. But for now, I set my wand to my side. That was...wow. Is this what I’ve been missing by shoving everything down for all these years? Is this what it feels like to be truly free of your own bullshit, even if just for three minutes? I should probably shower. This diaper is gross, and I’m grosser. I should start making those boxes, packing up the handful of things in my kitchen. But no. I think I’ll sit here for a minute. Just a minute.

Dear Reader This is the sequel about “Lila's Family Vacation”. I already finished the story, and it has approximately 105 000 words and about 250 pages. I will try to publish a chapter regularly when my work schedule allows, that I correct and proofread a part. (Hopefully I will be able to do that every two weeks or so). But I probably will skip the weeks when I am on vacation (one in August and two in September). The first part can be found here: Criticism and praise is greatly appreciated. For some scenes, I added some hand drawn illustrations. Showing some nice/key scenes of the plot. I want to explain here that none of them is AI generated, so criticism and nice words on the drawings is also welcome as they were a lot of work to create. You will notice that some storylines will be still open at the end, another book is planned for the future !!! PLEASE DO NOT COPY THE STORY. !!! !!! IF THAT HAPPENS, I WILL STOP POSTING/WRITING NEW PARTS !!! You should understand that posting it elsewhere is taking away comments and criticism from the author. This is my only reward I get from some hundred hours of work, and it is the same as stealing! In that case, I would rather sell on Amazon and hand it out to people via PM. If you want to have it on your site, contact me and we will find a solution. If you prefer a PDF Version this will be available, when I complete posting it here via PM and at the enormous cost of some words and a comment from you. !!! SO KEEPING IF FREE IS UP TO YOU. !!! What happened so far Last week, Lila was on a flyover trip with her family and as every time when they went on a trip, her mummy put her child in diapers for the flights. Despite her doubts about needing her special underwear at the age of thirteen, it made her vacation much more relaxing and enjoyable. So she had a lot of fun exploring the city, and that changed her feelings toward the step back into her childhood that she did. But it was not only her diapers coming back into her life, she noticed soon that making friends was easier when you can play carefree like a little child. Now that Lila has come home from her vacation, she is not ready to take back all her teenage responsibilities anymore. And she can not face her math teacher any longer who always demands answers for his difficult exercises. No, Lila would love to step back from her teenage life just as she did on her vacation, and it also seems that the teenage lifestyle is not what is right for her anymore. Her life is strange. She is not a baby, but she is not a big kid either. This is the story about Lila coming home and finding a path in her life that leads her away from the stressful routine and closer to a life that she thought had ceased to exist. Back to School “Honey it's time to get up”, Maria slowly was waking Lila, who was still in her dreams and smiling about the wonderful time they had. But her girl just turned away, as if her mum was reality that came closer. “Lila, wake up!” she repeated herself a little louder, rocking her daughters belly a few times. The young girl slowly opened her eyes, not willing to accept that the sun had risen, and the new day had started. Her mum let her time to stretch for a second. “You have to get ready for school”, she said, slowly removing her blanket and revealing that Lila wet her diaper she wore overnight. Now that they came home from their trip her mum had expected her daughter to stay dry, but at night her precious child never fully mastered potty-training and with her diapers she at least knew she would be safe, comfortable and dry during the night. For a second, her mum wished her kid could just stay so sweet, childish and innocent. And she could allow her to shamelessly go potty in it, as she did on their entire trip last week. The idea of letting her child continue using pampers during the day was in her mom's mind, but using her diaper would surely embarrass her little girl, especially when she was in school with all her more mature looking classmates. So her mum was glad that she had convinced her daughter to try wearing her good old panties for their return to school. And she doubted Lila would put enough dedication in keeping herself dry, as her girl did not mind using her diapers anymore. Now, she had her little girl laying on the bed, trusting her innocently, as she had on all the days of her vacations. And as she knew that the next days would be hard for Lila going back to her problems in class, she wanted to give her as much love and security as she could. “Do you mind if I help you get dressed?”, her mum offered as the little girl did not move and looked as if she wanted to stay in bed. Her still sleepy daughter nodded, looking forward to getting a little bit more from the love she experienced in the last days Her mum softly slid down her pyjama pants and removed the baby panties. With a smile, she opened the tapes of her childish looking but sodden wet diaper and softly cleaned her child. For a short moment it seemed that her mum was searching for one of these cartoons themed paddings as she was done with wiping her girl. “Can you get one of your panties on after you take a shower?” “Are you sure, just panties?”, Lila asked back, sounding a bit disappointed and worried, while pressing Noah on her chest, who naturally found its way in Lila's bed. “I am sure you will manage to stay dry when you remember to always go potty when your phone rings.”, her mum reminded her about the app on her phone that they had installed together yesterday. “Hmm”, the girl summed in inevitable approval, the app was a potty training helper for older kids and would send her to the restroom with a ringing sound whenever Lila had a break at school. While this was surely helpful, it put back the load and responsibility on the small kid's shoulders. Lila already wished she would be back on vacation. Carefree, happy, protected and joyful, like a small child, and surely not responsible for everything that could happen to her panties. “Come hop over to the shower”, her mum sent her to start her daily routine. Hopefully this day would go by without any new catastrophe happening in her life, she wished as the warm water tried to wash away her sleepiness. “Lila come ... don't waste too much time, your school bus is leaving in 20 minutes”, her mum yelled opening the bathroom door. She clearly did not want to hurry to get on this bus, not today and not on a math day. She hated her math teacher, even more than she hated school. With an unhappy face, she dried herself and ambled back to her room. “LILA, come on, we need to hurry.”, her mum was already standing there. She had prepared a fresh set of teen-style school clothes on her bed. Without letting her child time to realize it, she pulled the new shirt over her head, but it was not the loving help of her mum that she enjoyed so much in the last days. The stress that pulsed through her mum’s arteries felt like poison on her soul. She could not fight her off with her teenage temper. The sadness swapped over her, and she noticed tears rolling over her cheeks. “Sniff ... Sniff”, she tried to swallow her desperation and was still crying for help in this childish but irresistible way. Her mum placed her hand on her shoulder and waited for a second. She could still call her boss and tell them she would be late and bring her daughter to school. She took her phone and sent a short note. Before she hugged her child, rocking her until all her tears dried. “Baby wait I will help you”, her mum said, and she started to dress her into her mature teeny clothes, which actually would look quite out of place on her. She noticed her little girl actually also wet herself, when she was in tears, and she left a big wet spot on the well protected bed. “Did you already forget to go to the toilet?”, she asked patiently, as you would ask a toddler. She sent her little girl to the porcelain throne and changed the sheet on the mattress. Before she finally dressed her girl for the day. ### If we now examine the two binomials together we can reduce the denominator, we get a simple equation, the math teacher tried to explain to them. Lila, on the other hand, had been thinking for minutes about all these numbers and squares and why the teacher always expected her to find the solution. She rested her head on her arm in despair and had long since given up on solving this calculation. If she could at least get some rest during the break. But every time that stupid phone rang and sent her to the loo. Hmm, but at least she's stayed dry so far. Well, apart from the slightly damp feeling in her panties. ‘RRRRR’ The bell rang for a break and all the children wanted to get up to recover from the exhausting lesson before their teacher would talk for another hour about the different binomial formulae and their various applications. “Stop children STOP. Today, we have a two-hour lesson and next week we have exams. We're not taking the break today”, he explained sternly, that there would be no rest for what he saw as lazy math students. “So, let's summarize this”, he angrily continued in his class, while Lila's mind had already dreamed herself away before he had even finished writing the term. Why did it all have to be so difficult and complicated? She cursed inwardly. She did not dare to close her eyes but listening to her teacher's voice was almost painful for her right now. So she just tranced herself away into her beautiful memories of their last trip and her friendship with Alex. ‘Bumm’’ .... He suddenly slammed his fist at the table. “LILA, ARE YOU SLEEPING?”, the old math professor impatiently demanded her attention. “Can you explain to your classmates why you stare out of the window and not pay any attention to this important stuff?” The silence he left and the expectation from all the surrounding pupils embarrassed her even more. “No ... Nothing ... as always.” “So because you clearly seem to know everything about the binomial formulas, you can show it to us.” With a vengeful grin, he wrote the most difficult term on the blackboard and put the chalk on her desk. “Go, Lila, I want to see what you learned in your sleep.” “I Just ... I”, she stumbled as she anxiously got up. She had no glue, what she was supposed to do with that math problem, not even where to start. Her heart was beating like crazy and there was this crowing need in her blather urging her to head to a bathroom, as she did not go in her break. She could not ask her professor to leave for a potty break. It would surely be denied as an attempt to chicken out of her make-up exam. Desperate, she tried to remember the formula to at least put that on the blackboard and remembered her dad explaining that to her before their vacation. It had brackets in it, she was sure, starting with an opening one. Assuming it was something with a and b, she was pretty sure as well. “You don't even know the basics”, the angry teacher yelled from her place, where he seemed to be inspecting her booklet. “You will never make it this year, and you just rob the time from your classmates.”, he went on, talking so loud that all her efforts not to cry failed, and she started sobbing in tears. ... “You finally have to grow up and take responsibility”, he shouted once more, sending the girl deeper into her desperation. And as Lila lost all her self-control, she noticed how the warm wet feeling was spreading in her crotch. “Lila is wetting herself, look how an immature baby she is.”, one of the rouged girls who already wanted to look somewhat attractive, jeered. “You did really just pee yourself in my classroom”, the teacher added while sounding mad. Lila could no longer stand being in class; she was feeling embarrassed and beaten up. She just wanted to hide ... or run away ... as fast as she could. Without giving anyone a chance to catch her, she started to move, kicked the door open and flew even further down the hallway. She wanted to be back home, but she knew it would be empty. Without even stopping, she passed some of her teachers and slipped out of the main door. “LILA stop, please”, she heard a voice calling for her but like a herd of buffalos she could not. ‘QUICK ... TuuuT ... TuuuT’, she ignored the signal horn of a car right behind her as she crossed the street and noticed that she was on her way over to the house where she normally would attend the afternoon program. She needed a place to be safe. To think for a moment about her options. About where to go....

I'm really sorry for the delay on this one. I'm just trying to make everything perfect, and this doesn't feel perfect yet. But I'm probably as close to perfect as I'm going to get. I know this chapter is really short. I'll try to have a longer one up by next week, okay? Anyway... If you haven't read any Academy Works stories, there are five others in this universe. They are as follows: Academy I (Part 1), Academy B (Part 2), Academy T (Part 3), Academy K (Part 4), and Academy A (Part 5). You don't have to read any of the other stories to enjoy this one, but there are a lot of references and overlap. If you're in this for the long haul, and you want to know about the entire universe, I really do recommend reading this one after the other five. As always, you can support me at this Patreon link. Thank you for all the comments and likes over the past year, and I hope to finish this project soon! ~Mia~ --------------------------------- Academy M By Mia Moore "The just are blind to love, and the lovers are blind to everything else." -The Source Mistake One I flipped through the dossier. Of all the cases they wanted me to start with... "So?" "You're sure she's a candidate?" I asked. Eli nodded. He was the Academy's problem solver, and his first problem was the hardest one. How do we identify the candidates? "Judith Levin, age twenty-eight." "And she's been Touched?" I flipped the page. There was a picture on this one: a brunette with half-closed eyes and a faraway look. "Yep," Eli said, which was all that he had to say. If she'd been Touched and he was able to compile a dossier, that was proof enough. She didn't disappear. "So what am I supposed to do," I said sharply, snapping the folder closed. I entwined my fingers in front of me and leaned forward to meet Eli's gaze. He could intimidate anyone, but not me. I'd been working with him for far too long. "Keep her occupied. She's done her part, but she's still an Arcana. She's dangerous." Sure, keep her occupied. Eli was asking me to babysit God. "Why me?" I asked. That was the real question I wanted answered. "There are a thousand other people working here that could handle this." Eli smiled when he said: "She's into tall women." "Well, shit..." "No one is better than you, Maria," Eli went on. He was goading me, but he wasn't wrong. "Where is she?" I asked, entertaining the offer. "Academy B?" "M," Eli said flatly. "Wait, really?" “——— isn't taking any chances." "I guess not..." I twirled my hair in thought. If keeping Judith in line was really so important, then I might as well take on the extra responsibility. It would give me more leverage at the end of all this. "So you'll do it?" Eli asked. "I'll do it." "Good." And then Eli dropped the stoicism for just a moment to give me a smile. "You've got this." "I'm not worried," I said brightly, without a hint of dishonesty. But I should have been worried. I should have shown an ounce of caution, but my pride never let me make such compromises. Determination and commitment motivated me, and they would motivate me to oblivion. Judith Levin would be my downfall, and that cascade began when I accepted her as my responsibility. She was my first mistake.

Ch.1 One Month Prior Out of all the covert gatherings of small folk tucked away from the eyes of Willowford's Amazon population, The Little Secret was probably the best kept and most carefully guarded. It also happened to be Piper's favorite night of the month. A dance night just for Littles, that moved locations monthly, and anyone attending had to have learned the password through one message tree and the location through another that kept it so only free Littles could show up. Any Little who got the good words was guaranteed a night of partying where they wouldn’t have to worry about the danger that Amazon’s presented in their day to day lives. It was a basement dive bar that the organizers of The Little Secret, or TLS as most patrons had started calling it, had rented out for the night. Dust and grime coated the surfaces, a good sign to the Littles attending that whoever owned this hole in the wall wouldn’t care to come check in on it. The bar had step stools on either side for both patrons and bartenders to step up, make orders, and hand drinks back and forth. Every Little waited patiently for their turn on the ordering stool, knowing better than to start a fight. Amazon sized tables and chairs had been pushed against the walls and Little size tables and chairs had been set up in their place. No two chairs matched, the tables were scratched and damaged in ways that left no doubt that they had been saved from going to the dump, but no Little complained as they sat comfortably with drinks in their hands, idly stirring the cocktails with short black straws that had no bends or loops, and no Little had to worry about a bottle with a nipple being placed in their hands. It was a slightly wobbly table kept steady with an old text book that Piper and her friends had claimed as theirs for the evening. Piper had shown up in an outfit that made her feel like the star of the show. Usually, on a typical day in life as a Little, she wore plain, muted clothes so as to not draw attention to herself. Nights when TLS were happening were nights Piper got to play with her wardrobe. Her caramel brown hair was clipped up in just the right way to make her curls bounce with every step. She wore a black leather jacket with bright embroidered purple violets on the sleeves over top of a blue cami, both having come from the same thrift shop. Dark wash jeans and carefully cared for boots completed her look. Fashion was a language of its own, Piper always thought, and tonight she felt like she was saying “I’m confident and cool, and you can’t deny it.” “What about you, Piper?” Her table had been playing the classic Little thought game of How Do You Think It Will Happen’ “If you get Adopted, how do you see it happening?” Justice asked as he swirled his bourbon around in his glass. Sage, Romy, and Tyler waited for her answer. Each one of them wearing outfits that they wouldn’t be caught in the daylight wearing lest they be snatched and forcibly changed out of them. “Oh, you know me, Justice.” She paused to steal another glance at the blonde bombshell at the bar. “It’ll probably be because I convinced a hot Amazon milf to take me to bed and make me squirt. But only after making her squirt, of course.” That caused her friends to burst out in laughter, which gave Piper the best opportunity to get up with her empty glass of vodka cranberry and make her way over to the Blonde Little who had been returning Piper’s glances all night. A pick up line is more effective when you have the boisterous laughter of your friends to make you stand out. And it was a good night to dance with someone cute. Present If fashion was a language of its own, as Piper so often thought, then her fashion tonight was giving “Failed Little who pissed her pants and was now crying in front of the Amazon most likely to diaper and Adopt her.” This evening had started with Piper slamming back glasses of cranberry juice. Her last few trips to the Amazon sized toilet in her apartment, which were now looking to be her last trips to any sized toilet ever, had been painful. This will take care of it she had optimistically thought to herself as she committed to her home remedy. She was on her fourth glass when Steven, her Amazon neighbor across the hall in the quad-plex, had knocked on her door to use her hospitality and lament about how bad his latest romantic endeavor had gone. “Sure, come on in!” Piper had said through a plastered smile. A rule most Littles lived by was to not live next to Amazons at all, preferring small communities of other Littles. But if you couldn’t avoid it, like having an oblivious Amazon move into the apartment next to yours in what is mainly a Little and Tweener neighborhood, then be nice to their faces and try to keep interactions to a minimum. Nothing overly rude, as to not trigger their need to correct “bratty” behavior, and not overly familiar, lest they decide that you’re trying to be their sweet baby they can place on their hip. “...and then she said if I couldn’t ignore a call from my mother and wait until the end of the movie to call her back then maybe she and I should stop seeing each other.” A half hour later he was slumped on Piper's old, tattered couch giving a detailed description of his failed date. Piper was as far away from him on the other end light bouncing her knee to distract herself from the growing pressure in her bladder. Yeah, it’s not cute for a grown man to still be attached by the umbilical cord. “I’m so sorry that happened. But it’s getting late-” “I just don’t understand what’s so wrong about having a close relationship with your mother, I mean…” Steven obviously continued his monologue. A small whine escaped Piper and her hand twitched nervously in her lap. Her bladder was getting near “Hold Your Crotch” levels of aching, but she knew better than to make the vulgar display in front of an Amazon. Even one as lame as Steven. It’s fucking lame, Steven! Your date was right! That’s Little boy behavior to them! “Oh, yeah, you know. Not a lot of people value that connection between family nowadays. Now, if you would ex-” “You’re so right, Piper! Not a lot of people do value that connection between…” he rambled on, taking off his glasses to polish them. Piper’s bladder twitched and, despite her best efforts, spurted her panties with the tiniest bit of urine. That tiny bit of urine set her urethra on fire. Letting go of her composure to squirm, she let out a gasp and almost jumped off the couch. You can’t. Not with him. She crossed her legs tighter and vowed to hit any damp spot on the cushion with stain remover as soon as Steven was gone. Please just leave, please just leave, please just leave. “... and with elderly loneliness on the rise, it’s really important that we cherish these connections…” Steven continued his oblivious rambling. He wasn’t going to leave, and she wasn’t going to last. She let out a noise, somewhere between a gasp and a groan, as she felt one last sharp pain before the flood gates opened and she jumped off the couch. Tears, both of humiliation and pain from the intense burning as her overly full bladder released its contents down her pant legs, flowed down her face as Steven stared at her in genuine shock. He had been too absorbed in his own misery that he hadn’t picked up on her cues to get him out or to excuse herself. “Umm.” Steven broke the silence first, his eyes darting between her and the puddle at her feet. “Are you okay?” He looked genuinely concerned for Piper. Great. A sob wracked itself past Piper’s lips as she sorted through her thoughts. He’s such a loser that a Little pissing herself in front of him doesn’t make him spring into Daddy Amazon mode. “I hurt, - it hurts to-” another sob escaped from Piper and she took a moment to calm down and try to collect her thoughts. He hasn’t pulled out a diaper yet or put you over his knee, it’s not all over yet. “I had noticed some pain earlier using the restroom, and I was drinking cranberry juice to handle it tonight. But,” she choked back another sob as her bladder twitched in pain again, “First thing in the morning I’m going out to get some meds.” A half truth and a lie, she had planned on just calling the midwife who acted as nurse for this mainly Little and Tweener neighborhood on the east side of Willowsford only if a couple of days drinking only cranberry juice proved to be ineffective. “Oh” he blinked in sincere understanding, “You don’t have to wait until morning, the Urgent Care on Hudson is open twenty-four seven.” And in another blink switched right back to unaware Amazon. Just go back across the hall. “It’s a forty minute walk and it’s already nine. It will be the first thing in the morning I promise.” “You don’t have to walk, I can drive you!” Steven’s face lit up. It was never a good sign when an Amazon’s face lit up. Fuck fuck fuck “You really don’t have to, I promise I can take care of this tomorrow.” “No, it’s not a problem! It’s what friends do.” His head swiveled on his shoulders as he looked around her apartment and pointed towards the bathroom. “Do you have towels in there? We should probably put one underneath you.” He walked towards the bathroom before she could answer. Nonono “NO!” she panicked and screamed at him. He stopped, and turned to look down at her, causing her to panic even more. Shit, he’s going to go even more into Amazon mode. “I- I can just change pants, no need for a towel. I don’t want to risk staining your seats or the waiting room chair.” It was a gamble, but going in with wet pants was a surer nail in the coffin than just going in with dry pants and the story of having wet oneself. He smiled and pulled her faded pink towel off the rack. “You’re in pain, Piper.” He walked back and pocketed his phone. “We need to get you there fast. My seats will be fine, and I’m sure all the furniture there is made to be easy to clean. They have to see worse fluids on a daily basis.” Then he was holding her door open, making it clear that he expected her to walk to her death on her own two, currently soggy socks, feet. She stared down at her socks, all of the fight out of her. “Steven…” her damp pants were starting to feel cold, “My socks… I can’t put shoes on over these socks. It’s not like the Urgent Care is going to close… I have time to change.” Steven looked down at the shoe rack she kept near her door, and his face lit when he spotted what he needed to see. “You have those slide on sandals, those will be fine!” Piper sighed, fighting back the tears that threatened to send her into full blown sobbing, and grabbed the sandals.

Hey there!! Guess who's back with more Academy Works! (It's me. Mia.) I've actually written four other stories in this universe and they are as follows: Academy I (Part 1), Academy B (Part 2), Academy T (Part 3), and Academy K (Part 4). For the first time, I'm going to strongly recommend you read the other parts first! You don't have to; Aya's story is really great even without context. But I do think this story would benefit from knowing more about the series overall. (Also this one kicks into gear a little faster than A:K ) Same as before, you can support me at this Patreon link. Thanks for reading and commenting and liking! It really does help my motivation. ~Mia~ --------------------------------- Academy A By Mia Moore "Under the weight of a cosmic promise, fate is invincible. It hides like stars in daylight. But if one could see through the veil, they could find the star they were looking for. They could follow it blindly over a thousand horizons, and pray in earnest that it followed them blindly in turn. For stars are very powerful things, and fate often has ideas of its own." -The Preamble Chapter One Ayoka Kanoska fumbled with her hair ribbon, pulling her dark brown hair back in a ponytail as she ran down the hall. She knew she wasn't allowed to run, but the fear of arriving late to class was so much worse. Already, the halls were nearly empty, and other stragglers like her were ducking into classrooms as quickly as they could. But just as Ayoka got to her room, a chime sounded - a single note echoing through the halls - and her hand froze on the doorknob. Only a second late... but she was late nonetheless. Another second passed. Two seconds late. And then a third. Three. Ayoka took a deep breath and pushed through her anxiety, clicking open the doorknob and stepping into the classroom. The door was at the front of the room, and a dozen eyes all turned to face her as she entered. "Nice of you to join us, Aya," Mr. Margo said from behind his desk. "And untidily dressed, to boot." "I, um..." Aya quickly started to tuck her shirt into her skirt with shaky fingers. "I overslept..." "I'm disappointed," Mr. Margo said plainly, then nodded toward Aya's desk. "Take your seat." "Yes sir," Aya muttered, tears filling her eyes. She walked around the small row of desks until she got to hers. There were only five other students in the class, all of whom would sometimes flicker their gaze in her direction. Aya took her seat and felt sickness filling up her stomach, like a hurricane of self-loathing and bile. Disappointed... Aya was quiet for most of the class. It was math. She was good at math, though nothing at the Academy was particularly challenging. It felt like middle school courses, at best. Maybe even elementary, which certainly matched their uniforms. At the end of the hour, another chime rang and her classmates all got up from their chairs. On their way to the door, they stopped by Mr. Margo's desk to pick up a set of stickers. But when Aya approached, he didn't hand her anything at all. "No stickers today," he said calmly. "None?" Aya felt her heart sink. That was unacceptable. The hurricane in her stomach churned violently. "You were late. You were underdressed. And you didn't participate in class. What would I reward you for?" "But I set my alarm, I swear..." Aya felt tears in her eyes again. The little bell clock on every student’s nightstand had a switch on the back to turn the alarm on and off. Aya checked hers every night before bed, but this morning it was turned off. "Maybe it was a prank, maybe someone’s going around—" "Everyone else was here on time," Mr. Margo said, a touch of irritation in his voice. The tone felt like sandpaper against Aya's cheek, like she'd been slapped. She blinked hard and tears slid down to her chin. "Please, I... I can't..." With a sigh, Mr. Margo leaned forward in his chair and looked at his student. His face was full of quiet contemplation. "Do you need to take a hall pass?" he asked. "N-no. I'm fine, I'm fine..." Aya wiped the tears from her eyes. If she took a hall pass, she wouldn't get any stickers for the whole day! That was too costly. "Well, I'll write you one anyway. You can use it as you please." Mr. Margo took a pad out of his desk drawer and wrote out a little note before giving it to Aya. She looked down at it with defeat and tucked it into the pocket of her skirt. "Thank you, Mr. Margo," Aya muttered, stepping out of the classroom and into the busy hallway. She walked automatically to her next class; it had become so routine. But all the while, she couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. "Aya," Ms. Martens said sternly. Second hour had only just begun and already Aya was struggling to pay attention. "We’re studying planets, but that doesn’t mean you have an excuse to be a little space cadet. Try to focus." Compared to Mr. Margo, Ms. Martens was a nightmare. She was a very stern teacher and she certainly looked the part, dressed in pointed shoes, a tight bun of brown hair, and horn-rimmed glasses. "I’m…I’m s-sorry, Ms. Martens," Aya stammered, holding back tears. She could feel them in the corners of her eyes like red hot pokers. "Please get in pairs and work on your planet worksheet," Ms. Martens said, handing out three pieces of paper, each with a diagram of the solar system. The class split into the same three pairs they always did, which put Aya with Summer. "I can't believe you were late," Summer whispered, filling in Mars with red crayon. "Me neither," Aya muttered, picking out a yellow crayon to color in Venus. "Do you know how many stickers Emily got in math?" "Three, I think," Summer said cautiously. "But you really shouldn't worry about her." Of course Aya worried about her. Emily was just a few stickers behind Aya ever since the start of the term. Aya had worked so hard not to slip up and let her get ahead, and now this... "Wait, is Pluto still a planet?" Aya asked, trying to think about anything but math class. "There are definitely nine on this sheet." "Maybe they changed it again since we were abducted?" Summer suggested, about as delicately as a stone through a car window. "It's been a year..." A school year, Aya mentally amended. When she arrived, it was hot and sticky. The leaves changed colors. Snow settled for a while. Then there were flowers and birds and lots of rain. The nostalgia of summer was palpable, like she could feel the end of spring. The end of the Academy, maybe? How long until they were allowed to go home? "Aya," Ms. Martens called from the front of the room. "Come here, please." "Yes, ma'am." Aya got up without a thought and hurried to the front of the room. What was this about? "Hands on the desk," Ms. Martens instructed. Aya did just that. She knew what was happening even before Ms. Martens lifted the seat of her skirt, flashing the seat of her diaper to the entire room. A blush filled Aya's cheeks. Though it had become so routine, she still felt a deep embarrassment when her classmates - or anyone - would see her diapers. "Wet your diaper," Ms. Martens instructed. Aya did just that, or at least she tried to. When she first got to the Academy, she would never have done it. Then, after she got over herself, she couldn't do it for a long while. But after so many months, wetting herself on command was second nature. It was as automatic as walking from one classroom to the next. But what little bit she managed to dribble out between her legs didn't even change the tint of the white plastic. Aya had woken up so late that she didn’t have time to get breakfast before class, and that meant she didn’t have her usual glass of morning juice. She also forgot to go to the drinking fountain between classes, lost in her thoughts about Emily and her stickers. And Aya - like every student at the Academy - was a bedwetter, and never had to go in the mornings anymore. Plus, the teachers didn’t usually make her do this until third period, or even after lunch! "Go on," Ms. Martens urged, a deep annoyance in her voice that made Aya sick with anxiety. Aya tried to force herself, to push and strain, but that only made it harder. Panic rose in her chest and she balled her hands on the edge of the desk. The hurricane in her stomach churned and, before Aya knew what was happening, a loud fart heralded the filling of her diaper. Her knees quivered and Aya held onto the desk for support as she pushed more and more of her mess into the seat of her crinkly underwear, until it sagged down between her thighs. When it was over, when she could focus on something other than the sensation of mushing her diaper for the hundredth time, she heard the snickering of her classmates and the disapproving tsk of Ms. Martens's tongue. Tears filled Aya's eyes, torn apart by the humiliation and the disappointment. "Oh my moon and stars," Ms. Martens gasped, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I’m certain I asked for you to wet your diaper, not make a big stinky mess of it." The admonishment was hard to hear, and the giggling of her classmates made it even worse. But when Ms. Martens reached under the crest of Aya’s diaper and smushed her mess against her butt, it pushed Aya over the edge. Water broke free from her tear ducts and spilled down her cheeks. Everything was going wrong, and before Aya could stop herself she started to defend herself to her teacher. "I’m so so so sorry, Ms. Martens, I’m sorry! I did wet, I did. It wasn’t just that very much, I swear! Please, pretty please I’m sorry, I’m a good girl!" The class fell quiet, and all eyes fell on the teacher. There was nothing so blasphemous as declaring oneself to be good. "You're good?" Ms. Martens asked sharply. It felt like knives on Aya's skin, and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. She could hardly breathe. "You don't make that judgement, Ayoka. I do. And this was absolutely not 'good girl' behavior." "I'm sorry, I..." "Silence," Ms. Martens said, louder than Aya had ever spoken in her life. Like a spell, Aya reached her shaking hand into her skirt pocket, reaching past the hall pass, and pulling out her pacifier. It was bigger than anything meant for a baby, with a pink guard, and the words "Mute Button" printed on the button. She put it into her mouth without protest, effectively silencing her cries. Tears continued down her cheeks in torrents, but none of the whimpering was audible. Aya heard footsteps as Ms. Martens walked around. She heard a few clicks. Muttering from her classmates. More footsteps. Then the next thing she heard was a loud crack as a long ruler came down sharply on the backs of her upper thighs. There was a special kind of squealing that was really only possible when an oversized pacifier was in the mouth of an adult; a muffled, broken sound, kind of like a yelp or a squeak, interrupted halfway through the high note. That was what Aya sounded like as the ruler hit the back of her thighs. She squealed, whimpered, and blubbered, but the pacifier made it all sound so muffled and muted - not like the crystal clear cracks of the ruler against her skin. "I’ve never been so disappointed, Ayoka, never in all my years." Those words hurt so much more than the ruler did, and Aya would have begged for a thousand more strikes against her skin to have them undone, to have that poisonous toxic taste in her mouth washed away. It was only after a few swats with the ruler when Ms. Martens asked: "Have you been punished enough, Ayoka?" Aya shook her head desperately. She wanted more. She wanted more hits on her thigh; she wanted everyone to see how full her diaper was. She wanted to cry and sob and sulk and beg. She wanted to be a good girl. She needed to be a good girl. Ms. Martens needed to praise her. And Aya would do anything to get it. Ms. Martens was done after twenty smacks with the ruler, though Aya had lost count around six or seven. She was blubbering on the desk, soaking the polished wood with her tears, as her knees shook. Her burning red thighs and the full seat of her diaper were both on display for the class, but no one was laughing anymore. Everything was silent. "Go sit down," Ms. Martens commanded. Without an ounce of hesitation, Aya went back to her seat. She sat down in her mess, squishing against her butt and filling the area with a familiar smell of dirty diaper. Her thighs stung against the plastic chair, but she didn't yelp. She sucked noiselessly on her pacifier and continued to cry. Everyone went back to work. One other person - Alex - was called to the front of the room. His shorts were tugged to his ankles and he was instructed to wet his diaper. He did, soaking through the padding until the seat of his crinkly behind was discolored halfway up his butt. With a 'good boy' and a diaper pat, he pulled up his shorts and was sent back to his seat. Aya watched with burning envy and the sickness inside her grew worse. The voice in her head was back, telling her how incompetent she was. Pathetic. Useless. She couldn't even follow a basic instruction. When class ended, Alex got three stickers. Emily got two. And once again, Aya got none. She stood in front of Ms. Martens's desk with a blank stare, unable to meet her gaze. "Get cleaned up," Ms. Martens said. "I'll send word to your next class that you'll be late." Aya knew she wouldn't get in trouble this time, not with a teacher's word on her side, but it still felt like a failure. Another tardy class. Aya walked absently down the hall, toward the changing rooms. The full diaper between her thighs forced her to waddle. She wasn't crying, but drying tears still stuck to her cheeks. Her pacifier was still placed firmly between her lips, and she knew she wasn't allowed to remove it until one of the staff pulled it out. Maybe the nurse would be so kind.

Quick preamble: I was reading a story on Sofurry called Dedicated Diaperbitch (https://sofurry.com/s/pnGpANg1) in which a male wolf takes his slightly younger diaper-loving fox boyfriend to an orgy with three other male wolves where the fox becomes part of the pack by letting them all have sex with him. At one point, one of the other wolves mentions, "treating his pet well," and I thought, "Wait, does every wolf in this country have a diapered fuck-fox?" On further reflection, the other wolf's pet wasn't necessarily diapered, but anyways, it inspired me to make a story about a country where every wolf has a diapered fuck-fox, and somehow that situation isn't completely terrible. (Although if you're a fox who's just visiting...) Chapter 1 “And where's your wolf?” The vixen customs official asked. Tarkik considered himself a faithful fox. He was a heterosexual male, but he could appreciate the beauty of a vixen, even a red fox like this one and not an arctic fox like himself, without being tempted into infidelity against his wife and their two kits. He was, however, having trouble processing what the customs official had said because she was wearing a lanyard around her neck with her ID card attached, a disposable baby diaper that was quite visibly wet, and absolutely nothing else. “I'm sorry, what was that?” He asked. “As a fox, you're legally half a person,” the mostly-naked customs officer said. “The other half of your person is your wolf, who must accompany you at all times. I can't let you through without your wolf. Where is he?” There had been two seats on each side of the aisle of the train he had just arrived on, one large and one small. Tarkik had sat in one of the small ones and a caribou had taken the large one. In every other pair of seats, the small one had been occupied by a red fox and the large one by a wolf. He hadn't found anything suspicious about that at the time. He looked back at the line of travelers he was now holding up. Every fox was holding paws with a wolf of the same sex. Sometimes when the line stopped, a fox took the opportunity to remove all of their clothes until they were wearing only a disposable baby diaper before giving all the clothes to the wolf, who stashed them in a shoulder bag. Many of the foxes had already done this. Tarkik looked back at the customs officer, trying hard to focus on her face and not her diaper, or her exposed nipples. “I don't have one.” “Did you not research the laws of Wolfoxia before planning this trip?” She asked. “My former manager was supposed to come on this trip. He left the company on short notice and I was promoted into his position, so I inherited the trip.” “And he's neither a wolf nor a fox?” “He is a snowshoe hare.” The fully dressed wolf bitch in the same booth finished helping a wolf and fox combo at the window on the other side and came over to join Tarkik and the near-naked fox instead of beckoning another pair over. “So it's pretty obvious,” she said, “that when the constitution says, ‘fox,’ what it means is, ‘red fox who lived in the nation of Wolfia or Foxia, or the new nation resulting from their merger.’ But it doesn't say that, it says, ‘fox,’ and you're definitely a fox, and we have to enforce the law as written. How long is your business trip?” “Two weeks,” Tarkik answered. “That is technically long enough to make a federal case of it, but you might not have any time left for business, and it's really your company's responsibility since they sent you on the trip.” “So what should I do?” Tarkik asked. The topless vixen slid his passport back to him and pointed to a door. “Why don't you wait in the secondary inspection area while we process everyone else from the train, and we'll try to figure something out?” Tarkik took his passport and walked toward the door, dragging his rollaboard suitcase behind him, thankful it would give him a respite from looking at the vixen’s nudity. Tarkik laid on a bench in the secondary inspection room. He hadn't been able to reach anyone at his company by telephone and he didn't think he should call his wife and risk waking the girls when it would worry her without her being able to do anything, so he'd been trying to take a nap for about twenty minutes when the bitch and vixen entered. Changing the vixen's wet diaper had clearly not been a priority for them, which made Tarkik feel a little bit important. “We called your situation in to our head office, so if we're allowed to make an exception for you, they'll let us know,” the bitch said. “You're not in any trouble, but worst case, you'll have to sleep here and we'll send you home on the first train tomorrow.” “In the meantime,” the vixen continued, “you're probably curious about the wolf and fox thing.” “I'll be honest,” Tarkik replied, “I'm more curious why you're naked except for a diaper.” “It's the same reason,” the bitch said. “Okay, so a few decades ago, Wolfia was about to perform a sneak attack against Foxia. Foxian intelligence found out, and Foxia’s leaders contacted Wolfia’s military leadership and asked what it would take to end the war with no casualties.” “To be clear,” the vixen added, “Foxia had better technology. It thought it would win, but with many casualties on both sides. They wanted to know what those lives were paying for.” “Right,” the bitch continued. “Of course Wolfia thought it would win too, so the military leaders asked for everything. The first one figured they'd enslave every surviving fox, so they said, ‘Foxes will work for wolves.’ The second figured, ‘why not make the foxes sex slaves too?’ So they said, ‘Wolves can fuck foxes whenever they want.’ and the third... well, the best speculation is they wanted to humiliate the foxes, so they said, ‘Foxes will wear and use diapers, and they can't wear anything on top of them.’” “Presumably except for when they were being raped by wolves as part of proposal number two,“ the vixen interjected. “Oh, sure,” the bitch agreed. “I actually think the third wolf figured there was no way Foxia would accept the first two, so why not be absurd?” “I don't think any of them thought Foxia would accept, so they weren't careful with their wording,” the vixen said. “Obviously they weren't going to agree to what Wolfia meant, but what they did was announce to the surrounding countries, and they hacked Wolfia’s TV and radio stations to announce it there as well, that they had agreed to merge with Wolfia under some conditions Wolfia had proposed. First, foxes and wolves would be paired up by sex, as closely as possible by career and family, and the pairs would remain in each other's presence at all times.” “They had to avoid the foxes being sold, or trucked off to labor camps, or even left at home to do domestic labor,” the bitch chimed in. “It was possible a wolf would try to make their fox do their job, but would you hire a wolf to get their fox's labor when you could get a wolf and fox who would work together?” “Second, a fox is assumed to consent to sex with their wolf at all times,” the vixen continued. “You couldn't have wolves prostituting their foxes out,” the wolf explained. “They figured most wolves wouldn't actually want sex slaves, and most of the ones who did were heterosexual. Since the pairs would also be same sex, this meant the wolves could have sex with a fox whenever they wanted like the demand said, but they probably wouldn't, and the damage from the rapiest wolves would be limited.“ “And third,” the vixen concluded, “foxes would wear and use diapers, could not wear clothes on top of them, and it would be the responsibility of their wolf to change their diapers.” “That one was too specific to get around,” the bitch said, “but they were pretty sure whoever suggested it either didn't have kids or wasn't involved in raising them. Like, someone was going to have to change those diapers, and it was pretty obviously going to be wolves if they actually wanted it to get done.” “So they announced this like it was a done deal?” Tarkik asked. “Well they had a recording of the demands,” the bitch said, “so they could justify that they were satisfying them, but also, the other nations thought Foxia was insane to accept those terms. None of them, nor Wolfia's civilians for that matter, knew the sneak attack was being planned. Wolfia would look really bad for prosecuting an undeclared war against a nation that had agreed to be annexed under such unfavorable terms.” “And then Foxia countered the sneak attack without talking about it, and Wolfia couldn't admit they tried to go through with it and failed, so they just pretended the whole thing really was their idea in the first place,” the vixen said. “And you're not embarrassed to be naked except for the diapers?” Tarkik asked the vixen? “Why would I be?” She asked. Then she crouched down a few inches and scrunched up her face, and Tarkik heard the flump of her soiling her diaper. Then she stood up like nothing had happened. “Do you need your diaper changed?” The bitch asked her. “Yes, please,” the vixen replied. “Would you like your pussy ate?” The bitch asked. “Yes, please,” the vixen replied. “We're going to get her cleaned up,” the bitch told Tarkik as though he hadn't heard them candidly discussing the cunnilingus that was also going to take place. “We'll be back as soon as we hear something from head office.” As they walked out of the room, Tarkik watched the tail of the vixen swish back and forth. Below it, the lump of mess pulling down the seat of her diaper swished back and forth as well. He was not sure he wanted them to hear good news from their head office. They returned about fifteen minutes later with the vixen wearing a clean diaper. “Head office has come up with a solution,” the vixen said. “Normally when a fox dies, their wolf will ask to be euthanized, or vice versa. There is a male wolf in the city who didn't do that. Head office got in touch with him, and he’s agreed to be your Temporary Wolf for the next two weeks. He's on his way here now.” Tarkik was slightly concerned about whether his company's security would approve of a stranger accompanying him in the building, but he supposed anyone can sign a nondisclosure agreement. Suddenly he had a more worrying thought. “I don't have to let him have sex with me, do I?” He asked. “No,” the bitch said. “I mean, at your age, if you'd been paired at birth you would. It turned out that wolves and their foxes love having sex with each other, or at least ones that were paired at birth do, so they didn't need to assume consent, but there were legitimate reasons for a fox to say no, like having a perforated colon.” “He did survive,” the vixen added, “and his wolf was devastated to have hurt him just because he felt like he couldn’t say no.” “Anyways, the constitution was amended a few years ago so there's no assumption of consent between a wolf and their fox for new pairs after that date, and that would apply to you.” Tarkik was so relieved, he didn't think to ask the obvious other question about the situation. About half an hour after that, a lone wolf arrived carrying a shoulder bag like the one the other traveling wolves had been carrying. He introduced himself as Moon, but was otherwise quiet and withdrawn. There was a photo booth in the inspection area, and the customs officials took a photo of each of them and printed a temporary ID card that had both of their pictures on it. With that in paw, they were able to return to the customs booth in the now empty entry hall and Tarkik got his passport stamped for entry. “Welcome to Wolfoxia,” the bitch said. “Thank you,” Tarkik said, appreciative of their explanations and how late they had probably stayed on account of him. Now he was eager to check into his hotel. He was pretty sure the reservation was by the room, not the occupant, so it wouldn't be a problem for Moon to stay with him, though he hadn’t made the reservation so he didn’t know what the bed sizes were. “By the way,” the vixen said, interrupting his train of thought and pointing at a door, “there's a washroom over there where your wolf can change you into a diaper.”

Chapter 1: The Wet Cloud was nothing like your normal business. Instead, it was something much more unique. On paper what the business did was simple, they babied people. But of course, just using the term babied wouldn’t be doing it justice. The employees of the Wet Cloud catered to each of their customers' needs. Whether it was changing their dirty diapers, dressing them in cute frilly clothes, treating them like a big baby, embarrassing them, serving them drinks, or just simply talking to them, they went to great lengths to baby their customers in whatever way they preferred. There was a wide range of tasks that the employees of the Wet Cloud would do for their customers. But all of these tasks were far from what would be considered “normal.” It wasn’t exactly common that someone’s job involved babying other adults and even changing their diapers. After all, only babies should wear diapers, right? And everyone should be completely potty trained far before they become an adult, right? But of course, that wasn’t always the case. Working at the Wet Cloud was a very specific job, but it was a job that each of the six girls who worked there had no problems with. As the Wet Cloud was a very unique business, it acquired some very unique employees. There was of course the owner of the Wet Cloud, Ruby, a short but confident girl who kept the business running no matter what. There was Alice, a taller, accident prone girl who always seemed to be in a good mood and someone never got embarrassed. Skye, a shy and quite stinky girl who always wants the best for everyone around her. Liora, the princess of Roglace who has somehow found herself working at the Wet Cloud babying others. And Lily, the newest hire who is always quite curious about those who want to be babied and why they decide to come to the Wet Cloud. But there was also one other employee who didn’t fit into the group as well as everyone else. It wasn’t that she disliked her coworkers or disliked working at the Wet Cloud, but rather that when compared to everyone else, even the princess herself, she was a little different. Currently standing behind the counter in the brightly colored main room of the Wet Cloud, was a girl wearing a light purple shirt with frilly sleeves and a large bow in the middle of it. Along with the shirt, this girl also wore a dark purple skirt that slightly hid the bulky white diaper she was wearing underneath of it. Standing only lightly taller than Ruby at 5 foot 1 inch tall, with short black hair and blue eyes, was a girl named Mira. And she currently had an annoyed look on her face, as she waited for her shift to finally finish. Her coworker Lily had called out for the day, as she had something urgent to attend to, so Mira was left to work alone all day. This luckily wasn’t a problem, as it was a rather slow day, meaning that Mira didn’t need any help. So she worked alone that day in the main room of the Wet Cloud, while her boss Ruby worked in the back like she usually did. As the time continued to tick by, it finally hit 6:00 PM, meaning that the Wet Cloud was closed for the day and Mira could finally head home. “Hm… slow day huh?” Ruby said casually, as she walked into the main room. “Guess so, not many customers today.” Mira responded in a monotone voice with a shrug, as all she really cared about was getting back home. “Well you're free to go for the day, I have some stuff I need to finish up in my office, so I’ll be there if you need me.” Ruby said, as she walked back out of the room. “Finally.” Mira groaned with a sigh, as she stretched her arms. While she did like working at the Wet Cloud, she still got sick of it from time to time. Even if she liked her job, it was still a job at the end of the day. Mira then quickly gathered her belongings, as she didn’t want to stay any longer than she had to. But before leaving, she walked toward the bathroom before shutting the door behind her and then changing herself into some more normal clothes. Just like most of the girls who worked at the Wet Cloud, Mira wore a particularly babyish outfit while working. It was an outfit Mira found quite embarrassing, as the diaper she wore was barely even hidden by her short skirt. She might as well have not even been wearing a skirt at all with how revealed her diaper was. While some of her coworkers like Ruby, Alice, and Skye wore babyish clothes all the time, even in public as they just opted to ignore the odd glances people gave them, Mira wasn’t the same. Mira only wore babyish clothes and diapers when she worked, as she made sure to never wear them in public. Mira respected that they were able to wear such clothes in public, but she would be found dead doing the same. It wasn’t like she particularly liked the look of the babyish clothes or actually needed diapers like some of them did, she just wore them when she worked to better fit in with the aesthetic of the Wet Cloud. And now with her shift over, MIra had no more reason to be wearing such embarrassing clothes. So she then changed out of her babyish clothes and diaper, before putting on a simple dark purple hoodie along with a longer black skirt, this time with no diaper underneath of it. She then put the babyish clothes in her bag before she left the bathroom and walked out the front door of the Wet Cloud. “Took long enough.” Mira murmured to herself, as she stepped outside and stretched her arms once again. Now after a long day of work, Mira wanted nothing more than to go back to her apartment and rest. But unfortunately for her, she still had something else she had to do. As she lived alone it was her responsibility to keep her apartment clean and stocked with all the supplies she needed from day to day. And recently she had been running pretty low on food in her fridge, meaning she needed to go to a grocery store to get more. So instead of walking back to her apartment after work like she usually did, she started to walk in a different direction towards her nearest grocery store. As both the Wet Cloud and her apartment were located within the city, Mira didn’t own a car, as she opted to just walk anywhere she needed to go. This led to her having to walk quite a lot from day to day, but Mira had no problems with that, as walking alone always gave her some nice alone time. After about thirty minutes of walking, Mira arrived at her closest grocery store. The store wasn’t anything special, but it had everything she needed. So she walked inside and then started to collect the things she needed to stock up on. Mira did this rather mindlessly, as she really just wanted to go home and not be bothered with anything else. After getting everything she needed, Mira then went to one of the self check out counters and waited in line to pay for her items and finally get home. She initially waited patiently, as the line slowly dwindled down and there was now only one other person in line in front of her. While Mira didn’t consider herself an impatient person, she was certainly getting annoyed with how slowly the person in front of her seemed to be scanning her items. The person in front of her stood at six feet tall and was wearing a black hoodie and a dark purple skirt, as she slowly scanned her items one by one. While Mira couldn’t see this person's face as she had the hood of her hoodie up, Mira was getting increasingly annoyed with her. This person seemed to really be taking her time and Mira just wanted to finally get home. “A-Achoo!” The girl sneezed loudly, as she wiped off her face. “Ugh… c-come on.” The same girl mumbled in a scratchy voice, as she returned to slowly scanning her items. Mira saw this girl sneeze and quickly realized that this girl must have been sick. While she felt a little bad for her, she still just wanted this girl to finish up so she could pay for her items and go home. “That’s… ugh… yeah t-that’s everything.” The girl mumbled out loud again in the same scratchy voice, as she scanned her last item and paid for everything she bought. The girl then took a step forward toward her groceries, as she planned on picking them up and then leaving. But as she did, she slightly stumbled forward before immediately tripping and starting to fall to the ground. This annoyed Mira once again, but Mira was no monster. Before this girl hit the ground, Mira quickly stepped forward and grabbed the girl's arms, pulling her back up to her feet as she did. “H-Huh?” The girl frantically mumbled, as Mira grabbed her arm and saved her from falling to the ground. “Watch your step.” Mira said bluntly, as she finally got a glance at the girl in front of her. But as Mira finished talking, her eyes immediately widened as she realized who she was talking to. The sick girl did the same thing, as her expression instantly changed as she looked back at Mira. “M-Mira?” The girl said in a surprised tone with a similarly surprised expression across her face. “Huh? Violet?” Mira said in a confused voice. Looking back at Mira under her hood, was the famous pop star “Twinkle Violet”. Violet was one of the most popular singers in the entire nation of Roglace with millions of adoring fans scattered all throughout it. It was odd for someone of Violet’s popularity to know a girl like Mira, but the two of them did actually know each other somewhat well. This is because Violet was a repeat customer of the Wet Cloud. A few times Violet had gone to the Wet Cloud and each time Mira was the specific person she went to, to get babied. So while the two girls weren’t exactly friends, Mira had seen and directly put Violet in some quite compromising positions before. But of course they only ever interacted with each other at the Wet Cloud, with Violet being the customer and Mira being the employee. This was one of the first times they had ever seen each other in a different setting. “U-Uh… thanks for c-catching me.” Violet mumbled with an awkward blush, as she got back to her feet. “Eh, yeah… whatever.” Mira said in a similarly awkward voice. Neither of them really knew what to say to each other, as their relationship was rather strange. They weren’t really friends, but they knew each other better than acquaintances would. “I’ll uh… get going now.” Violet nervously mumbled, as she started to walk away from Mira. But it only took a few more off balance steps for Violet to trip once again. With another slight sigh, Mira stepped forward and quickly grabbed Violet’s hand in the same fashion as before. “What a baby…” Mira muttered with a smirk, as she helped Violet back to her feet once. “Eh? N-No… d-don’t…” Violet said with a blush, as she clearly got embarrassed by getting called a baby. Even if she wasn’t currently at the Wet Cloud, being called a baby certainly reminded Violet of when she was. “Relax, it’s not like I’m working right now.” Mira said bluntly in response, as she noticed Violet blush. “I know but… umm… it's just…” Violet mumbled nervously, as she wasn’t able to really describe her embarrassment. Mira knew from her past interactions with Violet that while Violet liked to be babied, she really wanted that part of herself to be kept a secret. Mira of course understood this, as someone with as much fame as Violet would probably want to keep that embarrassing interest of hers away from her adoring fans. So the two of them interacting like this was a bit strange, as to Violet, it was almost like the part of herself that she hid away was coming into her usual day to day life. “Here… I’ll help you get your things.” Mira said bluntly, as she quickly paid for her own items, before grabbing some of Violet’s for her. “U-Uh you really don’t have too…” Violet mumbled nervously in a still scratchy voice. “It’s fine, I don’t really care.” Mira said firmly, as she helped Violet pick up her things. “Oh, t-thanks… M-Mira…” Violet mumbled nervously, as she felt a little odd with Mira helping her do such a simple task. “Yeah yeah… just tell me where to put these.” Mira said in the same firm tone. Mira could tell Violet was acting a little off compared to how she usually did. And Mira could only assume that along with the obvious fact that Violet was sick, it was because seeing Mira in a public setting embarrassed her. This wasn’t a surprise to Mira, as she certainly didn’t go easy on Violet when she babied her. Violet liked being babied a little more forcefully than most customers did, and Mira was more than willing to baby her just like that. So she only assumed that when Violet interacted with her, Violet associated her with all of those babyish things. Mira then followed Violet out of the grocery store and into the store's large parking lot. Unlike Mira, it seemed that Violet drove herself to the store. Mira then walked over to Violet’s car and helped her pack away her things. “T-Thanks… A-Achoo!” Violet mumbled, as she sneezed once again. “Sick huh?” Mira asked, as she already knew the answer to her question. “Ugh… y-yeah I’ve been sick for the last week or two.” Violet mumbled in a scratchy voice, clearly not in a good mood. “So that’s why I haven’t seen you…” Mira said, as she hadn’t seen Violet at the Wet Cloud in a few weeks. “Umm… y-yes.” Violet mumbled awkwardly, as even the mention of where they usually saw each other made her blush. “A-Anyway… thanks for… f-for the help.” Violet mumbled, as she started to slowly enter her car, her body still moving very slowly as she did. “Uh, you really think you should be driving right now?” Mira asked in a concerned voice. “I… I’ll be… f-fin- Achoo!” Violet mumbled, as she sneezed again, her body shaking a little as she did. “Sure you are.” Mira said sarcastically, as she rolled her eyes. “It’s just a little cold… I’m fine… r-reall- A-Achoo!” Violet mumbled, as she sneezed again. As Mira saw Violet continually sneeze as she moved slowly and seemed off balance, she quickly decided that Violet was in no state to drive herself home. “Ugh… come on Violet, you're going to get yourself killed if you try to drive right now.” Mira said in an annoyed voice, as it seemed like Violet didn’t understand how sick she was. “W-Well…” Violet mumbled, as she agreed with Mira, but it wasn’t like she had any other way to get herself home. “Here, how about I drive you back?” Mira casually offered. “W-What? N-No! I… um… uh…” Violet mumbled frantically, as this offer clearly made her embarrassed. “Come on, don’t be a big baby about it.” Mira teased with a smirk, as she knew Violet needed the help. “E-Eh? B-But I… uh… uh, o-okay.” Violet mumbled, as she finally agreed. She didn’t exactly want someone to help her get home, but she knew that it was probably for the best. “Took you long enough.” Mira said bluntly. Mira then got in the driver's side of Violet’s car, as Violet took the passenger seat. “So… where do you live?” Mira asked in the same blunt tone. “Over… over here.” Violet said, as she pointed out her address on a map with a blush. Violet felt a little embarrassed giving Mira this much information about herself, as she also tried to keep the knowledge of where she lived a secret from most people. “Okay, got it.” Mira said confidently. She then started up the car and started to drive, as Violet sat in the passenger seat with a blush still across her face. Mira did feel a little weird driving the car of someone she really had only ever seen at work, but at the same time she just wanted Violet to be okay. Then after a few minutes of driving, Mira looked over at the passenger seat, to see that Violet had fallen asleep. “Heh… yeah, knew it.” Mira said out loud, as her suspicions that Violet shouldn’t have been driving were confirmed. After a little more driving, Mira reached the address Violet had given her. Located at the address was a fairly large house, which Mira could only assume belonged to the one and only “Twinkle Violet.” Mira was initially quite surprised at how fancy the house looked, but as she thought about how popular and likely wealthy Violet was, it made sense that she could afford such a nice looking house. Mira then parked the car in the house's driveway before turning her attention to Violet who was still currently asleep in the passenger seat. “You passed out pretty fast.” Mira said with a sigh, as she nudged Violet in an attempt to wake her up. “U-Uh… Uw-we?” Violet mumbled incoherently with her eyes still closed. “Come on… wake up. You really can be such a baby sometimes.” Mira teased, as she nudged her again, this time with a little more force. But as Mira did, Violet just mumbled again, as it seemed like the girl was still deep asleep. “She’s really out of it.” Mira said out loud with an annoyed expression. This put Mira in an odd situation, as she really did want to make sure Violet got back into her house safely, but she didn’t want to go into Violet's house without her permission. Driving her car was one thing, but entering her house was pushing it a little. After thinking about it for a few minutes, Mira made up her mind. “She probably has a roommate, right? I doubt she lives alone in a house this big, so I guess they could help her out once she gets to the door.” Mira thought to herself. Mira then got out of Violet’s car before walking around to the passenger seat and picking Violet up into her hands. This wasn’t the first time Mira held Violet, as Violet did like to be held sometimes when she was being babied at the Wet Cloud. But this time was a little different, as Mira felt weird holding Violet while she wasn’t conscious. Although, this also wasn’t the only time Mira had been put in a spot where she had to hold Violet while Violet was asleep. There was little Mira could do to help this, so she just shrugged it off and took Violet to her house’s front door. Normally it would be quite difficult for someone like Mira to hold a girl like Violet who was almost a whole foot taller than her, but Mira was stronger than she looked and found holding Violet to actually be mostly effortless. So, Mira then walked up to the house’s front door and knocked on it, hoping someone would answer. But after no response and a few more repeated knocks at the door, Mira concluded that no one else was home. “Ugh… well… you probably have a key on you, right?” Mira said out loud, as she turned her head toward Violet. But even after hearing the sound from the loud knocks and being held by Mira, Violet seemed to still be dead asleep. “Ehh…” Mira grumbled in an annoyed voice, as she realized Violet wasn’t waking up anytime soon. Mira didn’t particularly want to go searching Violet for her house key, but at this point she had no choice. She then reached into Violet’s pocket, hoping to find her key. And after searching around her phone, wallet, and everything else she had her pocket, Mira found a small key ring. Then with a slight sigh of relief, she then used the key to unlock the door and entered the house with Violet still in her hands. “Anyone home?” Mira loudly called out, as she entered the house. But once again she was met with no response as it seemed like no one else really was home. “I guess I should find someplace to lay her down.” Mira thought to herself, as she looked around at the interior of Violet’s house. And as soon as Mira started to look around, someone became very apparent to her, Violet’s house was a complete mess. The house was still very nice looking on the inside in a similar way to how it looked on the outside, but there were lots of random objects, clothes, and trash scattered around the floor, as the house didn’t seem well kept at all. This confused Mira, as she didn’t think Violet was a particularly messy person. But she just tried to ignore the mess, as she walked further into the house in an attempt to find Violet's bedroom. After walking through a few more rooms, including some that seemed oddly empty, she found what she could only assume was Violet’s bedroom. It was a large room with lots of brightly colored pink and purple objects within it. There was a large bed with pink sheets on it, a dark purple desk with what seemed like pages of song lyrics messily laid all around it, some fancy looking awards displayed on the walls, what seemed like a recording microphone, and a dresser full of sparkly looking clothing. After realizing she found the right room, Mira walked over to Violet’s bed before gently placing Violet onto it. “Finally…” Mira mumbled to herself. She then put a blanket over Violet before trying to figure out what to do next. At this point Mira really wanted nothing more than to finally get back to her apartment, as it had now been quite a while since her shift had ended and she got side tracked helping Violet. But with everything that had just happened, Mira was starting to get a bit concerned. While Mira didn’t know Violet that well, she at least knew that Violet was normally a very healthy person. As a pop star Violet had to constantly be performing and practicing, so she had to have a lot of energy and always be pushing herself. With that kind of routine, Mira knew that a simple cold shouldn’t have been too hard on Violet’s immune system. But that’s not what Mira had noticed, as with Violet's sluggish movements, scratchy voice, constant sneezing, being off balance, and having seemingly no energy, Violet was clearly in a pretty bad position. And as Mira noticed no one else was around to help Violet out, she knew she couldn’t just leave her alone. While whatever disease she had didn’t seem to be life threatening, she knew Violet needed someone to help her out. So with another annoyed sigh, Mira decided to stick around at least until Violet woke up once again. And hopefully after she knew Violet was healthy enough to be by herself, she would finally be able to head home. A few hours later, Violet woke up in a cold sweat. “Huh? W-What?” Violet mumbled to herself, her throat still feeling sore, as she looked around at her surroundings. Her memories seemed fuzzy, as she didn’t remember going to sleep in her bed. She remembered going to the grocery store to try to get some cold medicine, but then her memory seemed to cut off. “How did I… A-Achoo!” Violet mumbled, as she sneezed again. Despite her long rest, it seemed that she wasn’t any less sick than before she went to sleep. “You finally awake?” A familiar voice called out from the other room. “W-What?” Violet mumbled in a confused state, as she still didn’t understand what was going on or who was talking to her. Then after the sound of some footsteps approaching Violet’s bedroom, her door opened and Mira walked into the room. “Took you long enough.” Mira said bluntly, as she saw that Violet had finally woken up after being asleep for a while. “M-Mira? What are you… W-Why are you… in my h-house?” Violet anxiously stuttered in surprise, as she sat up in bed and more of her memories finally came back to her. She remembered running into Mira at the grocery store and Mira offering to drive her home. But right around then her memory cut off again. “Well… you fell asleep while I was driving you back home. And you wouldn’t respond when I tried to wake you up. So I had to… you know, let myself in.” Mira said with a slight smirk. “I… fell asleep? I guess that would explain things.” Violet said with a sigh, as she finally realized how she got back home. But then suddenly she blushed, as she had a sudden realization. “W-Wait… so if you took me home. Did you… c-carry me here?” Violet asked with a blush. “Hehe, it’s not like I had much of a choice, unless I wanted to leave you in your car.” Mira responded with the same smirk as before. “W-Wha… b-but I… you…” Violet mumbled with a blush now completely across her face. “It’s not like this is the first time I’ve held you.” Mira said with a shrug, as she had held Violet during her time at the Wet Cloud. “I k-know… but this is different… it’s just… A-Achoo!” Violet mumbled before sneezing once again. “You really don’t look so good.” Mira said, as she walked closer to Violet’s bed, this time with a more concerned expression. “I… I’m n-not… A-Achoo!” Violet said in a scratchy voice, before sneezing once again. “Seems like it…” Mira said, as she scratched the back of her head. Then there was a little pause, where neither girl spoke. But eventually, Violet broke the awkward silence between them. “H-Hey… Mira? I appreciate you… driving me back and everything. But umm, why are you still here? Don’t you have things to do? I don’t want to waste your time.” Violet asked softly. “Well yeah, I do. I planned to leave after I brought you back, but I kind of assumed someone was helping take care of you. Don’t you have like… a roommate, or some friend you can call over to help?” Mira asked in a concerned voice. “Hm? I don’t have any roommates. And I usually don’t have anyone over either. Violet mumbled in a casual voice. “Eh? So you’ve just been taking care of yourself this entire time?” Mira asked in a surprised voice. In response, Violet just slowly nodded her head yes. “Violet… you said you’ve been sick for a week or two?” Mira asked bluntly. “Um… yeah, I think so?” Violet responded awkwardly. “And have you felt any better since getting sick?” Mira asked in the same blunt way. “No… not really.” Violet responded, as she thought about her condition. “Ugh, you’re hopeless, you know that?” Mira groaned, as she responded with a more emotional voice. “W-What?” Violet asked in a confused voice, unsure of why Mira seemed annoyed. “Violet, if I thought you were in a healthy enough state to be left by yourself, then I would have left by now, but you're clearly not.” Mira responded forcefully. “H-Huh? I’m not doing that bad… am I?” Violet responded with a concerned expression. “Want to find out?” Mira said with a devious smirk, before walking over to a bag on the floor that she had brought with her. Then after a little bit of searching around in the bag, she pulled out a thermometer. “Let’s see if Violet has a fever… I have a pretty good hunch she does.” Mira said, as she walked back over to Violet. “A thermometer? I’m really… not that bad, you don’t need to use that.” Violet mumbled. “Oh? You rather me use the one that goes in the other side?” Mira responded with a smirk. “W-What? T-The… the other side?” Violet said, as she blushed and imagined the other type of thermometer that Mira had in mind. Mira then took advantage of Violet's shocked reaction to bring the thermometer to Violet’s forehead and quickly read her temperature. “Eh?” Violet mumbled in surprise, as she saw Mira check her temperature. “103 degrees… yeah I thought as much. You have a fever and a pretty damn bad one at that.” Mira said with a sigh. “It’s not that bad… r-really… A-Achoo!” Violet said, as she sneezed once again. “Sure you are…” Mira said sarcastically, as she rolled her eyes. Mira was a little confused why Violet was in such denial about how sick she really was. She didn’t know Violet well enough to know if this denial was common for her or not, but it was something that Mira didn’t understand. “L-Listen Mira, I’m fine really. I really am-.” Violet said, as she suddenly flinched and stopped talking mid sentence. “What was that?” Mira asked, as she was a little confused why Violet cut herself off. “Oh n-nothing I just need to…” Violet mumbled, as she took the blanket off herself and stood up off of her bed. Her body immediately felt off balance as she stood up, but she tried her best to ignore it as she started to walk forward. “Uh, Violet?” Mira asked, as she saw Violet clearly struggling to walk in a straight line. “I’m f-fine… I jus-.” Violet mumbled, as she took another step forward and once against slipped on her front foot. “Ahh!” Violet yelped, as she started to fall. And just like at the grocery store, Mira quickly stepped forward and grabbed Violet’s hand before she hit the ground. “W-Wha? Wait no! S-Stop!” Violet anxiously mumbled in distress. “Huh?” Mira asked in a confused voice, unsure why Violet seemed so upset, as she caught her fall. But then before Mira could properly ask Violet what was wrong, she heard a very familiar sound. A sound that immediately answered Mira’s question. A hissing sound. Very quickly a wet spot started to appear on Violet’s purple skirt, as she started to pee herself. “W-Wha… n-no!” Violet incoherently mumbled, as she continued to pee, unable to hold any of it back. The wet spot on her skirt quickly grew, as her hoodie also started to grow wet. And soon enough, her pee started to leak right through her skirt and onto her legs, as it started to drip onto the floor and pool beneath her. “Uh…” Mira mumbled, as she didn’t know what to say. “A-Ah… S-Stop!” Violet anxiously said, as her body started to shake as she blushed a deep red. “V-Violet… H-Hey!” Mira said, as she tried to continue holding onto Violet’s hand, but Violet’s sudden shaking made it hard and her grip started to slip. “I… N-No… I… A-“ Violet continued to mumble, as she shook out of Mira’s grip. And then as soon as Violet did, she continued to fall once again, this time falling right down into a puddle of her own pee. With a slight splash, Violet fell right on her face, pee now drenching her whole body, as she continued to wet herself even further while on the ground. “N-No… No… d-don’t… P-Please don’t look at me.” Violet mumbled now with tears in her eyes, as she looked over at Mira, all while the hiss sound of her peeing continued. There then was a brief moment of very awkward silence where neither girl spoke. But after Mira stopped hearing the hissing sound from before, she spoke up again. “Yeah… yeah… I thought you were pretty sick, and I don’t think you can deny that anymore.” Mira said with a sigh, as she crouched down next to Violet. “P-Please… don’t look at me.” Violet mumbled again, as tears continued to run down her blushing face. “You know, for a pop star, you are really stupid sometimes.” Mira said bluntly with a blank expression. “E-Eh?” Violet responded in a confused tone, as she didn’t understand what Mira meant. “Come on Violet, I’ve seen you in plenty of more embarrassing positions than this.” Mira said with a slight smirk. “I… well… I guess so.” Violet said, as she was reminded of who exactly she was talking to. Lying on the floor covered in her own pee was extremely embarrassing, but it was true that Mira had seen her in plenty of more embarrassing and more babyish positions while at the Wet Cloud. “So… Do you want some help? You can say no if you want, I’m not forcing anything on you. But if you do…” Mira said in a casual tone. Violet wasn’t somebody who liked asking for help, but in this situation, she really needed some help. “Y-Yeah… Some help would be nice.” Violet mumbled as she continued to blush. “Finally…” Mira said with a happier smirk. Then without hesitation, Mira reached out her hands and picked up Violet just like she had when she brought her home. “Um… Violet mumbled awkwardly, as she felt her pee covered clothes stick to her body. “Heh, you always look pretty cute when you're embarrassed.” Mira teased, as she walked out of Violet’s room and into the bathroom while still holding her. Violet didn’t respond to the teasing, as she just blushed even more in response. Mira then gently laid Violet down on the bathroom floor. “I’ll get some new clothes to change you into.” Mira said bluntly, as she promptly left the bathroom in search of some clean clothes. As Mira did, she left the still pee soaked Violet laying alone on the bathroom floor, wondering how she got here. Violet lived a pretty unique life as one of the most popular pop stars in all of Roglace. She was constantly busy either performing to a large audience or preparing for her next performance. Her life tended to have very little down time, as there was always something else that needed to be done. She had a manager and a whole team behind her to help advertise the show, do the lighting, and get all the proper reservations done. But when it came to the music and Violet’s own singing, it was all up to her to put on a good show. Unlike many other pop stars or idol groups, Violet didn’t perform in a group. Rather, it was a one girl show all for her. While this did give Violet more freedom to perform exactly how she wanted to, it also meant that there was an immense amount of pressure on Violet whenever she performed, as she couldn’t afford to have an off day. But whenever she did have some down time, she did like to take it easy and enjoy the little things in life. And somehow, that led her to going to the Wet Cloud and meeting Mira. Although, Violet wouldn’t quite say her time at the Wet Cloud was ever really “relaxing.” For Violet, it was more for the thrill of it all. While Violet did certainly enjoy going to the Wet Cloud and being babied by Mira, it wasn’t like she was friends with Mira. Their relationship was mostly professional, with the only exception being when Violet invited Mira and one of her coworkers who was a fan of hers, Lily, to one of her concerts. But even then, it wasn’t like Violet was ever particularly close to either of them. And now she was laying on the ground, covered in sticky pee soaked clothes, as Mira was inside her house looking for clean clothes to change Violet into. This odd situation was just hard for Violet to wrap her head around. A few minutes later, Mira came back holding a soft light blue t-shirt and a dark blue skirt. “These seem good?” Mira asked bluntly, as she walked back into the room with the clothes. Violet blushed a little, as she knew that Mira must have looked through her closet to find those clothes, but she was still relieved that she would soon be out of her pee soaked clothes. “Y-Yeah… those look good.” Violet mumbled softly. “Nice nice… and, I brought something else that I think might… help you.” Mira said with a smirk. She then reached into her bag and pulled out a large white diaper before holding it up in the air. “E-Eh?” Violet flinched, as she saw the diaper in Mira’s hand. “M-Mira… I don’t… when I’m not at the Wet Cloud I don’t… need… A-Achoo.” Violet mumbled, before sneezing once again. “Relax, I know you’re not at the Wet Cloud right now, I don’t plan on embarrassing you or making you mess yourself if that’s what you’re wondering.” Mira said with a slight laugh. “I just think that… if you’re so sick you can’t always make it to the bathroom… you might as well wear one of these. So you don’t do… you know, that again.” Mira continued, as she gestured to Violet and the wet clothes she was still wearing with a smirk across her face. “B-But actually using a diaper like that… like a baby… it would be so embarrassing…” Violet mumbled. “Being embarrassed never stopped you before… and it’s either that or make some more… puddles.” Mira said with the same smirk. Violet blushed even more at that comment, but she had to admit that Mira wasn’t wrong. “F-Fine…” Violet mumbled, as she finally gave in to wearing the diaper. “Took you long enough.” Mira said, as she bent down next to Violet and immediately started to change her out of her wet clothes. Violet was of course extremely embarrassed that Mira was taking off her clothes and would see her in such a vulnerable state, but again it wasn’t anything that Mira hadn’t seen before while working at the Wet Cloud. After Violet’s wet clothes were off, Mira got out some wipes to help clean off Violet’s wet body. Violet couldn’t help but shiver a little at the wipe's cold touch, although deep down she was just glad to feel clean again after her “accident.” Now with Violet’s body cleaned up, Mira pulled out the white diaper, as she couldn’t help but crack a slight grin. Mira then slid the diaper under Violet before properly fitting it around her waist and then firmly taping the diaper in place. Mira then took a slight step backwards, and looked at Violet, as she admired her own work. “Heh, maybe I should just leave you only wearing the diaper, it really does suit you.” Mira teased with a slight laugh. “N-No! Come on… don’t tease me like that. At least… not now…” Violet whimpered, as she moved her legs and felt the thick diaper crinkle between them. Violet did like to be teased when she was at the Wet Cloud, but it was another story when she was in her own house. “Fine, I guess the pop star doesn’t want everyone to know her little secret.” Mira said, as she started to put the rest of the clothes on Violet. In response Violet just blushed further, as she hoped Mira would stop teasing her soon. After a little more time had passed, Mira had changed Violet into all of the clean clothes. And luckily for Violet, the clothes hide her diaper quite well. “That feels better…” Violet said with a sigh of relief, as she stood up once again. “Watch your step.” Mira said, as she stood nearby Violet, making sure she wouldn’t trip again. The two of them then walked back into Violet’s bedroom, where they both noticed the puddle of pee still on the floor. “Oh… right.” Violet groaned, as she blushed once again. “Hmm… should I clean it?” Mira asked in an annoyed voice, as she clearly didn’t want to, despite her offer. “N-No… you’ve uh done more than enough for me.” Violet said in an embarrassed tone, as she walked back over to her bed and laid down in it. “Eh, I just didn’t want you stuck laying in your own pee is all.” Mira said with a smirk as she shrugged. “Thank you…” Violet said softly, as she started to close her eyes. “Whatever.” Mira responded bluntly, as she didn’t think her help was really worth praise. “Hehe…” Violet responded with a faint laugh, as she kept her eyes closed. And then as Mira looked at Violet laying on her own bed, Mira could tell that the girl had just fallen asleep once again. This really shouldn’t have been a surprise to Mira, as she looked over at the time and realized it was now around midnight. “Looks like I’m staying here tonight.” Mira said with a sigh, as she didn’t want to walk home at this hour. And even if she wanted to, it was pretty obvious to her now that Violet shouldn’t be left alone in her current state. But Mira wasn’t too bothered about having to stay around Violet. So with Violet now asleep, Mira decided that it only made sense to follow her lead. “I guess I can just stay with her tonight.” Mira thought to herself, as she scanned Violet's room. But once again, her gaze landed on the puddle near Violet’s bed. “Eh, I really should clean that up. If I don't, this whole room is going to smell like pee by morning.” Mira thought with another sigh, as she decided to help Violet out one more time that night. Mira had found herself in a pretty odd situation, but she didn’t mind it too much. If Violet really needed her help, then she was going to give Violet just that. To Be Continued

Hey there readers! I hope you're still enjoying Academy Works. If you wanna start at the beginning (which I recommend, though it's not required!), you should read Academy I (Part 1), Academy B (Part 2), and Academy T (Part 3). Academy K is a bit more like A:T, but there's a lot less direct control. I really like this one because I'm playing with concepts of social manipulation and out-group biases. But I hope it's still fun to read nonetheless! If you want to support me, here's a Patreon link you can go to. Thanks to everyone who reads, likes, and/or leaves comments! ~Mia~ --------------------- Academy KBy Mia Moore "Unbound strength is not found at the end of the hermit’s pilgrimage, but throughout every step." -The Source Chapter One Kione Williams sat nervously at a table in a brightly lit room. The muscles in her arms ached for no good reason as she tried to lift them up off the table's surface. She looked at her pink palms, lighter than the rest of her skin, and stretched her fingers as far as they would allow. It hurt, but in a good way. Kione looked at the walls. They were pink, but every so often they looked green instead. She took a deep breath and counted to four. Hold, and release. The walls were pink, she was sure of it. The last thing Kione remembered was seeing that black van on her street. She was walking home from work and the headlights were off, but the running lights glowed an awkward orange. The whole sidewalk was awash with that same hue. The door of the pink room opened and a man stepped in. He was dressed in a black suit with a clipboard in his hand. Kione took another steady breath as he took a seat across from her. "Hello Kione. My name is Eli. Do you know where you are?" Kione nodded her head. She couldn't remember anything between the growl of that black van and opening her eyes in the pink room, but she knew where she was. How? She couldn't say for sure. "The Academy," Kione answered. Eli nodded slowly. If he was surprised by her answer, he didn't show it. "We are going to help you get better," Eli told her. "The Priestess can fix you." "I appreciate your concern," Kione said evenly, "but I don't need help." Eli opened the file on his desk. He flipped a few pages until he found one that he was looking for. Then he asked: "How long have you been seeing things?" Kione looked away and leaned back in her chair. It always came back to this. "Listen, I'm sure you mean well." That was a lie. For some reason, Kione didn't trust this man any further than she could throw him. And with the way her arms were hurting, and the size of Eli, that wasn't very far at all. "I have it under control. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to leave." "And where do you imagine you’ll be going?" Questions like that were phrased so open-ended, as though there could be any answer in the world. But the way that Eli had phrased it was clear as day that he only had one right answer in mind. Rarely did Kione have only one answer that seemed right. But right now, that was unimportant. Eli was waiting for an answer, and Kione knew she was screwed no matter what she said. "Wonderland? With the White Rabbit, and the Queen of Hearts?" "You’re a funny one,” Eli replied, dryly. He wasn’t smiling. "What color are the walls, Kione?" "Pink," Kione said without hesitation. "Are you sure?" Eli asked, tilting his head to the side. "Yes." Kione had made up her mind: the walls were pink. Certainty was never something she could stumble into on accident anymore; she had to make her own certainty. Eli got up from the table and walked to the door. He opened it and stepped outside. "Are you coming?" he asked. Kione nodded and stood up. The muscles in her thighs started to ache and her knees buckled beneath her. She braced herself on the table and steadied herself, then she followed Eli out of the room. Wherever he was taking her, it was better than sitting in that chair. As Kione followed down the hall, she noticed her feet. Bare. Where had her shoes gone? She noticed her pants next - white cotton, the texture of hospital scrubs - and a matching button up shirt. She probably looked like an orderly out of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Kione didn't like the resemblance. At the end of the long white hall was a single door. Eli led the way through it, outside and into the sunlight. It took a moment for Kione’s eyes to adjust. There was grass - too green, like a Hollywood movie set - and a consistent blue sky with clouds that didn’t seem to move. And the sound of... children playing? Giggling? Kione looked down the hill she stood atop, Eli by her side, at the scene below her. From up there, they looked like children, but something in her head told her otherwise. Adults. All adults, like her. But acting like children. Dressed like children. Some played hopscotch. Some played tag. Some were tossing a ball around. A few dozen, maybe fifty. "What is this?" Kione asked. "Salvation," Eli responded. She looked around the large space; the adult children played in the center of a pentagonal valley, with five hills that formed the shape of a star. Past that, there was nothing but a sea of grass. Atop each of the other four hills there were structures. Not houses, not buildings... but playground equipment, like you might have expected to find in a school yard. Or, well, a really expensive school yard, like one of those private schools that churned out damaged adults. "I don't understand how this is supposed to—" Kione turned to Eli, but he wasn't there. The door where she came out wasn't there either. She hesitated at the space where she expected the door should be and reached out to touch it, but her hand went right through. There was no door. Was Eli real? Was any of this? Kione took a deep breath. Five things she could see. The massive blacktop at the bottom of the hill, with adults playing hopscotch. Swing sets in lines of six, flanked on both sides with colorful seats. Picnic tables and swaths of blankets decorating the sides of the other four hills. Huge play-scapes - or maybe small play-towns - on each of the hills, painted in different colors: red, yellow, blue, and green. And finally, in the center of the valley, adorned with pictures and ornaments, a large door stood upright. A door that didn't seem to go anywhere at all. Maybe things she could see was a bad place to start. Kione closed her eyes and took another breath. Four things she could feel. The sharp grass beneath her feet. The slight breeze against her forehead. The ache of her legs as she stood. The gravity pulling on her, tilted every so slightly forward. Three things she could hear. Laughter. Bouncing balls. Music, like from a music box. Two things she could smell. Grass, like it was recently cut, though it didn't look like it had been. Kione knew always to trust her nose over her eyes. And lavender. One thing she could taste. Moisture. Humidity. She was thirsty, and this place was alive. When Kione opened her eyes again, it was just in time to see a group of kids - or adults dressed like kids - walking up the hill toward her. "I saw her first!" "Nuhuh, Marky saw her first an' told you an' I saw her before that!" "Nuhuh." "Yuhhuh." "She looks like a Banana." "You wouldn't even know a Banana!" "I am a Banana!" "I think she's umm... she's defi...defin... um. She's a Cherry!" The chittering of the group of would-be-children terminated when the group of six made it to the top of the hill. A girl - a woman, in a pretty gingham dress the color of freshly picked red apples - was the first to speak directly to Kione. "Welcome to the Kindergarten!" "I... thank you..." Kione paused and looked at the six residents. Each was dressed very specifically, with a dominant color and an accent of white. White socks, white hair ties, white frills along the hems of their dresses. Even the boys wore shirts with white sleeves or white laces on their shoes. Two green, two yellow, two red... but no blue. "I'm sorry," Kione apologized, though she hadn't done anything wrong. "What is this place, exactly? And do you know where the exit is?" "Oh gosh." "Oh golly." "Oh goodness." "We just said it's the Kindergarten," a girl in green echoed, but she didn’t sound annoyed about it. "And there's no exit, this is your home now. What's your name?" "I'm sorry, but I can't stay here." Kione skipped over the whole name thing. If these adults really were children, then it was best they didn't get attached to her. "I have a job; I'm a counsellor. If I don't get back to my clients soon, they'll worry about me. You understand, don't you?" "Nuhuh." "Nope." "She's definitely a Blueberry..." "I'm Robin," continued the girl in the red gingham dress who did the introductions. "I know it's confusing but you'll be okay. Tonight there's gonna be a Joining when the others get here, an' then you'll feel more at home." "I... I'm really sorry, but I can't..." Kione wasn't getting anywhere, and she knew it. She looked around the hilly parkway again, then down at the door in the center of it all. Free-standing on a frame with no wall. They saw it too, didn't they? "That door," Kione asked. "Does it go anywhere?" The kids exchanged awkward looks, but Robin spoke up right away. "That's the Ever After. When we earn it, the Priestess will open the door and lead us through. But only one of us gets to go at a time. So we gotta be on our best behavior." Kione nodded in understanding. This place was some kind of cult. An indoctrination of sorts. She'd suffered through enough loneliness and ostracism that Kione knew how important it was to belong. But her knowledge gave her power too. They wouldn't sway her so easily. Nonetheless, Kione always was good at putting on a face. "What do you mean 'Priestess'?" "Well when—" one of the others began to explain, but Robin shushed him with a wave of her hand. She shook her head softly, before taking over the explanation. "After the Joining, your leader will explain everything to you." Nobody seemed willing to argue with Robin, and when nobody else spoke up, she continued. "Do you Double Dutch?" "Um..." It seemed like such a non-sequitur. A yellow-shirted boy chimed in: "It's a dumb skipping game for girls." "Shut up, Wesley," the girl wearing a yellow dress snapped back and rolled her eyes. "It's not dumb you're just bad at it." "Cause I'm not a girl." "Maybe you should be, you keep talking about it!" He puffed out his cheeks and went quiet. Robin continued: "It's a game. Do you know how to play? Come down wif' us, okay?" Robin was mostly eloquent, but with some misspoken words here and there. It was weird. Cute, but weird. Kione followed the group down the hill, looking back at where she came from. There was no playscape at the top of it. It was different. Why was it different? Soon Kione and the others made it to the bottom of the hill and the grass made way for blacktop. The small, dull stones and the sun-soaked ground made the bottoms of Kione's feet hurt. A lot of other kids - all dressed primarily in one of the four colors - looked her way, but nobody else approached to make an introduction. Robin seemed to have an odd level of control over the whole situation. Maybe she's the leader, Kione wondered. If she is, then she's the best ally. And the most dangerous enemy. "You didn' tell me your name," Robin prompted again, "an' I can't introduce you if you don't tell me your name." The boys split away to play their games, and the other two girls - one in green and one in yellow - led her to where a gaggle of girls were jumping rope. "Kione." In the end, ingratiating herself and earning the trust of the residents would benefit her more than keeping her distance. If Kione learned anything from work, it was that rapport was everything. "Well Kione, it's nice to meet you. Come this way." As Robin approached, the mixture of girls - in reds, blues, yellows, and greens - wound down their rhythmic chant. They looked at Kione excitedly. "This is Kione," Robin said. "Hi Kione!" They all intoned, in unison, like addressing a school teacher. "Is there gon' be a Joining tonight?" one of the girls in blue asked. She had her thumb in her mouth and it drew Kione's attention. She sure seemed to take this 'dress like a kid' thing a little too far. But then again, this whole place seemed a bit too Wonderland for Kione. Maybe she shouldn’t have made that joke with Eli. "There is, but let's just play for now." Robin smiled, and turned to Kione. "Do you wanna do Miss Mary Mack? Or Teddy Bear? Or is there another jump rope game you like most?" "I, uh. Miss Mary Mack would be great." Kione hadn't jumped rope since she was in grade school, but she was pretty damn good. She hoped that jump rope was like riding a bike, and she wouldn't humiliate herself in front of a bunch of overgrown school children. As Kione stepped into the middle of the two jump ropes, the girls on either end - one in yellow, one in red - began mercifully slow. "Miss.... Mary.... Mack, Mack, Mack....all dressed in black, black, black, with silv-" Kione made it about that far before tripping, and the plastic ropes caught in her feet. There were laughs and giggles, but nothing too condescending. Nothing like how an adult would make fun of someone or discourage them for trying. It just seemed like the kids were having fun, and Kione didn't know what to make of that. "I wanna try again," Kione declared.

Hi everyone, it's me again, coming at you with a new Academy Works story. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you should maybe start by reading Academy I (Part 1) or Academy B (Part 2). These stories aren't really linear, so you can skip those, but it might help you understand what's going on a little bit better. Anyway, this is Academy T. It kind of steps outside the precedents set by the first two stories, so I hope people realize that Academy Works is a lot more than just a series about a regression facility. ? Same as last time, if you want to support me there's a Patreon link you can go to. Thanks for reading and leaving comments and stuff!! ~Mia~ --------------------- Academy TBy Mia Moore "The tower built for the sun and the tower built for the moon are in pursuit of different heavens." -The Source Chapter One Talita Campbell sat on her bed, staring blankly at the rails surrounding her. She was hungry. Her diaper was wet. She wanted to get out! But no matter how long she stared at the contraptions, she couldn't figure out how they worked. Every time Mommy lowered the bars, it seemed like magic. So Talita did the only thing she could to get her Mommy's attention: she cried. The LED on her bedside baby monitor glowed softly in the morning light; Mommy was listening. "And who’s a fussy baby this morning? The sun is barely awake and already you’re so eager to get up and go play, huh baby girl?" Play. With the others. That was how Talita spent a good deal of her mornings and afternoons. Playing in the playpen with neighborhood kids, or playing outside in the grass, or being taken to the park. Her Mommy had told her that it was good for her to play with the other kids, and that did make sense, although Talita knew she wasn’t a kid and neither were the others. Her thoughts were derailed - as they so easily were nowadays - by Mommy reaching down and slipping her finger between her onesie and her skin to check what she already knew was going to be a wet diaper. Talita always woke up wet. "Mommy…" Talita muttered as her Mommy took down the rails. She pressed a button, or kicked a lever, or something! But to Talita, it was magic all the same. She wiped her wet eyes and tried to close her legs, squishing the diaper between her thighs. She couldn't even remember the last time her knees touched. "Hm?" Talita's Mommy helped her off the bed. She waddled across the room to the changing table. "Can I please wear undies, just this once...? I promise I won't have any accidents, I promise..." Every day for almost a month, Talita had asked that question. It almost felt routine, as was her Mommy’s quick dismissal. But today was different. Instead of an outright no, Mommy paused to think about it. Talita's heart raced and she jumped in with renewed confidence. "One time! One time, and I swear! If I have any accidents, I pinky promise I'll never ask again!" "Oh, you pinky promise, do you? And you know what happens to little girls who break pinky promises, don’t you darling?" "...uh huh." Talita swallowed glumly. "And you want to make a pinky promise that if you have even a single accident today, you’ll never ask again?" "Maybe…um… maybe not a single accident..." "And maybe you can show Mommy how dry you can keep this diaper today, and then we’ll talk?" "Mo-mmeeee, I want to wear undies! Pretty pleeeeeaaaase?" The truth was, Talita wasn't sure she could keep up her end of the bargain. For well over a month, she had woken up in a wet diaper. Every day, it felt like a struggle to keep what little of her toilet training she had left. But if she truly was so helpless as to have an accident without even thinking, then maybe she didn't have the right to ask for underwear anyway. However, Talita had always been a risk taker. Sometimes things ended up bad and sometimes they didn’t, but Talita never regretted it. Life was more fun when she took her chances. Or, it was until she woke up in this place. "I can do it. Not any accidents." Though Talita's voice was full of confidence, her stomach was flipping with anxiety. Mommy helped her onto the changing table and looked her square in the eye. They were the same height when standing, down to the millimeter, but there was something diminutizing about sitting on the changing table that made Talita feel smaller. "Okay," Mommy said. "But if you fail, and you break your promise, then you'll be a Bad Girl for a month." Talita's eyes went wide and the color drained from her face. A month? But even if Talita had an accident, the least she could do was keep her promise. She could do that, for sure. "Otay..." The ‘undies’ in question were far from being the kind of panties an adult might wear. These were thick, cotton, stuffed with a lining of padding with prints of strawberries and unicorns on them - training pants by any assessment. To Talita, they were the most mature thing in the whole world, so much so that it distracted her from her dread as she watched her Mommy pull them out of the drawer. One day. Just one day. No accidents. She could do it. There was no way Talita was going to end up as a Bad Girl again! Mommy changed her diaper and wiped her clean. Talita wouldn't be wearing a diaper for the first time in months, but her Mommy powdered her all the same. Then, without ceremony, she slid the strawberry training pants up her legs and around her hips. Talita looked down at her knees and touched them together, a shiver of delight rushing up her spine. She was a big girl now! Everyone at school was going to be jealous! "Now it’s important you remember, Talita my darling girl, that you’re making a deal with Mommy." The woman held her finger up with all the earnest seriousness of... something serious. Talita couldn’t follow her own metaphor. So she linked pinkies with her Mommy, and just like that sealed the deal. "I’m so essited, I’m gonna be... gonna be so... so flippin’ cool, Mommy, you don’t even know!" "Well, let's get you dressed then. Daddy is making breakfast." Talita was all sunshine as her Mommy dressed her. She wore a short dress with frills underneath, flashing the seat of her training pants when she so much as bent over. Frilly ankle socks adorned her feet, along with a set of white ballet flats. Her long hair was tied in loose pigtails with plastic bauble elastics. Finally, a pacifier was clipped to her dress and pressed firmly between her lips. She was a picturesque toddler in the body of an adult, but Talita didn't even seem to notice, let alone mind. Talita walked with one foot in front of the other - something she couldn't do when waddling in a diaper - all the way to the kitchen, where Daddy was plating eggs and toast. Though she and her Mommy were the same height, Daddy was a bit taller with mussed hair and a clean beard. The couple couldn't have been more than ten years older than Talita, but they were her parents nonetheless. "Eggies!" Talita clapped her hands happily, then tried to reel in her enthusiasm. She wanted her Daddy to see just how cool and mature she was today. "That’s right, cupcake: eggs with toast." He flashed her a warm smile. "It’s not got seeds innit right, Daddy?" Talita screwed up her nose. "I dun’ like the toast with seeds innit." "Not a single seed as far as the eye can see, cupcake." Talita pursed her lips and looked skeptically, then nodded her head. "You took them all out, Daddy?" Explaining that white bread didn’t have seeds in it was going to be an exercise in futility, as it often was with Talita. She was beautiful, immature, darling, and very very dumb; so her Daddy just smiled and nodded. Breakfast in the Campbell household was all too ordinary. Talita ate bites of toast, spilling crumbs down her bib and into the little pocket at the bottom. Mommy told Daddy about Talita's promise and how she didn't need diapers anymore. Daddy got up early from the table to ready Talita's stroller for the trip to her school. Yes, breakfast in the Campbell house was all too ordinary, if Talita really had been a toddler and not a 29 year old woman. "Can I walk instead?" Talita asked as Daddy buckled her into the stroller. "I'm a big girl today, so it makes sense." "How about," Daddy said, snapping the last belt in place with a metallic click, "if you can get out of the stroller before we get there, you can walk the rest of the way." Talita's eyes lit up at the challenge and nodded her head, immediately getting to work on the buckles wrapped over her shoulders and around her waist. Ordinarily, perhaps a long time ago, Talita may have considered the best way to win this challenge. Like, for example, to wait until the last possible moment before getting out of the stroller so that she could have victory and get to show up to school walking on her own and not be so tired from the walk that she needed a nap as soon as she got there. Cool kids didn’t need a nap until at least lunchtime. Talita, though, was a very special variety of bimbaby. The kind of girl to whom such advanced machinations would never occur. In fact, they were only a few minutes from the house when she was so sure she’d managed to wriggle free already. "Daddy I did-" Her words were cut short by a frown and a gasp as the straps over her thighs and lap held fast. In all her excitement to work on the shoulder straps - which she could squirm out of and cheat her way to freedom - she’d completely forgotten to account for the others that held her firmly in place. "Did what, cupcake?" Her Daddy asked, slightly amused, as he pushed the stroller. "Nothing Daddy..." Efforts must be doubled!

Author’s Note: I know it’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything so I thought I’d put up a short story that I’ve been working on for a few months now! It was only supposed to be a one shot but turned into five chapters. On top of that, it was going to be a surprise but I am tired of waiting 😭. I’ve been writing another story for just under a year and I’m at 28 chapters so far and I hope to have it posted some time soon so stay tuned! There is much more to come!! Disclaimer: This story is heavy for non-consent! So if this isn’t your vibe, I suggest you don’t read. TRIGGER WARNINGS: abuse, abduction, sexual content, pregnancy and loss, hypnosis, Stockholm Syndrome, sketchy medical practices, grief, death. OoOoo A Little Far From Stockholm Chapter 1 It was only ten steps across the street to the supermarket from your house. You shopped once a week, crossing the road instead of driving because it was more effort to drive around the block. It was always the same routine. The teenager Ben stocked the breads, Chris worked behind the deli, and Maria attended to you at the checkout. Most times, you ran into Gladys King with her hair done up big, always dressed in her sparkly pink velvet tracksuit, seemingly having forgotten that you were no longer in the 80s. Then there were the Yummy Mummies. They were a pretentious group of new mothers who carted their newborns around, all while trying to outdo each other with their parenting techniques. Often, they could be heard bragging about their traumatic birth stories and how their baby just “slid right out of them” or how, at only one week old, they were already sleeping through the night. There was also Mr. Jenks, the one homeless man in Beaver Hill. He begged outside the store every day and always had a kind word to say. Those were only some of the people who made up your small town, and it’s what made you love it so much more. Everyone knew everyone, and even your worst enemy was willing to lend a hand. But on the seventh of January, everything changed. A man approached you in the parking lot. He was tall and handsome with an extremely symmetrical face and stormy grey eyes. He had a laugh that made your heart flutter and a smile worth a million bucks. So handsomely beautiful, you knew everyone in Beaver Hill, so you knew that he was not from here, or else you definitely would have noticed him before. He didn’t look too much older, maybe a couple of years or so, and that didn’t bother you. Anyways, he saw you struggling with several bags of food and couldn’t turn down the chance to help a pretty girl like you. Blushing wildly, you thought that he was just buttering you up and gestured to your house across the street. Nothing bad ever happened in Beaver Hill. Still, he offered you a hand into his rusty old truck. While you denied again out of sheer politeness, his dazzling smile made you swoon. You hoped he would put up some sort of a fight, but he shrugged his shoulders in defeat. But as he he wished you well and went to leave, a shout rose from your lips. “Wait!” He paused, turning around halfway with his hand on the door. You know that this was the end of your self-control because he was cute, and you are hopelessly single. Asking again if he was serious about the ride, he opened the back door. “Hop in,” he smiled. And so you do. The next thing you know, the car is moving quickly, and you’ve turned onto the highway headed in the opposite direction from your house. You weren’t sure what happened next because you blacked out at some point. When you woke up, you didn’t remember the rest of the drive, and that’s what terrified you the most. All you knew was that you were in a room that was not your own, with a man bending over you, hand reaching out through these strange bars that surrounded you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered and caressed your cheek. “You won't disappoint me, not like the others. You’re going to be my good girl, yeah?” Unable to respond, you didn’t know how. What did you say when you were abducted by a stranger? You remember from a survivalist show that begging was no good. It usually just made them angrier, and that’s when you got hurt. So you released a heavy breath and nod your head timidly, obediently, and still as he kisses you ever so softly upon your forehead. “I know this is very scary for you, but I need to hear your voice. Can you speak?” It was not a request, and his face hardened into stone with every moment of silence that passed. Finally, your lips part and your voice weakened with wear, cracked, “yes…” “Daddy.” He said, and your stomach revolted. “Can you repeat after me?” “Yes, Daddy.” You whispered but could hardly hear the sound of your own voice. Your lips were numb as they moved, and there was a rushing noise in your ears. It sounded like water or white noise. It drowned out everything else he said because it was obvious that your input wasn’t required. Daddy. What sick game was this? The only person you called Daddy was the man who was your father, who would most certainly be searching for you when you didn’t show up to his house for your weekly dinner together. This was going to wreck him. Your captor moved around the room and opened the drawers to the dresser in front of the cage where you lay propped against a thick pillow. The bedroom was obnoxiously pink, and you could not describe the scent other than that it smelled like spring. He opened the white door diagonal from where you lay and disappeared inside. From what you could see, there was a sink, a toilet, and a rustling could be heard. The moment he was out of sight, your eyes flickered to the other door beside the bathroom and contemplated whether you could make a run for it. But the deadbolts in place made for a slow escape, and towering walls made it all the more difficult. Besides, he came back before you even had the chance to think through a plan. But that was not the point because your main focus now was the white square object in his left hand. In the other were a pair of scissors. He towered over you, standing beside the cage, and peeled away the sheets that draped your body. That is when you see the metal cuff around your left ankle and a chain secured to the contraption's foot. A gasp caught in your chest, and you yank your foot back only to jangle the chain. He stared at you and sighed, “The chain is only until I can trust you not to run away or hurt yourself or me. It’s only temporary… that is, if you are a good girl. Can you be a good girl for Daddy?” “Yes.” You whisper, glancing down at your lap where your fingers nervously fiddled. He clicked his tongue. “Daddy.” You repeated the word, albeit reluctantly, and he grumbled. “You’ll learn soon enough. I know it is hard at first. But the good news is that the chain extends across the room and we’ll talk about the rest of the house at a later time.” His attempts to comfort you only made your head spin, and you began to wonder if you were in an episode of Black Mirror. The way he stared at you as if he loved you sent chills down your spine. “Let’s get you changed.” Your body violently trembled and could not get one clear word out, unable to ask him what he meant. Lifting the side of the cage down, you are freed and are led to the bathroom with a grip on your arm. It’s normal, like any other with cream-painted walls and a white tiled ground. There’s the shower and sink, medicine cabinet, and toilet. However, you were so caught up in your thoughts that you failed to notice the tiny plastic contraption in the corner of the room. It is only when a sharp stinging pain ignited on your bottom that you realized what just happened. He hit you. Flinching away, wide-eyed with fear, your gaze flickered to the open door. “Do you need another spanking?” No. Frightened, you shook your head back and forth and hugged yourself tight in an attempt to make yourself smaller. It was an attempt to disappear. “It’s important to listen to Daddy.” He explained slowly. “Daddy knows best. Daddy knows what his little girl needs.” The little girl in question was you. He cupped your cheeks in his hand, and you had to tilt your head up to see his face. There’s stubble along his jaw, dark like his eyes, but you couldn’t see the beauty in that anymore. You don’t know what you saw in the first place. “As I was saying before, because I am such a nice Daddy, we are going to take it slow.” Slow? You blinked repeatedly, and your lips curved down into a frown. Amused by your selective mutism, he chuckled at the confusion on your face and patted your head. “You’re going to get undressed now. It’s time for your new life, baby.” OoOoo You were frozen like a deer in the headlights, and your captor took the opportunity for himself. In college, you'd taken a psychology class on the science behind trauma and learned that when your brain perceived a threat, there were four different types of responses: fight, flight, freeze, or fawn. The fight was just as it sounded when the subject would react with force, retaliating against the threat. Flight was an attempt to remove oneself from the situation by running from the threat. Freeze rendered the subject immobile and left them unable to react. Fawn saw the subject trying to appease or placate the threat, submitting to it to protect themselves from harm. You always imagined that you would respond in fight mode because, your entire life, that’s all you’d ever done: stand up for others who could not speak for themselves. But as you stood here now, your limbs felt like lead. They hung heavy from your body as if they were not your own, and a numbness iced over your brain. You couldn’t think, move, or fight. You were frozen. “Is this task a little too hard for you?” Minty breath washed over your face. “It’s okay. This is why Daddy is here. We’ll get you sorted in no time.” No! You want to scream. Leave me alone! But you stared at the ground, counting the cracks in the tiles as he tugged at the zipper to your sweatshirt. As it fell to the ground, he pulled your ratted t-shirt over your head. The cold air nipped at your skin, and immediately, your arms crossed over your chest. You weren’t wearing a bra. He then clicked his tongue and smacked your backside. Jerking away at the action, you dropped your arms. His eyes were light and vividly amused. He says, “nu-uh. Arms down. There is no need to be concerned with modesty anymore, princess. Your body is Daddy’s and only for his eyes.” There was a warning in his tone that did not match his otherwise nonchalant attitude, and, afraid of the consequences, you complied. He’d already spanked you twice. What more could he do? And so as his hands brushed over your supple but pert breasts, thumbing your pebbled nipples all the while, you recount the formula for Pi in your head. 3.1459265… Tugging at the waistband of your sweatpants, they crumpled to the ground at your feet. Unshed tears burned in your eyes… You want to go home. 5358979323846… “You won’t need any of this anymore.” His voice echoed. The last to go are your underpants. You stare at them, crumpled into a ball with a feeling of dread. 2643383279… He pinched the inside of your thigh and made a noise with his lips. You realize unconsciously that you had crossed your legs together. His hand grabbed at your pussy, and his nails dug into the delicate skin. You cried out at the sudden piercing pain. “What did Daddy just say?” He hissed, and while your mouth attempted to catch up with your brain, you did not respond fast enough. He barked menacingly, “Your body is no longer your own! If Daddy wants to see his darling’s princess parts. You will open your legs.” He slapped your cunt. “If Daddy wants to feel his girl’s bottom, you will bend over and present!” Hands pawed at your tensed cheeks, and a singular tear trickles down your face. As his hand shifted to her breasts, suddenly he twisted your pebbled nipple with his sharp nails. “If Daddy wants to suckle on his princess’s itty bitty titties, you will not fight back. Are we clear!? Use your words!” Your entire body trembled with force, overcome by silent wails as the tears came splashing down from your eyes. Your knees wobbled so harshly that you thought you were going to fall and were unable to catch your breath. There’s a heavy sigh, and suddenly, you feel a hand at the back of your head that pushes you into his large chest. He combed his fingers through your hair, making a hushing noise, and gently massaged your bottom, as if that would help the situation at all. “Daddy is sorry,” he whispered into your ear. “Daddy knows how emotional his girl is. Daddy knows that his princess is trying her best and will be a good girl from now on, yeah?” Yes. You nodded timidly into his chest, thankful that he did not make you speak because you wouldn’t be able even if you tried. As he heaved a sigh of relief and pulled you back, the tears continued to fall. “Let’s finish this up, yeah? I can see how tired my girl is.” You can only watch as he bent down to the chain at your foot and unlocked it with a key before he reached for the thick white object on the sink. Brows furrowed together, trying to figure out what it was, he began to unfold it in front of you. He explained, “This is a pull-up. It is what you will wear for now on until you become more comfortable, and we can transition to diapers. Do you understand?” Pull-ups? Diapers? You finally stopped crying, and now he hits you with this. You think you’re going to throw up and spin around, only to freeze at the sight of the contraption beside the toilet. It’s tiny, low to the ground, and it looked like a seat for… toddlers. “That’s your potty training toilet! You don’t need to worry about these scary grown-up things anymore. Daddy will take care of you,” he cooed and opened up the padding. Squatting down, he tapped your thigh. You didn’t need to ask what he wanted. Numbly, you complied. Your body acted on its own accord to the point where you feel like a puppet, and there was someone behind the scenes manipulating the strings. Stepping through one leg hole and then the other, he slid it up to your waist. It fits snug, and we were confused by how normal it felt. It was just like super thick and crinkly underwear. It’s the only clothing you had on, and by his lack of movement, you knew it was the only thing you were getting. “Now you are ready,” he gleamed and stepped back as if to admire his work. “Do you need to go potty?” He asks, and your face burns hot at the word. You began shaking your head, but he didn’t seem to care. “Let’s go potty and then it’s beddybye time.” You didn’t want to go but figured that if you were being offered the chance, you might as well try. Who knew the next time you’d be allowed back here? “It’s time to potty,” he repeated, and you stared at him, waiting for him to leave the bathroom, but he didn’t. Pushed down onto the toilet seat, your knees curled up to your chest, and you were left thoroughly confused. The cover is still closed, and your pull-up is still on. There’s a twinge in your bladder, but you refuse to let go. He kneeled in front of you. “You’re going to go potty in your pull-up, and Daddy will be here to clean his little princess if she leaks.” What? You gasped with fresh tears in your eyes. No! He didn’t give you a choice when his hands wrapped around your stomach and began to massage. Gentle, firm, and purposeful, he pressed down in just the right place, and the floodgates opened up. You sob as warm piss splashes up against your skin. It continued for over a minute, and you thought the humiliation would never end. Your captor let you cry it out, not saying a word, and hummed gently. When it had finally stopped, he reached for a package of wipes on the ground you had failed to see before. “Good job, baby! The first time is always the hardest. Do you need to poo?” Poo? Your face blanched. Did he actually expect you to shit yourself? He began to laugh, shaking his shoulders, and explained,“Good girls make stinky poos for Daddy; it is my job to always make sure you are healthy.” Your face said it all, and if even you did need to shit, no way in hell were you going to do it now. He’d already been given way too much leeway, and this is where you drew the line. But he just thought you were being shy. “Daddy thinks his sweet darling deserves a treat for going potty in her pampers.” Knowing that this could mean nothing good, you’re right. From his pocket, he pulled out a small, pink, and sparkly object and exclaimed, “Open up!” Open up? Oh no. In the moment of confusion, he took the chance, wiggling the paci between your lips. Once he was inserted into your mouth, a band was strapped around your head. The round object weighed down your tongue, and your cheeks puffed out like chipmunks'. You had to breathe through your nose, and it was terribly uncomfortable, and you whimpered. Chewing on the thing, it tasted like rubber, and you figured that he’s gagged you, but it’s so much worse than that. “This is your pacifier." Oh god. Your immediate reaction was to spit it out, but he’d obviously planned for that. “It’s just for you. I will never take it away even if you are naughty,” he winks. “Why don’t you give Daddy a suckle?” You glance towards the door, wondering if you could make a run for it and then back at your chained foot and to the man in front of you, because despite your conniving mind, he knows you’ll obey. You know you’ll obey… you’re too much of a coward not to. That was why you suck once (testing out the waters) and then a second time (trying to figure out the feeling). So caught up in the mysterious motion, you nearly jump out of your skin when your captor cooed, “Good girl!” He stared at you with stars in his eyes, as if you were his actual child who had just walked their first steps. Kissing your cheek and leaving a trail of slobber, it was a struggle to keep the disgusted look from your face. He grinned so wide that it reached his eyes, and you can not ignore the manic look in his gaze. It became clear that there was something seriously wrong with him. So calm, he spoke about all of this with such experience, and you had an inkling of fear that you were not his first victim. Content with your lack of fight and reluctant obedience, he stripped you down, and you opened yourself up at the tap to your leg. The cold wipe tingled your skin, sweeping over your bare mound, between the flaps, and down the insides of your thighs. You clenched your jaw, staring at the ceiling, wishing you were somewhere far away, hoping this was all some terrible dream. But when a new pull-up is slipped on, and the chain is reattached, you are all too aware that you're stuck in the present. ooOoo Everything was starting to make more sense now. The pacifier, pull-up, toilet, bed that looked like a cage that could only be a crib, and the rocking chair in the corner of the room of the nursery (you had to say what it was). Time did not exist within these four walls. Time ceased to exist the moment you stepped into that car and unknowingly sold your life away. He left you after the bathroom incident, leading you back to bed and placing thick noise-canceling headphones over your ears and a blindfold over your eyes. He’s rendered you deaf and blind, and the only sound you hear is a voice. Daddy is patient. Daddy is kind. Daddy knows what’s best for his little girl. The words repeated like clockwork, replaying over and over and over again to the point where you were unsure if it was real or your own imagination. Good girls listen to Daddy. Good girls love their Daddy. Good girls do not fight back. It’s his voice. Deep and strong. For the first time, you noticed a gravel undertone, and no matter how many times you tried to ignore it, it looped you right back in. When your captor returned, your eyes were heavy. You thought you had slept, but you are not sure because the darkness had become a constant presence. It’d been hours of what felt like tossing and turning, and you could not get comfortable. He had you on your back with your arms tied behind you. The chain on your ankle was connected to manacles around your wrist and would not allow you to stretch your fingers. You understood why when he removed the blindfold and headphones. Your hands were bound in fingerless mitts. He asked if you liked the color pink, but all you could think about was how cold the metal was against your skin. Hand placed on the small of your back, he admired the way your shoulders retracted and breasts inadvertently jutted out. He told you that’s not why he wanted you despite his lingering gaze. He only wanted your submission, your obedience, and your complete and utter devotion. It was a bit ironic. You would have willingly given yourself to him if he had asked you out like a normal person. From the first meeting, you liked him and would have given him a chance only if he had asked. Now, it is the same thing as before. You use the toilet, but not actually because you're trapped in the pull-up. After you were done, he cleaned you thoroughly, and you did not put up a fight. Staring at yourself in the mirror now, you didn’t recognize the person you see. Your eyes were puffy and red, and a harsh rash spread across your cheeks. The only thing that distracted you was the pacifier. Brushing your hair into two high pigtails, you had to admit that he had delicate hands. Gentle and steady, he seemed to know what to do as he split your hair down the middle and gathered it in bunches. The finishing touch was two pink bows, and he just absolutely buzzed with excitement. Dead eyes stare back at you because the girl in the mirror is not yourself. Bound, padded, and pacified… a normal person would have clawed their way to freedom by now or at least put up some sort of a fight, but… Good girls listen to Daddy. Good girls love their Daddy. Good girls do not fight back. It’s not like you actually believed the words, but anything that anyone has listened to for an extended period of time would be stuck in their head. Sighing loudly from behind, he placed a hand on your shoulder as you both gazed back at yourselves. “You know Daddy doesn’t like to tie you up, but your predecessor had very sharp nails and an eye for delicate things,” he murmured and thumbed a tiny scar beneath his eye. “You’ve been good so far, and there’s still a way to come, but Daddy is hopeful!” Nodding acknowledgment, apparently, that was the right thing to do. “Let's go,” he said excitedly, “I made breakfast for my baby girl. I’m sure she is very hungry.” Actually, you weren’t, you were actually nauseous because that’s what happened when a crazy man decided to abduct you, but your captor was blind to your inner turmoil. He left you seated at the low circular table in the corner of the room. Of course, it’s pink. You scowled sullenly, wanting to burn this place to the ground, and couldn’t forget what he just said. The night had passed, and because of the windowless room and the lack of a clock, it could be two in the morning for all you knew, and your captor was trying to confuse you! Realizing this, a frantic pounding in your chest erupted that felt very close to a heartache, and you knew that you must calm yourself before he returned; however, the only thing that actually worked was the pacifier, which made you even more upset. You were suspicious that the man’s good mood was intrinsically linked to yours and didn’t want to rock the boat too far, so to speak. You’d seen the cracks in his facade. They fractured quickly and left him a bit out of sorts. You feared for what he was like when the full weight of his anger came crashing down. But there was no time to let yourself spiral because he was already back with a plate and… a bottle in his hands. Placing them down on the table, he sat beside you and patted his lap. “Come here, baby,” What? You hesitated, and in that brief moment, the crack deepened. He repeated sharply, “Here now!” Pointing at his lap, your body was quick to react. Shuffling on your knees a few inches, he yanked at your side. Fed up with your slowness, you fell on top of him with a muted thud. Your back pressed against his chest, and you were suddenly aware of how much larger he actually was. His body engulfed your tiny frame, which made you feel like the child he was treating you as. And you thought it must be uncomfortable for him, but he made no complaint. He only removed the pacifier. You took the opportunity to stretch your jaw and wondered if this was the time to beg for your release, but rethink it, knowing how close he was… you didn’t want to risk his wrath. He took the brief moment to tie something around your neck and humiliatingly realized that it was a bib. “Shall we eat our nummies?” he gasped in exaggerated excitement and reached for the rubber spoon. The plate was divided into several sections, like the ones you ate when you were young. You eyed get a small amount of runny scrambled eggs, chopped-up pieces of pancake, and a side of fruit with a dollop of yogurt. He held a scoop up to your lips, and you began to eat. The eggs were bland, the pancakes mushy, and you had to force yourself not to gag as they went down your throat. He held out another spoonful of the yogurt and fruit, which you had to admit was a bit better. As he moved it towards your lips, he veered right suddenly, and the whole thing splattered on your face, dripping down your skin. Crying out suddenly, he gasped, “Oh no! Baby made a mess. That’s okay! This is why it’s important for only big, strong daddies to feed their little girls.” He giggled to himself, using the bib to wipe at your face before setting the spoon down and reaching for the bottle. It’s full of warmed milk, and your stomach jostled uncomfortably as he forced down the whole gallon. And that’s how it continues on, tuning out the meaningless prattle staring at the door, knowing freedom was so close yet so far. From what he said earlier, you figured at least 12 hours had passed (if it had truly only been one day). That meant your dad wouldn’t realize you were missing until tonight, when you didn’t turn up for dinner. That’s when help would come. You are certain of that. Dad would alert the police, and they’d track the last place you were seen and watch the security footage as you got into your captor’s car and tracked the license plate. It was too perfect! You just had to obey a little while longer… and everything would be fine. By the end of the meal, your stomach puffed out, and you let out a big groan. “Daddy always takes care of his little girl.” He hummed into your ear. “Daddy loves his little girl and good girls love their Daddy.” “Yes, Daddy.” You gulped and watched as his face lit up at the sound of your voice. It was all pretend, and you just had to push through and keep your captor on your good side. Leaving you again, he promised to come back in a bit to take you to the potty because “Daddy has a very important job that can no longer wait.” Oh, like abducting random girls off the street? Your mind snarkily thought instead of the demure, “Yes, Daddy,” you actually said. Now, back in bed and blind, mute and deaf, the only thing to do was sink to the sound of his voice. Daddy is patient. Daddy is kind. Daddy knows what’s best for his little girl. Good girls listen to Daddy. Good girls love their Daddy. Good girls do not fight back. At one point, he did come back to bring you to the bathroom and spoon-fed you a bowl of mush, but he did not remove the restraints, and you feel yourself being laid back down, and the cycle repeats. Good girls are quiet. Good girls are sweet. Only Good girls get treats. Your mind became numb after a while. It feels like you were floating down a lazy river. Totally at peace, completely relaxed, you didn't ever want to wake up. Good girls wear Pampers. Good girls use their pampers. Good girls love their pampers.

Gosh I feel like it's been months since I finished posting Academy I. I'm sorry for the delay on starting this one. I have a few chapters ready to go, but I hope to do a lot more over winter break. Anyway... If you haven't read Academy I, I recommend you read that one first. I don't think it's strictly necessary though? I'm trying to write these as individual narratives, but it will definitely benefit the reader to have some information from A:I. Oh and again. If you want to support me, there's a Patreon link you can go to. Thanks for reading and leaving comments and stuff. ~Mia~ ---------------------------- Academy B By Mia Moore "True judgement does not use balanced scales, for the fool’s pockets have been filled with many of the devil’s stones." -The Source Chapter One Bala Khatri woke up to stark, bright lights. They glared off the shiny walls, ceiling, and floor. The room was big and shadowless, stretching an impossible distance. As Bala's eyes adjusted, she caught sight of something else: a person. But as she approached, she found that she was looking in a mirror. Bala was still dressed in scrubs from her night shift at the hospital. She was on her way back to her car when the van pulled up. She had managed to mace one of the suited men, but the other hit her hard across the face. In the mirror, there was swelling along her jawline. Where was she now? A pit the size of a melon sat in her stomach, sprouting dread, demanding that she shout out at the empty room with the shiny walls. To threaten them. To deny them. To appeal to them. To beg to them. Bala was no stranger to the perils of being a young woman who worked long hours and late nights in the city. She rubbed her fingers up her arms and found herself shivering. Cold? Scared? Bala quickly realized the room wasn't as big as she thought: the mirror was causing a lot of the distortion. She worked her way around the brightly lit room until she found a handle to a door, though the door blended in so much it was hard to notice. Bala tried the handle, but it didn't turn. "Damnit..." She fished through her pockets for her cell phone, but it wasn't there. The ID tag on her waist wasn't there either. "My family has no money," Bala called out, the echo of her voice eerily flat against the walls of the room. "If it’s a ransom you're hoping for, you might as well kill me now. I’m sure my organs are worth more to you." Always the pragmatist. Nobody responded. Maybe they were organ harvesters, though - it would explain why it felt like a refrigerator in there. Bala kicked at the door, but she wasn't the strongest woman in the world. She wasn't the biggest, either. She knew her way around a can of pepper spray, but that wasn't going to help her in here. Why would someone kidnap her? Was it a sex thing? Bala stepped away from the door and paced around the room. She rubbed her bare arms, hugging herself tightly. It felt colder and colder the longer she was awake. "Sit down," a voice said, filling the room with a soft echo. It was neither masculine nor feminine, and didn’t seem to come from anywhere in particular. Bala looked around for the source of the voice, but there was nobody else in the room with her. No cameras. No speakers. Not that she could find with her eyes, anyway. Had she imagined the command? "I won’t," she replied, in defiance. The voice didn't repeat itself. And for the next ten minutes, Bala was left to her thoughts and her own preponderances. Gosh it was cold. Colder with every passing moment. "Sit down." The voice repeated. "Tell me why you're doing this!" No response. Bala took a deep breath and saw the air in front of her nose. Was it really that cold in here? She was shivering in place. "Please... I have a family. I have a daughter. She's two years old. She needs her mother!" Bala didn't have a family. She didn't have a daughter. She had a mom who visited once a week and a roommate she had known for two years. She had a lot of friends at work, people who would quickly realize she was missing. Bala was never late to work. There was no response. No amount of impassioned pleas, truthful or not, seemed to impact the disembodied voice. She shivered, rubbed her arms, and paced the room. "Sit down." It had to be pre-recorded, didn't it? Bala had been trying to time the intervals between the commands, and they seemed roughly similar. But they were so far apart that she couldn’t compare the inflections or tones. Was it a person? Reluctantly, she shouted at the ceiling. "If I sit down, will you turn up the heat please? I'm going to get hypothermia, you know?" Not yet. It wasn't cold enough yet. But it was cold enough that she kept clenching her swollen jaw. No response. Bala did her best to hold out hope for a crack, an edge, something to grab onto verbally. But if the voice was truly a recording, her shouting would get her nowhere. So when it next repeated: "Sit down." She sat down. Immediately, the space on the floor where she sat began to glow a soft red. Bala nervously examined the room, pressing her palms to the floor. It was giving off heat, like a space heater. She wondered if the rest of the room was warming up, or if it was only the glowing spot. And why did they want her to sit down? Was it just a display of power? "I'm sitting now, what do you want?" There was no reply from the voice. It was American; she had figured that much out. And if she had to guess, it repeated about every ten minutes. Would it give her another command in ten minutes, then? Experimentally, she reached as far as she could, in each direction, and found the floor only to be warm on the tile where she was sitting. The room was still cold, but the warmth travelled well up her body and it left her feeling... comfortable. As comfortable as she could be, sitting on a hard floor in a freezing room, ordered around by a disembodied voice after being kidnapped. "Put your thumb in your mouth and keep it there." What? Bala thought. Why? "I'm not putting my thumb in my mouth," Bala said to no one in particular. "What is this all about? Are you trying to humiliate me or something? That isn't happening!" No response. No anything. So Bala sat quietly with her arms crossed, soaking in the heat of the tile beneath her. Then, ten minutes later, the tile turned off. The heat vanished, and the voice repeated itself. "Put your thumb in your mouth and keep it there." "No, I..." Bala was smart enough to have a preschool understanding of cause and effect. She needed to follow the directions, or the room was going to stay cold. On top of that, there was the faintest breeze of frigid, icy air. They were making the room colder? Because she hadn't obeyed? The voice repeated itself three more times. Bala found the corner of the room by the mirror and balled herself together as tight as she could, knees to her chest and arms tucked into her shirt. The air in the room was biting; no matter how she tried, she couldn't stop shaking. It was definitely below freezing, and her head was starting to hurt. “Put your thumb in your mouth and keep it there." What did it matter? It was one stupid thing. It wasn't even that embarrassing, if she thought about it. People suck their thumbs. It wasn't weird. So with a bit of hesitation, she put her thumb in her mouth and kept it there. The moment that she did, she could feel the spreading warmth beneath her on the floor. It was like slipping under a blanket in the middle of winter. It was like a hug at the end of a twenty-hour double shift at the hospital. Bala shivered, but this time it wasn't because of the cold. She had her thumb in her mouth, sure. But so what? The whole experience was exhausting for Bala. Every time she tried to fight, it got colder. Then she was sitting in the corner of a room and sucking her thumb. Worse yet, she knew the voice would continue to demand things from her. Whatever their goal was, it wouldn't end with thumbsucking. "Lay down and rest. Keep your thumb in your mouth. Sleep." Bala sighed and looked down at the floor as the voice gave her a new command. What was she supposed to do with that? What kind of command was 'go to sleep' when you're a literal kidnapping victim? But she also knew she had little choice in the matter. "I need to use the bathroom." To her surprise, the voice responded right away with a new command. "Do not speak unless spoken to." It responded to her? Then they could hear her. She took her thumb out of her mouth and tried to get to her feet. "Please let me out! I'll do anything you want, just let me out of here!" Maybe it was the standing up. Maybe it was taking her thumb out of her mouth. Maybe it was talking without a prompt. Whatever it was, the heat started to vanish from the spot where she was standing. In a fury, Bala went over to the door and tugged at the handle, kicking the tiled walls. "Let me out! I know you can hear me! Let me out! Whatever you want from me, I don't care, I'll play along, just let me out!" Bala kicked at the door and screamed at the room for nine minutes, until the original command repeated itself. "Lay down and rest. Keep your thumb in your mouth. Sleep." "Fuck you!" The room was getting cold again. Bala could see her breath and her arms were covered in goosebumps. What was she supposed to do? Give up? "I'm not going to do it! I'm not going to listen! I'll freeze my butt off before I listen to you again, unless you get in here and talk to me. Or… or let me out. I don't care!" Bala was short of breath and sucking on icy oxygen that hurt her lungs. She paced the room, trying to keep warm. She tucked her arms back into her shirt and shook her head side to side. Stay moving. Keep active. But by the time the voice repeated the command - "Lay down and rest. Keep your thumb in your mouth. Sleep." - Bala was struggling to breathe. It felt like the air around her was full of glass. Her heart was hurting and she could read the signs of hypothermia. The temperature in the room was clearly below freezing. If she didn't warm up soon, she could have liver or kidney problems. With an angry whimper, she sat back down on the floor - in the center of the room - and put her thumb in her mouth. No warmth. No warmth. What was she doing wrong? The words played back in her head so readily. Lay down and rest. Keep your thumb in your mouth. Sleep. Sleep. Lay down. Rest. Sleep. Thumb in mouth. She shivered, sucking on her thumb to keep from biting it off, and laid down on the floor. The tile started to glow and warm air radiated from it. Bala had stars in the edges of her vision. She continued to tremble on the warm tile for many minutes later, but soon the heat filled her up. The warm spot on the floor was so refreshing, so relaxing... a haven amidst the tundra around her. Her body began to relax, allowing her aching muscles a reprieve. She sucked softly on her thumb and let sleep take her away from that awful, awful place.

Hi everyone. I don't know if this is really going to be any good, but I have been working on it for a while and I wanted to share it with other ABDLs. If you want to support the Academy stories (there's gonna be a few, I hope!) or get early access to chapters, please go to this Patreon link. It should explain things a little better. Oh and please tell me what you think in the comments! ~Mia~ -------------------- Academy I By Mia Moore "Fear not the star, but the magician that sets it in the sky." -The Source Chapter One Ai Sinclair pressed her back to the tree, gasping for air. Her lungs burned from the inside. The cold November air made her hairs stand on end, even as sweat matted her bangs to her forehead. She turned her head around the trunk of the tree to see the two men in black coats walking toward her. She had to keep running. In a quarter mile, there should be a gas station. She could call the police. With another deep breath, she ran onward through shrubbery and dodging tree branches. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she burst through the tree line and found herself in an expansive parking lot. The lights of the gas station in front of her glowed in the twilight. She took off toward the door as fast as she could. Freedom was behind an automated door, in the hands of an underpaid worker behind a pane of bulletproof glass and only fifty feet away. Forty five feet. And then Ai's feet gave way as the jolt of electricity tore through her spine and seized her muscles up, stopping her in her tracks. The momentum carried her forward, and she skinned her knees on the asphalt of the parking lot. Like wolves circling their fallen prey, the two men in black coats approached and orbited their quarry, one with his hand to an earpiece in his left ear while the other scanned a full perimeter for anybody who might have witnessed. The distant sound of a car engine grew closer. Ai climbed to her hands and knees, but her body twitched uncontrollably. Even if she could force herself to stand up, she wasn't sure she could stay that way. The parking lot around her swayed in her vision and she started to crawl toward the gas station doors. "H-help! Someone!" Ai's voice was harsh in quiet evening air. A man picked Ai up from the ground and stuffed her through the side door of a large approaching van. He slid the door closed behind her, and the van continued like it had never stopped. Though the two men stayed behind in the parking lot, there were several more waiting in the back of the van. The tingling subsided quickly in Ai's fingers and toes. She dove at the door to escape, but two more men held her back as the van sped down the street and toward the freeway. "Let me go! You'll go to prison if you do this! You'll get caught! You won't get away with it!" Nobody said a word to her; the four men all wore dark black slacks with long black coats. They had shaved bald heads and ear pieces in their left ears. It was definitely a uniform, and this was definitely an organized operation. Two of the men forced Ai to the floor of the van and clicked restraints around her wrists and ankles that had been bolted to the frame of the van. As Ai pulled on the restraints, she started to panic. No matter how she thrashed and kicked, she couldn't break free. Every bump the van hit send shivers up her back and it was starting to give her a headache. "Lemme go... please, let me go. I don't know what you want, but... but you can have anything, okay? I don't have much, but... but my purse has some cash, and..." Tears were forming in her eyes. "Please let me go, please..." The movements of the men were methodical, directed, rehearsed and practiced. Ai's begging changed from sobbing words to muffled sounds as a colorful pacifier was pushed between her lips and held in place. A slight burning stung her lips as the glue bonded, and the then a creamy liquid began to ooze across her tongue from the nipple of the pacifier. Ai’s struggles started to fade. The ceiling of the van had colored lights inside, and the frosted glass made them look fuzzy, and pretty, and so very interesting. Her arms felt heavy, her legs felt heavy, her head felt heavy. But she wasn't tired; she was fascinated. It was okay to be fascinated, wasn't it? To find something beautiful in a time like this? Her skin tingled on the outside like her insides had when she'd been electrocuted. Somewhere far far away from her, she could feel herself being undressed. Ai looked up at the brown-haired woman towering over her with a warm smile on her lips. She was wearing a white coat and a pair of thick rimmed glasses. Ai tried to talk, but the bulb between her lips kept her quiet. She reached up to take it out, but her shaking hand couldn't pry the pacifier from her mouth. Where was she? How had she gotten here? Who was this woman? She had only questions, and no means to ask them. The room wasn't strictly clinical, that much was obvious. She was lying on a soft bed, surrounded by soft lighting, an extra and unexplained softness between her thighs, and a soft smile on the woman's lips. "Easy there, munchkin. Try not to move too much now, not while you're still coming to." Ai tried to tug harder on the pacifier, but each tug only pulled at her lips, dripping more tiny droplets of creaminess onto her tongue. The more she defied, the more hopeless she felt. "I'll be happy to remove your binkie, but you need to promise you'll be good for me. Do you promise?" Binkie? Ai furrowed her brow in confusion and looked down at her outfit. She couldn't see the pacifier between her lips, but she could see the rest of it. A pink t-shirt with frills around the hem and puffy sleeves. And no pants. More importantly, a diaper between her legs. It was huge, big enough to fit an adult, but the prints along the plastic had baby blocks and teddy bears. A fresh panic filled Ai's chest, but the woman pushed on the front of the pacifier. A few extra drops of creamy liquid spread across Ai's tongue and her anxiety ebbed away. "Like any adjustment, this is going to take time. It's going to be scary at times, but the better you behave, the sooner it's going to become easy, and then normal. You can fight every step of the way, or you can lean into the help provided and be a good girl. Either way, the destination will be the same - only your journey will change." As she spoke, the woman's voice betrayed more of an accent than it first seemed - something South African, perhaps? Friendly, with compressed inflections. Ai had no idea what she was talking about. What journey? What destination? Why was she dressed like an overgrown baby, and why was she kidnapped in the first place?! Ai wasn't special; she was almost too ordinary. She dropped out of college in her second year and worked as an assistant manager at a grocery store. She had less than a thousand dollars in her bank account and she shared an apartment with her fiancé. Her fiancé! She tugged again at the pacifier, a fresh panic filling her up. She had to know he was okay! "My, you have quite the resistance," the woman said with a curiosity. She pushed the front of the pacifier again and Ai's eyes began to droop. Each time she swallowed droplets of the creamy liquid, Ai felt like waves were pulling her back under the water when she was so close to shore. What was this? Where was she? Who was this woman? Diaper. She was wearing a diaper. She was wearing pretty, soft clothes. Kidnapped. She'd been kidnapped. She tried to blink away the waves, but they were so strong. "I have a feeling you're going to be a troublesome little fighter, aren't you, dear?" The woman stepped out. Out? Ai looked around the room, but there weren't any doors or windows. She stumbled to her feet and almost instantly crashed into the floor. Her body felt so weak, like she hadn't eaten in days. She sucked the pacifier and found an ounce of comfort; a remnant association she had as a baby. She was so hungry. "Oh, did we have an oopsie daisy?" The woman returned, like she'd never left, like she'd always been here. She was dressed in a different top; how long had she been gone? She knelt down next to Ai and reached one hand down between the clumsy girls legs; a motion so smooth and simple that it almost wasn't humiliating except for all the ways that it was. Her fingers slipped into the legband of the diaper and she felt for a moment before pulling them away. Ai Sinclair had just had her diaper checked. "Well, you're not wet. You've become such a heavy wetter in your time here." Truth or lies, who could say? Ai couldn't remember a thing and this woman could have told her anything. Heavy wetter? Time here? Ai had only just arrived! Or at least, that's what she thought. She tried to ask a question, but the pacifier was still firmly glued between her lips. "I bet you're hungry, though." Ai's attention was pulled away from her thoughts and into reality. Food? Her heart raced and her eyes betrayed her excitement. The woman smiled knowingly. "Come over here, dear," the woman was motioning to a very comfortable looking chair on the left hand side of the room, wide enough to accommodate perhaps more than one person. Ai was wearing the same clothes. The same pink shirt. The same blocks and teddy bears on her diaper. She couldn't be exactly sure it was the same diaper, but she wouldn't even consider the alternative. Ai tried to get to her feet, which failed spectacularly. Her knees were trembling and she felt lightheaded. How long had it been since they fed her? Or was the meal at the restaurant the last time she ate? "If you don't come here," the woman told her, "you won't get dinner." Ai's hunger outweighed her pride. She shuffled on her hands and knees across the room, trying her best not to faint. It felt like a strong breeze could knock her out. Finally, she reached the woman's feet and tried again to stand. The woman watched Ai’s attempt to stand, and rather than be disparaging, she was encouraging and supportive. "There you go, dear, you almost have it. Let Nana help." Nana? Ai barely had a chance to register that title before she was lifted up off the floor. She sat dumbfounded on a grown woman's lap, wearing a diaper and a short baby tee. Never in a million years did she think this was where she would be. Never in a million years did she think she would do it so willingly. "I'm going to take the pacifier out of your mouth," Nana said softly. "But if you say even a single word, I will put it back in. I will stop feeding you and you'll go hungry." Ai's stomach sank. No words? But she had so many questions... "I need you to nod your head, dear. Nodding yes and shaking no are the only answers you're allowed. Do you understand?" With a pensive pause, and a groan in her stomach, Ai nodded her head once. Simple. One nod. Nana unbuttoned her jacket, with revealed a series of pockets, and from one pocket she reached in and took what looked much like a marker of some description. Using one finger to hold the pacifier, she used her other hand to run the marker around the edges and after a moment, she pulled the pacifier free. Ai looked up at Nana with annoyance. She had a thousand things on the tip of her tongue. Questions, expletives, statements of fact. The most pressing was, of course: I'm not a baby! But the threat of the pacifier loomed heavily over her, like a guillotine. If she didn't get some food in her, she would pass out. So Ai swallowed her pride and didn't say a word. A blush of embarrassment covered her cheeks. "There's a good girl. You’re learning so well this time." Before that bit of pageantry could sink in too deeply, Nana pulled a jar from inside of her coat and began to unscrew the lid. It looked, through the glass, like the consistency of apple sauce. Or baby food. Dark in color, not the most pleasant looking. Or smelling. Or tasting. And that was the point, wasn't it? It would be this or nothing. And gosh was it a large jar. Ai opened her mouth in protest, but she stopped herself before a word escaped her lips. Even as the sickly stale smell of mashed vegetables filled the air, her stomach growled. If she turned her nose up at this, would Nana give her something else? Probably not. And she was so hungry... "Open wide. Ahhh." Ai shot Nana a sour look as the woman tried feeding Ai with a baby spoon shaped like an airplane. Whatever fucked up place she was stuck in, their intentions were plain: to Nana, Ai was supposed to be a baby. "Unless you'd rather not eat?" Nana tested. With reluctance, Ai opened her mouth. There was nothing quite comparable in consistency to the food that Ai was forced to swallow; thick, inconsistent, like lumpy mashed potato with an earthy, pungent taste. Her mouth pursed in disgust as she mulled it over, needing to mash it up some before she could swallow it. She resolved absolutely never to eat another bite - it wasn't worth it. As she swallowed, though, her mouth tingled pleasantly in the same way that it does after a spicy dish; a humming, buzzing, happy tingling. A heavy sated feeling in her stomach, a warmth. A more-ish feeling. An association building method. Nana smiled, and waited, filling another spoonful. Ai was still so hungry. Even if she hated the food, she had to have another bite. She needed the energy! And before she knew it, Ai had finished off the whole jar of baby food. Her stomach rumbled happily, but she could eat more. Still, Ai hadn't said a single word to Nana. "Wasn't that lovely?” Nana asked. Ai said nothing. "Nod your head, dear. Would you like another? You were such a good little girl, after all, and if you keep being good you can have more." Ai was still hungry, but she had some of her strength back. More importantly, Nana's words were grating at her, like the screeching of nails on a chalkboard. She couldn't take it anymore. "I'm not a baby, you know! You can't keep me here. My family is going to miss me. My fiancé. They probably already know I'm gone! You have to let me go!" Nana allowed Ai to finish her rambling sentiments, and gave her the kind of disappointed look that all children knew from the youngest possible age meant that they'd screwed up. Ai felt her stomach sink and steeled herself. She had to keep going. She had to get through to Nana. "Why are you doing this to me? I don't have any money. I don't have anything! I need to call my fiancé, right now. He's going to worry! Please, let me call him. Please..." Nana reached into her pockets and pulled out a second jar - this one had a mush inside of it that was the most unnaturally looking shade of pink imaginable; like nothing in the world existed in that particular color. She said nothing to Ai, and shook her head slowly. "No, I don't want more food, please, I just want to call my—" Ai was caught by surprise at the spoonful of pink mush pressed into her mouth. She shook her head, now, trying to pull away, to clamp her mouth shut, to keep from eating more, from swallowing, but it was already just a little too late. Her eyelids drooped and she giggled. And swallowed. "Um..." She titled her head, trying to cling onto thoughts, onto protests. "My fi, my fee... fian... fiance, um..." "Is going to think you're the most darling little girl he's ever seen, dear." Ai looked conflicted, like she knew those words weren’t true but wasn't sure why she knew that. She opened her mouth, and swallowed more of the pink food, her cheeks rosy red. "The food, uh, um…" "Is delicious," Nana provided an answer, and added: "It's your favorite." "It's my favorite..." Ai mulled over those words, like she was the last to know. Ai fumbled for words, for thoughts, for something to ground her. But every time she tried to say something, Nana would finish her sentences. Nana's words became the ground, and Ai was glued to them. "I'm not..." "A big girl anymore." Another spoonful. "Please, let me..." "Have another bite." Another spoonful. Soon the jar was gone and Ai couldn't think clearly. Little laughs escaped her lips and she smiled dumbly at her caregiver. "You're going to be filling your diaper soon, dear. You’re so excited, I know you are. You want Nana to hold you in her lap while you do, and bounce you a little bit after, maybe? And then you always did love it when Nana changes you." These words should have set off alarm bells in Ai's head, but they didn't - like someone had cut the wire to the sirens, and a little red light flashing was all that remained; and even then, Nana kept Ai’s gaze away from it. "I... uh..." Ai nodded along, but she wasn't sure what she was agreeing to. The food she was given would definitely have some desired effects, but it could take anywhere from an hour to four hours to do so. The pink food would wear off long before then. It was important Ai was fully aware of herself as she surrendered her control.

Finally getting a chance to tryout the banana trick soon. I’ve read about people using up to 6 whole bananas, and while I’m sure they mean smaller ones, just imagining taking in 6 massive bananas.. only to struggle in attempts not to mess them out. And how long it’d take to push them all out… Will update EDIT: I’m currently sitting diapered up trying to hold everything in. I started with some mini marshmallows to loose up before the first half. A lot of the banana squished but after the first they started to pop in. I did 2 medium bananas and mini marshmallows until I felt super full. Now I’m holding it desperately writing this update. EDIT II: I didn’t end up lasting long, and soon most of the bananas blasted into my diaper. I could still feel more though, and as I got exhausted of pushing, one more half banana log shot out involuntarily. Squishing it around and sitting in it felt amazing and just like the real thing. I then did my business (heh) and cleaned everything up. I have suspicions about more banana being left so I threw on another diaper for a short nap. EDIT III: I think it all came out. It’s partly hard to believe that what came out was nearly 2 whole bananas, but it did basically fill my whole diaper. And inserting them was a bit more trouble than I expected so I thought the thicker ones hadn’t come yet. But in all it was a very nice experiment

Description An introverted volcanologist, Olivia, stumbles across a demon during a hike up a volcano. The demon of humiliation follows her and makes her do embarrassing things such as wetting herself and messing herself. Chapter 1: Olivia’s Volcano Trek in Montserrat The heat was stifling, even through the thick protective suit Olivia wore. Beads of sweat trickled down her forehead, stinging her eyes as she ascended the jagged slopes of the Soufrière Hills volcano. The air was thick with the acrid smell of sulfur, a constant reminder of the volatile power slumbering beneath her feet. Yet, the danger was intoxicating. Olivia thrived on the adrenaline, the thrill of exploring the raw, untamed heart of the earth. Montserrat’s landscape was a testament to the volcano’s might. Lush rainforest abruptly gave way to barren ash fields, scarred by the fury of past eruptions. Olivia’s boots crunched on the brittle ground as she navigated the desolate terrain, her eyes scanning the landscape for signs of activity. Her instruments beeped and whirred, recording every subtle tremor, every shift in temperature, every whisper of the volcano’s breath. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ash fields, Olivia decided to make camp for the night. She settled down in a small depression, shielded from the wind by a jagged outcrop of rock. As darkness fell, she huddled closer to the fire, the flickering flames providing a small haven of warmth in the chilling night air. Suddenly, a bone-chilling cold enveloped her. The fire sputtered and died, plunging her into darkness. A sinister presence seemed to fill the air, a silent menace that prickled the hairs on the back of her neck. Then, she saw it. A figure emerged from the shadows, its form shimmering and shifting like the flames of a dying fire. It was short and gaunt, with eyes that burned like embers. Olivia gasped, her heart pounding in her chest. The figure moved closer, its eyes fixed on her with a malevolent intensity. Olivia tried to scream, but no sound escaped her lips. She was paralyzed with fear, unable to move or even breathe. The figure reached out, its hand glowing with an eerie light. It touched her forehead, and a wave of icy cold washed over her. Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the figure vanished, leaving Olivia trembling and alone in the darkness. The rest of the night was a blur. Olivia stumbled back to base camp at first light, her mind reeling with the terrifying encounter. She boarded the plane home in a daze, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of fear. But the horror wasn’t over. As the plane soared through the clouds, Olivia felt a cold sensation creeping up her legs. She tried to ignore it, but it grew stronger, more insistent. Finally, in a moment of mortifying humiliation, she realised she had wet herself. She rushed to the nearest bathroom with her bag, luckily she carried a extra set of clothes for if she spilt something on herself. She quickly got unclothed, cleaned herself and put on the fresh pair of clothes before quickly stuffing her bag with the soiled pants and panties along with her other clothes. As Olivia stepped off the plane onto British soil, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still being watched. The unseen presence that had tormented her on the volcano seemed to have followed her home. She knew, with a bone-chilling certainty, that her ordeal was far from over. Chapter 2: Arriving Home The taxi pulled up to the curb, its engine sputtering into silence. Olivia stepped out onto the familiar pavement, the cool evening air a stark contrast to the volcanic heat she had recently escaped. She lugged her heavy suitcase up the path, her keys jingling in her trembling hand. With a sigh of relief, she unlocked the door and stepped into the comforting darkness of her home. The house was silent, save for the gentle ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway. Olivia flicked on the light switch, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. She dragged her suitcase into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa, exhaustion washing over her. But the unease that had settled in her gut on the plane refused to dissipate. A cold dread clung to her like a second skin, a constant reminder of the unseen presence that haunted her. With a sigh, Olivia pushed herself off the sofa and headed towards the kitchen, hoping a cup of tea would soothe her frayed nerves. As she entered the brightly lit room, her heart lurched. There, perched casually on the kitchen counter, was the demon. It hadn’t changed. It was still the same gaunt figure, with eyes that burned like coals. It watched her with a chilling intensity, a smirk playing on its lips. Olivia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a scream. “Surprised to see me?” the demon purred, her voice like the rasp of dry leaves. Chapter 3: Olivia’s Not So Welcoming Guest “Aw, did I scare you wittle Olivia? Make you wet your panties like a baby on the plane?” the demon sneered, its voice dripping with malice. “Don’t worry, it’s only going to get worse. Maybe you’ll need these to keep you dry.” It held up an adult diaper, its own grotesque face leering from the front, surrounded by erupting volcanoes. Olivia’s voice cracked as she spoke, her body trembling with a mixture of fear and fury. “Why are you doing this to me? What did I ever do to you?” She clenched her fists, her eyes flashing with defiance. “This is wrong. You can’t just invade my life and humiliate me. I won’t let you!” “Such anger,” the demon murmured, feigning concern. “Is it because you can’t control your bladder, or is there something else troubling you, dear? Perhaps I can help alleviate your distress… if you’re willing to cooperate.” Olivia gasped, her legs trembling as she realized she was wetting herself again. “Please,” she begged, her voice barely a whisper. “What do you want from me? Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it, just please stop this!” A dark shadow fell over the demon’s face as it spoke. “You will obey me, Olivia. You will wear the diapers, and you will do so without complaint. Failure to comply will result in… consequences.” Its voice trailed off, leaving the unspoken threat hanging in the air. Olivia’s voice trembled despite her defiant words. “No, no, no!” she cried, backing away from the demon. “I won’t do it! I refuse! You can’t make me wear those… those things. I’m not a baby anymore!” “Well, well, well,” the demon drawled, its voice thick with sarcasm. “Looks like someone needs a little assistance with their wardrobe.” It snapped its fingers, and Olivia found herself clad in the demon’s personalized diaper. “Voila! A fashion statement fit for a queen… or should I say, a baby?” The demon chortled, revelling in Olivia’s mortification. Olivia’s body shook with rage and humiliation as she futilely tugged at the diaper. “This is wrong!” she screamed, her voice echoing through the house. “You can’t do this to me! I’m not your plaything! You have no right!” The diaper was not coming off of her. “This is just the beginning, Olivia,” the demon cackled, its voice filled with glee. “You will wear this diaper as a constant reminder of your helplessness. And when you’ve had enough, when you’re broken and begging for release, then you may grovel at my feet for a changing.” With a final, mocking bow, the demon vanished, leaving Olivia trapped in her degrading predicament wearing just a diaper and t-shirt. Chapter 4: On Purpose The moment the demon vanished, a burning thirst overtook Olivia. Her throat felt like parchment, her mouth a desert. She stumbled to the kitchen, diaper crinkling, her hands shaking as she filled glass after glass with water, gulping it down desperately. A wave of nausea followed, a sickening realization dawning upon her. This was the demon’s game. The thirst, the diaper – it was all a cruel ploy to break her. And with the amount of water she’d consumed, she knew she’d soon be wetting her diaper. Olivia’s stomach churned as the realization hit her like a punch to the gut. Damn it, she thought, her voice catching in her throat. She had to find a way to avoid soiling this diaper. A walk, maybe? Fresh air might clear her head. She waddled into the living room, the diaper’s plastic crinkling with each awkward step. Reaching the stairs, she gripped the banister, hauling herself up one agonizing step at a time. In her bedroom, she grabbed a pair of jeans, relief flooding her as she managed to pull them up over the bulky diaper. But as soon as the zipper closed, the denim vanished, leaving her exposed once more. “No!” she cried, a sob escaping her lips. They were her favorite jeans, a soft, worn reminder of simpler times. Now, she was trapped in this infernal diaper, a prisoner in her own home. The thought of venturing outside, of facing the world’s judgment with a demon’s face plastered across her backside, on a diaper of all things, was unbearable. Despair washed over her, threatening to drown her in its icy depths. She needed a distraction, something to anchor her to reality. Spotting her old colouring book on the shelf, she snatched it up. Flipping through the pages, her eyes landed on a familiar image: a volcano, its slopes bathed in fiery reds and oranges. A bitter laugh escaped her lips. Volcanoes used to be her passion, her refuge. Now, they were a symbol of her torment. The volcano on the coloring page stared back at Olivia, a mocking reminder of her predicament. Crayons in hand, she tried to focus, but her thoughts kept returning to the demon’s taunting words and the humiliating diaper encasing her. Each rustle of the plastic felt like a brand, a constant reminder of her helplessness. Desperate for a distraction, she dumped out a jigsaw puzzle, hoping the intricate pieces would occupy her mind. For a while, it worked. But as the image of a tranquil meadow began to take shape, a familiar pressure built in her bladder. Olivia squirmed, squeezing her thighs together, her focus shattering. The potty dance she’d outgrown decades ago made a reappearance, a desperate attempt to hold back the inevitable. But the urge became unbearable, a searing pain radiating through her lower abdomen. With a defeated sigh, Olivia released a tiny trickle, hoping to relieve the pressure and stop after. But the floodgates opened, and a warm steady stream poured into the diaper, she was soaking the absorbent padding on purpose. The heat spread through her groin and to her bum, a mix of shame and a strange, forbidden thrill. It was a surrender, a perverse fulfilment of the demon’s twisted desire. Olivia stood over the jigsaw puzzle, the sodden diaper clinging to her skin, a warm, but cold reminder of her degradation. The stench of urine filled her nostrils, a wave of shame washing over her. She couldn’t stay like this, wallowing in her own filth. With renewed determination, she tugged at the diaper’s fastenings, her nails digging into the unyielding plastic. A desperate trip to the kitchen yielded a pair of scissors, but even those proved useless against the demon’s magic. Trapped, defeated, she sank to the floor, the wet diaper chilling her princess parts. Never in her life had she felt so violated, so utterly helpless. Yet, a flicker of defiance remained. She wouldn’t let this demon break her. Returning to the puzzle, she forced her mind to focus on the remaining pieces. As the final piece clicked into place, a triumphant smile briefly touched her lips, quickly replaced by a gnawing hunger. Her stomach rumbled, demanding attention. The diaper squished and crinkled unpleasantly with each step as she made her way back to the kitchen. Wrenching open the fridge, she grabbed the container of prune stew she’d prepared before her trip. She devoured it greedily, the sweetness a temporary comfort. Avocado toast followed, the familiar routine offering a semblance of normalcy in this bizarre, degrading situation. Chapter 5: Uh oh… Olivia pushed away her empty plate, a wave of nausea replacing her hunger. As if summoned by her discomfort, the demon reappeared, a fresh diaper dangling from its bony fingers. “Ready to admit defeat, little one?” its voice oozed with smug satisfaction. “All it takes is a simple plea. Just ask nicely, and I’ll grant you the sweet relief of a clean diaper.” Olivia’s cheeks burned with shame, but defiance hardened her voice. “I’ll never beg you for anything,” she retorted. “Get me out of this diaper, now!” The demon’s smile widened, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth. “Oh, but you belong in it, don’t you, Olivia?” It gestured towards the dampness spreading across her thighs. “You’ve already proven that.” Olivia’s gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet the demon’s taunting eyes. A fresh wave of humiliation washed over her. “And here’s a little secret,” the demon continued, its voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “That prune stew you just devoured? It’s going to make you… well, let’s just say you’ll be needing a change sooner rather than later. See you bright and early tomorrow, Olivia.” With a final, mocking chuckle, the demon vanished, leaving Olivia frozen in horror. The implications of its words hit her like a thunderbolt. She’d wet the diaper, and now… now she was going to soil it. The thought was unbearable, a new level of degradation she hadn’t anticipated. “No,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible. But it was too late. The demon was gone, and Olivia was left alone to face the consequences of her actions, her stomach churning with dread, shame and stew. Panic rising in her throat, Olivia bolted from the kitchen, her sodden diaper slapping against her thighs. She needed a plan, a way to escape this humiliating fate. But the demon’s words echoed in her ears, a cruel reminder of her powerlessness. “You’ll be needing a change sooner rather than later.” Her frantic search for a solution led her to the bathroom, where she frantically rummaged through drawers and cabinets. Toilet paper, sanitary pads, even a plunger—nothing seemed capable of staving off the inevitable. A wave of nausea swept over her, a visceral reaction to the thought of soiling herself in front of the demon. She collapsed onto the cold tile floor, tears welling in her eyes. Was this really happening? Was this her life now, at the mercy of a sadistic demon and a humiliating diaper? Time seemed to warp and stretch as Olivia sat huddled on the bathroom floor, her mind a whirlwind of panic and humiliation. The initial wave of nausea subsided, replaced by a dull ache in her lower abdomen. She knew what was coming, but the thought of succumbing to the demon’s twisted game filled her with a visceral revulsion. Minutes turned into an agonizing eternity. The pressure in her bowels intensified, each gurgle a symphony of impending doom. A cold sweat broke out on her forehead, and her legs trembled with the effort of holding back. She squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers digging into her thighs, a desperate attempt to maintain control. But it was a losing battle. With a defeated groan, Olivia finally relented, her body betraying her resolve. A warm, viscous substance oozed into the diaper, a sickening contrast to the chill of her fear-soaked skin. The stench filled the small bathroom, a pungent reminder of what she just did in her diaper. She buried her face in her hands, sobs wracking her body. The demon had won, for now. But deep within her, a spark of defiance remained, a tiny ember refusing to be extinguished. Exhaustion finally claimed Olivia, her body collapsing onto the bed, the soiled diaper a heavy, shameful weight against her skin. Sleep came fitfully, plagued by nightmares of the demon’s leering face and the suffocating stench of her own waste. Each toss and turn was a reminder of her predicament, the diaper chafing against her raw skin, a constant source of discomfort and humiliation. She had succumbed to the demon’s twisted game, her own actions fuelling its cruel amusement. The weight of her shame was crushing, a dark cloud suffocating her spirit. Yet, even in the depths of her despair, a flicker of defiance refused to die. This was not the end, she vowed silently. She would find a way to break free, to reclaim her dignity and her life. Chapter 6: You got me begging… Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the bedroom. Olivia stirred, a groan escaping her lips as she tried to stretch her cramped limbs. But something was amiss, a sticky warmth clinging to her skin, a foul odor invading her nostrils. Memories of the previous night flooded back, and a wave of nausea washed over her. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” a voice purred, its honeyed sweetness a jarring contrast to the demon’s grotesque form. Olivia jumped as her eyes snapped open, her gaze colliding with the demon perched on the edge of her bed. It wore a sickeningly cheerful grin, its eyes gleaming with sadistic amusement. “How was your night? Did you sleep well?” Olivia recoiled, pulling the soiled diaper closer to her body, a futile attempt to shield herself from the demon’s scrutiny. “Go away,” she croaked, her voice raspy from sleep and shame. “Oh, come on now, don’t be like that,” the demon chided, its voice dripping with mock concern. “We have so much to discuss. After all, it’s a big day for you, isn’t it? Your first full day in diapers.” Olivia’s cheeks flushed with a mixture of anger and humiliation. “Leave me alone,” she hissed, her voice barely a whisper. She tried to sit up, but the diaper’s weight and the lingering nausea held her back. “Oh, come on, Olivia,” the demon coaxed, its voice dripping with false sympathy. “You can’t stay in that dirty diaper all day. It’s uncomfortable, unsanitary, and… well, frankly, it smells awful.” Olivia clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. The demon was right, of course. She desperately needed a change, but the thought of begging for it, of submitting to its twisted game, made her stomach churn. The demon leaned closer, its breath hot against Olivia’s skin. “Just ask me nicely, Olivia. Say the words, and I’ll grant you relief.” A war raged within Olivia. Pride and defiance battled against the overwhelming urge for cleanliness and comfort. Finally, her resolve crumbled. “Please,” she choked out, the word tasting like poison on her tongue. “Please change me.” The demon recoiled, its grin twisting into a sneer. “That’s not how you ask for a favor, Olivia,” it chided, its voice sharp as a whip. “Where’s the gratitude? The humility? The desperate plea for my mercy?” Olivia’s cheeks burned with renewed shame. She swallowed hard, the words sticking in her throat like jagged shards of glass. “Please,” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. “Please, master, would you be so kind as to change my diaper?” The demon cocked its head, studying her with a critical eye. “Better,” it conceded, “but not quite there yet. You need to sound more… pathetic. More desperate. More like the helpless creature you’ve become.” Tears welled up in Olivia’s eyes, her voice thick with emotion as she spoke. “Master, I am nothing without you,” she choked out. “I beg of you, please grant me this small mercy. I am filthy and unworthy, but I plead for your kindness. Please change my diaper.” The demon’s smile returned, a predatory glint in its eyes. “That’s more like it,” it purred, snapping its fingers. A fresh diaper materialized in its hand, its design identical to the soiled one. “I like it when the new ones beg for diapers. Now, be a good girl and lie still.” Olivia obeyed, her body trembling as the demon slowly and deliberately changed her diaper, its touch lingeringly cold and impersonal. “Could have just clicked my fingers,” it purred, its voice dripping with sadistic amusement. “But where’s the fun in that? A snap of my fingers, and poof! No mess, no fuss. But where’s the entertainment in that? Seeing you squirm, begging for my help… now that’s truly delightful.” The demon chuckled, a sound like nails scraping down a chalkboard, and held the soiled diaper up, the stench assaulting Olivia’s nose with renewed intensity. A cruel grin spread across the demon’s face. “Well, well, well, look at the state of you. Seems like you made quite a mess last night, didn’t you, little one? Perhaps you underestimated your ability to hold it. Or maybe you reveled in the mess a little too much, making a game of it all. You naughty little girl.” Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, tears threatening to spill over. The demon’s words were like acid, burning away her last shreds of dignity. The demon cackled, a sound that sent shivers down Olivia’s spine. With practiced ease, it used a wet wipe to clean her princess parts and her bum, its touch rough and impersonal. “Hold still,” it commanded, its voice devoid of any warmth. Once Olivia was clean, the demon barked, “Legs up!” and waited impatiently for her to comply. With trembling hands, Olivia lifted her legs, offering a brief glimpse of her exposed bum. The demon wasted no time, swiftly sliding the fresh diaper underneath her. It then sprinkled a layer of baby powder over her princess parts and bum, the cool powder a stark contrast to the burning shame radiating from her core. Finally, with a flourish, the demon lifted the front over crotch and snapped the diaper tapes into place, securing it snugly around her waist. “There you go, all clean and… well, relatively fresh,” it sneered, sniffing the old soiled diaper in the air with exaggerated disgust. “But remember, Olivia,” it added, its voice dripping with false sympathy, “accidents happen to the best of us, especially when they’re wearing diapers like a little baby. And when those accidents happen, you’ll know exactly how to beg for my… assistance.” The demon’s grin widened, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth. As it leaned in close, its breath reeking of sulfur, it whispered, “And make sure you beg well, because the consequences for disobedience are… unpleasant, to say the least.” With a final, lingering stroke of her cheek, the demon vanished, leaving Olivia alone with the lingering stench of shame from her soiled diaper next to her and the chilling realization that this was only the beginning of her torment. Chapter 7: The Demon’s Assistant Despite the lingering trauma of the demon’s touch, Olivia found herself oddly relieved to be in a fresh diaper. The clean, dry sensation against her skin was a stark contrast to the soiled diaper that now lay discarded on the floor, a tangible reminder of her humiliation. A wave of exhaustion washed over her, the emotional turmoil of the past hours taking its toll. She crawled back under her covers, the fresh diaper a small comfort amidst the chaos. Sleep came easier this time, her dreams less haunted by the demon’s menacing presence. As the morning sun streamed through her window, Olivia woke with a renewed sense of determination. She wouldn’t let the demon control her life. She would find a way to break free from this twisted game, to reclaim her dignity and independence. A loud knocking at the door startled her, interrupting her thoughts. Could it be the demon again, so soon? She cautiously approached the door, her heart pounding in her chest. Olivia cautiously cracked open the front door, shielding her diaper-clad body from view. “Package for Olivia Parker?” a cheerful voice chirped. “Yes, thank you,” Olivia mumbled, snatching the box and swiftly closing the door. A wave of relief washed over her. Just some LED lights she’d ordered before her disastrous trip. A perfect distraction from her current predicament. Parcel tucked under her arm, she turned towards the stairs, only to be halted by another insistent knock. With a frustrated sigh, she set the box down and yanked open the door. “Lucille,” a woman declared, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness, “the Demon’s assistant. I’ll be coming in now.” Before Olivia could protest, the woman swept past her, her movements a whirlwind of chiffon and perfume. “Excuse me!” Olivia sputtered, indignation rising in her throat. But her protest was cut short as the woman—Lucille—snapped her fingers. In a flash, a bright pink pacifier appeared in Olivia’s mouth, silencing her. She gagged, her fingers clawing at the plastic, but to no avail. The more she struggled, the tighter her mouth clamped around the pacifier, her own body betraying her. Humiliation flooded her as she realized she was now not only trapped in a diaper but also reduced to an infantile state with the pacifier. Lucille surveyed Olivia with a critical eye, her lips pursed in disapproval. “Well, well, well,” she drawled, circling her like a predator sizing up its prey. “Looks like someone’s been a naughty girl. Didn’t your master teach you any manners?” Olivia glared at her through the pacifier, a silent fury burning in her eyes. She tried to speak, but the pacifier rendered her words into muffled, infantile gurgles. Lucille chuckled, a sound like wind chimes laced with venom. “Don’t worry, darling,” she cooed, patting Olivia’s head with a manicured hand. “I’m here to help you adjust to your new… lifestyle. The Demon has big plans for you, and I’m here to ensure you’re properly prepared.” She snapped her fingers again, and a mountain of baby supplies materialized in the middle of the living room: stacks of diapers, bottles filled with a milky liquid, jars of pureed food, and an assortment of pastel-colored toys. Olivia’s eyes widened in horror as Lucille began unpacking the items, her movements efficient and practiced. “Now, now, don’t look so glum,” Lucille chirped, her voice gratingly cheerful. “This is just the beginning. You’re going to have so much fun with all these new toys, aren’t you, sweetie?” She picked up a rattle shaped like a volcano, shaking it enticingly in front of Olivia’s face. Olivia recoiled, her disgust evident even through the pacifier. This was a nightmare, a grotesque mockery of her life. But as Lucille continued to unpack the supplies, a chilling realization dawned on her. This wasn’t a temporary punishment; this was the demon’s vision for her future. A future filled with diapers, baby formula, baby food, and the constant presence of Lucille. Lucille perched herself on the arm of the sofa, her gaze fixed on Olivia like a scientist observing a lab specimen. “Now, Olivia, darling,” she began, her voice a sickeningly sweet melody, “let’s talk about our new arrangement.” Olivia, still struggling fruitlessly against the pacifier, let out a muffled growl of frustration. “Oh, hush now, there’s no need for that,” Lucille chided, her tone saccharine but her eyes cold. “I’m here to help you, after all.” She leaned forward, her words dripping with condescension. “From now on, I’ll be your… caregiver, shall we say? I’ll be in charge of all your needs – feeding, changing, playtime, even bath time.” A sly smile curled on her lips. “And of course, discipline when necessary. Maybe even rewards! However, the Demon expects complete obedience, you understand?” Olivia’s eyes widened in horror. This was worse than she could have imagined. Lucille, with her patronizing tone and condescending touch, was to be her constant companion, her jailer in this infantile prison. “Don’t worry, darling,” Lucille cooed, misinterpreting Olivia’s silence. “You’ll get used to it. You’ll learn to love your new life, with all its simple pleasures and childish delights.” She picked up a teddy bear from the pile of baby supplies, its beady eyes seeming to mock Olivia’s despair. Olivia shook her head violently, tears streaming down her face. This was not her life, not who she was. She was a scientist, a volcanologist, a woman with a career and a future. But the pacifier in her mouth prevented any protest, any plea for reason. All she could do was watch helplessly as Lucille laid out the grim reality of her new, demeaning existence. Lucille reached out a manicured hand, her fingers pinching the pacifier between Olivia’s lips. With a swift tug, she removed it, a triumphant smirk on her face. “There now,” she purred. “Don’t you feel better already?” Olivia gasped, her lungs filling with air from her mouth for the first time in what felt like hours. “You can’t do this!” she cried, her voice hoarse with emotion. “This is wrong! It’s insane!” Lucille raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Insane? Perhaps. But it’s also the Demon’s will, and as his humble servant, I’m merely following orders. Besides,” she added, her voice dripping with condescension, “you seem to be adjusting quite well already. Look at you, in your pretty little diaper, sucking on your pacifier like a good girl.” Olivia’s cheeks burned with shame, but anger fuelled her defiance. “I’m not a baby! I’m a grown woman, a scientist! This is degrading and humiliating!” Lucille shrugged, her expression nonchalant. “Oh, darling, we all have our roles to play in this grand cosmic drama. Yours just happens to be a bit more… infantile. But don’t worry, you’ll soon learn to embrace your new identity. And who knows,” she added with a wink, “you might even find that you enjoy it.” Olivia’s stomach churned with disgust. The thought of finding any pleasure in this twisted situation was abhorrent. But as she met Lucille’s gaze, a cold fear settled in her heart. She knew, with a bone-chilling certainty, that this was just the beginning of her ordeal. The demon and its assistant had a plan for her, and she knew now that she was powerless to stop them. A sudden warmth spread through Olivia’s diaper, the familiar sensation of wetness bringing a fresh wave of humiliation. She looked up at Lucille, who wore a triumphant smirk, confirming Olivia’s worst fears. “See?” Lucille purred, her voice a chilling melody. “You can’t control it anymore, darling. One minute you’ll be playing with your toys, the next… whoops! A little accident. Such a shame for a grown woman, wouldn’t you agree?” She leaned closer, her breath ghosting over Olivia’s ear. “But don’t worry, sweetie. You’ll get used to the constant wetness, the never-ending cycle of shame and dependency. Welcome to your new life, Olivia. It’s going to be a messy one, now that’s for sure.” The demon chuckles at her humiliation. Chapter 8: Who’s Humiliation? Yourmiliation. Olivia’s cheeks burned as the warmth spread through her diaper, a mixture of shame and anger coursing through her veins. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but the pacifier quickly appeared in her mouth stifling any protest. Her eyes, filled with a mix of defiance and despair, locked onto Lucille’s mocking gaze. Lucille, sensing Olivia’s inner turmoil, continued her cruel taunts. “Oh, don’t be so glum, darling,” she cooed, patting Olivia’s head condescendingly. “It’s only pee, after all. It’s a natural bodily function, even for big girls like you. But now, you’ll have to rely on me, your ever-so-capable assistant, to clean up your little messes. How thrilling!” A wicked gleam entered Lucille’s eyes as she reached for a diaper bag overflowing with supplies. “Don’t worry, though,” she chirped, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. “I’ve brought everything we need to keep you nice and dry. After all, we wouldn’t want your pretty little bottom getting sore, would we?” She paused, a sly smile spreading across her face. “But first, let’s see how well you can crawl. Maybe a little spanking will motivate you? A nice, firm reminder of the consequences for disobeying your new caretaker.” She tauntingly said as a menacing paddle appeared in her hand. The thought of being spanked like a child sent a shiver down Olivia’s spine. She had always been fiercely independent, a woman who commanded respect in her field. Now, reduced to a crawling infant, she was at the mercy of this sadistic caretaker. With a heavy heart, she obeyed, lowering herself onto her hands and knees. The crinkling of the wet diaper against her skin was a constant reminder of her humiliation. “That’s a good girl,” Lucille praised, her voice laced with a sickeningly sweet tone. “Now crawl, Olivia. Show me how eager you are to please.” The assistant pointed towards a pile of diapers at the other end of the room, a wicked glint in her eye. Olivia, fuelled by a mix of shame and defiance, began to crawl, pacifier in mouth. Each movement rocked her wet diaper back and fourth against her princess parts, she felt herself getting hot and bothered. She wanted to reach inside of her diaper and touch herself, but she shook her head and gritted her teeth, focusing on the pile of diapers, a beacon of hope in this degrading ordeal. With each agonizing inch, she prayed for the strength to endure this humiliation, clinging to the belief that she would find a way to break free from this twisted game before she actually started to enjoy it. Lucille watched Olivia’s progress with a predatory grin. “Not bad, darling,” she purred. “But you could be faster. Remember, the quicker you get there, the quicker you’ll be out of that soggy mess.” Olivia’s muscles burned with exertion, but she pushed herself onward. The diaper, heavy with urine, rubbed against her sensitive skin, a constant reminder of her helplessness. She reached out, her fingertips brushing against the edge of a diaper package, a spark of hope igniting within her. But just as she was about to grasp it, Lucille’s foot came down on top of the package, pinning it to the floor. Olivia looked up, her eyes pleading for mercy, but Lucille only laughed, a cold, hollow sound that echoed through the room. “Not so fast, little one,” she said, her voice dripping with malice. “You haven’t earned your reward yet. A few more laps should do the trick.” She felt her heart flutter as well as her princess parts as she turned around. Olivia whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes. She was exhausted, humiliated, and desperate for relief from the sodden diaper clinging to her skin. The smell of urine was overwhelming, filling her nostrils with each ragged breath. Lucille, however, seemed to revel in Olivia’s discomfort. “Aww, is the little baby feeling icky?” she cooed, her voice a sickening blend of mockery and amusement. “Did the naughty girl have an accident? Don’t worry, darling, a few more laps and you’ll be rewarded with a nice, fresh diaper. Or maybe you enjoy the feeling of that warm wetness against your skin?” Olivia’s face burned with shame and curiosity. Did Lucille know she was getting turned on? But she refused to give Lucille the satisfaction of seeing her cry. With a defiant snarl, she resumed her crawl, the soggy diaper squishing and rubbing against her parts more and more with every movement. Olivia let out a little moan as she crawled. As Olivia continued her humiliating crawl, a strange sensation began to emerge from the discomfort. The constant friction of the diaper against her sensitive skin, initially a source of irritation, was now sparking a warmth that spread through her lower body. Each movement, each shift of her hips, ignited a flicker of pleasure she hadn’t anticipated. A wave of confusion washed over her. She was disgusted by the situation, mortified by her own incontinence, yet her body was betraying her, responding to the forbidden stimulation with a growing warmth. She tried to suppress the feeling, to focus on the anger and humiliation, but the pleasure was insistent, a siren song luring her towards a dangerous precipice. Lucille, ever observant, noticed the subtle change in Olivia’s demeanor. A knowing smirk spread across her face. “Oh, I see,” she purred, her voice laced with amusement. “Looks like someone’s starting to enjoy herself. Perhaps there’s hope for you yet, little one.” She leaned closer, her breath hot against Olivia’s ear. “Embrace the sensation, darling. It’s only going to get better from here. Crawl faster!” The demon’s assistant clapped her hands together, the sound echoing through the silent house. “Well, well, well,” she chirped, her voice dripping with feigned delight. “Looks like someone’s finally getting the hang of this. But we can’t have you dilly-dallying now, can we, darling? Pick up the pace! Your reward awaits, but only for those who earn it.” Olivia, caught between mortification and a growing sense of arousal, obeyed. She quickened her pace, her hands and knees hitting the floor with rhythmic thuds. The diaper, now saturated, clung to her like a second skin, the friction against her most intimate areas intensifying with each movement. She gritted her teeth, a low moan escaping her lips as the pleasure became almost unbearable. Lucille’s laughter filled the room, a cruel melody that fueled Olivia’s growing shame. “That’s it, darling,” she encouraged, her voice laced with a sadistic glee. “Crawl for me. Crawl like the good little baby you are. The faster you go, the sooner you’ll be rewarded. But remember,” she added with a menacing edge, “if you stop, the punishment will be severe.” Driven by a potent cocktail of humiliation, desperation, and a dark, forbidden pleasure, Olivia surged forward, her limbs moving faster than she thought possible. The room blurred around her, the only focus the pile of diapers looming closer with each frantic crawl. A tingling sensation built within her, a familiar pressure that she knew she couldn’t hold back any longer. With a gasp, she reached the pile, collapsing onto the soft, absorbent mound. The dam finally broke, and a torrent of warm liquid flooded her diaper, she sucked on her pacifier harder as she squirted into the pee-soaked diaper closing her eyes with pleasure. A shudder wracked her body, a mix of shame and undeniable relief. She had lost control, given in to the demon’s twisted game, yet a part of her revelled in the orgasm she just had in her pissy diaper. Lucille clapped her hands, her laughter echoing through the room. “Bravo, Olivia!” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Such a good girl. Now, wasn’t that so much better than holding it in?” She leaned down, her face inches from Olivia’s, a predatory gleam in her eyes. “But remember, darling, this is just the beginning. There are so many more ways for you to please me. So many more messes for you to make.” Lucille pressed her hand against Olivia’s diaper, rubbing it firmly through the wet fabric. “And we’ll have a lot of fun cleaning them up together. Won’t we, little one?” Lucille, sensing Olivia’s heightened vulnerability, plucked the pacifier from her mouth with a triumphant flourish. “Well, well, well,” she cooed, a wicked glint in her eyes. “Someone seems to be enjoying her new reality. Tell me, Olivia, are you ready to be a good little girl and obey my every command?” Olivia, still flushed with pleasure and shame, nodded eagerly, her voice a high-pitched squeak. “Yes, yes!” she chirped, her words barely coherent. “I’ll be good, I promise!” Lucille chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down Olivia’s spine. “I’m sure you will, darling,” she purred. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?” With practiced efficiency, Lucille peeled away the soiled diaper, a wave of embarrassment washing over Olivia as the stench filled the air. The demon’s assistant tutted disapprovingly, her eyes narrowing in disgust. “Someone’s been a messy little girl,” she scolded, her voice laced with sarcasm. Olivia’s cheeks burned with shame. The brief moment of pleasure had evaporated, replaced by a deep sense of humiliation and self-loathing. Disgusting. How could she have let herself get to that point? The smell of her own waste filled her nostrils, a constant reminder of her degradation. She squeezed her eyes shut, the image of the overflowing diaper a horrifying tableau burned into her mind. Had she really just gotten off on crawling around like a baby, whimpering for a diaper change? Shame radiated from her core, a sickening heat that threatened to consume her whole. But beneath the shame, a flicker of something else remained – a morbid curiosity, a twisted echo of the pleasure she had experienced. It was a terrifying realization, a seed of darkness planted in her mind by Lucille’s cruel game. The touch of the wet wipes against her skin snapped Olivia out of her momentary haze. Reality crashed back in, a harsh wave of disgust and despair. She gritted her teeth, tears welling in her eyes. This wasn’t her, this wasn’t who she was. But as Lucille fastened a fresh diaper around her waist, the crinkling of the plastic a stark reminder of her new reality, Olivia knew she was trapped in a nightmare with no end in sight. Chapter 9: Playing With Teddy The clean diaper did nothing to alleviate Olivia’s despair. The crinkling plastic only amplified her humiliation, a constant reminder of her infantilized state. As Lucille stepped back to admire her handiwork, Olivia’s mind raced, searching for a way out of this twisted game. “There,” Lucille chirped, her voice gratingly cheerful. “All clean and dry, just like a little baby.” She paused, her eyes narrowing as she studied Olivia’s face. “But you don’t seem very happy about it, darling. Is something wrong?” Olivia glared at her, a silent fury burning in her eyes. She wanted to scream, to curse, to lash out, but the pacifier in her mouth stifled any sound. Her only response was a defiant shake of her head, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Lucille’s smile faltered, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. “Oh, come now, Olivia,” she chided, her voice taking on a sharper edge. “Don’t be difficult. We have so much fun planned for you today.” She gestured towards a pile of colorful clothes on the bed, a collection of frilly dresses and oversized t-shirts adorned with cartoon characters. Olivia’s eyes widened in horror as she recognized the outfits. They were the epitome of childishness, the kind of clothes she hadn’t worn since she was a toddler. A fresh wave of humiliation washed over her as she realized what Lucille had in store. “Now, darling,” Lucille purred, picking up a particularly garish pink dress with a matching bonnet. “Let’s get you dressed for the day. It’s time for you to embrace your new role, Olivia. The role of a sweet, innocent little girl.” Olivia shook her head violently, the pacifier bobbing against her lips as she let out a muffled protest. She would not wear those ridiculous clothes. She would not be reduced to a caricature of childhood innocence. Lucille’s patience was wearing thin. “Olivia,” she warned, her voice laced with steel. “Don’t make this difficult. Put on the dress, or I’ll have to find other ways to persuade you.” Olivia’s defiance wavered. She knew Lucille was capable of cruelty, of finding new and inventive ways to humiliate her. But the thought of parading around in those childish clothes was almost too much to bear. “Fine,” she mumbled through the pacifier, her voice barely audible. “I’ll wear the dress.” A triumphant smile spread across Lucille’s face. “That’s a good girl,” she cooed, her voice dripping with condescension. “Now, let’s get you dressed and ready for playtime.” Olivia stood there, her head bowed in shame as Lucille helped her into the frilly pink dress. The fabric felt cheap and scratchy against her skin, a stark contrast to the comfortable clothes she was used to wearing. The bonnet, with its ridiculous oversized bow, was the final indignity. She felt like a clown, a mockery of her former self. As Lucille led Olivia towards the playpen, the plastic structure loomed before her like a miniature prison. The brightly colored bars mocked her with their childish cheerfulness, a stark contrast to the cold, sterile feeling that emanated from the interior. Inside, a collection of baby toys lay scattered on the floor, their plastic forms gleaming in the harsh light. Olivia knew what awaited her: forced playtime, infantile games designed to further humiliate her and chip away at her remaining sense of self. The playpen wasn’t just a confinement; it was a symbol of her new reality, a place where her mind and body would be moulded into something unrecognizable. Before leaving Olivia to her fate, Lucille produced a baby bottle filled with a milky white liquid. “Here you go, darling,” she chirped, thrusting the bottle into Olivia’s hands. “A little snack to keep you fueled during playtime. Make sure you finish it before I get back, or there will be consequences.” Olivia eyed the bottle with disgust. The thought of drinking baby formula, of being treated like an infant, made her stomach churn. But the memory of Lucille’s earlier threats was still fresh in her mind. She knew better than to disobey. “And remember,” Lucille added with a sly smile, “milk always makes babies need a diaper change. So don’t be surprised if you find yourself feeling a little… wet… soon. It’s all part of the fun, isn’t it?” She winked, a gesture that sent a chill down Olivia’s spine. With a final, mocking pat on the head, Lucille left Olivia alone in the playpen, the bottle of formula a heavy weight in her trembling hand. Olivia stared at the milky liquid, her mind racing. She had to find a way out of this, a way to escape the demon’s clutches and reclaim her life. But for now, she had to play along, to survive this twisted game until she could find a way to fight back. With a deep breath, she raised the bottle to her lips, the taste of the formula a bitter reminder of her powerlessness. The formula, surprisingly, wasn’t as repulsive as Olivia had anticipated. It was sweet, cloying, and left a sticky residue on her lips. As she drained the last few drops, a warmth spread through her lower abdomen. It was the familiar, dreaded feeling, the precursor to another humiliating episode of incontinence. She tried to hold it back, to clench her muscles and resist the urge, but it was futile. A warm trickle escaped, followed by a steady stream. The diaper quickly became saturated, the heavy, wet sensation a stark reminder of her helplessness. Just as Olivia was sinking into despair, the door creaked open. Lucille swept into the room, her eyes scanning Olivia with predatory interest. “Well, well, well,” she purred, her voice laced with amusement. “Looks like someone couldn’t hold her tinkles. Did the yummy milk make the baby girl tinkle in her diaper? Tell me what you’ve done little girl.” Olivia’s cheeks burned with shame, a tear tracing a hot path down her cheek. Her voice trembled as she spoke, barely audible over the crinkling of the soaked diaper against her skin. “Y-yes,” she stammered her helplessness a bitter pill to swallow. “I wet myself. Please, I need a change.” Lucille’s lips curled into a sly smirk. “Oh, sweetie,” she crooned, her voice dripping with false sympathy, “did you forget already? It’s playtime now. Big girls need to learn patience, you know?” She gestured towards the scattered toys in the playpen, her voice taking on a sharper edge. “Now, be a good girl and play with your toys. If you’re lucky, maybe I’ll consider changing you after.” Lucille collected her things from the room and went away again. Olivia’s heart sank. She knew there was no point in arguing. The discomfort of the wet diaper was unbearable, but the fear of further humiliation was even worse. With a defeated sigh, she reached for a brightly colored rattle, her mind racing as she tried to devise a plan. She couldn’t stay like this, trapped in this infantile nightmare. There had to be a way out. Olivia halfheartedly shook the rattle, the hollow sound a mocking echo of her own emptiness. Her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions – anger, humiliation, and a deep-seated fear that this was her new reality. But beneath those emotions, a spark of defiance remained, a refusal to completely surrender to the demon’s twisted game. As she played, her eyes darted around the room, searching for any potential escape route. The windows were too high, the door locked from the outside. Her gaze fell upon the diaper bag Lucille had brought in earlier. Perhaps there was something in there, a tool, a weapon, anything that could help her break free. Mustering all her courage, Olivia crawled towards the bag, her movements cautious and deliberate. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the soft fabric. A surge of hope coursed through her veins. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance she could escape this nightmare. With trembling fingers, Olivia unzipped the diaper bag, her heart pounding in her chest. The contents were a grotesque parody of a baby’s essentials: talcum powder, a tube of diaper rash cream, a handful of pacifiers, and a stack of brightly colored diapers. Olivia’s stomach churned as she realized there was nothing useful in the bag, nothing that could aid her escape. A sob escaped her lips as she slumped back against the playpen wall, a wave of despair washing over her. She was trapped, a prisoner in her own home, reduced to a helpless infant. The demon had won, and her life as she knew it was over. As if sensing her defeat, Lucille’s voice echoed through the room, a chilling reminder of her presence. “Having fun, Olivia?” she taunted, her voice dripping with amusement. “Don’t worry, darling. The beginning is starting now. You’ll soon learn to love your new life, with all its messy little pleasures.” Olivia’s body tensed, her stomach clenching in response to Lucille’s taunting words. The formula, now churning in her belly, triggered a familiar urge, a pressure building within her. She tried to fight it, to hold back, but the demon’s influence was too strong. A solid mass of warmth flooded her diaper, the sensation a mix of relief and utter shame. She had lost control again, her body betraying her in the most humiliating way possible. The smell of her poop filled the playpen, a pungent reminder of her degradation. Tears welled up in Olivia’s eyes as she whimpered softly. She was no longer just wet; she was filthy, a helpless infant adult wallowing in her own excrement. This was the lowest point of her life, a nadir of shame and despair. She had become the very thing the demon wanted her to be: a helpless, infantile creature, utterly dependent on its cruel whims. Lucille’s laughter echoed through the room, a cruel melody that twisted Olivia’s insides. “Oh, Olivia,” she cooed, her voice dripping with a sickeningly sweet tone, “what a mess you’ve made. But don’t worry, darling. We’ll take care of it.” With a snap of her fingers, Lucille conjured a new toy, a large, plush teddy bear with soft brown fur and innocent button eyes. The bear was oddly oversized for the playpen, its limbs sprawling across the limited space. “Look, Olivia,” Lucille purred, “a new friend to keep you company. I’m sure you’ll have lots of fun together.” Lucille says as she snaps her fingers again, this time filling Olivia up with libido. As she spoke, an unsettling warmth began to spread through Olivia’s body. The sensation was different from the shame and disgust she had felt earlier. It was a warmth that tingled and pulsed, a growing heat that seemed to originate from her princess parts. Her eyes darted to the teddy bear, a new and unfamiliar desire taking root in her mind. Lucille, sensing the shift in Olivia’s demeanor, let out a low chuckle. “Yes, darling,” she whispered, her voice a seductive caress. “Let your imagination run wild. Play with your new friend, and don’t be afraid to explore your desires. After all, a little mess is nothing to be ashamed of, is it?” Lucille bumps up Olivia’s libido with a click of her fingers. The shame that had consumed Olivia moments before began to morph into something else, a tingling curiosity that pulsed through her princess parts and body. Her eyes remained locked on the teddy bear, its soft fur and inviting curves a stark contrast to the cold, sterile plastic of the playpen. Lucille’s words echoed in her mind, a tempting invitation to explore a forbidden realm. “Don’t be afraid to explore your desires,” she had said. And in that moment, a wave of rebellion surged through Olivia. If this was the life she was forced to live, she would find a way to make it her own, to carve out a sliver of pleasure from the humiliation. With a newfound determination, Olivia crawled towards the teddy bear, her eyes never leaving its plush form. She reached out, her fingers sinking into the soft fur, a shiver running down her spine. The sensation was oddly comforting, a stark contrast to the cold, clinical touch of Lucille’s hands. Emboldened by the rising warmth within her, Olivia pulled herself onto the teddy bear, straddling its plush body. The diaper, already heavy with her excrement, shifted against her sensitive parts, the friction igniting a spark of pleasure that sent a jolt through her body. She gasped, her fingers tightening in the bear’s fur as she rocked against it, the forbidden sensation growing with each movement. Olivia’s body writhed in pleasure as she grinded against the giant teddy bear, the contents of her messy diaper rubbing against her pussy with each movement. The wetness and warmth of the padding only heightened her arousal, her clit throbbing with need. Lucille watched with a smirk on her face, enjoying the humiliation of the adult woman humping a stuffed animal in a wet and messy diaper and recorded her. “Well, well, well,” she taunted, “looks like someone’s enjoying their messy diaper a little too much.” Olivia’s cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she couldn’t deny the pleasure coursing through her body. She pushed harder against the teddy, her orgasm building with each rub of the poopy wet diaper against her princess parts. Lucille leaned in, a playful smirk twisting her lips, “Someone’s already making quite the mess, aren’t they? And it’s about to get a different type of messy, isn’t it, wittle Olivia?” Her eyes sparkled with malicious delight, a hint of purring entering her tone. Olivia couldn’t hold back any longer, her climax hitting her like a wave. She cried out, her pussy pulsing with pleasure as she came into the wet and messy diaper. She continued grinding and grinding, its foul contents spreading further, while she had orgasm after orgasm until she lay against the teddy bear exhausted, but in ecstasy with a very messy diapered bottom. Lucille’s voicedripped with saccharine sweetness, a stark contrast to the cruel glint in her eyes. “Oh, Olivia, what a good girl you are!” she cooed, clapping her hands together in mock delight. “Look at the lovely present you left in your diaper. Such a big, smelly surprise and a sticky one too!” She leaned closer, her breath ghosting over Olivia’s ear. “Aren’t you proud of yourself?” she whispered, her voice laced with a perverse kind of satisfaction. “Such a dirty little baby, making a sticky mess like that. Mommy’s so pleased.” Olivia, already burdened with humiliation, felt a fresh wave of shame wash over her at Lucille’s twisted praise. Tears welled up in her eyes anew, not from the discomfort of the soiled diaper, but from the crushing weight of degradation. She had never felt so small, so utterly debased. “Please,” Olivia choked out, her voice barely a whisper, “just… just clean me up.” The words tasted like poison on her tongue, each syllable a surrender to the demon’s cruel game. Lucille’s smile widened, revealing rows of sharp teeth. “As you wish, my sticky little mess maker,” she purred, her voice laced with malicious glee. With deliberate slowness, she began to clean Olivia, her every touch a reminder of the scientist’s helplessness. Olivia squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the reality of her situation. But even with her eyes closed, she could still feel Lucille’s cold, mocking gaze upon her. The cleaning process was agonizingly slow, Lucille taking every opportunity to prolong Olivia’s torment. She cooed and praised Olivia’s “good behaviour,” her voice a grating symphony of condescension. Olivia, exhausted from humping her teddy, fell asleep during her diaper change. Chapter 10: Life Could Be A Dream (Finale) When Olivia awoke, she found herself not in her bed, but in a crib, its bars cold and unyielding against her touch. Panic flared as she realized she was locked in, the familiar surroundings of her bedroom warped and distorted by the dim light filtering through the slats. A desperate urge to pee gnawed at her, the sensation growing stronger with each passing moment. Olivia squirmed, her diaper rustling with her movements, but there was no escape. Tears welled up in her eyes as she succumbed to the inevitable, the warmth spreading through her diaper a humiliating reminder of her helplessness. The door creaked open, and Lucille entered, her silhouette framed by the dim light. Her eyes gleamed as she took in the sight of Olivia, trapped and soiled in the crib. “Ah, my little baby,” she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Did you have an accident? Such a shame. But don’t worry, Mommy’s here to take care of you.” Olivia clenched her fists, her cheeks burning with shame and anger. “Let me out of here!” she demanded, her voice a mixture of defiance and desperation. Lucille chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down Olivia’s spine. “Not yet, my dear,” she purred. “First, we need to have a little chat.” She walked over to the crib, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. Olivia shrank back, her body pressed against the cold bars. Lucille leaned over the crib, her face mere inches from Olivia’s. “You see, Olivia,” she said, her voice soft and insidious, “this is your true nature. Helpless, dependent, in need of a mommy to change your dirty diaper.” Olivia’s eyes flashed with anger. “I’m not a baby!” she hissed. “I’m a grown woman, a scientist!” Lucille smiled, a wicked glint in her eyes. “That’s what you think, my dear. But deep down, you crave this. You crave the comfort of a diaper, the security of being taken care of, the thrill of submission.” Olivia wanted to scream, to deny everything Lucille was saying, but the words died in her throat. A part of her, a small, insidious part, whispered in agreement. Lucille reached into the crib, her fingers gently tracing the outline of Olivia’s diaper. “Don’t fight it, Olivia,” she purred. “Embrace it. Embrace your true self. You’ll see, it’s much more fun to be bad.” A strange sensation washed over Olivia, a mixture of shame, excitement, and surrender. She closed her eyes, her body trembling as Lucille unlatched the crib and lifted her out. “That’s it, my little baby,” Lucille crooned, her voice a hypnotic lullaby. “Let Mommy take care of you.” She carried Olivia to the desk, where the strange contraption hummed with an unsettling energy. Lucille placed a helmet on Olivia’s head, its cold metal pressing against her temples. “Now, my dear,” she whispered, her voice filled with anticipation. “Let’s explore your deepest desires together.” The world around Olivia dissolved into a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds, her consciousness slipping away into the realm of dreams. The chill of the helmet pressed against Olivia’s skin, plunging her into the swirling chaos of the dream realm. She found herself in a dimly lit classroom, the air thick with the scent of chalk and old books. Rows of wooden desks faced a blackboard covered in complex equations and diagrams. Olivia was seated at one of the desks, her legs dangling above the floor. She was wearing a school uniform, a pleated skirt and a white blouse, but the most noticeable feature was the thick diaper peeking out from under the hem of her skirt. A figure stood at the front of the classroom, a stern-looking woman with wire-rimmed glasses and a tight bun. It was Professor Lucille, her voice booming across the room as she lectured on the intricacies of quantum mechanics. “Now, Miss Olivia,” she said, her gaze fixing on Olivia with a disapproving frown. “Can you explain to the class the principles of quantum entanglement?” Olivia squirmed in her seat, her face flushed with embarrassment. She had no idea what quantum entanglement was, and the diaper bulging between her legs made it difficult to concentrate. “I… I don’t know, Professor,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible. Professor Lucille sighed, a sound of exasperation mixed with a hint of amusement. “Of course you don’t, you silly girl,” she said, her voice softening. “You’ve been too busy playing with your dollies and wetting your diaper.” A wave of shame washed over Olivia. She knew Professor Lucille was right; she had been neglecting her studies, her mind preoccupied with childish fantasies and the comfort of a full diaper. “But don’t worry, Olivia,” Professor Lucille continued, her voice taking on a seductive purr. “I’m here to help you. I’m here to teach you all about the wonders of science… and the joys of diaper submission.” She walked towards Olivia, her heels clicking on the wooden floor. Olivia shrank back in her seat, her heart pounding in her chest. Professor Lucille stopped beside Olivia’s desk, her hand reaching out to gently stroke Olivia’s hair. “You’re such a bright girl, Olivia,” she whispered. “But you need discipline. You need guidance. You need… a firm hand.” Olivia felt a shiver run down her spine, a mixture of fear and excitement. She knew what was coming, and a part of her, a dark, forbidden part, craved it. Professor Lucille stepped back, her gaze intense and unwavering. “Stand up, Olivia,” she commanded. Trembling, Olivia pushed herself up from her chair, her legs shaking beneath her. She was fully aware of the obscene sight she must have presented, her diaper sagging heavily between her legs, a wet patch spreading across the front. “Bend over your desk,” Professor Lucille instructed. Olivia did as she was told, her hands gripping the edge of the wooden desk as she leaned forward, her bottom thrust out. She could feel the cold air on her diaper, the material still damp from her earlier accidents. Professor Lucille moved behind her, her steps measured and deliberate. Olivia closed her eyes, bracing herself for the inevitable. The first slap came down hard, the impact echoing through the classroom. Olivia gasped, her body jolting forward. The sharp pain radiated through her, a stark contrast to the comforting warmth of her diaper. Another slap followed, and another. Each one stung, the pain building with every strike. Olivia couldn’t help but moan, her body writhing beneath the assault. “Is this what you need, Olivia?” Professor Lucille asked, her voice thick with desire. “Discipline? Control?” “Yessss,” Olivia whimpered, the word barely audible. She was beyond shame now, beyond embarrassment. She was lost in the sensations, her body betraying her with each whimper and moan. Professor Lucille continued the spanking, each slap harder and more intense than the last. Olivia could feel her diaper growing even wetter, the heat from her punishment mixing with the warmth of her excretions and the heat from how horny she was getting. Eventually, Professor Lucille stopped, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Olivia’s bottom and princess parts were a throbbing mess, her body aching with the abuse. “Very good, Olivia,” Professor Lucille said, her voice soft and comforting. “You have learned your lesson.” Olivia stayed bent over the desk, too exhausted to move. She could feel the trickle of wetness trailing down her legs, her diaper now thoroughly soaked and leaking. In that moment, she belonged to Professor Lucille. She was her student, her submissive, her plaything. She had surrendered herself completely, her body and her mind. And she had never felt so alive. Suddenly, the classroom vanished, the scent of chalk and the echoing lecture fading into oblivion. Olivia gasped, her eyes flying open as the helmet was removed from her head. The dream’s lingering warmth clung to her skin, a stark contrast to the cool air of her bedroom. Lucille loomed over her, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. “Well, my dear,” she purred, “it seems you’ve discovered a hidden talent for academic submission.” Olivia recoiled, a wave of revulsion washing over her. The memory of her dream-self, the meek student eager for punishment, filled her with shame and disgust. “No,” she gasped, her voice barely a whisper. “That’s not me. That’s not who I am.” Lucille chuckled, her voice dripping with condescension. “Don’t be so naive, Olivia,” she chided. “That is who you are, deep down. You crave authority, discipline, the thrill of surrendering to a dominant figure.” Olivia shook her head vehemently, her eyes blazing with defiance. “You’re wrong,” she insisted. “This is just a dream, a twisted fantasy you’ve implanted in my mind.” Lucille raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “Oh, is it?” she challenged. “Then why is your heart racing? Why are your cheeks flushed? Why can’t you deny the undeniable pleasure you felt in that classroom?” Olivia’s resolve wavered. The lingering warmth of the dream, the memory of Professor Lucille’s firm hand, the thrill of submission… it was all too real, too intoxicating. “This isn’t me,” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper. But even as she said the words, a seed of doubt had been planted in her mind. Lucille leaned closer, her breath warm against Olivia’s ear. “Don’t fight it, Olivia,” she whispered. “Embrace it. Embrace your true self. You’ll see, it’s much more fun to be bad.” The helmet descended once more, its cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth of Lucille’s touch. Olivia braced herself, unsure of what awaited her in the depths of her subconscious this time. The world dissolved into a dizzying vortex of colors and shapes, before solidifying into a starkly different scene. She found herself in a grand ballroom, chandeliers glittering overhead, the air filled with the strains of a waltz. But Olivia was not a guest at this elegant affair. She was dressed as a maid, her uniform crisp and starched, a frilly apron tied around her waist. A diaper peeked out from beneath her skirt, a stark reminder of her subservient role. Across the room, a figure stood out from the swirling crowd of dancers. It was Lady Lucille, resplendent in a flowing gown, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she watched Olivia navigate the crowded room, a tray of champagne flutes balanced precariously in her hands. Olivia’s cheeks burned with embarrassment as she stumbled, her diaper rustling with her every movement. The guests snickered and whispered as she made her way towards Lady Lucille, her heart pounding in her chest. “Ah, there you are, my little maid,” Lady Lucille purred, her voice a seductive melody. “I see you’re having a bit of trouble with your duties.” Olivia lowered her head, her eyes fixed on the floor. “I apologize, my lady,” she stammered. “I’ll be more careful next time.” Lady Lucille chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent shivers down Olivia’s spine. “No need to apologize, my dear,” she said, her voice softening. “Accidents happen, especially to clumsy little maids who can’t seem to keep their diapers dry.” Olivia’s face flushed crimson. She could feel the warmth spreading through her diaper, a humiliating reminder of her inadequacy. Lady Lucille reached out, her fingers gently lifting Olivia’s chin. “But don’t worry, my dear,” she whispered, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “I have a special task for you, a task that will require all of your… unique talents.” Lady Lucille led Olivia through the throng of dancers, her grip firm on Olivia’s arm. They reached a secluded alcove, hidden from the prying eyes of the guests. The air here was thick with the scent of perfume and something else, something primal and intoxicating. “You see, Olivia,” Lady Lucille began, her voice barely above a whisper, “I have a… particular interest in those who find pleasure in serving others. Those who revel in their own submission, who find joy in fulfilling their master’s every whim.” Olivia’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew where this was going, and a part of her, a part she had desperately tried to suppress, thrilled at the prospect. Lady Lucille’s hand trailed down Olivia’s arm, her fingers lingering on the curve of her hip. “I’ve heard whispers,” she continued, her voice a seductive purr, “of a brilliant scientist who has a secret, a hidden desire for something… more.” Olivia’s cheeks burned with shame, but she couldn’t deny the truth in Lady Lucille’s words. The dreams, the fantasies, the forbidden desires… they were all bubbling to the surface, threatening to consume her. “Don’t be afraid, Olivia,” Lady Lucille whispered, her breath warm against Olivia’s ear. “Embrace your desires. Embrace your submission. Embrace your diaper.” Her hand slipped under Olivia’s skirt, her fingers brushing against the damp warmth of the diaper. Olivia gasped, her body tensing, but a wave of pleasure washed over her, erasing all thoughts of resistance. Lady Lucille smiled, a wicked glint in her eyes. “There you are, my little pet,” she purred. “Let me show you how truly wonderful it can be to serve.” Lady Lucille’s fingers trailed along the wet fabric of the diaper, making Olivia shiver with desire. She could feel her heart racing, her breathing shallow and ragged as the older woman continued to touch her. “You like that, don’t you?” Lady Lucille murmured in her ear, her breath hot and heavy. “Feeling my fingers on your wet diaper?” Olivia could only nod, too overwhelmed with pleasure to speak. She had never felt anything like this before – the combination of shame, excitement, and arousal was intoxicating. Lady Lucille’s other hand reached up to caress Olivia’s breast, her thumb circling the nipple through the fabric of her dress. “Such a good girl,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry. “So eager to please, so willing to submit.” Olivia felt herself sinking deeper into the pleasure, her mind clouded with thoughts of servitude and desire. She wanted nothing more than to please Lady Lucille, to do whatever she asked of her. “Take off your panties,” Lady Lucille commanded, her voice firm and authoritative. “Let me see your diaper.” Olivia’s hands trembled as she obeyed, sliding her panties down her legs and stepping out of them. She stood there, exposed and vulnerable, her diaper on display for Lady Lucille to see. “Such a good girl,” Lady Lucille murmured again, her hand reaching down to stroke the wet fabric of the diaper. “So obedient, so eager to please.” Olivia felt herself melting under the older woman’s touch, her body trembling with pleasure. She had never felt anything like this before, never experienced such intense arousal and submission. “Now, go back to the party,” Lady Lucille said, her voice still firm but with a hint of amusement. “But remember, you belong to me now. You are my pet, my submissive, my little girl in diapers.” Olivia nodded, her mind still reeling with pleasure and desire. She turned and walked back to the party, her diaper wet and heavy between her legs, her mind focused on Lady Lucille and the new world of pleasure she had opened up for her. The opulent ballroom dissolved into a hazy blur, replaced by the stark familiarity of Olivia’s bedroom. The helmet was gone, the echo of Lady Lucille’s seductive voice fading into a distant memory. Olivia blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. The sensation of the wet diaper between her legs remained, a tangible reminder of the dream’s intense reality. A wave of shame washed over her, followed by a pang of longing. She touched her cheeks, still flushed from the dream’s passionate encounter, and the denial rose within her. “No,” she whispered, shaking her head fiercely. “This isn’t me. It can’t be.” Yet, the memory of Lady Lucille’s touch, her whispered promises of pleasure and submission, lingered in Olivia’s mind like a tempting siren song. The logical part of her, the scientist, rebelled against these newfound desires. But another part, a darker, more primal aspect, yearned to succumb to the forbidden thrill. Lucille watched Olivia’s internal struggle with amusement. “Still clinging to your illusions, my dear?” she asked, her voice a silky thread weaving through the silence. “Denial is a powerful tool, but it won’t shield you from the truth forever.” Olivia clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. “This is wrong,” she choked out, her voice thick with emotion. “You’re manipulating me, twisting my mind.” Lucille tilted her head, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Am I, Olivia?” she countered. “Or am I simply revealing what’s been hidden within you all along?” Olivia’s resolve wavered, her mind caught in a tug-of-war between reason and desire. She longed to believe that this was all a twisted game, a cruel trick played by a manipulative demon. But deep down, a gnawing doubt gnawed at her. “You’re lying,” she insisted, her voice a desperate plea for reassurance. “This isn’t who I am.” Lucille’s smile widened, her eyes glittering with triumph. “We’ll see about that, my dear,” she purred. “The night is young, and we have so much more to explore.” The helmet’s familiar weight settled upon Olivia’s head, and the world around her dissolved once more. This time, she found herself in a brightly lit playroom, filled with toys and colorful decorations. But the atmosphere was far from cheerful. Olivia was seated in a high chair, a bib tied around her neck, a half-eaten bowl of mush in front of her. She wore a baby blue onesie, and a thick diaper bulged between her legs. A stern-faced woman in a nanny uniform stood before her, a spoonful of mush hovering in the air. “Eat up, Olivia,” she commanded, her voice firm but laced with a hint of amusement. “Big girls need to finish their dinner if they want to grow up strong and healthy.” Olivia scowled, pushing the spoon away with a petulant whine. “I don’t wanna,” she mumbled, her voice thick with defiance. Nanny Lucille’s smile tightened. “Oh, but you will,” she insisted, her voice taking on a sharper edge. “You’re a naughty little girl who needs to learn some manners. And I know just the way to teach you.” She set the spoon aside and reached for a wooden paddle hanging on the wall. Olivia’s eyes widened in alarm as Nanny Lucille approached, the paddle held menacingly in her hand. “This will teach you a lesson, young lady,” Nanny Lucille declared, her voice dripping with mock disapproval. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before disobeying your nanny.” The paddle connected with Olivia’s bottom, a sharp sting that sent a shockwave through her body. Tears welled up in her eyes, but a strange heat bloomed in her core, a mixture of pain, humiliation, and a forbidden thrill. Nanny Lucille continued her discipline, each strike of the paddle igniting a conflicting symphony of sensations within Olivia. She whimpered and cried, yet a part of her reveled in the punishment, her body responding with a growing warmth and a tingling arousal. “There, there,” Nanny Lucille cooed, her voice a soothing balm as she set the paddle aside. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Now, are you going to be a good girl and finish your dinner?” Olivia nodded meekly, her cheeks flushed with shame and a strange excitement. She opened her mouth as Nanny Lucille scooped up another spoonful of mush, a flicker of defiance still burning in her eyes, yet her body already yielding to the intoxicating power of submission. The playroom scene dissolved, leaving Olivia blinking in the dim light of her bedroom once more. The helmet was gone, the echo of Nanny Lucille’s stern voice and the sting of the paddle fading into a disturbing memory. She was still in her onesie, the diaper heavy and warm between her legs. The lingering sensation of the spanking, a mix of humiliation and a strange warmth, sent a shiver down her spine. “Well?” Lucille’s voice cut through the silence, her eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Did you enjoy your little lesson, my dear?” Olivia recoiled, her cheeks burning with shame and confusion. “No,” she stammered, her voice barely a whisper. “This isn’t me. It can’t be.” Lucille chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a shiver down Olivia’s spine. “Oh, but it is, my dear,” she purred. “These are your dreams, Olivia. Your desires. Your fantasies.” Olivia shook her head vehemently, her eyes wide with disbelief. “No,” she insisted. “This is just some twisted trick you’re playing on me. I’m not like this.” Lucille leaned closer, her eyes boring into Olivia’s. “Are you so sure?” she challenged. “Why else would you dream of such things? Why else would your body respond with such… enthusiasm?” Olivia’s resolve wavered. She couldn’t deny the strange pleasure she had experienced in the dream, the conflicting emotions that had stirred within her. Could Lucille be right? Were these truly her hidden desires, her deepest fantasies? “Don’t fight it, Olivia,” Lucille whispered, her voice a seductive caress. “Embrace it. Embrace your true self. Embrace your little girl side.” Olivia opened her mouth to protest, but the words caught in her throat. A part of her, a small, vulnerable part, yearned to believe Lucille. Yearned to surrender to the comfort and security of being a helpless little girl in a diaper. But another part of her, the scientist, the rational thinker, screamed in defiance. This couldn’t be her. This couldn’t be what she wanted. Lucille watched Olivia’s internal struggle with amusement. “The choice is yours, my dear,” she purred. “You can continue to deny your true desires, or you can embrace them. The decision is yours.” The helmet’s familiar chill once again enveloped Olivia’s head, and her surroundings dissolved into a swirling vortex. This time, she found herself standing on a sun-drenched beach, the warm sand between her toes, the salty breeze tousling her hair. But something was different. Olivia was clad in a bright pink bikini, her body tanned and toned. Yet, beneath the skimpy fabric, a thick diaper bulged prominently, its outline unmistakable. A giggle escaped her lips as she ran towards the sparkling waves, the diaper crinkling with every step. A group of friends waved to her from the shore, their laughter echoing across the beach. Olivia plunged into the water, relishing the cool embrace of the ocean. But as she swam, a strange sensation spread through her diaper – a warmth, a wetness, a sense of fullness. Emerging from the waves, Olivia felt a pang of excitement mixed with a hint of embarrassment. She knew her diaper was soaked, but instead of shame, a thrill coursed through her veins. She waddled back to her friends, the diaper sagging heavily between her legs. To her surprise, her friends didn’t mock or tease her. Instead, they showered her with compliments, their eyes filled with admiration. “You look so cute in that diaper, Olivia!” one of them exclaimed. “It’s like you’re a little baby again.” Olivia giggled, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. The feeling of the wet diaper against her skin, the attention from her friends, the undeniable thrill of being babied – it was all so intoxicating. She spent the rest of the day playing in the sand, building sandcastles and splashing in the waves, her diaper growing heavier and messier with each passing hour. But the discomfort was outweighed by the sheer joy of embracing her newfound freedom, of reveling in the childish abandon that the diaper represented. As the sun began to set, Olivia’s friends gathered around her, their faces glowing with warmth and acceptance. “We love you, Olivia,” they chorused, their voices filled with genuine affection. “And we love your diapers.” Olivia beamed, her heart swelling with happiness. This was it, she realized. This was what she truly wanted. The freedom to embrace her childish side, to revel in the comfort and security of a diaper, to be loved and accepted for who she was, messy diaper and all. As the beach scene began to fade, a realization dawned upon Olivia. This wasn’t just a dream; it was a reflection of her deepest desires, her hidden yearnings. The joy she had felt, the acceptance, the pure, unadulterated pleasure of embracing her childish side – it was all real, all hers. Lucille, sensing the shift in Olivia’s demeanor, paused mid-motion, the helmet hovering inches above her head. “What is it, my dear?” she asked, her voice a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. Olivia’s eyes snapped open, her gaze meeting Lucille’s with newfound clarity. The shame, the denial, the confusion – it all melted away, replaced by a sense of liberation. “I see it now,” Olivia whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I see what you’ve been trying to show me all along.” A slow smile spread across Lucille’s face, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “Do you, my dear?” she purred. “And what is it that you see?” Olivia took a deep breath, the words pouring out of her like a dam bursting. “I see that I’m not the person I thought I was. I’m not just a scientist, a rational thinker. I’m also a little girl, a playful, curious, sometimes messy little girl who loves her diapers.” Lucille nodded, her smile widening. “Yes, my dear,” she affirmed. “That’s exactly who you are.” Olivia continued, her voice growing stronger with each word. “I see that I don’t have to hide anymore. I don’t have to pretend to be someone I’m not. I can embrace my desires, my fantasies, my love for diapers.” Lucille lowered the helmet, her touch gentle as she removed it from Olivia’s head. “You are free, Olivia,” she whispered, her voice filled with warmth and encouragement. “Free to be yourself. Free to be the little girl you’ve always been.” Olivia smiled, a genuine, radiant smile that lit up her face. She looked down at her diaper, no longer a source of shame, but a symbol of her newfound freedom. “Thank you, Lucille,” she said, her voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you for showing me the truth.” Lucille returned the smile, her eyes filled with affection. “You’re welcome, my dear,” she said. “Now, go and play. Be the little girl you were always meant to be.” And with that, Olivia, clad in her onesie and diaper, skipped out of the room, her heart filled with joy and a newfound sense of self-acceptance. A wave of euphoria washed over Olivia as she skipped down the hallway, her diaper swishing with every step. But as she rounded a corner, a sense of unease crept over her. The familiar decor of her house seemed off, the colors too vibrant, the proportions distorted. A chilling realization struck her: this wasn’t real. She was still dreaming, still trapped in the illusion crafted by Lucille’s insidious device. The joy she had felt moments ago turned to dread as she understood the implications. “Lucille!” she cried out, her voice echoing through the empty hallway. “This is a dream! I know it is!” A giggle echoed behind her, and Lucille materialized from the shadows, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Very clever, my dear,” she purred. “But even in your dreams, you can’t escape the truth.” Olivia whirled around, her heart pounding in her chest. “Let me out of here!” she demanded, her voice a mixture of fear and defiance. Lucille raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk. “Oh, but you are out, my dear,” she countered. “You’re right where you belong.” With a flick of her wrist, Lucille removed the helmet from Olivia’s head. The dream world shattered, the vibrant colors fading into the familiar darkness of the bedroom. Olivia found herself back in the crib, her onesie damp and clinging to her skin. The realization of her predicament, the undeniable truth of her desires, hit her like a tidal wave. “No,” she whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes. “This can’t be real. This can’t be who I am.” Suddenly, the world around Olivia transformed once again, the familiar chill of the helmet pressing against her temples as she entered a new dream realm. This time, she found herself in a lavish bedroom, the air filled with the sweet scent of jasmine and musk. The room was dimly lit, casting a seductive glow over the scene unfolding before her. Lucille stood before her, a sultry smile playing on her lips as she gazed at Olivia with hunger in her eyes. Lucille was dressed in a sheer robe that barely concealed her curves, the fabric clinging to her skin in all the right places. Olivia’s heart raced at the sight, a mixture of desire and trepidation swirling inside her. “Welcome, my dear Olivia,” Lucille purred, her voice sending shivers down Olivia’s spine. “I’ve been waiting for you.” Olivia’s breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight before her. She was no longer the innocent student or in a classroom or a maid in a ball; she was now a willing participant in a seductive game of pleasure and submission. Lucille approached Olivia, her hand reaching out to caress Olivia’s cheek with a feather-light touch. Olivia’s skin tingled at the contact, her body responding to the intimate gesture. “You’re such a good girl, Olivia,” Lucille whispered, her words a tantalizing promise of what was to come. “Let me take care of you.” With a deft movement, Lucille lowered Olivia to the plush bed, her hands expertly undoing Olivia’s clothing until she was left in nothing but her soaked diaper. Olivia’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment and arousal, a heady mix of emotions swirling inside her. Lucille’s touch was electric as she traced a path down Olivia’s body, her fingers dancing over the wet fabric of the diaper. Olivia couldn’t help but moan at the sensation, her body arching instinctively towards Lucille’s touch. “Such a naughty girl,” Lucille murmured, her voice a husky whisper. “Let’s see just how wet you can get for me.” With skillful fingers, Lucille began to rub Olivia’s pussy through the diaper, eliciting gasps of pleasure from Olivia’s lips. The fabric became slick with Olivia’s arousal, the friction sending waves of pleasure through her body. But Lucille wasn’t done yet. She produced a vibrator, the buzzing sound filling the room with anticipation. Placing it against the soaked diaper, she teased Olivia with the vibrating sensation, driving her wild with need. Olivia’s hips moved involuntarily, aching for more stimulation, more release. Lucille watched with a wicked gleam in her eyes, enjoying the sight of Olivia squirming under her touch. “Such a good girl,” Lucille cooed, increasing the intensity of the vibrator against the soaked fabric. Olivia’s moans grew louder, her body on the edge of ecstasy. And then, with a devious smile, Lucille presented a giant teddy bear, its plush form inviting and enticing. She guided Olivia’s hips towards the bear, urging her to hump the soft toy with abandon. Olivia couldn’t resist the overwhelming urge, the combination of the vibrator, the soaked diaper, and the commanding presence of Lucille pushing her towards a mind-blowing climax. She rode the teddy bear with abandon, her body shaking with pleasure as she reached the peak of ecstasy. As Olivia’s body trembled with release, the sensations washing over her like a tidal wave, she felt a sense of liberation unlike anything she had experienced before. In that moment, she let go of all inhibitions, all reservations, and surrendered to the intoxicating pleasure of the dream. The room faded away as the helmet was lifted from Olivia’s head, leaving her breathless and exhilarated. The memory of the dream lingered, a potent mix of desire and arousal that left Olivia questioning everything she thought she knew about herself. Lucille leaned over the crib, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “But it is real, my dear,” she purred, echoing Olivia’s words from moments before she went into her dream. “And it is exactly who you are.” She reached into the crib, her fingers gently tracing the outline of Olivia’s soaked diaper. “You see, Olivia,” she continued, her voice a soothing melody, “your tears, your denial, it was all part of the process. You were fighting against the truth, clinging to an outdated image of yourself.” Lucille’s touch sent a shiver down Olivia’s spine, a strange mixture of shame and pleasure. “But now,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, “you’ve seen the light. You’ve experienced the joy, the freedom, the pure bliss of embracing your inner little girl.” Olivia’s gaze fell to her diaper, the physical manifestation of her surrender. A tear rolled down her cheek, but this time, it wasn’t a tear of despair. It was a tear of acceptance, of release. She had fought against the truth for so long, but now, finally, she understood. This was who she was, this was what she wanted. And as the tears streamed down her face, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She was a little girl, a messy, playful, diaper-loving little girl. And she was finally home with Mummy Lucille. The End. You can read more of my stories on my deviantart page or my site.

All characters in the following story are 18+ Once there was a small village that sat on the edge of a forest. In the summer, when summers lasted many years at a time, the forest bloomed bright with green leaves and deep, warm earth. It was alive with the singing of birds, the sets of badgers, and all sorts of other creatures who called it home. At the very centre of the forest was a massive tree, far taller than all the others, which watched over its kin as their guardian. Through the years, the village and the forest lived in harmony with one another. Yet summer cannot not last forever. One morning, when autumn had fallen over the forest and the trees were bare of leaves, a brother and sister came from a nearby town to visit their aunt, who lived in the forest. They hadn’t seen her in many years, and wanted to bring her gifts to greet her with. First they went to the bakers, and each ordered a loaf of bread to take. “Well, if you’re going through the forest, you best be careful!” the baker’s son said as he kneaded dough. “They say there’s a curse on the forest.” “A curse?” the brother said, shaking a little. “Oh yes. A tree stands there, they say it takes travellers who stray from the path, into it’s domain.” The sister chuckled. “A tree! Who’s afraid of a tree?” She looked over to her brother, but found him shivering with fear. “Stop scaring them!” the baker said, coming out with two fresh loaves of bread. “You go and say hello to your auntie now.” With their fresh bread, the brother and sister made their way to the market. “You don’t really believe in all that nonsense, do you?” the sister said. “N-no! Of course not!” said the brother, his legs shivering. “But could we maybe stop to use the bathroom before we head to auntie’s house?” “Ugh, fine.” Soon they arrived at the market, and got talking to farmer Potts as he filled a jar with fresh honey. “Oh yes, it’s true.” he said, “They built a road through the forest many years ago, and travellers used to throw litter, relieve themselves, do all sorts of things on the road. They say you have to be careful to go potty before you travel there, because if the trees catch you doing it there, you’ll never come back out!” The brother was shaking now, terrified of what may lay ahead. The sister cackled. “We’ll be careful.” she said, and took the honey with a smile. Once they had gathered everything they needed it was late afternoon. The sun was already low in the sky, never having fully risen. “Can we please find a potty now?” the brother said as they came up the road. The sister frowned, and looked up into the quickly darkening sky. “If we don’t hurry, we’ll be walking through the forest in the dark. You can hold it, right?” “I-I’m not sure I can!” “Well then just go in the forest.” the sister said. “But the tree--” “Oh don’t be such a child! There’s no tree that can punish you for peeing!” Soon they were outside the forest itself. What few leaves the trees had were brown. The path seemed to disappear into darkness, the trees like a skeletal ribcage that arched over top. “You’re not scared, are you?” Asked the sister, though even she had to admit, she was a little unnerved. “N-no!” insisted the brother. He stood a little straighter, the jar of honey tight in his hands. If there was another way, both would surely have taken it. But this was the only road to Auntie’s house, and she was expecting them. So, they both took deep breaths, and wondered into the forest. The trees seemed to have eyes. The brother glanced from branch to branch, hoping desperately that the path would reach Auntie’s house soon and they could lay down in nice warm beds. But the path went on and on, and soon the trees grew twisty and windy. Crows laughed from far above, and the darkness became greater, until they could barely see the mushroom-strewn path ahead. “How far away are we?” the brother asked soon after. He was fidgeting now, growing desperate to relieve himself with nowhere in sight. “I … I don’t know.” the sister asked, looking around nervously. There was no-one else here, and it all looked the same. “None of this is familiar.” She looked over to her brother, waddling uncomfortably lest he pee his pants. “Just go in the forest! I won’t look.” “I … I can’t. The trees will be angry!” The sister scoffed. “Don’t be such an idiot!” she said. But soon she too felt nature’s calling. The feeling seemed to sneak up on her, she hadn’t been expecting it, and the longer the sensation of a full bladder lingered, the harder it became to concentrate. When at last they came to a large clearing, they hoped to see Auntie’s house. The trees weren’t so thick here, and the moon crept through some of the branches, casting broad, bright beams onto the forest floor. “It has to be here!” the sister quickly did a lap around the clearing, but all that was here was a large tree, far bigger than all the others. Nothing else. Not a bee, nor a butterfly. No life except the ancient tree. “Stop walking like that, you’re making me want to go too!” The sister scowled at the brother, who had his hands pressed between his legs, his knees crossed. “Sorry! I—I really need to pee!” They were clearly lost. They had been walking for an hour or more, and still the cottage was nowhere in sight. The sister turned her back on her brother, and the clearing fell into a deep silence as she tried to concentrate on what to do next. The trees whispered far above them, and the branches groaned. Beneath the sister’s feet, the gentle squelch of leaves and mud, and the occasional mushroom, was all the noise in the entire forest. “I-I can’t hold it much more!” the brother eventually whispered, and the sister turned to berate him, but before she could there was a shrill, shrieking call. The brother stiffened, standing straight and alert. The sister jumped too, almost dropping her loaves of bread. They glanced at one another. The brother squeaked as a terrible warmth flooded him. Slowly, a shadow, blacker even than the darkness of the evening, appeared ahead of them. An elongated body. Terrible, bony horns. A snout that huffed and sniffed in the air. But the sister squinted. She took a tentative step forward. No, that was no phantom or ghost. The figure emerged into the clearing, and the moonlight showed it’s true form—a deer, it’s antlers tall and proud, it’s nose twitching. From behind her, the sister heard a quiet sigh. The deer startled, stood frozen for a moment, and ran. When the sister turned, her brother stood there suddenly relaxed. “See, there are no ghosts!” she said, “Finally over your fear of the forest?” “No,” the brother said, “I just don’t have to go pee any more.” The sister glanced down. A dark patch was slowly spreading through his pants, steaming where his accident met the cold air. As shocked as the sister was, her brother’s accident only reminded her of her own desperation. She rushed past him towards the big tree. A ring of mushrooms encircled it, disappearing around the other side. “What are you doing?” the brother asked nervously as he saw her moving around the side of the great tree. “Don’t leave me!” “I’m not going away! I just need to pee as well. Now turn around and let me go.” The brother awkwardly did just that. He was still going as he turned, emptying the last of his bladder down his pants and onto the leaves below. As embarrassing as it was, it felt good to finally just let go. The warmth was nice too. Auntie will surely understand, he thought, not paying attention to his sister. The sister had moved to a discreet spot beside the massive tree. She had beden growing desperate too. If they continued down the path as they had been, who knows when she was going to get another chance to go? Better here, before she joined her brother and wet her panties. She unzipped her skirt and dropped her leggings. She squatted awkwardly by the ring of mushrooms, obscured from the clearing by a massive tree-root. She ignored the small wet-patch on her panties where she had almost lost control. She wasn’t some silly man, unable to hold herself until she reached civilisation. She was a grown woman dammit, and she would certainly not be showing up to her Aunt’s house having wet herself like a child. Finally able to let go, she sighed. Relief washed through her, fear of the forest vanishing along with her full bladder. She closed her eyes, listening to the patter against the ancient tree. In fact, she was so consumed with the relief she felt, so absorbed by her potty-break, that she failed to notice the ground bubbling beneath her feet. She did not notice when the roots of the tree moved through the earth, carrying with them the same mushrooms she was now relieving herself on. She did not notice the branch reach out around the brother, and did not notice when the brother whispered a dissonant, “Yes.” The brother felt so good, so empty, so … dumb. And what was this all around him? This sweet scented cloud that twinkled in the moonlight? “Why, you’re a very wet little boy, aren’t you?” A voice from nowhere said. “Let’s get these dirty things off and put some more appropriate clothing on, mmmm?” “Yes mama.” the brother found himself saying as his legs went cold. Then, as if he had been wrapped in a warm blanket, a pleasant warmth suddenly enveloped his whole body. His legs felt weak, his waist felt heavy. So heavy that he planted himself onto his freshly padded bottom with a splat, giggling a little to himself at the funny feeling. Soon the sister had finished her business. She pulled up her leggings and her skirt, and stepped back over the massive root. She heard a sigh, and looked down to see the mushrooms twinkling a little. They looked very pretty in the moonlight. “Finished! Now, let’s get going, Auntie’s has to be around here somewh—” “There there.” the tree said in a thousand voices as it rubbed a branch gently against the brother’s back. “It wasn’t your fault you went in your pants. Little boys like you can’t help it. You did warn her after all…” “W-what is this?” the sister whispered. She backed up slowly. Ahead of her was her brother, right where she had left him. He sat there, on the forest floor, playing with the jar of honey, scooping it out of the jar by the handful and stuffing it into his mouth. “Stop this!” the sister shouted, and the brother turned, his eyes red with tears. He sat there, on the forest floor, in nothing but his underwear. No, not his underwear. Around his waist was a thick, poofy diaper. “Get up!” the sister shouted, “Stop it now!” she was shaking, unable to move. “Now, don’t be so mean to your brother.” “Who—” the sister stuttered, unable to get her question out. She hit the tree, unable to back up any further. Suddenly the entire massive trunk shifted behind her, the branches creaking and groaning, the knotted bark slowly peeling open. A thousand green eyes appeared all the way up until they disappeared into the canopy above. A mouth, jagged and uneven, opened up. “I am the guardian of this forest!” the tree said, “Who are you to intrude on my land?” “Tree--? We were just following the path, just wanted to get to our Auntie’s house.” The sister said, though it was becoming difficult to think, difficult to speak. “And yet you defile my woods with your human mess!” “We-we had to pee! It was an accident, I swear!” “No! It may have been an accident for your poor sweet brother here, but not you.” The brother turned, and the girl looked on in horror as his mouth tried to form words, but all that came out was “Bwaaa baa! Bwaa ba bee!” “Awww, he’s trying to say your name! How sweet.” “Stop this!” the sister cried, “Stop it now! We have to get to Auntie’s house! You’re not a baby, you’re my brother!” The tree just laughed. “He cannot understand you now, dear!” But the brother’s expression suddenly dropped. His honeyed hand froze mid-air. He squinted, as if he was concentrating, trying to break free. The sister saw him trying to stand, lifting himself off the ground slightly. “Come on! Please!” the sister plead. The brother’s face suddenly scrunched up. There was a moment of silence in the forest again. The sister’s heart was racing. Then there was a brrraaap. The sister crumpled her nose. A foul smell filled the air. As the brother leant forward, a small round bulge peeked out the back of his diaper. It grew and grew, and the brother grunted a little, until his face relaxed and he sighed. Then, without a care in the world, he sat back down and resumed his playtime. The tree just laughed. “Hahaha, how cute! We’ll have to call your auntie for a change, won’t we? But first…” The branch that was caring for the brother suddenly twitched. It began to move, slowly at first, but quicker and quicker. The sister realised with a start that it was coming for her. “No!” she cried, “Please!” “Ah, ah. No complaining now, you brought this on yourself.” The sister pushed herself off the tree, slowly backing up into the forest. She stepped on a mushroom, and a cloud of dust puffed around her. Coughing, she said, “No! Not me! I don’t need diapers like him! I’m a big girl!” “Now now, don’t lie to mama. Clearly you need some more potty training, otherwise you would have been able to control yourself until you reached your auntie’s house.” The sister looked down at her brother. He was gone, his mind turned to mush. All she could do now was get to her aunts. So, with the branch approaching her, she did the only thing she could. She ran. “Oh, feeling naughty? Well, if you insist on not doing as you’re told, we’ll have to find an extra special punishment for you, won’t we?” The tree’s voice was surprisingly calm, like a mother who had done this a thousand times before. As the sister raced through branches and brambles, she could hear the tree’s branch reach out for her, chasing her though the woods. Soon all light had gone, and she desperately stumbled around in the dark, the path long behind her. She had no idea where she was going, only that she had to run. Behind her, the branch kept coming. Closer. Closer. Then, suddenly, she saw a light ahead. It wasn’t the pale glow of moonlight, but the warm inviting ebb of a hearth. She could smell fresh broth, too. Auntie’s house was right there. Other sensations, smells sweet like honey, a sudden warmth through her body, relief at having found home, all of it washed over her. She burst through the treeline, onto the path she thought she had lost. Auntie’s house was right there, and the sister could see her in the window, cooking their dinner, waiting for her and her brother. The sister smiled, inhaling deeply. She wasn’t sure how long she stood at the edge of the forest for. She wanted to call out, to run to her aunt. Something stopped her. When she finally heard auntie’s door creak open, when the warmth smell of broth wafted over, the sister had already followed the mushroom-laden branch deep into the forest. *** Auntie opened her front door to the sounds of the trees. “Come, I have a present for you.” the tree said. “Oh? I hope this won’t take long. I’m expecting my niece and nephew.” “I’m sure they won’t mind. In fact, I’ll think they’ll like what I’ll show you.” Auntie followed the tree into the heart of the forest, to where it’s clearing was. It was here that the village said lonely travellers disappeared, but that was because they showed no respect. It was a lesson she had learned long ago. And it seemed her niece and nephew had yet to learn that lesson. They sat giggling on the forest floor. Her nephew was playing with a jar of honey, her niece dribbling all over herself, squelching mud happily between her fingers. Two fully grown adults, playing in the mud like a pair of babies. “I found them wondering all alone.” the tree said. “So you thought you’d ‘take care’ of them?” “That’s right! The sister is a very naughty little girl, urinating in my forest,” the tree said sternly. “But her brother is sweet enough.” There was a foul smell in the clearing as well. Auntie sniffed around a little, and soon came to the source of the odour. “Ooof! He certainly doesn’t smell sweet.” The sister wasn’t quite as messy as her brother, but stank all the same. Both of their diapers were full of as much mush as their brains were, now. Auntie sighed. “Come on.” she said to the tree. “Help me get these too home.” “Wonderful! What then?” the tree said. “We’ll get them acquainted with their new lives.” THE END The Potty Tree-by RawrJam.pdf

Hey, I'm just reposting a story I wrote over here to see if I could get some feedback on it. All criticism is high encouraged and appreciated. If there is anything you either really like or dislike please let me know, I'm really trying to improve in any way I can. Also slight warning, this story is a bit more "action heavy" than your usual ABDL story Chapter 1: A Pampered Vampire It was a dark and dusty night, with the city streets only barely illuminated by moonlight from the full moon above. As it was midnight, very few people were still outside, leaving the streets quiet and desolate. “Ugh, w-where am I?” A female voice groaned as she opened her eyes and realized she was lying on the cold city ground. As she took in the dark alley around her, she slowly got on to her feet. “I blacked out in some dirty back alley?” The girl thought to herself with a disgusted expression as she looked and where she had been sleeping. “What was I even doing out here?” The girl thought to herself as she tried to remember why she had even left her apartment in the first place. After trying to remember anything about the past day, but continuously coming up short, she gave up thinking about it. “Well… I’ll figure that out later. I should get home and get out of these dirty clothes.” The girl thought to herself as she looked down at what she was wearing. This girl was wearing a dark green t-shirt with a matching dark green skirt with a black trim on it. But these clothes were now rather dirty from sleeping in a back alley of the city. Standing at five foot three inches tall, with brown curly hair and matching brown eyes, this girl went by the name Star. Now tired and annoyed, she started to walk back to her apartment. Despite not knowing her exact surroundings, she had lived in this city most of her life and had a pretty good idea of what the fastest route to her apartment was. It involved going through some odd roads and dark alleys, but it wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to. Some girls would be scared walking around the city this late at night alone, but Star was not one of those girls. If anything, she was more comfortable walking around the city at night than in the daytime. That was with the exception of one thing that did scare her about the city at night. But Star tried to not think about that thing as she continued her walk home. As Star turned the corner in one back alley, she suddenly found herself in a large lot that was surrounded by buildings from most sides. This place immediately felt familiar to her, like she had been here before, even if she still couldn’t figure out exactly where she was. “This place, what was I last doing here?” Star thought, as she tried to remember what had happened to her last time she was at this location. But as Star tried to remember, her train of thought was suddenly cut off by a loud blood curdling scream. As she instantly became alerted, she took a step back and tried to figure out where the scream had come from. Star quickly realized that the scream hadn’t come from around her, but rather above her. Star then looked up at the buildings in front of her that loomed 50 feet high, just in time to see a figure on top of one of these buildings walk towards the edge of the roof. She could barely make out what this figure looked like in the darkness of the night, only being able to see the silhouette of a human. And then with little warning, the figure jumped down from the building. Star then backed up once again as she started to panic. But as she did, she finally realized what was happening. The figure landed feet first, creating a cloud of dust within the dark city street as they landed. A fall from that height would be lethal for any regular person, but this figure seemed unscathed as they immediately started to walk forward after landing. “Ahhh! A-AHHH!” The figure loudly yelled out as they stumbled forward out of the cloud of dust. Now only a few feet away from her, Star could finally see what this figure really looked like. The figure resembled a regular girl. She wore an elegant red dress with a black bow in the middle of it. She stood at five feet ten inches tall and had black hair with a red ribbon tied within her hair. But one part about the girl stood out from everything else, her eyes. Complementing the red ribbon in the girl's hair, her eyes were the same red color. This was, of course, the trademark feature of a vampire. “A-A Vampire? I… I should have known.” Star said seriously, as she continued to back up as she looked right into the vampire's red eyes. The existence of vampires wasn’t well known, and very few humans knew that they actually existed. Many humans believed them to just be fictional creatures from fairy tales. Star was one of those few who knew about vampires and the threat that they posed. “Back off! You’re not the first vampire I’ve encountered.” Star said as she reached into her pocket. She then pulled out a long and rather long and sharp sewing needle. “I’m warning you, unless you really want to go at it.” Star said as she cracked a nervous grin. While it was true that the vampire standing in front of her was threatening, Star couldn’t help but get a little excited as she clutched the needle in her hand. “Ahhh…. AHHHHHH, s-stop!” The vampire loudly yelled as she began to cry as she continued to walk forward towards Star, clearly off balance as she stumbled with each step. Something that Star immediately noticed was that this vampire’s tears weren’t clear like a human's were, but instead were black like oil. While Star had seen a vampire once before, this was new to her and was something that she fought rather creepy. The other vampire she had met was cocky and cunning as she taunted Star and flaunted her skills. In contrast, this vampire seemed less like a human, and more like a monster hunting their prey. “R-run…. Run! I… I can’t s-stop myself! A-Ahh!” The vampire yelled as she suddenly dashed at Star. Star had no time to run as this vampire quickly closed the gap between them. The vampire raised out her hand like a crawl and quickly swung it down at Star. Luckily Star was a very capable person and was able to narrowly dodged it, while quickly slashing her sewing needle through the air, leaving a sizable cut in the vampire's palm. “H-huh? Huh? A-AHHH!” The vampire yelled out as they looked down at their palm and seemed surprised. “This is your last fucking warning!” Star said loudly as she pointed her needle at the vampire. While Star was talking big, she knew that this vampire was much stronger than she was. It was an undeniable fact that vampires were stronger than humans, so despite her quick reflexes, this was a losing battle.“H-help… ME!” The vampire suddenly yelled as she dashed toward Star once again, with even more black tears flowing down her face. This time Star wasn’t fast enough as the vampire's hand struck Star's chest. In an instant Star was thrown back at least ten feet, as she quickly tried to get back up to her feet. Star was injured, but she was not going down without a fight. By the time she was back on her feet the vampire was alrighty up close to her again. She then instinctively slashed her needle at the vampire's head. But her attack fell short as all she managed to do was leave a thin cut on the vampire's cheek. This time the vampire didn’t hesitate as she immediately knocked the needle out of Star’s hand, sending it flying away from both of them. “B-blood…. I… I need blood! AHHH!” The vampire yelled like an animal as she reached forward and grabbed Star’s neck. “Ugh…” Star groaned as she felt the vampire's tight grip on her neck. The vampire's hand unsteadily shook as she raised it, holding Star up off the ground. Now face to face with this deranged vampire and trapped within her grasp, Star was ready for the worst. “P-please… B-Blood.” The vampire mumbled as she slowly brought Star closer to her body, as she opened her mouth. With the vampire mouth open, her two sharp fangs were now visible to Star. It was clear that this vampire was hungry, and that Star’s blood was going to be her next meal. “S-stop! Fucking stop it!” Star said as she tried to get out the vampire's grasp, but ultimately failed, as the vampire was much stronger than her. The vampire then pulled Star close to her body. But then right before the vampire was about to bite into Star’s neck, her grip on Star lightened, as the vampire suddenly fell to the ground unconscious. Star fell as well, as she quickly landed on her feet with her adrenaline still pumping, ready to fight. But as she looked down at the vampire unconscious now laying on the ground, it was obvious that their battle had concluded. Star wasn’t sure what to think as she sighed in relief, thankful that she was alive, but at the same time incredibly confused. As she started to relax, Star knelt down to get a better look at this vampire that had attacked her. With the vampire's eyes and mouth closed, she didn’t look any different than a normal human as she laid on the floor. Star almost felt a little bad for her… almost. But as Star continued to look down at the girl, she suddenly realized that the vampire's face looked oddly familiar. “Wait… don’t tell me.” Star thought as she continued to stare at the vampire. “She looks… like that first vampire I encountered.” Star thought with a confused expression across her face. Around two years ago, Star encountered a vampire for the first time in a dark city alley just like the one she was currently standing in. But that vampire was nothing like the one she had just encountered. That vampire was playful, cunning, and seemed very excited. That greatly contrasted the vampire was now in front of Star, as this vampire seemed to scream and cry like an animal, all throughout their encounter. If the vampire in front of her really was that same vampire, then something was obviously very wrong. Star put her hand onto the unconscious vampire and quickly realized that the vampire was cold, very cold. “Is she… dying?” Star thought as she looked at the vampire's body. Sure enough her body seemed to look incredibly frail, despite her immense strength. That combined with her incredibly cold body temperature confirmed to Star that there was something very wrong with this vampire. “She did say something about needing blood… didn’t she.” Star said with a sigh as she thought about what the vampire had been screaming during their battle. A part of Star wanted to just leave the vampire there and get on with her life, forgetting this encounter ever happened. But another part of Star, a part of herself that she really didn’t understand, knew she couldn’t do that. “If this vampire really needs blood… Then that’s what she’ll get.” Star said with a smirk as she picked up the vampire and put her around her back. To Star’s surprise, the vampire was quite light, as Star was able to hold her with little hassle. “Now, where can I find blood at a time like this?” Star thought as she looked up at the pitch black night sky. One place came to Star’s mind very quickly. But it wasn’t the kind of place that would be open this late, let alone just give her blood. Regardless, Star started to walk towards her destination with the vampire still on her back. Luckily the streets were very barren, and no one saw Star carrying this girl as she walked. Eventually Star found herself in front of a small hospital within the city. While Star was no doctor, she knew hospitals almost always had packs of blood within them, in case patients needed blood transfusions. Of course these packs of blood were for humans, not vampires, but Star didn’t really care. She approached the front door of the hospital and pulled on it, to find that the door was locked. “Yeah… that’s no surprise, I’ll just have to get in some other way.” Star thought to herself as her eyes glanced over at a window on the side of the hospital. A mischievous smile then appeared on her face as she checked to see if anyone was around her. After confirming that the only one nearby was the unconscious vampire, she took out her silvering sewing needle and threw it right at the window. With the loud crack of glass, the window burst open, spilling shards of glass all over the floor. “Easy enough.” Star said out loud with the same mischievous smile, as she jumped through the window, making sure to not step on any of the glass shards. Star then started to wander through the dark hallways of the hospital, hoping to find wherever the hospital stored their packs of blood. After flipping on some light switches and walking through a handful of rooms, Star found a small freezer. As she opened it up, she was glad to see it full of medical packs of blood. “Finally, that took me long enough.” Star mumbled as she took the vampire off of her back, and laid her down on a nearby bench. “Now how the hell do I actually give this to you?” Star thought to herself as she looked at the bag of blood and back at the unconscious vampire as she scratched her head. After deciding to just rip off the top of the bag to open it, she walked over the vampire and kneeled down next to her. “Uhh…” Star awkwardly mumbled as she tried to pry open the vampire's mouth. Star felt a little awkward as she was practically putting her hands into the vampire's mouth as she tried to force her jaw open. “Ehhh whatever, she was trying to kill me just a few minutes ago, she can deal with whatever I’m doing now.” Star said with a smirk as she finally lowered the vampire's jaw, revealing her fangs to Star once again. Star was a little frightened as she saw the vampire's fangs once again, as it reminded her of just how close this vampire had come to killing her. It made her second guess if helping this vampire was actually a smart thing to do. For all she knew, as soon as this vampire drank blood again, she would just wake up and kill her. But despite all reason telling her to help the vampire, she picked up the pack of blood and put it in the vampire's mouth, as she forcibly closed the vampire jaw. Then there was a second of silence, before Star heard a faint sucking noise as the blood started to drain from the pack. It seemed that even though the vampire was unconscious, her body was still able to drink blood. Eventually the blood pack was drained as the empty pack fell out of the vampire's mouth and onto the ground. Star then cautiously got closer to the vampire, unsure of if she would wake up or not. After inspecting her a little bit, it was clear she was still unconscious, but that now she was breathing more and that her body felt a lot warmer than before. Along with that her veins and skin seemed to gain back some color, making her look much healthier and less frail. This made it obvious to Star that the pack of blood was what the vampire needed. “She looks better… So what now.” Star thought to herself as she questioned why she had even helped this vampire in the first place. It wasn’t like she was friends with this vampire or actually knew what this vampire was like. All she had was that first encounter with her, and the one she had just experienced. “Ehh I don’t feel like thinking about it. I’ll just take her out of his hotel and leave her on the side of the road, I need to finally get home.” Star thought to herself as she realized how late it was. This was not to mention that she illegally broke into this hospital and stole some of their blood. If the police saw the broken window and what she stole, they would not be happy with her. It wasn’t like Star was afraid of the police, as she had multiple run-ins with them in the past, but she wanted to avoid another one today. Star then once again picked up the unconscious vampire and started to walk forward, before stopping as she heard a familiar sound from the vampire as she moved. It was a very particular sound, one that could be described as a crinkle. Star was initially very confused, as that sound seemed to signal something very specific. Star wanted to just ignore it, but her curiosity got the best of her as she sat the vampire back down on the bench and pulled up part of the vampire's dress. Part of Star knew this was something she shouldn’t do, but after this vampire had almost killed her, and then she had helped this vampire by breaking into a hospital and giving her a pack of blood, she didn’t care anymore. And as she pulled up the dress, underneath was a rather thick white diaper, one not too different from what a baby would wear. As Star saw this, she was overcome with shock and a little embarrassment. “A diaper… why would a vampire her age need a diaper?” Star thought to herself as she poked the diaper, confirming that it was real. As she looked down at the vampire wearing a diaper, she couldn’t help but think that the vampire looked cute. “On second thought… Maybe I can get more out of this exchange. I did help save her life after all.” Star thought to herself as another mischievous smile covered her face. Star then picked back up the vampire and started to walk home. But she didn’t leave the vampire on the street like she had originally intended to, instead she walked all the way home with the vampire still on her back. Star opened the door to her messy one bedroom apartment and then walked inside with the vampire. Stepping around little scraps of cloth and fabric that littered the ground, Star made her way to a couch and set the vampire down on it. Star then made her way to a large nearby closet and started to sort through the many clothes that were inside of it. She did this until she pulled out one particular piece of clothing. It was a pair of white footed pajamas with frilly light purple edges all around it. There were especially lots of frilly pieces near the neck and shoulder regions of the pajamas, almost resembling a bib. The pajamas were also button ups with purple buttons in the front of it. Then with the same mischievous smile as before, Star turned back to the vampire with the pajamas now in her hands. Without thinking of the consequences, Star started to remove the vampire's dirty red dress, which was stained with dirt and the vampire's black tears, and replaced it with the cute babyish pajamas. Star removed the vampire's dress but kept the white diaper on her as she started to put the pajamas on her. After the clothes were on the vampire, Star took a step back and smiled. “Aww…” Star said out loud as she looked at the vampire. She was rather proud of her work, but after a little bit more time passed, reality came back to her. “Heh if she wakes up like this… she’s definitely going to try to kill me.” Star thought to herself. She thought about it a little more before she decided to double down. She grabbed some especially strong sewing threads that functioned more like rope, and used them to tie together the vampire's hands like a police officer would to a prisoner. She then carried the vampire into her bedroom. Star’s bedroom wasn’t much cleaner than her living room as it still had lots of fabric all throughout it on the floor. But along with Star’s bed, one object in the room stood out. It was a large crib in the middle of the room, large enough for an adult to use despite its babyish look. With the same mischievous smile as before Star put the vampire in the crib before closing the top of the crib, locking it shut so the vampire wouldn’t escape. The crib was very sturdy but Star still had doubts about if the vampire would be able to break through the lock if she tried to. It wasn’t like Star wanted to lock up the vampire, but for her own safety she had to. And as Star looked down at the silver sowing needle still in her pocket, she knew that she could still fight this vampire if necessary. As all of these thoughts filled Star’s head, she looked at the time and decided to go to sleep. So she turned the lights in the room off, and laid in her bed that wasn’t located far from the crib. Star really wasn’t sure what she was doing, but it was far too late to go back now as she drifted off to sleep. An hour later Star woke up to the sound of something in her room moving. She was confused for a second, before she remembered the vampire that she had brought back to her apartment. Star then quickly turned on the lights and nervously made her way toward the crib. “Uhh… uhh… h-huh?” The vampire muttered as her red eyes opened. She looked around dazed and confused as she saw the bars of the crib in front of her. “I… I’m not dead?” The vampire mumbled out loud as she looked down at her hands. She checked to see if she still had all of fingers as she spread her fingers out. “I’m… okay?” The vampire mumbled again as she realized she wasn’t in any pain. As the vampire started to take in her surroundings, unsure of where she was, Star spoke up. “Finally awake?” Star said as she walked over to the crib and looked at the vampire through the bars. “Ehh!” The vampire said in a frightened voice as she tried to back away from Star, but was stopped by the wall of the crib behind her. Star was surprised by this reaction, as it seemed like the vampire was afraid of her. “D-don’t… don’t hurt me.” The vampire said in a nervous voice. “Hurt you?” Star said in a surprised voice as she looked back at the vampire. But then suddenly the vampire’s expression changed. “Wait… you’re… you're a human?” The vampire said, now in a less scared voice. “Yeah of course I am. I’m a human and you're a vampire.” Star said with a smirk. “So… where the fuck am I?” The vampire said as she looked around at her surroundings and finally realized she was in what looked like a crib for babies. “A… crib?” The vampire mumbled as she started to blush. Then immediately the vampire looked down at herself to realize her normal red dress was gone, and was replaced with some frilly purple and white pajamas. “W-what the!” The vampire said loudly as she blushed more and shivered. “Haha… cute.” Star said in a mocking voice as she laughed. “You… you did this to me? Well then I’ll make you regret it!” The vampire yelled loudly as her eyes shined a bright red. In one motion she quickly broke the threads off of her hands, completely freeing them. And then with a single hit of one of her hands, she broke right through the top of the crib, knocking the top section clean off of the crib and onto the floor beside her. “I’ll end you right here, human.” The vampire said seriously, as she finally stood up in the crib, with her eyes glowing even brighter. She then held out her hand in a claw-like pattern, in a way similar to what she did when she had fought Star earlier that night. But this time it was different as three long sharp spikes of some glowing red energy started to appear out of her hand, resembling the claw of a wild animal. It was a majestic site, something that resembled magic. “W-wait!” Star said in a panicked tone as she quickly got out one of her silver sewing needles, in hopes of defending herself. She wasn’t expecting the vampire to be able to break out of the crib so easily, let alone create some claw of red energy like this vampire suddenly did. Then with a devilish smile the vampire jumped at Star, clearly with the intent to cut right into her with her claw. Star didn’t have time to dodge as the vampire was much faster than her. As she looked back at the angry vampire approaching her, she wondered if she was going to die once again. But it seemed like today was her lucky day. As right before the vampire's claw would have pierced her, the claw suddenly disintegrated, as the vampire fell to the floor in front of Star, completely missing her. “Huh? My claw? I can’t… I can’t make it.” The vampire said as she got back on her feet and shook around her hand, seemingly trying to recreate the glowing red claw she had created just seconds ago. “Ugh what the hell, I save your life and this is the thanks I get?” Star said as she caught her breath. “Saved my life? What even happened? I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t even be here right now.” The vampire said as her angry expression turned into one of sorrow as she looked down at her hands once again. “I could ask you the same thing! I was just minding my own business before you attacked me.” Star said angrily. “I… attacked you?” The vampire said in surprise as she turned around to look at Star. “Yeah you almost fucking killed me!” Star said in the same angry voice. “I… attacked you…” The vampire said in disbelief as she walked up close to Star. “Ha… ha… haha…” The vampire said with her eyes wide as she covered her face with her hands. “Uh… something the matter?” Star said in a confused tone, as it seemed like the vampire was losing it. “So… so that’s why I’m alive… I drank your blood.” The vampire muttered as she covered her face. “But in that state… I wouldn’t have left any blood still in you… I would have drank every drop until you fell dead.” The vampire said in a confused voice as she pulled her hands away from her face. “No way I was going to let you drink my blood. Besides, you fell unconscious before you even had the chance to bite me.” Star said seriously. “I did? Then why… why am I still here?” The vampire said in disbelief. “Because I decided to help you out. I found some blood in a nearby hospital and next thing I know, you're back to being a regular vampire.” Star said confidently. “You gave me blood? From… from a hospital? You saved me?” The vampire said in disbelief. “Yeah, so now with that out of the way, want to tell me why you were acting like some wild beast back there?” Star asked, as she finally wanted some answers. “Oh… that. T-that was… uhhh… My e-execution.” The vampire mumbled as her tone got rather depressed and she looked at the ground. “Execution? For a vampire?” Star asked in a confused tone. “It’s a special type of execution… one that is only used for those believed to be traitors. A vampire would be taken into the human city, starved of blood until they can’t think or feel for themselves. And then they are let go into an empty part of the city where no humans will be. So in their last moments, they will be searching for any blood to keep themselves alive, but will never find it. And tonight… that traitorous vampire was me.” The vampire said in a sorrowful voice as she continued to look at the ground, avoiding eye contact with Star. “So since I was nearby…” Star said as she thought about what the vampire just told her. “They must have missed you… it was you, who botched my execution by being nearby.” The vampire said as her body shivered and she thought about just how close she had come to dying. “I… I am alive right? I… I’m not actually dead and am just dreaming this am I?” The vampire said as she looked over at Star with a dazed look. “Don’t think so, because I’m pretty damn sure I’m not asleep.” Star said with a smirk. “I guess. So… human, you saved me. But who are you?” The vampire asked. “Oh… uh, I’m Star, call me Star.” She said with a straightened face. “Star? Heh, pretty cutesy name for someone like you.” The vampire teased as the mood between them lightened. “Yeah… I’m not a fan of it either.” Star said in an annoyed tone, as her expression got a bit colder. “It’s Nycia. That's my name.” The vampire then exclaimed. After the vampire revealed her name, there was some awkward silence between the two of them as neither said a word. But a little bit later Star broke this silence. “You're pretty cute for a vampire, Nycia.” Star said as she began to laugh. “Huh?” Nycia said in surprise, as she suddenly remembered the embarrassing pajamas she was still wearing. “W-wait… you put me in these stupid clothes!” Nycia said angrily, as she shivered again. “Haha.” Star said as she continued to laugh. “I… I… I’ll still just fucking kill you!” Nycia said angrily with a deep blush as she jumped at Star, tackling her to the ground. But even on the ground, Star seemed unbothered as she continued to laugh. “I’ll just put an end to you right now.” The vampire yelled with the same blush as before. She then spread out her fingers to form a claw with her hand, before putting it right up against Star’s neck, knowing that with a single strike she could easily pierce through Star’s neck, instantly killing her. But then suddenly, Nycia felt something cut through her hand as she recoiled in pain and jumped backwards, as Star was able to get away from Nycia and back up onto her feet. “What the fuck…” Nycia said, as she looked down at her fingers to see that they had been cut, and that she was now bleeding. “A human shouldn’t be able to cut a vampire… unless…” Nycia said as she looked over at Star and noticed the silver needle now in her hand. “Unless they use silver right? Don’t think I brought you here without a little knowledge of how to defend myself.” Star said with a smirk. “Ugh… I guess I misjudged you for some dumb unprepared girl.” Nycia said in an angry tone as she felt her bleeding hand. “Guess so, but can you stop trying to kill me? I saved your life after all, didn’t I?” Star said angrily. “F-fine… we can call a truce.” Nycia said with an angry expression, as she clearly didn’t want Star to get the upper hand on her, but at the same time was in no shape to fight her. “Good, alright now give me a second.” Star said as she walked into another room, leaving the vampire alone for a little bit. In this small moment of privacy, Nycia was finally able to take in her surroundings as she looked around at the small messy apartment she was standing in. She quickly noticed the scraps of cloth all around the floor, before looking back at the large adult sized crib that she woke up in. As she continued to look around, she only became more and more confused about who this human named “Star” was. “Alright here.” Star said casually, as she walked back into the room with some bandages in her hands. “Huh?” Nycia said in surprise, as Star approached her. Then before Nycia could properly react, Star grabbed her hand and started to put the bandages around the fingers that she had just cut with her sewing needle. “Done.” Star said, as she let go of Nycia’s hand. “Uhh… thanks?” Nycia said in a confused voice, as she didn’t understand why this human had decided to help bandage her wounds. “Heh, don’t mention it. It would be cruel of me to not patch up a cute vampire like you.” Star joked. “I-I… I’m not cute! Why did you even put me in these embarrassing clothes?” Nycia said in an embarrassed tone, as she lifted up her arms. “You were the one who was wearing a diaper when you fell unconscious, I just completed the look.” Star said confidently, as she saw nothing wrong with her reasoning. “T-the look? I’m not some stupid baby!” Nycia said in an embarrassed and angry tone. “Then why are you wearing that baby diaper?” Star asked with a smirk. “I… I have to. I’m… I’m a baby vampire… But not a real baby! Don’t get it mixed up.” Nycia frantically said, as she blushed even more. “A baby vampire? So it’s different?” Star asked, curiously. “It’s just some stupid rule to tell the older and younger vampires apart. Since we physically don’t age much, it sets us apart. I guess I’m young for a vampire but I’m still 21.” Nycia said with a grimace. “Huh, the same age as me.” Star said in response, as she scratched her head. “But only one of us is still in diapers.” Star continued with a smirk. “Hey! I wouldn’t wear them if I had a choice, but I don’t. A vampire pact makes me wear them, a pact directly with my… my queen.” Nycia said, as her voice got more sorrow once again. “A vampire pact? Eh, not my problem. And besides, I saved your life, so the least you could do is help me out.” Star proclaimed. “Help you out? With what?” Nycia said in a confused voice. “Well you see… those pajamas you have on, I didn’t just buy them at a store. I made them by hand.” Star said in a confident voice as she crossed her arms. “Y-you did?” Nycia said, as she looked down at the clothes on her body. Just the sight of the clothes was enough to make her shiver in embarrassment, but she couldn’t help but admit that the pajamas were very finely crafted, like they had been made by a professional. “You made these?” Nycia said in shock, as she felt the pajamas around herself. “Yeah, pretty cute right? At least I think so…” Star said confidently. “But… if I want to sell them, or improve them, I need to model them on someone.” Star said. “Model? Can’t you just wear them yourself?” Nycia asked in a confused voice. “No way, those babyish clothes don’t fit my style. And besides I’m too short to wear them, they only look cute when on people who are tall enough to look like big babies in them.” Star said happily. “Look like babies…” Nycia said with a cringed expression, clearly not a fan of where Star was going. “So… you wanted me to be your model?” Nycia continued with an embarrassed expression. “Why not? Those clothes suit you pretty well.” Star said happily. “No fucking way! I’m not your dress up doll. Where are my regular clothes?” Nycia asked angrily, as she was sick of wearing the babyish pajamas. “Oh, I put those in the washing machine. They were covered in dirt and your black tears from before, so you wouldn’t want to wear those now.” Star said with a smirk. “W-what? So I’m stuck looking like a fucking baby?” Nycia said angrily, as she looked down at herself and blushed more. “Looks like it.” Star said with a cocky grin. “I… I really want to kill you right now.” Nycia said as her eyes started to glow again. “Yeah yeah… I’m sure you do. But uh, how about we continue with the whole wanting to kill me thing in the morning? It’s like 3 AM and I want to go back to sleep.” Star said as she yawned. “I guess my body does feel pretty worn down.” Nycia said, as she thought back to how she was going to die due to blood loss only a few hours ago. Really it was a miracle she even had the strength to still stand. “Good, now I’m going to pass out.” Star said with a smirk as she laid down in her bed. “W-wait… where do I sleep?” Nycia asked as she blushed. “Well the crib is still there.” Star said with a smirk. “No fucking way.” Nycia said, as she got even angrier. “Well I only have one bed… I guess you could sleep beside me if you want.“ Star said casually. “Sleep beside a human… How… how the hell did I get here.” Nycia said, as she blushed and covered her face with one of her hands. “Your choice.” Star said casually with the same smirk as before. “F-fine… just leave me alone.” Nycia said angrily, as she turned off the lights and got in bed beside Star. As Nycia pulled the covers over herself, Star laughed a little as the vampire wearing the frilly pajamas laid next to her. Star still wasn’t quite sure why she decided to help out this vampire, but she was starting to believe that she made the right decision. As she looked over at Nycia desperately trying to get to sleep with her eyes closed, Star closed her eyes as well, as she drifted off into a deep slumber. An hour later, Star awoke to the sound of a bloodcurdling scream. In a panic she quickly sat up in bed as her fight or flight instincts kicked in. But as she looked around her dark room, she realized that nothing was off. Her room was just how she left it when she had last closed her eyes. Then there was another loud noise. “Ahh… Ah! P-please f-forgive me. S-spare… spare me!” Nycia screamed out as she cried. As Nycia screamed, Star looked over at her to see that the vampire eyes were still closed, and that she was still asleep. Star had initially thought that something had gone wrong, but instead it seemed like the vampire beside her was just having a nightmare. While it was obvious that Nycia was crying in her sleep, unlike before her tears weren’t black, but instead clear like normal humans were. Star was still a little afraid of Nycia, after all Nycia had almost killed her a few times that night. But as she looked at the vampire in the frilly pajamas scream for forgiveness, she wanted to help her out. So, Star got a little closer to her in bed, and then started to gently pat the vampire's head. “P-please I want to live… p-please I… I… h-huh…?” Nycia said, as her screams stopped and she slowly opened her teary eyes, as she woke up. “W-what… what are you doing?” Nycia asked in an unsteady voice, as she turned to look at Star. “Just trying to calm you down, you big baby. This always seemed to calm my sister down.” Star teased, as she continued to pat her head. Nycia shot her back a dirty look as she buried herself deeper in the covers of the bed. But Nycia didn’t tell Star to stop patting her, as she blushed and closed her eyes. Then after a little while, it seemed like Nycia had finally drifted off to sleep. Seeing the vampire not scream anymore relaxed Star, as she eventually stopped patting Nycia’s head and drifted back to sleep as well. When Star eventually woke up again, she was greeted by daylight sweeping through her windows, illuminating her room. As she recounted what had happened to her last night, she turned to her side to see that Nycia was no longer lying next to her. Star then let out a sigh of relief and disappointment, as it seemed like Nycia had left in the middle of the night. Nycia did scare Star, she was a powerful vampire after all. But Star also liked having someone around. Despite her fear, it was a nice change of pace. Star then stood up out of bed and stretched her arms, before walking into her apartment’s main living room. The room was just as messy as Star had left it. But what stood out to Star was that the door to her balcony was wide open. Assuming this was something Nycia did before leaving, Star walked over to it with the intent of closing the door. But right when she got to the door and could fully see around her balcony, she realized there was someone on her balcony, kneeling down and looking up at the sky. Wearing purple and white pajamas, it was none other than Nycia who was kneeling there. Star was immediately surprised to see her there, as she assumed the vampire had no reason to stay around a human like her. Star then took this opportunity to join Nycia on the balcony, as she walked through the door to the balcony and closed it behind her. “So you didn’t leave after all.” Star said with a joyful smirk, as she approached the vampire. But Nycia didn’t respond as she faced away from Star, with her body completely still as she looked up at the sun and the clouds. “Uhh… you okay?” Star joked as she got a little closer to her. “It’s… it’s beautiful.” Nycia responded in a soft voice, as she continued to look up at the sky in some sort of trance. “Beautiful? The sky?” Star asked in a confused tone. “It looks… so big, like it never ends. And that thing… the sun, that’s what you humans call it right? It’s… it’s so beautiful.” Nycia responded in the same soft voice as she continued to stare at the sky. “Have you… never seen the sky?” Star said with a slight laugh. “No. I haven’t.” Nycia said softly. “Vampires live in Nuwick, the underground city. It’s rare for us to be in a human city, especially during the day.” Nycia said softly. “Underground city…” Star mumbled as she thought about what Nycia had told her. Star had done some research on vampires after being attacked by Nycia two years ago, but she was never able to figure out where vampires actually lived. So the idea of an underground city was a very foreign concept to her. Then there was a moment of silence as Nycia stayed completely still looking up at the sky, while Star just quietly stood behind her, unsure of what to say or do. And then after about a minute passed, Nycia finally moved. In a flash she stood up as she finally looked away from the sky and instead looked toward Star. She then reached towards Star's neck, grabbing it as she firmly gripped it and held Star’s body up off the ground. “What the… c-come on.” Star said in a panicked voice, as she tried to free herself from the vampire's grip, but was unable to break through the vampire's immense strength. Star had thought that after everything that happened last night, this vampire had decided not to harm her. But it was now obvious that wasn’t true. Star then tried to pull out her silver sewing needles, but as she started to struggle to breath, she didn’t have the strength or dexterity to pull them out of her pockets. As the vampire's grip on her tightened, Star feared the worst. Just like when this vampire was attacking her with black tears flowing down her face, it seemed like Star was about to die. But as Star looked back at Nycia, she didn’t see the expression of someone who wanted her dead, rather she saw the expression of someone who looked lost. As Nycia held up Star, she was in complete control. Star couldn’t fight back and this was finally her chance to kill the human that had put her in those embarrassing clothes. But as Nycia hesitated and just held Star out in front of her, tears started to once again flow out of her eyes. Just like last time, her grip loosened as Star fell to the ground, somewhat unscathed. And then as Nycia covered her eyes with her hands, she knelled down again and started to sob like a baby. “Ah… uhhh. W-wahhhh.” Nycia uncontrollably cried out into her arms. It was an odd site, as the vampire completely broke down at Star's feet. Star was hurt as Nycia had clearly damaged her throat. But despite her pain, she didn’t feel any hatred or malice toward Nycia. Star didn’t know why she wasn’t upset, as she didn’t consider herself an overly nice or forgiving person. If it was anyone else, Star believed she would have attacked them in retaliation or even done worse. But that’s not what she wanted to do in that moment. Star then quietly sat down next to the crying vampire. Then a little bit of time passed as Star just silently sat there and watched the vampire cry. And eventually Nycia’s crying started to stop. “So… you're not going to kill me?” Star asked in a joking tone. “I-I want to kill you. B-but… but if I do, I’ll be all alone again.” Nycia said in a depressed tone as she looked at the ground. “They used to love me you know? They would cheer my name, look up to me, want to be me. But all of that is gone now.” Nycia continued in a sad voice. “Before… m-my execution, they locked me away to wait until they would finally kill me. For a month I was all alone with my thoughts in that cell. And when I finally saw another vampire again, they were there to execute me.” Nycia mumbled as she only seemed to get sadder. “O-oh…” Star said, as she wasn’t expecting Nycia to be so open about such a traumatic moment. “I was alone for that entire month. And, I… I really really don’t want to be alone again.” Nycia said as tears started to form in her eyes once again. “Well… I can’t speak for anyone else, but if you want to stay around me, I won’t leave.” Star said casually. “W-what? but you’re a human. I’m a vampire… aren’t you afraid of me? Don’t you want to run away?” Nycia asked as she looked over at Star. “I mean… a little, yeah? You did just try to kill me. But do you really think the fear of death is going to make me run away?” Star said with a smirk. “You… you’re an odd human.” Nycia said in response. “B-but… if you… if you really won’t just leave me here…” Nycia mumbled as she suddenly tightly hugged Star. “W-woah… heh.” Star said as she felt Nycia tightly hug her. She didn’t expect this much affection from the vampire, but she certainly wasn’t against it. “Aw… the cute vampire likes me huh?” Star teased. “Shut it! I’m not cute.” Nycia said with a pout as she pulled away from Star. “Heh whatever… alright let’s get back inside it’s getting cold out her.” Star casually said as she stood up. Nycia agreed as both of them walked back into Star’s apartment. They then both sat on Star’s couch and began to relax again, as the tension surrounding them started to fade. “So… you… you won’t leave me?” Nycia asked again in a serious tone. “Unless you want me to. I live here alone, so I’m alright with some company. Not to mention I get a good model out of it.” Star teased. “Don’t remind me.” Nycia said angrily, as she looked down at her babyish clothes. “But if you let me stay here… maybe it’s worth it, it’s not like they’re going let me back in Nuwick. Not after what I did.” Nycia said in a sad tone. “What did you do that was so bad?” Star asked bluntly. Nycia didn’t respond as she just looked at the ground with a pained expression. “Uh alright… well moving on.” Star said in response, as it was obvious Nycia didn’t want to talk about it. “I… I’ll be right back.” Nycia said as she stood up and started walking to the bathroom, but she only got a few steps forward, before suddenly feeling off balance and falling right to the ground. “Uh you good?” Star asked as she walked over and bent down next to the vampire now lying on the floor. “Fuck… ugh… I’m thirsty.” Nycia mumbled as she slowly got back to her feet. “Thirsty? You mean…” Star asked. “For blood…” Nycia said nervously. “In Nuwick I was provided vials of blood due to my status. But I don’t have those anymore.” Nycia said in a sad tone. “Status? What kind of vampire are you?” Star asked in a confused tone. “I… I’ll explain later okay? But I really need blood… or I’ll really die.” Nycia said in a strained voice, as she felt her body get weaker. “Uhh well if you don’t kill me, I guess you can take mine.” Star said bluntly. “Your blood? A live… humans blood…” Nycia quietly mumbled. “Isn’t that how vampires usually get blood? They just drink it from humans?” Star asked as she was confused about why Nycia seemed so shocked at the idea. “I’ve… I’ve only ever drank one human's blood directly from their neck before.” Nycia admitted in an embarrassed tone. “Huh? Again… what kind of vampire are you?” Star asked, as more questions began to fill her mind. “Later… I just need blood. But I don’t want to accidentally kill you…” Nycia said nervously. “Kill me? What are you on about?” Star asked. “If I… if I take too much of your blood, you’ll die. And I’ll be alone again.” Nycia whimpered. “Is it really that hard to not kill me?” Star said as she scratched the back of her head. “Most vampires figure it out quickly… but most vampires suck a human's blood at least twice a week. I’ve only done it once before. That time was successful, but this time… on a different person, I don’t know.” Nycia said hesitantly. “You only ever drank one human's blood before…” Star said out loud as she thought about it. “But this time… it’s different.” Nycia mumbled nervously. But then, the tension in the room was suddenly lightened by the sound of laughter. “Haha…” Star said as she started to laugh. “Huh?” Nycia said in a confused voice, as she didn’t know what was so funny. “You really don’t remember me do you? I thought you were just playing dumb at first.” Star said confidently as she crossed her arms. “I… I don’t get it.” Nycia responded in the same confused voice. “You know I was attacked by a vampire about two years ago. A really cocky and excited one, wearing a red dress with a red ribbon in her hair. She was fast, really fast and I couldn’t get away from her. So, she ended up drinking my blood. But that was it, she didn’t really harm me, let alone actually kill me.” Star casually explained. “Two years ago… n-no way. Was that really you?” Nycia said as she looked at Star in awe, as the memories started to come back to her. “I’m not really into concepts like “fate”, but maybe we were supposed to meet again two years later.” Star said happily. “M-maybe…” Nycia said quietly. “Alright so come on, drink my blood. I don’t need you to become deprived of blood again, you were no fun like that.” Star said rather casually. “Uh… I… okay… okay.” Nycia said out loud, as she talked herself into it. She walked up to Star, and pulled Star’s shirt away a little to reveal the skin on her neck. “This… this might hurt.” Nycia said. “Ehh I’m used to pain.” Star said rather casually. Nycia then took a deep breath before biting right into Star’s neck with her fangs. Star winced in pain as Nycia wasn’t kidding, it really did hurt. But still, Star kept quiet while Nycia continued to drink her blood. And then a few seconds later, Nycia pulled away from Star’s neck with a mouth full of blood and a large grin across her face. “Heh… heh heh…” Nycia mumbled as she suddenly fell to the floor once again, this time on her back. “So… so tasty. I forgot how good fresh blood tasted.” Nycia joyfully said with a smile. “Uh… glad you liked it.” Star said, as she thankfully wasn’t dead, but now felt light headed. “Heh…” Nycia continued to mumble as she laid on the floor. But then something different happened. A hiss sound was suddenly audibly heard by both girls. And both of them knew exactly what it was from. “W-what?” Nycia said, as she was knocked out of her blood sucking trance. “Nycia did you just…” Star said as an evil grin appeared on her face. “No… I uh…” Nycia mumbled as she blushed. Star then walked over to the vampire and quickly pulled her pajama pants down, revealing a now yellowed and sagging diaper beneath them. “Hey stop!” Nycia yelled as she quickly pulled the pants back up. “Didn’t you say the other day you didn’t need diapers?” Star said with a grin. “I… I don’t! This hasn’t happened before.” Nycia protested. “Oh really? So this is your first wet diaper? How embarrassing.” Star continued. “S-stop…” Nycia whined. “Aw, but you look so cute! I should get some pictures so you can model for me in a wet diaper.” Star said happily as she continued to tease her. “Pictures? No fucking way!” Nycia said as she got back on her feet and backed up away from Star. “Aw… so cute, you know, you kind of remind me of my sister.” Star said happily. “Whatever… just stop talking about my…” Nycia said as she didn’t finish her sentence. “Your wet diaper? Is the scary vampire embarrassed?” Star teased. “I… I really want to kill you again.” Nycia said angrily as her eyes glowed red once again. “Yeah I’m sure you do. But you can’t do that if you want me to change that dirty diaper.” Star said with a shrug. “C-change my diaper?” Nycia muttered as she blushed. “Well I can’t just leave this cute vampire in a wet diapee can I?” Star teased again. “You… a human, can’t change my diaper.” Nycia said as her tone got more serious. “And… why not?” Star asked curiously. “If… if a human changes a vampire's diaper, a vampire pact is made between them. A pact that supposedly interweaves their fate.” Nycia said seriously, as she tried to keep a straight expression despite her embarrassment. “Vampire pacts? Those are real? Ehh… who cares.” Star said casually. “What? I don’t think you realize how serious this is, a vampire pact isn’t something you can go back on. It’s something that remains for the rest of one's life.” Nycia said seriously. “I mean… aren’t our fates already intertwined? I already saved your life didn’t I? And apparently I’m the only human you’ve drunken blood from as well.” Star said. “I… I guess?” Nycia said as she blushed, unsure of what else to say. “Then come on, I doubt you want to stay in that wet diaper any longer.” Star said as she walked over to her closet and pulled out a clean diaper. “F-fine…” Nycia said in an embarrassed tone as she laid down on the floor. “Good, but after I change you, can you finally tell me who you actually are?” Star asked as she still had so many questions about Nycia. “Yeah yeah… just get me out of this wet thing.” Nycia said, as she looked down at the embarrassing clothes and wet diaper beneath her and blushed. “Sure thing baby.” Star said with a smirk, as she started to undress Nycia and change her wet diaper. Nycia blushed profusely throughout, but didn’t say a thing as Star was changing her. Star on the other hand was much more talkative. “What a wet diaper, looks like this vampire really had to go.” Star teased as she changed Nycia into a clean diaper. “S-stop…” Nycia mumbled as she felt the new diaper get placed on her. “Hehe.” Star said happily with an evil grin, as she put the purple and white pajamas back on the vampire. “Finally.” Nycia said with a sigh as she sat up. “Not a fan of wet diapers huh?” Star teased again. “No fucking way. That was disgusting.” Nycia angrily responded. “You’re the vampire that peed herself like a little baby.” Star said in response. “I didn’t mean to! Again that’s never happened before.” Nycia defensively said. “Really? Was my blood just that tasty?” Star said with a smirk. “It… your blood was uh…” Nycia mumbled as she didn’t want to admit to liking Star’s blood. “Well if you like it so much, then maybe I’ll give you some more sometime. Who knows.” Star said with the same smirk. Then there was a little bit of silence as both girls sat back down on the couch. Soon after, Nycia rolled up the sleeve on her right arm, revealing a black mark on her arm that wasn’t there before she had been changed by Star. There were some odd symbols on the mark and then simply a name along with them, with the name on Nycia’s arm simply reading “Star.” “And there it is… The pact.” Nycia said with a sigh, as she looked at the odd mark on her arm. “Wait… that pact was real? That mark wasn’t there before.” Star said in a surprised tone. “Huh? Of course it is, didn’t I just warn you about it?” Nycia said in a confused voice. “I thought you just didn’t want me to change you.” Star said as she also rolled up the sleeve on her right arm to reveal a similar mark with the name “Nycia” on it. “Of course I wasn’t joking, dumbass.” Nycia snapped. “Huh…” Star said as she looked at the pact on her arm and a small smile appeared across her face. “You seem… happy?” Nycia asked in a confused voice. “It’s nothing.” Star said as her smile faded and she leaned back in the couch. “Alright, so I changed your dirty diaper, so now you have to tell me who the fuck you actually are.” Star said as her tone got a bit more serious and she pointed at Nycia. “Fine… where do I start?” Nycia said out loud as she winced, clearly not wanting to talk about herself. “The only vampire you’ve actually ever seen is me, right?” Nycia asked. “Yeah only you, I’ve heard about other but I haven’t seen them up close.” Star said with a shrug. “So… I’m a vampire, a blood sucker, whatever you humans call us. All vampires suck blood and come from the underground vampire city of Nuwick, but that doesn’t mean we are all the same. In fact, there are five types of us. Type 1 vampires have about the physical strength of a regular human, if not a little lower than an average human's strength. Type 2 vampires get stronger, with them being on par with some of the strongest humans. Type 3 vampires break that sort of limit, and go past the normal strength of what a human is able to reach. Type 4 vampires, the nobles, break those limits again by doing things that shouldn’t normally be possible. Vampire pacts, “magic”, things that just don’t have a logical reason behind them, these are things they can mess with. And type 5… belongs to the vampire queen and no one else. It’s unsure of really how strong she is, but her strength is rumored to be above all other vampires.” Nycia explained. “Vampire types? There’s a whole system in place?” Star said with a confused look, as she wasn’t expecting there to be so much to learn. “Yeah there is. And I’m no regular vampire, I’m a type four vampire. So really, I’m a noble. Or at least was a noble.” Nycia said as her tone grew sadder and she looked back down at the ground. “A noble huh? I guess you were pretty special.” Star said. “I was… I was really special.” Nycia said as she held out her hand and looked down at it. “I wasn’t just any noble either, I had a very unique role. I was a knight.” Nycia said seriously. “A knight? You?” Star said as she didn’t believe her. “I guess I don’t act like a knight do I? Other vampires told me that a lot actually. But they still loved me.” Nycia said softly as she thought back to her past. “Okay… so how did the whole knight thing work?” Star asked, curiously. “I’ve been a knight ever since I could remember. Even as a child I was always raised to be a knight to the vampire queen. It was nice… I lived in luxury, people celebrated me, and all I had to do was show off a little, and vampires would start to chant my name.” Nycia said as she softly smiled. “Even the other nobles weren’t as celebrated as we were, we were just liked that much.” Nycia continued. “We?” Star asked. “Oh… well I wasn’t the only knight of the vampire queen. There were two of us, Lyric and I.” Nycia said as her tone got sadder. “I assume you two were friends?” Star asked. “I guess you could call us that. We grew up together after all. We lived in the same house and trained with each other every day to get stronger. But Lyric… is more knight like than I am.” Nycia said as she explained her past. “Well that’s a pretty easy thing to do.” Star teased. “Shut it…” Nycia mumbled with an annoyed expression. “But really… it was a good life. We were celebrities, people loved us. Every day we would have exhibition matches against each other in front of crowds of people. And not to brag… but I beat her more times than she beat me.” Nycia said with a sly smile. “Good for you.” Star said as she rolled her eyes. “But my life was different from most vampires. Lyric and I were always in the spotlight, so the other nobles made a lot of rules on what we could or couldn’t do. It was pretty damn annoying, but I tried to not think about it. Neither of us were even allowed to leave Nuwick to get blood, instead we were just provided vials of blood to keep us alive. The other nobles told us that they didn't want us to leave Nuwick because they didn’t want humans to know about us knights. Well… I guess that didn’t work out.” Nycia said with a slight smirk, as she was currently telling a human about the knights. “Heh yeah I guess so. But uh you seem pretty happy talking about your past, so what went so wrong?” Star asked. “W-well… Being a knight did come with its problems. Mainly the Queen.” Nycia said as her expression got a lot angrier. “The vampire queen is said to be the strongest vampire alive. And as her knight my sole goal in life is to serve and protect her. And despite that, despite all of my training, I haven’t even fucking seen her!” Nycia said angrily as she clenched her hand into a fist. “Huh?” Star said, confused. “I’ve been told she “doesn’t like attention” and that she “works without being seen”, but I don’t even know if she exists! I hated it. I hated devoting my life to someone I despised so much. And… and one day… it got to me.” Nycia said as her body began to shake. “So… what was it?” Star asked. But Nycia didn’t respond, instead she just continued to shake as tears started to form in her eyes again. “I… I… I uh I…” Nycia started to aggressively say. Then suddenly Star put her hand around the crying vampires back, comforting her. “It’s okay… I don’t need to hear anymore.” Star said softly. “Who knew I ran into such a special vampire.” Star said with a smirk. “I guess so…” Nycia mumbled as she continued to cry. “I just… miss my home. But I’m not going to be let back into Nuwick now. Not after what I did.” Nycia said sadly, as she continued to cry. Star continued to comfort Nycia as neither girl said anything for a moment. “I’ve lived a pretty different life than you… but I know how it’s like to lose your home.” Star said in a serious voice. “Actually?” Nycia asked, surprised at what Star was saying. “My childhood was rough to say the least. I did some… pretty damn bad things.” Star said as she scratched her neck. “My parents didn’t help, in fact they always somehow made it worse. I didn’t like them and they didn’t like me. And it certainly didn’t help that they gave me this cutesy name.” Star said as she scowled. “I thought you liked cute things.” Nycia said. “On others sure, but not on myself.” Star said in response. “I really did hate my home life, but it wasn’t all bad, my two sisters were there. I… I really cared about them.” Star continued as she started to tear up as well. Nycia saw this and decided to comfort Star just like how Star was currently comforting her, by putting her arm around Star’s back as well. “Eventually I pushed it too far, and I was kicked out of the house. I want to blame my parents but… it was my fault, I have only myself to blame. If I was just… a better person, nothing would have gone wrong. But I wasn’t that better person. So at 14 years old, I was all alone, living on the streets. I don’t miss my parents, but I miss having a home, a place I belong. And my sisters… I… I hope they’re doing okay, I never saw either of them again after that day.” Star said with tears in her eyes. “Maybe… we are a little alike.” Nycia muttered as she looked at Star. “Think so?” Star asked as she looked back at her. Then after a moment, suddenly Star hugged Nycia. Nycia was caught off guard by Star, but had no complaints about being hugged by the girl. Neither of them said anything as they hugged, but as they eventually pulled away from each other, both of them had stopped crying. “Alright enough of that sappy shit, I have a job to do.” Star said in a more cheerful voice as she stood up from the couch. “Hm? What job?” Nycia asked. “I told you that before, didn't I? I make clothes, I’m a seamstress.” Star said as she pulled out two of her silver sewing needles, one for each hand. “Right… you can do more with those than just cut me.” Nycia said angrily as she looked down at the pajamas she was still wearing along with the bandages on her hand from where Star had cut her. “You attacked me first.” Star reminded her. “I guess that’s fair. But you don’t expect me to be your model right now… right?” Nycia said with an annoyed look. “Well I doubt you would want to help me much right now, but I have some projects I can work on myself.” Star said. “Good.” Nycia said with a sigh of relief. “But if you're going to be living here with me, you might as well get used to the place.” Star said casually. “How so?” Nycia asked, a little confused as Star’s apartment wasn’t very big. “Maybe start with a shower? You still smell like pee.” Star teased. “H-hey!” Nycia said as she blushed, being reminded of the accident she had in her diaper. “Fine… but can I at least get some normal clothes to wear afterwards?” Nycia asked. “Hm? No way, you're still my model regardless of if we have a pact now or whatever.” Star said casually. “I… I’m really going to kill you and take them by force at this rate.” Nycia said angrily. “Heh you're cute when you're angry.” Star teased as she walked back into her bedroom, intending on finally getting some work done. This gave Nycia some time to be alone and take a shower after everything she had recently been through. “Stupid human…” Nycia angrily muttered to herself as she walked into Star’s bathroom. While vampire showers functioned a little differently than human ones, Nycia was still able to turn it on and relax inside with some privacy. She had many conflicting thoughts about what had happened to her and what she had now gotten herself into. But above all else, she was glad to be alive, and was also glad to not be alone. Some time went by as Nycia took a shower and got adjusted to Star’s apartment. While her apartment wasn’t anything special for a human, for a vampire who knew very little about humans and how they lived, many aspects of the apartment were completely new to her. As the day started to turn back into night, Nycia eventually walked back into Star’s bedroom to see what she was doing. Nycia entered the room and quickly found the desk that Star was working on along with some light blue colored clothing on the desk that Star was obviously creating. But instead of finding Star sitting at the desk, she found her lying on the ground completely asleep despite being only a few feet away from her bed. “She was that tired?” Nycia thought to herself as she looked down at Star. “I guess any human would be tired after fighting me. How was she even able to do that? A human shouldn’t be anywhere near as strong as a noble.” Nycia thought as she picked up Star and decided to take her to her bed. Nycia had no problem doing this as she was very strong and Star didn’t seem to weigh too much to begin with. But as soon as she picked up Star, she took a second to just look down at the human in her arms. As she watched Star sleep, Nycia wondered if this was similar to how Star watched her sleep, when Star had originally saved her life by giving her blood from a hospital. After a little more time had passed, Nycia walked over to Star’s bed and laid her down on it before getting in the bed beside her. “Huh?” Star mumbled as her eyes slightly opened as she turned to Nycia. “Hey…” Nycia said softly with a slight smile. “I’m… in bed? Did you take me here?” Star asked in a confused voice. “Yep. Now I want to get some sleep.” Nycia said. “Heh, sounds good to me. And it seems like you don’t smell like pee anymore either.” Star teased in a sleepy voice. “Ugh… goodnight.” Nycia said as she turned away from her in bed and closed her eyes. “Yeah, goodnight.” Star said as she closed her eyes as well. While neither girl's life has gone how they wanted it to, they were both glad that they weren’t sleeping alone that night. To Be Continued

This short story shows a day in the life of Amy, a 14-year-old girl in an alternate world where children stay in diapers until they’re 16. “Wake up, Amy, otherwise you’ll be late for school”, said Amy’s mom as she gently nudged her 14-year-old daughter awake. “…mmph, five more minutes mom” replied the groggy young girl, unwilling to get out of bed on this cold winter morning. “We can’t do five minutes hon, we both know you’re never going to get out of bed today if you go back to sleep now” said her mom as she pushed the blankets aside, revealing her daughter curled up in her pyjamas. The pyjama bottoms had a bulge, a telltale sign of what was to be found underneath. Her mom then pulled down Amy’s pants, causing the young girl to wince at the cool air touching her skin. With Amy’s pyjama pants pulled off, her diaper was now on display for her mother to see. As usual, Amy had once again given her diaper a good soaking overnight, which now had a yellow tinge all the way to the back. Thankfully, the diaper seems to have held everything in, successfully keeping her bed dry. “Gosh, you’re soaked again this morning. We’re going to have to get you some thicker diapers if you keep peeing this much” lamented her mom as she grabbed the wipes, powder and a fresh diaper for her still sleeping daughter. Placing her tools on the bed next to Amy, her mom proceeded to get to work: she untaped the diaper, causing the front to plop heavily on the bed. Next was the wiping - she grabbed a wipe, first placing it on her own thigh for a couple of seconds to warm it up, before applying it to Amy. She gave the front a couple of wipes, making sure it was clean, then she asked the young girl to lift her legs so she could wipe the back too. Once that was done with, she placed the fresh diaper under Amy’s bum, applied a liberal amount of powder, and taped the diaper in place, making sure it wasn’t too tight around her waist. “We’re done, kiddo” said her mom, who was rolling up the old diaper before throwing it into the diaper bin. “I’ve already prepared breakfast so get yourself ready.” *** Amy grimaced as she felt her diaper once again getting warm as she emptied her bladder during sixth period. She didn’t mind the feeling of a wet diaper, in fact she liked it quite a bit, but this was her fifth wetting and she could feel that the dampness inside which meant her diaper was approaching its capacity. She could have easily approached any of the nurses at school for a change, but for shy Amy, the only one who was allowed to get close to her diaper was her mom. She didn’t know how to change herself yet, so the only thing she could do was to hope and pray that her diaper would last her until she got home. Much to her relief, class let out before her diaper did, and the girl quickly bid her goodbyes to her friends before rushing home. “I’m home, mom! I think I need a change” said Amy the moment she reached home. “Welcome home, dear” said Amy’s mom as she lifted up the girl’s skirt to get a view of her diaper, which was saturated and on the verge of leaking. “Jeez, you’re right, this thing is soaked. How many times did you pee?” “...five, I guess?” replied Amy. While she wasn’t potty trained yet, she could tell that she was peeing whenever a new stream of warmth entered her diaper. “Well that explains the state of your diaper. You really should get the nurse to change you sometimes you know that?” her mom said. “But then again it’s a good time to give these a try” she said, as she showed Amy the new pack of diapers that she just bought: “Pampers Max: our most absorbent diapers yet for growing kids and teens - designed for whole-day absorbency!” “Since you were pushing your diapers to their limits I went shopping today to see if there was anything better. These are pretty pricy, so I hope you like them!”, she said as she began changing Amy into the new diaper. And as Amy was changed into the new Pampers, she found that she did like them. The Pampers was thicker than her previous diaper and the padding was much softer to her skin. And unlike the rough paper-like exterior that the previous diaper had, her new one had a silky smooth plastic exterior. “Thanks mom, I really like these” she told her mom as she fiddled around with her new diaper. *** Amy was in her room. She’d just finished working on the last of her homework problems for the day, and was now lying on her bed playing with her phone. It’s been five hours since she was changed into the Pampers, and she’d given the diaper a couple of good wettings along the way. Despite that, however, it was no where close to leaking. The white of the diaper has since been replaced with a light yellow at the middle and back, and it was much squishier now, but it was dry inside and Amy was confident that it could absorb a whole lot more pee. Her body, however, had other ideas. She felt a dull ache in her stomach, and she knew what was to come. Although Amy couldn’t control her pee, she could tell when she was about to poop. However, she can’t hold it for very long, so she still uses her diaper to go number two. She went to a corner of her room, right beside her bed, and squat down. A habit she developed from when she was a toddler, Amy would always go to that same place to do her poo. It was her “safe spot”, so to speak. She gave a small push, and felt the soft warm mush slowly expel out of her insides into the seat of the diaper behind her. Along with the poop came a steady stream of pee, that was quickly absorbed into the welcoming diaper. The smell started to waft out of the diaper into the room around her, but Amy wasn’t done yet. There was still a slight twinge in her belly, so she lifted her diapered butt a little and gave another push, pushing another sizeable load into her Pampers. After that second push, the twinge was no more, and she could tell that she was finally done. She stood up and felt that her diaper was saggier and heavier than before, and there was also an obvious bulge at the back containing her mess. Feeling relieved, she lied back on her bed, allowing the poop to squish around her butt, and picked her phone back up to continue where she left off, while enjoying the warm, mushy feeling of the Pampers. *** “Amy, it’s time for din...” Amy’s mom had just finished preparing dinner and had entered her room to tell her, but the lingering smell in the air caught her attention. “Smells like someone’s stinky” she said teasingly to her daughter. “Uh-huh” was her reply. From her lying position, she turned around to her sides, with her back facing towards her mother, her standard position for a poopy diaper check when she was too lazy to get off the bed. The smell made it pretty obvious, but her mom would always make it a point to check anyways. She first placed her hand gently on the back of the diaper and felt the mushy squish, which confirmed her suspicions, then she pulled the waistband of the Pampers back and glanced inside to assess the damage. “Wow, it’s a big one this time. You’ve really soaked it too.” she said as she pulled down Amy’s pants to check for leaks. “But it looks like the Pampers held everything in very well. I guess you really get what you pay for!” Satisfied with the diaper’s stellar performance, she pulled her daughter’s pants back up. “Dinner’s ready, so why don’t we do that first. I’ll change you after that.” Amy was hungry, and she rather enjoyed the comfort that a warm mushy diaper provided, so she was happy to go along. *** Dinner was uneventful, despite there being a girl with a stinky diaper at the dinner table. Everyone in the family had long gotten used to the smell of Amy’s messes, and didn’t mind it much, but would tease her about it from time to time. Once dinner was done with, Amy retreated to her room, while her mom was still cleaning the kitchen and the dishes. She’d been in a poopy diaper for a while now but the diaper remained warm and squishy, thanks in part to another fresh stream of pee that she released while eating dinner a moment ago. This was a feeling that she greatly enjoyed, and she lied on the bed to bask in the comfort of her soiled Pampers diaper. Unfortunately, her comfort was short-lived as her mom entered her room shortly after and began the diaper change routine. Her pants were swiftly taken off and her shirt rolled up slightly, revealing the Pampers that was now swollen and discoloured with a mix of yellow and brown. Next, the tapes were undone and the diaper opened, uncovering the mess that had smeared over much of Amy’s rear and some over the front. After many wipes and a sprinkling of powder, the young girl was once again put in a fresh Pampers diaper. “I really like this diaper, mom.” said Amy at the end of the change. “I’m glad you like it, hon. I’ll put in an order for a case then. Don’t stay up too late!” she said to her daughter, dimming the lights as she left the room. “Thanks! I love you mom!” she replied. She was delighted to know that she’d have more of her new favourite diapers coming in. She picked up her phone and went on Twitter to brag about her new diapers to her followers. Several conversations later, sleepiness took over, and Amy found herself slowly drifting off to sleep... but not before releasing one more stream of warm pee into her comforting diaper. End Endnotes This was something that I wrote on a whim for my own enjoyment. It's a silly and cliche premise but one that I found interesting nevertheless, so please forgive the lack of realism. I haven't had a language class for a very long time, so I'd appreciate feedback on grammatical/formatting errors. I'm sorry if this entire story reads like a Pampers ad. I swear this isn't one. I hope at least some of you enjoyed reading this story as much as I did writing it.

Chapter 1: The castle nursery is a haven of soft pastels: plush cream carpet, a rocking horse carved from pale wood, and a changing table piled high with folded squares of pink fabric, each embroidered with a tiny, gilded tiara. The air is warm, smelling faintly of lavender and fresh powder. Princess Peach sits on the floor, her satin dress pooled around her, her shoulders slumped. She traces a pattern on the floorboards with a single, polished fingernail, her brows knitted together. The weight of her crown, even when not on her head, feels immense today. The council meetings, the diplomatic letters, the endless, gentle guidance required for her people- it presses down on her, a heavy, invisible hand. Mario kneels in front of her, his expression soft and knowing. He wears his usual red shirt and blue overalls, but his posture is relaxed, his arms open. "Hey, Peachie," he says, his voice a low, gentle rumble. "Long day?" She looks up, her blue eyes wide and shimmering. A single tear wells at the corner, tracking a slow path down her cheek. She doesn't answer, just gives a small, almost imperceptible nod. He reaches out and brushes the tear away with his thumb. "It's okay, little sister. Your big brother's here now." He scoops her into his arms as if she weighs nothing, settling her on his lap. She immediately melts against him, burying her face in the familiar warmth of his overalls. The fabric smells of him, of sunshine and adventure and safety. "Do you need to be little for a while?" Her response is a muffled whimper against his chest, followed by a soft, "Mawio..." "That's my girl," he murmurs, rocking her gently. "That's my good girl. Let's get you out of these big girl clothes, huh?" He carries her to the changing table, laying her down on the padded mat. With practiced, gentle hands, he unzips her elaborate gown, carefully lifting her arms to slide it off. He folds it neatly and places it on a nearby chair, followed by her silky tights and royal slippers. Now she's just Peach, shivering slightly in her cotton slip, looking up at him with complete trust. Mario reaches for the stack of diapers. He pulls one free- a thick, soft puff of pink, the plastic shell smooth and cool. In the center, the embroidered tiara gleams a cheerful, bright gold. "Perfect for our little Princess," he says, holding it up for her to see. A small, genuine smile touches her lips. "Pwincess," she babbles, kicking her feet. "Exactly right," Mario agrees, unfolding the diaper with a soft crinkle. He lifts her legs by the ankles, sliding the thick padding under her bottom. The soft fluff encases her, a warm, secure cloud. He pulls the front panel up snugly between her legs, making sure the leak guards are positioned just right before fastening the tapes on either side. The diaper is on, a bulky, pink reminder that she has no responsibilities now. She is small and she is cared for. "There now," he says, patting the front of her diaper gently. "All cozy and safe in your special princess pants." The golden tiara on the front seems to wink in the soft light. "Doesn't that feel better?" Peach wriggles, a happy sigh escaping her. "Buhbuh," she says, her hands coming down to pat the thick padding around her hips. The bulk feels right, a comforting pressure against her skin. Mario laughs, a warm, genuine sound. "That's right. Buhbuh's here." He scoops her up again, the thick diaper rustling with the movement. "What should we play with today, little sis? Blocks? Or maybe read a story?" She points a small finger towards a colorful bin in the corner. "Bwocks!" "Blocks it is!" He carries her over to a large, circular play mat and sets her down in the center. The diaper provides a soft cushion for her bottom as she sits. He dumps the bin over, and a cascade of bright, oversized wooden blocks clatters onto the mat. Peach immediately grabs a blue one, holding it up for him to see. "Bwoo!" "Very blue!" Mario confirms, sitting cross legged opposite her. He picks up a red block. "Red!" They play for a while, a simple game of naming colors and stacking precarious towers. Peach's babble is a constant, happy stream of "buhbuh," "pwincess," and "up!" when she wants him to add another block to their creation. Her movements are clumsy, her focus entirely on the simple task in front of her. The crown, the kingdom, the worries- they're all gone. There is only Mario, the blocks, and the soft, secure feeling of her diaper. They play a few minutes more before Peach's attention wanders. She crawls away from the blocks on her hands and knees, her padded bottom wiggling in the air. She finds her favorite teddy bear, a plush brown one with a red bow tie, and hugs it tight, rocking back and forth on her bottom. Mario watches her, a fond smile on his face. "Having fun with Sir Teddington?" She looks up at him, her eyes shining. "Tedd-uh," she says, patting the bear's head. She then crawls back to him, climbing onto his lap and settling in, her head against his chest. The bulk of the diaper pushes her legs apart, making her sit securely against him. He wraps an arm around her, holding her close. "You're doing so good today, Peachie. So calm." He feels her relax completely in his arms, her breathing soft and even. He keeps rocking her, humming a simple tune. The nursery is peaceful, the only sounds the gentle hum of his voice, the rustle of plastic, and the soft babble of the little girl in his arms. This is their secret. This is their safe space. It's a little while later that Mario notices the small change. On the front of Peach's diaper, peeking out from where it presses against his overalls, the tiny golden tiara has begun to fade. It's no longer a brilliant, sparkling gold. It's slowly, surely, turning a soft, pale pink. He gently pats her back. "Hey, little one. Someone's getting a little pink down there, huh?" Peach wiggles, a soft sigh escaping her lips. She doesn't seem to mind, just snuggles deeper into the warmth of the wet padding. "Pee pee, buhbuh," she whispers, her speech slurry and sleepy. "I know, sis," Mario says softly. "It's okay. Big brother's got you." He continues to hold her and rock her for a few more minutes, letting her enjoy the warmth before the discomfort sets in. When her face starts to scrunch up just a little, he decides it's time. "Alright, little Princess. Let's get you changed into a fresh, dry diaper." He lifts her, carrying her back to the changing table. She lies placidly while he works, her eyes half closed. With gentle, efficient movements, he unfastens the tapes, the pink tiara now a vivid reminder of its use. He cleans her with warm, damp wipes, the scent of baby powder filling the air again. The wet diaper is bundled up and disposed of, and a fresh, dry, pink one is secured around her hips. The tiara on this one is a brilliant, shiny gold once more. "There we go," Mario says, patting the fresh diaper. "All clean and dry for my baby sister." He dresses her in a simple, soft pink onesie, the snaps at the crotch fastening easily over the bulk of her new diaper. Peach coos happily, kicking her feet. She looks completely content, her earlier stress a distant memory. After her diaper change, Mario's stomach rumbles. "Time for a snack, I think! What does my little Princess want to eat?" "Appy!" she says instantly, her face lighting up. "Appy sauce!" "Apple sauce it is," Mario chuckles. He gets her settled into a large, wooden high chair, strapping her in securely. The tray clicks into place in front of her. He returns a moment later with a small bowl of warm, smooth apple sauce and a soft tipped baby spoon. "Open wide for the airplane!" he says, scooting a spoonful towards her face. She opens her mouth obediently, her eyes focused on the spoon. The apple sauce is sweet and familiar. "Mmm," she hums, swallowing it down. "Mawio, more!" "You got it, Peachie." He feeds her another spoonful, and another, making airplane and train noises as he does. She giggles, her happy babbling mixing with the sounds of her eating. A little bit of sauce smears on her cheek, but Mario just wipes it away with a smile. By the end of the snack, her belly is full and she's starting to look sleepy again. He wipes her face and hands clean, then unstraps her from the high chair. He carries her over to the rocking chair by the window, sitting down with her cradled in his arms. He's not sure if she's fallen asleep or is just drowsy and content when he feels it. A sudden tension in her little body, her legs straightening out against him. Her head, which had been lolling sleepily against his shoulder, lifts. Her babbling, which had faded to happy murmurs, ceases entirely. He glances down. Her brow is furrowed in concentration, her bottom lip pushed out in a slight pout. Her hands, which had been clutching his overalls, are now fisted, pressing firmly against her own tummy. A soft, low whine escapes her, a sound of pure discomfort. "What is it, little one?" Mario asks softly, his rocking slowing to a gentle sway. He rubs a soothing circle on her back, right between her shoulder blades. She squirms in his arms, a restless, wriggling movement that is different from her earlier happy wiggles. Her heels dig into the soft cushion of the rocking chair. Her thighs are pressed as tightly together as she can manage with the thick padding of the diaper. Her feet are crossed at the ankles, her little toes curling inward. The subtle tell tale signs of a little one trying desperately to hold something in. "Oh, I see," he says, his voice a gentle balm. "I see what's happening, Peachie. Does my little sister need to go potty?" Her face scrunches up, and she gives a frantic, desperate nod. Her eyes are wide and pleading, fixed on his face. "Mawio," she whispers, the word catching in her throat. "Pee pee. Pee pee coming." "I know," he says, his hand moving from her back to her hair, stroking the soft, golden strands. "It's okay. You're okay. Just try to relax, sis. Let it happen. That's what your diaper is for." But she can't. The regression has taken away her control, her understanding. The sensation is overwhelming and frightening to her small mind. She only knows the desperate pressure and the instinct to hold it, to wait. She lets out a frustrated cry, a sharp, unhappy sound. "No, no, no," she sobs, her face turning against his chest. "No pee pee!" "Hey, shhh, shhh, it's alright," Mario soothes, shifting her in his arms so he can look at her better. "It's not your fault, little Princess. You don't have to hold it for your big brother. Let go, Peachie. Let it all go. I'll clean you up, I promise. It's okay." He continues to murmur reassurances, rocking her gently, one hand rubbing her back, the other stroking her hair. He can feel the fine trembling in her limbs. He waits patiently, a steady, solid presence against her distress. The fight is a small one, but it's all she can focus on. Then, with a final, shuddering sob, her body goes limp. She gives up the fight. Mario feels a sudden, blooming warmth spread against him. A soft, relieved sigh escapes Peach's lips. Her body uncoils completely, all the tension draining away. She looks up at him, her eyes heavy lidded, a little bit dazed. "There you go," Mario says, kissing her forehead. "That's my good girl. See? All better now." He pats the front of her onesie, feeling the distinct squish of a thoroughly soaked diaper beneath the fabric. "Wow, someone was holding a lot of pee pee for their brubber!" A small, sleepy giggle escapes her. "Bwubber," she whispers, snuggling back into him, completely unbothered by the warm, wet padding she now sits in. The crisis is over. She is safe, and she is wet, and she is deeply, profoundly sleepy in her big brother's arms. The rocking chair continues its slow, steady creak, a gentle rhythm in the quiet room. The warmth spreading through her diaper is a familiar comfort, a final surrender of control that allows sleep to finally claim her. Her head is a heavy, trusting weight on Mario's shoulder. Her breathing evens out into the deep, soft rhythm of a baby asleep. Mario holds her for a long while, just listening to her breathe. He can feel the damp warmth through her onesie against his arm, a tangible sign of the peace he's just helped her find. He knows he should change her soon, to prevent any rash, but he lets her sleep. This fragile peace is precious. He'll let her have it for just a few more minutes. The afternoon sun begins to dip lower, casting long, golden rectangles across the nursery floor. The dust motes dance in the slanted light like tiny fairies. After about ten minutes, Mario decides he can't put it off any longer. A sleeping baby in a wet diaper is a recipe for a grumpy baby later. "Alright, little Princess," he murmurs against her hair. "Time to get you into a cozy, dry diaper for your nap." He shifts her weight, standing up from the rocking chair with a soft grunt. She stirs, letting out a small, discontented murmur, but doesn't wake. He carries her to the changing table for the second time that afternoon, her sleeping form a dead weight in his arms. He lays her down gently, her body limp with sleep. The tiara on her diaper is now a deep, dark pink, the plastic shell stretched tight with the sheer volume it contains. He works quietly and efficiently, unsnapping the crotch of her onesie. The scent of urine becomes more pronounced as he frees the diaper. He unfastens the tapes, one by one, and pulls the front of the diaper down. The inner lining is heavy and swollen, glistening in the soft light. He uses more wipes this time, making sure she's completely clean and dry before patting her skin with a light dusting of powder. The cool powder against her skin causes her to stir, her legs kicking out in her sleep. He just smiles, working around her sleepy movements. A third clean, pink diaper is secured around her waist, its golden tiara bright and new. He leaves her in just the diaper, deciding the extra clothes are unnecessary for a nap, and lifts her from the changing table and carries her to the large crib in the corner. He lowers her gently into the soft, padded mattress, tucking a light pink blanket around her small form. "Sleep well, my Peachie," he whispers, leaning over the crib railing. "Sleep well, little sister. I'll be right here when you wake up." He stands there for a moment longer, watching her chest rise and fall, the rhythmic proof of her peaceful slumber. Then, he turns and quietly leaves the nursery, closing the door almost all the way, leaving just a sliver of light to fall across the sleeping baby princess in her crib. The door to the nursery clicks shut, leaving the room in a cocoon of soft silence. Mario stands in the hallway for a moment, the scent of baby powder still clinging to his clothes. He can hear the faint, even breathing from within the crib, a sound more calming than any lullaby. His job, for now, is done. He has guided his princess back to a place of peace. He pads down the grand, echoing corridors of the castle, his usual buoyant walk replaced by a quiet tread. The castle feels different when he's in this caretaker role. The grand halls aren't just a setting for adventure; they're the shell that protects the most precious thing in the kingdom, and right now, that precious thing is a little girl in a pink diaper, dreaming in a crib. He heads to the kitchen, a cheerful, bustling place even in the afternoon. A few Toads are busy polishing silverware and preparing the evening meal. They nod to him respectfully. "Mr. Mario," one chirps, "Princess Peach is in her council meeting, I presume?" Mario offers a small, private smile. "She's resting. A very long council meeting," he adds, using their well known code for one of Peach's regression sessions. The Toads, who are more astute than anyone gives them credit for, simply nod and go back to their work. The secret is safe with them all. Mario gets himself a glass of water and leans against a counter, sipping it slowly. He thinks about the afternoon: the initial tension in her shoulders, the slow bloom of trust as he changed her, the simple joy of playing with blocks, and finally, the sweet, sleepy surrender, and he feels a deep, profound warmth in his chest that has nothing to do with adventure or heroism. This is a different kind of saving. He finishes his water and decides to check on the laundry. He finds the two used diapers he'd disposed of, wrapped tightly in their own plastic bag, waiting to be taken to the special laundry chute. The tiaras on both are a distinct shade of dark pink. He ties the bag up and drops it down the chute, listening to it clatter and slide down to the laundry room below. A small, domestic task that feels immensely important. He's about to head to the library to read for a while when he hears a soft cry from down the hall. It's not distressed, not yet. It's the sound of someone waking up alone, a little confused. He abandons the library and heads straight back to the nursery, peeking through the crack in the door. Peach is sitting up in her crib, her blonde hair a fluffy halo around her head. She's rubbing her eyes with her fists, her blanket pooled around her waist. She's wearing nothing but her thick, clean diaper. Her bottom lip is trembling slightly. She lets out another soft, whimpering cry. "Mawio?" she calls out, her voice small and lost. "Buhbuh?" Mario pushes the door open. "I'm right here, little sis," he says softly, crossing the room to the crib. "Your big brother's right here." Her face, which had been scrunched in confusion, breaks into a wide, tearful smile. "Bwubber!" she exclaims, her arms reaching for him. He leans over the railing, scooping her up and hoisting her onto his hip. She immediately burrows into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He bounces her gently, patting her back. "Did you have a good nap, Peachie?" She nods against his shoulder. "Appy," she mumbles. "I'm glad." He carries her over to the rocking chair, sitting down with her in his lap. She's still a little sleepy, her body soft and pliant against him. He holds her for a few minutes, just letting her reorient herself. After a bit, she starts to stir, her head lifting. She looks around the room, her gaze landing on the colorful play mat. "Bwocks," she says, her voice a little more awake now. "You want to play with the blocks again?" Mario asks. "Yeah! Bwocks!" she says, her enthusiasm returning. She starts to wiggle, trying to slide off his lap. "Alright, alright," he chuckles, setting her down on the playmat. She immediately crawls over to the wooden blocks, her padded bottom crinkling softly as she moves. Mario sits on the floor with her, leaning back against the leg of the rocking chair. He watches as she starts to build a new tower, her concentration absolute. She carefully stacks the blocks, her tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth. She's a meticulous little architect, and Mario is a captivated audience. Peach chatters away in her baby talk, narrating her building process with soft babbles and happy squeaks. Mario responds with encouraging words and gentle smiles. Then, her movements become a bit more frantic. She's trying to place a yellow block on top of a red one, but her hands are shaky. The tower wobbles precariously. She grunts with effort, her face turning red. But it's not just the tower that's making her strain. Mario notices it again. The subtle tensing of her body. The way her legs, which had been casually splayed, suddenly press together. Her babbling stops, replaced by a series of soft, grunting whimpers. She drops the yellow block, her hands flying to her tummy. "Uh oh," she whispers, her eyes wide with a familiar panic. "Uh oh, Mawio." "What is it, sweetie?" he asks, moving closer to her. "I... I..." she stammers, her face scrunching up. "Tummy owie." The words are small and scared. For a baby, this is a much bigger, more intimate thing. The feeling is different, more intense and demanding. She looks at him with utter terror, her body frozen in a sudden, rigid stillness. Mario's voice is a calm, steady anchor in the storm of her fear. "It's okay, Peachie. It's okay. Just like with the pee pee. You can let it go. Your big brother is right here. I'll take care of you." He reaches out and rubs her back in slow, soothing circles. "You don't have to be scared. It's a perfectly normal thing to do. You're just a baby. Babies make messes. It's what they do." His words seem to penetrate her panic. She looks at him, her bottom lip trembling. She's still holding on, her whole body rigid with the effort. "That's my girl," he says softly. "Just try to relax. Push a little bit if you have to. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." He keeps rubbing her back, his touch a constant, reassuring presence. He can feel the fight in her, the struggle between her body's need and her mind's fear. He waits patiently, a silent, strong support system. Then, with a final, shuddering cry, her body pushes forward. Mario can feel the subtle shift in her padding, the way it swells and grows heavier. Her face, which had been scrunched in fear, relaxes into a look of pure relief. "There you go," he says, his voice filled with pride. "That's my brave little Princess. You did it. You were so brave." He scoops her up, the messy diaper warm and heavy against his arm. She's limp in his arms, her head lolling against his shoulder. She's not crying, just breathing heavily, her body exhausted from the effort. "Let's get you all cleaned up," he says, carrying her to the changing table. "And then we can play some more." Mario's hands are a blur of gentle efficiency. The messy diaper is whisked away, replaced by the warm, soft scent of wipes and powder. A few moments later, she's snug, clean, and sealed into a fresh, dry diaper, the golden tiara on its front gleaming like new. He pulls a soft, fuzzy sleeper over her, the pink fabric zipping up to her chin, the crotch snaps popping easily over the thick padding. "There we go," he whispers, kissing her nose. "All cozy for my best girl." He carries her not to the rocking chair, but to the large, open space on the carpet. He lies down on his back, propping his head up on a pillow. "I have a secret," he says in a conspiratorial whisper. Peach's eyes, which had been drooping, snap open. "Sekwet?" she asks, her curiosity piqued. "Yup. Your big brother is a..." He pauses for dramatic effect, then brings his hands up and wiggles his fingers. "...a tickle monster!" Her eyes go wide with a mixture of fear and delight. "No!" she shrieks, a grin already spreading across her face. "No monster!" "Raaargh!" Mario growls playfully, lunging for her. She squeals and tries to scramble away on her hands and knees, the thick diaper between her legs making her crawl wobbly and slow. He catches her easily, flipping her onto her back and gently attacking her tummy. His fingers dance over her fuzzy sleeper, finding the spots that make her giggle the most. She thrashes on the carpet, her laughter bubbling up like a fountain, uncontrollable and pure. "Stop! Stop, buhbuh!" she gasps, her words lost in peals of laughter. "The tickle monster never stops!" he declares, moving to her ribs, then to her feet, which he frees from the sleeper's booties. Her tiny toes curl as he tickles the sensitive arches of her feet. "Bwubber, pwease!" she begs, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining with tears of joy. "Tummy owie!" "Alright, alright," he relents, collapsing back onto the pillow beside her. "The monster is tired. All out of tickles." She lies there panting for a moment, a huge, happy smile on her face. Then she rolls over, propping her chin on her hands and looking at him. "Mawio silly," she says, her voice soft and fond. "Only for you, Peachie," he says, reaching out to smooth her messy blonde hair. "Only for my little sister." She snuggles close, resting her head on his chest. The soft sleeper rustles. "Wuv you, brubber." Mario's heart swells. He wraps an arm around her, holding her tight. "I love you too, little Princess. More than all the stars in the sky." They lie there for a long while, just breathing together, the stress of the day a distant, forgotten thing. Chapter 2: The afternoon sun slants through the nursery window, painting stripes of warm gold across the plush carpet. Peach is fast asleep in her crib, a small, pink lump under a light blanket. She’s been down for her nap for over an hour, her breathing soft and even. Around her hips, the diaper is warm and heavy, the tiny golden tiara on its front having faded to a deep pink some time ago. She’s lost in dreamless baby sleep, a world away from crowns and treaties. A sudden, violent crash shatters the peace. The stained glass window of the nursery explodes inwards, a rain of colorful shards and stone dust. A spiky shelled figure lands with a heavy thud on the carpet, his impact making the floorboards groan. Bowser straightens up, a triumphant grin on his face. "Peach!" he bellows, his voice a deafening roar in the serene room. "You're coming with me!" Peach startles awake with a terrified shriek. Her eyes fly open, wide and confused. The world is loud, scary, and full of broken glass. She doesn't see the King of the Koopas; she just sees a big, loud monster. "AAAAH!" she wails, pulling the blanket up over her head. "Mawio! Mawio, monster!" Bowser blinks, nonplussed. This isn't the usual defiant speech he gets. He stomps closer to the crib, his brow furrowed. The wailing continues from under the blanket. He reaches down, hooks a massive claw under the covers, and pulls them back. He finds the Princess of the Mushroom Kingdom, but not as he's ever seen her. She's in a fuzzy pink sleeper, her face red and tear streaked, her bottom lip trembling. "Hey! Why are you crying? And why are you dressed like that?" he grumbles, reaching into the crib. He doesn't waste any more time. He simply scoops her up, sleeper and all, tucking her unceremoniously under one arm like a football. The sudden movement and the pressure on her full bladder make her cry even harder. "No! No! Pwease! Wet! All wet!" she sobs, her babbling lost to him. "Yeah, yeah, ," Bowser says dismissively, not understanding. "C'mon, we're going on a little trip." He turns and leaps back out the window, his Clown Car hovering just outside. The ascent is bumpy and terrifying, jostling Peach in his grip. She cries all the way back to his castle. He finally lands in the throne room of his fortress, a cavernous space of dark stone and burning lava pools. He drops Peach onto the hard, cold floor, and she lands with a soft poof, the padding of her diaper cushioning her fall. She immediately tries to scramble away on all fours, her movements clumsy and babyish. Bowser puts his hands on his hips, glaring down at her. "Alright, what is your deal, Peach? You're not screaming orders at me. You're not trying to escape. You're just...crawling around and crying. Are you sick?" Peach stops her crawling and looks up at him, her big blue eyes full of tears. She pushes herself into a sitting position, her legs splayed wide by the bulky diaper. "Up," she says, her voice a small, pathetic whimper. "Hold me. Pwease?" Bowser stares at her, utterly bewildered. "Hold you? What for? You're my prisoner!" Her face crumples, and a fresh wave of tears begins. "Wan' buhbuh," she sobs, hugging her knees to her chest. "Wan' Mawio." "Buhbuh? Mawio? What are you talking about?" Bowser grumbles, pacing back and forth. The constant sobbing is starting to grate on his nerves. "Oh, for crying out loud, fine!" He leans down and awkwardly picks her up, holding her out at arm's length as if she's something unpleasant. "There. You're 'up'. Now stop that racket!" Being held, even awkwardly, is a comfort. Peach immediately clings to him, her small hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair. She buries her face in the rough scales of his chest. "Tank, Bowsy," she mumbles into him. "Bowsy?!" Bowser recoils slightly. "Nobody calls me Bowsy!" He tries to set her down, but she just clings tighter, her body trembling. He sighs, a puff of smoke escaping his nostrils. This is not how kidnappings are supposed to go. He sits down heavily on his stone throne, the exhausted captive still clinging to him like a barnacle. "Okay, fine. But if you try any funny business..." She doesn't, she just snuggles closer, her crying finally subsiding into quiet hiccups. After a few minutes of tense silence, she starts to wiggle. Her brow furrows, and she lets out a soft, uncomfortable whimper. She shifts her weight, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the sodden, cold diaper squishes against her skin. It's no longer a comforting warmth, just a miserable, clammy bulk. "Ugh," she whines, patting the front of her sleeper. "Owie. Owie diapy." Bowser looks down. "What now? Did I sit on you?" He pokes her gently in the belly. She shakes her head, pushing at her padded bottom. "Wet," she says, her voice clear and insistent. "Bowsy, change pwease?" "Change? Change what? Your clothes?" Bowser is completely lost, until it occurs to him what looks so off about her sleeper, the way it sags right around…and then, there’s a certain smell to her that he’s been trying to ignore/ Along with her strange, infantile behaviors, Peach is wearing a diaper, and demanding he change it. Bowser can see no universe where trying that turns out well for him. "You're fine. Just...sit still." The discomfort grows. She tries to pull at the zipper of her sleeper. "Owie!" she says again, her frustration mounting. "All wet! Change!" He sets her down on the floor with a thump. "Go...play or something. Just leave me alone," he growls, turning away from her. Peach, undeterred, sees the vast throne room as a new playground. She crawls over to a pile of gold coins Mario had left behind during a previous visit. She picks one up, her eyes wide with delight. "Shiny!" she squeals, putting it in her mouth. "No!" Bowser roars, spinning around. He rushes over and snatches the coin from her. "Don't eat the money! That's the kingdom's budget!" Peach just giggles at the sudden attention, her earlier discomfort momentarily forgotten. She starts crawling again, this time towards a long, red banner hanging from the wall. She stands up, holding onto the fabric, and begins to bounce on her feet. "Boing, boing, boing!" she chants. Bowser watches, completely flummoxed. This is... exhausting. He just sits on his throne, rubbing his temples, as the baby princess explores his evil domain, a place of doom and lava, as if it's a soft playroom. Her attention is eventually caught by a pair of Chain Chomps sleeping in a corner. "Doggies!" she squeals, toddling towards them. "No, no, those are not doggies!" Bowser bellows, leaping from his throne and grabbing her just before she can pat one on the head. "Those bite!" He carries her back to the center of the room, his patience completely gone. "Alright, that's it. You stay here." But her discomfort returns with a vengeance. The soggy diaper is making her miserable, and her bladder is demanding her attention. She squirms, her hands pressed firmly against her crotch. "Bowsy," she whines, tugging on his leg. "Pee pee coming. Need potty." He just stares down at her. "So go! I'm not stopping you. I don't know why you're acting like this, I don't know why you're wearing a diaper, but just use it, I don't care." Her face crumples in confusion. She doesn't understand. She knows she's supposed to go in her diaper, but it's already so wet and uncomfortable. She starts to dance from foot to foot, her desperation growing. "No! Too wet! Too full!" "I am not touching that!" Bowser declares, taking a step back. "You got yourself into this mess, you get yourself out!" She can't hold it anymore. The pressure is too much. With a sob of pure misery, her body gives in. A sudden warmth spreads into the already saturated diaper, but it's too much. The padding, long past its capacity, can't hold another drop. A dark patch begins to spread across the front of her fuzzy pink sleeper. A small trickle escapes from a leg cuff, dripping onto the stone floor and forming a tiny puddle, as her overfull diaper leaks. Peach looks down at the dark wetness on her clothes and the puddle at her feet, her face a mask of horror and shame. She bursts into tears, loud and heartbroken. "Mess! I made mess! Bowsy, I'm sowwy!" she wails, her small body shaking with sobs. Bowser just stares. At the crying baby, at the puddle on the floor, at the ridiculous pink sleeper now soaked all the way through. He looks at the ceiling as if begging for divine intervention. This is a nightmare. "Oh, for the love of..." he grumbles, but something in her desperate, apologetic sobbing gets to him. With a frustrated sigh that sounds like a volcano about to erupt, he stomps over to her. He picks her up, holding her at arm's length to avoid the wet spots. "Stop crying! I'll...I'll do something!" He looks around desperately, then grabs a nearby banner. He lays it out on the floor and places her on it. "Okay, stay there." He then rummages through a chest, finally pulling out a rough, dry towel. There's absolutely no way he's taking her clothes off, so he does the next best thing. He wraps the towel around her waist, over the top of her soaked sleeper, like a makeshift skirt. "There! Now you're...less leaky." Peach looks down at the towel, then up at him. The crying stops, replaced by a hiccup. She reaches out a small hand and pats his massive arm. "Bowsy funny," she sniffles, a tiny giggle escaping her. Bowser just groans. But the crying has stopped. And now, she's looking at him with wide, curious eyes. She points a tiny finger at the spikes on his shell. "Shiny pokies." He sighs, sitting down on the floor, defeated. "Yeah, those are my spikes. Don't touch them." Peach doesn't listen. She crawls over and gently pokes one of the spikes on his back. "Boop," she says. He flinches, but doesn't pull away. "Hey!" She giggles and boops another one. "Boop, boop, boop!" It's a new game. He's a giant, spiky, boopable mountain, and she's a tiny explorer. Bowser finds himself letting it happen. He lets the little princess crawl all over him, booping his spikes, tugging on his hair, and giggling when he growls. He's exhausted, utterly confused, but a tiny part of him is...enjoying it? It's certainly less stressful than fighting Mario. He's actually sitting still, and she's not screaming anymore. It's a win, of a very, very weird kind. They're in the middle of a very serious game of "Boop the Spike" when a familiar heroic cry echoes through the throne room. Mario, having seen the shattered nursery window, burst in with fists raised and a furious scowl. But he stops dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping. The scene before him is not one of a damsel in distress. It's Bowser, the Koopa King, sitting on the floor of his own throne room looking utterly exhausted. And Princess Peach, in a soaking wet sleeper with a towel tied around her waist, is perched on Bowser's back, gleefully booping him on the head while babbling, "Bowsy sleepy! Bowsy pokie mountain!" Bowser looks up, a wave of relief washing over his face. "Mario! Thank the stars. Please, just take her. I don't know what's wrong with her, she's leaking, she won't stop calling me Bowsy, and she tried to pet a Chain Chomp!" The sight of her boyfriend, her hero, her big brother, is like a switch being flipped deep inside Peach's mind. The baby fog, the comforting regression, evaporates in an instant, replaced by the chilling, crystal clear horror of adulthood. The booping stops. Her eyes go wide. She looks at her hands, then at her own outfit- the pink sleeper, the dark wet patch, the ridiculous towel skirt. She looks at Bowser, who she was just playing with. She looks at Mario, who is staring at her with a mixture of concern and utter bewilderment. And then the embarrassment hits. A tidal wave of it, so powerful and absolute it makes her want to melt into the floor and become one with the lava pools. "M-Mario..." she stammers, her adult voice returning, though it's shaky and thin. She scrambles off Bowser's back, her movements clumsy with the bulky diaper. She's standing before her rescuer in the most humiliating state imaginable, a literal puddle of her own making still drying on the floor of her kidnapper's castle. Mario's expression softens instantly. He sees the panic and shame in her eyes, and all the confusion about the scene melts away, replaced by a fierce, protective instinct. He strides across the room, not even glancing at Bowser. He shrugs off his coat and gently wraps it around her, hiding the soaked sleeper and makeshift towel. "It's okay, Peachie," he says, his voice low and gentle, for her ears only. "I'm here now. It's okay." She bursts into tears again, but these are not the tears of a frustrated baby. They are the hot, mortified tears of a grown woman whose most secret, most vulnerable coping mechanism has just been exposed to her mortal enemy. Mario scoops her into his arms, holding her tight. He glares over her head at Bowser. "Bowser. You've got some nerve." Bowser throws his hands up in surrender, looking utterly drained. "I didn't do anything! I just wanted to kidnap her like normal! She's the one who's all... like that!" Mario just shakes his head, adjusting his hold on the trembling princess. "I'm taking her home. And you...you stay out of it." "Fine by me!" Bowser bellows, slumping back onto his throne. "But she needs a change! And a nap! She's been a menace!" ~X~ Back in the safety of her nursery, the chaos of Bowser's invasion already cleaned up by the Toads, Mario gently sets her down on the changing table. He removes the sodden sleeper and the towel, tossing them into a laundry basket. He works in silence, cleaning her up with gentle, efficient hands. The diaper change is a return to normalcy, a familiar ritual that slowly begins to soothe her frayed nerves. "It's all over now, Peachie," he says, his voice a soft murmur. "The mean, spiky monster is gone. You're safe with me. You're safe with your big brother." He applies a generous layer of soothing cream to her skin, which is red and irritated from being in a wet diaper for so long. He knows how uncomfortable it must be, and he takes extra care, making sure she's completely clean and dry. He then sprinkles on some powder, the soft scent filling the air, and secures a fresh, clean diaper around her waist. The new padding is soft and comforting, a stark contrast to the clammy, overused one she had been wearing. "There," he says, snapping the crotch of a clean, dry sleeper. "All cozy again. My poor little Princess. What a rough day you've had." He lifts her into his arms, and she immediately burrows into him, her body still trembling slightly. He carries her to the rocking chair, sitting down and holding her close. He begins to rock, the gentle motion a familiar comfort. He can feel the tension in her body, the lingering shame and embarrassment that is too big for her adult mind to process, let alone her little one. He knows he needs to help her find her way back to the safety of little space, where the world is simple and her worries are small. "It's okay, sweet girl," he says, his voice a low, steady hum against her ear. "All that scary stuff is over. You're home now. You're with me." He starts to sing, a soft, simple lullaby about stars and moonbeams. The melody is a familiar one, a tune he's sung to her a hundred times. He feels her body begin to relax, the tension slowly draining away. She snuggles closer, her breathing evening out. "That's my Peachie," he whispers, his lips brushing against her hair. "My sweet, brave little Princess. You were so, so brave. Your big brother is so proud of you." He continues to rock and sing, the words and the motion weaving a spell of calm around her. The memories of the day- the fear, the confusion, the embarrassment- begin to fade, replaced by the warm, secure feeling of being held and loved. She can feel the soft padding of her clean diaper, the gentle rocking of the chair, the steady beat of Mario's heart against her ear. All the right pieces are falling into place. After a few more minutes, he feels her stir. She lifts her head, her eyes no longer wide with panic, but soft and sleepy. "Bwubber?" she murmurs, her voice a small, sleepy whisper. "I'm right here, Peachie," he says, smiling down at her. "Hungy," she says, her little tummy rumbling. "Okay, let's get you a snack," he says, standing up and carrying her to the play mat. Mario sits her down, her padded bottom crinkling softly as she lands. He goes to the small fridge in the corner and pulls out a bottle of milk that he warms for her. He comes back and sits down on the floor with her, leaning against the leg of the rocking chair. He cradles her in his arms, holding the bottle to her lips. She drinks greedily, her eyes half closed in contentment. The warm milk fills her tummy, a soothing warmth that spreads through her body. She finishes the bottle quickly, her little body relaxing completely. He sets the empty bottle aside and just holds her for a moment, letting the food settle. "All full?" he asks. She nods, a milky burp escaping her lips. He pats her back gently, and she burps again, a big, satisfying one. She giggles, her whole body wiggling with delight. "Good girl," he says, smiling. "Now, what should we play with?" He gestures to the toys scattered around the play mat. "Blocks? Or maybe your dolls?" Peach's eyes scan the room, her gaze landing on the pile of wooden blocks. "Bwocks," she says, her voice a happy little chirp. "Blocks it is," he says, setting her down on the play mat. She immediately crawls over to the blocks, her movements still a little clumsy but full of purpose. She starts to build a tower, her concentration absolute. Mario sits with her, handing her blocks when she needs them, and offering words of encouragement. As they play, her mind drifts back to the day's events. But the fear and shame are gone, replaced by a strange, fuzzy memory of the big, spiky monster. She remembers being scared, but she also remembers being held. She remembers the funny, frustrated look on his face, the way he let her boop his spikes, the way he wrapped a towel around her when she leaked. A small smile plays on her lips. "Peachie thinking hard over there," Mario says, noticing her faraway look. "What's on your mind, sweetie?" She looks up at him, her blue eyes wide and clear. "Bowsy," she says, her voice a little dreamy."Big Buhbuh Bowsy." Mario's brow furrows slightly. "Big Brother Bowser?" She nods, her face serious. "Funny Bowsy. Pokie mountain." A slow smile spreads across Mario's face. He understands. In her own simple, baby way, she'd processed the confusing events of the day and found a way to make them okay. She'd turned her kidnapper into a playmate, a big, spiky, grumpy brother. It's a testament to her incredible resilience, her ability to find light in the darkest of places. "Yeah," he says, his voice soft. "He's a big, funny Buhbuh, isn't he? With all his shiny pokies." She giggles, the sound like tiny bells. "Like Bowsy," she says, her voice firm. "Okay," he says, ruffling her hair. "If you like him, then I guess he can't be all bad." He's relieved, honestly. He was worried the experience would traumatize her, but instead, she's found a way to make it a funny, weird memory. It makes him love her even more. They continue to play, the afternoon sun slowly dipping towards the horizon. They build a magnificent tower, a wobbly creation of wood and imagination that reaches all the way to Peach's waist when she stands. She claps her hands with delight, her face shining with pride. "Tall! Bwubber, tall!" "It's the tallest tower in the whole Mushroom Kingdom," Mario declares, playing along. "All thanks to my little architect." She beams at him, her love for him shining in her eyes. They play until the last rays of sun fade from the window, and the room is bathed in the soft, golden light of the lamp on the nightstand. He can see her eyelids starting to droop, her movements becoming slower and more deliberate. She's getting tired. "Alright, little one," he says, scooping her up. "Time for bed." She doesn't protest. She just snuggles into him, her head resting on his shoulder. He carries her to the crib, laying her down gently. He pulls the blanket up to her chin, tucking her in. He leans down and kisses her forehead. "Goodnight, my sweet Peachie," he whispers. "Sleep tight." "Nigh, nigh, Bwubber," she murmurs, her eyes already closed. "Love Bowsy." He smiles, a wave of warmth washing over him. "I know you do, sweetie. I know you do." He stays for a moment, watching her sleep, her chest rising and falling with each even breath. She's safe, she's happy, and she's home. Everything is right in the world again. He quietly leaves the room, closing the door softly behind him, leaving the little Princess to dream of pokie mountains and big, funny Buhbuhs. - If you're interested in my writing updates, please join my discord server! https://discord.gg/xUrPXDH (18+ ONLY) I stream here, and the chat is locked when there isn't a stream going on, so for the most part, it's only posts that are updates from me Or, follow me on twitter @ZappGuatiche/bsky @ZappOBrien!

Unlike my other works where I'd say all the important choices were done by me while still using AI to a large degree, this one is not. It's like 80% generated, done via the far more common "prompt then edit" style. I did do a reasonable amount of editing both after the fact and with intrusive mid-generation editing, but much less of the latter than my previous workflow (which also means that I had much less creative control, acting more as an editor and director instead of as a close collaborator). It ended up better than I had been expecting, though, and I thought it was worth sharing. Most of the writing credit goes to the Gemma 3 Instruct 27B model. The Long Ride Sitting in the car, her floral print dress was resting on legs forced to spread ever so slightly further apart than usual. Ten-year-old Lily was reading a book, ignoring the blurry green landscape rushing by. Beside her, eight-year-old Leo was engrossed in his tablet, a small, contented smile on his lips as he played his game. She was jealous, because he was free. Free from the bulky, humiliating weight she felt beneath her dress. It wasn't new. The family didn't go on long car rides frequently, but when they did it always happened. Her parents, despite her years of being potty-trained, insisted on a diaper. A “just in case” precaution. Leo had previously joined in her suffering, but this trip was different. This morning at breakfast, the announcement had been made. “Leo,” her mom had said, beaming, “you've been doing so well these past several trips. We trust you to hold it until we stop. No diaper needed!” Lily's cereal tasted like ash. She'd braced for the inevitable teasing, differing only in that for the first time it would be coming before the trip had even started. But it hadn't come at all. Leo had just… accepted it. A flicker of emotion crossed his face, maybe disappointment, maybe nothing but a fleeting thought. Then he'd nodded and gone back to his toast with no more said than a simple “Okay”. Twenty minutes into the drive, she had released a small trickle of pee. Not because she needed to, no. But the diaper was there: a soft, absorbent prison. Holding her bladder was never comfortable, a constant nagging that didn't let up until she dealt with its source. And when she tried, her parents would get annoyed because she had asked for yet another potty break. And often, once it became impossible for her to wait any longer, all that would prove to have been for naught. So this time, why not just… preemptively relieve the pressure? Having concluded that her logic was sound and she was making the right choice, she went. It was warm and shameful in the moment, but seconds later and it was like nothing had happened. She felt dry. No rude jokes from her brother, no complaints from her parents. Nobody else had noticed at all. Another hour, and the urge had both returned and was immediately answered. This time there was more. While she sat there, letting it happen, she found the sensation strangely… comforting, in a horrible way. The diaper swelled, absorbing the warmth, the plastic crinkling softly as it expanded. It was a weird thing, realizing that she really could pee anytime without any consequences. She still hated her diaper, the loss of her dignity, the childishness of it all, but it was also… easy. Convenient. Now, two hours in, and a different kind of pressure was building. Lower, heavier. This time, she needed to poop. She put her book down. “Mom?” she asked, her voice small. “Can we stop? I need to go to the bathroom.” Her mom glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “We're stopping in about an hour, honey. Try to hold it if you can, but it's okay if you need to use your diaper, that's what it's there for.” The casual dismissal stung. “You know, it's good that we prepared, so you don't have to worry if you can't make it.” Lily sank back into her seat, clenching her jaw. Fine. She would hold it. She had to. The thought of the mess, the smell, the inevitable lecture… it was unbearable. She could do this, she just had to focus. Five minutes stretched into ten. The pressure intensified, a growing ache in her abdomen. The urge was overwhelming now, a desperate, insistent plea from her body. “Mom?” she tried again, her voice trembling. “I really need to go. Can we please stop?” Her dad sighed. “Lily, we already told you, we're not stopping for a long while. You have a diaper on for a reason, use it.” The words were like a punch to the gut. “But…” she started, then trailed off, defeated. She didn't want to use her diaper for that. They hadn't ever made her do it before. She wanted to be normal, to poop into a real toilet instead of the one she was wearing. But her wish had been denied, and she had to accept that. She could've held it for another few minutes, maybe, but what was the point? There was no way she could hold it for the better part of an hour. Even though she knew that she had no real choice, though, it was surprisingly hard to start. She tried to relax, to let go. She found herself once again peeing into her diaper, but this time it didn't stop there. A wave of pressure built up, and she started pushing. It came slowly at first, a warm, soft mass, then a rush of it. It filled the seat of the diaper, heavy and bulky. She pushed again, and again, until she was completely empty, her body limp with exhaustion. She felt... numb. Disgust washed over her, but underneath that, a strange relief. The pressure was gone. But the relief was short-lived. The smell started subtly, a faint, unpleasant odor that continually grew stronger. She buried her face in her hands, tears welling up. Then, a hand touched her arm. Leo. He didn't say anything, just squeezed her hand gently. He looked at her with a quiet understanding, his tablet forgotten in his lap. He didn't smirk or tease. He just… acknowledged her distress. “It's okay,” he murmured, barely audible. Then, he turned back to his game, as if nothing had happened. A few minutes later, her mom wrinkled her nose. “What is that smell?” Her dad sniffed, then frowned. “Lily…” he began, his voice hesitant yet ominously serious. “Did you… did you poop yourself?” Lily flinched, her tears beginning to stream down her face. She didn't answer. She couldn't. But her lack of response was enough for them. “I can't believe this!” her mom said, her voice rising to a shrill pitch. “This is disgusting! You're ten years old, Lily! You should be able to control yourself!” Dad joined in, his tone accusatory. “For goodness sake, Lily! We put you in a diaper in case you had to pee. We didn't expect you to do this!” Lily burst into sobs, unable to meet their gaze. She felt humiliated, small, like a baby. She hadn't meant to, she really hadn't. But her parents didn't see it that way. “Why didn't you just tell us?!” her mom demanded. “But she did tell you!” Leo suddenly spoke up, surprisingly firm. “She asked to stop. Twice! You told her to use her diaper!” Her parents stared at him, stunned. “You told her she had to use it!” Leo repeated, his indignation clear. “And now you're mad at her for listening to you?” “You stay out of this, Leo,” her dad said sternly. “This is between your sister and us, it doesn't concern you.” “Yes, it does!” Leo retorted. “I was wearing diapers on all our previous trips too. Would you have been mad at me if I had done the same? Would you have refused to stop so and made it so that I couldn't get to a toilet?” “We thought she was just going to pee,” her mom said, her voice softer now, but still laced with frustration. “We didn't realize she meant…” “Well, maybe you should have asked,” Leo snapped. “You just assumed! It's not her fault you made a bad assumption. She asked you twice and you just brushed it off. And now you're yelling at her for doing what you told her to do? That's just not fair!” Lily stared at her brother, her sobs subsiding slightly as a moment of silence filled the car. She hadn't expected him to defend her. Even after his little gesture of support, even if he wasn't going to be teasing her as he had in the past when she hadn't been able to make it, she thought he would simply ignore her and let their parents do his job better than he ever could. But instead he'd stood up for her, bravely confronting their parents. “Both of you need to apologize. Now,” Leo concluded, his small hands clenched into fists. Her dad opened his mouth to protest, but her mom stopped him, placing a hand on his arm. “He's right,” she said quietly. “We did jump to conclusions. We're sorry for yelling, Leo.” “Don't apologize to me. Apologize to Lily,” Leo said. Her mom started. “Lily, we—.” “No. We're not apologizing to Lily,” her dad interrupted. “This is unacceptable, Lily, and you know it!” Lily's tears came back in full force as she began crying uncontrollably. “It's unacceptable to do what you told her to do?” Leo questioned, remaining firmly defiant. “No, it's unacceptable to make a mess like that! God, do you have any idea how long it's going to take to clean that up?” her dad fumed. Her mom sighed and shook her head, visibly exasperated. “Dear, this isn't getting us anywhere. Leo, you're right. We were wrong to yell and we should have listened to Lily when she told us she needed to stop. I'm sorry, Lily, we didn't mean to upset you.” Leo gave a small snort at that apology, but didn't push any further and returned to his game. Silence once again filled the car, broken only by the rumbling of the vehicle and Lily's sobs. It seemed like an eternity before Lily's dad finally spoke, grumbling under his breath. “Fine. We'll deal with it at the next service station. At least we only have one kid in diapers now.” He wasn't grumbling quietly enough. Leo's head snapped up from his tablet. “And once Lily's cleaned up, I want a diaper for myself,” Leo announced, startling his parents, and even Lily. “What?!” his mom exclaimed, her voice shrill and incredulous. “If Lily has to wear one, then I will too,” he said firmly. “It's not fair if only she gets humiliated.” “Leo, you don't need a diaper!” his dad yelled back. “Yes, I do,” Leo replied, unwavering. “Not for accidents, but to support Lily.” Lily stared at her brother, tears still streaming down her face, but now they were tears of gratitude. He hadn't just defended her; he'd given up the very thing that she so wished she could have for herself. “Thank you,” she eventually whispered. He nodded absentmindedly, clearly focusing on his game, but he had clearly heard her. And that was enough. Earlier, she had been jealous, thinking about how unfair it was that Leo got to be “grown up” when she didn't. But now, the only thought she had for him was love. He'd defended her and made her feel better by sacrificing the proof of his maturity that her parents had offered to him. She smiled slightly, picking her book back up and focusing on it. She read, and tried to forget the warm, squishy feeling in her diaper.

*Knock knock knock* The sound of someone knocking on wood could be heard through the raven haired preteen’s room on this day. Despite the bright sunlight coming through the window and sending streams of light through the gaps in the lacy lavender curtains, and the bright red numbers on the alarm clock sat on the white bedside table reading 11:20am, the small unassuming lump underneath the thin flower patterned comforter would indicate that the occupant was still very much asleep. The 12 year old girl’s long wavy hair sprawled across the pillow, the only part peaking out into view from her cozy resting place. “Sarah! It’s time to get up! Just because it’s summer vacation doesn’t give you an excuse to sleep all day!” Came the somewhat exacerbated voice of my Mom from the other side of the bedroom door. “Okay okay, I’m up…” I listlessly reply almost on autopilot whilst snuggling deeper into the comforter of my bed, still somewhat drowsy in that state between being asleep and being awake that we tend to find ourselves when we’re bereft of any idea as to what is actually going on around us. I continue to lie there fading in and out of consciousness for who knows how long when I once again hear my Mom’s voice, slightly more agitated now through the door. “I guess we’re doing this the hard way.” She sighs as she opens my door and briskly walks through, coming to my bed before I can make out what’s happening. Normally this would be fine, Mom would throw the blanket off of me and give me a good shake to wake me up properly. However as I stir more awake I’m immediately reminded of something and I quickly recall why I was awake so late last night and squeeze my legs together a little to confirm my thoughts. I’m greeted with the feeling of soft thick padding between my legs, suddenly I’m more awake than I’ve ever been, I’m wearing one of my little sister’s diapers. I try to sit up as quickly as possible to show that I'm up and awake but almost simultaneously my mother has whipped the comforter off of the bed. “Time. To. Get. Up. you know I wouldn’t have to always make a big deal about this if you would just…” My mother’s words trail off as she gets a good look at me. Me, pulling on my pink pajama shirt to try and cover the obvious waistband of my diaper from above my pants, only to get caught in said waistband and clearly expose it to my mom. I can feel my face start to heat up as she focuses down to my waist and I freeze, overwhelmed; my brain is running a million miles a minute trying to find some sort of excuse, some sort of fix for this situation, but nothing comes, all I can do is sit paralyzed in a daze feeling my face heat up from my cheeks to my ears as I look up at my mom. She looked bewildered for a moment, like someone just told her that the sky's the ground, the sea’s made of apple juice, and tomorrow is yesterday, but after what felt like an eternity but also a moment the confusion in her gaze faded and she softly spoke. “Go ahead and hop in the shower, I’ll have lunch ready for you when you get out.” She gently rubbed my shoulder, turned, and walked out of my room leaving me sitting there alone like a deer caught in headlights. I sat in a daze not really knowing what to think, Mom just caught me wearing a diaper, but she didn’t get mad, she didn’t say anything about it, she didn’t really do anything and it confused me to no end. I absentmindedly looked over at my alarm clock seeing it read 11:30am. I know I’ve been sitting thinking for too long and decided to listen to my mother and go take a shower. I enter my connected bathroom and turn on the shower waiting for the water to warm up. I start to undress but come to a stop when I get down to just my diaper, instead my sight is attracted to the full length mirror on the back of the door I've just entered from where I’m greeted by my reflection. My eyes are met with a petite little girl stands there at 4 foot even (~122 cm) with exposed milky white skin and long wavy raven black hair that reaches to the middle of her back and big bright doe eyes of a similarly black color to match, looking down it’s obvious she has yet to start her path to puberty as her chest remains flat, much to her chagrin as a lot of her peers have started to develop in such an area, though along with her somewhat lacking height her mother assures her she’s just a late bloomer and she'll have her turn in no time. Looking down even further I make eye contact with the various Sesame Street characters that adorn the landing strip of the Pampers size 7 diaper, two tapes securely attached to keep the absorbent garment in place, and an assortment of colorful designs outlining a squiggly yellow line; a wetness indicator meant to change to blue when wet. Despite what this stupid thing put me through this morning I can’t help but smile a little as I see myself wearing it, the soft warm padding hugging me in just the right places and the soft crinkle as I move and shift about, something about it just feels so right. I’m glad I finally found the nerve to put one on even if I’m a bit regretful as to how it turned out in the end, I grimace again worrying about my mom before pulling off the diaper’s tabs and deciding to throw it in my garbage before hopping into the now steaming shower. I start washing myself almost mechanically while my thoughts start to wander off as to how this whole situation came about, where did it start. Actually I can’t really pinpoint when it started but for as long as I can remember I’ve always had a strange attraction to diapers, getting strangely self conscious when diaper commercials appear on TV, not being able to look away when the younger kids had their diapers changed at daycare, walking down the baby product isle of the grocery store with Mom after Lily was born. All these years of small little tugs of curiosity here and there have added together to the point where it finally got the better of me and I decided to go through with it and finally wear one. I stayed up past my normal bed time until Mom and Dad both went to sleep, before sneaking into my little sister’s room to steal one of her night time diapers. Putting on my first diaper in 10 years was amazing, even though I was all tingly with nerves, as soon as the tabs were stuck on I knew immediately that I was hooked. Well I still flubbed it in the end but it doesn’t seem like mom is mad at me or anything, maybe we’ll both just forget this happened and I can find another day to try exploring my interest in diapers again and hopefully not get caught then. After getting out of the shower, drying off, and wrapping myself up in a big fluffy towel I make my way back to my room where I’m met with an odd sight, there on my remade bed is a small stack of folded clothes while for school Mom usually puts clothes out for me to wear, but on days without school as long as we aren’t going anywhere where dressing is important she leaves it to me to wear whatever i want, but sitting on my bed today are some clothes she obviously picked out for me to wear. While finding it odd I figure it wouldn’t hurt to wear what she picked out for me and make my way over to the bed but part way there I stop in my tracks when i see a second pile that was previously just hidden from view by the bed frame, there sat on my bed is a pair of pink flowery panties that I would wear any other day, no problem there, but next to those is the real problem one of Lily’s Paw Patrol Pull-up training pants, and next to those is one of her Pampers diapers. My eyes go wide and my head goes blank trying to understand what’s going on, why are there diapers in my room, I mean obviously Mom put them there but why? Is she testing me? Is she trying to be considerate? I honestly don’t know what to think, my blush quickly comes back, imagining my mom trying to decide what kind of underwear I her 12 year old completely potty trained daughter is supposed to wear and just giving up and leaving it to me to decide. I’m honestly conflicted. Part of me is too embarrassed to wear anything but the panties after what happened earlier. However there’s another part of me that’s trying to convince myself that this is obviously a sign that Mom’s okay with me wearing a diaper, otherwise why else would she put them here? I agonized for what felt like an eternity over what to do when I finally decided. “The heck with it, she already saw me wearing them and she obviously left them here with the intent that I might decide to wear them so I’m just gonna do it!” Well even though I psyched myself up for it I still chose to forgo the pampers and instead wear the Pull-up and panties over top for good measure. “Huh, this is different.” I muttered to myself after shimmying the Pull-up up my legs and into place. The Pull-up was snug in a different way from the Pampers, a different fit and the padding was substantially thinner as well after close examination. I moved my legs and waist a bit to get comfortable hearing that distinct crinkle bringing a smile to my face and turning my attention to the rest of my clothes. First a white training bra with pink trim and polka dots dotting the surface, Mom makes a big point that it’s important to wear this so I’m ready for when I really need one, followed by a pair of stretchy light grey leggings, my favorite hello kitty socks, a sunny yellow skirt, and lastly a Pink short sleeve T-shirt with a pretty butterfly decorating the front. Having finished getting dressed I move over to my vanity, a matching set along with the dresser, night stand, and bed frame, to brush my hair. Having successfully untangled any knots and gotten myself looking presentable I confidently make my way outside my room and into the hallway, where all my confidence is immediately replaced with anxiety as I hear the faint crinkle sound coming from my bottom, as I continue meandering down the hall toward the stairs. I stop at the top hearing the sound of my little sister playing in the living room and what sounds like Mom humming in the kitchen no doubt finishing up lunch, I take a deep breath and take my fist step down the stairs “Here goes nothing.”

1 Max awoke with a start. For a moment—like anyone just waking—she didn’t know why. Then the familiar pressure settled in, gentle but unmistakable. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, which sparked a small, hopeful feeling. She could make it this time.She pushed herself upright and reached for her glasses, patting the nightstand until her fingers closed around the frames. Once they were perched on her nose, she felt steadier. Finding the light switch took longer. It was farther from the door than she ever remembered, and by the time the room finally brightened, the urgency had sharpened.Still, she was up. That counted for something.Max cracked her bedroom door—and froze. The hallway light was off. It wasn’t supposed to be. It was always left on, just in case. Her heart sank, but she didn’t turn back. Turning back would only make everything worse, and she knew it. Drawing a slow breath, she eased into the hallway, letting the weak glow from her room guide her. She held the door open as long as she could, memorizing where she thought the switch would be.Then she let go. Darkness swallowed the hall. The door clicked shut behind her, and for a heartbeat she felt completely lost, as if the house had rearranged itself while she slept. She shuffled forward with her arms out, moving faster than she meant to—part nerves, part necessity. Her hand struck the wall. Relief surged. She fumbled along it, panic creeping higher, until—there. The switch. Light flooded the hallway. Max ran. Each step brought her closer and made things harder at the same time. She didn’t slow until she nearly collided with the bathroom door, gasping as she caught herself. One last burst of determination carried her inside. She had made it. Just a few more seconds. She moved on instinct—lid up, pajamas down—and then realized her mistake. “No—” The sound barely escaped her. She had forgotten the last step. Hands shaking, she tried to fix it, but there wasn’t time. Frustration tipped into tears as she lost the struggle she’d been fighting all night. Max woke again just before her alarm, as she sometimes did. She lay still, staring at the ceiling, already knowing. The memory of the night made her stomach twist. “Stupid diapers,” she muttered. Being wet always put her in a bad mood, though it never lasted long. By the time the alarm finally sounded, irritation had replaced embarrassment, and she silenced it with a practiced tap. A few minutes later, there was a knock. “Rise and shine, Max. Time to get up.” Her mom didn’t wait for an answer before opening the door. “Oh—you’re already awake. Did you sleep okay?” Max rolled onto her side, avoiding eye contact. “I guess.” Without needing to be told, she pushed the covers back. Her mom checked quickly, gently, and sighed. “Aww, honey. Another accident?” “I was really close,” Max said, the words tumbling out. “I got to the bathroom, but the light was off, and I couldn’t—” “I know,” her mom said, not quite listening. “You’ll get there eventually.” “If you just didn’t make me wear these—” “Max.” Her mom’s tone was calm but firm. “We’ve talked about this.” “Why can’t I at least wear pull-ups at night?” Her mom shook her head. “Pull-ups won’t hold, you know that.” Max clenched her jaw. It had been months since the last time she’d had a messy accident, yet her mom still brought it up. It never seemed to matter how long it had been. “Let’s not start the day with a fight,” her mom said gently. “Once the accidents stop, we’ll talk about changes, okay?” Max knew better than to argue. She pouted instead, which earned her a kiss on the forehead. “Come on. Breakfast is ready.” Her pajamas were pulled back into place, and her mom took her hand, leading her down the hall. In the morning light, it looked much shorter than it had during the night. Max glanced at the bathroom door as they passed it, hopeful for just a second. They kept walking. She sighed. Being wet meant no chances were taken—and no change until after breakfast. 2 As soon as she had finished her breakfast, Max couldn’t excuse herself quickly enough. She waddled into the kitchen away from her sister, and was once again taken by the hand, despite objection, and led away up the stairs. Ally, meanwhile, made her own way upstairs to get ready in her own time. Max didn’t like being led around; it was as though her mom didn’t trust her to go where she was told, and she certainly didn’t like having her diaper changed. It wasn’t even as if she had anything hard to do; on a morning she only needed to change out of her diaper, but she knew that her mom wouldn’t trust her to do it. At least Ally hadn’t been around to see her objecting; protesting that you shouldn’t have to wear diapers to bed made for a pretty embarrassing display while you were still wearing a wet one… Her protests went unheard though, just as they always did, and Max was already halfway through being changed before she got tired and gave up. She had been sitting on her bed while her mom had been cleaning her up, but now that she was through being awkward she decided to lie down to make things easier. It didn’t take very long, and upon completion her mom left Max to get ready for school on her own, taking the wet diaper to the trash with her (nothing to do with Max’s diapers was kept in her room). Max was glad for the brief moment alone, and even after she was finished getting ready for school she made sure to wait as long as possible before going back downstairs. In the end it wasn’t too long, because there was no sense in making herself late, which would only get her into trouble at school. Nevertheless, when she re-entered the kitchen both her mother and her sister were already waiting to go. “It’s about time, Max, you’re gonna make us late!” chimed Ally. “Sorry, I was just getting ready. But we can go now.” “One second, dear, you can’t go anywhere just yet,” her mother said, reaching into a bag on the side of the kitchen table. “But Mom, I don’t want us to be late!” “Nonsense. It’ll only take a minute, and you know you can’t go without it.” Max sighed. She knew what was coming, and she knew it was pointless to try talking her mother out of it. She just wished Ally wasn’t there. “Come on, hop on over,” she called, holding open a disposable pull-up. Reluctantly, Max walked towards the table and lowered her panties, which earned a definite frown and a grumble from her mother. Max knew she wasn’t supposed to put panties on before school; she needed her pull-ups. Rather ashamedly, she kicked away the underwear and stepped into the pull-up, holding her skirt so that her mother could pull the garment up to her daughter’s waist, making it snug. “There you go, Max. Now turn around and I’ll put two spares into your bag just in case.” Max complied and turned around, releasing her skirt so that it fell into place, covering her secret. Unfortunately, she was now facing Ally, who in turn was staring right at her. Beet red, Max lowered her head in an attempt to escape her sister’s attention, but it was no good; she could feel Ally’s gaze burning right into her, while her mother seemed to take forever fiddling around with the bag on her shoulders. At last, she heard the sound of a zipper closing and felt a gentle pat on her head. “All done. Now run along, girls, or you’re going to be late for school!” 3 Neither Max nor Ally said a word to each other on the way to school. This suited Max just fine, as it meant she could power-walk with her head down and blame it on the fact that they were running late. As always, she tried not to think about her embarrassing situation, but as always it forced its way to the forefront of her mind. After all this time it still wasn’t a routine for her; she just couldn’t accept it as normal. Every day felt like the first time for Max, which only served to frustrate both herself and her mother. At least I don’t have to wear those stupid baby diapers anymore, she mused; now that was embarrassing. Those silly little pictures where the tapes went… and the pull-ups were even worse, because the pictures would fade whenever she had an accident, like she wouldn’t be able to tell herself. Yes, Max was definitely glad to be out of those, even if her new “grown-up” underwear was a little bulkier. At the time she had complained about it, of course—just like she always did—saying for a good while afterward that she didn’t like the new diapers, if only to prove to her mother that she didn’t like things her way all the time. Still, she liked to think that her mom was simply being reasonable when she finally switched Max out of baby diapers, and not for the more rational reason that her daughter was just getting bigger and wetting too much…As it turned out, they weren’t late for school at all, probably due to the brisk pace at which the girls had travelled. They even had a few minutes to wind down before class, which Ally spent chatting with her friends and Max spent going to the bathroom. This was absolute routine for Max; not that her chances of having an accident were ever above zero, but going at regular intervals was a fail-safe way of ensuring her mom was never proved right. Oh, how she loved going home accident-free—it gave her something to look forward to all day. Of course, the trade-off was that if she ever did have an accident—hypothetically, of course—then going home became something to dread. Today, however, went pretty much as usual: a few close calls but no accidents. Once again, Max expected to return home to her just rewards. Arriving home also went pretty much as usual, which sadly for Max meant she didn’t get her just rewards. No matter how many times she protested that she hadn’t had an accident, her mother still subjected her to a routine diaper check every time she walked through the door. At least she didn’t have to walk home with Ally, which gave Max a chance to rush back first and avoid the embarrassment of onlookers. However, her sister had an uncanny knack for making it home before Max and was often sitting in the kitchen at the exact moment of entry. Worse still, she would sometimes wait outside so they had to enter together. Of course, their mother thought it sweet that Ally waited for her sister—a good example of sisterly love, she called it. Today was one such occasion, and as usual Ally let Max enter the house first so she wouldn’t block the line of sight between their mother and her supposedly older daughter. “Well now, how was school for my two favourite girls?” she asked almost instantly. “It was o.k.,” Max answered. Ally, meanwhile, was happy to stay silent. “And how is your—” their mother began. “I’m fine, really,” Max interjected, knowing full well what the question was going to be. “Uh-huh…” came the rather disbelieving reply. “I mean it. No problems, like always.” Max put particular emphasis on the last word, just in case her mother might finally get the point. “Well, if you did have an accident, I hope you remembered to throw away your dirty pull-up,” she said, completely ignoring everything Max had just told her. Once again, this comment stemmed from a long-past incident in which Max, on one of those rare “occasions,” had been too embarrassed to leave the school bathroom cubicle with a pull-up in her hand and had instead stashed it in her bag. She’d intended to dispose of it later, but it slipped her mind—much to the detriment of her anti-diaper efforts. By now the check was underway, with each girl sporting a very different expression. Max was understandably uncomfortable and bright red, while Ally stood transfixed for the entire procedure, her nonchalant yet sympathetic expression firmly in place. She had mastered that look well. After the pull-up check came the bag check—a very simple yet utterly degrading process of counting the pull-ups in Max’s school bag. It would have been easy for Max to use one during the day and change into a dry one before coming home. This was exactly her mother’s thinking; she didn’t doubt for a second that Max would do it if she could, hence the reason she always removed the spare pull-ups as soon as Max got home. The injustice, at least in Max’s eyes, was that it was always promptly investigated if a pull-up was missing, yet every time they were all present and correct her mother said not a word of encouragement. Max often made a point of reminding everyone that no pull-ups were missing—like always—but her mother brushed it aside as though she still didn’t believe her, or considered the dry spell a complete fluke. Another check endured. Another check passed, Max thought with fading hope. Surely this was helping her case, no matter how much her mother dismissed it. She didn’t hold her breath for any reprieve from the next step, however, as once again she was taken by the hand and led upstairs. Just once I’d like her to ask me first, Max thought as she was pulled along. Once they were out of sight, Ally allowed herself a smirk. She stood in the kitchen in the exact spot Max had occupied moments earlier and imagined their mother checking her while Max watched. “Oops! I forgot you wear panties!” she would say, feeling foolish for checking. “It’s o.k.,” Ally would reply, obediently holding her skirt high and not making a fuss like Max would. “I can see why you might forget.” Then she would deliberately turn to face her sister, directing their mother’s gaze. Max would try not to look embarrassed—but fail—feeling the combined attention of Ally and their mom while clearly seeing that Ally was wearing panties. Ally wouldn’t need to say anything more; the look would be enough. It was a good fantasy. One of several she returned to often. She knew most kids imagined embarrassing things happening to their siblings, but few ever got a taste of the real thing. Ally had more than enough. The real situations weren’t always as imaginative, but they were almost as good—sometimes better—especially when Max made things worse for herself or when Ally was surprised by scenarios she’d never even considered. Those moments, however, were the ones that brought out the real caring sister in her. She didn’t want Max to actually suffer. She had ways of balancing her guilt, not least the belief that Max partly deserved their mother’s treatment, and that their mom was simply doing what she thought was best. Ally realised she had been thinking too long and was still standing in the kitchen holding her skirt up. Anyone could have walked in. A sharp pang of guilt grounded her, and with her smirk gone she left the kitchen to do whatever she pleased. “I can do it myself, Mom…” Max argued, rather half-heartedly. “Why are you making such a fuss about it, Max? You never used to,” her mother replied, unaware that Max saw no truth in that statement. As far as Max was concerned, she had always complained—especially when expected to put up with something as menial as this. How hard was it to take off a pull-up? She knew deep down it was because her mom didn’t trust her not to keep the dry pull-up and stash it away as a spare. Max also knew, equally deep down, that she would do exactly that if she could get away with it, which only made her more annoyed. She hated it when her mom was right.At least the pull-up was dry this time, though that was hardly consolation when her mother still tugged it out from under her. Being dry meant the ritual ended there—no cleaning necessary. Her mother promptly left the room with the pull-up in hand, destined for the trash. Max hoped it would end up in the “special” bin, the separate one with the one-way lid used solely for her diapers. This was one point where Max and Ally agreed: diapers in the normal trash risked exposure. For Max, that would be mortifying. For Ally, people would assume they were hers. Neither outcome was appealing. Slipping on her panties, Max decided now was a good time to use the bathroom. She’d been holding it a little on the way home—not enough to cause trouble, but why risk it? She loved using the bathroom while wearing panties; it felt like a small affront to her mother. Using it at night or at school wasn’t the same—you only felt good for a moment before being reminded of your “protection.” When she finished, Max deliberately pulled her panties up and down several times, a luxury not permitted in diapers. Part defiance, part ritual—she needed to remind herself she could still wear them. By the time Max returned to her room, her mother was waiting, just as she’d expected. With a sigh, Max sat beside her. If her mom wanted something, resistance was usually pointless. So she waited. Her mother stood and began rummaging for something. Max knew what was coming and didn’t resist when she was laid back onto the bed. Her mother removed the panties Max had put on not ten minutes earlier and tossed them into the laundry. She wasn’t angry—if anything, she indulged Max from time to time, futile though it was. Max considered making a fuss. Normally she would have, but last night’s minor indiscretion had left her with little leverage. Still, she tried. “Mom…” she began. “We’ll see, dear,” her mother replied automatically, taping the diaper into place. Max hated wearing diapers around the house more than anywhere else. The bathroom was never more than ten seconds away—why couldn’t she wear pull-ups like at school? It didn’t matter if she came home dry; she was always changed straight into a diaper with no chance given. She’d had this argument a thousand times. The answers were always the same: pull-ups cost more, diapers held bigger accidents, and she was at home so no one would see. Blah, blah, blah. The last part was the worst—Ally could always tell. Of course, her mother still held the ultimate ace card: that Max simply had accidents and needed protection, even at home. Max blamed this entirely on being forced into diapers in the first place—a perfect catch-22. She only had accidents because her mother expected them. At least things were better than before. For a long time Max hadn’t been allowed to remove her diaper herself. Having to ask just to use the bathroom felt absurd. Sometimes she felt practically forced to use them—those tapes could be tricky. And don’t get me started on not being allowed to change myself… she thought, before pushing the thought away. Max often considered voicing these thoughts. She had, many times, without success. Right now she didn’t bother. Her resolve was wearing thin. Once, she’d protested every forced diapering. Later, she learned tantrums worked better when saved for special occasions. That didn’t work either. Over time, her arguments became habit rather than conviction. The futility was sinking in. The tragic truth—one Max would never admit to herself, let alone her mother or Ally—was that she was getting used to it. 4 Max sat in her room for a while, enjoying the moment of isolation. Her mom didn’t typically like Max to wear anything over her diaper when it was just family at home—it made checks easier—so she sat at her computer desk as she was, idly playing a game and trying to relax. After a little while, she noticed a familiar feeling in her stomach. A slow, heavy pressure. She needed to poop. Max sighed softly and pushed her chair back. Not wanting to give her mother any more problems—and wanting to prove, even just once, that she could use the bathroom properly—she stood up and made her way toward the door. As she approached the bathroom, hand already reaching for the handle— Ally appeared out of nowhere. In a blur, she darted past Max, slipped inside, and slammed the door shut, the lock clicking almost instantly. “Ally! I was just about to use the bathroom—please let me in!” “Sorry, Max, but I really need to go. You’re just going to have to hold it,” Ally replied casually from the other side. Max stood there for a moment, stunned. Then the pressure in her stomach shifted, reminding her this wasn’t something she could ignore. Frustrated, and now feeling a bit desperate, she turned and slowly made her way back to her room. When she got inside, she shut the door behind her and started toward her desk—but suddenly a sharp cramp hit her stomach, hard enough to make her stop and squat down where she stood. “No, no, no… I can’t have an accident right now. I can hold it,” she whispered to herself. She had to. She needed to. She wanted to prove she could be better—that she didn’t need these stupid diapers. She focused on clenching, on holding everything in— So much so that she didn’t notice the warmth spreading at the front of her diaper. It took her a second. Then her eyes widened. Realizing what was happening, she quickly reached down, pressing against the front of her diaper in a desperate attempt to stop it—but the sudden movement broke her concentration. Her body betrayed her in an instant. With a forceful push, she felt the unmistakable pressure shift. “No—!” It was too late. She could feel it starting, the heavy, inevitable movement pushing into the back of her diaper. The padding gave way, swelling outward as it filled, pressing against her as the accident she’d been fighting all day finally took over. Her resistance broke. Max froze, breath hitching, as her body finished what it had started. When it was over, she stayed there for a moment, unmoving. Then slowly, reluctantly, she stood up. She turned toward her mirror. The front of her diaper was stained a dull yellow, no longer the clean white it had been before. The back was swollen, bulging out noticeably beneath her, the shape impossible to ignore. Max reached around and pressed her hand against it, feeling the fullness. She cringed. A mix of frustration, embarrassment, and something else she didn’t want to think about twisted in her chest. She didn’t want to leave her room. Not yet. Not to face her mom. Not to explain. So instead, she went back to her desk and sat down. As she settled into her chair, she shifted slightly, feeling the uncomfortable weight and softness of her diaper. It annoyed her at first—the way it pressed and moved—but after a few minutes, her body adjusted, and the feeling dulled into something more bearable. The smell slowly began to fill the room. Max wrinkled her nose faintly, but didn’t move. Strangely, despite everything, she wasn’t entirely displeased with how it felt. The thought caught her off guard. Confused, she shook her head and forced her attention back to the game in front of her. About thirty minutes later, there was a knock at her door. Before she could respond, it opened, and her mother stepped inside. Max glanced up. Her mom paused almost immediately, her nose scrunching slightly as the smell reached her. Without saying anything at first, she walked over behind Max’s chair and gently pulled the back of the diaper away, looking inside. Max’s face burned. “Mom, I swear—I was headed to the bathroom, but Ally—” “Max, don’t blame your sister for your accident. You could have held it.” Max’s face turned a deeper shade of red, embarrassment mixing with frustration. She had tried. She was trying. But her mom wasn’t listening. She never was. Without another word, her mom guided her to the bed and had her lie down, beginning the familiar process of cleaning her up. “Max,” she said after a moment, her tone calm but firm, “I’m a bit disappointed. You haven’t had a messy accident like this in a while. I think it’s best if you wear diapers for a while, and if you can stay clean, we can try pull-ups again later.” “Mom, that’s not fair!” Max protested, her voice rising slightly. “Max, that’s enough. You didn’t even come ask for a change, so this decision is final.” Max opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out. She didn’t have anything left to defend herself with. So she stayed quiet. Her mom finished taping on a fresh diaper and stood up. “Dinner’s ready.” Max sat up slowly, still flushed, still annoyed, and followed her out of the room. With each step, her diaper crinkled loudly, the sound making her feel smaller and smaller. Maybe she’s right… Max thought reluctantly. Maybe diapers are for the best… When they entered the kitchen, Ally was already sitting at the table. Her eyes immediately went to Max. She watched as Max walked in, her fresh diaper clearly visible, and then glanced toward their mom as she dropped the used one into the trash. “You couldn’t hold it for ten more minutes, huh?” Ally teased, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “Ally, be nice, or I’ll put you in a diaper too,” their mother said firmly. Max didn’t look up. She kept her head down as she sat and began eating, avoiding both of them. 5 After Max had finished dinner, she decided to retreat to her room for the night. Being a Friday meant everyone would be up late doing their own thing, so she had time to relax alone without interruption from her mom or sister. Now alone, she lay back on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, replaying the day in her head. How could I have been so careless? she thought. It’s not my fault, though. Ally shouldn’t have done that. She wrestled with the thoughts for a while, but deep down, the question lingered. Why couldn’t she hold it? Maybe she really did need the diapers. Max groaned softly and rolled onto her side. Enough of that. She didn’t want to spend her whole night feeling sorry for herself. Sitting up, she thought about what to do next. As she did, she felt the familiar need to pee again—but she ignored it. Instead, she got up and headed down the hall to the game room. When she walked in, she saw Ally sitting on the floor, playing Mario Kart. “Can I join?” Max asked. “Sure,” Ally replied with a smirk. “If you want to lose.” “You’re on,” Max shot back, walking over and sitting down beside her. They started racing. As the maps went by, the pressure in Max’s bladder steadily grew stronger. She shifted slightly, trying to ignore it. She didn’t want to stop—not when she was doing well. Across from her, Ally noticed. Max was fidgeting. Ally tilted her head slightly, watching. She didn’t understand why her sister didn’t just… go. It wasn’t like Max had to worry about stopping. For some reason, that thought made Ally feel a little jealous. A moment later, she realized she needed to pee too. She shifted where she sat, trying to ignore it. Just a few moments later, Ally managed to pass Max and take the lead, with only one lap left. “Yes!” Ally squealed, clenching slightly in excitement— And accidentally let out a small leak. Her eyes widened. She froze for a second, then subtly checked beneath her. A small damp spot had formed on the floor. Panic flickered in her chest. She still really needed to go—but the final lap had already started. As they raced, Ally glanced over again. Max had stopped fidgeting. A faint, unmistakable sound reached her ears. Ally blinked. Max was peeing in her diaper. Just… letting it happen while she focused on the race. For a moment, Ally just stared, surprised. Then she snapped her attention back to the screen. No way was she losing now. They neared the finish. Ally leaned forward, completely focused, forgetting entirely about her own bladder— And just barely passed Max at the last second. “I win! Take that, Max!” she shouted, throwing her arms up in victory. And then— It happened. Her body gave in. Warmth spread instantly as she began to wet her pajamas, the small leak turning into something much bigger. She froze as it pooled beneath her, the damp spot growing into a full puddle on the floor. Max didn’t seem to notice. “Let’s go again,” Max said quickly, clearly not taking the loss well. Ally hesitated for a split second, terrified to move—but then nodded. “O-okay.” She stayed exactly where she was. As the next race started, Max shifted slightly. Now it wasn’t her bladder. Dinner was catching up to her. Her stomach tightened. She frowned, trying to ignore it. There was no way she could have another accident. Not today. Not after everything. But she also wasn’t about to lose again. Max tried to relieve some pressure, hoping it would pass. Big mistake. Her eyes widened. She felt it immediately—the unmistakable weight pressing into the back of her diaper. “No…” Too late. Ally noticed the smell first. Her nose wrinkled as she slowly turned her head. Her eyes dropped. Max’s diaper was pushing out and bulging in the back. Ally blinked, watching as it expanded. “Oh…” Moments later, their mother walked into the room. “Girls, it’s time fo—” She stopped mid-sentence, sniffing the air. Her gaze shifted. Then locked onto Max. Max froze, her face instantly turning red as she looked away. Without a word, her mom walked over and pulled at the back of Max’s diaper, checking. “Max… this is the second time today.” Her tone was calm, but firm. “If you’re not going to even try to use the bathroom, then you can’t be trusted out of diapers. That means no pull-ups—even outside the house.” “That’s not fair—” Max started. Her mom gave her a look. Silence. Max’s shoulders slumped. “Ally, sweetie, go grab Max’s changing supplies and a diaper.” Ally’s stomach dropped. She slowly began to stand— And immediately, it was obvious. The wetness. The puddle. The soaked pajamas. Her mom sighed. “Oh, Ally… not you too. You wet your pants?” Ally froze. “You know what? Go grab a diaper. You’re getting one too.” “Mom, that’s not fair! Max is the only one who—” “I said I’m not in the mood for back talk.” Ally shut up immediately. A few minutes later, she returned with the supplies. Their mom changed Max first, quickly and efficiently, before turning to Ally and putting a diaper on her as well. “Both of you—bedtime.” Once their mom left, Max looked over at her sister. A small, bitter smirk crossed her face. “Ha. You wet your pants.” Ally shot her a look. “At least I didn’t poop mine.” Max’s smirk vanished. Ally turned and walked off toward her room. Max sat there for a moment, annoyed, knowing her sister was technically right. Then she got up and headed back to her own room. She climbed into bed without another word, pulling the covers over herself. It didn’t take long before she drifted off to sleep. 6 Max woke up early that morning. As she fumbled for her glasses and put them on, she glanced at the clock. 6:07 a.m. Knowing everyone else would still be asleep for at least another hour or two, she decided to go downstairs and watch some TV. As she slid out of bed, she could feel her diaper sag heavily between her legs. Wet. As usual, she thought, trying not to dwell on it. She made her way downstairs and settled onto the couch, flipping on the TV and letting cartoons fill the quiet house. For a little while, it was peaceful. Normal, almost. About an hour later, she heard footsteps. Ally walked into the room. Max glanced over—and paused. Her sister’s pajamas were bulging slightly. Max blinked. That was… new. She couldn’t remember a single time Ally had ever wet the bed. “Uh, Ally… did you—” "Yes,” Ally cut her off quickly. “And I don’t want to talk about it.” Max raised her eyebrows slightly but didn’t push it. She turned back to the TV. Huh… A small, strange feeling crept into her chest. Not quite satisfaction. Not quite relief. But something close. Ally sat on the opposite end of the couch, pulling a blanket over herself. Beneath it, she hesitantly reached down, feeling the bulk of her diaper. It was different. She shifted slightly, testing it. It wasn’t… awful. That thought stuck with her. Their mom walked in not long after. Her eyes went straight to Max. Without hesitation, she stepped over and checked her diaper, pressing lightly against the front. “Yep… soaked,” she said matter-of-factly. “Come on, hun, let’s get that changed.” Max sighed quietly but stood up. As she followed her mom out of the room, she hesitated for just a second—then glanced back. “…Ally’s still wearing one,” she said. Her mom paused. “Oh—right. Thank you.” Max didn’t say anything else, but as she turned away, she couldn’t help the small flicker of something in her chest again. Now it’s not just me… In the bathroom, Max climbed up onto the counter without being asked, lying back as her mom got to work. She stared up at the ceiling while the familiar routine began. Cold wipes. Careful movements. The crinkle of plastic. Usually, she hated this part more than anything. But today… Her thoughts kept drifting. Ally wet the bed… She’s wearing one too… Max shifted slightly as her mom worked, her cheeks faintly pink—not from embarrassment this time, but something else she didn’t want to name. “Hold still,” her mom said gently, adjusting her. Max obeyed. “Mom…” she started, a little more confidently than usual. “Mm?” “…Are you gonna make Ally wear one all day too?” Her mom paused for just a second. “We’ll see,” she replied simply, finishing up and taping the fresh diaper snugly into place. Max frowned slightly, not entirely satisfied with the answer—but she didn’t push. A moment later, she was helped down. “All done. Go on.” Max nodded and headed back toward the living room, her diaper crinkling softly with each step. Back in the living room, Ally sat stiffly under her blanket. Now alone, her thoughts were racing. Maybe Mom forgot… Maybe she won’t notice… She shifted slightly. Her bladder still felt full. She hadn’t gone since waking up. And… she was already wearing a diaper. Ally hesitated. Then bit her lip. What’s the harm…? Slowly, cautiously, she relaxed. Warmth spread through the already damp padding, soaking deeper this time. She exhaled softly, her shoulders relaxing. A moment later, their mom walked back in. “Ally, Max just reminded me—” She stopped mid-sentence. Her eyes dropped. Then narrowed slightly. “Oh… I see.” Ally froze. Her mom walked over and pulled the blanket back, then gently tugged her pajama bottoms down just enough to see. She reached down and pressed against the diaper. Warm. Very warm. Her expression shifted. “Ally… did you wet the bed, or did this happen just now?” Ally’s face turned bright red. "Mommy, I’m sorry… I—I wet the bed… and I just had an accident now too. I didn’t mean to…” Her mom’s expression softened. “Sweetie, it’s okay. Accidents do happen.” Ally looked up, hopeful. “But there are still consequences,” her mom added calmly. “Come on.” She took Ally by the hand and led her to the bathroom. Max was just stepping out as they entered, now in a fresh diaper. Their eyes met for a brief moment. Max tried not to stare. But she noticed. Ally saw her notice. Neither said anything. Inside, her mom untaped Ally’s diaper. It dropped into the trash with a soft, heavy plop. Ally looked away, cheeks burning. After cleaning her up, she stood there, expecting— Panties. Instead, her mom held out one of Max’s pull-ups. “I want you to wear this for a while,” she said. “Just in case. If you can stay dry for the rest of the weekend, you can go back to panties.” Ally hesitated. “…Okay, Mom.” Her voice was quiet. Defeated. As she pulled the pull-up on, she felt something shift inside her. She had always been the one who didn’t need this. The one who was above it. And now… She stepped out of the bathroom. Max was still nearby. In a diaper. Ally glanced at her—really looked this time. At least I’m not in one of those… The thought came quickly. Automatically. But it didn’t feel quite as strong as it used to. She frowned slightly. …But would it really be that bad? Their mom had already moved on, heading back into the house. Ally followed slowly, unsure what to do next. The day suddenly felt very different.

Chapter 1 Scott could hardly contain his giddiness as he turned his steering wheel to make a left at the intersection. After several weeks of careful planning, scheming, checking, and rechecking, he finally had a free weekend for himself. He had spent those weeks ordering discrete packages filled with supplies of a particular nature and tinkering in his garage on a device that he hoped would be able to fulfill his wildest fantasies. He could feel his heart pound in his chest as he put his blinker on and changed lanes, wanting to get home as soon as legally possible. Scott had had a great week at work, his boss had been admiring the white leopard's progress for a while now. He had recently designed a filing system that, according to his calculations, had increased the company’s data storage system by a whole 12.4%. The subsequent increase in efficiency had also increased his paycheck to a much sizable amount, which he had recently been putting to good use. Scott was a brilliant engineer and computer programmer, his passion for creation had brought him to work for Sky-TEC industries, a company that specializes in creating computers whose processing power and ability to complete tasks in incredibly low amounts of time had brought them up to one of the best technology companies in the world. But as brilliant as this company was, Scott was just a little bit more brilliant. Scott had quite unmistakably come into contact with a piece of technology that was top secret and incredibly powerful. Many would use it for great evil, while some might use it to achieve near indestructibility. Scott however, wasn't particularly interested in any of those things. He had some very private tendencies that he had never shared with anyone since he was a child. Specifically, he loved indulging in infantile fantasies, imagining himself just like a little kid again. From feeling the warmth of a freshly soaked diaper, to the pleasurable struggle of being put in bondage whilst wearing a soiled diaper, unable to do anything about his current predicament, to the wonderful childlike freedom of just wearing a diaper and t-shirt whilst watching children's shows on TV. Scott had spent a good amount of time imagining exactly what he'd love to do to or by himself if he had the time and resources to fulfill his fantasies. Fantasies that he hoped would be fulfilled very soon. The leopard pulled into the driveway of his comfortable little home. It wasn't anything special, he had little furnishings to decorate it with, but it had what he liked to consider an "aesthetical amount of space". He turned off the engine, grabbed his shoulder bag, and exited the car, walking into his garage. He flicked on the lights, and as the light bulbs blinked awake the device that he'd spent months on putting together sat on his workshop table. To put it bluntly, Scott had been programming a device that would essentially stop time itself. Through a combination of biotechnology, an improbability-engine, and a calculator that essentially worked on the whimsical nature of the polarity of electrons whirling around in titanium atoms in the contraption, the device was able to access the particular genetic code of the user and ignore all cells with the sequence, then continue to all other organic matter and inorganic matter and "freeze them in place". Scott didn't fully understand it, but he knew how to put the parts together and calibrate the machine. One might think that experimenting with such a device would be incredibly risky, but Scott had that figured out as well. He had coded in a fail-safe into the device. If a large amount of cells of the individual who had activated the device began to shut down at a rapid enough pace indicating possible death, it would essentially reverse the freezing process restoring reality to normal. Scott picked up the device with baited breath. It didn't look like anything special, like a TV remote except with fewer buttons and what looked like more volume controls. He connected his phone to the remote and fed it information about the current time, position of earth relative to the sun, and relative temperatures around the world. He hoped that the device would be able to send out the proper frequency into the molecules around it, setting off the time freezing reaction properly. He knew that if it failed, it may fail spectacularly, possibly even harming him despite the fail safe. A green light on the device shone, indicating that it was ready to be activated. He closed his eyes, pressed his eyes shut, and pushed a large red button with his finger. A loud rushing sound echoed through his ears, he fell backwards sputtering and coughing, he felt as if everything in a single part of his body was getting lightly tickled with electricity, he yelled in alarm, but before he could yell for more than a second it all stopped. Scott looked around. Everything looked. . . normal. He went over to the garage switch and pressed it, a whirring sound came from the door as it opened. He padded outside and his jaw dropped. Birds hung eerily in the air, much like bricks don't. Leaves stood stalk still, frozen as a gust of wind was blowing through it. Scott fanned himself with a paw experimentally, looking at it as he felt the air particles against his whiskers and fur. He had done it. He had created a device that stopped time. It stopped time for everything and everyone! Everyone, except him. Scott hooted and hollered! He started running down the street, passing cars with passengers in them halfway through a sip of coffee, forming a word as they talked on the phones, or smiling jaws and maws agape as they sang to their favorite car songs. Scotts saw planes and clouds, unmoving in the sky, felt the warmth of the sun on his fur as it peeked behind a cloud, permanently, until adjusted by the remote of course. Scott stopped running in the middle of an intersection and turned around and around, taking in the view. He laughed, joyous that he had achieved something that most thought was only possible in sci-fi movies and fantasy novels. Suddenly, he remembered why he had gone so ridiculously out of his way with his invention. He turned tail sprinted back to his house and got quickly inside, closing his door, not bothering to lock it. Who would try bothering him now if every ‘who’ was frozen in time? He walked inside his sparsely furnished living room and opened one of the brown boxes he had sitting there. A fresh waft of baby powder and ointment met his feline nostrils as he admired the contents of the box. Within it lay several large, fluffy adult diapers, each themed with little cartoons of various baby animals wearing diapers. Some looked sleepy, others laughed in joy, while still others were too busy with a toy to do anything else. Scott shuddered with excitement and let out a shaky sigh. Finally, I can unwind like I've always wanted to. He thought, as his tail twitched in anticipation. He looked at the other boxes, knowing that what they contained would only increase the amount of fun he was about to have. He grinned, and speaking aloud to no one said, “It’s going to be a good weekend."