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IT: Infant Tech By Horatio Husky Commissioned by Bolt Chapter 1: The Office Bolt readjusted his glasses. This was a nervous habit of his, which he would perform with relative frequency whenever he was working with unruly code. Sat in front of his desk, garbed in his normal office attire of dress shirt, black dress pants, classy shoes, and stylish bowtie, the husky was deeply immersed within the contents of his computer screen. The husky’s office cubicle was relatively orderly; a Newton's cradle and Rubik’s Cube served as the only available knick-knacks. The husky knew full well that too much desk clutter was a prime environment for distraction. Sometimes, however, a little distraction was necessary to allow his mind to wander just far enough for him to be able to get some perspective. He had been staring at his computer screen for about two hours straight at that point, and despite the blue light filter in his glasses he could feel his warm, brown eyes beginning to dry up just a little bit. A semicolon… really… that was the error? A sense of weariness suddenly overcame the husky. Moving his right paw, he delicately stroked his keyboard a few times until he had typed in the correction to his code. Bolt leaned back in his chair. He pulled down softly on his one droopy ear, another habit he often performed when deep in coding contemplation. Unseen, conveniently hidden in the break room by drawn blinds, two felines stood holding respective mugs of coffee. A caracal and tiger, the two giant cat species had their attention focused on the husky through a break in the blinds which the tiger held slightly open with an extended claw. Yuri’s had a singular protracted claw, his other paw holding the mug of joe in his paw with a firm, confident grip. Cinder, on the other hand, appeared to be every semblance of calm, cool, and collected. He lounged leisurely against the countertop, gazing down the bridge of his nose at the same husky that had just now caught his feline companion’s attention. “Another office crush, Yuri?” Withdrawing his gaze momentarily from gazing between the break in the blinds, the tiger gave the caracal his best withering look. Which, coming from a tiger, is quite an intimidating experience. The desert cat was left unphased, however, as he had been at the end of such an unflattering glance more often than not. Idly, he took a sip from his coffee mug and cocked his head to the side, his long, pointed ears flopping to the side dramatically. “Oh don’t look so grumpy, kitty cat. Shall I bring out the ball of yarn so you can feel better?” Yuri, who had grown used to the unwavering confidence that the caracal seemed to have a true abundance of, chose to ignore the comment and turn his attention back to staring at the husky. From his vantage point, he could see that the husky appeared to be well distracted and in the midst of work. Having only recently quit his temping position at the company, the husky was now able to exercise his full work ethic with the accompaniment of financial compensation. At this rate, he would be employee of the month in no time. Yuri’s golden, feline eyes pierced through the husky with a predator-like ferocity. Something inside of the tiger told him that not all was what it seemed with the newest member of IT. It was while Cinder was idly browsing through his phone, disappointed that he was unable to get a rise out of his tiger friend when Yuri gasped. Cinder knew this was important. Deftly placing his mug of coffee on the counter he pushed himself off the counter in a quiet, controlled leap landing right next to the tiger. “What is it?” He whispered softly, his feline instincts kicking in as the two cats’ slitted eyes narrowed as they gazed at the oblivious canine. Bolt sighed, stood up, and turned around to pick up a small laptop on the desk behind him. As he did so, an uncharacteristically large bulge in his rear end pressed against the seam of his pants. Cinder’s mouth dropped wide open, an uncharacteristically surprised face coloring the feline’s sharp, noble features. Yuri simply smiled, chuckling softly under his breath which came as a deep rumble inside of the massive cat’s throat. He spoke under his breath. “We got ourselves another one…” “This is the second one this month! How do they keep falling into our paws like this?” Yuri shook his head, a gratified smile across his muzzle as he placed a heavy, reassuring paw on the smaller cat’s shoulder. “Alright, like we did last time. I’ve still got the carseat set up and he looks pretty gullible. I think we’ll be having some good fun tonight, kitten.” Cinder blushed slightly towards the end of the tiger’s comment, knowing full well what the larger cat was referring to. It wasn’t so long ago that he had been the subject of the tiger’s cleverly designed trap. Yuri turned around, in a series of purposeful movements he drained the remainder of his coffee into the sink before depositing his mug on the dirtied dish rack. Taking out his car keys, he placed them on the countertop before departing. His striped tail floating majestically behind him, the muscular feline shouldered his way through the door of the office kitchenette and made his way over to the husky’s cubicle. Cinder had picked up the car keys, slyly lowering them into his pocket before silently exiting after the tiger, making his way towards the building’s garage level. The image of confidence, Yuri loomed over the husky casting a shadow over him. Bolt took quick notice of this, and turned around in his seat to gaze up frightfully at the intimidating fur in front of him, blinking several times. “Uhm… Can I-” “Yes, you can. I’m Yuri. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The cat extended a massive paw towards the husky. Bolt, recovering quickly, smiled in kind and took it on his own, giving it a firm squeeze as he replied with a clarity in his voice that took even him by surprise. “Hi Yuri, I’m Bolt. The pleasure is all mine.” Confident little scrappy mutt, isn’t he? Ohhh I like him… This should be fun! Yuri’s smile broadened, now feeling a sense of genuine delight at having witnessed a confident introduction accompanied by a firm handshake. He didn’t much like wimps, even though he did enjoy putting them in their place. Cinder had shown significantly less bravado than the canine in front of him, and only after he had discovered the truth behind the tiger’s intentions did he warm up. No, this pup has spunk! It’ll be even more fun to see him crawl now… Still smiling, the tiger motioned with a jerk of his head towards the elevator that led to the garage level below. “Bolt, I’ve got a few computer towers in my car that I worked on over the weekend. I really would have no trouble transporting them myself, but if you come along it’ll only take one trip. How about we use it as an excuse to take a break from work with a little aerobic exercise and a friendly chat, hmm?” Understanding quickly, Bolt nodded and smiled congenially. Closing down his computer, he stood up and nodded indicating that the tiger should lead the way. Yuri turned, and began to make his way towards the elevator. Glancing back briefly, to ensure that Bolt was coming along. Given the size of the cat, Bolt had to take a step and a half for every step the tiger took. The subtle waddle the husky was unconsciously exhibiting slightly was now more apparent. Suspicions confirmed, the tiger turned to face forward with a look of satisfaction on his muzzle. “It’ll be the grey minivan, the company likes its Chrystlers.” Yuri spoke, his tone a low rumble as the two entered the elevator and the tiger pressed a button marked ‘G’ while Bolt nodded in response. The two stood silently in the elevator, waiting patiently for the lift to descend down to the parking garage several levels beneath the ground floor. The company building itself was relatively massive, sporting fourteen proud stories above and three below. The two were stationed on the fifth floor, so the descent was relatively brief. Ding! The elevator doors opened to reveal rows of sparsely populated parking spots, the smell of concrete with a hint of car exhaust hitting their nostrils as Yuri led the way. “I’m parked towards the back.” He stated simply, his smirk hidden behind his turned back as he heard the husky behind him pick up speed to keep pace with him. Everything is running smoothly… “Alright, take a look at what I’ve got here for you!” Speaking confident, he opened the passenger side door with a flourish to reveal what was inside. It took Bolt a moment to process what he was seeing. In front of him appeared to be a baby’s carseat, except no ordinary one. This particular seat looked large enough to comfortably seat him, with an impressively robust five point harness that looked as if not even Yuri would be able to break through it. Stunned, the husky stood open mouthed for a few seconds while he tried to process what he was looking at. This was exactly the opportunity that Yuri and Cinder were looking for. “Now, before we get you snuggly buckled up for your car ride little guy, let’s check something really quick.” Unable to react in time, Yuri placed his hands underneath the husky’s armpits and raised him up effortlessly. Taken by surprise, Bolt let out a whimper while his legs dangled helplessly behind him. As suddenly as he had been picked up, he felt something fiddling with the front of his belt buckle. Twisting around, his cheeks burning bright red, he was able to catch a glimpse of the Caracal he had seen wandering around the office earlier trying to undo his pants. At last he succeeded accompanied by an exclamation. “Aha! There we are.” His pants now around his ankles, Bolt’s choice of underwear that morning was now on full display for both of the large cats to examine. “Just as I thought, we have a little puppy on our hands.” Yuri stated, a condescending but not unkindly tone in his voice. Bolt was now blushing furiously, his tail curled between his legs in a vain attempt to hide the large, white diaper that hugged his waist snuggly. It was apparent to both of the onlookers that it was designed with both comfort and absorbance in mind, as a trail of puppy paws ran from the front middle all the way through the back. “You won’t be needing these, I don’t think.” As Bolt spluttered, an overwhelming feeling of helplessness and smallness washing over him as he continued to be held up in the air, Cinder delicately disentangled his pants from his ankles. Now, he wore only his work shirt and sneakers, which made him feel incredibly exposed. The tiger looked him up and down, an expression of approval across his muzzle while Cinder neatly folded the husky’s pants and placed them under his right arm. “Cinder, do me the favor of checking the puppy’s diaper, would you?” At the direct mention of his padding, the husky’s ears folded against the top of his head. Tail tucked between his legs, cheeks burning, and ears pinned, the canine was the spitting image of an utterly flustered pup. Grinning, Cinder placed an authoritative paw over the front of the dog’s thick padding, squeezing gently before cupping the back in turn. Pressing it upwards, as if to further remind Bolt of what he was wearing, the caracal shook his head as he replied. “Still dry, surprisingly enough,” Cinder commented. “Well then, I think we should do something about that,” said Yuri, giving the husky a large, toothy smile before depositing him into the oversized booster seat. “W-wait a second! I一mmpf!” Bolt, having finally been able to find his voice, barely managed to splutter out a complete sentence before he was silenced by Cinder, who had apparently been waiting for such a moment. Crossing his eyes, Bolt looked down to see what had interrupted his exclamation while Cinder tightened something behind his head. His vision obscured by the caracal’s red-orange fur, the husky only became aware that he had been fully buckled into the carseat when he felt the harness tighten over his shoulders, waist, and onto the front of his diaper pressing it up against him. The husky’s heart was now beating quickly, limbs flailing. As if in anticipation of this, Yuri swiftly grabbed each of his wrists and looped them through soft, padded cuffs. His wrists now suspended by his head, his arms held upwards in an incredibly vulnerable position, he found that he was no longer able to struggle as effectively as before. Cinder had grabbed his ankles and pulled them through a similar set of cuffs that prevented him from raising his ankles more than a few inches away from the bottom of the carseat. Both cats stepped back and took a moment to admire their handiwork. Bolt looked down to see what they had done to him, a lock glowed softly from a small panel that served as the center-point for all of the buckles. From what the husky could gather, the locking mechanism appeared to be activated by a touchscreen, the key to which he was sure was possessed only by the two felines in front of him. “Aww, I think he looks pretty cute! That pacifier won’t let much more than a whimper through, pup. So you can whine all you want on the ride home!” Cinder extended a wiry arm forward, gently booping the tip of the husky’s snoot. Yuri appeared pleased as well, his arms crossed and looking down at the incapacitated fur as if he were appraising a prized possession. Speaking softly, and without breaking his gaze at the pup, he placed a car key into Cinder’s paws. “Yes, I think he does. Take the highway, kitten.” It was Cinder’s turn to blush, which he barely managed to conceal as he lowered his vision and nodded, opening the door next to Bolt’s and sitting himself down in front of the wheel. Moving with the impressive display of control that all large cats appeared to inherently possess, Yuri sat down in the seat next to Cinder's, looking back at Bolt in the rear view mirror. “I encourage you to behave, puppy. This will be fun.” With that statement hanging in the air, Cinder pulled out of the parking garage and had merged into city traffic within a few minutes. Bolt was still trying to process what had just happened to him. The two cats had seemingly quickly found out about his little secret before he had had the chance to react. He was now pacified, gagged, restrained, and being transported to who-knows-where. Despite himself, to make matters even worse, he was beginning to feel himself become aroused at the restrictive tightness that five-point harness seemed to impose on the front of his padding. Wrapping over his shoulder, with three straps ensuring that his waist and diaper were snuggly pressed against him, there seemed to be no hope of escape. He was completely at the mercy of the felines sitting in the front seats of the car. The car ride passed in silence, Bolt pulled helplessly at the restraints holding his limbs hostage but to no avail. Yuri would occasionally look up in the rearview mirror, Bolt could see that his eyes were wrinkled as if he were smiling, hidden from view from the husky’s limited line of sight. Whatever the tiger was thinking, it was causing him great pleasure.

The premise of this series is that the caregivers in the Jackie universe have collectively hired someone to write a newsletter documenting the happenings in the local scene. It's a weird way to spend money, but then, there are a lot of extravagant flashes of wealth going on here already, and this is a relatively minor one when it is pooled together by the group. I wrote these for a couple of reasons - one, because while I've now introduced 9 big babies in the Jackie series (some only in passing) there are still quite a few that we know very little about. So, it's a good chance to meet characters whose perspectives we might see down the line. Second, I've mentioned before that I love the idea of limited perspectives, and doing these newsletters from the CGs perspectives is a fun way to get a different view of the world than we'd get from Jackie or another one of the babies. I particularly enjoy instances where their perspectives on events dramatically differ. Personally, I take no position on whose interpretation is correct - although the "author" of these newsletters will certainly lean towards reporting the only interpretation that they hear as fact! And third, I selfishly enjoy the idea that these newsletters are being sent out via email, and that the babies probably don't even know that they exist, and, to the extent they do, have absolutely no opportunity to present their side of the story to the outside world. Maybe their perspective will be shared with us via a certain narrator who can somehow read their thoughts, but it will never get to the small group of people they know, and maybe their view of events will never even make it that far and the accounts below will just become the official account. And which would even be better? Anyways, enough of my musings. From here on out, when I post story segments I'll just jump straight into the "author's" voice. For now, I've written out a full round of these on the same topic. I don't know if I'll come back to it when this round is over, and if I do, whether I'll continue with the idea of doing the rounds to all nine or not. I think this could be a vehicle for some of the more experimental short stories that I have in mind, so it could take a different form in later editions. If people have ideas of topics that they'd want our reporter to explore, I'm open to suggestions (although I make absolutely no promises!). And if you don't know the series yet, or you want to play where's waldo with a couple of the heretofore minor characters that will get their proper debuts in the next several weeks, here are the previous stories in the universe: Baby's Unexpected Trip Jackie's Play Date The Haircut Pushing Boundaries The Morning After the Night Before ------- Author's note: Hi - and welcome to the first edition of Big Baby Steps, the new newsletter featuring all of the latest gossip from the NoVa big baby scene. I'm so honored that you all have chosen me to help keep each other up to date on what your little girls are up to, and I can't wait to get to know each of your families! If you've got topics you want me to answer, just respond to this email. We're going to have so much fun! Who’s a smelly girl? It’s Tory! Making stinkies. Doing a pushie. Going poo-poos. We might all assign different little names for our girls to use, but we all know what we’re talking about – dirty diapers. We’re all more or less used to them now, and so are our big baby girls, but the fact that they can still be such a source of embarrassment highlights just how infantile making a mess in your pants is for even our well-conditioned adult babies. Invariably, our little ones come away covered in their own messes, and the smell makes sure that no one can miss what they’ve done (even if we may choose to play oblivious for a while!). When changing time comes, there may be relief from the discomfort, but, done right, the shame should be great enough that our little ones are practically begging to just be taped into a fresh diaper and returned to whatever other embarrassing activity you might have in mind for them. You asked that we use the first several of our new community newsletters to get to know the babies’ stories a little better, and what better way to do that than to hear the story of the first time that they did the most babyish thing possible? Today, we start by share our conversation with Tory’s Daddy, Brian, who told us quite a different story than we’d expected to hear. (I've lightly edited our conversation for clarity) What was going on the first time Baby Tory messed? Hah, so I think that people think they basically know this story, but I don’t actually think anyone does! People remember that we let Tory use the potty for her poopies for the first, I don’t know, 15 years. It was one of those things where even before Kara and I talked to Tory about coming to live with us as our live-in sub, we talked about how we’d ultimately make her into a baby. At that time, we weren’t sure we wanted to deal with dirty diapers, and so we decided we’d use a potty. As it turns out, dealing with a potty wasn’t really any better for us, since we still had to deal with the stink and we still had to clean the potty, so it was only really better for her. But, you know, we’d made the rules and I just think it never occurred to us to change it until one of the other babies came over and there was a dirty diaper in Tory’s pail. When we found out Tory was the exception, it made us think and all of the sudden it was a “why not?” situation. But anyways, what people don’t know is that all of that came way after her first dirty diaper! So this was all maybe, I don’t know, four or five years before we made the shift away from the potty. Kara has an annual work party that is always a pretty big deal. They always have everyone in the company from all around the country come into headquarters and bring in their families and it’s kind of like a staff retreat for a couple days but then on the last night they have a big party for everyone. With Tory at home it can be a little bit harder to get out much. I actually think a lot of people at both of our works think we are sort of prudes who never go out. Of course, little do they know what we’re actually doing! But, you know, it would be nice to be able to go out a little bit more, especially together. So parties like that are pretty big events for us. We’d arranged for her nanny to stay late to babysit, which was what we’d normally do if there was something we needed to do outside of the house. Ashley says it isn’t actually that much more work than a normal day, since she just has to feed Tory and then give her a bath, and once she’s got her in bed she just sits and watches TV like she normally would, only at our house. And, of course, we pay her extra so I think as long as it isn’t all the time it works out pretty well. So, we went out and had a great time. Must not have got back home until at least one or two in the morning. When we did, Ashley woke up and went home to sleep in her own bed. We, of course, pretty much went straight to bed too. At this point, maybe you can see where this is headed… Well, maybe? How did this lead to Baby Tory’s first dirty diaper? Yeah, so it’s actually kind of a comedy of errors from this point. If we are out late on the weekend, it’s fairly predictable that we will sleep in pretty late. Not that we don’t usually sleep in a bit on the weekends, but we’d normally be talking about something like 8 o’clock, which doesn’t really impact Tory. But if we are out later, we’re likely to sleep until more like 9 or 10. Tory doesn’t have any way of knowing the time in her room, so she’s certainly not in a position to be complaining about the time when she wakes up on those sorts of mornings. Surely she knows it is well past when she normally gets up, but she can’t prove it, and she wouldn’t be allowed to do anything about it anyways. In fact, those can turn into funny days for her, because sometimes we’ll wake her up, feed her breakfast, feed her lunch, and put her down for a nap all in a matter of just maybe two or three hours. Not that she’s ever awake for more than about five or six hours at a time on a normal day, but those days can get really compressed. But back in the old days, sometimes if we slept in too late Tory would get to the point where she needed the potty. In those cases, she was allowed to make noise over the baby monitor to beg us to get her up and take her there. Of course, as usual, she had to be ready to go immediately once we got her on there, so it was usually a pretty big emergency at that stage. On the morning in question, that never happened. Kara and I both slept late – probably like 10:30 or so. I don’t think either of us really thought much of not having heard anything from Tory, to be honest. We got up and just went about our normal routine. Kara went downstairs to make coffee for us and some breakfast for Tory, while I headed to the nursery to get her up, changed, and dressed for the day. As soon as I opened the door the smell hit me. I’d put Tory on the potty plenty of times, so I knew immediately that I wasn’t just dealing with gas. The other thing was that Tory was crying. My mind was racing trying to figure out why she hadn’t said anything, or why we hadn’t heard her crying over the monitor. It wasn’t like she was that loud, but it would have been plenty loud enough to wake us up. And then I remembered! Sometimes, as a sort of torture/reward, we play a little prank on Tory where we switch the baby monitors. We’ll put the transmitter in our room and the receiver in the nursery instead of the other way around. And then, come the evening, well after she’s gone to sleep, she’ll be surprised by the sound of the two of us going at it. I assume that this is a pretty rude awakening for her, but if she’s smart, it’s the only time where she isn’t being monitored against getting herself off. And considering that this is all a big turn on for her that she’s otherwise not usually allowed to act upon, I assume that she’s figured that out! So anyways, as I walked into her room and took in what happened, I pretty quickly remembered that the morning before we’d thought that it would be a good night to switch the monitors, since it would probably come as a complete surprise to Tory when we’d been out all night. But we’d gotten home so late that we hadn’t even thought about it (or Tory, really), and we’d just gone to sleep. Probably sometime that morning, Tory had called over the monitor that she needed to go potty, but we hadn’t heard it. And she probably had figured out what the problem was when she heard us get out of bed, but that wasn’t making her morning any more pleasant! How did she react? Well, you know, like I said, she was crying as soon as I walked in. Maybe she had been before. I actually felt bad for her, since it had been an honest mistake. I tried not to rub it in too much, although I could tell that even just mild teasing was pretty embarrassing under the circumstances. I think I said something like, “Oh no, Baby Tory, did you have a poopy accident?” when I got over to her crib. She was sucking her thumb like always, but she just cried a little harder and with these big puppy dog eyes gave the most pathetic little nod you’ve ever seen. I lowered the side of the crib and pulled back the blanket. When I helped her sit up, I have to say that I relished the face she made. It was just horror, and I couldn’t resist teasing her a little more. “Alright, well since we got you up a little late I assume you want breakfast before we change you?” She shook her head furiously. “No, Baby Tory? Your mommy is making it nice and yummy for you right now. You can just bump down the stairs on your bum and then hop right up into the highchair.” Her eyes were just pleading now. We both knew this was not actually her choice. But I’d never really intended to take her down there. “Fiiiine, little girl, we can change you first.” I helped her up and guided her the couple steps to the changing table, where with a quick boost she took one final, unpleasant seat and then laid back for the change. What was the change like? Once I got her over there, I kind of had a moment where I realized I was in for something quite different than I was used to. When I opened up the diaper, the smell wasn’t necessarily any worse than the potty, but the mess sure was. When she used the potty, all it took was a couple of quick wipes and she was pretty much good to go. But with that first dirty diaper I barely knew where to start. Well, except for more teasing! That part was obvious. I was like, “Such a dirty girl, Baby Tory. You got stinky poo poos all over your bum, didn’t you?” Nothing too inspired, really, but neither of us were used to them yet, so they worked She, of course, didn’t answer except by turning a further shade of red. From there, I just got to business. Pick a spot and wipe it. I know enough now to know that it really wasn’t a bad one at all. She probably hadn’t been in it for more than an hour, and since she’d mostly just been lying on her back, it hadn’t really spread nearly as much as we sometimes see now that we’ll make her keep going about her business for a while before we are ready to change her. Within a few minutes, I had her clean, powdered, and padded again. I picked out a onesie for her and got her into it. “Are you going to say thank you, Baby Tory?” I asked her. “Fank oo, Daddy,” she said, although it was still muffled by her thumb, so you could barely really understand her. Which is the point. “For what, little girl?” She didn’t want to say it, but she was going to have to and she knew it. “Fan oo fowah changy my poopy diapuh.” “You’re welcome, my stinky little princess. It’s a good thing you have mommy and daddy to take care of you. Try not to have too many naughty thoughts about how you’re just a dirty baby girl who couldn’t wait long enough to use her potty. Let’s go downstairs for breakfast.” Her blush told me that I was right. She had hated it, but the part of her that had made her want to come here for the humiliation also had gotten a thrill. I vowed to myself that Kara and I would do everything we could to tease her and turn her on for the rest of the day, but that we’d make absolutely sure she wasn’t able to get any release for at least the next week or two, even though we’d been ready to give her that rare chance the night before. Does anything else stand out? Well, the first thing was that as soon as we got downstairs, Kara asked what took us so long. So then I got to tell her all about it. Of course, I only reminded her of the monitor situation afterwards when Tory was back in her crib for naptime. Kara, of course, naturally went straight in for the humiliation as well, telling Tory how glad she was that she didn’t have to change such a disgusting diaper. The whole time she fed her she kept saying things like “open up for the airplane, you big smelly baby,” and she generally made sure that there was no way that Tory could forget her shame for the rest of the weekend. And then another thing I remember is how much fun it was to taunt Tory with what she did the rest of the weekend. We definitely did keep her horny but frustrated, which is my favorite version of Baby Tory. I think we ended up waiting another month or so before we finally did the flip the monitor trick again and let her have a little release. But the best part was that her room smelled the whole weekend until we finally had to take the diaper pail out on Sunday. She literally couldn’t escape the memory even after she was out of the mess. Of course, now that’s pretty close to constant, but back then, that was novel. And, of course, I think the experience helped make sure that when I found out all the other babies did that all the time, I didn’t really hesitate. Like I said, the potty was only better for her, and having changed one poopy diaper, now I knew that first hand. So yeah, that’s about it. Looking back, we kind of wish we’d used that as an excuse to just have her start messing all the time then, but we got there eventually!

Authors Note: Hello, everyone. It's been a while. I'm back to work with all kinds of new responsibilities and daily tasks. That means that free time has dwindled. I loved how during Covid, I had a whole extra two hours a day of no travel that I could dedicate to writing stories. Not only that, but after finishing Little Conditions, I felt my drive to write severly decrease. I have already apologized to the people on Patreon who donated to me as I feel like I could not live up to expectations. That all being said, this is a brand new story that I will post completely for free here. It is (almost) done, so no disappointment or burnout postponing this story. I hope you all enjoy. Thank you. Please Read: This is a six part story. Each part will have a new protagonist and a different style. Some are more dark than others, and some have unreliable narrators. Each part ends on it's own, but you will benefit from reading them in order. Some things are set up early for later stories. Please feel free to ask any questions. If its not spoiled later on, I will be happy to answer. I'll post once a week, so you won't have long to complete the story. I hope you all enjoy. Part 1: Elise Her mouth gaped open as her well manicured finger pulled the email back up and down. She had reread the entirety twice already, when only the header truly mattered. “Congratulations!!!” It exclaimed with all the confetti and fireworks neatly animated around the bulging letters. The bubbling, boiling, bountiful, beautiful, boisterous energy wanted to explode out of her chest as Elise pulled the tablet close to herself. “Hahahahaha. Yes. Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! YES! I’ve won. I’ve won, I’ve won, I’ve won.” She bounced around like a schoolgirl asked to prom by the football captain, like a toddler given a giant lollipop, like… well nothing like her outward appearance would suggest. The short bob cut auburn hair framed both her freckled face, as well as the conservative diamond earrings, matched by the one held to her neck by a thin gold chain. Her white blouse and business skirt lay across her body still wrinkle free after a full day at the office. The anxiety was worth it. The scheming had been worth it. The consequences… will probably be worth it. Elise was free. FREE! Free for one whole week from the monster she had married. The self centered, egotistical, maniacal demon that she had sold her heart too. The sound of the front door closing broke her from her revelry as she quickly hid the tablet back under the master bedroom bookshelf. A secret spot only her and the weekly maid knew of. “Okay. Okay. Calm down.” Elise brought herself to center with a large breath. “Now to sell it.” Walking down the cathedral stairs, her heels clacked against the marble. Standing by the doorway was the cleverly disguised devil, himself. The broad shoulders, ink black hair, and deep brown eyes were what had attracted her (and many others) to the construction industry’s Elon Musk. Mark Deighlein was a third generation Welshman who’s smile rarely ever met his eyes. “Never miss out.” Would be the title of his book. The phrase could be applied to any part of his life. Her appetite, business ventures, travels… hell, even leg day if you could imagine that. From up on her perch, Elise looked down at the man who had deceived her. Had stripped her of her freedomn, and enslaved her very being to him. She knew his magic powers well and would have to be smart to get away with her plan. She called down to him, “Mark. Welcome home. Listen, I know you just got back, but I’d like to…” Without looking her way, Mark continued to put away his coat and work shoes. (What you wear must always fit the occasion. Work shoes do not belong inside the house, only house shoes… whatever those are.) “Come down here, Elise. No need to shout indoors.” Shit. Heading down the stairs, she slowly inched closer and closer. Once on the ground floor she was already regretting her compliance. The bear of a man stood nearly a full foot taller than her and without the multiple layers of business suit covering him, the vest he wore did nothing to conceal his 235lb muscular frame. “Now, what was it you were saying?” Stepping forward, Mark fully blocked the light of the doorway chandelier as he stood in front of Elise. “I… I won.” “Won what?” …………………………………………………………………………………………………….. The deliberations had been hard fought. Mark was not one to skip details, and Elise was sure he was doing something with his magic to make her legs wobble. Eventually the pair had retired to the lounge where she had brought up the email from before, but from her phone this time, she was able to show him all the details, including the competition she had signed up for without his permission. That… didn’t go too well, but the rest did. Some might call it begging and pleading, but Elise was happy to leave it at negotiating her case. Never before had she ever presented him with a contract, but her “initiative” was surprisingly well received. Now, three weeks later, scheduled time off for the both of them, and a fully cleaned house, Elise was ready for her plan to fully come to fruition. She had been giddy all morning, nearly screwing up the makeup process she so rarely ever needed these days. She smiled mischievously at the thought of what was to come. The payback. The revenge. The JUSTICE! It was all firmly within her reach now. She had just finished preparing refreshments in the dine-in kitchen when the sound of chimes rang from the front door. Walking briskly past her husband still watching some show about stocks, she allowed for one minor treat before the full buffet. “Mark. Turn off the television. The crew is here and I don’t want to make a poor first impression.” Her heart pounded in her chest as the words left her mouth. The pause afterword, doubly so, but before he was able to turn around and answer, Elise had already quickly left and made her way down the hallway to greet her holy avengers. She had barely thrown the door open before loudly exclaiming, “Welcome! You must be the crew they sent. Come in. Come in.” There were four in total. Three men, and one woman. All dressed plainly, with jeans and either jackets or hoodies. All standard working class, with only slight individuality amongst them. The girl and one of the boys had fairly intricate looking cameras while the remaining two were busy with a black puffball on a stick and a heap of folders respectively. However, they were all so relaxed having been caught talking amongst themselves, not even pointing a camera at the entryway. Elise could feel herself frown, “Why aren’t you recording?” The boy with the folders stepped forward, “Oh. Mrs. Deighlein. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He stook out his hand that she reluctantly shook. “I’m Dewayne, from Desperate Housewives, Maryland. Sorry for the confusion, but I just have a few papers for you and your husband to sign before we can start filming. Two party consent and all that.” His smile was obviously to disarm the tension, but Elise was annoyed. She had already begun to push with that comment to Mark earlier. If they couldn’t film without signing first, she might have just screwed this whole thing up. “On the show, you always film meeting the housewives.” Dwayne rubbed the back of his head as he clarified, “I’m sorry Mrs. Deighlein, but that’s just a bit of camera magic. We can film that after everything is signed. Now, we are going to be with you the whole week, so this is Danny, Ri…” Elise needed those papers signed and that camera rolling. Interrupting the boy she turned on her heels back towards the lounge, “Come on then. Best to get everything settled.” Biting her lip, Elise internally screamed as she saw Mark calmly pouring himself a shot of Tullamore at the bar. The T.V. was framed into the wall, dead quiet. Whether this was a good thing, or bad, was yet to be seen. Flashing a smile Elise tried to gauge how screwed she was, “Honey. The crew is here. They just need us to sign a few documents and then they can get started. Isn’t this exciting?” “Of course.” He took a sip from the irish whiskey before continuing, his eyes trained on her frame, “Now, why don’t you go grab the portable copier from my desk and hurry back.” The T.V. now forgotten, Elise smiled as she turned to go carry out her task, happy that her earlier fumble hadn’t screwed this whole thing up. “Pet.” The degrading nickname stopped her in her tracks. Quickly looking to the hallway, she worried that the crew might have heard, but from the sound of things, they must be bringing in equipment with them. One could hope. “I would also like you to do one more thing for me.” Elise didn’t dare turn back. She knew whatever sadistic smile her husband had on his face right now would buckle any bravado she had worked up thus far. “Yes, dear?” “Open the bottom right desk drawer for me.” Elise could feel her face heat up. A mixture of embarrassment and fear overwhelmed her as she spun around. “You promised!” Thankfully his focus was on the glass drink in his hands and not at her. “So I did. I’m not going to do anything so long as you don’t. I just want you to take a look inside. As a reminder.” “I don’t have to bring anything?” “Nothing but the copier.” He smirked, “Or did you already forget?” Elise turned back and stomped her way off away from the crew and her villianous tormentor, “Of course not!” Not a moment too soon as she could hear introductions taking place just as she had taken the first few steps upstairs. Down the hall and to the right she counted the doors until she had finally made it to the one she often dreaded. Living in a new home was sometimes weird, but only a few months here and she was intimately familiar with every nook and cranny of the mansion. All except here. The few times she had been to the study had been less than pleasant. Elise was pretty sure this was where he condensed his cursed magic. It would make sense why he was both here so often, and why she was only allowed when given express permission. Thoughts of subterfuge ran through her mind as the wide wooden door swung open to a room filled with a rich musk unnatural to such a new home. I could access all his files, find/destroy any kind of dirt he has on me, maybe find his phylactery and rid the world of his evil for good. I could also… just not… open the cabinet. Just tell him I did. Elise quickly shook the thoughts from her head. He would know, and she would suffer. This was not only a job he gave her, but probably a test. It would not surprise her if he was standing right behind her. Spinning around the woman in the expensive green dress and black leggings was met with dead air. Calming herself again, she made her way into the den of evil. Books of necromancy, baby harp seal harvesting, and taxes lined the bookshelves imported from some place where death squads had killed the natives. The thin portable copier sat at the edge of his thick desk, as if it was already waiting for her. Quickly gathering it in her hand, Elise almost left, but found herself possessed. Dark magic coursed through her legs as she was forced to walk over behind the desk and stand in front of the dreaded drawer. The redhead had rarely found herself in this room, that fact is true, but probably 40% of the time, when she was ordered to come here, Elise found herself opening this drawer. With cramped fingers, she slowly reached down to grab the brass handle, the cool metal surface chilled by Hades' breath. Opening it in slow measured amounts, the contents were finally revealed. Elise felt herself go white at the mere thought of how the tools inside had been used on her. Why he had kept these items here, where she was banned, was an easy question to answer. She could imagine how he would smile to himself after devouring another soul at his desk, leaning over and pulling this portal to her own personal hell open. How he would laugh at the thought of her misfortune and how the tools inside held such sway over her being. Standing up, Elise hurried back out before roughly closing the door and heading back to the lounge. Several boxes were brought in and Mark was casually talking to Dewayne and directing the other three on where to hide their equipment out of sight when he saw her, “There she is. The star of the show. My not quite desperate, house wife.” “I brought the copier.” Dewayne stepped up and took the offered device before Mark could, “Wow. This is something. I’ve seen them in the stores, but never actually out in the real world. Does it connect to your laptop?” Mark laughed as he poured two more glasses of whiskey and then grabbed a few cokes from the minifridge. “It just connects to my cloud account. I’ve already got a folder set up so we can get through this quickly.” The next two hours passed by painfully slow. Mark, the cautious creature that he was, took his time reading the book of documents to sign before so much as touching his pen. In the meantime, Elise was politely asked to show the three unoccupied crewmembers around the house while Dewayne answered any questions Mark had. Elise could barely muster a modicum of enthusiasm as she walked through her home. Not only was the “magic” of television production being ruined by her giving her First Look off camera, but the thought that Mark would find something objectionable and call the whole thing off weighed heavily. Finally she could hear laughter back in the lounge. Dropping her monotone description of the small pool sized bath, Elise rushed back with the crew in tow. “No need to worry. You wouldn’t be the first I’ve caught with something like this.” Her heart sank. Mike must have found something. Her smile felt cracked as she rushed in to see Mark signing the papers, “Oh. Umm… Is everything all right?” Mark looked up after dating next to his signature and held the pen out to his wife, “Of course. We just need you to sign now and then I can scan the documents while you can do whatever it is they do on these shows.” Yes. Yes, yes, YES!!! Her heart was pounding away like a jackhammer. She felt positively manic as Dewayne's voice grew further and further. It had no significance as her eyes followed his fingers to all the areas she needed to sign. Her hand felt like it was gliding on ice with each stroke as finally she felt the glory of victory rain down upon her. “I must thank you for providing a female camera woman. My sweet little Elise can get quite shy. I hope that you take care of her, Sofia. No offense Richard.” The sound of another moniker brought Elise down to Earth just as she finished the last signature, but little embarrassments would mean nothing soon. “None taken, sir. And if we need to do voice and sound without Danny, we have small equipment we can help you all with.” “So shall we begin?” Elise smiled up at Mark with as much malice as she could muster. “Mark, you can handle this paperwork while I introduce myself and the house. You can handle that, can’t you?” Everyone was quiet as they waited for Mark’s response. The power, the control. He can’t say a thing. He can’t do a thing. I have him completely under control now. Like the good little puppy he was, Mark smiled back and chirped, “Of course, Honey. Go have fun.” And have fun she was very much keen to do. But this was just the beginning. She smiled and danced for the camera as she “welcomed” them to her home. No detail was spared as she waltzed through the mansion with the camera hung on her every word. This piece was from Turkey, another from Moldova, and this desk was auctioned off from the Washington collection. Every desk, chair, painting, and installation was the culmination of her wealth and her achievement, but towards the end of her tour, was her power. Looping around she had purposefully avoided the lounge that she knew Mark was probably sulking in. Licking his wounds and maybe finally realizing the pickle he was in. “And this, right here is my loving and dutiful husband, Mark. Say hi to the camera Mark. He can be quite shy.” She felt positively high. Never… truly never had she ever been able to come close to talking to or about her husband this way. The very thought could have consequences. “Hello there. I’m Mark Deighlein. I run a few companies in the construction and landscaping business. I hope my wife doesn’t seem too desperate… or maybe that’s what the show is about.” Oh so that’s how you want to play this? “Dear, the whole premise of the show is how desperate housewives can be because of their husbands. Now, I’ve given them a tour so why don’t you sit down and explain whatever it is you do.” Elise was not about to back down. She had four strangers living with her for seven days. Strangers with camera’s who weren’t under her husband's thumb already, and she was going to fully enjoy tearing him down from that pedestal he’s been riding high on. The challenge was left at that as the camera’s focused on Mark while Elise got right to the next step of her plan. Talking down to that tyrant was exhilarating. She felt light as air as she skipped over to the opened laptop in the den. Flipping it open, she looked over to Regaliax. She looked at all the new designer dresses, shoes, and accessories Mimi had made recently. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help support her business?” Mimi was sure to get a kick out of having to restock her private collection. Elise would have to get her coconspirator to tailor some of the cuter items later. I’ll have to schedule that this week. No way we can return any of this after that. It'll be my own little crossover revenge episode with her! Mimi and her wife had designed the online shop fairly plainly. Only those who knew the two would even get past the extra zero that came at the end of each item's price, but what Elise had taken into account was the large font of the final check out page. She sat there. Waiting. Biding her time, with her finger hovering over the purchase button. She almost decided to check in with her soon to be victim, when she could hear his hoof stomps echoing down the hall. Her timing was perfect as she quickly pressed enter the moment his shadow fell over her shoulder. “What was all that?” The ire in his voice was obvious only to her. It was the tone he often had when talking to one of his lackeys after they had made a mistake in front of the customer. The cool calculating tone of: you have irrevocable fucked up, but I can’t say that here. Here it is. My moment of truth. Elise turned around on the plush couch, looking back to thankfully see the camera’s were still rolling. “Oh, no need to worry about that. Just doing some online shopping while I was waiting for you to finish up.” Leaning over, Mark was able to see the wide list of items that were just purchased, but could no longer see the price. Nothing to confirm what he had just caught a glimpse of. “Oh, barely a pitance.” Her posh riposte was a clear lie. She knew it. He knew it. Their bank account knew it. Shoot, the only reason the bank wasn’t calling about potential fraud was the fact that she shopped at Mimi’s store frequently, albeit with significantly less allowance. A crack formed in the already jagged smile Mark wore, “How much?” “Oh, Mark. You silly man.” The words spilled out of her mouth. How many times had she silently mouthed these words after being put to bed? “No need to act like a miser. I could do a bit of casual shopping every day and not make a dent in OUR fortune.” Mark turned to face the camera woman, “Sofia, could you stand over by the side of the couch?” So you wanna try and ignore me? You left me alone and I already did all this, dummy. Time to nail home just how screwed you are. How in my palm you now are! “In fact, I’m planning on picking out some new furniture after dinner tonight. I already have reservations for Ella La Bistro down by the lake at 6:00.” Mark led Sofia to where he had directed before moving to the front of the couch. “The lounge is just too gaudy. I know you wanted it to reflect a more relaxed atmosphere, but I can’t allow you to humiliate me in front of our guests anymore with your…” Mark sat down on the couch next to Elise and away from where Sofia now stood, camera trained on the pair. He was so close that his imprint on the cushion caused Elise to slide closer, her shoulder bumping into his arm. Mark didn’t match her gaze as he sat, smiling and looking forward. “Elise?” “Uh. Yes… da… dear?” “What was our agreement when you told me that you had entered into this contest without my permission?” “Permission?” She had to get a hold of the situation. She had pushed too far, but now she had to salvage the rest of the week. “I don’t need your permission to…” “What was our agreement?” He looked down at her. His smile was curt and polite, but his eyes burned behind the relaxed expression. It cowed her almost immediately. Quickly looking to the crew, Elise wracked her brain on how to save face and explain their deal in as vague terms as possible. “We agreed to uh… act in er… act in a way that reflected our position.” Mark exhaled and nodded his head as he reflected, “Ahhhh. Act in a way that reflected our position?” He rubbed his chin as he leaned close and cocked his head, “But, honey. I don’t remember agreeing to that?” “Huh?” “You know what?” Mark reached into the front pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “Maybe if you could read your contract out to me, I might remember?” How? How, does he have that? I made sure he didn’t get a copy. The only one is up in my… Mark began unfolding it before handing it over to the struggling woman, “I was super impressed, but couldn’t get it out of my head that it didn’t sound like something you’d write.” He leaned over as he gently placed the contract in her hands, “Didn’t sound like Mimi, or Spencer, nor the twins. Maybe Olive?” She looked up in horror. How much did he know. Do the other’s know? Are they okay? Mark shuffled for a second as he removed his jacket and folded it in twane before handing it up to Dewayne. “Dewayne, could you set this on the chair over there?” The crew were all speechless, save for Dewayne who just managed a quick, “S…sure.” “Now sweety.” His wide calloused finger touched the first paragraph of the contract Olive had written up for the cabal. “From the top.” The letters jumped and shook as she failed to control her hands, but it was barely a problem. Having read and reread this piece of paper countless times since she had gotten her hands on it, she could nearly recite it from memory. Taking another look around, she knew that very quickly the contents of the document would expose her. Her throat felt dry and her forehead was already forming beads of sweat as she began, “Identification of parties. This agreement is made between Mark Deighlein, (signer one) and Elise Deighlein, (signer two).” “Such a smart sounding document, read by such a smart sounding girl. Keep going, sweety.” He was enjoying himself. She had gotten past the first sentence with a relatively normal pitch and his degradment was edging her close to collapsing, but what came next… “Le… legal services to be provided. Signer one agrees that… that between the times of 10 a.m. Monday May the twelfth of 2022 and 5 p.m. May the 18th 2022, when in the presence of members of the show, Desperate Housewives of Maryland, that signer one will refrain from all activities outlined in section three of this document.” She looked around. Nothing yet, but now the fact that section three was mentioned… “Why don’t we skip right to those activities? We can skip over your section for now.” He was jumping right to it. Elise hadn’t been able to prepare herself. To come up with an excuse, to have an interruption, to stall. She stood up as she held the paper to her chest where no one else would be able to get a glimpse of its contents. “If I read that, then it will be a violation of the contract!” Grabbing her hand, Mark quickly pulled Elise towards him. Falling over his lap, she couldn’t even think to squirm before she found her arms pinned to her back. “What are you doing!?!?!” “Elise.” The magic was back. It sent shivers up her spine and forced her completely still. She wasn’t in control. He was. “Yes?” Her voice was unsteady and her gaze was firmly on the ground in front of her. “You already broke the contract.” “Huh?” “I thought you read it. Then again, you didn’t read the contract you just signed this morning, so it wouldn’t surprise me if you didn’t read…” “I DID READ IT!” Elise couldn’t remember the last time she had interrupted him. Given her position… She yelped as she felt a light tap on her bottom. Not a spank, but more like a pat. “Then if you read it, then you’d know that you needed to act like a big girl this week, and not like the spoiled brat,” THWACK, his hand clapped against the skirt of the dress that covered her rump, “that, you have been today.” The spank was nowhere near enough to get her to shed so much as a tear, but she quickly realized why Mark had positioned that girl at the edge of the couch. She had a clear shot of her now spanked behind. “Mark, stop! They are recording.” “That they are.” THWACK. That one stung just ever so slightly. “Everyone is going to see this!” “You should have thought about that before speaking to me like you did this morning.” THWACK. “But I…” “Or when you introduced me.” THWACK. “Mark, what about your reputation?” She shouted out. Elise waited for the next spank, but it didn’t come, however she could still feel Mark’s hand holding her down. Carefully she twisted herself to look up at him only to go pale at the look of his soft smile. A smile she knew all too well. Mark was gone. “Daddy?” “That’s right, princess. And Daddy is going to show everyone how much,” THWACK. “his reputation,” THWACK. “means to him.” THWACK. Elise could feel her dress being pulled up passed her hips, fully displaying her silk black panties beneath her sheer tights. “No!” She could feel the sting beginning, but a bare bottom spanking, “You can’t show a naked woman’s butt on television!” “I’m only showing how to properly discipline an unruly little girl.” THWACK. While still not completely bare bottom, that spank had hurt. In her distant past, Elise had been spanked by a number of people in less public situations, but Mark’s giant like hand had always been the worst. A single stroke from his hand was nearly as bad as the cane she had only once been brave enough to try. I have to stop this! “You!” She looked over to the camera man who had now positioned himself on the other side of the couch, meaning she was being filmed from both ends now. THWACK “Little girl, it is not polite to refer to grownups as “You”. When you address an adult you will refer to them properly.” The pain in her backside was increasing and beginning to cloud her memory. “Ummm. George?” THWACK “Not even close, sweety. Try again.” She really had no idea. Hell, if you asked her what the color of his hair was, she’d probably have a hard time without him right in front of her. He was just the camera guy! “Collin?” THWACK. “Where are you getting these names from?” “GIVE ME A HINT!” Her legs were now kicking out with each spank. Ants danced across each cheek. “It starts with a R.” It all came back to her. Mark had said it earlier. “RICHARD!” THWACK. The tears welled up in her eyes as she screamed out, “I GOT IT RIGHT! Why did you spank me!?!” Mark rubbed Elise’s inflamed bottom in firm slow circles, “That’s not how you address an adult, little girl.” “Mr. Richard.” Elise heard her daddy practically purr, “That’s a good girl.” Elise sighed before the feeling of Mark’s fingers began to pull back the waistband of her tights. Frantically she looked back at the cameraman, “Mr. Richard, I revoke my consent to be filmed. Please leave and delete your recording.” Richard looked nervously towards the back of the couch at what must have been Dewayne who quickly moved to the front and crouched down to near eye level with Elise. He couldn’t quite maintain eye contact though, once he started, “I’m sorry Mrs. Deighlein…” Mark spoke up from above, “Elise will do for now.” Dewayne looked up and cleared his throat, “Oh. My apologies.” Looking down at Elise again, he started over, “I’m sorry M… er… Elise. But according to the contract you signed, the only person who can tell us to leave, is your husband.” “Daddy.” Mark corrected, and Elise blushed at. Dewayne swallowed hard, “is your… daddy.” “What, how?” What could she possibly have signed? Elise felt the tights rip as they were roughly pulled from her waist. “No! Explain yourself!” Dewayne looked away as he blushed, “You, uh… We erm… When we record everything going on in the er… houses we shoot at. Sometimes things get heated and sometimes people will kind of try to stop us recording.” “You can’t just record without my permission.” “We can’t record without the homeowners permission.” Dewayne corrected. Elise was slack jawed at the implication. Of course she didn’t own the house. Everything was in Mark’s name. But wait… “You still can’t record me!” “Well you see…” Mark cut in, “That’s why you have to read those contracts, Elise.” Looking up, she could see part of the dark waistband held loosely in Mark’s hands. He smiled condescendingly at her, “When you signed the contract, you gave your right to revoke consent to the homeowner.” Dewayne jumped back in, “That’s right. Everyone in the house signs that right over to the homeowner, that way we can avoid conflicts.” “So, BABY girl?” The emphasis was not lost on Elise. She wouldn’t think Mark would take things this far, but even further… “How much did you just spend at Mimi’s” “Thirty-six.” It was barely a whisper. Hardly a hint on the wind. “How much?” Elise spoke up a bit louder this time, “Thirty-six.” There was tension in the air. A hard silence that held everyone’s breath. “Thirty-six, what?” His magic once again pushed past her resistances and without any warning the words dribbled from her lips, “Thirty-six thousand dollars.” Dewayne’s face was the first thing she saw as she looked up. The pure horror in his face was mirrored by the look on Richard’s face as well as Danny’s whom Elise was just now noticing. His mic had dropped down, far enough that it was probably in Sofia’s shot. Oh Sofia. Looking back, she could see that the camera woman also shared the same ghastly half open mouth image that her coworkers wore. Yup. Just the same. And then… Elise looked up towards Mark. Her stomach dropped and the tiniest trickle escaped past the thin lace of her big girl panties and onto the wooden floor below. Drip. Drip. Drip. The few drops caused the only sound in the room as the stone faced frown looked down on the terrified girl. It was like slow motion as she watched his hand rise up in a steep arc, before coming down like a tidal wave onto her damp bottom. SMACK! The wet smack against her bottom lit up every pain receptor she had ever felt. A solid hunk of force rippled through her entire body as the pain from the spank forced its way up and into her brain. Elise let out a shriek as Mark began to lay into her. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. The pain continued on and on. The first blow was the most forceful, but the continued assault on her cheeks ignited into an inferno on her surely bruised backside. “How much are you allowed to spend without Daddy’s approval?” The snot had clogged her nose, making her response raspy and ruff, “Five… five hundred.” SMACK. “Owweeee! Please. Daddy, stop! I thought… ugh… I thought…” SMACK “You thought that some dumb little contract would stop me from tanning your hide when you spent over seventy times your allowance?” “YES!” SMACK “Were you right?” “NO!” SMACK “No, what?” SMACK “NO, DADDY!” Elise lay over Mike’s lap sobbing into his leg as she felt the dam fully break. The watergates were open and she proceeded to fully soak her panties, her dress, and her Daddy’s lap. “Uh, oh.” Mike’s singsong voice cut through the heavy breaths. Pulling Elise up onto his lap he pulled her head into his shoulder. “Looks like little Elise went potty on Daddy’s lap.” Elise couldn’t resist the comfort that came from her daddy’s soft bottom pats, nor his soothing voice. His magic eroded any resistance she had and she fully sank into his hug, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. “Ummm…” Dewayne brought the pair's attention back to the company in the room, “Would you like to clean up. We can just…” Mark stood up positioning Elise to his hip where she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Yup, I’ve got to clean this one up. Get her into something more appropriate.” Something more appropriate. What a way to signal the final end to Elises week free from Daddy. Oh well. It was worth a shot. “Okay. Good luck with that. Richard, Sophia, you can take the cameras back to…” Mike paused by the starway, “Okay. All of you come along.” Dewayne fumbled with his words, “What? Oh. Oh, we can just…” Mike once again cut him off, “Earlier you said that we would could use some smaller equipment and Sophia for little Elise’s privacy.” No. Dewayne looked to Sophia who was just as shocked by the way this conversation was going. “Um.. yeah. But I don’t think…” “That won’t be necessary.” A collective, “Huh?” echoed through the room. No. Mark continued, “Little girls have no modesty, so you all are welcome to continue shooting as you are. Come on now. Time to get this babygirl into a nice thick diapie.” Oh, god that’s so much worse! “DADDY, NO!” SMACK. “Don’t you tell me no, little lady. I don’t even know where you could have gotten underwear like this.” Everything. All the little secrets she had hoped to hide, both from the monster carrying her up the stairs as well as the world watching everything those camera’s see, was coming out. “I doubt Mimi would be so bold. Unless Hannah has indulged in new play with Spencer, I doubt he would even have access to panties. I’m guessing one of the twins. Which one was it?” Elise buried her face into Mike’s shoulder. She might have been caught, but it would take a lot more than this to make her into a snitch. “I guess we should stop by my desk then. You left the drawer open, right?” “Claire! It was Claire that got me the panties.” Smack. It still caused her to jump, but this time, the spank was much lighter. “There we are. I’m going to have to talk with Alec and Stacy about Claire’s behavior. It’s a shame. I heard that she had just graduated out of trainers.” I’m sorry Claire! Please forgive me. Looking behind the beast carrying her, Elise watched the camera crew following along like zombies. Eyes wide open, mouths either firmly shut or slightly gaping, following along towards her demise. Even looking from behind, Elise knew exactly where they were the moment Mike stopped and turned to face the nondescript door. The only thing hinting at this being anything other than a closet, as she had alluded to during her first two tours, was the card scanner by the handle, locking anyone out who shouldn’t be there. “Here we go. Now, does my princess want to show the nice T.V. people her room?” He was asking her, not telling her. Which meant she had a choice? Right? Rather than vocalize her desire to be as far removed from this as possible, Elise once again buried her head into Mike's shoulder. “Uh, oh. Someone is shy, or maybe tired. Maybe it’s time for a nap. Either way,” Mike reached his arm up and pushed his watch up to the scanner. An audible click and Mike turned to the crew, “Dewayne, I have my hands full, could you open the door and let your team in?” Dewayne for his part, had a thousand yard stare going on as he reached forward and pulled the handle down. The door was on safety hinges so as he pushed, it effortlessly and slowly opened up to reveal a sea of greens, and blues, and little patches of bright color throughout. “It's… a forest?” Sofia was the first to recognize the painted walls that looked like trees with all sorts of flora and fauna mixed accented by the plush green carpet, but it was Danny who noticed there was something much more embarrassing. “Is that a crib, and a changing table?” Mike strode in past the dumbstruck camera crew heading for the aforementioned padded table. “Yuppers. Everything for my baby girl.” Dewayne walked over to the rocking horse that was much to large to fit a child. Pushing it back and forth as he began to notice all the other infantile paraphernalia he spoke as if only to himself, “That’s what he meant when he said diapers. This isn’t for a child.” All eyes, and cameras, were on Elise who was now fully splayed out on the animal print changing table. A thick white diaper with little animal cubs printed on it was brought out with a bottle of baby powder and layed next to her head. “Well, Elise may not look it, yet. But you have to agree that she has acted like a child.” Mike smiled down at the girl he was about to fully humiliate with all the love and adoration of a doting father. Elise for her part could only lay back and wish she was elsewhere. She had lost. Her plan had failed, and now the whole world would know about her. She had no idea what Daddy was thinking when he exposed her like this. Sure, she had been a bit of a brat, but why can’t she have all the fun she wanted for once? “It’s not fair.” Elise pouted. Mike brought out a pair of scissors and began cutting through not only her only pair of underwear, but also the green dress she wore. Could it be replaced? Yes, but the wet feeling around her butt meant that the rayon fabric would need to be fully cleaned and sanitized. Something neither of the two had done in years. “What’s not fair, baby?” She couldn’t look him in the eyes. Why would he hurt her like this? “I don’t want the whole world to know what we do.” She could feel the tears coming freely now. “And why is that, honey. You said yourself that this is who you are deep down. You don’t want to share this with the world?” The cut clothes were removed and Mike brought up the heated wipes. “I ONLY WANT TO SHARE THIS WITH YOU!” The sentiment lay heavily in the air as Mike began with her legs. “And what about Mimi? And Spencer? And everyone else you get to play baby with?” “Them too! But that’s all private. They are also into the kink scene. Spencer is a bigger baby than me!” A wipe right down the middle had her shiver in pleasure for just a moment before her face went right back to its deep shade of red. “Oh baby liked that? Anyway, your right baby. Daddy isn’t going to show the world how much of a pamper packing, thumb sucking, tamper throwing, diaper baby you are. Right, Dewayne?” Elise looked over to the camera crew, blushing as she could just barely make out the reflection of a nude body on top of a changing table in the black lense. Dewayne nodded his head, “While there isn’t anything per say in the contract about not filming sexually explicit content, we can’t exactly put anything up into the public either.” Mike chuckled, “It’s also not a great idea to get on a person’s bad side when they have near unlimited access to all kinds of heavy machinery, a questionable workforce, and innumerable empty worksites.” The threat was clear and positively received, based on the looks of everyone it had been directed to. Elise was still fuming, “Then tell them to stop filming, Daddy!” SMACK. “Little one, I have had enough of your tantrums today. You are to be the most well behaved baby on the planet for the rest of the evening, or we can head straight to my office. I don’t want to hear a single whine out of you. Am I clear?” Fully cowed, Elise felt her thumb slip past her lips and into her mouth, “Yeth, Daddy.” “Again?” Mike sighed as he reached down to pull the digit from her lips before pushing a thick Nuk 10 pacifier into the girl’s mouth. “Gotta break that habit one of these days.” Lifting her by the ankles, Mike slid the thick diaper under her bottom before laying her back down on the elevated cushion, “There. Now, the public doesn’t get to see baby Elly, but Daddy can always use more baby videos. So the nice camera crew are here to stay.” Looking over to the now nervous group Mike offered an olive branch, “I would be very keen on purchasing a high quality version of the content you won’t be making public. Very keen.” The crew looked to each other before focusing on the odd spectacle before them, convinced that whatever weirdness they may have gotten themselves into, a nice paycheck at the end would be worth it. “Now, since you were so rude to them, I think that our friends should get a say in your punishment. First, Danny. Give me a number between 30 and 180.” “Uh, 65?” “Richard, yes or no?” “Yes or no?” Mike chuckled, “Only one, please.” “No.” “Hmmm, conservative. Most people say yes. Dewayne, pick one, two, or three.” “Three.” “Okay, and finally Sofia. I’m sorry I have to be gendered about this, but no other man is allowed to put hands on my princess. I also fully believe in consent so for this question I’ll spell it out. Do you want to tape up this little brats diaper?” Sofia squirmed in place for a second, obviously against the thought at first, but shrugged her shoulders and handed off the camera to Dewayne, “Sure… I guess. Just show me how too…” “Ah, ah, ah. First, let’s hear what everyone else has chosen for baby Elly.” Elise for her part was suckling hard on her binki. The questions he asked could relate to anything, but the thought of someone not in her community participating in her treatment had her blushing all kinds of red. Thoughts of getting up and running out the door crossed her mind, but the moment she shifted her bottom, the stinging heat she felt on her seat convinced her that her idea would not at all be worth it. In the end if no one else is going to see it… I guess it’s just kink play? Ugh. Where’s Dashy? Looking around the stuffed horse was spotted resting on the crib. Making grabby hands towards it, Elise knew her Daddy would quickly retrieve her comfort friend. “Oh?” Mike did in fact notice, and instead of waiting, he quickly retrieved the animal for his girl. “Now for the results. First answer was 65, which means princess gets a 65 minute nap.” Okay, not so bad. “Next, the little girl is lucky. Bound to her crib, yes or no. Richard says no.” Oh, thank god. Richard, I’m sorry I ever forgot your name! Looking over she gave silent thanks to her savior, who returned it with a nod. “And finally. Dewayne, the meanest man in the land, said that whittle baby Elly needs a full cleaning with,” Reaching down, Mike pulled up a jar with little clear pellets that he roughly dropped on the table, “Three! Count em. Three suppositories.” Burying her face into Dashy, Elise was mortified. Three suppositories meant that the 65 minute nap she was getting would invariably end up stinky. Glistening them up with lube, Mike made quick work of the task as Elise squirmed and mewled at each invader. It wasn’t pleasant, but the jar was only half full, meaning this wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar process for the girl. Next came the powder and finally Sofia was directed on how to properly tape up her Safari diaper. “There we go, all wrapped up and sweet smelling… for now. Sofia, before you go back to the camera, do you mind picking out a onesie from the closet next to the rocker?” Making her way over Sofia hesitated as she opened the sliding wood door. “Oh. Oh my.” Every article imaginable that could fit in a toddler’s closet was there. Onesies yes, but also dresses, shortalls, footed sleepers, childish costumes, and most embarrassingly… “Is that… a straight jacket?” Sophia looked in awe as she pulled out the garment. Mike walked over, shocking the dazed woman when he gently grabbed the buckle and strap material from her, “Yes, and it’s not a onesie, so maybe we should just go with a standard pink.” Coming back to the table, Sofia’s choice forgotten, Mike helped the now desperate girl into her soft pink onesie. It was clear the poor girl was on the brink and Mike seemed keen on containing the imminent smell behind soft cotton. Being jostled around wasn’t helping her as Elise began feeling the cramps that came from suppositories. “Hold on a minute. What's that?” Elise followed Mike’s gaze to the stomach of her onesie. “What’s, what?” Mike’s thick hand rested on her lower stomach. Too late, Elise realized what he was about to do as she watched her lower belly pressed downward. The combined pressure was too much as Elise let out a moan. The spread open position was doing nothing to help keep the tidal wave of sludge out of her waiting diaper. It was impossible, given her position and the suppositories to hold on for more than a few seconds before she was loudly filling her diaper. Wave after wave of mush pushed into the seat of her pants and she filled her diaper like a toddler. The poop smeared across both cheeks as she exhaled deeply after the cramp had subsided. As she looked down at her now bulging bottom, she could just see the brownish white peeking out from behind the snaps of her onesie. “Okay, I think that’s enough for now. Unless the smell of poopy pamper sounds exciting to you four, I recommend you head downstairs.” The crew did just that and took their leave at Mike’s advice. Finally alone again, Mike bent over and passionately kissed Elise on the lips. A gesture sleepily, but happily returned. “Not exactly how you imagined this week, is it?” “I had you. I could have done anything I wanted and you could do nothing about it!” “Not for one second.” “Not when you cheat.” Ellie felt her bottom being smooshed against her as Mike’s hand kneaded the fresh mesh into her backside. “Hey.” “Hey what?” His other hand moved to the front of her diaper as his thumb firmly pressed directly into her slowly moistening crotch. “Hey, stop. I’m messy.” Her pout had been replaced with a moan as the feeling of her used padding being pressed against her sent waves of ecstasy budding across her body. “You always were a little diaper slut. Messy diapers never stopped you before.” “Daddy…” “That’s right, baby girl. Now, I bet being seen getting your naughty bottom tanned over my lap excited you. I bet the thought of messing yourself in front of total strangers has you positively flustered.” Leaning down he whispered into her ear, “I bet knowing that the very next thing I’m going to do is put you in that crib to take a nap in your mess while I go downstairs and explain to those very same people that you tried to use against me, that this kink and these diapers were all your idea has you ready to squirt all over your favorite diapies.” “Daddy! Daddy, please. I was a bad girl. I’m sorry daddy. Please. Please let me cum!” Pulling back the look of betrayal on his little girls face had Mike positively rock hard. “Nope. Daddy, isn’t going to get you off it your messy, stinky padding.” Elise sulked as she was carried over to the crib. However, that changed as a vibrator was dropped next to her. “Daddy wants his naughty baby girl to make cummies in her poopy diaper all by herself. Except. This time,” Reaching over he turned on the baby monitor. The baby monitor, that both of them knew connected to the speaker down in the lounge, where all the crew were. “You have to do it while everyone can hear you.” Elise looked mortified. Her gaze going between her Daddy, the wand, and the monitor. She was speechless as she watched him walk away, before turning off the light and closing the door. Smiling to himself, Mike wondered if it would take her long to cave. If he would get back to the lounge before or after she had already started. He knew it wouldn’t take long. After all, she was one desperate little house baby.

I’ve always been pretty good at being discreet when I need. My position hardly changes and I don’t show my strain on my face. However, my old mommy used to know, even when I thought she couldn’t tell at all. She told me it was because I made slight grunting noises and my hand always subconsciously floated to my bottom. What about you?

Hi! I’m Elijah and I’m new to this forum. I would love to start a roleplay with someone who leans towards the caretaker side of things. I would love to roleplay as a little boy with a caretaker/adult. I’m incontinent so I like making that part of me a bit more fun! Let me know if you want to hop in, this is open to anyone.

We're back to Jackie's perspective for this one, though we're finding her in the midst of a totally new and disorienting experience. If you're new to the Jackie Universe, you might find it helpful to read the other stories first: Baby's Unexpected Trip Jackie's Play Date The Haircut Pushing Boundaries ----- Jackie stirred awake from her sleep. She took a deep breath and slowly opened her eyes, taking stock of her surroundings. There was no way to tell what time it was, but the light of the nightlight was plenty enough to remind her that she was not in her own nursery. From her crib, she could see that just a few feet away, sharing the other crib in the room, were her fellow infantilized adults and her de facto hosts, twins Lauren and Katie. Jackie wasn’t exactly comfortable around Lauren and Katie, since she never really talked to them during their occasional play dates and the main thing that she knew about them – that they were doing this willingly – made her completely doubt their judgment. Still, recognizing where she was reminded her that she was in a place that was decidedly more relaxed than her own home. Though still contained in her crib, she wasn’t swaddled as tightly as she would be by her Mama at home, and had relative freedom of movement. Still half-asleep, she decided to take advantage of the freedom by indulging in a big yawn and a deep stretch. Just as her back began to arch and slightly twist, a cramp hit her stomach. Desperately, she clamped down on her pacifier and clenched her butt cheeks together. Now she was pretty sure she knew what had woken her up. She was still feeling pretty tired, and she’d gone to bed much later than normal, so she suspected that it wasn’t just a sleep cycle that had woken her up, and her cramping seemed to confirm that suspicion. Her mind was awake now, desperately scrambling to come up with a plan. If she was right that it was still the middle of the night, she wanted to do anything she could to prevent a messy diaper, since there was no chance she’d be changed anytime soon. Though it was not a common occurrence, she’d experienced enough overnight messes over the last 8 years to know that they were particularly unpleasant. The problem was, there were very few options available to Jackie. There was no way she could climb out of her crib, and despite the relaxed rules here at Lauren and Katie’s house, nobody would be letting her out of her crib. And simply waiting until morning didn’t seem like a likely solution. For years now, she’d had no control at all over her bladder. With her bowels, it was a little different: At least by her standard (not realizing that she was going until she already was or even already had), she’d never exactly had a messy accident. However, depositing each and every poop into the seat of her diaper for the past 8 years had not been without its consequences. Because she was going to be messing eventually, she usually just pushed things out as soon as she felt them coming on. Her diet of baby food and formula meant that she could usually have a soft mush out in just a couple of minutes, and in most circumstances just getting the humiliating task over with was the fastest route to a change. That approach meant she never really held back for very long any more. And, when the time came to do so, she found that she really had only a minimal amount of time before she had to give in to the pressure and mess anyways. Lacking other options, Jackie knew that she needed to try to avoid the mess, and the only way to do that would be to fall back asleep. She wasn’t positive that that would work, since the need to go had already woken her up, but she had had a few times where she’d thought she’d noticed a little bit of an avalanche building in her stomach, only to manage to fall asleep and make it until morning before soiling her pants. Those might have just been a little bit of gas, but she had to pin her hopes on something. Heck, even if she could buy herself another hour or so, that might be the difference between a rash or not on the back end. Jackie knew enough to know that just wishing herself to fall asleep probably would only make things work, so she searched her surroundings for any sort of distraction she could find. Though she’d been over the twins’ house before, it had only ever been for relatively short playdates. She’d napped in this room a few times, but never slept in it until the previous night, and had previously not dedicated a whole lot of energy to looking around. Lit by the soft glow of a pastel pink night light on the far wall, the room seemed about what one would expect out of a nursery. Most of the features pretty closely mirrored her own, though the changing table was larger to allow both babies to be on it at the same time if necessary and practical, and there were probably even more diapers than in her room to accommodate the extra resident. The mobile over her head was predictably uninteresting, and while she’d noticed yesterday that there was a family portrait that hung on the wall over the changing table, the poor light and the angle she had from her crib meant that she couldn’t really make it out to examine that further. Indeed, the only thing that seemed particularly interesting or dramatically out of line with her own room was the fact that there was a second crib. She looked over at the two girls who were somewhat crammed into the twin-sized crib. They were both lying on their sides, perhaps because that afforded them the most space to sleep. Jackie would have felt a little bad that they were forced to share if she’d had any say in coming here at all. Mama had had a death in the family that required her to drive out of the state for a few days, and though Jackie suspected that the decision was mostly logistical instead of merciful, she had decided that bringing her adult baby along wasn’t an option. Normally, she’d just have dropped her off at her biological parents’ house, but they were currently out of the country on vacation, and so Mama had turned to her network of friends who themselves kept infantilized adults for help. Miss Julia and Kevin, Lauren and Katie’s “mommy and daddy,” had apparently been either the first or only people who said they’d take an extra for a few days, and so Jackie had found herself hurriedly packed up and brought over for an extended Wednesday to Sunday visit. Despite having been here a couple of days now, Jackie had only a little more understanding of the two sleeping girls that she was looking at through the bars of her crib. Here in the middle of the night, Lauren wasn’t wearing her glasses, and so Jackie had no idea which twin was which. They were so identical to the untrained eye that they even seemed to be sucking their pacifiers in perfect unison. Jackie could really only see their faces, but they sure looked peaceful. And with their bodies obscured by the blankets, you could forget that they were way too large to be in a crib in the first place. Jackie hadn’t actually ever looked at another adult sleeping in a crib, since she was usually the one inside of one, but she had to admit that she was surprised at how natural it all seemed from the outside. She’d always assumed that this was just another way that their existence was a total farce – after all, she’d seen how universally silly she and her playmates looked while being led through the rest of their ridiculous daily rituals by their caregivers, with the clothes and sized up furniture always adding to the humiliation of their babyish activities without ever for a second making anyone forget that these were not real babies at all. She had always assumed this was part of the point. Maybe the goal wasn’t actually to twist the knife of humiliation a little bit more by reminding the girls that they could never hide the adults that they weren’t allowed to be; never pass off the humiliation as not real because they were just babies, but it certainly had that effect on Jackie. But seeing the two sleeping girls, she actually saw babies. At least at night, there was no humiliation on their faces, only a tranquility that seemed to be very real. Was she like this when she slept? She often felt that sleep was the closest she ever got to escape. When she dreamt, it was often just an extenuation of her current life, which made sense with her second babyhood occupying all of her time and most of her mental energy. But sometimes she’d still dream of a different life – one where none of this had happened. And those dreams (especially the ones that didn’t end with her embarrassing herself by somehow revealing herself to be the big baby she was treated as when she was awake) were the best dreams, even if they could be the hardest to wake up from. But did sleep make her look like the baby that the world went to such great lengths to tell her she was? She couldn’t tell if the thought made her feel like sleep was even more of the escape that she thought of it as, or if even that escape was just another way to further her humiliation. All of these thoughts were interesting, but another cramp emphasized how little they were doing to help Jackie achieve her goal of falling asleep. If anything, her mind seemed more awake, and her body seemed like it was about to betray her. Both cramps that she’d experienced in the last few minutes were pretty significant, and her stomach was now churning so ominously that she was struggling to comfortably lie still in the crib. Jackie sensed that the next cramp would be her last. She probably could fight on another cramp or two, but eventually she’d get tired of it, and she knew that she couldn’t make it until morning. Besides, she had a sort of pride about having never had a full-blown messy accident. Recognizing that she’d lost control over her bladder had been a source of major mental anguish, even if she knew at some level that she was hardly to blame. In moments of reflection, she might concede that she had some doubts about exactly how much control she had over her bowels, but she held tight to the defense mechanism. Not having an accident was sort of a last vestige of adulthood that she could hang her hat on. She’d rather give in and mess deliberately before she strictly had to than test her limits and risk shredding the last bit of confidence she had left. When the next cramp came just a few moments later, Jackie gave a gentle push instead of the frantic clench she’d employed each of the last two times. Immediately, a relatively small, just-barely-cohesive log quickly breached her sphincter and pushed up against the back of her sodden diaper. Even in moments like these where Jackie could move around relatively easily and there was nothing pushing or pulling her diaper tighter than it was naturally taped, pooping in a diaper was a pretty disgusting experience. Though this turd was soft and not very long, it seemed like it instantly met the resistance of the diaper’s back panel. That pressure caused the poop to smush into itself, quickly becoming wider. Soon, Jackie’s crack immediately around her anus was full of goo, and there was more external pressure as she finished with the initial push, which created the unpleasant sensation of not quite feeling like her sphincter was fully closed even as she finished straining. If this had been one of Jackie’s rare firmer messes, it might have reluctantly slid its way down the back in one piece, temporarily holding its form and wedging itself between Jackie’s lower butt cheeks, where it would stay until it was either pushed further down into direct contact with Jackie’s already urine-soaked vagina, front, and eventually wider diaper area by a next piece or else slowly have been jostled around by Jackie’s inevitable movements until it became more of a smeared blob that seemed to cement itself to Jackie’s crack. One wasn’t actually better than the other, as evidenced by the fact that Jackie usually wished that she had done the opposite of whatever she just had. Though it would already be an entirely unpleasant way to spend the rest of the night, Jackie could immediately tell that she was nowhere near finished. In fact, her stomach felt literally no relief as yet. Having broken the seal and beginning her discomfort, now she was committed to silencing her stomach and seeing if she could find a way to get back to sleep. Plus, she knew her limited control and churning stomach weren’t really going to give her much of a choice anyways. She gave a second push, this one with more deliberate effort than the first, cramp-aided thrust. There was little reward at first, although the effort did seem to slide any last remaining bit of the first poop out of her hole and allow it to feel more fully closed as she paused her efforts briefly and took a deep breath. Just as she had prepared herself for another go, a soft but audible gurgle from her stomach let her know that it was ready for her to begin again as well. Her eyes closed as she gave her most effort yet, and this time she was rewarded with much more than she had anticipated. Accompanied by a rather loud, and clearly wet, noise that didn’t seem to have enough air to strictly be called gas, Jackie felt an absolute torrent of runny diarrhea escape into her diaper, almost immediately coating her entire crotch with a wet film and creating a steaming warm pool of waste in between her legs that gravity helped stretch almost to her left hip. As she tried to assess whether her diaper was containing everything, another almighty rumble raced through her abdomen and Jackie automatically pushed a second wave that seemed every bit as big as the first to add to the fetid horror in her underwear. Exhausted, Jackie unconsciously rolled onto her back. She felt the warm, clumpy puddle shift down with her, pooling now in the back half of her diaper, and immediately she could tell that some amount of the liquid was rushing further up her back than her diaper could contain. There was nothing she could really do – despite being tightly diapered by Miss Julia before bed, there was an inevitable gap between the diaper’s plastic backing and the small of her back. Once she’d overwhelmed the diaper’s absorbing capacity, her only chance would have been to be standing, which hadn’t happened to be the case. She could tell that the back of her onesie was now coated with the same wet mess that filled her pants, and was sure that the bed sheets must be as well. The light wouldn’t help her see much, and she didn’t want to put her hands back there, but she assumed it was a horrible scene. She had really ruined everything, and to make things worse, it wasn’t even her bed! Come morning, she was sure Miss Julia would be quite upset, and she could only imagine she’d be in for a heavy round of humiliation and possibly even a punishment. She had experienced a few wet leaks before, but this was different. Her very standardized diet and minimal contact with the outside world meant that diarrhea was very rare, and she’d never experienced it while lying down before. Standing or sitting up, gravity could help to contain things in the seat of her pants for long enough for some more absorption to happen and for someone to realize what had happened and help her get a change. Without that, she was left lying here, feeling thoroughly gross and totally helpless. She took stock of her situation, trying to decide if there was any way that she could get comfortable for the rest of the night. She wasn’t sure, but her assumption was that the diaper would eventually be able to absorb most of the pure liquid that had escaped her, which would at least prevent further leakage. Shifting slightly, she could tell that much of that absorption had already occurred. Even with the risk of further leakage subsiding by the minute, she was left with two uncomfortable realities that were unlikely to go away any time soon. The first was the state of her diaper, onesie, and bedsheets. The mess was cooling unpleasantly, and seemed to be turning into a cold, sticky layer that was touching every corner of her diaper area, with plenty of nasty little clumps thrown in for good measure. Further, her wet-with-diarrhea onesie was clinging to her back, pressed up against her by sheets that she knew had barely fared any better in the previous few minute’s avalanche. The other problem was the smell. The initial nastiness of the mess itself had for a moment rendered the smell of what she had done irrelevant. But now, even a room with a diaper pail that did only a little to hide that it held several dirty diapers, what Jackie had done was literally overpowering. Even if she could turn out all of the rest of discomfort, that smell was so bad that she wondered if she’d ever fall back asleep. Gingerly, she tried to shift to a position where at least the parts of her that weren’t in contact with her diaper might be more or less comfortable. She slowly turned back onto her side, and slid herself slightly closer to the bars of the crib so that she was outside of the wet patch that she’d created on the sheet. It wasn’t much, but it was better. Jackie still wished for sleep, but knew that it would take a minute. This was truly the messiest diaper she’d ever experienced. She wondered how this could have happened, and how she could have been so unlucky as to have it happen while she was in a stranger’s house. She supposed it wasn’t really surprising in retrospect. Apparently, on Thursday nights, her hosts had a tradition in which they broke out of their mommy/daddy/babies relationship and all had a more normal dinner. It had been explained to Jackie that afternoon that the twins got to pick what was on the menu, usually got to cook it if they wanted, and that the meal was used as a way for everyone to check in, talk about the week, and make sure that everyone was happy. Jackie had been pretty stunned when she heard about it, as nothing of the sort happened in her normal life. And even if Mama had asked her questions like that, she was pretty sure that the answers would only be used to further her misery. Instead, it had quickly been explained to her yesterday morning as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Further, as the guest, she’d been asked if she’d like to choose what they would have for dinner. That had been an absolutely overwhelming choice for her, and when Miss Julia had told her, her immediate reaction had been to ask what her options were. Miss Julia had laughed, and said that anything that they could buy or make within a few hours would be fine with everyone. That was nice, Jackie was sure, but when you’d only eaten baby food for the past 8 years, and not so much as picked out your own clothes even once over that time either, that was an almost impossibly wide set of options. She’d found herself wracking her brain a little bit, wondering what she should do with this golden opportunity to have whatever she wanted after so long. The strangest thing was that she wasn’t even having trouble choosing so much as she was having trouble coming up with options. Her bedtime at home was 7 PM, and she was always fed before bath time, which functionally meant that there was not any overlap between her meals and those that Mama and her boyfriend would eat after she went to bed. Sometimes as she was falling asleep she’d detect some great smells, but they were never for her, and she didn’t even really know what they were. She detested the baby foods that she was subjected to, but without getting used to their terrible tastes, she had gotten used to the idea of meals as things you simply got through, and she didn’t exactly crave more normal foods the way she had in earlier years of her babyhood. Her indecision almost got to the point where it was embarrassing her. Finally, she decided to just try to go for foods she remembered missing during those early years. The two that came to mind were pizza and chicken parmesan. Pizza seemed easy, but she decided that maybe she should take this opportunity to make the more sophisticated choice and went with chicken parmesan. Miss Julia had said that that sounded great, and, for a while, that seemed to be that. They’d gone through the remainder of the morning with the girls all playing at various dumb baby games and then endured a normal baby food lunch – although Jackie noted that since they didn’t mix varieties here, the food was simply unappetizing as opposed to disgusting. After that, the three girls had been herded off to nap time. But it was after that nap-time that things had taken a turn outside of what she expected. After a quick round of diaper changes for both Jackie and Katie (Lauren hadn’t been wet enough to need one), Miss Julia’s tone had changed pretty much entirely. “Alright,” she’d said, “Jackie requested chicken parm for dinner, so we probably need about an hour and a half to make that. So everyone has about 2 hours to themselves. Girls, your phones and your books are both in the office.” Although Jackie was baffled, the twins clearly knew exactly what that meant. Lauren, who’d been seated with her legs over the lowered side of the crib she’d just shared with Katie, had taken out her pacifier and set it on the pillow, then jumped down and walked calmly out of the room. Katie had jumped off of the changing table and followed right behind her, not bothering to remove her pacifier. The two of them were both wearing relatively simple t-shirts, diapers, and socks, and while they seemed to now have the run of the place, neither had bothered to change out of those outfits. Jackie had been seated at the very top of changing table, having been situated over there by Miss Julia after her wet diaper had been changed so that she would be out of the way of Katie’s change. She was still wearing the dress she’d been in all day, as her Mama had only packed her clothes that were either clearly meant for nighttime and some of her fanciest (and most embarrassingly babyish) dresses, perhaps owing to the fact that the visit was a sort of extended playdate. Reflexively, she sought instruction. “Wut should me do now, Miff Juwia?” she’d asked from behind her pacifier in her exaggeratedly high-pitched voice. “Oh, right, I should explain,” Miss Julia said, sounding apologetic. “First of all, from now until bedtime, you can just call me Julia, ok?” Jackie was a little stupefied, but gave a slight nod. She’d later found that that was a somewhat difficult task, because after knowing her as “Miss Julia” for two years, that was her name in her mind and it was difficult to call her anything else. “Thursday afternoons are free time around here from after nap time until we start making dinner. Sometimes the girls will grab their phones and call their parents or text some friends or something, or sometimes they will read a book or whatever. I guess you don’t have any of that with you though. Hmm…why don’t you come with me? Would you like to watch a movie?” “Umm, otay,” Jackie said. She didn’t have anything else in mind, and she hadn’t watched a movie in years, so that sounded pretty good to her. “Oh, you can take your pacifier out, too,” Miss Julia continued. “Katie probably didn’t remember to, but she probably will have by now. And you don’t need to use baby talk either.” With that, she had walked out of the room. Jackie reached up and took her pacifier out of her mouth, feeling more than a little naughty as she placed it next to the baby powder on the corner of the changing table. Still, she had had little time to dwell on it, as she needed to keep pace with Miss Julia despite her somewhat unstable legs. Fortunately, they only headed about 20 feet out to the living room, where Miss Julia got to busying herself with the remote control on the couch. Jackie sat down on the other side of the couch, soaking in the feeling of sitting on furniture like a normal person, as she normally was only on a couch when she was laying on her back to drink a bottle. “How about Frozen?” Miss Julia had asked, in a casual tone that Jackie could intuitively sense meant that it was a popular movie. “Ife neva heard of it,” she’d been forced to admit, with the admission made even more embarrassing by the fact that she’d automatically reverted to her lisp for the first half of her sentence. “Oh, well then I think you’ve gotta watch it,” Miss Julia had said, not missing a beat, even if she sounded more like she was talking to a 12 year old than a peer (or, in fact, a woman a little bit older than her). She’d started the movie for Jackie, and then left, presumably to go to tend to something more pressing. It had taken Jackie a few minutes before she processed that it was an animated movie that had been selected for her, and she wondered if it had been chosen because it wasn’t too mature. However, she had to admit that she was finding it enthralling, and soon Lauren and Katie had emerged from wherever they had been and were both watching the movie as well, which seemed to indicate that it wasn’t too boring. Sure enough, the movie proved much better than she’d anticipated at the start. Though it clearly was targeted towards children, it was much more mature than anything Jackie normally got to consume. She couldn’t tell for sure whether it was just the years of exclusively hearing stories targeted at children that couldn’t yet say their own names, but she felt like there was some real depth to the story. The other girls clearly knew it well, and had even unabashedly sang what seemed like the main song when it came on. Jackie had thought the song was a funny choice, since it seemed very sad to her, even if it was defiant. The twins, however, had seemed to feel like it was a total celebration, and had acted accordingly. Perhaps, she thought, if she’d known the movie better, she would have understood. After the movie was over, Miss Julia had emerged from another room and told both Jackie and then the twins that it was time to make dinner. At that point, Miss Julia had realized that maybe the dress that Jackie was wearing wasn’t all that appropriate for the task at hand. However, they ran into the problem of not having a natural alternative. Finally, they settled on having her take off her dress and put on an apron, which did provide her a degree of modesty as it covered her chest. Her diaper was still very exposed in the back, but the twins’ were as well, and Jackie was sometimes left topless at home, so this was hardly a major indignity in comparison. They’d all gotten to cooking together, with Katie, who seemed to be a pretty good cook, taking the de facto leadership of the kitchen. It quickly became apparent that Jackie was not well-practiced, so she was left the somewhat mindless job of mashing up the tomatoes to help make the sauce. Frankly, though, she didn’t mind at all, as she was able to sit. It was a little awkward, as the women around her chatted familiarly. For starters, there was no hint of the baby-mommy dynamic that had seemed entirely natural earlier this morning. They updated each other on family and friends, and talked a little about recent news. While the news could have been applicable to Jackie, she’d had no idea what people were really talking about. At first, they’d tried to politely invite her into the conversation, but Jackie was really struggling to make small talk, and eventually they’d mostly given up, which was a welcome relief. Jackie remembered that she sort of wished she’d had her pacifier, because then nobody would have expected anything out of her. The most awkward part, although it seemed positively mild given the current state of her diaper, was that she had messed herself just a few minutes before they were ready to get things onto the stove. As the smell had wafted around the room, Miss Julia had playfully asked “Alright, who was that?” In near perfect unison, both Lauren and Katie had denied that they were the source, also chuckling. But, with the two of them ruled out, they suddenly knew what had happened, and Jackie had felt them tense up a little. Although they clearly felt awkward, she’d been somewhat glad that her secret had come out, especially since she actually hadn’t been forced to explicitly claim the deed. Miss Julia had bailed her out by reacting fastest. “No problem at all,” she’d said in the same casual tone. “If you don’t mind, I should just finish breading these last couple of pieces of chicken so that we can put everything in the oven on time for Kevin to get home, and then I’ll check these two and change anyone who needs one.” In a sense, Jackie had been most relieved by that. She’d been pretty sure that she was still supposed to use her diaper, and would have needed help to get out of it to use a toilet, so she’d just gone ahead. It had seemed safest. But as soon as she’d done it, she’d realized that she was in a lot of trouble if she was expected to change herself. As much as she didn’t really want to be cleaned up by a near stranger, it seemed to beat the alternative. Soon enough, she’d been cleaned up, along with Lauren, who’d actually volunteered that she was now wet enough that she should change before dinner. In a way, it had seemed like her change was more awkward for her and Miss Julia, since they weren’t sure how much to slip back into mommy and baby mode during it, whereas Miss Julia and Jackie had not just been talking like two old friends and so switching back was less of a departure. By the time dinner had been ready, Kevin had gotten home from work, and they’d all sat down for dinner. The food itself was so incredible that Jackie was nearly brought to tears. She couldn’t be sure, but she felt like it was worthy of a high-end restaurant. But it was more than taste. Just to chew her food for once was amazing, and to actually enjoy a bite as it went down. She knew she was barely containing herself, but she couldn’t help but go back for seconds. There had even been wine, which she had most certainly not had since her forced regression. She was a little self-conscious that she’d wound up with a little sauce on her face, but nobody seemed to care that she was a little rusty with a fork and knife. Thinking back, Jackie wasn’t sure whether it was the richness of the food or perhaps the unexpected introduction of wine, but it seemed pretty obvious that the dinner had been her undoing. Her stomach had clearly not been able to make the sudden adjustment from the normal mush and milk that it was used to, and the fact that she had had a full-blown feast probably had only made things worse. Recognizing what had happened was alarming. She frequently comforted herself by telling herself that one day this would all be over, and she’d be able to go back to a normal life. She didn’t really have any hope that it would be any time in the near future, but she generally believed it. But, if even just eating a normal meal was going to have such horrible consequences, she realized, then perhaps she was further from being a functioning adult than she wanted to think. While she was slowly starting to feel her tiredness take over from her discomfort, Jackie wasn’t quite drowsy enough yet to fall asleep. Shifting slightly, she could tell that her back was still pretty gross, and that it was arguably getting worse as it dried. Her diaper was beyond hopeless, but she was somewhat used to spending time in horrible diapers. She didn’t need to sleep in messy diapers very often, but it had happened enough times that she at least knew it was possible. Her only question was whether she’d wake up with a rash in the morning, although, unless it was closer to morning than she thought, in this case that seemed pretty unavoidable. Once again, Jackie found herself examining the sleeping twins. It had been strange to watch the two of them at dinner. Like during the cooking, Jackie had been brought into the conversation a little for the sake of being polite, but it was clear that the dinner conversation came with a real agenda: the girls and their “parents” were there to discuss how the week had went, and whether anything was needed changing in their relationship. The conversation had proven incredibly foreign to Jackie. Not only was she quite positive she’d never have an equivalent conversation with Mama, but she’d never say some of the things that these girls were saying. For starters, they’d said that the last week had been pretty good overall. That, on its own, was pretty mind-boggling to Jackie, but as the conversation had continued, she’d only felt more out of touch. The girls were asked if there was anything that they wanted to change about the previous week, and Lauren had voiced a minor complaint that during times when they were all home she and Katie had been left to their own devices too much. It seemed like she actually wanted to be forced to do more babyish things, which Jackie couldn’t believe. While it could be boring, she always wished there would be more times when she’d just be left alone in her playpen. Most of the time, even if she was left in a room by herself, a baby monitor was left in there as well, and Mama would expect to be able to hear her playing. The only time she ever felt like she could just be on autopilot was when she was having a bottle or breast feeding, and even then, if she was being fed a bottle on the couch she was supposed to always be playing with her own feet as if she found them incredibly interesting. Having to maintain her role, even when no one was really watching, was mentally exhausting, and she couldn’t understand how these girls could even come close to asking to be forced to do it more. Throughout the dinner, it had been clear to Jackie that her presence was making everyone just a little less comfortable than they otherwise would have been. It was pretty clear that this was a conversation that normally took on a pretty set course each week, but Jackie sensed that it was actually important to each of them. And for it to really work, it probably needed to not have a visitor present. Still, they seemed committed to having it, but Jackie felt like maybe they were holding back a little bit. It also seemed like nobody was quite sure how to include her. She’d felt a little awkward watching everything unfold, so they probably felt a little awkward too. She’d tried to mostly just focus on the food, which was truly delicious, but it hadn’t helped with anyone’s perception of her as a fifth wheel. Every once in a while, either Miss Julia or Kevin would try to find a way to ask Jackie a question as well, but it was never very natural. After all, questions about her week were not really too applicable. Instead, they’d asked if she was enjoying her visit. She’d answered truthfully, that it was going better than expected, especially with the dinner. It was extra awkward to be babied by what amounted to strangers, but otherwise these people were far nicer than Mama was. Still, Jackie hadn’t opened up much more, for fear that fully honest answers would only increase everyone’s discomfort. She knew that this was only sort of the same thing as what she experienced at home, and she could tell that everyone else knew too. It wasn’t that she was impossibly out of place, but there was nothing that could be done tonight that would bridge that divide. In a few days, she’d be going home, and that would be worse for her, but since it wasn’t going to change, it didn’t feel like there was even a way to discuss it. The only time that Jackie had fully engaged had been near the end of the dinner, when she’d been asked how she’d liked the movie. For once, she felt like there might be an opportunity for her to really participate in the conversation. She’d liked the movie overall, and she’d said as much, but then she took the opportunity to ask the girls a question that had been on her mind since it had ended. “What was it about that song you guys liked so much?” she’d asked, hoping they’d know what she meant despite not being sure of the name. “Oh, Let It Go?” Lauren had asked. “It’s just so great. You hadn’t heard it before?” “Well, no,” Jackie answered. “What about it do you like? I thought it seemed kind of sad, but the two of you seemed like you were really excited about it.” “Hmm,” Lauren said, pausing for a second to consider the question. “Well, I’m thinking about what I feel when I hear it - I guess it feels like a song about just being who you are. And for me and Katie, that is a little…different. But I guess I just like the idea, you know? Like, I felt so much pressure to have a big job and everything, but I didn’t really want that. I wanted to have a job that made ends meet and to be able to just kind of explore this side of myself. A lot of people would think that was crazy, but when I hear that song, it’s just sort of like: ‘Go for it. Who cares what other people think.’ Which is just awesome. You know, it’s like, ‘be you. Be awesome!’” “Yeah,” Katie had chimed in. “Honestly, I’m curious what even seems sad to you. I think it is such a release of a song, and it happens at such a good part of the movie.” Jackie had recognized the question as genuine, but had still felt a little defensive. It had been so long since anyone had asked her to explain her opinion, and she was finding it hard to find the words. “Well,” she’d said, “I guess I’ve only heard it once, but to me it seemed like it was a song about hiding yourself. Maybe I was just listening mostly to the first part, but it seemed like it was all about the rules you have to follow, and how you just sort of are trapped by them. I guess I get that it’s cool that she is deciding that she can be who she wants to be, but she’s a princess with superpowers. Not everyone can just decide that they want things to be different and just go ahead, let that go and make them different. I guess maybe I let it go too, but it feels a little different. Like, at home, it’s better for me if I just let it go and don’t think about it too much. If I do, that makes it harder, and sometimes it makes me act up, and then I am more likely to get in trouble.” She was getting a little upset, which she hadn’t expected, and she didn’t know where all this was going, so she’d stopped. This was the level of transparency she’d been avoiding, and she felt sure she’d been right to try to steer clear. She could tell that her hosts weren’t sure what to say, and also that they weren’t going to keep talking about the song anymore. When Lauren finally spoke it had seemed like she was flailing a little. “I think, maybe, we are hearing different things because we are having different experiences,” she said, seeming almost like she was about to cry. “I hope someday you hear it our way.” Jackie had accidentally brought the conversation to a close, and a few minutes later they had all cleaned up and the girls were brought back into the nursery. With a round of fresh diapers and the reinsertion of their pacifiers, they’d officially resumed their baby roles and been tucked in for the night. The way the conversation had gone had reinforced for Jackie that she believed that the girls were genuine. She really couldn’t understand it, but they must like this. They really did seem to have a choice, even if during the week they gave up a tremendous amount of control. She had kind of always thought that they were crazy, at best, and losers, at worst. But maybe she wasn’t quite right. They were weird, but that might not be the worst thing you could be. She almost laughed. Even if she hadn’t been in the dirtiest, most uncomfortable diaper she’d ever worn, this would be a nightmare for her. And there they were, sleeping as if they didn’t have a care in the world. People could be funny, she supposed. --- Though she hadn’t really noticed falling asleep, Jackie could remember some wild dreams, all of which were really nightmares. The worst, as far as she’d been concerned, was the last one she’d remembered. She’d been at dinner with the family again, and she’d told all that she didn’t want to do this anymore. All at once, all of them had burst into laughter, not controlling themselves even when Jackie asked what was so funny. Finally, Miss Julia had composed herself, and with some of the kindness in her voice gone, explained. “You don’t get it, do you? You really are just a baby now. You couldn’t stop even if you had a choice!” With that, the whole room had burst into laughter again, and Jackie had suddenly become conscious that her diaper had leaked onto the chair at the kitchen table. --- To be continued...

Note: All characters are meant to be depicted as over 18. This story is fictional. It involves non-consensual diapering, blackmail, attempted sexual abuse, and spanking, so proceed cautiously. I wrote this somewhere around 1995, posting it in a chatroom board called alt.sex.fetish.diapers. Then I got busy with medical residency and raising a young family. In the decades since, there have apparently still persisted some abridged copies of it around the web. I guess posting it here is an attempt to preserve the original story. It has been revised now that spell-check exists, but the dark plot lives on, so ABs may want to look elsewhere. Back then, there were still paper medical charts and mercury thermometers, and “personal” grooming was uncommon (or at least not talked about). It was before chastity devices were widely available or affordable. It takes place just before the internet and cell phones revolutionized both communication and shopping for diapers. It was also before there were diaper companies that catered to the ABDL community. This story is about a company that would have been pioneers in the field, but not in a good way… Chapter 1 Doug Easton paused, as he often did, as he entered The Drugstore. Did he really want to do this? He was twenty-eight years old, and had a lot to lose if he was caught. After several years of working on Wall Street after college, he’d decided that he wanted to switch gears totally and get into a basic science graduate program, get his Ph.D. and teach or do research or something interesting and not so stressful. Doug had come to this mid-sized town on the eastern seaboard because it had such an excellent program. He’d taken the pre-reqs and gotten a job in the lab where he wanted to work as a grad student, as a way of networking his way into a position in the program. It was now October, and he’d worked for several months now. It looked very promising. He simply had to take the GRE’s on Saturday, a week from today, and do well enough not to embarrass himself, and the odds were that he would be accepted for the following year. He had a lot riding on getting in, since he’d sacrificed so much to get to this point. It would be horrible to screw it up now. But he’d shopped for diapers to satisfy his part-time fetish for so many years now, he knew he had little to fear. No one yet had bothered him or asked him to explain his purchases. He’d never run into anyone important. When he’d started buying disposable diapers in pharmacies several years ago, he’d always been sure to have a good story on hand in case the cashier got curious. He could never decide whether to use the one about having a sick grandparent or the riskier and more embarrassing one about having an intermittent medical problem. But he’d never had to use a story: no one had ever asked why he was buying the diapers. This always disappointed him in a way, as part of the fun of buying the diapers was the implied humiliating nature of the purchase. Later, as he got bolder, he would heighten his excitement by shopping for diapers or pads while wearing one, and he was careful to make it not so obvious that anyone would notice (he thought) but that if given a clue (e.g. shopping in the incontinence section) another shopper or a clerk might put the crinkly sound together with the bulge and the slight waddle. And still no one ever commented or even looked at him strangely, so he’d long since assumed that people were simply too self-absorbed and not observant enough. Some of the thrill of the purchase had departed for him; today he hadn’t even bothered with wearing a diaper. He put any nervousness he had aside and stepped further into the store. What he saw amazed him. The incontinence section was larger than any Doug had ever seen. Instead of being set off by itself in a little corner of the store, it was smack in the middle. As he cautiously approached it, he could see shelves of large, plump plastic bags awaiting him, and he felt that familiar excitement. The aisles were wide, and the intervening shelves fairly short, so as he entered the first aisle he was acutely aware of how visible he was. He was in plain view of the rest of the store, and felt a little more vulnerable than he liked. He looked around, though, and no one else seemed to be around, not even sales people. He wondered briefly how such a large store could stay in business. He should have given it more thought, as it turned out. He shook off his nerves, and went about his routine of cataloguing the store’s inventory in his head. In most stores this was easy-no more than two brands of diapers, and usually the same two everywhere. But here, the supply was vast, with many brands of which he had never even heard. He was disoriented, and, in the end, completely startled when his reverie was interrupted by a female voice behind him. “Can I help you?” He whirled around, and saw a lady in her late fifties with a kind-looking face and a helpful expression. “What?” he stammered. “I said, can I help you, young man?” she repeated. “Oh,” he said, too threatened to think clearly. “No. Thank you. I’m, uh, fine.” But she was persistent, to his surprise and dismay. “Is there anything I can help you find?” “No, no,” he said, trying to be nonchalant. “I’m just…looking around.” He only realized after he said it how ridiculous that sounded in an incontinence section. He blushed a bright red. But she smiled warmly, as if she’d heard this before. She stepped closer to him and lowered her voice, though the store was still empty. “Sir, there are only two reasons why anyone ever shops in this section. One, they are looking for a specific item, or two, they have a specific problem they need to solve… Okay? Now, you look a little embarrassed to be here and perhaps anxious to get out in a hurry. Am I right?” He nodded as if in a trance. This had never happened before, he was dazed, and he had no idea where this was all headed. She smiled in response and touched his arm. “All right, well, I can help you do either thing faster and more efficiently, so that you can leave sooner,” she said conspiratorially. “If you need to find a certain item, I can show you quickly where it is, so you can make your purchase and get out. Do you know exactly what you need?” He realized that she wanted the specific brand name of a product. He wasn’t sure, of course, what they had, or even what he wanted to walk out of here with. So he said, truthfully, “Not really.” She then smiled another smile, one that was intended to give him moral support for whatever problem she figured he’d just discovered he had. “In that case, I can be of even more help. I can show you what we have, tell you what the differences are, and we can decide together what product will best suit your needs.” She was walking toward a section labeled, “Adult Incontinence”. “Now, I don’t have to tell you how important a custom fit is when it comes to wetting: I know you want a product that will always keep you dry. I guess we both know that accidents are even more embarrassing than shopping for diapers. Am I right?” she asked, nodding sympathetically. He found himself nodding along with her, since that’s what she clearly wanted him to do, even as he wondered how she knew what accidents were like, and even though he had never had an “accident” that wasn’t on purpose. He was starting to feel many different and conflicting emotions: he was definitely curious how this encounter might turn out, but he was also petrified at the thought of admitting to anyone an interest in diapers. And under it all ran a strong current of sexual excitement and more than a little tinge of humiliation. But then, he reminded himself, that’s why he was here. He decided to go with the flow and see where the tide took him. It was a decision he would later regret. “So let me orient you to the different levels of protection we have. Then we can decide what level will be best for you and take it from there.” This idea produced some anxiety, but he had never acted on his fantasy like this, and all he could think about was how this would provide him excellent fantasy fodder for weeks to come. He tried to settle himself down and act calm. Turning, and indicating a smaller package, she said, “There are three levels, generally, of protection. Most people with your…problem…” and here he blushed again, “find that the first level, pads or guards like these, is all they need. It just tapes into your underpants, and you often can’t even notice it’s there.” He smiled to himself and wondered what good that would do him! “But it can protect you against the little accidents a lot of people have, but not if you wet heavily,” she explained. “Is this the sort of product you might need?” she asked, nodding again, and clearly expecting him to again nod back. And he was half tempted to say yes, because her references to his “little problem” were growing very embarrassing for him. But if he bailed out now, not only would he be wasting his money, but he wouldn’t be able to return in the future to this beautiful store for what he really wanted. This older lady was clearly the keeper of the diapers, and if he wanted to shop here, he’d obviously have to do it in her company. He looked away, frowned, and shook his head slightly in some shame. She was a little surprised, and was tempted to glance down at his shorts for evidence that he was wearing anything more substantial than pads. She knew what to look for, but hadn’t yet with him because she’d assumed, since he looked young and healthy, that his problem was minimal. And maybe it still was. So instead of examining him with her practiced eye, she just went on. This guy was very probably insecure, and didn’t need something bulkier. But perhaps by describing them to him, she could steer him away from wearing something that was too noticeable. “Well, of course. But the next level is a type of pull-up, like small children wear. Companies call them ‘underwear’ but they are really a type of pull-on diaper. These are usually not too bulky, and they’re quiet. Most people wouldn’t be able to tell you are wearing one. Mostly, I see elderly folks buying these, not young healthy men. “One of the downsides to using this type of product is that, if you are out and about and need a change because of an accident, you’d have to take off your shoes and pants to put a dry one on. But it can hold more than a pad.” She paused and looked at him, wanting him to get the point. “You see what I mean? It’s a big step up, and maybe more than you need. As I said, the vast majority of wetters just need a pad or guard. Want to try one of those?” He felt the weight of her pressure, but he was too close now. His mind whirled with what she might infer. “No, actually, could you go over the third level?” he nearly whispered to the floor. This time he saw her instinctively glance at his shorts, obviously looking for signs of a diaper under his clothes. But there was nothing. If he was incontinent enough to need a full diaper, why was he not wearing protection now? She allowed a concerned look to cross her face, and she wondered how this could be happening again, with another young man. Her tone now tinged with a little frustration, she said, “Well, the third level is the brief, or the adult diaper. And they are for invalids, mostly. They are taped on with refastenable tapes and worn just like a baby diaper.” As she said this, she realized how much she wanted this obviously functional man to buy something else. “They usually have a strip to tell people if you’re wet or dry, just like for babies, and the legs have elastic gathers to stop leaks. I’ll admit that they are the only product that offers total protection, either for heavy wetting or for bowel control problems. But as you can see, these ‘briefs’ are really reserved for someone who is completely diaper-dependent, and not for someone with...an apparently good quality of life.” She took a breath. She was wound up. She had to give this guy good advice. If he was a regular diaper-wearer, well, that would be different, but this healthy, currently-undiapered young man shouldn’t need big babyish protection. “You see, they are almost always visible under your clothing. Diaper-wearers are simply unable to conceal them well enough. Some people may deny it, but I’m here to tell you I can always spot 'em. Plus, you’d have to waddle a little with any of the diapers I’d sell you, and it is fairly obvious to a trained eye. And then there’s the give-away sound: nothing sounds like a diaper.” She paused again. Maybe she’d gone too far. Some people did need this protection, and it worked for them. But she did feel strongly about fitting the right product to the right customer. She composed herself, and went on, “So you see, you are looking for the least bulky product that will still do the job. Which will it be, so we can get you out of here?” He had endured the lesson with patience and a bit of excitement. Based on what this lady had said, maybe diapers WERE visible and audible to other people. Maybe he SHOULD have been more humiliated to wear them out. He’d have to think about that. But meanwhile, he had to end this. He glanced at her quickly and forced out the words he’d been destined to say. “I think I, uh, probably need to, um, get the briefs.” He stared very hard at the floor. She blinked. "Really? Are you sure? Most people either pick pads or guards. Briefs are the diapers, and you only wear them if you have bowel control problems or very bad bladder control problems. When he didn’t answer, she clarified, “I only ask because, if you really needed diapers, you wouldn’t just walk into a store without one on. I can see that you are not wearing a brief right now,” she explained with a pointed look toward his crotch that made him blush. He coughed. This was getting more and more embarrassing. “I really think I need the briefs.” There was a long pause as she tried to divine what was going through his mind. “Is this, um, problem a relatively recent one?” she asked. He nodded hesitantly. He didn’t know where she was leading, and was unsure of what his “story” should be. He was really in virgin territory at this point. It was pretty exciting. “So you haven’t tried a lot of these products, have you?” she said, thinking she was beginning to understand. He nodded again, deciding that could make sense. It would explain why he didn’t know what he wanted. “No, I thought not,” she said, smiling and with compassion. “A beginner. So let’s talk about your needs. Now,” she said, wanting to pin this boy’s problem down a little better, “what specific problem are we treating? Do you wet your pants?” Uh-oh, this was going to get detailed, he thought. Again he was torn: anxious about having a believable story, but enthralled with the idea of a stranger thinking he needed diapers. Unfortunately for Doug, there was no way he could know this was the last person he should try to convince. He just nodded, unable to meet her eyes. Okay, okay, she thought. Now they were getting somewhere. “Oh, that’s all right, sweetie. It’s common, and I sort of figured as much, for otherwise you wouldn’t be here. I can help you. When you have an accident, is it a lot of leakage, or just a little at a time?” Doug knew what the answer must be to get diapers. He swallowed. “A lot.” She nodded, taking it in. “And what about messy accidents? Do you have problems with your bowels?” The silence hung heavy as he considered. He wasn’t sure if he needed to confess to this, too, or not. Maybe the heavy wetting would be enough? But in the end, he didn’t want to take the chance. Holy cow, he thought, this was indeed humiliating. He dropped his eyes again and nodded. A grown man, admitting that he messed his pants. He felt all of two years old. And not surprisingly, there was a long silence afterward, as she tried to judge whether or not to believe him. That would certainly be serious if true. “Have you seen a doctor?” she asked with concern. “Yes,” he said, having to clear his throat first. He still couldn’t look at her. “He, um, said it would take a couple months until we, um, got it all worked out, so he sent me here.” “Oh,” she said, seeing this in a much different light. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?” This boy did need some serious protection. “Hmmmm. Are you wearing anything at all right now under your pants?” He froze, realizing that his not wearing a diaper out now seemed sort of stupid. But best be honest, he thought: I bet this lady could tell. “Nothing right now,” he said, trying to think quickly. “Well, I had some, but then I ran out.” She clucked at him reprovingly. This boy either wasn’t too bright or was irresponsible. That was a setup for a bad outcome. This lad needed her help. It seemed to her this was happening more and more to her. Since they had expanded their incontinence section, more and more younger men were wandering into her shop, and they seemed to need a strong hand. But that was fine: she knew how to take care of them, and if she couldn’t, she knew someone who certainly could. This boy clearly needed some direction. “Okay, well, we’ll get you all squared away, but first things first. With a problem like yours, we’ll need to get you into something right now so you don’t have an accident while we’re deciding, or on your ride home.” She paused to check his reaction. He looked a little uncomfortable with her apparently taking charge, but he didn’t say anything. And since this was really not the time to discuss who should make the decisions (she didn’t want to deal with an accident here), she went right on, in a maternal tone: “Someone who wets and messes his pants needs to wear a diaper all the time. All the time,” she repeated with emphasis. “Otherwise, you could have an accident right now, which would be more embarrassing and harder to clean up than a wet or messy diaper. So we need to put one on right now, without arguing. If you’re a good boy and put a diaper on, then we can talk afterward and decide what you’d like to wear in the future.” She watched him closely for signs of resistance. He was looking more uncomfortable, shifting his weight nervously, but he was not objecting. She went on. “Luckily, I always keep a couple samples in the back, for emergencies like this. You can use the storeroom to change.” Without waiting for a reply, she smiled, took his hand, and led him quickly to a door marked “Employees Only.” He looked a little alarmed but was still being compliant. In fact, though, Doug wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his composure. This was so much more than he’d ever actually dreamed could happen that he didn’t know what to feel. Excited, of course, but frightened. Would she diaper him? Was there anyone else in the back room? What was he getting himself into? No, he thought, that’s ridiculous. This is just an odd business transaction by a grandmotherly lady who is being misled. It’s funny and thrilling, but hardly dangerous. As he would later find, this was completely false. Some might argue that he could at this point still have escaped what was to happen to him, but this is probably not true. Nor is it even relevant. He had no inkling that with every complacent step he was getting closer and closer to the fearful prospect of having his lifelong fantasy become a lifelong reality. He needn’t have worried about one thing, though. She wasn’t planning on diapering him. As she walked him down a back hall to a doorway marked “CLEAN SUPPLIES,” she said, “Now do you put your own diapers on at home? You do? Okay, well, why don’t you try to put the brief on yourself, then, and see how you do.” She opened the door with one of many keys she had dangling from a large keychain, and led the way into the room. It was partially full with many crates and boxes such as you’d expect in a drugstore. She walked over to a shelf with several plastic packages on it and rummaged through them until she found one marked, “BRIEF, LARGE-ADULT DIAPERS,” from which she pulled a large plastic disposable. She also picked up a container of baby powder and brought both over to him. As he tentatively accepted them, she said, “Now I’ll just wait outside while you put it on. I don’t know what you do at home, but I recommend lots of powder. It’s hot out, and you’ll appreciate it later. When you’re done, just open the door, and I’ll come in and check to make sure it’s on correctly. That’s very important, you know. So come get me before you pull your pants up, okay?” She stepped out and closed the door before he could even respond, leaving him alone with a diaper and powder in hand. Once again he questioned himself about whether he wasn’t already in too deep. But it almost doesn’t matter, he thought to himself. She probably won’t even let me out of here now without a diaper. Holy shit! I’m way too good at lying for my own good. He sighed, and was about to unbuckle his pants when there was a sharp knock on the door followed by the lady poking her head in, and seeing him still dressed and holding the diaper, said, “Are you okay? Need help?” He shook his head firmly. She frowned slightly, and said, “Okay, but hurry it up. We can’t waste time with you not in diapers. I’ll check back in another minute or two, and if you’re not done, I’ll give you a hand.” She shut the door again. So now, of course, he hurried. He definitely wasn’t psychologically prepared today to be diapered by someone else. This as all too sudden. He unfolded the diaper and set it down on the cold cement floor. He hadn’t ever been able to put a diaper on standing up. So he unbuckled his pants and pulled them down around his ankles, and, glancing needlessly around, did the same to his underpants. He sprinkled the diaper with powder and then gingerly sat down on it. He pulled the diaper up between his legs, and quickly taped it rather haphazardly. It wasn’t a good job, but he wanted to be dressed again by the time the lady came back. He stood up and pulled up his underpants and pants over the diaper. The diaper fit well, and it was fairly bulky, though he’d made thicker ones for himself on occasion using pads for stuffers. As he was rebuckling his pants, she burst through the door unannounced. She appraised the new bulk between his legs, then strode over to him, saying, cheerfully, “Whoa! Slow down, cowboy! Let’s just check the job you did before you buckle up.” She reached toward his pants with purpose, brushing aside his hands, which had moved protectively toward his groin in a meek attempt to intercede. Before he knew it, his pants and underpants were back down around his ankles, and she was crouched in front of him examining his poor handiwork. He felt the blood drain from his head and began to feel dizzy. He felt like he should object, but he felt weak and sort of lost. He couldn’t think of anything to say in a moment like this. So he stood there as she inspected his diaper. “Hmmmm,” she commented. “At least it is on straight, and not backwards, but the taping leaves a bit to be desired. Hold this,” she said brusquely, as she undid the tapes on one side. She tightened and adjusted both sides, afterward slipping her fingers well inside the leg gathers on both sides to check the fit. He couldn’t help squirming a little, and had to be told to stand still. Finally she was satisfied, and showed him what she had done so he could do it better the next time. She was about to pull his pants back up for him when she saw his underpants, white briefs, around his ankles. She laughed. “Well, you hardly need those on now, do you? Let’s get those off so they don’t get all stretched out over the diaper, okay?” And without waiting for a response, she untied his shoes, had him slip them off, and pulled the pants and underpants off, then replaced the pants and shoes, even tying them for him. This made him feel more like a little boy than he had in a long time. “You said your wetting and soiling problem is only temporary, right? Well, then, we’ll let you have these back for several months down the line.” Humiliated as he’d never been before, he took his underpants from her and balled them up in his hand. His shorts pockets were now too tight for him to tuck them in there. He’d have to carry them home in his hand. Could this get more embarrassing? She didn’t notice his distress, however, for she was nearly out the storeroom door. “Come on,” she called. “Time to get you something for later.” He tried to follow at her speed, but found that this was a fairly thick diaper. The bulk made him waddle slightly, but he didn’t think it was that noticeable. When she got to the door back to the main store, though, she turned and watched him as she waited. He was pretty cute, she thought. Actually, she thought they were all cute the way they had to waddle like babies. And to be honest, she had to admit that part of her liked babying them: she loved the diapers, the powder and lotions, the smells, the mothering. Of course, that was not why she did it, and it was not why she’d set up the ICPs with Mrs. Warren. But it was part of what made it enjoyable for her. Anyway, she knew he’d be self-conscious, so she tried not to smile at his obvious struggle to walk normally. He reached her in a moment, and as they returned to the store, he glanced around nervously to see if anyone was there to notice the newly-diapered boy waddle in with his old underpants in hand. There was only an older man clear at the other end of the store; he probably couldn’t see this far. But then he noticed a tall brunette in the corner back and to the right, near the pharmacy. She looked like she was in her forties, was beautiful, but also strongly built. And she appeared to be watching him very closely. He thought he saw the older lady he was with catching the tall lady’s eye for a moment, and maybe even nod at her. But he wasn’t sure if he made that up. He sure could be self-conscious when he wore a diaper! He took one last look at the lady before he turned down the diaper aisle, and noticed a curl of a smile at one end of her mouth, as if she were amused. Could she tell he was wearing a diaper? Kind of a thrilling thought. She was pretty. But his attention was quickly drawn to the shelf his guide was presenting to him. This was where he had longed to be from the moment he had walked in the store. He longed to be left alone here to read the packages and look at pictures. But she was here, and very much in control of his shopping. “Okay, this shouldn’t be hard,” she said. “The most important thing is, is cost very important to you?” He nodded with conviction. He was a student, living on a student’s budget. She nodded back thoughtfully. “Well, then I think we’ll try you with a package of those generics you’re wearing. I thought the fit was good. Are they comfortable?” He nodded stiffly. He wasn’t used to discussing his diaper comfort with others. “Good. They are good diapers, just as good as the name brands, in my opinion. Try those, and see how they do for you.” She picked out a huge package of the generics-again he noticed the label, “BRIEF, LARGE-ADULT DIAPERS” in large block lettering on the side. That would be fun to carry to his car and inside his apartment. He took it from her, and followed her up to the cash register at the front of the store. He set the package on the counter as she rang it up, setting his underpants next to it on the counter for a moment, while he pulled out his wallet, careful to hunt for and pay with cash so that he wouldn’t leave a paper trail. She watched him find the correct change from the little change compartment in his wallet. He gave her the money, and she handed him a receipt. Then she leaned over the counter and said to him in that condescending tone again, “I think this will get easier for you with time. Now, I think these diapers will help you with your problem, but you’ve got to wear them all the time for them to help. You hear me?” She looked at him sternly. “All the time. See how you like them, and when you only have a few left-BEFORE you run out, come back in and we’ll get you some more.” He nodded obediently. Just needed to get out of here now. “Yes, ma’am, I will.” She was staring at him intently now. “But don’t come back in here without a diaper on, or I’ll do more to your bottom in that back storeroom than just put it in a diaper. Okay?” He nodded to her, his eyes widening. Was she...threatening to spank him? He’d had way too much “fun” for one day. Time to agree and get home. “Okay. Thank you. Have a good day.” He grabbed his hard-won purchase and underpants and left the store, only noticing once he was outside that she hadn’t even offered him a bag. As he walked away, he let out a deep breath. That had to have been the most amazing fantasy ever. And he’d navigated his way through it perfectly, coming away unscathed, with a bag of diapers to boot! Pretty good, he thought, for his first time to that store. For his ONLY time, he thought to himself. He’d not go there again. It was just too anxiety-provoking. But he’d done it today, and now he was safe. He did feel sorry for the lady whom he had deceived so perfectly, however. But only briefly. As she watched him waddle away from her, out to his car and climb in, Mrs. Sheffield reflected on the odd number of totally incontinent young men she had as clients. She’d noticed a preponderance of men as soon as Mrs. Warren had convinced her to stock more of the briefs, and it seemed that, as they continued to expand their product offerings, more and more came in. Most were fairly resistant to her intrusion, but she didn’t care. She was actually a very nice, compassionate older lady who always felt sorry, first and foremost, for her clients. But her experiences with a “late-blooming” son years before had convinced her that incontinence was a problem that needed to be treated. Her son had had several fairly public accidents in elementary school that had led to other kids making fun of him. She hadn’t wanted to diaper him, thinking that would make things worse, but as he grew and the teasing continued well past the time when he never wet his pants anymore, she began to blame herself for his being socially ostracized. She’d vowed to herself, though she hadn’t seen the implications for her drugstore business at the time, that if she ever found an opportunity to step in and help an incontinent person again, she would. At any age, she thought, diapering was far more benign than even occasional accidents, and she had seen the damage firsthand and had to live with the guilt. These days, she made sure that no incontinent boy left her sight without a diaper on, even if they objected. “They just don’t know,” she whispered to herself, “what the alternative is. Owning up to their need for diapers is the best thing they could do for themselves.” It was this attitude that made Mrs. Sheffield run her business the way she did. And it was this attitude, she couldn’t know, which had doomed many young men to lives of unhappiness and even far worse social isolation than she could have anticipated. But, then, at least her intentions were good. It was actually Mrs. Warren who was much more to blame. She looked down at the name and address she had copied down quickly as this latest boy had opened his wallet to pay her for what he thought was the last purchase he would make from her. He was wrong, of course, though he wouldn’t know this for several days. Doug. Doug Easton. He’d seemed nice. She wrote a note for herself to make sure she followed up on him. Nice boy, but he needed her. Chapter 2 On Monday, about two days and four diapers later, Doug was watching TV before bed, undiapered. He’d just finished a day of reviewing for his test on Saturday. He was bright, and the studying wasn’t too hard, so it actually left him with a lot of free time compared to his usual lab schedule. This was why he’d gone out for a new supply of diapers for this week: he had plenty of time to play. And though he didn’t like to wear diapers constantly, he was enjoying wearing one or two a day. His stressful trip to that drugstore had turned out to be worth it, he thought now. He’d just put his books away for the rest of the evening when his phone rang. He answered it. “Is this Doug?” The woman’s voice was vaguely familiar, but Doug couldn’t place it. The other day’s incident at the drugstore was the last thing on his mind. “This is Mrs. Sheffield, from the drugstore? I helped you with your incontinence products several days ago, remember?” He nearly dropped the phone. His mind went blank and his fingers started tingling. Even though he was seated, he felt faint. “Uh, yes, ma’am, I remember.” His mind slowly started to crank out questions: how had she found him? Why could she be calling? “Well, it’s nice to talk to you again. I’m calling to find out how your briefs have been doing since Monday.” His mouth was dry, which made it difficult to speak. “Oh,” he croaked. “Just fine.” He was speaking on autopilot now, trying to figure out how he’d been so foolish as to leave his phone number with her. But he hadn’t! He was sure. How had she tracked him down? Mrs. Sheffield could hear the anxiety in his voice, and knew she’d have to calm him down if her approach was to work. “I hope you don’t mind me calling. Ordinarily I ask before I contact clients at home, but I forgot this time. All I want to do, though, is a little product survey, if you don’t mind. Your opinions regarding our products are very important to us, and will be used to modify our product lines and what we carry. So, I’m sorry for the intrusion but I just have a couple of questions, and the answers from you, in particular, will be very valuable.” A product survey? he thought. That sounded interesting, and didn’t seem very threatening. He relaxed, and as he did, he began touching his stiffening penis through his pajamas. This could be fun. After all, he was tucked away safely in the privacy of his own home, far away from this scary lady. And this conversation again had tremendous fantasy potential for him. In addition, maybe he really could influence what diapers were made or carried. That alone was worth a little effort. But why him? This bothered him, so he asked. “Well, actually,” she replied, “you are important because of the nature of the problem you have. You see, we don’t have too many totally incontinent clients out there who can talk and who are active.” She was not exactly being truthful, she knew, but it was excusable because she was trying to help him. She went on describing why surveys were important. He was only half listening by the end. He was too fascinated by the opportunity he had been given. He’d always felt that store-brand adult diapers were woefully inadequate in many ways that were important to a diaper lover: not bulky enough, not noisy enough, not absorbent enough, and pathetic at containing bowel movements. He knew that the majority of truly incontinent adult probably didn’t want or need these obtrusive, humiliating qualities in their diapers, but wouldn’t it be great if there was at least ONE brand that was closer to the ideal? This might be the one chance he had to help all of adult babyhood attain what most thought was unattainable. He had to give a plug for a humiliating, babyish diaper. But he couldn’t make it sound too ludicrous. His mind was working overtime trying to anticipate questions and phrase his answers with subtlety and skill. She was just finishing some comment: “So, do you think you could just answer a few questions for me?” “Of course I could,” he answered confidently, but not wanting to sound too eager. “I’d be glad to help if I can.” She heard the change in his voice and wondered briefly what it meant. She was mostly happy he was going to cooperate. She was sorry she had to mislead him here, but, after all, it was for his benefit, and they would indeed use the information he gave her! “Oh, that’s wonderful,” she said out loud. “Could you start by telling me how many diapers you use in a day?” Time to check compliance. Fine, he thought, a usage question. He expected that. But he had to guess, since he was certainly not a full-time user! He didn’t want to be; part-time fantasy was enough. “About six, I’d say.” These were generic store-brand diapers; they didn’t take more than two wettings. That sounded right, but any idiot could guess. She’d slip in a couple more compliance questions later. “Okay, and of those, how many are messy and not just wet?” That was probably easy to estimate. “Well, one or two, I suppose.” Still okay, but these were the easy questions. “Uh-huh, fine. Now, I’ve seen how these diapers fit: pretty well, I think, but how do they feel? Are they comfortable? Scratchy? Sticky even when fresh? Do they chaff?” He actually hadn’t had a complaint over the perhaps six hours he’d worn them over two days. “Oh, they’re very comfortable. No problems.” “That’s good to hear. Do you have anyone at home to help change you?” That would be great! he thought wistfully, though only halfheartedly. He didn’t really think he wanted diapers to become that central to his life. “No, I live alone,” he said out loud. Good, Mrs. Sheffield thought. That simplifies things considerably. “Okay, well, let’s talk about wetness. How absorbent do they seem? Do you have problems with leaking with very wet diapers?” She didn’t even notice she was using the “d” word. He didn’t either. He was too involved in the “survey.” "Oh, yes, all the time, " he replied honestly. “I have trouble with that with nearly every diaper. That’s a serious problem for me.” He was finding it difficult not to rub his hard penis. This was really turning him on. He had to keep it going. “Oh, dear,” she said. “That’s a shame. Of course, it probably comes from all your activity, compared to my older clients. How long after you wet do you change yourself into a dry diaper?” OK, now try to make this believable. “Well, I don’t like changing, and it’s often very inconvenient, so I try to make each diaper last as long as possible. So I guess I wait at least two hours after wetting before a change.” “Oh, my,” she exclaimed. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?” “No, not at all,” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “Until they’re VERY wet, I can’t tell they’re damp without looking. By the time I can feel it, I’ve usually leaked.” “Well, I’m not sure any other store brand would have more capacity…” she mused to herself. “Usually it’s adequate, but you are more active. The best option for you may be to add one or more pads inside the diaper, but we don’t like to do that because that makes the diaper even more bulky and noticeable than it already is.” Whoa! he thought. This was his big chance. He snorted derisively. “I’d rather have bulky than leaky.” “Really? But you don’t think they are already too bulky between your legs?” “No, not really,” he said, hoping she believed him. “I mean, I hardly even know they’re there. I don’t have to walk funny like you said. I’m sure I wouldn’t even notice another pad, or even two. But the best would obviously be a thicker diaper I don’t have to change very often.” He was lying now, and thoroughly enjoying it. This could be the perfect infantilist diaper! “Do you worry about other people noticing?” “Not really. I wear baggy clothes, and I don’t think anyone at all has noticed. I don’t see why they should.” This was excellent news for Mrs. Sheffield. Most potential clients were indeed worried about making sure their diapers were unobtrusive. He didn’t care. This should make his assimilation into the program easier. Doug noticed her pause and assumed she was having a little trouble believing that he wanted MORE bulk. He said a silent apology to all diaper-wearers who DIDN’T want people to notice, but he really hoped his cry for thicker, more babyish diapers was getting through. As if in answer, he heard her say, “OK, more bulky and absorbent so you don’t have to change as often and won’t leak. Now, are the diapers too noisy for you, or are they okay? Are you worried that people notice?” “Nah, they’re fine,” he answered gleefully. She was buying the whole thing. For a moment, though, a frightening thought flew through his mind. How truly terrifying and humiliating it would be to be stuck in diapers like the ones he was imagining. What if he were doomed to this fantasy he had always played out in his head and was now having fun pretending was real? To be locked, for instance, in huge, noisy, bulky diapers in public, to be noticed by everyone: it would suck to HAVE to wear what he was telling her he thought diapers should be. But that was what fantasy was all about, he told himself. Reality wasn’t relevant, he thought. “Well, that’s very enlightening,” Mrs. Sheffield was saying. “Most people are actually asking for less obtrusive, quieter diapers, but perhaps we should rethink creating a different line of products. if you don’t mind, let’s move on to messy diapers. Have you had any problems with leakage from messy diapers?” “I’ll say. Even worse than with the wet ones,” he said, fully within his fantasy and not feeling any embarrassment. “And, obviously, that’s a worse problem.” “Obviously,” she agreed. “And do you always wear messy diapers for two hours before changing?” “Not usually,” he answered, “but sometimes I can’t help it. Messy diapers are much more difficult to change, especially in public. I have to wait until I get home, and sometimes that takes a while.” “I see. So once again, your lifestyle conflicts with your diaper needs. Now, you do seem to be out and around a lot. Is this true? Are you out of your home most days?” “Well, usually, though this week I’m actually spending at home studying all day…” he started before he realized he’d crossed over into reality. He didn’t really want her to know anything about him. Was she probing? “So you ARE very active,” she said, and he relaxed. It had just been an innocent question, he thought incorrectly. “Well, the only suggestion I have is to wear some sort of incontinent plastic training panty over your diaper. Do you have any of those?” Surprised, he answered honestly. “Yes, two or three.” And then he remembered he was supposed to be new to this “incontinence.” How could he explain why he had plastic panties? “The, uh, doctor gave them to me to try, but I thought they were just for cloth diapers.” “In general they are, but in your case, it sounds like you could use the extra protection.” “Sounds like a good idea,” he said, not really caring. It didn’t matter what he did or didn’t promise to do. She asked several more questions he found less interesting, regarding tapes and other mundane aspects of the diapers. Finally, she asked him about the wetness indicator, another of her compliance questions. He said he liked it and that he used it often, since he wasn’t always aware of when he peed. “Hmmm,” she said. “We’re doing some research on how many little stripes an indicator should have. I’ve forgotten: how many stripes does your diaper’s indicator have? Could you look down at your diaper and tell me?” He felt a brief moment of panic. He, of course, was not wearing a diaper, and he couldn’t really remember. But he relaxed as he realized that if she’d forgotten, it didn’t matter what he said, as long as it was reasonable. “Um, it looks like one,” he said, guessing that was most common. “One? Okay, that’s exactly what I thought,” Mrs. Sheffield said with a definite air of satisfaction. Doug was happy he’d guessed right. In fact, he’d guessed wrong, and this mistake was the one Mrs. Sheffield had been looking for. It told her Doug wasn’t really wearing his diapers like he should and was therefore a definite compliance risk. That sealed it. She would definitely put him in the program. He clearly needed the little push that Mrs. Sheffield’s friend Mrs. Warren could give. Otherwise he risked having accidents. “Okay, Doug, just a few more questions. You’ve been extremely helpful. I think I know about all I need to know. But tell me, is cost an issue for you? Do you think the disposables on the market are too expensive?” What a great question. Did he EVER. He had trouble buying diapers even occasionally, and he shuddered to think what it must cost to keep someone in them full-time. On the other hand, he wasn’t really as turned on by the cloth diapers, so for him it was worth it. To her, he said, “Yes, ma’am, especially on a student’s budget.” Whoops. Another slight slip, mentioning something personal. But again, she seemed not to notice or care. “That’s what I thought. What if I offered you products that would cost a lot less? I’ve calculated your approximate cost as about $250 per month right now. What if I could offer you the same diapers for about $80 per month? Would you be interested?” That was great! He was excited, for his comments really seemed to be getting somewhere! He was striking a blow for infantilists everywhere! “Wow! Of course! That would be a lot better. But can you do that?” “Well, this is just hypothetical, of course, but, yes. Now, how many briefs do you have left?” He paused. How many SHOULD he have left? Quick arithmetic gave him his answer. “About five, I think.” “Uh-huh. So when can I expect you into the store to restock?” Whoa. Here’s where he got off the fantasy train. He couldn’t make a commitment, he knew, or this could escalate to something he couldn’t afford or keep up with. “Well, I don’t know…” “Sounds like you’d better get in here tomorrow, or you’ll be right where you were before, trying to get by with just your underpants and a prayer. Right?” “Well, uh, yes, but…” He tried to think of how to get out of this easily. She was making it tough. Mrs. Sheffield decided it was time to come clean and close the deal. She knew what she needed to know. “Doug, you had no plans to come in, did you?” “…Not really, no.” It felt better to tell the truth. And she seemed like that might be okay with her. “And you’re not wearing a diaper now, are you?” Yikes! She was sharper than he’d given her credit for. “Well, I, um…” He was shocked, but he didn’t want to admit that he wasn’t wearing a diaper now. She might not use his survey information. He didn’t know it, but he had a more important issue he should have been worrying about. “That’s what I thought. By the way, when you do look at your diaper, you’ll notice two indicator stripes.” She took a deep breath. “Now, you need to listen to me. I may have told you that I was in the business of assessing and providing for my clients needs. Well, it goes a little bit beyond just helping them find a product on the shelf.” Doug didn’t like the sound of this at all. She was no longer surveying. And she didn’t know it was only a fantasy for him. “What I actually do is run a business for people like you who are incontinent. I help them find what they need, and make sure they use it, by organizing ICP’s, which stands for Incontinence Control Programs, for them. I have a lot of clients like you who don’t seem to be able to look after themselves like they should. I worry that they’ll end up having accidents, and then lots of things in your life can go wrong.” Doug’s stomach had started churning. He had started to realize that perhaps he’d sold his story too well. “I’ve decided that you need some help with your diapers. I think we’ll need to enroll you into our program so that you can get the help you need. I work with another woman, Mrs. Warren, who actually runs the day-to-day end of things, and we’ll help keep you supplied, keep you wearing the diapers, and keep you well-behaved. And it’s all for that price I was telling you about. What do you think?” Doug knew what he thought. He thought he’d better do some confessing, or he’d find himself in far deeper than he’d thought possible. He didn’t know that it was already way too late. His silence didn’t really slow her down. "Now, I know you weren’t expecting this, and I’m sorry to spring it on you, but in the end you’ll thank me, you really will. Let me explain for you why I think you need our help. "There are four parts to any successful ICP. First, affordable cost. Second, choosing the appropriate product for your personal wetting and soiling needs. Third, accessibility: you need to be getting your diapers. Fourth, compliance. All the diapers in the world won’t keep your pants clean and dry if you’re not wearing them. "You may not have noticed, but we just completed an assessment of the ICP you had prescribed for yourself. That is, your plan of buying the diapers yourself any old time and bringing them home and wearing them occasionally. “What I found out during my assessment is that this isn’t working, regarding each of the four parts. Too expensive, too leaky, you won’t come in to buy them, and once you do, you’re just not wearing them like a good boy.” He tried to say something, but she wasn’t really slowing down. She didn’t seem to care what he had to say. This was getting absurd. “Doug, you need to face the fact that you are totally incontinent. Probably, well, hopefully, temporarily. But you desperately need a much better and structured ICP for the foreseeable future, and so the bottom line is that I’ll be supplying it for you. Believe me, this is a very good thing for you. You’ll eventually appreciate the complete protection we can offer, and we’ll also lay the groundwork for your eventual attempt at re-potty-training, if that becomes a possibility.” Doug sat listening in shock. He didn’t know what to think or feel. A tiny bit of him was intrigued and turned on by what sounded like a forced return to babyhood, or at least to diapers. But most of him was horrified at the thought of his fantasy getting out of control and effectively running the rest of his life. It didn’t sound like he’d be in control, and he knew himself: he ALWAYS had to be in control. He couldn’t even begin to process her words, for they seemed impossible, foreign, crazy. But she went on. “So after considering your needs and problems with compliance, I’ve decided to enroll you in a special diaper delivery program we offer, where I can decide the best ICP for you, and all you have to do is follow some very simple rules. You’ll pay twenty dollars each week for us to deliver a week’s worth of diapers to you, as well as the extra pads we talked about, and you’ll wear them and use them. “Mrs. Warren will check on you and make sure you are following the rules and using your diapers appropriately, and she has some very helpful disciplinary tricks to help you be obedient, which I’m sure you’ll appreciate. Then you’ll return the used diapers at the end of the week for us to count and examine, so we know you used them all week. So you see, this program is much better with regard to cost, availability, leak protection, and especially behavior control. Doesn’t it sound wonderful?” Doug felt speechless, but knew he had to speak. “Mrs., uh, Sheffield? I really appreciate your concern, but, um, well, I don’t actually think I need your help here…” Mrs. Sheffield responded with a slightly condescending tone. “Oh, but we just talked about that and decided you did. Remember?” He remembered HER talking and deciding, but he’d been left out. “Yes, but I think there has been a terrible mistake here. You see…” She interrupted again. “Don’t you worry. There’s no mistake. I’m going to help you, and you will never have to wet your pants again. Doesn’t that sound nice?” “No. I mean, yes. I mean, I don’t want your help here because…” “Doug,” Mrs. Sheffield said earnestly, "I’m sure you’re used to handling your problem on your own, but the fact is, you’re just not doing a very good job. I’m afraid you misunderstand what’s going on here. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m really not asking you whether you’d like to participate. I’m TELLING you about the ICP that you will begin tomorrow. I’m sorry we couldn’t ask for your opinion, but by not wearing your diaper you showed me that you are not reliable enough to make these decisions for yourself. “And you’ll have to trust me here that this is not a bad thing. When you’re incontinent, there are only two things that could happen. You can either have accidents with wetting and soiling your pants, which is horrible. Or you can wear your diaper. And in this program, believe me, you will wear your diaper. Now, do you have any specific questions about your ICP that I can answer for you?” Doug was starting to panic, because she wasn’t listening to him. She was treating him like a child, which hadn’t happened to him for nearly twenty years. It was frustrating not to have control! But he had to stop this now. As embarrassing as it was, he couldn’t think of anything else but to tell her the truth. “Mrs. Sheffield, there really has been a mistake. You see, I’m actually not…” Her voice turned cold. “No, Doug, we’re not going to argue about this. This isn’t the time for that. I was asking you if you had any questions about your ICP.” “Yes, but I need to tell you that I don’t need…” “Okay, that’s enough,” said Mrs. Sheffield sternly. "If you don’t have any questions, I’ll just tell you what’s going to happen next. “Mrs. Warren will be taking over your care from now on, and she told me to tell you that she’ll be over tomorrow at about ten in the morning with your first week of diapers and other supplies. At that time she’ll explain all of the rules she has, and what you are to do, and she’ll get you into a diaper for good. “Now, you told me you’ll be home tomorrow, and that you don’t have any roommates, so I don’t expect any trouble from you about this. Ten in the morning. If you want to argue, argue with Mrs. Warren. She loves to `discuss’ things with clients, and I’m sure she’d be happy to talk with you about whether you need our diapers. So if you want to talk, save it until tomorrow. Does that sound alright?” Doug felt defeated with this woman. She wouldn’t even give him the time of day. Before, he’d been embarrassed when she’d asked him so many questions. Now she wouldn’t listen! But perhaps this other lady would. He had to have better luck with someone else. At least he’d have time to think about how he’d explain himself. “Okay,” he said. “But I’ll just tell you, I’m not doing this program thing.” “I’ll leave that for you and Mrs. Warren to work out. It’s been nice talking to you, Doug, and I’m happy to have you in our program, even though it may take a while for you to adjust to it. Oh, by the way, make sure you behave yourself with Mrs. Warren tomorrow. Of course, she’s very nice, but she doesn’t tolerate little boys who aren’t polite. Will you promise me to be polite?” What else was there to say? “Yes, ma’am.” “That’s a good boy. And promise me you’ll wear your diaper tonight?” Like hell. “Yes, ma’am.” “Okay, good. Take care until tomorrow, Doug, and please, for the sake of yourself and your underpants, wear your diaper.” As she hung up the phone, Mrs. Sheffield smiled. That had been done skillfully. She worried about cooperation with many of these boys, and so she’d adopted a strategy of getting as much info about them and their habits before breaking the news to them. None of them saw it coming, of course, and while she felt guilty deceiving them, she felt proud to offer them the protection her son never had. If she hadn’t been a very good mother to him, at least these incontinent boys would benefit from her learning. She did feel bad about one thing, though, and that was deferring Doug’s questions to Mrs. Warren, who wasn’t exactly the chatty type. She had an uneasy feeling that she was quite rough with these boys, especially the resistant or noncompliant ones. But the two women had an unspoken rule that Mrs. Warren’s methods were not talked about between them. Mrs. Sheffield thought maybe Mrs. Warren spanked them, but wasn’t sure. Mrs. Sheffield didn’t oppose spanking in principle, but she worried that her partner might go a little overboard. She had to keep reminding herself that keeping these boys in the program and in diapers as long as they were incontinent was the most important goal. And since Mrs. Warren had been running the ICPs, Mrs. Sheffield had not heard of a single problem, either from the boys or from Mrs. Warren. All of them clearly wore their diapers. So, as much as she might have worried, and probably should have worried, Mrs. Sheffield let the methods of Mrs. Warren remain a secret. As she added Doug’s name to the next day’s diaper delivery list, a curious observation popped into her mind. Like Doug, many of these boys described a “temporary” incontinence problem. She put most of them in their ICPs just to tide them over until they regained their control. Oddly, though, in the three years since she had hired Mrs. Warren to run her business, not a single one of these temporary incontinents had graduated from their program. “Oh, I know,” she lied to herself. “I bet they’re just not honest with themselves at the beginning. I’m sure they all would like to believe it’s temporary, but it makes sense that bladder and bowel incontinence doesn’t just go away. Those poor boys, denying their problem. Well, as long as they’re protected.” The boys, of course, were not the only ones practicing denial; Mrs. Sheffield had apparently learned how to convince herself there was nothing odd about the program she officially ran but knew nothing about. Mrs. Sheffield attended to the next order of business by picking up a phone and dialing the number of Mrs. Warren’s cellular phone. She wanted to make up for the fact that she’d set Doug up to take the full brunt of Mrs. Warren’s wrath tomorrow. He’d be full of excuses that she wouldn’t want to hear, and though she had thought at first that a little run-in with Mrs. Warren tomorrow might not hurt this boy a bit, the more she thought about it, the more she realized it would almost certainly hurt. Quite a bit, in a tender, likely undiapered spot. So a little intercession on her part was appropriate. She smiled when she heard Mrs. Warren answer immediately. Tomorrow would be an eventful day for Doug. Chapter 3 Doug hung up the phone slowly and just stared out into space, trying to process what had just happened. He had just been deceived and manipulated into a position from which he was now dangerously close to being out of control. In fifteen minutes he had gone from being safe and happy and insulated from this frightening woman to being fooled, humiliated, and violated by her. And supposedly thrown into some program for delinquent diaper-wearers, where he obviously did not belong. Imagine! He had misled this lady so effectively that she thought he really needed diapers! It would be laughable if it weren’t so annoying and if it didn’t seem to threaten his desire for privacy. He couldn’t even enjoy the fantasies generated by the phone call, because now he needed to think about how to get himself out of this without anyone finding out about this, and if possible, without any more embarrassment. Doug was pretty sure this adventure would end tomorrow, when he explained the reality of the situation to this Mrs. Warren. But he was most concerned about how he could end this without admitting he was just a diaper lover, which he knew was viewed by most people as perverted. If word of his kink spread, his application for the graduate program could be in jeopardy and his job at the lab ended. How could he end this discreetly? He’d have to be prepared, more prepared and alert than he’d just been during that conversation with Mrs. Sheffield. What an idiot he’d been. She’d played him masterfully, and he’d fed right into her little quizzes. Curious, he went to his stash of diapers and checked them. Sure enough, the ones he’d just bought had two stripes. Stupid. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. And, he chuckled, he nearly had walked straight into the nightmare he’d imagined of having given the description of the perfect adult baby diaper only to be sentenced to wear it constantly. That would really be miserable. But he would avoid that. No one would be sentencing him to anything. He was an adult, and he controlled his life. The anxiety he had about tomorrow morning didn’t stop him from getting that same thrill he always felt when he touched the plastic of a disposable diaper, but he packed it away in his bedroom closet as a symbolic gesture of his continued autonomy. She’d pushed him around pretty well over the phone, hadn’t she? Wait until that other lady got here tomorrow. She’d meet the real Doug. He tried to have a normal evening, but his anxiety continued, so he had a couple beers to calm himself down. He’d meant to figure out what he would say tomorrow to that diaper lady, but after the beer, he decided he could figure it out later… Doug awoke the next morning fully clothed on the sofa, and was disoriented by the sunlight streaming in the window and what sounded like loud banging on his front door. He next noticed a strong message from his bladder, distended from the beer from last night. As he struggled to his feet and stumbled to the bathroom, he tried to reconstruct what had happened to him. He was midway through relieving himself before he realized that he must have fallen asleep on the sofa and overslept. So who could be so rude as to be pounding on the door? “Oh my god!” he said out loud as he suddenly remembered Mrs. Warren. He jerked his hand up to look at his watch and only succeeded in peeing all over the bathroom floor, not to mention leaving a small spot on his jeans. But big deal: he finally got a good look at the time, and, sure enough, it was after 10am. He was now wide awake, and working hard to figure out what to say to this woman. He zipped and buckled his (now slightly wet) pants and went to the front window. He couldn’t see the door, or who was there, but he did catch a glimpse of a large van, colored in pastel pinks and blues, with the words “HOME DIAPER DELIVERY--Get 'em, Wet 'em, and Forget 'em.” He would have been embarrassed at his neighbors seeing this van, but he had more urgent concerns. He could always claim it had had the wrong address or something. But there could be no doubt who was banging on his front door. He briefly entertained the idea of not answering the door at all, but the banging was so insistent, he decided he had to confront this threat and get rid of it. He took a deep breath and opened the door. He was suddenly and rudely pushed aside, and a large woman strode past him toward his living room area. He was sort of surprised by her assertiveness, and it took him a minute to recover, close the door, and follow her in. Entering the living room, he saw that she had her back turned to him, apparently already talking on the phone! But even from the back, he recognized her from the drugstore; she was the strong-looking beautiful brunette who had watched him with such interest as he had waddled self-consciously out of the dressing room in the back of the store. Somehow he had known that it would be her. He wanted to apologize to her for keeping her waiting at the door, to show her how reasonable and sensible he really was, but here she was, already on the phone. She was obviously kind of rude, but he didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot, so he just stood there awkwardly and listened in to find out what was so urgent. What he heard surprised and worried him a little. “Yes, Mary, I KNOW I promised not to spank him today, but he’s practically been begging for it for the past twelve minutes.” Doug glanced at his watch. It was 10:12 now. Could they be talking about him?! “Well, no, obviously not. But let me tell you what he did. Deliberately kept me waiting outside for twelve minutes…Of course he was home…I’m SURE it was on purpose…Well, Mary, I just don’t put UP with that kind of behavior…I KNOW what he needs, and I can give it to him with an open palm…Yes…Yes, I know…Yeah, okay. Alright. But he just exhausted his grace period. No more warnings or excuses. Next time he so much as looks at me wrong, he goes over my knee. You know how I feel about disrespect…Okay, Mary…Okay. Bye.” Doug was now very anxious, as he watched her set the phone down. His face was burning with embarrassment, for he knew that as absurd as it sounded these women were discussing HIM. Whether HE, essentially a grown man, should get a spanking. He would have thought it comical if this lady hadn’t seemed so serious and capable. He wasn’t small, but because of her size, he’d have a hard time resisting her physically. He watched her now as she seemed to think for several seconds and then turned abruptly and brushed past him back toward the door without even acknowledging his presence. He stood there, uncertain how to handle this strange encounter with this lady. She helped him. As she reached the door, she turned and for the first time, spoke to him. “The very least you could do would be to help me carry in your diapers. Come on!” And she disappeared outside, leaving the door wide open. It was another second before he realized that he’d better start explaining fast, or within about two minutes she’d probably expect him to be wearing one of the infantile gifts she’d brought. He rushed out the door and out to the pink and blue diaper van. She was around back, opening the rear doors. As he reached her she was examining a clipboard and appearing to compare it to contents in the back of the truck. He looked inside and got distracted by her cargo. Her van was literally crammed full of packages of disposable and cloth diapers. In addition there were smaller packages of plastic and other (rubber?) panties, bottles of powder, oil, vaseline, lotion, and lots of other nondescript items he thought must be pads and soakers. There were also many items he could not identify: jugs of liquid, assorted clothing. Half of him wanted to go through it all and see what he liked, but the rational half of him realized he’d find out all too soon if he didn’t start talking now. “Um, Mrs. Warren?” he started hesitantly. When she didn’t answer or even look up, he just went on. “We REALLY need to talk.” She half snorted derisively in response but didn’t otherwise say anything. He realized he’d better just spit out the essentials. “There has been a huge, embarrassing mistake. You see, in real life, I don’t NEED to wear diapers at all. I’m totally continent. This is all a big mixup because, um, well…” He stalled out, summoning the courage to tell someone the truth for the first time ever. “I, um, sometimes like to, you know, wear diapers, just as a kind of fantasy. But it’s just a funny little thing, it has nothing to do with reality…” He was watching her face, which never changed expression. She just kept checking over her list. Finally, as he trailed off, unsure of what to say next, she smiled slightly, and though her eyes never left her clipboard, she murmured," “Well, your fantasy is about to become your reality, little boy.” That was NOT the response he expected. He started to panic a little. She wasn’t listening or didn’t get it. He grabbed her elbow frantically and said, “No, you don’t understand. I DO NOT need diapers. I am completely continent.” THAT moved her eyes to him, and the fierceness with which she glared at him, and then at his hand on her elbow, startled him. He let go of her elbow. Her eyes narrowed, and after a long pause, she said slowly and distinctly, “I think I just heard you ask for a continence test.” He just stared blankly at her. The words made no sense to him. “Is that true?” she demanded. “I…I don’t know,” he stammered. “What is it?” “Just what it sounds like. It’s how we find out who can and can’t control their bladder and bowels. Sounds like you’re claiming to be continent. I can’t accept that claim unless you can back it up by passing a continence test. That’s only fair, right?” He absorbed this slowly. “You mean you want proof?” She nodded, her eyes penetrating into his. “Better believe it. You wouldn’t believe the number of my clients who try to avoid wearing the diapers they so obviously need. This test is simply a reliable way of telling who does and who doesn’t need my…services. Now, I’m sure you would never try to mislead me,” she said rather sarcastically, “so you can just consider this test as a formality.” “Well, I don’t know. What would I have to do?” he asked, uncertain. “Oh, it’s easy,” she replied, “If you’re continent. Just keep your pants all clean and dry for three hours after you drink a glass of Gatorade.” That didn’t sound so bad. “That’s it?” “That’s it. But it’s not so easy if you’re at all incontinent. And judging by your pants, I don’t know how you’d do.” He followed her gaze down to the spot on his crotch from the bathroom. He blushed heavily, cursing himself for his poor timing. Nice way to make an impression, he thought. “Oh, that’s nothing, just an accident.” She smiled. “They all are.” She went on: “But if you want to try to stay dry for three hours, that’s fine. I’ll give you an excellent chance to prove to me that you don’t need to wear diapers. Otherwise, you can help me carry in your things now.” She pointed to a pile of disposable diapers stacked near the door of the van. He stared at them, wishing he could have them and use them on his own terms, at his convenience. It was tragic to be confronted by this opportunity and not use it. But he couldn’t. This situation was way too threatening. “I guess I’ll do the test.” There didn’t seem to be much of a choice. She wanted proof. He could certainly provide that, and three hours seemed like a worthwhile time investment if he could nip this whole diaper debacle in the bud. “What do I have to do again?” She smiled. This would be fun. “As I mentioned, it’s very easy. You drink a glass of Gatorade and sit in the bathtub for three hours.” “The bathtub?” Didn’t sound too comfortable. “Yep. It’s easier to clean up puddles and messes that way. Along those lines, I’d suggest wearing older clothes. That should be fine,” she said, indicating the jeans and old tennis shoes he was wearing from last night. Mrs. Warren retrieved a large, clear container of what looked like lemonade from the rear of the van, then slammed shut the doors. She walked around the vehicle to the front end, and returned from the passenger side with a small sack of heavy black cloth. “Oh, yes,” she said, smiling at him, “I ought to tell you, just so you won’t be shocked when we get upstairs. I hadn’t planned on this activity today, so I’ve got a lot of other stops to make. I won’t be there to watch you during your test, and I need some way to secure you there in the tub so I know you didn’t cheat. That’s the reason for these.” And she held up the bag for him to see the contents. He peered in curiously and saw several well-worn leather straps and cuffs in a tangled bunch. A chill ran down his spine. “You mean you expect me to let you tie me up?” That didn’t seem wise at all. She was a stranger, and a weird one at that. He’d heard stories about people who got themselves into S&M situations and never gotten out. “No offense, but I don’t know you at all! Why should I trust you?” His imagination started working as he remembered how she wanted to spank him earlier, and his anxiety level jumped a notch. Sure, he’d fantasized about spankings. Maybe someday he’d try it, but now, with an angry stranger, was definitely not that time. Plus, there was a lot on the line here. But she shook her head. “Don’t worry. I won’t physically harm you. I know I could, but the purpose is just to make sure you don’t use the toilet if I’m not there.” She pulled out a piece of paper that looked like a legal document. “Here, look. This is a binding promise I’ll sign stating that I will not physically abuse you while you’re tied up. It will protect your rights, and you can hide it somewhere for use later if necessary. Or complain to the store. You’re protected in a number of ways.” This “promise” was a scam she’d only recently started, and it seemed to work well. She had to be careful of the promises she made, but of course most of it was true. She wouldn’t actively harm the boy, but she would use the situation that developed to her advantage. Anyway, the form was bogus. It just looked good, and most people didn’t know the difference. It was simply useful to reassure her brand new clients that they would be safe. And they would: in several hours, they’d be safely in a nice, clean diaper. She had other ruses to use if this didn’t work, but this boy seemed relieved when he saw the “document,” so she didn’t go any further. He was sadly naive, this one. That made it easier, but no less fun. Mrs. Warren made a big show of signing the document, giving it to him, and telling him to hide it somewhere safe. Then she told him to go upstairs and sit on the edge of the bathtub and wait for her. She saw him swallow hard, nod, and turn to go inside. She smiled again. He would be easy. When Doug went back inside and slowly climbed the stairs that led up to his bedroom and bathroom, he was still more than a little uneasy about putting himself in Mrs. Warren’s hands so completely. On the other hand, he couldn’t figure out how she could take advantage of him. I mean, I have the contract, he thought. And the test is so straightforward. A better test would be to sit in the tub for SIX hours, he thought. Three hours is almost too easy. I guess she could try to cheat by just not coming back until tonight or something, but in that case I simply wouldn’t agree to join the program. This sets me up for getting something if I win, with no chance to lose. Three hours, he thought. I could do that with a GALLON of Gatorade. And she admitted that anyone who was continent wouldn’t have a problem. Well, he figured, I’m as close to being perfectly continent as anyone. I haven’t had an accident since I was three or four. Never wet the bed. In fact, I’ve always wondered why I was turned on by diapers; I don’t even recall ever having been in them…oh, well, whatever. After today, in any case, I don’t know that I’ll ever go out and buy or wear them any more. Too risky. Doug hid the contract away under his mattress, for lack of a better place. Then he went into his bathroom and sat down on the edge of the tub. His bladder and bowels were feeling great and totally empty. His only worry was whether Mrs. Warren would keep her promise and leave him alone after he passed this “test.” But so far she’d seemed rational; surely she’d admit she was wrong after he proved himself to her. Overall, he was starting to feel very confident: things had looked bleak several minutes before with all that spanking talk, but now it looked like this would just be a three-hour delay in an apparently normal day. After about two minutes, he heard some noise down in the kitchen, and another minute or two later Mrs. Warren joined him in the bathroom. She had her bag of restraints and what he saw was the largest glass from his cupboard, filled with what looked to him like Gatorade. She cheerfully instructed him to sit down in the tub, facing away from the drain. He found this slightly uncomfortable because he couldn’t lean back without pressing the hard faucet into his back. She told him not to worry, that she’d take care of that. In the meantime, she put a leather cuff on each wrist and then one on the shower head above him. These were all locked with small padlocks. She then attached a small, long chain to one cuff, ran it up through the cuff on the shower head, and attached it to the cuff on the other hand. This brought his hands up to about a foot above his head. He found he could bring his hands down to about the level of his neck, but no further. Warren also took a short cord and ran it from a belt loop on the back of his jeans to the faucet behind him. He really couldn’t move his body or his arms at all. The arrangement was simple and effective. She must have done this often, he realized. She disappeared for a second, returning with a small pillow to tuck behind his back so he wouldn’t be so uncomfortable leaning back for three hours. Finally she brought out a little clock, which she set on the toilet seat in plain view. “This is so you’ll be able to see how you’re doing. In a moment, I’ll have you drink the glass over there, and then you’ll have exactly three hours to sit here alone. At the end of three hours, I’ll come back and see if you’re wet or messy. If it’s not obvious, we’ll pull down your pants and check your underpants carefully. “I just checked your dresser, and it looks like all your underpants are white. Is that what you’re wearing?” He blinked. She’d been in his dresser? He suddenly felt more vulnerable. But she was talking again. “Good. ANY signs of wetness, or ANY brownish stains on your underpants, and you fail this test. Is that clear?” He felt like a little boy again, being told his underpants would be checked for brownish stains, but he had to admit it was a reasonable demand for a continence test. “And if you fail, I don’t want to hear any excuses or arguments about wearing diapers, okay? By taking this test, you implicitly agree to participate willingly in your ICP afterward if we prove your incontinence. Right?” Again he nodded. Whatever. As if it mattered what happened if he lost. “And I agree that if your underpants come out clean and dry, that I’ll get back in my van, and I won’t bother you ever again. Agreed?” He nodded happily. Three hours until freedom. He didn’t think he’d miss her. Spank him indeed! Ha! Diapers? Please. She retrieved the full glass from the sink and asked if he was ready. When he nodded, she held the glass to his lips. He had to drink it down a little quicker than he would have liked, as she kept tipping it toward him a little too much for his comfort. It wasn’t bad tasting: not quite like Gatorade, maybe thicker and saltier, or something. But it was probably one of the other sports drinks he hadn’t tried. When he had finished the last drops, he looked up to see Mrs. Warren smiling an odd little smile, as if there was a joke he wasn’t getting. The joke’s on you, he thought. I’m not really incontinent. She wiped his lips in a maternal way, and said, “Okay, now, three hours exactly. I’ve got some deliveries to make in the meantime, but I’ll be here promptly to check on you.” She turned to go, then turned back suddenly. “I almost forgot,” she said, fishing out a small black object that looked like a little radio. “I don’t think it’s safe to have you here tied up alone, so this is a little microphone transmitter that I receive in my van. I’ll just set it here, on the toilet seat, and if there’s an emergency, just a yell will bring me back here in a hurry. Okay?” He nodded, impressed. She was prepared. Good thing he wouldn’t need to argue with her in the future! Luckily, all he had to do was play along briefly here, and he’d get this woman out of his life. She said goodbye, smiled that odd smile again, and left the bathroom. He heard her slam the door downstairs, start the van, and then heard its engine fade away. As Mrs. Warren drove away, she thought about the boy she’d just left in his bathtub, and almost felt a little sorry for him. He looked so earnest about the whole situation, so confident about staying dry, so hopeful about not wearing diapers. If only he knew the reality. She’d seen it before, of course, dozens of times by now, with dozens of boys. Most were, like this guy, essentially continent, she knew. Or at least they were when she first met them. And most had accidently stumbled into her little web, from which they could not extract themselves. All had similar stories, interestingly, of liking to PRETEND to need diapers, or having sick relatives, or some similar garbage. Mrs. Sheffield, the dear lady, caught one every few weeks. And though the woman might be nice, with the best of intentions, she was too dense to realize that these boys were not ACTUALLY incontinent and did not really need her help. But she thought they did, so she referred them to her, Linda Warren, former nurse and current queen of the diaper boys. The ironic thing was that as kind and dense as Mrs. Sheffield was, Mrs. Warren was just the opposite: insightful but self-serving. She knew damn well these boys didn’t “need” her, but she needed them, so they were in her program. She needed them mostly for financial reasons, as this partnership with Mrs. Sheffield was her only income. The more boys she had, the more she was paid. And the longer they stayed in her program, the less work they demanded, so the more boys she could keep, so the more money she made… And she was good, both at enlisting her boys and at keeping them. Now, after about three years, she had all the bugs worked out, so that once a boy was referred to her, he was pretty much hers for as long as she wanted. She could handle almost every curve thrown to her, and by now, had seen almost every variation. Her income was good, and, since the boys never left the program, her job security was excellent as well. She now concentrated on the art of her craft, and now enjoyed simply seeing how the game would be played. This boy, for example, was being resistant, and understandably so, she thought. He was probably no more incontinent than she was. But she had all the cards (or would have them soon) and his decision to try to prove his continence doomed him to what she knew would be a miserable day and a certain long-term relationship with her. For no one, she knew, had ever had a full glass of her “diaper juice” and had lasted more than two hours. Most lasted less than one. Even when she tested it on herself, she had been on a toilet within ninety minutes, and had stayed there for nearly three hours. It had taken her several weeks to find the appropriate doses of diuretic and laxative that would work quickly yet be able to be passed off as a normal drink. Using and mixing a therapeutic dose of furosemide wasn’t a problem, but it had taken some experimentation before she found a suitable solvent for the double-strength mag citrate and polyethylene glycol she used. It made her shudder to think about that: these were the fastest and most powerful laxatives known, and even a quarter of what she used would probably be enough. But she didn’t take chances. She wanted each and every boy that came her way. And so far, she had a perfect record. This boy had no idea what he was in for. He believed it was Gatorade, and was soon going to get an unpleasant surprise. Then the rest of the game would fall into place. Sometime later she heard the first curses come in over the receiver, and since she didn’t really have any errands to run, she pulled the van over to do some paperwork and to listen, for this first “accident” for her little boys was always sort of poignant for her. She leaned back and enjoyed the growing sounds of Doug’s distress. During the first few minutes, Doug tried to get a little more comfortable. His hands being tied above his head was innately uncomfortable, and he faced an unenviable choice between trying to hold his arms up on his own, which, he found, led to muscle cramps within five minutes, or letting his hands stay limp, which rested his arm muscles a little but chaffed at his wrists and cut off his circulation. In addition, his arms being elevated put added weight on the bony part of the pelvis on which he was sitting, making this extremely uncomfortable against the unforgiving porcelain of the tub. He tried to shift his weight, but his jeans were tied to the faucet behind him, and this prevented him from moving enough to get really comfortable. The pillow in his back also wasn’t doing a good enough job on his back; it was starting to ache already. This test would certainly challenge his endurance, he thought, though not in the way Mrs. Warren anticipated. He was trying to distract himself by thinking of other things when, scarcely 25 minutes into his three hour incarceration, he felt his bladder twinge a little, indicating its apparent fullness. This mostly just disappointed him, because he knew it would be a while before he could relieve himself, and that meant two and a half hours of relative discomfort on top of what he was already feeling in his arms, rear end, and back. But he’d held out for far longer than that in the past on longer car trips, so he wasn’t worried about it. Since he hadn’t had a lot to drink this morning, it shouldn’t get any worse. Ten minutes later, though, it did get worse. He started to feel a lot of pressure, and tried to move again in an effort to make it less evident. But of course, he still couldn’t move. Doug smiled, feeling chagrined. It looked like it WOULD in fact be a little test to endure this kind of bladder discomfort for another two and a half hours. He tried to figure out why he was having so much trouble, and could only point to a combination of the beer he had had last night and the Gatorade this morning. Weird. Oh, well. He’d just have to put up with it. But fifteen minutes later found Doug about ready to burst. He swore and groaned, confused about how the beer from last night could still be affecting him. He had to concentrate now not to relax his bladder’s sphincter, which would be a disaster of epic proportion. He thought about how ironic it was that it was turning out to be so difficult to stay dry. This was certainly worse than any bladder fullness he’d ever experienced, and it was quite a shame it had to happen today. As he hit one hour into his test, Doug was wondering how he’d find the strength to last the whole three hours. Suddenly he heard his abdomen gurgle. As he gritted his teeth against the tide of urine inside him, he attributed the grumbling to his lack of food today. Oh, well, he thought, too bad: his hunger would have to wait. Then he heard and felt more gurgles, which was followed by the abrupt onset of cramps. It took his breath away, and he fought to hold his bladder and withstand the pain at the same time. This wasn’t hunger. The pain subsided, but the gurgling continued and became nearly constant, and within two minutes, Doug was surprised by an overwhelming sensation of fullness in his rectum. It begged for immediate release, but Doug quickly clamped down with all his strength, and his sphincter survived the initial onslaught. He was, however, shocked at the abruptness of the urge, and at its strength, and as he tightened his bottom and bladder muscles as much as he could, he wondered what the hell was going on. He must be sick. Why did it have to happen now? His bowel cramps went away for a moment but were soon back with a vengeance. He felt severe abdominal pain and heard the gurgling continue, and battled the strong urge he had to relieve himself. He was now sure he was sick with something, and as he attempted to resist the beckoning call of nature, he started to get a foreboding feeling that it wouldn’t be possible to last another hour and forty-five minutes of this torture. Doug considered the options he had. He thought about appealing to the little black box sitting on the toilet in front of him. Surely he wasn’t supposed to be sick for this test: that wasn’t fair. Maybe Mrs. Warren would come back and let him out, and they could do this all over again some other time. But then he thought, how would he convince her he was really sick? As far as she knew, this impending inability to stay clean and dry might be typical for him, and this just represented an attempt to get out of wearing the diapers that she thought he needed. Anyway, she didn’t seem like the kind of lady who would bargain with him or entertain excuses. So he reluctantly had to dismiss that option. He was sweating now. He groaned again and again as he applied all the energy he could to maintain his continence. He had two other options, one of which was unthinkable. Either he could try to hold out, or he could give in to the strongest urges he had ever experienced. As difficult as it would be, he HAD to try to hold on, because he couldn’t imagine her coming back to find him wet and messy in this tub. The humiliation would be too great, not to mention the consequences… And then it happened. It was at one hour, thirty-five minutes in. He was tiring of fighting, and the cramps had gone away briefly, so he had relaxed slightly, only to feel what he thought may have been a little squirt escape from his bottom and soak into his underpants. He wasn’t sure, though. For that to have happened would simply be impossible, and the consequences too dire. It must have been a mistake. Just to check, he shifted weight to see if his underpants felt wet or squishy. As he did so, he felt another little squirt escape his anal sphincter, and then his underpants felt undeniably wet. When he first felt that sensation, he caught his breath. In fact, his whole sense of time slowed down. His world froze as he focused all his attention on confirming the damp sensation between his legs. He didn’t want to believe it. But even as he hoped he hadn’t done what he thought he’d done, he felt more effluent emerging from his tortured bottom. He resumed breathing, this time more quickly, in a panic. This couldn’t be happening. It was unthinkable. And yet his underpants were certainly wet, and now felt a little full as well. And then, in another moment, the smell from his actions caught up with his nose as well. No doubt, now. For the first time since he was about three or four, he’d accidentally soiled his pants. Not much, of course, but he could surmise the consequences of even the slightest accident. Surely his underpants were clearly stained, and Mrs. Warren would see, and say he was incontinent, and then… For the first time, he began to ponder what failing this test might mean. And he had to face the fact that he had failed it. Even now, as he continued to struggle against his bowels and bladder, it was over. It wasn’t fair, of course, for this wasn’t a representative three hours for him. He was sick, or still hung over, or something. It wasn’t fair, and he ought to get another chance. But he bet he knew what Mrs. Warren would say. He’d taken his shot, and had somehow blown it. Somehow he had failed his “continence test.” He repeated this inside his head as he groaned with the continuing pain. He couldn’t believe it. He glanced at the clock, which showed that he still had another 80 minutes left. Now his choice of what to do seemed less clear. Why, if he had already failed the test, should he be tortured with this pain and discomfort for the rest of the time? Trying to limit the damage did nothing for his situation. And perhaps, he thought in the desperate musings of a man in severe pain, if he gave in and relieved himself fully, she would come back and see that it wasn’t just a little leak, that he was in fact ill. Maybe that was his only chance. Only another minute passed before he decided to spend the next hour and a half in relative comfort. It certainly wouldn’t take much to make him feel better, just a little relaxation, and then she’d see it was all a mistake… He lifted himself up on one hip and relaxed his sphincter a little, only to be truly shocked at the force with which his bowels exploded. With nowhere to go, his watery bowel movement shot down his pants legs and up his back. It felt so good not to hold it any more that he started pushing when the flow slowed down. He pushed as hard as he could, and was gratified by how much better his bowels felt. When that discomfort had subsided, it made the pain from his bladder seem even worse, and he took a minute to think about whether there was any point to trying to fight that urge as well. After all, his poop was so watery, it had soaked his pants anyway: what could peeing hurt? She’d probably never know about that, for most would go down the drain or evaporate. So he relaxed his bladder as well, and a wonderful feeling of relief came over him. Unfortunately, somehow the way his penis happened to be positioned turned the onslaught of urine not down his crotch, but up into his lap, which had been the only dry spot remaining on his jeans. He looked down and realized there was no way he could pass off the dark stain in his lap as anything other than having wet himself. He lowered himself back down to the tub surface and felt a warm squish envelope his bottom, crotch, and most of each leg. What a mess. It didn’t feel particularly bad immediately, but over the next few minutes, as his mess cooled off, he realized that he wouldn’t be nearly as comfortable as he’d thought. In fact, he wasn’t sure that it wasn’t worse now. He wiggled his legs helplessly. He wanted to change now. He’d traded one discomfort for another, and the bad part was, this discomfort would be way more embarrassing when Mrs. Warren returned. It felt horrible, it clearly looked bad, and it was beginning to stink, too. But he’d done it, and now, he told himself, he had to sit in it. What was worse was that every few minutes he’d discover the need to expel more effluent into his pants. At this point, he didn’t even think about it, though. He couldn’t really make things worse. So every five minutes or so he eased himself up and pushed more poop and pee out into his wet, brown, full underpants. And in between his repeated soilings and wettings he had plenty of time to consider how embarrassed he’d be when Mrs. Warren came back and saw him in this state. Before, when he had done it on purpose, no one ever saw him. How humiliating to have had any accident, but especially one of this magnitude! And as he sat there in his wet mess he became more sure that she’d never let him try again. She’d been right all along, she’d think: he clearly needed diapers. And as he grunted and relieved himself once more, he wondered briefly if she was right. As the time dragged on, Doug became more uncomfortable than he could ever remember being. His arms burned, his hands were numb, his back was stiff, and his bottom and legs were cold, wet, and squishy. This isn’t at all the way he thought things would turn out. He watched as his clock crept toward the three hour mark, indicating that his test was over, and at the exact instant it read three hours, he heard a key turn a lock in his front door downstairs. Chapter 4 Damn, he thought, she’s good. He listened to the sounds of Mrs. Warren climbing the stairs, whistling to herself. He saw her enter the bathroom with her clipboard in her hand. “Whew!” she commented. “Smells like there’s a little boy who has some stinky pants that need changing.” He lowered his eyes in silence. Words couldn’t describe how humiliated he felt as he sat tied up in his bathtub with very messy and wet pants. She made it worse by laughing when she looked closer at him. “Well, I hope you don’t mind my pronouncing judgment BEFORE we look at your underpants, but I think it’s quite safe to say you didn’t exactly pass this test.” She chuckled again. “I mean, I’ve seen other little boys fail, but not with so much enthusiasm.” She leaned over to inspect him. “You certainly did quite a number on those pants, and it’s probably a blessing that you won’t be needing to wash those underpants. I’d suggest tossing those out. I don’t even WANT to know what color they are now. Deal?” she asked cheerfully as she packed her timer and monitor into her little black bag. He couldn’t speak. He was simply mortified. That this could happen at all, that anyone would see him, that she would make fun of him. It was all so terrible. She sat on the toilet lid to talk to him, then saw his expression and knew his feelings. “Oh, don’t worry, little boy,” she said, reaching over to stroke his hair maternally. “As I said, I’ve had lots of boys fail my test. You weren’t the first. “And likewise, you won’t be the first to wear diapers for me, either. It doesn’t have to be a big deal at all, if you just accept it. Life goes on, even if you have an accident, and even if you’re wearing diapers.” “But…” Doug tried to speak for the first time. “But I really don’t NEED to wear diapers,” he insisted, nearly in tears. “I’m NOT incontinent.” “Uh, huh, of course you aren’t,” Mrs. Warren said with a patronizing lilt. “But your pants might want to argue with you. Maybe we don’t understand what incontinent means?” she suggested gently. “No,” he said acidly. “I know exactly what it means. I’m just saying that I had horrible luck today. I’m sick, I think, and I had a lot of beer last night. I…I never have accidents normally,” he sputtered with exasperation. “No, you’re not sick,” she replied. “Part of it was the diaper juice.” “What?” “The diaper juice,” she repeated. This was always tricky. “It wasn’t Gatorade you drank, though it is very similar. It had a touch of a mild laxative in it,” she lied. Giving a hint of the truth often helped her credibility. But she found it best to keep him doubting his ability to stay clean and dry. He’ll be easier to manage in the short run if he wonders whether he actually needs the diapers. “I like to call it diaper juice because it helps me decide who needs diapers. You see, it doesn’t make everyone soil their pants, just those with some underlying incontinence. If your sphincters are a little weak anyway, this stuff will tip you over the edge, and you’ll have an accident. Or two,” she added, noting the wetness in his pants as well. “My company has spent a lot of time testing this drink, and we’ve found that the vast majority of people are a little ‘challenged' by the test, but that they stay clean and dry with no real problems. Only those we know by other tests to be incontinent had a soiling problem. It turns out to be quite a valid test," she concluded. She had phrased that well. He ought to believe that story. "Of course, that doesn't really explain why you wet your pants as well. The diaper juice doesn't have anything in it to cause that. You did that on your own," she lied. As Doug heard this, Mrs. Warren's words made his head spin. So, it had been a laxative, but he should have been able to hold it. But he didn't, so was he really incontinent? And he had peed in his pants, too, so that juice wasn't entirely to blame. He didn't know what to think. He had to admit, it sounded like he had legitimately failed this test. But...but he simply wasn't incontinent. He mumbled this again, since it was his only line of defense. "That's simply denial," she responded easily. "And I don't blame you for using denial as a defense mechanism. Bladder and bowel control are some of our most elemental skills. It's embarrassing and a little scary when we discover somehow that we have lost it to some degree, even if it's just temporary. “I know that you are scared and embarrassed. Now, I can't tell you why you are incontinent, only a doctor can. And Mrs. Sheffield says you've been to see a doctor already about it, so I'll take your word for it, and we don't need to address the reasons WHY you're incontinent. Our job is to deal with it." Doug cursed himself for having mentioned a doctor in his made-up story about needing diapers last Saturday. But he never thought it would be used against him. She went on. "But whether you choose to accept it or not, or whether you were aware of it or not, today we have proven that you have a problem with incontinence." He still felt dizzy. She sounded so reasonable. "But if I AM incontinent, I should have known about it. Right?" he asked, almost to himself. "And I'm sure you did, on some level, but you chose to ignore it, or not to believe it. Perhaps we can find some other earlier clues. Think back,” she urged. “I bet you can remember wetting your bed, or having daytime accidents when you were very little. Right?" He nodded. He could. But couldn't everyone? "Studies we have done have shown that our incontinent clients have specific memories like that more often than people with good control. “And this makes sense. If you can remember such incidents, you were probably older than most people by the time you gained control, and late bloomers often have trouble throughout life with bladder and bowel control." This was a fabrication she had practiced many times, and it usually had the desired effect. It did here. She could see that it had made him think. Time to hit him with more lies. "Here's another clue. Another subtle sign of an underlying incontinence problem is if after you pee (and I mean intentionally, in the toilet) you ever have a little problem dribbling into your underpants once you're finished. Normal men don't have this problem, but all of my other little boys do, and it's another pretty sensitive sign." Of course, Mrs. Warren chuckled to herself, how could this boy know that was a lie? Most men didn't examine other men in public restrooms. And indeed, Doug looked shocked. He had thought that a little dribbling was normal. Mrs. Warren smiled. Time to hit him with the big one. "Finally, psychologists tell us that we sometimes deeply desire things we know we need but which we can't admit we need, out of embarrassment or fear. These desires appear in different ways, but one way incontinent people manifest the desire for additional bladder protection is a sexual attraction to diapers. “You mentioned something earlier about this, so I'll bet that's the case with you, and I bet that from an early age you've had a fetish for diapers. It may seem perverted to you, or embarrassing, so you probably haven't told a lot of people. But the fact is that this is your unconscious telling you that you have a serious problem, and that if you aren't going to fix it consciously, your unconscious will help you fix it automatically.” Mrs. Warren let him think about this for a moment. “It's true, isn't it? You've secretly worn diapers before, haven't you?" She was looking at him with such a knowing expression. Doug nodded slowly as she nodded with him. Yes, of course he'd worn diapers. Was this why he liked them? Mrs. Warren smiled. That was one thing she could count on. All of these poor boys wanted to know why they liked diapers, and they tended to believe any credible reason you gave them. "You see, you've always had this problem, and you've always wanted help, but have been too afraid or embarrassed to get it,” she gently told him. “Not anymore. From now on, you'll get the help you need, Doug. And to make it easier on your ego, I'm not going to give you a choice. Sometimes we can't admit what we need, but we still need it. You may not be able to tell me you need to wear diapers, but you have all the symptoms of incontinence, and we proved today that you have a problem. "Now, it would be nice if you could admit you have a problem, so that we can work together to fix it. Working together is so much nicer than struggling with each other, and my experience is that it helps you more to admit your problem and cooperate with me.” Doug remained silent as he considered his future. It was too much to take in. Mrs. Warren sat up, suddenly more businesslike. “But I must tell you that it is hardly necessary for you to help me. It's far more pleasant for you if you cooperate, but one way or another you'll be wearing your diapers like a good little boy." She reached into her black bag, drew out a camera, and before Doug could object, she took several pictures of him as he sat in his obviously wet and messy pants in the tub. "What are you doing?" he cried. Evidence of his experience today was the last thing he wanted. He thought of his job, his grad program application. "Now just relax," she cooed, replacing her camera. "These pictures won't find their way anywhere important if you behave yourself. They are more like an insurance policy for me. As I said, I'm not going to give you the option of not participating in this program. I know your tendency is to avoid the issue of your incontinence, but I'm very serious about forcing you to confront it, or at the very least, to control it. The pictures will just help me make sure you'll stay in my program." That was bad news indeed. This woman was arming herself with more and more weapons, Doug saw. How could he avoid this catastrophe? "Okay," Mrs. Warren said, noting that the pictures had the desired effect. She would take more pictures later, and they would be her trump card for this fellow. "The next order of business is signing a contract for your personal incontinence control program, or ICP. After we do that, we can get you a little more comfortable." With that, she showed him her clipboard, which had on it an official-looking document with a space to sign his name. Doug got a sudden feeling of panic. He couldn't sign. This was it, the last nail in his coffin. If he signed this, he'd never be able to get out of this program thing. So he shook his head. "I'm not signing," he said defiantly. Mrs. Warren took the clipboard back and shook her head. "Your choice," she clucked. "You don't have to sign now." Doug was relieved. Maybe there was some way out of this. "But I will tell you that you don't move from that tub until I have your John Hancock on this page. As long as you're comfortable, you don't have to sign. You want to sit for a while?" Doug grimaced. He couldn't bear sitting here any more. But... When he didn't answer immediately, Mrs. Warren stood. "Fine," she said. "I'll check back in a little while, after I've prepared your apartment. If you're not ready to sign by then, I can leave you until tomorrow morning. I've certainly got plenty of time, you won't starve before then, and you don't exactly need special bathroom facilities. And if you get thirsty, I've always got some Gatorade you could have." He heard her chuckling as she went downstairs. When he was alone he lifted himself up a little and relieved himself once more into his pants. He had had cramps throughout that conversation but had held on until she left. That would have been way too embarrassing. Now what? She had him by the balls, he knew. She had blackmail material, and he couldn't sit here forever. He was so stiff and sore and generally uncomfortable that even a dry diaper sounded like a dream to him. This lady was too good, and right now she had him right where she wanted him. He had to sign the paper. There was no way around it. He dejectedly accepted this over the next few moments. More disturbing was the thought she had planted in his head about actually being incontinent. It didn't sound possible, but she made it sound obvious. And if it was true, did he have any business objecting to this ICP thing? But his bladder and bowel control was fine, he thought. He’d never had an accident. He'd never needed diapers before. And yet, why did he always want them? His head spun with the implications, and he was getting far too hungry and uncomfortable to sort it all out. He'd be best off if he signed the damn paper, got out of this tub, and got her out of his house. Then he could think about it all he needed to, and devise some way to get out of this whole mess. He couldn't think of any ways now, but there had to be some escape. He listened to the sounds of the house while he waited for her to return. He heard the front door open and close several times, and Mrs. Warren made several trips up and down the stairs as well. He heard bags ripping, and the downstairs toilet flush. He had no idea what was going on. And honestly, he didn't care. His mind was set on getting out of here. So when Mrs. Warren finally reappeared in the bathroom and asked if he was interested in joined her ICP, Doug nodded vigorously. "Good," she said, and held out her clipboard for Doug to read. But Doug had no interest in reading the contract. It didn't matter what it said: he had to sign it, and with any luck he wouldn't have to honor it. It was immaterial what it said. "I'll sign it. It doesn't matter. Just give me the pen, and let me out of here," he said irritably. Mrs. Warren smiled, and found a pen in her purse. She'd had a couple of boys like this. She certainly didn't care whether they read the contract. For her it served as one of her backup weapons, in the unlikely event that her right to punish her boys as she saw fit was ever questioned. But in her three years at this job, through many hundreds of spankings and other punishments, she'd never had a boy seriously question her authority. Not after he understood about the pictures, and had thought through what making a formal complaint would mean. She knew that the police would have a hard time believing the story, and would likely end up harassing her client more than they would her. The newspapers, Mrs. Warren knew, would love to get a story like this one, and if they did, her career would be over, certainly, but so would the lives of her clients. Imagine an adult male allowing himself to be diapered and spanked repeatedly, allowing himself to be tied in his bathtub until he soiled his pants, allowing himself to be photographed in that state, even going shopping for diapers in the first place. Her clients had all considered the possibility, she was sure, and once they saw the absurdity of their case, and realized the implications of pressing charges, they swallowed their pride and behaved themselves like good little boys. The contract was so that in the event that she enrolled a stupid or crazy client into her program (someone who *couldn't* comprehend how damaging "coming out" would be to their lives), she could protect herself legally when he made the insane choice to sue. And it was another tool for her to use in coercing her boys: "Yes, I think you WILL bend yourself over my knee. I've got a signed agreement which I could have enforced by law if I wanted. Would you like the police to help me spank you?" It was as vain a threat, of course, as her boys' threats to sue, for none of them, including Mrs. Warren, really wanted that much attention focused on their activities. But perhaps her boys didn't know that. At any rate, she simply smiled as she held the clipboard and pen so that Doug, in his bound state, could sign, which he did without so much as glancing over the page. "I knew you'd be a good boy eventually," Mrs. Warren said sweetly. "You will want to read that, perhaps after I've left. I will also leave a more detailed summary of the rules of the program with you so you can start learning, and obeying, them tonight. I advise you to read through it carefully, as you will be held accountable for all the numerous rules of your ICP, and I will start punishing you even tonight if you break any of them." Doug wasn't really listening. Just nod at her, he thought to himself. Pretend like you care, and then she'll leave, and you can figure out how to get out of this mess. "Now, I just need to go over a couple of things with you before we get you cleaned up and into a nice, fresh diaper. I've had a look around your apartment, so I'm pretty sure of my facts, but I always like to confirm them with new clients. You work in the grad school's lab in preparation for applying for their program next year. Is that right?" Doug, as distracted as he was, was still shocked. This lady had been through his private things! He felt even more violated and vulnerable. What business was it of hers? Was there any limit to her intrusiveness? Mrs. Warren *was* actually sure of her facts, and went through this presentation simply to scare her young charges. She wanted them to think that she knew everything and couldn't be fooled. The reality, actually, wasn't that much different. She took Doug's expression of disbelief as evidence that she was having the desired effect. "And you grocery shop every Sunday at The Grocery Place?’” Doug could only nod dumbly, wondering how she could possibly know so much about him. In fact, Mrs. Warren always marveled at how much could be learned about a person who kept receipts, as Doug did. She went on to `check’ with him about where he banked, rented videos, dry-cleaned. He simply nodded at each revelation, accepting this as evidence of how thorough she was and how difficult getting out of this situation would be. He would have argued with her about her right to rifle through his apartment, but as he was still tightly bound, this wasn’t really the time. This, of course, was all information she needed in order to keep track of Doug during his initial probation period. She would require him to let her know where he was at all times when he left the house, and she was adept at arranging for surrogate “babysitters” to keep eyes on him all over town. She didn’t need to ask about his pharmacy, since he would now be shopping exclusively at The Drugstore, her employer. And when she had gone over everything, she did finally release him. She undid his cuffs and removed the rope to the back belt loop of his jeans. Doug lowered his arms and just spent a moment savoring the feeling of blood in his hands again. Then he stood, and felt some not-quite-dry effluent slide down his pants leg and drop out onto the bathtub floor. Mrs. Warren made him remove his pants in the tub while she watched. Doug didn’t care. He assumed she wanted to watch in order to embarrass him some more, but he was past being embarrassed today. So he was caught off guard when he glanced up after pulling his filthy jeans off and saw a flash go off. Mrs. Warren was recording this moment with a small automatic camera, and had captured him as he stood in his brown-stained underpants with semisolid brown goo caked on his legs, and with his soaked jeans at his feet. He cared a little more about this, but not enough. It was done. He just wanted to shower. She kept watching and got several more pictures as he peeled off his disgusting underpants, soaked socks, and his relatively clean shirt. She had him put his underpants in one small clear plastic baggy, and all the rest of his clothes into another larger one. She told him the larger bag would be available to him if he wanted to wash the contents later. He would not, however, see his abused underpants again. He was told he wouldn’t need to. Then she observed his shower, and handed him a towel with which to dry himself. He felt much better, but still felt dazed as he followed Mrs. Warren into his bedroom, where he looked around as he stood there naked. He saw two large bags of disposable diapers and several other containers of what he took to be the stuffer pads. On his dresser were neatly stacked the contents of yet another bag of disposables, with shorter stacks of the stuffer pads next to them. His underwear drawer was slightly open, and he could see that it no longer contained his underwear, but was stuffed full of plastic panties. On his queen-sized bed was spread a large changing sheet, and a diaper and pad were already laid out on it, with lotion, vaseline, oil, and powder standing by and ready for his use. While he was still absorbing the transformation his room had undergone, Mrs. Warren instructed him to climb up on the changing pad and put on the diaper. “I’ll just watch to make sure you do a good job. We don’t want leaks.” As he walked to the bed, his hands attempting to hide his genitalia, he felt his face turn red. This was obviously more embarrassing than with Mrs. Sheffield in the store, not only because he was being watched, but because the observer had seen him wet and soil himself, and knew he needed to be in the diaper. He knew that he didn’t, or at least he thought he didn’t. And putting this diaper on felt to him an awful lot like giving up, which his pride made it difficult to do. But his practical side started talking, too: Look, it said. You’re not giving up. You’re actually tricking her by making her THINK you’re giving in. In fact you’re just trying to get her to leave, so that you can think clearly enough to figure a way out of this mess. You’ll win this game later, but to make it work, you’ve got to make her think you’re a “good little boy” by gritting your teeth and putting on this diaper. So Doug slowly walked over to the bed and gingerly crawled up onto the changing pad, next to the open diaper. He looked doubtfully at the arrangement of powders and lotions next to him. “It’s up to you,” Mrs. Warren said, reading his mind. “You have to care for your own skin. These are just possibilities. The only thing I require is that you use powder. Because I like the smell. You’ll appreciate it, too, once you get a little more experience with dirty diapers. So pile that on, but feel free to experiment with the rest of the stuff here.” Doug didn’t want to use anything at all, but he obediently picked up the powder and sprinkled some on the open diaper, then set the bottle down next to it. Mrs. Warren shook her head. “Nice try. Keep going with the powder. I want you to put it on yourself AND in the diaper, and I’ll tell you when to stop.” Doug crinkled up his nose, but he obeyed. He shook out a lot of powder into his crotch, and onto his thighs, then onto the diaper. She made him rub it in, and add several more handfuls to his bottom and stomach. When he was covered in powder, and nearly choking from the sweet perfume, she told him to put the diaper on. He carefully slid it under himself. She showed him how to center it and then fasten it lying down, so it fit best. He stood up carefully and noted with dismay how bulky the diaper felt now. Mrs. Sheffield had been right: this was way too much diaper for him. He could hardly bring his legs together, and there was no doubt that it would show clearly under any of the clothes he presently owned. This could be very bad. He’d never be able to hide it. But he was chagrined to recognize that he only had himself and his libido to blame. Mrs. Warren, however, seemed pleased. She stuck fingers into his waist and legs, testing the fit, and patted him on the rump, pronouncing him well-diapered. “I knew you could do it yourself. You know, Mrs. Sheffield thinks you’re something of an imbecile, or at least a little slow. She thought you’d need a lot of help.” She winked at him. “But I know better. So I’m going to be watching you very carefully.” Doug got a chill down his spine. She was on to him. “Now, come downstairs and see what I’ve got for you.” Mrs. Warren led him downstairs wearing only his diaper. In the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator door, revealing a gallon jug of what looked like milk. She pulled it out and poured him a large glass. “The diaper juice from before is very mild, but it is very long-lasting. It would ordinarily keep you rather…runny, for several days. So I want you to drink some special milk I have made to help slow your bowels down and to replace your electrolytes. The quicker you drink this milk, and the more of it you drink, the quicker your diarrhea will stop. So if the diarrhea gets worse, you need to drink more milk to fight it. Okay? I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. If you can manage to drink this whole gallon by tomorrow, that ought to do the trick, and tomorrow you’ll get back to normal. Some people, I should warn you, though, do take a little longer to readjust.” She set the glass in front of him. “Go ahead and drink this first glass now so I can make sure you at least get started.” Doug nodded wearily, and drank it quickly down. He was disappointed that the diarrhea would last a while, and he was willing to try anything that would help. If it would help, he’d try to drink the whole gallon before dinner. It didn’t taste quite like milk; it was chalkier and slightly bitter. But since he had never had Milk of Magnesia, he didn’t recognize the taste, and assumed it was the extra medicine and electrolytes that made it taste funny. In fact, this additional concoction of Mrs. Warren was designed to keep him very loose, out of control, and essentially diaper-dependent for at least the next few days. It would help get him started on the right track, and it amused her to think of Doug drinking this stuff to get rid of the very diarrhea it was causing. The more he drank, the worse it would be, and the more he’d drink. She’d check on him to make sure he didn’t really get dehydrated, and the game would stop after he was securely in the program and ran out of “milk.” After he’d drained the glass, Mrs. Warren handed Doug a copy of the contract he’d signed, and a longer list of rules he’d be expected to follow. Doug thought that perhaps he’d read them tonight or tomorrow, just to satisfy his curiosity, but he told himself that it didn’t really matter. Mrs. Warren then gave him his last minute instructions. “I’d advise you to use the rest of the day to explore your apartment and notice the changes I’ve made. Also, it would be wise to pore over those rules, because I’ll be checking on you often. I’ll definitely be back tomorrow, and I’ll probably be back overnight. I had keys to your apartment made, so I can check on you while you’re sleeping.” Doug looked a little shocked. “Oh, it’s perfectly standard. You told me I could do this in your contract. Read it, and read the rules. You have some homework to do before I see you tomorrow.” She winked at him as she was gathering her things to leave. “Promise me you’ll be a good little boy for me.” “Okay,” Doug said unconvincingly. “Now be nice. I see we’ll have to work on your manners. I’m trying to be kind, so you won’t get too many spankings right here at the beginning. But my kindness, you’ll find, only goes so far. So promise me you’ll be good.” Doug swallowed. “Yes, Ma’am. I promise.” She patted his diapered bottom. “Yes, Doug. I’m sure you’ll be a very good boy for me.” Then she left, and Doug waddled upstairs to his room, carrying his rules and contract with him. He collapsed on his bed, exhausted from the physical ordeal and from mental fatigue. He had a lot to think about, but it would have to wait. Linda Warren speed-dialed Mrs. Sheffield’s number on the van’s cellular telephone as she turned out of Doug’s apartment complex. “No, of course not, Mary. No problems at all. He came around just like all of the others have,” she told Mrs. Sheffield. “I hope you weren’t too hard on him, Linda. He seems like a nice boy who just needed a little gentle guidance.” Mrs. Warren chuckled. “Well, that’s just what I gave him. But I’m sure you really don’t want the details, do you?” “Oh, no, no, of course not,” Mrs. Sheffield said hurriedly. “I care more about the fact that they get involved in our program. It’s such a horrible thing to be incontinent and to have those accidents. I just want to make sure they are protected from that sort of thing, you know.” “Yes, I know,” Mrs. Warren said. She’d heard this hundreds of times. Mrs. Sheffield was so unlike her. So caring and nurturing, but also so naive. She thought that she was providing these boys with a critical service which they dearly needed. It would devastate her to find out that these boys were really perfectly normal, and that Mrs. Warren (with Mrs. Sheffield’s unknowing help) had forced them into an essentially permanent infantile lifestyle. It would also shock her, Mrs. Warren thought, how little Mrs. Warren cared about the harm they were doing to these boys. Mrs. Sheffield was in it to help her “clients.” Mrs. Warren just wanted to make money, and doing it with an artistic, sadistic flair was simply icing on her financial cake. “The bottom line is that Doug Easton is now safely tucked away in diapers, and before too long, he won’t even think about not wearing one,” she told her innocent comrade. “And by the way,” she continued. “I know he told you that his `problem’ is temporary, but I have a practiced eye, as you know, and I think I can safely say that he’s going to need our help for a long, long time.” “Oh, dear, I was afraid you’d say that, Linda,” Mrs. Sheffield said sympathetically. “What IS it about our boys? We haven’t had a single one make it to the retraining phase. It saddens me to think that there are that many people walking around out there without any control.” Mrs. Warren smiled. This lady was too much. How long would she go before she started suspecting the fact that they weren’t helping anybody? “Yes, I know,” she said out loud, trying to sound sympathetic. “And how many more are too scared to come in and let us help them? “There are tons of these folks out there. I told you that this was a useful service for people. The problem of incontinence, especially among young people, is a hidden epidemic. We have a new client every two or three weeks, and the rate hasn’t slowed down. I think there are more out there than even we suspect.” “I know you’re right about that,” came the trusting reply. “We must have about forty boys now, right? I guess I’ll just have to keep my eyes open in the store, and try not to let any of them slip through my fingers.” “Yes, that’s right. Don’t let any of them get away,” Mrs. Warren said, perhaps a little too greedily. “I mean, it would be tragic to have them continue with their problems.” “Indeed. I’ll never forgive myself for what my son went through. At least I can make up for that with these boys.” After they hung up, she thought back to when she had been a nurse, working long hours, for what she considered low pay. She had always wanted to go into business for herself, but had never hit upon quite the right idea. It had been pure luck when one day, while paying for some cold medicine in The Drugstore, she had observed the young man in front of her in line purchasing some adult diapers from Mrs. Sheffield. Mrs. Sheffield, apparently out of curiosity, had asked the guy what they were for, and the man had blushed tremendously and murmured that they were for him, for some periodic medical problem. Mrs. Sheffield had pressed him about the details, which had seemed odd to Mrs. Warren until she later found out about Mrs. Sheffield’s son. This young man was being grilled about how he managed his “problem” and whether he wore the diapers all the time. Mrs. Warren watched with interest as the boy grew confused and murmured something about wearing them only when he needed to. By this time he had received his change, and almost ran out of the store with his new purchase. Mrs. Sheffield had confided in Mrs. Warren that she had several young, apparently healthy customers about whom she worried, and this is when she related the story about her son. At the time, Mrs. Warren had thought the whole thing interesting, but an inappropriate topic to be discussing with strangers like herself. She had paid for her medicine and gone straight home. She didn’t think about it until the next day, when she was watching a talk show, and there were some young men in diapers being interviewed about adult baby fantasies. Mrs. Warren immediately realized why that young man had been in the store the day before, since she knew from her nursing job that there were few “temporary medical problems” that would periodically confine young healthy men to diapers. This fetish business made much more sense. One of the interviewees mentioned a fantasy he’d had about being forced to wear diapers, and soon a plan began to brew in Mrs. Warren’s head. All the pieces were already essentially in place. Mrs. Sheffield, the drugstore lady, who had capital but no way to “help” her diaper-wearing clients. The clients, who wanted to wear diapers but wanted, above all, anonymity. All they needed was the middle-man, or middle-person in this case. She could make the necessary deliveries. And what if her clients were too shy? Well, didn’t they often share a fantasy of being forced to wear them? She could do that: blackmail, she was sure, was a powerful tool, one that would not only keep them purchasing her services, but would protect her from the law. These boys would be petrified of people finding out. They were just waiting for her to run their lives. Mrs. Sheffield had been ecstatic, buying a van, hiring helpers to inspect diapers and assure proper use, and essentially leaving the oversight of the boys to her. Linda Warren had quit her nursing job, and devoted herself to running her new business. She had to make it look professional and well-intended to Mrs. Sheffield, so she conceived of ICP’s and retraining plans, typing up rules and contracts, never intending any of her clients to graduate from her program. And they didn’t. Her program was wildly successful, by her standards, anyway. She had been amazed at the numbers of infantilists who were drawn in by her lure, which was essentially an extra-large adult diaper section. It drew these guys in by the boatload, whereupon Mrs. Sheffield somehow got their names and Mrs. Warren forced them into paying her to enslave them. And nobody ever quit. Eventually the time and energy demanded by a client decreased, so that she could focus on the new ones, who took a lot of attention. But her client list, her nursery of baby boys, just kept growing and growing, and so her commission did as well. Now she had a profitable career built around infantilizing young men against their wills, and the beauty of it was that it was fun, looked legal, and was in no danger of ending. She had the perfect job. Occasionally she felt a twinge of guilt about what she did to these guys. For example, Doug Easton had never asked specifically for this to happen. But he WAS made vulnerable by his unfortunate little fetish, and Mrs. Warren often rationalized it by quoting Darwin’s natural selection theory. She was strong, they were weak. It was none of their faults, she thought, but that was the way it was. And anyway, they LIKED diapers, didn’t they? Sure, maybe not like this, but she imagined that they didn’t get many of their other fantasies fulfilled, and beggars can’t be choosers. The only thing she really felt bad about was the one element of her “ICP” farce which was also pure genius, the aspect that essentially doomed these boys to stay with her forever. It was the rule forbidding masturbation, which must just about kill these boys, she thought. That really is cruel, to supply a fetish and then punish the excitement it breeds. Yet it really extended the program. Eventually these guys got used to wearing the diapers, bowed to her desires, and stopped fighting. But she hadn’t had one yet who could go more than a month without satisfying himself sexually. And then she could punish him and extend his probation indefinitely. Prohibiting sex was the one thing that made their ICPs permanent. It was the master stroke, so to speak, and therefore could not be eliminated, despite its cruelty. Anyway, she wasn’t totally heartless: she didn’t make them all wear chastity belts all the time. They DID get their little releases, but for that they paid a price, with their rear ends, and with their probation extensions. She smiled. It was the perfect business. She just wished she could tell somebody. Chapter 5 No sooner had Doug flopped down on his bed than he fell asleep, exhausted from his ordeal. He awoke several hours later, during the early evening, and it was dark. Doug was disoriented. For the moment, he had forgotten what had happened earlier. His first sensation was a strong urge to release his bowels. He stood up in the darkness, and was surprised when he heard the crinkling of a disposable diaper. He wouldn’t have expected this, since he didn’t usually wear his diaper to bed (it excited him too much to allow sleep), but he was pleased, since he could just use the diaper to relieve himself. Drowsily, he relaxed his rectal sphincter and allowed what turned out to be a gush of fluid into his diaper. Somehow the diaper accepted the whole load without leaking, and, more comfortable, Doug sat down on the side of his bed to try to figure out what time it was. The clock said 7:30pm. That didn’t quite make sense. He felt the warm squish of his messy diaper, and smiled. He loved that feeling. But why WAS he wearing this diaper? What had happened before his nap? Then, with dawning horror, he remembered. “Oh, God.” Could it all have been true? That had just been a couple of hours ago. No wonder he was wearing the diaper. But now that he’d remembered, he felt totally uncomfortable. There was something about the memory of his humiliation earlier, and the embarrassment of having been forced to wear this diaper, that now made him want to take it off immediately. He waddled into the bathroom and carefully removed the messy diaper, taking care not to drop any of the mess on the floor. Then he stepped into the shower to rinse himself off. He had no sooner finished drying himself off, however, when he once again felt an urgent call of nature. Would this diarrhea never stop? he asked himself. He headed over to the toilet to relieve himself in a method more appropriate to his age, but saw for the first time that there was something wrong with it. There wasn’t any water in it at all, or more accurately, there was water, but just a little bit, and it was colored blue. He tried to flush it: nothing happened. It was apparently turned off. Well, he knew how to fix that, he thought, as he gingerly bent over to adjust the water supply on the pipes under the tank. He had to be careful as he squatted, because the release of his bowels was imminent, and crouching was obviously sort of dangerous with this kind of diarrhea. When he squatted to look, however, he found that there was some sort of locking contraption attached to the pipes. He couldn’t turn on the water! Now he was in trouble. He refused to mess his pants twice in one day. He ran downstairs in a kind of panic to check on the other toilet, but it, too, was drained, with blue dye, and was rigged up the same way underneath. Now what could he do? He didn’t have much time, certainly not enough to figure out this locking thing and fix the toilets. What other options did he have? He didn’t want to get dressed and knock on his neighbor’s door just to use his toilet; that was embarrassing, and also might take too long. He couldn’t really imagine relieving himself in the tub or the sink; it was bad enough he washed himself off in there. He didn’t want it to turn into a toilet, especially for this kind of excrement. He had no choice, he knew. Not for now, not for tonight. He dashed back upstairs and, swallowing his pride, picked up the top diaper from the pile on his dresser. He quickly grabbed a pad and took them both over to his bed, where he spread out the changing pad, laid out the diaper and pad, and taped himself securely in. Still sitting on his changing pad, he eagerly released his bowels, fully soiling his diaper for the second time in ten minutes. Wow, he thought. That diaper juice has some half-life. Then he remembered the milk Mrs. Warren had made for him to help. If ever he needed some help, it was tonight, with his toilets locked up. He gingerly got up, and when he saw that his full, messy diaper didn’t leak, he waddled downstairs to the kitchen. He poured himself a large glass of the “milk,” and drank it quickly down; then, thinking it would help, poured yet another and drank that, too. That should help, he thought. Despite how Mrs. Warren had manipulated him earlier, getting him to submit to being tied up, making him wet and soil his pants, making him sign that contract thing, he still didn’t suspect any further trickery. He certainly never suspected that this milk was, by now, the major cause of his bowel problems. He thought the whole goal had been to get him to sign the contract so he’d feel roped in to this program. He didn’t understand the extent of her plans for him, and didn’t know how important she thought it was to keep him constantly in diapers this night. After tomorrow, her techniques would change, but this first night she liked to have him diapering himself out of need, not out of fear. It was more amusing that way. But since Doug didn’t know that Mrs. Warren enjoyed his suffering, he wasn’t cynical enough to suspect the vast extent to which his actions were now being dictated by her. And in the end, his naivete would cost him dearly. But for now, Doug just sighed when, fifteen minutes later, he pooped in his diapers again, which severely strained their capacity. He again cleaned himself up, showered, and thought he didn’t like the idea, rediapered himself immediately afterward. He accepted the fact that he wouldn’t be able to fix the toilets tonight, and that due to his upset stomach he might have to wear the diapers until tomorrow morning. But, he told himself, it wasn’t just because this lady said he had to do it. It was his decision, because he was sick. And it was obviously just temporary. He took a look around his room. It was well-stocked with diapers and other supplies. And all of his underwear was gone! She’d stolen his underwear. He’d have to buy more. He suddenly realized he was starving. He hadn’t eaten since last night! He went downstairs again, wearing just his diaper and a t-shirt. It didn’t make any sense to wear pants, since he’d just have to change his diaper again soon anyway. He made himself some dinner, and thought about what to do tomorrow, when Mrs. Warren came back. He ought to accuse her of stealing, he realized. He ought to take some sort of legal action, because it really was absurd, the way she waltzed in here, tied him up, humiliated him, threatened him with blackmail, and stole his underwear. But what would the police say, he thought to himself. He’d let her in, allowed her (a perfect stranger!) to bind him in his own home, and then had signed a contract agreeing to all of this. Or at least he thought he had. He went upstairs and found it next to his bed. He brought it back down and read it while he finished dinner. [SEE CONTRACT] THE INCONTINENCE COMPANY'S INCONTINENCE CONTROL PROGRAM CLIENT CONTRACT I, ________________________, do hereby attest that I am completely and functionally incontinent of bladder and bowels, and have subsequently sought the services provided by The Incontinence Company (TIC, subsidiary of The Drugstore Company) for help in controlling my problem. I hereby state my desire to have a personal Incontinence Control Program (ICP) created for me by TIC, which I hereby agree to follow completely. The major aspects of such a plan have been described to me: I understand that the mainstay of my ICP will be the wearing of adult-sized diapers, either cloth or disposable, according to my needs as decided by TIC. I understand that I am expected to wear my diapers at ALL times excluding showers/baths and diaper changes, and I hereby promise to do so. I also agree to the wearing and use of other diaper-related accessories as deemed appropriate by TIC (e,g. plastic panties, pads, liners, pins). I also understand that, at the discretion of TIC, all bladder and bowel activity will be limited to my diapers, as a means of ensuring incontinence control and fostering discipline, and as a way of helping me to confront my incontinence. I understand that the eventual return to toilet usage will be an issue left entirely up to the discretion of TIC, if and when it becomes appropriate. I pledge to use my diapers exclusively and avoid all toilets unless instructed to do otherwise by TIC. I authorize copies of my house key to be made and used by TIC personnel for announced or unannounced visits to my home, and I give them permission to enter my home at any time, regardless of my presence, absence, or wishes at that time. I further request, recognize, and appreciate the central role played by discipline in my ICP, realizing that strict discipline is the other key component in the control of incontinence. I certify that I have been told that my ICP may include, if necessary, the application of corporal punishment and psychological techniques (eg. humiliation, role playing) as deemed appropriate by TIC, as long as no permanent repercussions are intended, other than my closer adherence to my ICP. I hereby publicly authorize the repeated and liberal use of such measures as spanking and humiliation, and I agree to submit myself wholly to them in the interest of achieving better incontinence control. I also understand that politeness and respect are a part of my disciplinary program, and I agree not to question my TIC representative’s judgment about disciplinary matters. I agree to a probationary period, to begin immediately, the duration of which is completely left to the discretion of TIC, and during which time discipline and supervision may be applied more intensely. I also understand that while efforts will be made to protect my privacy and to avoid public disclosure of my incontinence problems and the methods by which they are being controlled, that there may be unavoidable instances of public disclosure. I approve of these as long as they are made in good faith, with my best interests in mind. I certify that I have been told that my diapers will be delivered in a delivery vehicle clearly marked as carrying diaper supplies, and I acknowledge this as acceptable. I recognize that my ICP will inevitably prevent or interfere with personal, intimate, and/or sexual relationships I may already have or may wish to initiate. My enrollment in this ICP indicates my belief that controlling my incontinence takes priority over all other interpersonal or sexual aspects of my life, and I hereby agree to refrain from all sexual activity during the duration of my enrollment in my ICP. I ask for TIC’s assistance in helping me to control my sexual impulses, using restraining devices or corporal punishment to help me avoid any sexual experiences. I also agree to relinquish all decision-making responsibility regarding relationships to TIC, and I agree to seek authorization from TIC before engaging in sexual intercourse. I appropriately allow TIC full control over my bowel and bladder function and frequency, and I authorize any therapeutic measures TIC deems necessary in the interest of better incontinence control (eg. stool softeners, laxatives, enemas, diuretics, etc.) to be used at any and all times, if necessary, with careful attention to my health. Finally, as incontinence is a serious medical condition, I agree to continue my ICP as long as TIC believes it is necessary for me, unless I otherwise pass a TIC-administered incontinence test, or unless I bring written termination instructions from a TIC-authorized physician. I understand that I will be supplied with a list of these physicians if I ask, but that evaluation by a physician may only take place following six months of enrollment in my ICP. In summary, I certify that I understand and agree to all aspects of my ICP and each of the above statements. Signature____________________ Date ____________________ Witness ____________________ Well, this document would certainly be incriminating, he thought to himself as he finished reading. It gave her permission to do all of this to him, and more, apparently. He nearly choked when he read the part about abstaining from sex. I mean, I don’t have a girlfriend, but I do have an active fantasy life, he thought. TOO active, he replied to himself. His spirits sank as he realized that this piece of paper, of which she had a copy, essentially gave him no legal leg to stand on. He didn’t know much about the law, but it seemed to him that a signed document agreeing to wear diapers would look pretty voluntary to a judge. And, he had to admit to himself, he didn’t relish admitting his fetish, let alone the day’s humiliating activities, to ANYONE, and certainly not the general public. It would certainly cost him his position in such a small, tightly-knit program. No, he thought to himself, I’m on my own here. I’ve got to find my own way out of this. He put away his dishes and went back upstairs. He picked up the two soiled diapers he’d left on the bathroom floor, and put them, for lack of a better place, in the diaper pail that waited expectantly by his dresser. He sat down on his bed, noting the ever-present crinkling sound his diaper made. How could he get out of this? He’d asked himself this only the night before, he realized, and tonight he didn’t have too many more options. He could try to talk to her again, make her believe somehow that he wasn’t really incontinent. A full confession of his fetish might be his best chance. He could explain why the whole thing wasn’t appropriate for him and how the confusion had all happened. But if it hadn’t worked today, why would it work tomorrow? Mrs. Warren didn’t like excuses, he realized, and his failed continence test loomed large in the background. Besides, even the truth sounded hard to believe now. He’d WANTED to buy diapers, but didn’t really need them? Who did that? And why would he have waited until now to protest? Another alternative would be to stand up for himself and challenge her physically. He didn’t want to fight, but maybe this was the best way to convince her how serious he was about not wanting to be in this program thing. He’d simply refuse and protect himself if she tried to force diapers on him. On the other hand, as he thought back to their encounter earlier, he began to remember her size and apparent strength. He wasn’t small, but she really was very physically intimidating, and he began to wonder who would win a fight, if it came down to that. Yet anything was better than submitting to this nonsense. And if she tried to spank him (spank him! That hadn’t happened since he was six years old!), then he would have no choice but to protect himself and his pride. His only other options were unthinkable. He could always go along with this little program for a while and wait for another idea to come to him, perhaps after a detailed analysis of the flaws in the program’s rules. Or he could go along with this thing whole-heartedly, and try to “graduate” soon. But these options reeked of giving up, and were unthinkable. Submitting himself to such humiliating treatment daily was not something he could allow himself to do. He’d have to fall far lower to even consider it. It didn’t matter that he’d fantasized about just such a situation before. BEING in this situation made him realize he enjoyed his freedom far too much. He had other areas of his life to enjoy as well, after all. He couldn’t give all that up just for the opportunity to enjoy diapers a little more frequently. No, if he had infantile fantasies, he’d enjoy them on HIS terms. But he had to admit that he was out of ideas tonight. He grimaced as he almost reflexively let another runny BM out into his diaper. He was tiring of this diarrhea, and of these diapers. But he was prepared to bear it through the night, if he could get things back to normal tomorrow. Just to help things along, he waddled downstairs in his messy diaper and had two more large glasses of Mrs. Warren’s special milk. It hasn’t helped yet, he thought, but on the other hand, I’d hate to think what this diarrhea would be like without it. Then Doug waddled back upstairs, showered yet again, and changed himself once more. He watched TV for two hours before returning to his bed to sleep for the night. He soiled three more diapers that evening, and yet another when he awoke during the night, but he was so tired that he slept well anyway. So well, in fact, that he didn’t notice when Mrs. Warren stopped by shortly after midnight to check on her new baby boy. She was pleased to see nearly all the milk gone, and seven thoroughly soiled diapers in his diaper pail. And as she peeked in on Doug, she was gratified to see him sleeping only in his diaper and t-shirt. As she completed her inspection of his apartment, she was happy to find the toilets as she had left them, but she clucked quietly when a quick survey of trash cans and the bathtub revealed no evidence of shaven pubic hair. She wondered if he hadn’t shaved himself on purpose as a gesture of defiance, or had simply forgotten, or whether he’d even read the rules at all. It didn’t really matter, since she’d get to spank him tomorrow regardless of the reason, but for the future it would be good to know so she’d know whether she could anticipate further compliance problems. She drove away relatively disappointed that Doug was behaving himself so far by wearing and using his diapers, because midnight spankings were favorites of hers. She liked the element of surprise, and could often be creative. But no matter; she could wait until tomorrow. Doug awoke early and was distressed to feel his rectum already full. He felt ready to erupt into his still-clean diaper. He sighed and lifted his hips slightly to allow the putrid brown liquid to spill out of his bottom, completely filling and soiling his diaper. He then noticed his full bladder and turned over onto his tummy to relieve that as well. Then he carefully waddled into the bathroom and cleaned himself up, then powdered and rediapered himself wearily. This was gross, embarrassing, and infantile. He couldn’t stand much more of this; he hoped Mrs. Warren got here soon. He wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen, but she was certainly his only chance of getting out of this mess. It was clear that he had to show her who really ran his life. But he was disappointed when Mrs. Warren didn’t show up until after lunch, long after he’d finished his “milk,” and after three more very dirty diapers. He was studying when she surprised him by letting herself in. He was confused about how she managed this until he remembered about the key. As she entered his dining area and seated herself calmly in one of his dinette chairs, facing him, he decided that he’d better set the tone for how he hoped this little meeting would go. “What makes you think I’ll put up with those lock things on my toilet? Who told you you were allowed to make a copy of a key? Or come in unannounced. This is my house.” Mrs. Warren did not say anything. She simply stared at Doug with her steely eyes for nearly a minute. It grew tense. He wasn’t sure how she did it, but already she was making him feel powerless and small. As he felt her eyes bear down on him, he totally lost his train of thought. Shit, he thought to himself. Finally, she spoke, slowly and distinctly. “Because you are new to your ICP, those comments will today lead only to a warning. But you will never, NEVER, speak to me like that again, unless you decide you like to spend time face down on my lap. And most little boys do not. Is that understood, young man?” Doug did not know what to say. Her reaction was not at all what he had expected. “But this is my house, and…” “No buts. I asked you if you understood me.” Long pause. Doug simply didn’t know how to talk to this woman. She was acting just as if she were his mother, and he hadn’t had to talk to someone like this for a very long time. Instinctively, before he could stop himself, he heard himself say, “Yes, ma’am.” “That’s better. And to think that up until that moment I’d been impressed with your compliance. You’ve obviously been wearing your diapers like a good little boy, and I can see that you clearly have one on now under those sweats.” This shook him. Was the bulge that obvious? And could she really know that he’d worn diapers since she left? As if reading his mind, she said, “Yes, I was here overnight, and yes, it’s very obvious. Did you finish your milk?” “Yes…yes, ma’am. But it didn’t help.” “Oh,” she said sympathetically. “Have you had a lot of messy diapers?” He nodded, embarrassed. “Yes, ma’am.” “Well, look on the bright side. You won’t have any trouble with your messy diaper quota this week. And don’t worry: your little problem should be clearing up very shortly.” That was good news, at least. But what was the quota she was talking about? He had forgotten to read the rules, and now he started to think that was unfortunate. He was also aware that he was inexplicably falling into a little boy role while talking to her. It was embarrassing, but she seemed to expect it, and he couldn’t seem to help himself. Her personality was too strong. She smiled at him. She wouldn’t give him any more milk now. In a very short while he’d keep the diapers on voluntarily, and then, after some time, he wouldn’t dare take them off. It made her almost giddy in anticipation. But for now there was even a more delicious task to address. “So, you’ve been a good boy. I guess I just need to check your toilets and bathtub, and then we can take a look at you to see how you did shaving.” She was sure he hadn’t done it. And her spanking hand tingled with excitement. “What?” he said. He hadn’t heard anything about shaving, but he did have an ominous insight into what she might be referring to. And he didn’t want to do it. No way. Shaving himself for her, to pretend to be her little baby, was simply too weird and submissive. That was taking this way too far. “Shaving. Don’t tell me you didn’t read your rule list.” Uh-oh. Now he knew why he should have read the rules. “Well, that’s a little disappointing, Doug. I was beginning to think maybe you’d avoid a spanking today, but I can’t let you get away with not shaving. Hair underneath your diaper is against the rules.” His docile trance was abruptly shaken loose. Okay, he thought. That’s it. He had been uncomfortable and embarrassed up to now, but had been carried along by the illusion created by Mrs. Warren’s role-playing. But shaving himself and getting a spanking raised this game to another level entirely. With renewed determination, he shook himself, and thought, This is where I get off the ride. “Forget it. Look, this has gone on way too long,” he said, standing and pacing in front of her. “I’m not indulging your little whims anymore. I went along with the continence test because I thought it would be a nice, easy way to get rid of you. And then I’ve worn these “brief” things overnight because of my little diarrhea problem and your cruel toilet sabotage. But I’m no longer interested in your freakish diaper service, or your S&M games, so this has to stop.” He took a breath, and noticed that she was looking at him with an amused expression. It was somewhat disconcerting, but he went on, his tone turning rather desperate. “Yes, I know I got mixed up with you because I was buying those…briefs in that store that day. But they, um, weren’t for me, they were really for my grandmother, who is very ill, and somehow everything got all mixed up, and you got involved. So, well, you see, I’m not incontinent, and I want you to take your stuff and get out. “If you want my grandmother’s address, well, I can get that for you, but that's about all I’m going to do for you from now on. So I’d appreciate you unlocking my toilets, and taking your stuff, and giving me back my underwear, and leaving quietly. Thank you.” Doug took a deep breath and snuck a look at his audience. He thought that had actually gone very well. He hadn’t intended on making up a new lie, but it had come out of his mouth, and he thought it wasn’t bad. Mrs. Warren had sat and listened attentively. Then she said, “But what about your fetish? I know you have a fetish: you told me that last night. And what about the diapers in your closet upstairs, and the used ones in your trash outside? And what am I supposed to do about your incontinence, which you deny but for which we got some pretty extensive evidence yesterday? I can’t just ignore that, Doug. It would be irresponsible.” She sat back in her chair. “It doesn’t surprise me that you want out, even this early. It happens, because this is a rigorous program, and can be difficult when you first start. But you signed a contract. You made a promise.” She shook her head sadly. “And you have a problem that needs to be dealt with whether you want to or not. So, I’m not going anywhere, and we won’t ever discuss that prospect again. Your continence is too important.” Doug started to sweat. He’d forgotten the admission he’d made about the fetish, and didn’t know she’d seen his stash of diapers, let alone that she’d gone through his trash. Wasn’t there anything she didn’t know? How could he fight this? He sat down uncomfortably. Mrs. Warren continued talking, her tone becoming stronger and more commanding. “And let’s get something straight from the beginning.” She paused ominously. “You will never again tell me what to do. According to your ICP, which you are going to wish you’d read, I am the Mommy and you are the baby. And if we need to add some props to help you remember this, we will. I have adult-sized pacifiers, bottles, clothing, and furniture we can play with if we need to, not to mention spankings. You will never tell me what to do, or question anything I tell you to do. Understood, little boy?” Silence. He couldn’t say it. It was ridiculous. He had too much dignity for this. He had a life. He wouldn’t throw it away for this lady or this distorted fantasy. “Doug? I asked you a question. Tell Mommy the answer.” Silence. He didn’t know how to argue with her. It was so absurd. Mrs. Warren stared at him. She knew what he was thinking. She’d seen it before. It was time to get him to commit to this program. “Doug, I can see that we don’t understand each other. But you need to see that there is no choice for you here. And if it’s not because you want to get better or because you signed a legal contract, maybe you will obey me because of these.” She reached down and opened her large black purse. She withdrew two 8X11" glossy photos, and showed them to Doug, who gasped in horror. One showed him in the bathtub, with his messy jeans down around his ankles, and brown pasty goo caked on his legs and genitalia. The other pictured him sleeping peacefully in bed, apparently last night, wearing nothing but a diaper. He stared at these for a long time, trying to absorb their significance. Now he understood why she had seemed so confident since last night. These were very powerful elements of blackmail, documentation of what appeared to be totally voluntary activity that just happened to be captured on film. She had been careful not to use pictures of him tied up; these looked like he didn’t even know they were being taken, which was true. They also made it look like he wasn’t a victim, at all, as though this was the way he normally lived. Like he was a pervert who’d been caught in the act. Mrs. Warren broke his reverie. “Now, I do know where you work, and I did see the application you’re working on for your little graduate program. I don’t want to do this, but if you are so irresponsible as to ignore your incontinence, I will be forced to show these to folks who might be interested. I even have the addresses of your family.” She smiled at him. “Even your grandmother, who might be interested to learn that you have a problem so similar to hers,” she said dryly. Doug felt numb. His heart had stopped. This was it, coming true. His ultimate nightmare. Despair threatened to flood through him. How could this have happened? How could he have been so stupid? He hadn’t seen this coming at all. He hadn’t once taken this seriously or sensed what a catastrophe this could turn out to be. Everything had seemed straightforward and innocent. And all of a sudden he was totally trapped and at the mercy of this fanatical lady. The implications of these pictures were mind-boggling. Doug’s future was in this woman’s hands, he realized. She had the ability to ruin his life. He’d worked for years toward this grad program, building contacts, getting experience. It was within reach now, but this woman, with these pictures, could destroy it all. He’d lost the battle, he saw. This lady’s game was too strong. He couldn’t fight her, he couldn’t argue with her, and now he was even afraid to make her angry, for fear that she would go public with this blackmail. He had no choice. He had to submit. To anything. To everything. If he wanted a life, he’d have to submit. Mrs. Warren saw it hit him, and as always, it was the moment she treasured most with her new babies. For it was at this moment, and not before, that each one became wholly hers. She watched him abandon all hope and authority in his life. Essentially he had just begun the mental process of submission, and, therefore, of regression. After a day of fighting, finally their relationship was becoming what it should have been from the start: Mommy and little boy. It was sort of like giving birth, she thought, only better, since there was no pain (for her), and it happened every few weeks. Now the game would change. From now on arguments would be brief. He would try to please her, she knew, and she would try to frustrate him, both socially (since an isolated baby is a helpless baby) and sexually (so that she’d have lots of excuses, when he inevitably broke down, to spank him and keep him on probation). Yes, this moment was liberating for her, and invigorating, and the latest in a long line of moments to be treasured. She had to admit that once again she’d done a hell of a job. They stared at each other for several more moments, with fear growing in his eyes, and glee in hers. Finally she broke the silence. “Do you understand now, young man?” Pause. “Yes,” Doug said quietly. He thought he finally did. “Yes, what?” She loved this moment. It symbolized the entire transformation from independent man to dependent toddler. He knew what she wanted. And he had to obey. “Yes…Mommy.” Doug stared at his feet, trying to come to grips with his new situation. “Good boy. I’m glad we finally understand one another. We’ll have a great time together, I’m sure, now that that’s settled. First, unfortunately, we have some unpleasant business to take care of.” Doug’s head jerked up. What? Oh, my God, he thought. The spanking. She can’t be serious. But Mrs. Warren smiled knowingly at him and patted her lap. Doug was suddenly afraid. He didn’t want this. He’d never considered it as an actual possibility. If he’d known the rules, he would have been good and shaved himself, but he didn’t know, he told himself. It wasn’t fair. “No, please,” Doug said in a high voice that didn’t sound like his own. “I didn’t know. How about if I go upstairs right now and do it? That would be okay, right?” Mrs. Warren smiled and shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. You had your chance all night and this morning. It was to have been done by the time I came. You had a copy of the rules, and I told you you had homework to do. You either deliberately disobeyed, or you weren’t paying enough attention to me. Either way, I think a spanking will be good for you.” “No,” Doug whimpered. This would hurt. He’d fantasized about spankings, but not about the pain. Now that he faced it, he wanted out. “Yes,” Mrs. Warren said firmly. “Don’t keep Mommy waiting. She tends to get more angry when she has to wait, and I don’t think you want that.” Doug swallowed hard, and realized she was right. He forced himself to stand, then to shuffle his feet slowly toward his new Mommy. Chapter 6 He really didn’t want to do this, but he felt that he had to. He took another step toward her, so that he was now within an arm’s reach of her. She said, “You can go ahead and pull those jeans down.” Hands trembling, he moved to obey her, fumbling with his belt. Slowly he undid his belt, unbuckled and unzipped his jeans, and let them slide to the floor, revealing his bulky disposable diaper underneath. “Okay, let’s go,” she said a bit impatiently, indicating her lap. It always took too long the first time. When he hesitated, she reached up and firmly grasped his ear, causing him to yelp with pain. She pulled him roughly down and felt the familiar plastic of a disposable diaper settle on her lap. Doug suddenly found himself staring at the floor, and feeling very helpless. “Is this diaper dirty?” he heard her ask him, for what would not be the last time. “No,” he whimpered feebly. “Good,” she said. “Now grab the chair legs with your hands, and don’t let go. I don’t want to have to fight your hands up here. If you let go, we start again from the beginning. Got it?” “Yes,” came the weak reply. Her voice was so calm, in contrast to how he felt. He reluctantly grasped the chair legs with his hands. Then he heard his diaper being untaped, and suddenly felt a breeze meet his bare bottom. He was scared. His bottom was so vulnerable! He now remembered his childhood spankings, and how helpless he’d felt then. He cursed himself for ever having fantasized about them! SMACK! The first slap was surprisingly painful, but he had no time to think about it. Her hand came down again and again, more quickly than he could process. And to his surprise Doug found himself crying almost immediately, probably as much due to his being upset about the whole situation as to the painful spanking. It hurt, and it was so humiliating. But he kept his hands on the chair legs like a good boy, because he didn’t want to risk the consequences. And shortly, Mrs. Warren stopped spanking him. His crying faded into sniffles. Was that it? It hadn’t lasted as long as he’d feared. It was bad, but it could have been worse. He could almost handle this! “Doug, why are you getting this spanking?” he heard from above him. “I don’t know.” SMACK! “Yes, you do, and call me Mommy.” “Because…I didn’t shave myself, Mommy.” He felt her rub his bottom. That felt good. “That’s right. Good boy.” He let out a deep breath, relieved it was over. “I like to make sure my bad little boys know why they’re getting their spankings. We can keep going now.” And he felt her reach down, saw the purse in his peripheral vision. She seemed to retrieve something, but he couldn’t see what it was. Suddenly it wasn’t her hand caressing his bottom, but something smooth and cool. A brush? A paddle? This couldn’t be good. When the spanking resumed, the pain was sharper, but the sounds of impact had changed. Doug learned that his trial was not nearly over yet. And he cried again, out of pain and the frustration of being helpless. Twice more she stopped to have him repeat why he was being spanked, and twice more they resumed. It seemed to go on forever, far longer than he’d expected, and it hurt more than anything he could remember. His bottom burned and stung intensely. Finally she stopped, saying, “Will you remember to shave under your diaper now, little boy?” Gasping, Doug replied, “Yes. Yes, Mommy.” “Good boy. Would you like Mommy to shave you now?” “Yes, Mommy,” he sobbed, hoping that was the answer she wanted to hear. “Alright, let’s go upstairs.” And she stood him up, folding his diaper in one hand. His hands went immediately to his stinging bottom. “No, no, young man,” Mrs. Warren said, brushing his hands down. “That’s a no-no. We don’t touch our bottoms after our spanking, because that makes it feel better. We want it to hurt for as long as possible, don’t we? That way we keep thinking about what a bad little boy we were. Okay? No touching.” He choked back tears. “Yes, Mommy.” He hated her, but was desperate at this moment to stay on her good side. He kept his hands away from his throbbing bottom. She led him upstairs to the bathtub, which she filled with warm water. At her instruction, he lowered himself into the water carefully. He was happy to find that, in the water, his rear end didn’t hurt. But it wouldn’t have mattered. He was going to be good. He didn’t ever want another spanking as long as he lived. He watched as she found some shaving lotion and a razor and lathered up his groin. He bit his lip as she shaved away his pubic hair, starting at the top and moving down around his penis and scrotum. He stayed very still, because he didn’t like something sharp so close to him like that. But she was quite adept with the razor, and he imagined she’d had lots of practice. With a sure hand, she easily took away this vestige of his adulthood, and he looked down in amazement at his bald crotch. It looked so strange. He lay back and lifted his legs, as instructed, and she continued down around his bottom. Doug idly wondered how long his hair would take to grow back, but he needn’t have. It wouldn’t be an issue for a long time. When they were done, he let her lead him back into his bedroom, where she diapered him for the first time. She did it tenderly, stroking and rubbing him gently. It felt good, he had to admit. He fought feelings of affection for her as she did this, but it was hard. She was so gentle and loving as she covered him with lotion and powder, lots of powder, and then taped him securely in. It actually felt nice, though he tried to ignore this. This was the same lady who had just spanked him. His ambivalence frustrated him. Afterward, she picked up the copy of the rules that he had laying by the bed (“Why didn’t I read those?” he asked himself again) and led him, wearing nothing but his diaper, downstairs to the sofa, where she read the rules out loud to him, like a bedtime story. [SEE RULES] OFFICIAL ICP RULES Welcome to your new life! Welcome to your Incontinence Control Program (ICP)! The philosophy of our program is based on the idea that “Continence Comes First.” As you know, continence is one of the very first skills you learn, and is a prerequisite to successful functioning in our society. If you are incontinent, whether you are a baby learning for the first time, or someone like yourself who needs to start over from the beginning, controlling incontinence and regaining continence should take precedence over all other aspects of your life. Otherwise, everything else in your life will suffer. Our program is successful because it helps you properly prioritize your incontinence, which is the first step toward controlling and, later, eliminating this embarrassing problem. There are three essential elements to your personal ICP. First, as is true with any problem, the most important step is admitting from the start that you have a problem. Many of our incontinent clients have trouble admitting that they have trouble with such a basic issue as keeping their pants dry or clean. After all, even small children master keeping their pants clean and dry. To help you face up to this very real problem, we force you to confront your incontinence continually via the wearing and usage of adult-sized baby diapers. They are a visible and tactile symbol of your inability to stay clean and dry. The day to day care of your diapers and diaper area, as well as the difficulty you will face in hiding them from other people, will constantly remind you that you do indeed have an childish problem which needs prompt and constant attention. The second part of your ICP is control, the literal center of your program’s name. You were enrolled in this program, at least in part, because of a demonstrated habit of wetting or messing in your pants or bed. You do not need to be told how embarrassing wet or messy pants can be around other people. Even one accident has the potential to ruin relationships, job opportunities, and other critical aspects of your life. Repeated accidents almost guarantee social and business ostracism. To help you salvage the rest of your life before it is permanently damaged, we offer, via diapers, a foolproof method of preventing these all-too-visible accidents. And while having the occasional person find out that you wear diapers might seem embarrassing to you, it does not even come close to approximating the devastating effects of an unprotected accident in public. Wearing a diaper tells the people that do find out about them that you are aware of, are responsible for, and are taking effective actions against these repulsive social gaffes. It may very well impress them! The third principle of our program is essential and, at the same time, often painful: discipline. It is, however, the cornerstone of your hope to regain your continence, and it must take priority right from the outset. We involve discipline in our program in many different ways. For example, we know that it’s difficult to submit to the embarrassment of wearing diapers all the time. But the very act of trying to live with this embarrassment is excellent disciplinary training. So is maintaining good diaper hygiene on a daily basis. And so is following the list of rules which follows, and submitting to punishment when appropriate. Punishment can play a small or large role in our ICPs, depending on your dedication to the ICP rules. It is primarily designed to instill discipline, which is often lacking in clients like yourself. It may be, in fact, the lack of such discipline which has led to your inability to remain toilet-trained. Your participation in this program will hopefully lead you to develop the kind of discipline that will allow you to begin the second stage of your ICP, your Continence Retraining Program. But that’s a long way off in the future! For now, we simply want you to concentrate on your ICP. As you can see, with diapers and discipline, we can help you face your incontinence problem, control embarrassing accidents, and create a foundation of discipline upon which you can build for years to come. This is the philosophy of our program here at TIC. It has proven to be very effective both in controlling our clients’ incontinence and also in maintaining participation in our program over the long run, an area where other programs often fall short. How long will you be in your ICP? This is a question often asked but difficult to answer. People vary in the severity of their incontinence problems and in their attitude about their ICPs. Not cooperating with us will delay your progression toward getting off of probation and moving toward retraining. Since the critical goal is for you to achieve a certain level of discipline and control, there is no upper limit to how long you may have to stay in your ICP. You have signed a legal contract to participate in your ICP, and this binds you to continue with us until the TIC person in charge of your care and training (your TIC mommy) believes you are ready to move on. And this depends entirely on you and how you respond to your ICP. Cooperation makes TIC very happy, and you will move that much more quickly toward being able to use a toilet and wearing underpants again. Think of that! It certainly is something to work toward! So read these rules carefully and refer to them often. Post the mini-list at the end in several prominent places around your home, to help you remember how to be a good boy. Good luck, and be good! DIAPERS: Your assigned diaper, to be supplied to you by your TIC mommy, is to be worn by you AT ALL TIMES. This means twenty-four hours/day, everywhere you go (eg. while sleeping, to school, to work, on errands, to doctor’s appointments, to the beach, etc.). While embarrassment about wearing your diaper is common and natural, it is very important to wear one at all times. The only exceptions are that you may briefly remove your diaper for changing purposes or for baths/showers; try to make the time you spend out of your diaper for these purposes as brief as possible, while still maintaining good diaper-area hygiene. To help you remember to wear your diaper constantly, we have by this time, or will have in the near future, removed all your big-boy underpants from your home, and you will not be allowed to own any in the future, until such time as you are continent again. You may think of wearing underpants as a privilege to be earned, just as if you were a small child. To be allowed to wear your underpants again, you need to demonstrate a high level of continence skill. NOTE: Many pools and beaches forbid infants in diapers to swim in the water. THIS INCLUDES YOU, and so even though it is inconvenient, we ask you to obey these signs where they are posted. Rules are there to be obeyed. DISCIPLINE: Especially during your initial probation period, you will be checked often to be sure you are wearing your diaper. Your TIC mommy will have a key and permission to enter your home, and may enter unannounced up to several times a day, including overnight, to make sure you are being a good boy. School and work schedules will be furnished to your TIC mommy, and you will notify her of dates and errands, so that she may check on you during these times outside your home as well. For specific disciplinary measures, see below under “DISCIPLINE.” TOILET VS. DIAPER USAGE: For the foreseeable future, until your TIC mommy tells you differently, you are to use your diaper for all your bowel and bladder needs. This means that you are not to use any toilet at all until you are told that it is okay to do so. Unauthorized toilet usage will be met with severe penalties from your TIC mommy. At your home we help you by preventing toilet usage completely, usually by turning off, draining, and locking all of your home’s toilets. We add urine-sensitive blue dye to the remaining toilet water, and your TIC mommy will check the toilets (every day at first) to make sure that you have been good. If you live with roommates or a spouse who needs to use the toilets, we will either give them other special dyes, or keys to unlock the toilets, and they will be asked to take an active role in preventing you from using them. Public and guest restrooms elsewhere cannot be similarly equipped, of course, but remember that TIC mommies usually know where their TIC “babies” are, and almost always have an eye on them wherever they are. They may follow them personally, or hire other friendly babysitters to keep their eyes on you while you are at work or out shopping. Be aware that even suspicious loitering around a public restroom, let alone going in, may be grounds for serious punishment. In the interest of avoiding painful misunderstandings, please stay away from these areas and simply use your diaper appropriately. The other way in which you are encouraged to use your diapers is through the recollection of used diapers. As you take off a wet or messy diaper, wrap it up and place it in the bag placed in your diaper pail by your TIC mommy. At the end of each week, when your new diapers are delivered, we will pick up your bag(s) of used diapers for you. TIC counts them and compares the total for the week with your quota, which is set by your TIC mommy. This number will be calculated to estimate your weekly diaper needs at full usage. Therefore, if you turn in fewer than your quota, we know you’ve used a toilet and/or not worn your diaper all the time. This, of course, necessitates punishment. Please note the following as well: Your quota includes a total minimum number of diapers, IN ADDITION TO specifically a minimum number of messy diapers for the week. This minimum number of messy diapers is usually nine diapers per week, or just over one messy diaper each day. Each diaper must be fully “used,” ie. the wetness indicator in disposables >2/3 wet. This includes messy diapers. Diapers are tested by TIC for genuineness of urine with special chemical tests. These tests can determine if you’ve “doctored” a diaper (eg. added water, peed onto it while not wearing it, etc.). Extensive experience allows us to easily identify these diapers and the bad little boys who try to mislead us, and punishment for this infraction is particularly severe. Not meeting diaper quotas will obviously lead to punishment and/or “help.” See below. HYGIENE: Diaper are hygiene is extremely important in preventing diaper rash, which will make you very uncomfortable, and which often requires embarrassing trips to see the doctor. It is also a good way to practice your discipline, and to prove to your TIC mommy that you are a responsible and disciplined client. Hygiene includes: Shaving: It is expected that you will keep your diaper area (ie. ALL hair on skin that is covered by your diaper) closely shaven at all times. TIC mommies will begin checking your diaper area within twenty-four hours from when you start your ICP to make sure you are well-shaven. We recommend that you shave yourself every two to three days to keep yourself clean and comfortable. Shaving makes messy cleanups MUCH easier, and provides less area for diaper rash to fester. Your TIC mommy hates to see hair down there! She will check you often to see that your skin is as smooth now as it was during your first infancy. Showers/baths: We recommend showers or bubble baths every day. Many clients enjoy showering right after removing a messy diaper, to help them clean up. This is fine as long as you keep your bathtub/shower well-cleaned from day to day. Your TIC mommy will check this. During showers or baths you are expected to wash your diaper area very thoroughly, including both orifices. These are areas with very sensitive skin which must be kept clean. Diaper changes: Since you must use every diaper fully, which often means wearing a diaper long after it has been initially wet or dirtied, it is critical that you use vaseline, lotions, and/or powder to keep your skin in good shape. It is generally up to you to choose what combination you like the best, though your TIC mommy may have some special rules or suggestions for you. She will also provide you with any and all supplies you may need for this purpose. SEX: By enrolling in this program you have promised not to engage in any sexual activity until after your restored continence has been documented and your participation in your ICP has been terminated. The parameters of this rule should be clear, but we have found it necessary in the past to elaborate on this point. “Sexual activity” for boys means any situation which involves an erection or orgasm/ejaculation. In other words, you are not allowed to ejaculate while in this program; this includes sex with other people as well as masturbation. The reasons for this are simple and important. It is a matter of priority. Incontinence control requires full concentration all day long, every day. Since boys use the same part of their bodies for urination as for sex, some boys become confused and/or preoccupied when faced with the opportunity to use their penises for more than one purpose. You need your full energy and concentration in order to return to full continence, and anything, like sex, which takes your mind off this process, is counterproductive. At TIC, we believe there is another benefit to abstaining from sex while in the program. We like to use it as an incentive to cooperate with us in restoring your lost control. It fits in with the rest of the program: think of it as though you are a little boy who is growing up slowly. Parents use the promise of underpants as inducement toward continence; we use this as well, plus the promise of once again being able to enjoy the grown-up pleasures of sex. Babies don’t have sex, and while you are in diapers, neither will you. We know, however, that boys like you have trouble controlling their strong sexual urges, so we have devised several ways to help. First, we obtain agreements from significant others not to participate in sexual activity with you, to actively discourage you from engaging in any activity, and to report any suspected or witnessed activity to us directly, so that we may help you in avoiding such activity in the future. Second, we try to eliminate opportunities and the temptation for you to indulge in these naughty acts when you are alone, via several ways: You must always wear your diaper, as already mentioned. All diapers are meticulously tested chemically for ejaculate (eg. semen, sperm, etc.) when turned in. All disposable paper products are removed from your home permanently. You have no need for toilet paper, and other needs, such as kleenex or paper towels, can be satisfied with cloth products like handkerchieves or towels. All laundry is examined carefully by your TIC mommy before you are allowed to wash it. You are not allowed to touch yourself between the legs, even through your diapers, for any purpose other than cleaning, and these times are to be kept brief. Because some boys have demonstrated extreme resourcefulness in deceiving us, chemicals have been added to your sinks and bathtub/shower which will turn bright red if these surfaces come into contact with any ejaculate. These chemicals are permanent and are impossible to remove (this has been tried, and trust us, it does not work). Breaking the sex prohibition is treated very harshly, with both punitive and preventative measures often being taken. We believe strongly that sexual activity must be avoided by you at all costs, and we will work with you to eliminate these acts if they become a problem. This is a supreme example of how discipline plays a role in your ICP. If you believe you may have a problem with masturbation or other naughty activities in the future, please discuss this with your TIC mommy from the outset, so that we may prevent any problems from occurring. DISCIPLINE: As one of the central tenets in your ICP, discipline is obviously very important. In addition to the aforementioned role it plays in successful continence, it plays a large role in encouraging your active participation in this program as well. Discipline comes in two varieties in your ICP: self-imposed, the kind we want you to develop for yourself, and externally-imposed, in the form of punishment. Both of these types, if you have not already encountered them, will become very familiar to you in the near future. When we sat down to devise the punishments we thought would be most helpful to you in developing your discipline, we decided to focus on what would be most meaningful to you in your ICP. In keeping with the idea that you are starting from the beginning again (eg. wearing diapers, looking forward to toilet-training, etc.), we thought that a most infantile punishment, the spanking, might be most appropriate. It not only reminds you of your infantile incontinence, but it will reinforce your relationship with your TIC mommy, which ought to be that of a mother-toddler. There should be an element of nurturing and caretaking, but also an element of strict discipline as well. This mother-toddler relationship is a perfect analogy of what we think will work best; after all, nature uses it every day to teach continence the first time! The following list includes brief glimpses of some of the more common punishments doled out by mommies in the past. It is certainly not exclusive, and mommies have the liberty to devise and use nearly any sort of punishment if they think it will help you improve your self-discipline. The only limitations are that we ask TIC mommies to tone down punishment in public, unless necessary, and we forbid any punishment that might lead to permanent physical injury. Spankings: These are often the straightforward and old-fashioned type, with you being bare-bottomed and over your TIC mommy’s knee, given with an open hand. However, they are subject to modification by inventive mommies. In certain circumstances they may be given in public (see below) but usually are given in the privacy of your home. Given for a wide variety of offenses, including not wearing your diapers, poor hygiene, not shaving, backtalk, disobeying your mommy, touching yourself, having an unauthorized orgasm, being spotted near a public restroom, and going on errands without first telling your TIC mommy. Spankings are usually given without warnings beforehand, so if you have a doubt about whether you might be breaking a rule, ASK. The Wet Bet: This is a favorite of our mommies, so look out. TIC mommies love to visit their babies in public places and check to see if they are wearing their diapers by challenging them with the Wet Bet. It is not to be feared by good little boys who always wear their diapers, but it can become quite an embarrassing or painful problem for naughty little boys caught without their diapers on. In the Wet Bet, your mommy will bet you that you are wearing your diaper, and will then ask you to wet it for her. Good boys wind up with a wet diaper that simply needs changing, but bad boys end up with very wet pants in very public places. Refusing to take the bet leads to an immediate spanking wherever you happen to be at the time. You are told about this at the beginning so that you are not tempted to go without your diaper in public. You WILL be asked to take the Wet Bet, so be good and always wear your diaper. Bowel Encouragement: This is not so much a punishment as an old-fashioned medicinal treatment. If you fail to turn in your required quota of messy diapers for the week, you force your mommy to conclude that you are constipated and need a little help moving your bowels. This is most often accomplished using the suppository series, wherein your mommy encourages you to move your bowels by giving you a series of powerful suppositories in sequential diapers during a twenty-four hour period. Each diaper must be worn until your mommy thinks the suppository has done its job fully, and then you may be changed and given a fresh suppository. We find this treatment to be very effective, and often one series is the only such treatment any one client ever needs to help keep him regular and obedient. Humiliation: As mentioned, driving home your infantile status is effective both in reminding you of your underlying problem and in reinforcing your relationship with your mommy. Humiliation, both formally and informally, is often used by our mommies to emphasize what they feel is undisciplined or immature behavior. Being forced to eat baby food, or to use bibs, bottles, baby talk, and baby clothing and furniture often makes the point very clearly to our clients. Each mommy has her own favorite ways of embarrassing you, so be warned now. Avoiding this treatment, or escaping it once it has started, is only accomplished by accepting your punishment like a big boy and following all the rules (ie. growing up in your mommy’s eyes). Some of this humiliation inevitably occurs in public, but you can minimize this by being as good as possible. Wearing diapers is embarrassing, we know. Don’t make things any worse. Misc. Our mommies have your permission to use other forms of corporal, psychological, and diaper punishment on you at any time if it is felt appropriate and abides by the rules outlined above. A final word: no one is perfect, so you can expect to be punished, probably many times, over the duration of your ICP. We have yet to meet an ICP boy who doesn’t need an occasional spanking, or who isn’t better behaved afterward. (Of course, we also have yet to meet an ICP boy who thinks he needs the spanking! We wouldn’t expect any less. Boys are boys, after all.) How often will you be spanked? That is entirely up to you. Nobody likes to be punished, but our goal is to try to help you become more responsible and disciplined, and your punishment will help you move closer toward getting out of your diapers and back into underpants. It might be difficult to recall how good the punishment is for you when you are perched on a lap sunny-side up, or if you are forced to wet your pants in public, or spend an entire day in a VERY messy diaper, but if you can learn anything from it, it is worthwhile. Admit your mistake, accept your punishment, learn from it, and move on. 6) PROBATION: You are automatically on probation when you begin your ICP. While on probation you are subject to very close supervision and very strict discipline. Visits from your mommy to home and in public are frequent, and punishment is more severe. Its duration may vary in length from several weeks to several years, in the worst case, depending on your cooperation and attitude. Your mommy will take you off of probation when she is convinced that you will unfalteringly adhere to the rules and the philosophy of your ICP. Most clients initially appreciate this attention to detail, but we view getting off probation as one of the initial signs that you may be developing enough discipline to merit terminating your ICP and beginning toilet-re-training. 7) TERMINATION: Because our punishment often generates strong temporary urges to terminate participation in the ICP, we have made exit from an ICP relatively difficult, at the request of our clients. However, continence is the skill by which everyone in this program is judged, and if you demonstrate perfect continence, you may terminate your ICP. Our anticipation is that you will not regain continence until after finishing your ICP and undergoing our intense second step of the program, the Continence Retraining Program. You can take the short-cut, however, if you satisfy one of two criterion: a) Pass a continence test given to you by your TIC mommy. The use of mild “diaper juice” during a three hour continence test has been proved to be a reliable differentiator between who needs to be in our program and who does not. b) Get a signed note from an impartial physician testifying to your total continence of bowel and bladder. This is an available option only after six months of an ICP, since this is the established minimally therapeutic time in our program. Your TIC mommy will furnish you with a list of TIC-recognized physicians eligible to evaluate your continence status. Your mommy may ask you to obey certain other rules, and she, of course, has every authority to impose them on you. It is difficult to follow an ICP correctly all the time, but TIC has a proven history of EFFECTIVE INCONTINENCE CONTROL. Your full cooperation makes our job easier and your life more enjoyable. Good luck, and be a good boy! MINI-LIST OF RULES (to be posted in prominent places in your home) ALWAYS wear your diapers. Use them and them alone for all of your potty needs. Keep yourself CLEAN and SHAVEN. Use your diapers COMPLETELY, and SAVE them in your diaper pail for your TIC mommy. NEVER touch yourself in naughty ways or have any sort of sexual activity. ALWAYS do what your TIC mommy tells you to do. ACCEPT YOUR PUNISHMENT and try to learn from it. LOVE your mommy; she’s here to help! As he listened to the introduction, he fought the tendency to buy into the philosophy. But it sounded almost reasonable to him, and he wondered if they really did care about him and about helping him. But then again, it was so perverse. How could it be on the level? It was so extremely humiliating, he thought, to be lumped in with people who wet their pants or their beds, and to be treated like he was a baby. And how could they think this would really “help” him? They couldn’t be serious. This wasn’t a joke or a game. They really were going to treat him like a baby, on purpose, because they said he deserved it. The whole thing, “Working toward wearing underpants again,” made him feel so infantile. It really was stupid, he decided, not helpful. They couldn’t fool him. Other thoughts that ran through his mind as Mrs. Warren read what was to become his bible for the foreseeable future involved how he could fake compliance with these rules. There had to be flaws he could find. He was smart, and he had to be able to figure it out. Unfortunately, Mrs. Warren was smart, too, maybe even smarter, and she appeared experienced at this job. As she read the diaper rules, he saw how smart she was. Testing diapers seemed like a lot of work for her! But if they really did it, that neutralized many of his first disobedient ideas. He wondered if they really did do it, and how. He was trying to think about how he could fake using the diapers (peeing into them without really wearing them, etc.) when his new Mommy told him how her inspectors look for wetting patterns like splattering that gives away bad babies. Wet diapers have to look right, she said, which is impossible without wearing them. He became even more dismayed about the messy diaper quota and rules. He didn’t look forward to having to “fully use” his messy diapers. That meant wearing them for a while after he pooped, right? Being forced to wear messy diapers was gross, and would significantly add to his cleanup time. Using a shower would help, but what if he was away from home? The part about avoiding public bathrooms struck him as being impossible to enforce. Then he remembered how she had gone over with him his shopping and banking habits. She really would know where he was all the time. But seriously--who would be watching? He also had to call her whenever he left his apartment to go out. Doug could just leave a message on her cellular phone mail, so she could keep track of him all the time. But Mrs. Warren said she had other “clients.” How did she keep track of all of them? He thought that maybe this was an opportunity. He’d have to keep it in mind. It was when they got to the sex prohibition that he really got depressed. From the moment she read him the rules, he knew he’d never be able to follow them. He could nearly accept being forced to live his secret fetish and ultimate fantasy. It was painful, confining, and humiliating, but at least it was his fetish. He was even now feeling strong sexualurg es, and it was these that he thought would make this lifestyle palatable. But no sex? No masturbation? He couldn’t imagine. He now did that daily, and that was without a diaper in contact with him. Being sentenced to be in perpetual contact with his fetish object but never being allowed to climax, this was the best description of hell he could think of. He couldn’t live with that rule. He’d either have to get out of the program (which he was still determined to do) or figure out some way of getting around it. But his heart sunk as he listened to her precautions. He didn’t know where he could hide the evidence if his diapers, tissues, laundry, and tub/sinks were off limits. Could she really test all of these? That red dye sounded fake. And what if he smuggled home some tissues and then threw them away back at work? Hmmm… His mind wandered as she read him about his discipline. Spankings, and some wet thing, messy diapers, blah, blah, blah. How had this happened to him? It had only taken four days for his life to be ruined by two women. He’d just wanted some diapers for this week, for a little kinky fun. Now, he was living a nightmare, forced back into an embarrassing toddlerhood filled with spankings and diapers. He had just allowed himself to be spanked and shaved. He felt so degraded. How could this be real? But the alternatives were even worse, he told himself. At least this way, the rest of his life was still intact, and if he could somehow still get out of this program, nothing would be lost. He was still on target for his high-prestige life of research and academia, somewhere in the future. His dream was still intact, even if he had to sacrifice a little more for a few days or weeks to achieve it. Doug’s attention was refocused when she started talking about termination of the program. Another continence test, which he didn’t want to think about, or a trip to a doctor. That would be embarrassing, sure, but at least it couldn’t be tampered with. At least here was a foolproof way out, if everything else failed and six months from now he was still in diapers. This made him feel better: there was an upper limit to this madness. At the most, this surreal distraction would end in six months, and then he could return to his life. Mrs. Warren finished her little dramatic reading and helped him tape up copies of the mini-list all over his apartment. She then assured him she’d be back often in the next few days and nights to check on him. After a fond little pat on his diapered behind, she left. Doug watched his Mommy drive away in her pink pastel diaper van, and snaked his hands down the back of his diaper, finally able to rub his still-sore bottom in peace. Chapter 7 When Doug had spent several minutes soothing his hot, red bottom, he sat down in stunned amazement to consider what his life had suddenly been turned into. He thought of the mounds of diapers up in his room, destined to be worn and used by him in the near future. He thought of being forced to call Mrs. Warren “Mommy,” and essentially forced to do anything she told him to do. It was so humiliating. How could he possibly live with this? But what could he do? he asked himself. He told himself over and over that he had no choice. That it didn’t matter how he got here and what he thought about it. He simply had to play baby now, or risk losing the rest of his life. It was unfair, and miserable, but he had to be realistic: it was his only option if he didn’t want to be the laughingstock of his family, friends, and colleagues. He stared down at the bulky diaper he had sentenced himself to wear. Because he had gotten cute and self-righteous over the phone with Mrs. Sheffield, he was now going to wear the thickest, loudest diaper ever. It would undoubtedly be noticeable, and even more embarrassing was how much he had contributed to this situation. If he hadn’t gone into the store, if he hadn’t lied about being incontinent, if he hadn’t lied about wanting such an unmanageable diaper, if he hadn’t agreed to the incontinence test…there were so many ways he could have avoided this, he thought. But at every step, he’d made the wrong move, and now he was stuck. Stuck in a diaper so thick he wasn’t sure he could even masturbate through it, even if that was allowed. But, of course, he had been operating under the assumption that this was a game of which he had control. He now knew differently, but it was too late. This diaper service was a business, and a serious one at that. And he had just contracted them to enslave him in diapers. He snorted. It sounded like a dream come true. But--at least according to how his bottom felt right now--it was closer to a nightmare. He had to take this situation day by day. If he tried to deal with the whole thing, he’d get too depressed. But if he only thought about the next day, he could get through. Tomorrow wouldn’t be too bad. In fact, this week wouldn’t be too embarrassing, since he was studying at home alone. This was almost what he had intended for this week, anyway. No one had to know. Next week would be interesting, though, when he went back to work. How would he ever keep his co-workers in the dark? Bulky clothes, he mused… His real life would be quite a challenge. For the next day, though, his job was easy. Study as much as possible from his GRE Review Book, and, in the words of Mrs. Warren, “be a good little boy.” He actually didn’t care how ridiculous that sounded: right now, and for as long as his bottom kept hurting, he was happy to wear his diaper compliantly, and do anything else he needed to. He wasn’t interested in risking another spanking right now. Doug was surprised to find his diarrhea clearing up fairly quickly that afternoon. Mrs. Warren was right again, he thought. He didn’t like to admit it, but she seemed to know everything. And as his diarrhea slowed, he noticed that his diaper consumption was slowing as well. He thought about this idly during dinner. He would have to worry about this “diaper quota”. He calculated his usage for the week at his new, slower rate, and realized he’d be hard-pressed to wet enough diapers. And if he didn’t, he knew what awaited him. So he began to drink more that evening. This, he only half noticed, had the effect (desired by Mrs. Warren) of his spending more and more time in partially-wet diapers, as he conscientiously waited to saturate them fully. By the next day, Thursday, Doug was consciously starting to relax his sphincter control, wetting whenever he felt the urge. His diapers held almost anything, and as long as he had the opportunity to relax and not worry about control, why not? At this point, it wasn’t like it was important whether he tried to hold it back or not. The rules didn’t reward him for that! So who needs it? If I have to be a baby, I might as well take advantage of it, he thought. It’s the only perk of this stupid situation, after all. On Thursday, for the first time, Doug felt the need for the first time to have a real, formed BM. This was another little landmark for him, since it involved using his diaper for an “optional” mess: it wasn’t like the diarrhea, where he was controlling an emergent situation. It also necessitated wearing the diaper for some time afterward, since he hadn’t wet in it yet. It usually felt good, but today, as he squished around in his full pants, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being forced to do this, to wear his poop-filled diaper. Mrs. Warren was making him do this, and for some reason that made it less fun. Mrs. Warren stopped by occasionally and was pleased when she checked Doug’s diaper, diaper pail, toilets, and tub. She acknowledged his good behavior with a sticker on his refrigerator, about which she said he should be proud. He found it difficult to get excited about a sticker. It was just one more embarrassing element to this absurd program. Mrs. Warren had expected this good behavior. It was typical of her new boys for the first few days, what she called the “honeymoon” period. Their bottoms still stung, and the potential humiliation of the photos was still fresh in their minds. They also weren’t yet bored with the program, and hadn’t had enough time to build up a huge amount of sexual tension. This would all change, she knew... Doug did come up with some questions for Mrs. Warren, however, as he found minor problems with the ICP. How, for example, was he supposed to blow his nose if she had forbidden all paper products from his apartment? It was easily solved, Mrs. Warren said, by using an old-fashioned handkerchief, which, like his other laundry, was to be inspected by her before he took it to the complex’s laundry room. Working out details to another problem, Doug agreed to shave himself every other day to keep his bottom and groin smooth. On Friday, he did this for the first time, and found that it wasn’t too difficult, except for his ego. Saturday was the day of his big test, and, knowing this, Mrs. Warren showed up at his apartment early in the morning to see him off. She presented him with a large, pink pastel diaper bag, which he was not so pleased to receive. It was so frilly and infantile that it could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was. He pled his case to her that it was just too embarrassing to take out in public, but Mrs. Warren said that it was more important to be prepared properly than to be socially comfortable, and she therefore wouldn’t accept his excuses. This brought up an issue Doug hadn’t considered before. Surely there would be times when he’d have to change himself in public, but how was this possible if he wasn’t allowed near restrooms? It wasn’t so hard, said Mrs. Warren. First of all, any time he went out, he should already have informed her, so that she or a babysitter could watch him. If the possibility of needing a change existed, they would know about it, and could appropriately interpret his usage of a bathroom. If he used it to change himself, he should naturally have a used diaper to show for it, and this could be checked when he arrived home. He was, however, warned that any trip to a public restroom would be carefully watched and, often, timed. Some of his “babysitters” might even be male and could follow him in. Any activity conspicuous for masturbation or using a toilet would be punished as such. As long as he hurried and was a good boy, he’d be okay. So he went off with his pink diaper bag to take his test. It lasted through lunch, and he found that by restricting fluids, he didn’t have a problem needing a change. This was a relief for him. No one even noticed his bag, or his bulky bottom, or his waddle, or his rustling, probably because everyone was so preoccupied with the test. Doug came home from the test impressed with his academic performance, considering all the stress he’d been under during the preceding week. With the test finished Saturday night, though, Doug started thinking about the future. He was worried about going grocery shopping tomorrow, his first errand outside his apartment wearing diapers. He also started thinking more long-term, and he was already tired of wearing these huge diapers. It was a pain. In all of his fantasies, he’d never imagined he could miss the convenience of the toilet, but he was starting to. It took longer to change messy diapers, and cleaning himself was tedious and, often, gross. Fussing with tapes and getting the fit right took practice. It would be so much easier to pop into a bathroom and use a urinal. In addition, there was also the growing problem of his mounting sexual appetite. He hadn’t come in several days, and that was just about a record for him. Plus, he wasn’t excited about resuming his public life on Monday when he went back to work. Hiding these bulky diapers might be impossible, and would at the very least be a huge social burden he’d have to deal with constantly. All in all, he was beginning to feel far less obedient than he had over the past few days. He was starting to see that, just as he’d feared, he couldn’t live this life constantly. It wasn’t practical or desirable. If he was going to cope, he’d have to figure out some ways to cut corners, to express his independence in little, harmless ways, and to maintain a vestige of his former autonomy. He mulled this over in his head, before forming a plan for tomorrow. He needed groceries. He assumed he’d be followed, or something, but he wondered how Mrs. Warren would follow him if she didn’t know he’d left. What if he left right after she visited tomorrow? She never returned right away. She’d never know. And if she didn’t know, he could venture out without his diaper, and not risk embarrassment tomorrow at the store… It made him a little nervous to think about, but it had to work, right? If he was scared, he could always take along a diaper in the car, into which he might be able to change quickly if he somehow met Mrs. Warren on the way there or back. And he’d hurry, to cut down further the chance of being discovered. The risk, he calculated, had to be miniscule. And the symbolism, and implications for later, were enormous to him. If he could poke a little hole in her regime, there might be other opportunities later. His life might end up being manageable after all. Doug went to sleep Saturday night excited, with the first bit of hope about the future that he’d had in days. As he settled into bed, feeling the now-familiar thick cushion between his legs, and hearing the omnipresent crinkling of his diaper, he could hardly wait until for what the next day would bring. If he’d known what would really happen, however, he wouldn’t have wanted ever to wake up. Mrs. Warren visited Doug around noon on Sunday, which was great for Doug’s plans. After she left, he watched the diaper van exit the apartment complex’s parking lot, and as soon as it disappeared, he ran upstairs and took off his diaper. He was going to leave it at home, but on second thought, just to be safe, he folded it carefully and decided to take it with him, on the off chance he saw Mrs. Warren on the way to the grocery store. He wasn’t going to take any chances. He pulled his jeans back up, and immediately noticed how strange not wearing a diaper felt after only a couple of days. It felt weirder, of course, because he didn’t have any underwear to wear, so his normally-insulated skin was in direct contact with his rough jeans. In addition, for the first time in fifteen years, he had no pubic hair, so he felt the odd sensation of breezes drifting through his crotch periodically. But he had to hurry. He didn’t want to be out of his diaper for more than forty-five minutes this first time. It would be too horrible if she found out. Later, he might explore the limits of his freedom, but right now he wanted to play it very conservatively. So he took the spare diaper, grabbed his keys, and jumped into the car. He drove carefully to the grocery store, keeping an eye out for pastel-colored vans, but as he expected, didn’t see any. He quickly made his way inside the store, grabbed a cart, and efficiently started collecting the items he needed. He was organized and fast; he wanted to take no chances. He breezed through several aisles before seeing the one thing that could make his heart skip a beat. Mrs. Warren was in the store! He saw her near the cash registers, but she didn’t see him, he thought. She didn’t have a cart, so it appeared that she must just be looking for something specific. Suddenly it hit him. She was looking for him. He didn’t know how, but she’d found him. He peeked down an aisle and saw her crossing it at the other end. He knew what he had to try to do: guess where she was heading, and go the other way. He could still escape, get home, and get into a diaper before she caught him. It wasn’t a sure bet, but it was possible. He could be quite savvy in these situations. But damn! How had she found him? And now he questioned why he had even taken this chance. His bottom tingled. He didn’t want to cross this lady again. He was still a little sore from the first spanking, for God’s sake. Forty-five minutes out of a diaper was hardly worth this risk, he belatedly realized. Thinking quickly, Doug reversed his direction and turned down an aisle, pushing his cart with urgency. He was halfway down the aisle, thinking he might actually make it past the registers and safely to his car, when Mrs. Warren suddenly appeared directly in front of him at the end of the aisle. How?..Doug froze in panic. Seeing him, she turned and strode toward him. Doug began to feel queasy. What would happen now? He was in an extremely vulnerable situation: he’d snuck out of the apartment without telling her, and he wasn’t wearing his diaper. He feared the worst, and Mrs. Warren wasn’t one to disappoint. “Well, Douggie, what a surprise it is to see you here,” she said with more than a hint of sarcasm. “I didn’t know you were headed out. Maybe we’ve forgotten some of our rules?” She paused, letting her eyes sweep over him in a quick, practiced assessment of his diaper status. Doug felt his body tense; he (correctly) surmised that she now knew that he was undiapered. He stared at her face, looking for any sign of this fact, but her expression didn’t change. “Well, Doug, I know it’s early in your ICP, and there are a lot of rules to remember, so why don’t we go easy on you here?” she said, with just a little too much sweetness in her voice for Doug’s taste. “We’ll just play the Wet Bet and leave it at that. Okay? If you win, no punishment for leaving home without telling me. But,” she smiled at him knowingly. “If you lose, you lose.” Doug's mind swirled. The Wet Bet. He’d read about it, he thought. But what was it? She read his mind. “I know you haven’t yet played this little game, so I’ll describe it for you. It’s very simple. I make a bet with you that you’re not wearing your diaper now. I know you’re a good little boy, so I’m sure I’m wrong, but you just need to prove it to me. “So I ask you to wet for me right now. You pee, and then we see who wins the bet. If you win, and you’re wearing your diaper, then you only end up with a wet diaper that we can change very easily. If I win, and you don’t have a diaper on, that fact will become very obvious very soon. In that case…” Her voice trailed off, indicating the undesirability of that outcome. “But either way, I have to insist you take the bet.” She went on, “Your only other option would be a particularly severe spanking right here in this aisle. Most of my boys don’t like their pants pulled down in public, so I don’t get to do that very often. They always take the bet.” She sort of smirked at him. “Well, what’ll it be? You wanna take the bet?” Now Doug was scared. She had him pinned against a wall, and she knew it. Wetting his pants in public versus a spanking in public. He’d had a spanking before, though, and decided that even public humiliation by wetting his pants be better than that. Anything would be better than a public spanking! He swallowed hard, as he realized he really had no choice. At least if he sucked it up and wet himself right now he’d avoid any other punishment. It would be humiliating, but it would be otherwise painless, and over very quickly. Then he could go right home and change. He stared at the floor and nodded. She smiled cruelly, though he didn’t see it. “That’s a good boy. Now, here’s how we’ll do it. I’ll turn around, and you can start peeing. Then you’ll tell me when you’re done, and we’ll try to figure out who won. If your pants are dry, I’ll need to see your diaper, of course, to make sure you didn’t cheat. That would earn you a spanking, too.” She smiled that fake smile again as she said, “Of course, I’m sure you wouldn’t cheat.” He nodded nervously. “Okay,” she said, turning away to pretend to look at some spaghetti. “Fire when ready.” Doug glanced nervously down the aisle both ways. Not seeing anyone, he tried to relax and empty his bladder. He felt a trickle come out, and then more, so he said, “Okay.” She said, “Okay, keep going. Ten seconds should be enough.” Doug grimaced. He felt his urine rush out now. He really had needed to go. That was unfortunate. He looked down and watched in horror as his crotch darkened quickly, and then he shuddered as he felt hot pee flowing down his legs, soaking his jeans. The insides of his pants legs turned dark blue, and he felt his socks get warm and wet before he saw his tennis shoes flood and then overflow. It would be unmistakable to anyone who saw him what had just happened. By the time he figured ten seconds was up, he was standing in soaking wet jeans, in a small puddle on the floor. In a weak voice, he said, “I’m done, um, Mommy.” (Maybe she wouldn’t make fun of him if he buttered her up.) He just wanted to go home and change his pants. They were already turning cold and uncomfortable. But when Mrs. Warren turned and saw Doug in wet pants, her expression changed to one of anger, something he’d not seen since that first morning last week. He watched her with growing apprehension as she opened her large purse and pulled out what he recognized as one of his diapers. How did she know to bring one, he thought idly. And what was it for? “Here,” she snapped. “You’ll need this.” She put the diaper in one of his hands and grabbed the other. She yanked on his arm, dragging him with her in the direction of the registers. He tried to follow, uncertain of what was happening, but acutely aware now of his wet, heavy pants. They were already starting to cool and feel uncomfortable. He hoped they were headed outside to the car, but his hopes sank as she led him up to the nearest register. Doug withered with embarrassment as moms and children turned and one by one saw him, wearing wet pants and holding a large diaper. “Could you tell me where the little boys’ room is?” Mrs. Warren inquired of the young lady at the register. She looked a little younger than he, and had surprisingly large breasts. Doug couldn’t help staring at her blond hair and beautiful face. Mrs. Warren was not similarly mesmerized: “I’ve got one who needs his pants changed.” The checkout girl’s eyes widened, and she nodded slowly. “Yes, he sure does. He seems a little big to be having accidents.” Mrs. Warren snorted with derision. “Well, he’s apparently not as big as he seems, is he?” The girl took a moment to study Doug’s stained jeans. “No, I guess not. Well, that’s what the diaper’s for, right? Too bad for him he wasn’t in one earlier,” she giggled, seeing Mrs. Warren’s obvious anger at Doug. Noting the determination on her face as well, she added, “I bet he’ll wear one from now on. But anyway, the restrooms are in the back corner of the store. You can change him there.” Doug could have died. He felt his face burn with embarrassment. Could this day get any worse? “Thank you,” he heard Mrs. Warren say. “And I’m afraid this little boy also left a puddle in Aisle #3. If you give me a minute to get him dressed a little more appropriately, I can have him back out to clean it up.” The girl nodded, staring hard at Doug’s pants, clearly trying not to laugh. “That’s fine, but you probably need to see the manager first. She likes to know about things like this, and she can get him a mop or something. Oh, by the way, if you need more diapers for him, we ARE having a sale on Attends down in Aisle 7.” “Thanks, but we’re very well stocked already. Trust me, we have to be. Now, where is your manager?” The girl pointed at the other front corner of the store, so Mrs. Warren led Doug across the entire front of the store. They passed dozens of people in line to check out, and most of them turned and saw him. Doug started to feel lightheaded. This was horrible. The manager was on the phone in the customer service area, so they had to wait a moment before talking to her. Mrs. Warren still had an iron grip on Doug’s wrist, and Doug instinctively struggled a little to get her to loosen her grip. At this Mrs. Warren wheeled around with fire in her eyes and swatted his bottom. Since it was damp and undiapered, this stung quite a bit, not to mention the added embarrassment it caused him. He was being treated like a two year old, and the worst thing was, with his wet pants and stinging bottom, he felt just like one, too. “Don’t you mess with me, young man,” Mrs. Warren said loudly, so that she caught the attention of anyone in nearby lines who wasn’t already staring. “You’ve already done enough.” “Evidently so,” said the manager, a stout stern-looking woman who had finished her phone conversation and was now studying Doug’s pants with a disapproving gaze. “Looks like you’re a little late with the diaper, young man.” Mrs. Warren turned her attention to her, but kept a firm grip on Doug’s aching wrist. “Yes, ma’am. I was going to ask you if I could use your restroom to change his pants anyway. Afterward, I was hoping that he could clean up the little puddle he left in Aisle #3.” “Of course,” the manager said. “I’ll leave a bucket and mop in the back hallway for when he’s a little more properly attired,” she said, smiling at the diaper in Doug’s hand. She pointed them to the rear of the store, and Doug was now dragged at what felt like breakneck speed back past all the registers with lines of people whispering, down a side aisle, and to the back corner of the store. They turned in a short hallway and found a door marked “Restroom: Men/Women.” Mrs. Warren tried the door, but it was locked. She knocked, and a female voice inside said, “Just a second!” So they waited. Doug nervously held his diaper and tried to ignore the now stone-cold wetness of his pants and the pain in his wrist. Mrs. Warren was silent, staring away from him. Doug wanted to know what would happen in that little room, but he didn’t dare bother her. He assumed they would change his diaper and then come out and clean up the mess. He wasn’t looking forward to it. He spent his time telling himself how dumb he’d been, how he’d never sneak out or not wear his diaper again. Finally, the door opened and a woman came out. She caught sight of Doug with wet pants and a diaper in his hand, and gasped. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize I was taking so long.” Mrs. Warren spoke up right away. “Ma’am, don’t blame yourself. This happened out there in the store because someone wasn’t wearing his diaper like a good boy. I just need the bathroom so I can remedy the situation.” Doug was finally so embarrassed that he totally tuned out what was happening. He pretended he was somewhere else, and ignored this humiliating experience. “Oh,” said the woman, with a knowing look at Mrs.Warren. “Do you think he’s learned his lesson yet?” “I don’t know,” Mrs. Warren replied, “but I’ll make sure, just as soon as I can get his pants down in there and turn him over my knee.” The woman nodded sympathetically. “Well, good luck. Don’t go easy on that wet bottom, or he’ll never learn.” “Don’t worry,” Mrs. Warren assured her. “He won’t forget this.” The woman left, and Mrs. Warren pulled a distracted Doug into the small bathroom. She whipped him around and closed and locked the door, then let go of him. While Doug rubbed his wrist, Mrs. Warren sat down on the closed toilet seat. Doug stood quietly and watched as Mrs. Warren pulled out of her large black purse what looked like a changing pad. He had to admit to himself that this woman was always prepared. She must have known that she’d catch him, and had come with everything she’d need to put a diaper on him, he thought. And if he was going to have to lay down on this bathroom’s floor to be changed, he was actually pleased at the prospect of using a changing pad. But she didn’t spread it out on the floor. He grew sort of confused as he watched her smooth it out on her lap. He’d never heard of being changed on someone’s lap, but it was a small bathroom, and he was new to this. When the pad seemed well-smoothed out, Mrs. Warren addressed him sharply. “Alright, little boy. Get those pants down around your ankles.” Doug said, “Yes, Mommy,” trying to stay on her good side. She didn’t seem to be getting any less angry, which worried him a bit. He obeyed quickly, telling himself this was obviously a necessary step before he could be diapered. “Come face me,” she said shortly. He shuffled over to her. How was this going to work? “Hand me the diaper now, Doug.” So he held it out to her with his left hand. She’ll clearly need that, he thought. “The other hand,” she said, annoyed. That’s odd, he thought, as he obediently switched the diaper to his right hand and held it out to her. Why should that make a difference? He found out very quickly. Mrs. Warren reached out with her left hand and took the diaper from his right, as she simultaneously reached across her body with her other hand to grasp his outstretched wrist. In a smooth, strong, and practiced motion, she yanked on his right arm, turning him, throwing him off balance, and directing his fall across her lap perfectly. In the space of two seconds Doug was surprised to find himself suddenly staring at the bathroom floor. He saw Mrs. Warren set the diaper aside, and it dawned on him that she had something else entirely on her mind. It became clearer why she wanted the changing pad on her lap… But this shouldn’t be happening, he thought. They’d had a deal. “Hey!” he yelled in frustration. “That’s not fair! I took the bet!” “And you lost, little boy. So you get a spanking. Don’t you remember your rules? By taking the bet you simply prevented this from happening out there in the aisle where you wet your pants. Would you rather we do this out in the store where everyone can see what a bad baby boy you’ve been?” Pause. SMACK! Oops. He’d thought it was a rhetorical question. “No.” SMACK! “No, what?” “No, Mommy. I’m sorry.” “That’s better. Now let’s have a little discussion about your behavior today. Why don’t you start by explaining to me what you’ve done wrong since the last time I saw you.” He hated her. She was going to draw this out and make it even more humiliating than it already was. But he wasn’t really in a position to argue. So he told the floor in front of him. “I, um, took off my diaper, Mommy.” “Yes, and what else?” “I, well, I went out without telling you.” “That’s right. And does that make you a good little boy or a bad little boy?” “Bad.” SMACK! “I’m a bad little boy, Mommy.” “That’s true. And what do little boys like you need when they’re bad?” “They need a spanking, Mommy.” “So what do you need right now, Doug?” “I need a spanking, Mommy.” He was embarrassed and angry. Never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he’d hear himself say something like that. “That’s also true. And how many spankings do you think you need?” Doug’s blood ran cold. What!? She ought to be kidding, but so far, Mrs. Warren hadn’t kidded around very much. “I think I’d like one spanking, Mommy,” Doug said hopefully. SMACK! SMACK! Guess not, he thought. Damn. “I need two spankings, Mommy,” he said, aware that he’d begun to whimper a little. This was worse than he could have imagined. If that spanking last week was “one,” what must “two” be like? “That’s right, Doug. You need two spankings because you broke two different rules today. For my convenience, I’m just going to combine them into one long spanking, though. Now, just as a reminder, after our spanking, do we get to rub our bottom with our hands?” “No, Mommy.” Shit. He’d forgotten about that. “Why not?” Mrs. Warren asked with a little sadistic glee. “So it will hurt more,” Doug answered obediently. This was so horrible. And worse, his appreciation grew for the fact that he could never, ever tell anyone what he’d been through. It was too embarrassing almost to think about. No one would believe him. How would he get his real life back? “That’s a good boy. I know you can’t hold on to chair legs here, so just keep your hands down and out of the way. Any questions?” Yeah, he thought. What did I ever do to deserve this? To her, he managed a weak, “No, Mommy.” And his bottom tingled with expectation as he remembered vividly the pain from last week. He cursed himself again for having tried such an unnecessary prank. Never again, he promised himself as the spanking began. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! The pain was unbearable right from the beginning, and the knowledge that it would not soon stop and the humiliation and stress he’d already endured caused Doug to start crying almost immediately. Unfortunately, Mrs. Warren actually seemed annoyed by this, and she redoubled her efforts to paddle his bottom. He sobbed, and she spanked mercilessly, until they were both out of breath. Doug was grateful when she stopped, though it turned out it was only to remove a small, flat, hairbrush from her purse. This, he realized, would be the second spanking. His bottom was sort of numb from the first one, but he was startled to realize how much more painful it was than her bare hands. He cried all the way through. When it had lasted longer than Doug thought possible, Mrs. Warren stopped and stood him up. Tears streaming down his face, Doug’s hands immediately and instinctively made their way to his red, hot bottom. He rubbed it as he cried, trying to overwhelm the searing pain that still raged through his rear end. Mrs. Warren reached over, grabbed one of his arms, now limp as spaghetti from his ordeal, swung him around and swatted him several times again. “No touching, little boy,” she fumed. “Do it again and we can start over from the beginning.” Doug fought through his tears to find the energy to say “Yes, Mommy,” and to obey. He managed to hold his arms stiffly down at his sides. All he could think about was how much his bottom hurt, how miserable he was, and how much he hated Mrs. Warren. He was oblivious to Mrs. Warren as she now spread out the changing pad on the floor and laid his diaper out on top of it. She gently guided him down to it, positioned his abused bottom over the back of the diaper and had him lie down. He allowed her to lift his legs, rub some lotion on his hot skin, and sprinkle him with a generous amount of powder before lowering his legs, pulling the diaper through, and taping him up tightly. He was beginning to stop crying as she stood him up. He had no energy to resist her as she did something intended to embarrass him even further once they left this room: she tucked his shirt deep inside his diaper, and pulled the diaper’s waist up as high as it would go. When she pulled his still-wet pants back up and buckled them, about two inches of diaper were clearly visible above his jeans. Doug didn’t even notice. Mrs. Warren folded up her changing pad and put it away, stowed the hairbrush, then brushed off her strong hands. That had been exhilarating and, as always, excellent exercise. But she wasn’t done with Doug today. Doug was close to getting his sniffles under control as Mrs. Warren unlocked and opened the door. Several employees who had apparently been hovering just outside, entertained by the sound of Doug’s spanking, dispersed rapidly. Doug stepped out into the service hallway and was acutely aware of how his diaper insulated his still-hot bottom, so that the heat amplified the continued pain he felt. His legs, on the other hand, were ice-cold and wet from his soaked jeans. He felt completely miserable. But he had another embarrassing ordeal to withstand, if he didn’t want another spanking, so Doug dutifully took the mop and bucket he saw waiting in the hall, and slowly wheeled them toward Aisle #3, where a small “SLIPPERY WHEN WET” sign had been placed near the puddle he’d made not half an hour ago. People he passed whispered and stared, but Doug almost didn’t care now. He tried to shut out the outside world, though his inside world wasn’t any more comforting. Mrs. Warren followed at a short distance, keeping a watchful eye on her charge, but he was behaving well. It was then that she knew that while he obviously had an enjoyable little rebellious streak in him, he also would probably end up being one of her best clients. He had a little fight in him, to make it fun, but he also had some common sense, too, and knew when to quit. Doug mopped quietly. The first time he looked down, he caught sight of the diaper protruding so blatantly from his pants, and it didn’t take much to realize that it had been done on purpose. He glanced at Mrs. Warren, who had observed his discovery, and she smiled at him slightly. He took a deep breath and kept mopping. There was simply nothing he could do about it. His bottom hurt more than enough already. When he’d finished and returned the mop and bucket to the back hallway, Mrs. Warren guided him back to the manager’s office. On the way she told him what she wanted him to say. “Ma’am,” Doug started politely, when the manager came over with an amused smile on her face, “I just wanted to apologize for wetting myself here in your store, and for making that puddle over there. I, um, cleaned it all up. I, um, just wanted to say I’m sorry.” “That’s good,” the manager observed. “I heard quite a racket back there in that bathroom where you two were. Do you think you learned a lesson?” Doug coughed with embarrassment, and looked toward Mrs.Warren, who returned his glance with a questioning look. “Uh, yes, ma’am,” he said, finding it hard to meet her eyes. “I, um, promise it will never happen again.” He was sure of this. “And how can I be sure of that?” the manager inquired. “Well,” said Doug, “I’m wearing a, um, well, a…diaper now.” “Oh, yes, I see,” she replied, pretending to notice for the first time. “Not quite ready for big boy pants, are we?” she said, as if to a three-year-old. This was so degrading, being treated like this. But he had no choice but to humor these women. But he still couldn’t look her in the eye, mumbling, “Uh, no, ma’am, I guess not.” He noticed Mrs. Warren giving him a meaningful glance. “Oh, and I wanted to ask you if I might be allowed to finish grocery shopping now,” he remembered to ask. “I guess that would be alright,” the manager said, looking to Mrs. Warren, who was nodding at her, for her answer, the way strangers will often do with a child and his parent. “As long as your Mommy thinks you’ve learned a lesson, and are wearing a diaper like a good little boy.” “Yes, ma’am,” Doug murmured, his bottom and face burning from the spanking and the embarrassment. “And may I please have permission to shop here in the future?” “Hmmm,” the manager said thoughtfully. “Yes, you may, if you come wearing a diaper which is at all times visible, such as you’re wearing now, so that my employees and I can tell the big boys from the little ones like you.” She seemed to decide something. “Also, I’d like for you to check in here when you first get here so that I can tell an employee to keep an eye on you. Any puddles, misbehavior, or even so much as a wet spot on your jeans will be dealt with very harshly, young man. My children will tell you that I can warm a fanny with the best of them.” She smiled warmly at Mrs. Warren, who smiled back appreciatively. “And one more thing. I want you to bring a spare diaper with you, in case there is a leakage problem. I can find one of my staff to change you, or I can certainly do it myself. Okay?” Doug nodded. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” “That’s a good boy,” the manager said, and winked at Mrs. Warren, who was deeply impressed. She’d actually never been to this store or met this woman before, but this stranger seemed to have a natural understanding for what was going on. Mrs. Warren began to think more of her boys would shop here in the future. What a pleasant surprise. Doug resumed shopping grimly. The rest of the trip was excruciating, and dreadfully slow, so he had time to consider what had just happened. He’d just set himself up for weekly humiliation and public embarrassment, and had thanked the lady for it. The manager’s attitude had shocked and disappointed Doug as much as it had pleased and surprised Mrs. Warren, and he was now questioning whether everyone would approve of how he was being treated if they knew about his situation. It was weird that one of these people didn’t object to his being spanked and diapered. (Doug had no way of knowing that he’d simply had the misfortune of encountering another relatively unusual woman; his ignorance made him begin to wonder whether there was more of this kind of thing going on than he had previously been aware of. Any uncertainty about this on Doug’s part simply made Mrs. Warren’s job easier, so she would have been pleased.) Well, he thought, thank goodness for the fact that this store is out of the way. He’d never seen any of his friends shopping here, and that was the only aspect of today’s experience he was happy about. One thing was for sure, he knew. He wasn’t soon going to try to disobey Mrs. Warren again. His bottom throbbed with the heat and pain from his spanking, and the various glances of curiosity and disgust from the other shoppers continued to drive home how misguided this attempt at rebellion had been. Well, he was reformed now, out of necessity more than desire, and he was going to be a good little boy for as long as he could help it, no matter how embarrassing it would be. Embarrassment was better than embarrassment and pain. He would do anything to avoid living through another day like today. Which was exactly what Mrs. Warren wanted, of course. And she had been doing this long enough to recognize the determined look that now shone in Doug’s eye. She smiled. This had been a successful outing today, and one that would probably carry her new client through several good weeks of what she considered diaper-training for the future. The next thing she’d probably have to deal with from Doug were his hormones. She smiled. Mrs. Warren could handle that, too. She loved her job. Chapter 8 Doug packed his diaper bag Sunday night for his return to work without objection. His bottom and ego still hurt from the day’s events, and he was in no mood to put up a fuss. Still, he was more than a little uneasy about the following day, when he would head to work while wearing his diaper and carrying his pink diaper bag. He was worried about people at the lab finding out, since the job and the graduate program to which he expected it to lead seemed to be all he was living for now that the rest of his normal life had been taken away. So while he obediently placed three fresh diapers, powder, baby wipes, and lotion into his bag, his mind was racing for ways to make himself less conspicuous. Some ideas were obvious. He’d decided that, starting tomorrow, he’d go in earlier and leave later. That way he could get to and from his lab unseen and wouldn’t have to answer questions about his bulging, waddling, rustling, or his babyish bag. Appearing to work harder wouldn’t hurt his admission prospects, either. In some ways he was very lucky to have the job he had: working alone, being able to wear what he wanted and essentially to decide what hours he’d work. He had some lab meetings to attend each week, but not many. These features were excellent, since he now wanted to avoid other people as much as possible and needed to wear something practical. He had bulky pants and a long sweatshirt that might work. Good thing winter’s coming, he thought. It would be way harder to wear the kind of bulky clothing that was necessary if it were hot. It was the prospect of diaper changes that really made him anxious. His floor in the lab building had one unisex bathroom in one of the more public areas. It wasn’t uncommon to see lots of people on his way there or back, or for there to be a line. He couldn’t carry the diaper bag, or, even worse, a diaper and some wipes, into the bathroom! It hadn’t been until after Mrs. Warren left Sunday night that Doug struck on the idea of plastic grocery bags in which to carry clean diaper down and dirty diapers back. If it was around lunchtime when he went, he could even say he was just stopping off on the way to lunch. He felt much better after he pre-bagged his diaper changes for tomorrow. With any luck, he might be able to get away with this without anyone finding out. Monday morning Doug woke up, dry as usual, and tried to get ready as normally would any other morning, except that this morning he had to wet himself intentionally before his shower, and rediaper himself afterward. He left his apartment early, and indeed got to his lab early as well, before anyone else had arrived. Relieved, he tucked his telltale bag safely into an unused lab cupboard and got to work. He was very conscious of how often he wet himself, as leaks might be horribly embarrassing, and so he checked his diaper several times before deciding at 10:30am that he’d better try to change himself. So he put his clandestine operation into action and was thrilled when it seemed to go off without a hitch. No one really seemed to notice. From there the rest of the day was easier. He had to change himself once more, in mid-afternoon, and he waited until the halls were relatively deserted before waddling home. All in all, the day had been much simpler than he could have hoped for. And the next several days went well also, in that he seemed to manage to keep his forced infantilization a secret from his coworkers. Mrs. Warren dropped by every day or so “to say hi.” Wednesday night she commented that she’d been told that Doug was being a good boy at work, and that she was glad to hear it. Doug’s heart stopped. Mrs. Warren had an informant at work! Someone in his last bastion of normality knew about him. He didn’t say anything to Mrs. Warren (sitting down was only now becoming painless), but his mind once again raced, as he tried to pinpoint who his informant could possibly be. He should have known he’d be spied upon. But now he worried that the informance might tell others. Everyone might already know by now! But he couldn’t ask, because that would give it away. He was forced to watch everyone on Thursday, looking for clues that they might be on to him. But if anyone knew, they were quiet about it. No one appeared to watch him or react any differently than in the past. Thursday night, as he was sneaking home after he’d thought everyone had left, he turned a corner and ran right into his lab director, Dr. Stillman, a tall, strikingly beautiful woman in her late thirties, with long brown hair and deep brown eyes. She was also, not coincidentally, the admissions director for the doctoral program Doug hoped to enter next fall. “Ah…Doug, isn’t it?” she asked crisply as she sized him up in front of her. Doug tried to hide his bag behind his legs. “Keeping late hours, are we? Well, that can’t hurt. It’s nice to see someone working so hard for a change.” At this, she sort of chuckled to herself, and kept walking. Doug stood in the hall after she’d left and tried to figure out what she’d meant by that. It had seemed like a compliment, and yet she’d laughed. She always intimidated Doug, to some degree because he found her extremely attractive. Now, though, in his paranoid mood, he found himself wondering if his boss might actually be the informant: “working hard for a change,” she’d said. Maybe this had meant something else from what he’d thought. (This would worry Doug for a long time, and perhaps never be satisfactorily settled for him, since she never made any other similar comments and he knew he couldn’t exactly ask her directly.) Other than this incident, the rest of the week was uneventful, and Doug finished his second week of diaperhood smoothly. He was as obedient as he could be, and tried to wet and soil his diaper conscientiously. He settled into a predictable pattern of changing himself in the late morning and midafternoon, and he found that as long as he remembered to do that, he didn’t need to think about when exactly he wet himself. That seemed convenient to Doug, though he would discover later that it was yet another piece in the puzzle of his undoing. On Sunday Doug reluctantly and self-consciously waddled into the grocery story, scene of last week’s humiliation, spare diaper in hand. The diaper he wore was necessarily pulled up outside his shirt for the world to see. He wished desperately that he didn’t have to do this, but he knew he did. He tried to stare straight ahead and to ignore the stares of shoppers, and fervently hoped that no one he knew saw him like this. He walked over to the manager’s office and knocked on the door. “Well, look who’s back,” the manager observed when she saw Doug. “And you remembered how I want you to dress as well; that’s a good start. What’s your name, young man?” “Doug,” he replied, not wanting to get any more detailed than that. Luckily, it seemed as though that’s all she wanted. “Well, I’m Mrs. Johnson, Doug,” she said. “As you recall, I told you I’d have one of my employees look after you while you’re here. Let’s see who’s available.” She yelled over to the pretty young cashier who had laughed at Doug the previous week. “Emily, have you had your break?” The young girl nodded. “Just came off it. Sandy has my register.” Emily walked over, obviously staring at Doug’s visible diaper as she approached. “Good,” Mrs. Johnson said. “This is Doug. Perhaps you remember him from last Sunday: he wet his pants in Aisle 3.” “Of course I remember,” she said, giggling. Doug blushed. It had to be this girl. “Well, this week he’s more suitably dressed, as you can see. But I’d still like for you to babysit him while he shops. Follow him and supervise his behavior. If there is any misbehavior at all, you are to tell me immediately, and you or I will take care of it.” “What do you mean?” Emily asked Mrs. Johnson, looking at Doug with amusement. “I mean that if he needs it, one of us will give him a spanking back in the stockroom. He got one last week, and it seemed to work well.” Doug’s head pounded with embarrassment. Doug saw that Emily was having trouble controlling her laughter. Mrs. Johnson, however, ignored her. “Now, Doug, can you tell when you’ve wet or messed in your diaper?” she asked. Doug frowned. Of course he could, but why did she have to bring that up now, other than to embarrass him? But he had to answer. “Uh, yes, ma’am,” he answered with a very shy glance toward Emily. “Good. I expect you to tell Emily if it happens so she can change you. Emily, you can use the stockroom for that as well; just ask me for the key. And check his diaper several times each visit while he shops, just to make sure: we don’t want a scene like last week because of overflow. If he’s wet or dirty and didn’t tell you first, bring him back here. He’ll need a spanking for that, too, if we think it was intentional.” She turned away from them. “That’s all. You two come back here when you’re done shopping. Be good,” she added, presumably for Doug’s benefit. They turned away and headed toward the rows of empty carts. “Did you really get a spanking last week?” Emily asked him immediately. Doug hung his head. “Yes,” he said quietly, hoping she would drop the subject. He picked a cart and they headed for the produce section. “How come?” Doug stopped and looked at her. She was half smiling, obviously amused at the idea of his being spanked like a bad little boy. Her blue eyes sparkled, and Doug found himself staring into them for a moment, briefly bewitched by her young beauty. Then he shook himself. She was probably eighteen or nineteen at the most, several years younger than he. He thought that was not appropriate. And besides that, she knew he was wearing a diaper. Even if she were of a proper age for him, he wouldn’t have stood a chance with that humiliation. “I’d rather not talk about it,” he said, finally, and turned to look through a bin of apples. But she was insistent. “No, really. Why?” When Doug didn’t speak, she said, “You wouldn’t want me to give my manager a bad report, would you?” Doug turned back to her, fear suddenly in his eyes. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?” “Maybe, maybe not,” she said coyly, her eyes twinkling. “I’m the babysitter. You’d better behave.” Just what he needed, Doug thought. A teenager on a power trip. “Look,” he said. “It’s really embarrassing.” Perhaps he could play on her sympathy… And there was silence for a moment. So she does have a heart, Doug thought. Thank goodness. But then, “Was it because you wet your pants?” She asked it simply, apparently not to tease him, and without malice. She just didn’t seem to recognize his discomfort. She only seemed very curious and slightly amused. The question was, why was she so curious? She ought to be grossed out. Could she actually be turned on by this? He’d always dreamed of meeting a female who could share and participate in his diaper-wearing. “`Cause my little brother, Joey, got spanked every time he wet his pants,” she went on. “Oh, really?” Doug replied with disappointment, now irritated that he should be thought of in the same vein as her stupid little pants-wetting brother. Well, now he knew how she thought of him. He should have known; that would teach him to get his hopes up. He moved on, collecting his groceries. “Yeah, he’s twelve now, and it doesn’t happen anymore,” Emily told im. “But he used to do it a lot, and Mom would spank him for it. Probably couldn’t help it, I guess.” She followed him in silence for a couple of steps. “So do you still wet your pants a lot?” she asked. “No,” Doug answered with more annoyance. As pretty as she was, she was turning out to be a pest. If she wasn’t interested in him, then she was just being cruel, he decided. “But you did last week, and that’s why your mom spanked you, right?” Once more Doug stopped to glare at her. “Look, she’s not my mom, okay? Please just drop it.” “She’s not?” Emily asked, wrinkling her brow. “Who is she then?” Oh, crap, he thought. I can’t go there. We can’t get into this. He shook his head. “It’s really complicated.” They were now passing the back corner of the store and the hallway with the bathroom where Doug had been soundly spanked the week before. This distracted Emily from her interrogation, and she remembered one of her duties. “We should check your diaper!” she chirped happily, tugging at Doug’s sleeve. Reluctantly he left his half-full cart and followed her into the hallway, where they couldn’t be seen by other shoppers. “Okay, pull down your pants,” Emily said, obviously trying to sound mature. However, her enthusiasm and amusement shone through her facade of professionalism. “Look, you really don’t need to do this. I know for a fact that it’s dry,” Doug offered hopefully. She put her hands on her hips indignantly. “I’m the babysitter, not you. You’re just the baby. And I want you to pull down your pants so I can see your diaper.” Doug still hesitated. She was so young to be ordering him around. “Do it now,” she said sharply. Doug knew that in this situation, as in many others, he didn’t have much choice. He didn’t know whether or not she’d really make good on the threat to spank him, but he didn’t want to find out. So he unbuckled and unzipped his jeans and self-consciously lowered them to the floor. “Awwwww…that’s a good boy,” Emily said, in a babyish tone. She laughed at her own efforts at humor. Doug blushed again, not finding it quite as funny as she apparently did. Emily leaned over and inspected the little indicator stripe, which indeed verified Doug’s assertion of dryness. Despite his embarrassment, Doug felt an erection start to build inside his diaper. It had been a difficult 2 weeks since he had come, and it didn’t take much to get him hard. For the first time Doug was thankful for the extreme thickness of his diaper, which probably prevented her from noticing. Suddenly she surprised him by reaching out and grabbing the rear of his diaper, squeezing and massaging it gently. She then did the same to the front. Doug was so shocked he didn’t know what to do. What if she felt his erection? “Just making sure,” she explained to him as she straightened up again. But she said it with a smile that told Doug for the first time that maybe she was actually interested as much in what was inside his diaper as in its state of wetness. So what was she “making sure” of? Whether he was wet, or whether he was hard? he wondered. Or had he just imagined that little supposed flirtation? To Doug’s frustration, since he wanted some clarity, Emily didn’t let on one way or another. “Okay, that’s good. You can pull 'em up. We’ll check again later.” She’s apparently a very professional tease, he thought, reassessing his baby-sitter. If she really liked him and had just made a little move on him, she wasn’t letting on to it now. But why would she tease him? he argued to himself as they returned to shopping. Could she possibly know about his ICP’s prohibition of sex, and was she therefore being purposefully cruel? No, he thought, that’s impossible. His heart quickened. I think she really likes me, he thought excitedly. And she’s actually turned on by my diapers! Oh my God, he thought, unable to comprehend the ramifications of actually having found someone who was turned on by infantilism in general, and his infantilism in specific. He’d dreamed his whole life… His musing was cut short as Emily was back on the attack. “So if you don’t wet a lot, then why do you have to wear diapers?” Doug didn’t answer. He couldn’t think of anything other than the truth that would be believable. Emily didn’t seem to mind his silence. She kept on jabbering. “My brother never had to wear diapers for wetting his pants. Well, I mean, after he was about four. He kept right on wetting his pants and his bed, and Mom started spanking him for it. She said he was old enough to know better. And Joey would cry, but then he’d keep on wetting. Maybe he should have been put back in diapers, like you…” She trailed off, apparently lost in thought. And then: “Did it hurt?” Doug was lost. He had been picking out some laundry detergent. “Did what hurt?” “Your spanking. Did it hurt?” “Yes,” Doug admitted quietly. His inhibitions had dropped slightly since he’d determined that she really did like him. In a relationship as potentially important as this one might be, he could maybe afford to open up a little. “I bet it did,” Emily said enthusiastically. “Did you cry?” Whoops. Too far, a little voice in Doug’s head told him. He thought he could possibly talk about some of this, was dying to get some of it off his chest, and was thrilled someone like Emily existed. But he was deeply embarrassed about some aspects of it, and this was one of them. “Emily, I’m kind of upset about the whole thing, okay? Can we please not talk about this stuff anymore?” Emily nodded, and was silent as they made their way toward the dairy products. Then she couldn’t resist asking just one more question. “Do you have a girlfriend?” Doug stopped and stared at her. So much for subtlety, maturity, and professionalism. “No,” he said simply. “Oh,” she replied. “I’m in college. Are you in college?” “Not any more,” he told her. Whew, he thought. At least she isn’t a minor. He finished shopping. When Doug was just about ready to check out, Emily said, “Time for another check.” He immediately tensed up. Here we go again, he thought. I was so close to getting out of here. They walked back to the rear hallway, Doug’s anxiety and erection simultaneously rising. What would happen this time? Would it…COULD it…lead to anything? He found himself both hoping that something sexual would happen and scared that it might. He’d always dreamed of involving his diapers in a sexual relationship, and this girl was so beautiful! It was better than he could have hoped for! But then there was the omniscient, omnipotent Mrs. Warren, who had expressly prohibited any sexual activity. Emily, however, was the boss here! If anything happened, it wasn’t his fault, right? He was torn and confused as she again asked him to pull down his pants. Now he was also scared of being discovered: his erection felt huge. He wondered if even his thick diaper could insulate it from her touch. Maybe she wouldn’t notice. Doug held his breath tensely as Emily, smiling, reached out and caressed his diaper, first in the back, and then, more extensively, in the front. She got a funny look on her face, as if she was considering something. Doug thought he heard her laugh quietly. He was about to say something, anything, to ease the tension, when she abruptly stopped, stood, and pronounced him dry. Doug let out his breath. Emily had him pull up his pants, and they went back up front, where Doug paid for his groceries. Then they stopped by Mrs. Johnson’s office. “And were you a good boy today, Doug?” she asked him, though she clearly meant the question for Emily. Doug was pointedly ignored, and he felt like he was three years old, which he noted was becoming a common occurrence. Emily nodded. “Yes, ma’am. He did as he was told. I checked him twice, and he was dry and clean both times.” “Good for him. Okay, Doug, we’ll see you back next week. Same deal. Thanks, Emily, you can get back to your register,” she added before turning away. “No problem. No problem at all. G’bye, Doug,” Emily said. She flashed him a meaningful smile. “I’ll see you next week.” At this, she laughed hysterically and walked away. “G’bye, Emily,” Doug said to her back, and sighed as she walked away. She definitely turned him on, even if she was criminally nosy. The boys at her school must drool over her, he thought. He took his groceries to his car, and spent the rest of the day trying to decide how her obvious fondling of him had been meant. Her parting comment, too, was an obvious reference to the activities she seemed to be planning for next week. He was already worried about it, but couldn’t help[ but be excited as well. He had a lot to think about this week. Who knew what his next shopping trip would bring? Chapter 9 Week three brought more of the same to Doug, who had definitely given up trying to fight his “ICP” for the time being. It was annoying as hell to deal with the diapers, but his life hadn’t ended yet, either. No one seemed to know yet, outside of Mrs. Warren, the grocery story women, and the mystery informant at work. His role was pretty easy, actually: just use his diapers mindlessly and change them several times a day. And it wasn’t that inconvenient, except for the messy diapers. Otherwise, it was nice not to have to go all the way to the toilet to relieve himself. Now, if he felt ever the slightest twinge in his bladder, he just relaxed a little, and it went away. He was determined to enjoy the few perks to this setup. He had his BM’s pretty well regulated to the evenings when he was in the privacy of his apartment, and though he hated having to sit in them first, he usually showered immediately after that, so all in all cleanup wasn’t that difficult either. But he disliked the bulk of his diapers, and having to walk funny (though he noticed this less and less). One thing he was definitely more aware of was always having to think about his diapers in public. Were they visible? Could people tell? When other people were around he always had to think about whether he could move safely without being heard. He learned to carry his keys around and jingle them loudly if it was quiet enough that someone might hear his plastic crinkling. He was paranoid, but so far he still didn’t have any evidence that people suspected. The shaving was becoming old hat as well. At first it had been very itchy; now it was better. He shaved his groin daily and his bottom every other day, since it was more difficult. While it was humiliating to “have” to do it, he ended up being happy he’d done it every time he had a messy diaper. He did laundry once a week, and only after Mrs. Warren had looked through his clothes and sheets. He received several more huge packages of disposable diapers each week, and slowly worked his way through them, turning in smelly trash bags full of old ones. He had started paying for his diapers after the first week, which sort of made him mad. Sure, it was a reasonable price for what he got, but he didn’t want what he got. Still, everything that third week went smoothly, and everything seemed to be getting easier and slightly more tolerable. Except. Except it had now been three weeks since he’d had an orgasm. An all-time record since his early teens. As the days had dragged on, he’d thought about it more and more, until by now almost every waking moment (and many of his dreams, too) were spent thinking about sex. In the past, dreams and fantasies had focused on two different themes: “normal” heterosexual intercourse and his secret diaper fantasies, which often involved, ironically, being forced into diapers by an older woman. Now, presumably because of his present situation, these two separate topics seemed hopelessly muddled in his mind. If he had regular sex with a woman, she first had to take his diapers off. He never “fantasized” about being forced into anything anymore, but Mrs. Warren inexplicably showed up in several of his sex dreams. He tried to focus all of this energy productively, which for Doug meant trying to figure out a way to sneak in some masturbation, unknown to Mrs. Warren. He would have thought about actual sex with somebody, but the question was, with whom? He didn’t really like the idea of anonymous sex, and who would want to get into a relationship with somebody still in diapers? Emily inevitably kept creeping into his mind, but he shook the thought away. He didn’t want to think about what kind of punishment that might lead to. Masturbation was simply much safer and easier logistically. Even so, he was extremely paranoid that Mrs. Warren would find out somehow (and with good reason!), so his scheme had to be brilliant. He knew she had an informant at work, so he couldn’t just do it in the bathroom there, where he’d either have to flush the evidence (suspicious to an informed observer, because why would a diapered boy need to flush?) or throw it away somewhere, and Doug felt sure that Mrs. Warren would find any evidence he left. Doug’s first instinct, of course, was to whack off into his diaper, since he always found that most satisfying. But since his diapers were inspected specifically for this, Doug had to force himself to forego this pleasure. There was that chemical thing in the drains, and laundry was, of course, checked beforehand, which ruled out a lot of options at home. He decided he had to think of some way to smuggle home some paper products, hide them, use them, and then think of a foolproof disposal method. It was during this third week that he finally figured it out. He thought it through, over and over, and carefully considered every angle, but couldn’t find a flaw. On Friday, then, after his afternoon change at work, Doug wadded up two small balls of toilet paper and stuffed them in the toes of his shoes, which made them uncomfortable, but not too bad. At least they still fit. It was perfect! No one, not even Mrs. Warren, would think of looking there, and if she did, he could simply say that the paper was there for comfort purposes, because his shoes were too big. It was nearly plausible as an emergency plan, but he was sure he would not need to use it. After he wore home the toilet paper, he found the other tools necessary for his plan: a half-full cereal box, and an empty Coke can. He would store the toilet paper in the bottom of the cereal box until he needed it, then stuff it inside the empty Coke can for disposal. It was brilliant. Now he was finally ready. And it was wonderful. It (not surprisingly) didn’t take long, and he had a lot of difficulty keeping himself quiet (just in case). Three weeks of near-constant excitement were released in a cataclysmic but all-too-brief orgasm, the evidence of which he was careful to contain entirely within the toilet paper and cram into the soda can. He peered inside and was thrilled when he couldn’t see the contents of the can at all. It couldn’t have been more perfect. He put the can in the trash amid leftover spaghetti with sauce, just to make examination of the can that much less convenient. And that night he slept very well indeed. The weekend went well, too. Sunday, when he returned with trepidation to the grocery store, he was both relieved and disappointed to learn that Emily was home, apparently sick, so she couldn’t babysit him today. Instead, Doug was followed around by a homely, quiet girl who gave him weird looks but didn’t bother him at all. Twice, she’d gone as far as to ask him if he needed to be changed, but when he’d answered no both times, she’d said okay and dropped the subject. The next week came and went without so much as a peep from Mrs. Warren, even after the trash was hauled away. Doug was overjoyed. He’d done it! He’d outsmarted her, and had accomplished this task in the most important of situations. This, of course, meant that he could do it again, and again, probably, though he didn’t want to push his luck. Every week or two would have to be enough, though he wanted far more. But the consequences of being found out were too dire. Not only would he get another fearsome spanking, he thought, but he’d lose this, one of maybe two bright spots in his current life. He desperately needed this system for his release, so he had to be very careful. And with any luck, it was now finally conceivable to him that he could actually complete this hellish six months of babyhood. It was now Friday of the fourth week, and Doug had thus completed a month of his ICP. Not much was happening around the lab, so Doug took the opportunity to walk home for a leisurely lunch in the privacy of his apartment, where a diaper change was less of a hassle. A month! he thought as he walked home. It seemed impossible that he’d spent a whole month as a baby, but it was true. He hadn’t been out of a diaper for more than fifteen minutes at all, and hadn’t used a toilet the whole time. He wasn’t enjoying it, certainly, but he was getting used to it a little. He was definitely still enjoying the convenience diapers offered. He hardly thought about when he peed these days: as much trouble as cleanup was, he loved not worrying about holding it in until he got to a bathroom. He didn’t think that carefully about it, because it didn’t seem important to him, but if he had, he would have noticed that he still had to consciously relax his bladder and bowels to empty them. But he was doing it far more often and instinctively. There were lots of things he still didn’t like, however. He hated limiting himself to one orgasm a week, but he wanted to be very conservative about that, especially at first. He had a good system, but he knew that Mrs. Warren was smart, and if he blew it he might never figure out another feasible system. It was too precious. Most of all, however, he hated subjugating himself to Mrs. Warren, acting like a two-year-old around her. He was still very self-conscious about having to call her “Mommy,” and it galled him to have to walk on eggshells around to show her how obedient he was. The only thing that kept him doing it was the knowledge that if he didn’t, he’d get something which pleased him even less: a spanking. And so, even though he was constantly humiliated by the fact that he really was literally trying to be a good little boy to avoid a spanking from his Mommy, it was worth it to him to do so. Doug continued to be frustrated by not figuring a way out of this mess. It was beginning to look more and more like he’d have to ride the thing out for the full duration of the six months. This failure was in itself embarrassing , but he was beginning to see the wisdom in not fighting Mrs. Warren. These last few weeks had been degrading, of course, but nothing like his experience with the wet bet that day. And without a spanking since then, the time had passed more quickly, too. If he could just ride this out for another five months and stay on Mrs. Warren’s good side, which meant being a good boy, he could count on resuming his normal life in April without so much as a single spanking before that. This plan, because of its relative ease and safety, was becoming more and more attractive to him. With his secret masturbation scheme in place, he could almost imagine making it that long. His musings ended as he arrived home and started to make his lunch. His diaper was soaked (he’d made it through the morning without a change) but he was hungry, so he put off changing himself until after lunch. He had just finished making a sandwich when he was surprised by the sound of a key in the lock of his front door. Mrs. Warren! he thought. Was he in trouble? She didn’t ordinarily visit him during work days, even when he was home for lunch. “Doug?” he heard her call from the hall. “Yes, Mommy?” he answered, gritting his teeth slightly at the humiliation of having to call her that. “We need to talk,” Mrs. Warren told him as she entered his living room, with him following closely behind. “I called your machine,” Doug said defensively, hoping to head off any problems. “I told you I was coming home for lunch.” “Oh, yes, that was a good boy,” Mrs. Warren said, sitting down and putting her keys in her big black purse, which seemed to be more full than usual. “That’s how I knew to find you here. No, that’s not what this is about.” “Was I bad?” Doug asked worriedly. After he’d just considered how lucky he was for not having been spanked recently, this seemed a big disappointment. Could she know about his secret? But surely she’d appear much angrier if she knew… “Well, no, I don’t think so,” she replied, “unless you purposefully turned in too few messy diapers last week.” “No, I…I…” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to; are you sure?” His mind raced. What was the punishment for that? “Yes, I’m sure,” she said sharply. “And don’t question me again. My inspectors told me about it this morning after analyzing your diapers from last week. You only turned in seven messy diapers when you were supposed to turn in nine.” “Oh,” Doug said. He’d thought he’d done okay last week. The big question was: did he get a spanking for that? “I…don’t know what happened. I’m really sorry,” he started. “Well, I’m sure it wasn’t intentional. Your total number of diapers was fine, so we know you were good about using your diapers. So you don’t need a spanking,” she reassured him. “But I am worried that you seem to be slightly constipated. Do you know why I’d care about that?” “No, Mommy,” Doug said, though he was thinking, because you’re intrusive and perverted. “Well, constipation is actually a cause of a special kind of incontinence called overflow incontinence.' So we always have to make sure our clients stay very regular. That's why we have the messy diaper quota, you know." "Oh," he said to be polite. He wasn't constipated, and he wasn't really interested. Seven dirty diapers was pretty regular, for goodness sake. "And that's why any time you turn in too few messy diapers, as you did, we want to make sure it doesn't become a problem." Whatever, Doug thought. What the hell was the point of this? He wasn't constipated, though he *was* very hungry by now. He needed to move her along so he could eat and get back to lunch. "Okay, well, I'll try to pay more attention this week," he said, hoping that that was what she was looking for. It wasn't. "Not so fast, little guy," Mrs. Warren said, smiling. "You obviously don't remember your rule list. We need to spend the next day or so making sure you aren't at all, shall we say, plugged up.’” Doug didn’t like the sound of that. “I call it Bowel Encouragement. Does that ring any bells?” Doug shook his head, beginning to dread the answer. He hoped it wasn’t diaper juice. “Well, we just help you along a little by putting something in your bottom every so often for a day. It’s guaranteed to work.” Well, out of everything that could be happening, that didn’t sound too bad. Still, he wasn’t sure he could trust Mrs. Warren. “Does it hurt?” “No, not really,” she replied. “Let’s go get you started. Have you had a bowel movement today?” “No, Mommy,” Doug answered. He had himself on a nice regular evening schedule for BMs during the week. Mrs. Warren smiled with anticipation. “That’s fine. Let’s go upstairs and get you changed into a dry diaper. I see that one’s about soaked.” Doug looked down, but saw no signs of leaking through his pants. He was amazed at how Mrs. Warren could tell these things so accurately. I mean, I’m wearing pants, he thought. Is my diaper still that obvious? Can everyone tell? Or is she just that good? Mrs. Warren led him upstairs, aware of the impact her comment would make on Doug’s confidence in public and on his opinion of her. In truth, she simply had seen him arrive home and assumed he’d not yet changed himself. After a whole morning at work, she’d knew he had to be soaking. With considerable embarrassment, Doug lay back on his changing pad and allowed his pants to be pulled down and his diaper changed. Mrs. Warren didn’t do this for him often, and he was still self-conscious enough about it to make the experience painful. Mrs. Warren ran a baby wipe around his diaper area, cleaning his hairless groin carefully. “Very nice job shaving, Doug,” she said. “You’re turning into a very good little baby for Mommy. If we can get this constipation problem cleared up, we might consider taking you off of probation in a month or two.” Probation! He’d forgotten he was on probation. Recently it hadn’t been that bad being on probation, he reflected, as Mrs. Warren placed a clean diaper under his hips and powdered him heavily. But if he could be off of probation, then maybe he wouldn’t be spied on at work, or maybe his garbage wouldn’t be sorted, or his diapers counted. Then he could really get away with stuff! He tried to busy himself thinking how nice that would be while Mrs. Warren finished readying him. His attention was redirected back to Mrs. Warren as she dug into her purse and retrieved a latex glove and a small unlabeled container, from which she removed two cone-shaped pellets. After donning the glove, she had Doug spread and lift his legs, after which she unceremoniously stuck the two pellets up past Doug’s anus, well into his rectum. Doug was caught off-guard by this new experience, and he sucked in his breath sharply, unconsciously also clamping down his sphincter in self-defense. This effort had no effect on Mrs. Warren’s finger, which had accomplished its mission and retreated quickly. Mrs. Warren had his diaper taped up before Doug even knew what was happening. His bottom felt a little funny with those things inside, but it didn’t hurt or anything. Doug was relieved. That was it? She had him stand up as she walked over to his dresser and removed from the top drawer a pair of his white plastic panties. She handed them to Doug and told him to put them on, which he did. Then she went back to her purse and, to Doug’s surprise, removed from it another pair of plastic panties. These, too, Doug obediently pulled on, wondering idly what the point of two pairs of panties was. He noted as he adjusted the waist that there was something unusual about the elastic band, but before he had even realized that there was a small chain embedded in the waistband, Mrs. Warren had reached over and snapped closed a tiny padlock. Doug looked up in surprise. Why did he need to be locked in? But Mrs. Warren just smiled and said, “There you go. Now, here’s the plan. After a while you’re going to want to soil your diaper. I know you’re incontinent, but my advice to you is to try to hold it in for at least an hour and a half. “The reason for that is that I want these suppositories to stay inside you and melt completely. If you just poop them out now, they won’t help you at all. So the rule is, keep them in until they’re melted completely; you won’t be able to tell, of course, but an hour and a half should do the trick. I’m going to check your diaper when I change it in six hours, and if I find any part of the suppository unmelted, I’ll know you didn’t get the full effect. If that happens, we go directly to enemas, which you will like even less. So for your comfort, I’d like to try the suppositories first.” Actually it was less for his comfort than it was to draw out the entire affair. Enemas were over too quickly. “Every six hours, I’ll come here and unlock you, let you shower if you need to, and put you in a clean diaper with two more suppositories. “In twenty-four hours, after four messy diapers, I’ll assume you’re no longer constipated, and you can get back to your regular life, no pun intended. Okay? Walk me downstairs,” she said brightly as she picked up her purse. Wearing nothing but his diaper and plastic panties, Doug accompanied her to the front door. “I have to tell you, Doug, that as important as this treatment is, I know you’ll appreciate my help over the next day. I’d like to hear you thank me for that help every time I see you through tomorrow.” She looked at Doug expectantly. “Thank you, Mommy,” Doug said quickly, though he wasn’t sure he meant it. At his response, Mrs. Warren smiled a wonderfully evil smile, said good-bye, and left his apartment, telling him she’d be back at six. Doug looked down at his bulky diaper, now encased in two pairs of plastic panties. He started to get a foreboding that the next day wasn’t going to be very enjoyable for him. He’d actually never heard of suppositories, but he hoped they didn’t work very quickly, because he had to work this afternoon! There wasn’t much to do, just a couple of assays in the lab, but they were timed, and he had to be there all day, until nearly six o’clock, to supervise them. What if he had a bowel movement at work? He had purposely avoided this until now, knowing that the smell would be hideous and difficult to control. He stared at the two pairs of panties he wore and felt a chill up his spine as he realized that they must be there for a reason. He was probably being set up for a disaster. Damn that woman! he thought. She must know the effect this might have. She was doing it on purpose. And now he was locked in! He couldn’t escape this at all now: judging by the double protection she’d given him, he was destined to have an enormous accident in a potentially embarrassing place, and there was no way to avoid it! He wanted desperately to expel those little pellets right now, before they could do whatever they were going to do. But that would apparently lead to an enema, which didn’t sound nice at all, and if he knew Mrs. Warren at all, probably a spanking as well. No, he didn’t have a choice. As bad as this day might get, he knew he had to face it. A glance at his watch told him that this escapade had already nearly made him late for getting back to the lab. So he wolfed down his sandwich and tried to find pants to cover himself, now that he was bigger than ever before. He got his longest shirt and tried it on. It seemed to disguise his diapered state, but when he walked, it tightened against his diaper with every move and made things very obvious, he thought. But that was the best he could do. He had to hurry. He got to his lab without having anyone comment on or stare at him, so he started to feel better about the afternoon still ahead of him. Until he sat down for the first time and suddenly felt a cramp in his belly. Uh-oh, he thought. It’s already starting? He hadn’t expected it to be quite this fast-acting. It had only been about thirty minutes since Mrs. Warren had inserted the suppositories. He sat at his desk and tried to concentrate on other things, but soon Doug could think of nothing but his bowels. He heard a familiar gurgling in his stomach, the same gurgling he’d heard a month ago in his bathtub. This was when he knew that this situation would get much worse before it would get better. He was again filled with the desire to push those angry pellets out into his diaper where they couldn’t hurt him, but still he resisted the urge. He wanted to get through this without making it any worse. The pain and urgency in his bottom got much worse when he got up twenty minutes later to turn off a gel he’d been running. He literally had to clinch his teeth as he stood working so as not to soil himself. By this point the contents of his intestines were screaming to be let loose, but Doug was now determined to go the distance. If he gave in to his urges now, on top of all of the misery he’d already endured over the last hour, he’d also probably be spanked and subjected to an enema. A co-worker came in several minutes later, and Doug tried to stay still, so as not to move and thereby give away his diapered status. But his friend noticed his obvious discomfort, and suggested he take the afternoon off. Doug nodded grimly but didn’t say anything. He knew that wasn’t really an option. If he went home “sick,” he’d have to tell Mrs Warren, whose remedy might be worse yet. To his relief his co-worker simply shook his head and left. Doug was sweating by the time ninety minutes were up. But he was elated: he had done it, and now he could relieve himself of this torment. Yet it wasn’t much of a victory, he knew, as he was now simply given the unenviable opportunity to mess his diaper at work and then stay in it for four and a half uncomfortable hours. His discomfort would simply shift to outside his body, with the added risk of someone discovering him. He was trapped and silently cursed Mrs. Warren again. He was beginning to realize (in part) how diabolical she could be. A minute later, when the next round of cramps struck him, he realized it didn’t matter what he wanted or who was to blame. As he nearly cried out in agony, he instinctively squatted down and urgently pushed what he could of his intestinal contents out into his diaper. And his bowels responded explosively. Doug couldn’t help but enjoy the sensation, momentarily luxuriating in the absence of pain and pressure. When he could, he stood up again and looked around. The lab room was empty, thank goodness. That experience had gone unwitnessed. But now what? How to hide the very full state of his pants? Doug made the unfortunate decision to sit down to think, and immediately wished he hadn’t. He felt his diaper’s contents squish and spread over his bottom and between his legs. This was indeed a mess! Once seated, though, Doug realized that if he stayed that way and didn’t move, the smell wasn’t too bad. So he just spent the rest of his day parked in his dirty diaper at his desk, periodically relieving himself as he needed, feeling no compunction to hold it in now. Luckily, most people seemed to have taken off early on this Friday afternoon, and he had only two further visitors to his lonely lab, neither requiring him to stand. He couldn’t believe his luck, if you could call it that, but after the rest of the day he’d had, he was grateful for any break he could get. He listened for the familiar and distant sounds of keys jingling and doors shutting as the rest of the employees left for the day. When all was quiet, at about five-thirty, Doug gingerly stood, picked up his relatively-useless diaper bag, and waddled out of his lab. Doug’s fear of being smelled on the bus convinced him to walk home, an uncomfortable trip that contrasted vividly with his walk to work this noon. Now, with every step he felt the largely liquid load in his diaper shift and squish, and the discomfort only increased over the fifteen minutes it took to get home. The only good thing was that it was nearly six when he arrived home, and he only had to wait a couple minutes for Mrs. Warren to show up. He couldn’t wait. It had indeed been a miserable afternoon, from start to finish. With the exception of his continence test, he’d never been so uncomfortable in his life, he’d never had such a full diaper, and he’d never had to wear a messy diaper for so long. He was thoroughly disgusted, and ready as never before for a clean diaper. Mrs. Warren was, as always, punctual, and unlocked the outer plastic panties immediately. She watched with an amused smile as he pulled them off. They were obviously dirty on the inside, a sign that his “accident” had overloaded his thick diaper and the first pair of plastic pants. Doug’s gratitude for the necessary protection this afternoon was tempered by the confirmation that Mrs. Warren had known exactly what would happen to him today. She tried to play it off as concern for his incontinence, but Doug was beginning to suspect that Mrs. Warren was enjoying his unhappiness. This was such a frightening thought that he pushed it temporarily from his mind. He remained conscious only of a desire to end his ICP at the end of the six months. While thinking, he also pulled the other panties off and untaped his loaded diaper. “Whew. That is a dirty diaper,” she said, chuckling. Doug didn’t share her good humor, for he was also embarrassed for her to see him in such a humiliating state, but he reminded himself that it had happened before. And like before, his mind was primarily thinking of getting cleaned up. He waddled carefully into the bathroom and showered, leaving his filthy diaper with Mrs. Warren to examine. She did, noting the absence of any remaining, unmelted suppository. That was a little disappointing to her for several reasons. It deprived her of the opportunity to “enemize” Doug, which she knew she’d enjoy. More importantly, however, it meant that he was still continent enough of bowel to hold significant pressure in for a long time. But she remembered that all of her boys, most of whom were perfectly on schedule, usually did fine for the first round. It was rounds two and three, which for Doug would come overnight tonight, when their increasingly unconditioned sphincters gave way and allowed their contents out before ninety minutes were up. Exactly when the boys control failed during this difficult day of bowel torture gave her important information regarding their “progress,” and this was the major reason that she put her babies through this rectal hell. Doug took his time in the shower, enjoying the sensation of being out of a diaper for a few minutes. His relief at having escaped the day’s earlier torment was all-consuming. He savored the feeling, and couldn’t really think about anything else. And this preoccupation with the present, like every other part of Doug’s Incontinence Control Program, was planned by Mrs. Warren. She had discovered that the more her clients were focused on detailed rules and demands, the less capable they were of seeing the bigger picture. Doug rightfully thought today’s experience was horrendous, but because it took all of his concentration simply to make it through the day, he couldn’t spend any time considering the larger purpose for the ordeal, which was to assess his progress toward incontinence. He was trying only to make it through each day without a spanking; had he known the stakes, he might have shifted his efforts toward avoiding Mrs. Warren’s long-term plans for him. But Doug was so focused at the moment, in fact, that he was completely shocked and dismayed when he emerged from the shower and saw another two pellets waiting for him in Mrs. Warren’s gloved hand. He’d forgotten that he had more to endure. “No, please, Mommy,” he whined. His bowels already ached. “I’m all cleaned out, I promise.” “Shush,” Mrs. Warren said, pushing Doug back on his changing pad. “No more backtalk. You’ll be done soon enough. We have to make sure.” Doug compliantly spread and lifted his legs, allowing himself to be powdered, invaded by the glycerine, and re-diapered. Mrs. Warren had two clean plastic panties for Doug to put on. Doug watched helplessly as she locked the outer one. He knew better than to object. “Do I have to wait six whole hours?” he asked, pushing Mrs. Warren as far as he dared. “Absolutely.” She packed up her purse. “But it’s so long in a messy diaper,” he whimpered. Mrs. Warren glared at him. “That’s enough, young man. Look at it this way: this is making up for all the time you didn’t spend in dirty diapers this week. Remember, now, same rules, if you don’t want an enema. Try to wait ninety minutes, and I’ll see you around midnight. I’ll wake you up if I need to. Now, I suggest you have some dinner.” She left, and Doug waddled downstairs to eat. This time, though his bowels were nearly empty, they were also still very irritated from the previous suppositories, and they reacted quickly and strongly to this new onslaught of glycerine. The cramps and discomfort started within five to ten minutes, and Doug nearly cried several times. This was so pathetic. He wanted nothing more than to control his own bowels, and he felt degraded, angry, and miserable that he wasn’t allowed to make his own decision about such elementary functions. Mrs. Warren would have been happy that his greatest desire tonight was craving the ability to mess his diaper when he wanted? Life for Doug had certainly changed. But once again he bumped up against that wall he now always faced: Mrs. Warren and her absolute power over him. Though his ego still rejected his current impotent situation, he knew he had to force himself to submit to her difficult will. So he gritted his teeth and tried to keep his diaper clean. Meanwhile, while his bowels churned away, he unconsciously (and vainly) searched for a way to rationalize his participation in this absurd ICP. If he could gain something, anything, out of this humiliating return to diaperhood, his self-esteem wouldn’t suffer as much. Perhaps, he allowed himself to think, Mrs. Warren had actually been right, and he had always been a little incontinent. That would make all of this worthwhile, and this pain a little more tolerable. If this were so, then he was in the right hands, and he should just relax and trust in Mrs. Warren’s experience with such matters. But even as he allowed himself to think this way, he knew it wasn’t true. Mrs. Warren was mean to him. His defensive ego was playing tricks on him, and that’s probably just what Mrs. Warren wanted to happen. He shook his head. He hadn’t been incontinent. Probably. He didn’t think so. But it seemed like things were more confusing these days, which frightened him a little in a vague way. He was, as always, able to reassure himself that, at the very least, it would all end in five months, and he could return to normality. There was still a finite end to this nonsense, a light at the end of the tunnel. Doug’s second vigil of the day ended just over an hour in, when he decided that maybe an hour really was enough to melt those little pellets, and that waiting longer would hurt too much. Plus, he started to admit to himself, he was getting tired of holding it in: he wasn’t used to such a strain. For the last four weeks, he hadn’t tried to hold it in at all; now he had diarrhea and was expected to hold it in all day long? No one could do that, he thought to himself, practicing some dangerous denial. He regarded his task as super-human, and something of which anyone would tire. So once again Doug filled his diaper with loose, brown, sticky poop, and he sighed and grimaced as he sat down in it to watch TV until Mrs. Warren returned at midnight. He decided to try to ignore his messy state, and, in fact, he was beginning to grow used to it. His acclimation to such infantile discomfort showed the effect this month had had on him. Mrs. Warren would have again been pleased. And she was. At midnight Mrs. Warren arrived and found Doug asleep on the sofa in his filthy diaper, and she smiled. She gently woke him, guided him as he sleepily headed upstairs, and helped him remove his panties and diaper. This time Mrs. Warren found what she was looking for in Doug’s diaper. Two small suppository remnants told her Doug was unable to maintain good sphincter tone for ninety minutes tonight. She was thrilled, but decided to put off Doug’s enema until the morning, when they would both be more awake, for the benefit of her heightened enjoyment and his increased misery. She didn’t want either one of them to sleep through it! Doug showered more quickly this time, realizing that there was no virtue in putting off the inevitable. It would just make everything last longer. He dried himself, and, still naked, headed back to his bedroom, where another diaper was waiting for him, as well as Mrs. Warren, who had two more suppositories ready. He groaned as she inserted them with a gloved finger, and then he obediently allowed her to tape him up and lock him in still another plastic panty. Mrs. Warren saw his exhaustion and beaten spirit and couldn’t resist a smile. “Halfway there, Doug. Twelve more hours.” He grunted in return. He was tired physically and mentally, and her encouragement couldn’t help him. “Sleep well. I’ll be here a little late, at about seven o’clock, so that I don’t have to wake you too early,” she said, stroking his hair gently. “Thank Mommy, and tell her goodnight.” “Goodnight, Mommy,” Doug wearily replied. “And thanks,” he said unconvincingly. Mrs. Warren had scarcely driven away when Doug felt his bowel cramp for the first time. He groaned and rolled over in bed, still feeling very sleepy but knowing that he should stay awake for a while. When this round of cramps subsided several minutes later, however, he quickly drifted off to sleep. In its weakened and exhausted state, Doug’s rectal sphincter was no match for the pressure of its contents as they built over the next fifteen minutes. And Mrs. Warren would therefore have loved to have seen the moment, not half an hour after she placed the suppositories, when Doug soiled himself in his sleep for the first time in more than twenty years. He didn’t even stir when it happened, and was so used to wearing messy diapers (and so tired from the events of the previous day) that he never awoke, and thus was surprised when Mrs. Warren had to shake him awake at seven the next morning. “Was Douggie a good little baby last night?” Mrs. Warren asked sweetly when Doug’s eyes finally fluttered open. “Yes, Mommy,” Doug said reflexively, before he had time to think about whether it was true. He sat up and knew instantly that he was messy. But when had it happened? “Well, let’s see, shall we?” Mrs. Warren unlocked his panties and helped Doug pull them down his legs. Then they untaped his diaper, and Doug looked with curiosity down between his legs to his clean-shaven groin, and the diaper underneath. It contained a little bit of poop and two well-formed glycerine pellets which hadn’t even come close to melting. Doug caught his breath. Had he fallen asleep? He stuttered a few unintelligible syllables before Mrs. Warren cut him off. “That’s enough. Looks like maybe we weren’t quite as good a little boy as we thought. Head on in there and take your shower if you want, and we’ll talk about it afterward.” Doug complied, shaking his head in confusion. How did that happen? he wondered. And now what would she do? She has to be kidding about the enema, that’s absurd, I’ve never had one of those and I’m not going to start now, he thought, even as he knew that Mrs. Warren didn’t break her promises. But it’s so drastic. Maybe she won’t make me. But when he returned to his bedroom, of course, there was a large clean bag of soapy liquid hanging from one of his bedposts, with a long tube snaking its way down to his changing pad. Mrs. Warren was holding a container of K-Y jelly and looking at him expectantly. “Doug, I’d like for you to lay down here for a minute.” Doug was scared. “Mrs. Warren…I mean…Mommy, do we have to? I mean, I’ll just try again with those suppository things. Please?” “Oh, don’t worry. We will: we still have one more try with those. But first I’d just like for you to come over here and lie down. Just for a minute.” He knew now that he couldn’t escape it, so he slowly approached the bed. “That’s a good boy. On your hands and knees, like a puppy dog, with your bottom down here. Good boy. Now drop to your elbows and put your head down. And spread your legs a little. Perfect.” Doug closed his eyes. He felt a slippery finger touch his bottom, and then felt a small firm object invading him. He involuntarily tried to clamp down against it but couldn’t. He heard a click as Mrs. Warren released the valve on the tubing to allow two liters of sudsy warm water to fill his bowels. Doug then felt a warmth in his abdomen and an unusual, nondescript feeling as well. Doug was happy to learn that it didn’t really hurt at all. It lasted for what seemed quite a while. Finally, the plastic object was removed from his bottom. Not that bad, Doug thought. Mrs. Warren said, “Okay, now just hold still for a minute.” As Doug waited he felt gurgling throughout his abdomen and wondered what would happen next. Mrs. Warren was considering whether or not to use the tampon at this point. She decided first to test Doug’s sphincter further. There would be time for the tampon later, and this could be fun. She had tried butt plugs in the past, but tampons did the same job and seemed to embarrass her boys even more. “Get up now, Doug.” He stood and found Mrs. Warren waiting with a pair of transparent plastic panties, which she helped him pull up his legs. “Two rules: first, you may not sit or lie down while holding an enema. It’s medically dangerous,” she lied. She’d learned that it was harder for her babies to hold it in while standing. “Second, to get maximum benefit, you should hold it in for twenty minutes. After that, we’ll put a diaper back on you and let you empty. These panties are just in case of an accident, but I certainly don’t expect you to need them. Okay, now run along. I suggest you make yourself some breakfast.” Doug nodded and headed downstairs as Mrs. Warren followed. He was feeling extremely self-conscious of his essentially naked state, and also of the weird feeling of plastic next to his skin. On the other hand, he thought twenty minutes would be no problem, compared with the hour and a half of suppository hell. Mrs. Warren sat down in the living room as Doug poured himself some cereal. Suddenly he got an unpleasant feeling in his belly. It was sort of vague when it started, but it made him call in to Mrs. Warren to ask what would happen just in case he couldn’t hold it for twenty minutes. “What usually happens when you break one of my rules?” she called back. “I’ll give you a hint: it involves my lap and your bottom.” Doug rolled his eyes in response, careful not to let Mrs.Warren see him do it. Everything was spankings with this lady… Suddenly Doug was dropped to his knees by a huge abdominal cramp and the strongest urge to defecate he’d ever experienced. It was urgent and commanding in a way that even the diaper juice and the suppositories weren’t. He simply couldn’t stop it. He moaned as his tortured bowels ejected the enema into his transparent panties. Mrs. Warren ran in from the living room when she heard his yelp, and upon reaching the kitchen door, stood and enjoyed the view as the water and stool graphically filled his panties. The spasm relented for a moment, and Doug tried to catch his breath. What was that?! He was dazed. He tried to clear his head, when suddenly Mrs. Warren yanked him by his arm, forcing him to stand. “Upstairs, young man. I’ll teach you to respect my rules,” she said angrily. “I…I couldn’t help it,” he stammered. “Please…it wasn’t my fault.” And then, again, Doug experienced cramps, cried out, and released more enema into his dripping panties. “Oh, you’re begging for it now,” Mrs. Warren snapped, forcefully pulling him over to the stairs and dragging him up them. “Wash yourself off and then get in here pronto,” she told him. “You’ve got two minutes to be over my knees, or you’re really going to regret it.” Doug was about to cry from pain, frustration, and embarrassment, but he hurried into the bathroom, carefully removed his soaking plastic panties, and stepped into the shower. He let loose another stream of enema, quickly rinsed off, then jumped out and dried himself perfunctorily. Still nude, he hurried into the bedroom, where Mrs. Warren sat stiffly in a straight backed chair near his desk. He stopped abruptly in front of her, suddenly realizing what was about to happen. “Let’s go, little boy,” Mrs. Warren said. “You’ve only got seconds before I really get angry.” So Doug bent himself awkwardly across her lap, grabbed the chair legs as he had previously been instructed, and waited. His bare bottom tingled expectantly. He hoped that she’d go easy on him, but she sounded angry. She wasn’t really angry, of course. As she began to paddle his bottom with her strong hand, she was nearly gleeful about Doug’s apparent progress. He’d only taken about three minutes, far below average in this, the most accurate gauge of actual incontinence she had developed. Most boys at this stage lasted eight to nine minutes, but Doug had folded quickly, evidence that he was enjoying and using his diapers properly. Wonderful news. A spanking opportunity was icing for her. And she enjoyed this icing, letting her steel hands fall sharply on Doug’s reddening bottom, hearing the vain whimpers of protest dissolve into sniffles and then into outright crying. She felt a certain satisfaction as she delivered this assault. Doug wiggled helplessly, just like all the others. Grown men indeed, she thought with disdain. It was times like this that made her feel that anyone who would allow any of this to happen to himself actually deserved it. These boys, who let her take over their lives and dictate their most basic functions, who allowed her to usurp every last vestige of their independence and dignity, surely must benefit from her discipline. If they’d let themselves fall this deeply into her power, she thought, some part of them must be every bit the little baby she forced them to be. They desperately needed to be punished for their pathetic passivity. These thoughts spurred ever greater spanking effort, and she continued until she was sure Doug’s bottom would be sore for several days. Then she dumped him unceremoniously on the floor, where he lay crying. She went into the bathroom and refilled the enema bag, though this time she only put one liter of soapy warm water, since he probably hadn’t even fully expelled the last one. She forced Doug, who was now only sniffling, back on the bed and told him to lie like a puppy dog again. At this point he started crying all over again at the recognition that he would receive another enema. She smacked his bottom sharply, and he quickly resumed the position amidst his tears. She administered the enema, this time inserting the large tampon she had brought with her earlier. Doug felt the plastic removed from his bottom, but to his surprise couldn’t close his anus. Something was still there, and it quickly swelled with the water from the enema, expanding and filling his anal canal completely. Doug turned his head around, hoping to see what it was, but there was nothing to see. He looked to Mrs. Warren for an explanation, and she nearly laughed out loud at his confusion. Doug didn’t understand what was happening, but his bottom still stung enough that he didn’t want to ask any questions, so he remained unsure of what she’d done. She made him put on another pair of transparent panties, this time just for show, since nothing would get out of his bottom this time, and led him downstairs, where he tried to finish making his breakfast. The heat from his burning bottom built up inside of his panties, making it difficult for him to concentrate. This time, when the cramps hit him, he again let out a yell and doubled over in pain, but as his intestines tried to expel the enema, they met the impenetrable resistance of the tampon, and, indeed, nothing came out. Doug was surprised and a bit upset, since the pain therefore continued unabated. The cramps eventually let up, but resumed after another minute, and by the time twenty minutes were over, Doug was crying again. He never even finished making his breakfast. Mrs. Warren gently led him upstairs and replaced his panties with one of his disposable diaper. He had never been so overjoyed to get into one. Mrs. Warren reached down the back of his diaper with a gloved hand and pulled the tampon’s string, gently working it out of Doug’s bottom. She withdrew her hand as quickly as possible, leaving the tampon behind, since she knew from experience that the client’s anal sphincter was probably totally worthless at this point of the exercise. And sure enough, a liter of liquid immediately and uncontrollably gushed out into Doug’s diaper. So again Mrs. Warren changed Doug, who was nearly catatonic after everything he’d been through. He didn’t put up any resistance and probably wouldn’t have even noticed the fact that she inserted the last two suppositories before taping him up again, except that she pointed it out and told him to try not to poop for ninety minutes. After locking him one final time into the panties, she finally left for the morning, not to return until after noon. Doug was not surprised to feel the pellets ooze helplessly out of his bottom into his diaper less than fifteen minutes later. He didn’t care. He went to sleep. Not even his sore, hot bottom could interfere with his exhaustion. When Mrs. Warren returned six hours later, she told Doug once again to clean himself up, which he did. Doug was remotely upset when Mrs. Warren told him that they weren’t done yet, that he needed one more enema before it was all over, since he hadn’t melted these pellets either. But he had run out of emotion, and felt his misery only dully now. For twenty minutes following the administration of the enema, he did find the energy to cry, as colonic spasms shook him repeatedly. But then it was over, and Mrs. Warren cleaned and rediapered him, told him to count his messy diapers from now on, and then left him alone. Finally, he sat numbly on his sofa, relieved to be wearing nothing but a nice, fresh diaper. His bowels felt totally worn out. He couldn’t believe what had happened to him over the past day, so he just tried to block it out and watch TV. Five months, he thought. Five months. Chapter 10 Doug’s recovery from his “bowel encouragement” took the rest of the weekend. He was worn out. He was definitely not up to facing Emily the next day in the grocery store, and was greatly relieved when arrived to find her (again) not there, this time because it happened to be her day off. Another uneventful trip around the store with the quiet homely girl, who, while not providing the sexual thrill that Emily did, also did not fill him with anxiety, either. He was happy to get home and relax for the rest of the day. The work week, too, was unremarkable. Doug did find himself filling his diet with fiber, trying to avoid a repeat performance of last week when he apparently turned in too few messy diapers. This had the unpleasant effect of significantly increasing the mess in each diaper, the number of messy diapers, and the amount of cleanup necessary. It also led unavoidably to several embarrassing accidents at work, which Doug was horrified about, but after several tense, messy trips to the restroom, hoping nobody smelled him, he decided that either everyone was being remarkably nonchalant about the whole thing, or else they really weren’t noticing. The increased risk of discovery, however, still seemed worth the knowledge that he wouldn’t have to undergo any more “encouragement.” By midweek he’d recovered enough nerve to plan another orgasm. He made sure the elements were in place, and then carefully executed the plan. He enjoyed another wonderful moment of pleasure (even if it was alone). And once again, everything went flawlessly, the evidence apparently being missed by Mrs. Warren’s legion of suspicious inspectors. This ended Doug’s fifth week on a high note, as he again congratulated himself on his genius. He would now force himself to wait another week before attempting another orgasm. It was difficult but necessary, and better than nothing at all. As Sunday once again approached, he started to get worried about facing Emily. One of these weeks Emily had to be there. And when he arrived at the grocery store, he was filled with anxiety to learn that this would be that week: Emily would escort him today. Over the weeks, he had often struggled with what he should let happen today. Though his hormones were kept at a sky-high level by his infrequent sexual release, and though the thought of Emily raised this level even further, there were two excellent reasons not to allow himself to get involved with her. First, their age difference, while not criminal, was odd. He would feel a little like he was robbing the cradle. Second, if anything happened, it (like everything else, apparently) would certainly get back to Mrs. Warren, and there was no telling what would happen. His bottom had just stopped being sore from last week about three days ago, and he wanted to be very good right now. He was turning into a wimp, he knew, but he told himself he should avoid sex. He’d get his life back in a few months. So he’d made the decision not to let anything happen. His only worry was that Emily might make this promise difficult for him to keep. He half dreaded (and half craved) her checking his diaper. Would she try to take things further than she did last time? “Hi, Doug!” she chirped as she walked up to him. She gave his diaper, necessarily visible outside his shirt, a little upward tug, apparently to make sure it wasn’t falling down. Doug felt the motion in his genitals, and was distressed to observe that they were already betraying him by becoming aroused. Hopefully it wouldn’t become an embarrassing problem later. “Have you been a good boy?” she asked playfully as Doug tried to start shopping. Doug nodded, unwilling either to lead her on or to divulge any more embarrassing details about his situation. “Any more spankings?” she asked, with obvious interest. Doug bit his lip. Last weekend’s activities were the last thing he wanted to talk about. Emily saw this written on his face. “Uh-oh,” she said, laughing. “Somebody got his bottom spanked.” She paused, clearly waiting for Doug to say something. But he didn’t. “What was it for?” she asked, still smiling. No answer. “Did it hurt?” No answer. He was aware of how much spankings seemed to turn Emily on, and his lifelong desire for a “playmate” or a “Mommy” tugged at him to grab this opportunity. Could he ever find someone like this again if he passed her up? But, he reminded himself that his fantasies were no longer fantasies, but realities, and they were also no longer fun. Her interests, he was surprised to realize, didn’t really turn him on right now, though her interest itself did. At another time the irony would have amused him, but right now it hurt. “So you don’t want to talk about it, huh? That’s okay for now. It’s probably time to check that diaper of yours anyway. Come on.” Doug followed her to the hallway with trepidation. He wanted to be good. He dutifully pulled down his pants, and as always, felt his erection mount inside his diaper. He was helpless to stop it. The only issue was whether she would feel it today. He tried to think of other things, terrible brutal things, gross disgusting things, complicated scientific things, anything, but try as he might, he felt his erection still growing. He watched Emily’s face as she began to stroke his diaper, first in back, quickly, then in front. Sure enough, before long, a look of surprise crossed her face, and suddenly her fingers probed more actively and deeply through his diaper. Doug tried to ignore this, but he couldn’t help thinking how nice it felt. Even through his thick diaper, it felt so good to be touched. He felt his excitement continue to rise. He looked down at Emily, whose eyes were closed, obviously enjoying this immensely. Suddenly she stopped and said, “I can’t quite tell by feeling the outside.” Her eyes shone with excitement. “I’m afraid I’ll need to check the inside of your diaper, Doug.” She reached up to untape him. Doug panicked. This definitely crossed the line, he thought. In a reflex movement, Doug’s hands caught hers before she could accomplish her task. “Emily…please don’t. I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Emily’s eyes flashed up at him in sudden anger. “What are you talking about? Who are you to say what is or isn’t a good idea? I’m the babysitter, and if I say I need to check the inside of your diaper, then that’s what I’ll do.” She reached out again toward Doug’s waist. Again he stopped her. “Please,” he pleaded. “We both know where this is headed, and even though I want it too, I have to tell you that it’s a bad idea.” She was hurt, he could see. She hadn’t expected him to rebuff her seduction, and by her face Doug could tell that her ego was damaged. To Doug’s alarm, however, she seemed to convert this disappointment into anger towards him. “Oh, yeah?” she challenged. “I don’t think you should be talking to me like that. I bet you want to apologize. Since I like you, I’ll give you one more chance. Go ahead. I’m waiting.” “Emily,” Doug pleaded. “Please believe me. It’s not that I don’t want to see where we could go with this, but I just can’t.” Emily’s face hardened. “Fine.” She stood, turned sharply and strode away, back toward the store. Doug sighed. Getting turned down was always unpleasant, and this had been no different. It was worse because he did want to be with her, to explore the potential between them. But he had been good, and he felt proud of himself, if extremely frustrated sexually. Mrs. Warren, he thought, would be proud when he told her. As Doug pulled up and buckled his pants, careful once again to let the diaper be visible above them, he wondered idly where Emily had rushed off to. Probably to pout somewhere, he thought. Or… Doug suddenly panicked when he realized where she had probably gone. As quick as he could waddle in his bulky diaper, Doug hurried toward the front of the store. He caught sight of Emily far ahead of him, in full stride. Doug tried to catch up to her, but she was walking very quickly, and his own diaper slowed him down a lot. “Emily!” he whispered frantically. He had to stop her from doing this. But she didn’t so much as turn her head as she strode ever closer to the customer service desk where the manager stood. “Emily, please!” Doug hissed at her. If he could stop her, he might be able to appease her. He hadn’t thought she would do this. But she had no intention of giving him another chance. Doug watched in horror as Emily reached the service desk. He slowed down and approached carefully. “Excuse me. May I please have the key to the stockroom?” “Sure, sweetie. For a diaper change or a spanking?” A smile grew on Mrs. Johnson’s face as she looked from Emily to Doug, who now stood several feet away, listening and looking scared. Finally some fun with this boy. Emily was fuming. It sort of frightened Doug to see her so angry. She was still pretty, but suddenly she also looked formidable. “A spanking. The little baby wouldn’t let me check his diaper.” Mrs. Johnson nodded in sympathy. “Well, you’re the babysitter. The rules were laid out clearly to begin with, so it’s your decision,” she said as she found the appropriate key. “Do you think you can handle it alone, or would you like some help?” Doug’s head pounded and his heart was sinking into the floor. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Emily’s brow furrowed. “Well, this first time I guess I could use some help. And then the next time I’ll try it alone. I’ve just never done this before.” Once again Doug was being totally ignored. He wasn’t even asked about his side of the story. It’s like his opinion didn’t even merit attention. He began to feel dizzy and disoriented. Mrs. Johnson smiled slyly. “I guess that’s true, isn’t it? Always on the other side. Well, welcome.” Doug tried to listen, but they weren’t making much sense. “Of course I’ll help, dear. There are some helpful hints everyone should know. I’ll be glad to give whatever advice I can.” “Thanks. I’d be grateful, and he’ll really benefit from your experience, I’m sure. Are those the keys?” Mrs. Johnson nodded as she locked the door to her office behind her. “Yes. We can get started immediately.” The two females, without a glance at Doug, started back toward that infamous rear hallway. Doug didn’t move. It seemed silly to pander to their abusive whims. They weren’t his mommy, and they wouldn’t even talk to him. He wasn’t about to cooperate, when he knew it would just lead to a spanking. He just watched them walk away together, and felt more than a little irked that they should expect him simply to accompany them willingly back to the slaughterhouse. As if he should “know his place” or something. It was insulting and stupid. He heard their discussion continue. “Now, Emily, if you’ll recall, I believe spankings should follow as soon after naughty acts as possible, to assure that the child remembers for what he or she is being spanked. If you…” At this point Mrs. Johnson stopped and glanced backward down the long aisle to where Doug was standing. “Whoops. It seems we’ve lost someone.” Emily nodded. “He’s not very bright, is he?” Mrs. Johnson shook her head. “Perhaps not.” In a louder voice obviously meant for Doug’s ears, she called, “Come along, young man. We can’t very well do this without you.” Doug didn’t budge. He was thinking he should just walk out now while he had the chance. But Mrs. Johnson knew just how to motivate him. “Come on, dear. I’m sure you don’t want my report to Mrs. Warren to be any worse than it already will be.” Damn! Doug thought. He should have guessed they were good friends by now. That, unfortunately, sealed his fate. He no longer had a choice about cooperating. He hung his head and trudged back toward them. He still had a chance at damage control: if he was good for them, maybe they wouldn’t call Mrs. Warren. “That’s better,” Mrs. Johnson said as he reached them and they restarted their short march. “As I was saying, Emily, if you wait too long, the child may forget what he has done wrong.” “I hurried,” Emily said. “Do you think it’s too late?” “I don’t know,” Mrs. Johnson said as they reached the back hallway. She opened the storeroom with her key. “Why don’t you ask him?” “Okay,” Emily said, smiling wickedly at Doug. “Doug, do you remember why you need a spanking?” This was the opportunity he’d been waiting for, a chance to tell his side. “Yeah, right. Mrs. Johnson, what really happened was, I had already let her check me,” Doug said to Mrs. Johnson. “She’s lying to you. What she really did was…” “Here’s something else that’s good to learn,” Mrs. Johnson interrupted Doug to tell Emily. They entered the dark stockroom. “Never tolerate arguing or backtalk. The spanking is never subject to negotiation. That just distracts the child from the lesson to be learned. He’s probably easily confused.” Doug’s mouth hung open at this injustice as Emily smirked at him behind Mrs. Johnson’s back. She knew she’d won. “You simply need to tell the child that he is going to get a spanking now, no matter what. Then remind him why he needs it, in case he forgot, and inform him that backtalk will only lead to a longer and more painful spanking for him. Why don’t you practice saying that to Doug?” she suggested, flipping on a light to reveal shelves of boxes and piles of empty, flattened cardboard. Doug rolled his eyes in disgust, which luckily went unnoticed. “Doug, I don’t tolerate any backtalk, and we’re not going to talk about whether or not you need a spanking. You are definitely going to get a spanking now, because you wouldn’t let me check your diaper like a good baby. Do you understand?” Doug stared at her. She couldn’t really expect him to play along. “Answer her, Doug,” Mrs. Johnson prompted. Doug nodded sullenly. Mrs. Johnson swiftly reached around and smacked Doug’s diapered bottom. “You treat us with respect, young man, or you won’t want to sit down for a week. I want to hear a ‘yes, ma'am' or ‘no, ma’am’ from you when you answer our questions. Is that understood?” “Yes, ma’am.” Doug hated this. Stupid, evil women. “Good. Now answer Emily’s question.” “Yes, ma’am,” Doug told Emily, his voice trembling slightly with frustration. “Good boy,” Mrs. Johnson said to Doug. To Emily, “See how I did that? Swift and appropriate punishment that a child like Doug can understand, coupled with instructions on how to avoid more punishment.” She turned and indicated a chair which sat near a wall. “Now let’s get going.” Emily walked over and seated herself stiffly in the chair. She clearly enjoyed playing the role of an angry mommy. Doug couldn’t help wondering why it was that she seemed to enjoy hurting and abusing him. On a more practical note, he was beginning to hope that Emily’s inexperience would make this experience less painful than the spankings of Mrs. Warren. After all, he thought, it had to be less painful than that. “Now, dear, the first issue is what position to use. I, as you know, favor the lap position, not only because it’s humiliating for him, but also because you really have good physical control of him as well. It is also a convenient position from which to deliver a good, hard spanking, which is, of course, your goal. For some reason, I find it to be the most emotionally satisfying position as well.” “Come lie over my lap,” Emily commanded Doug. “Not so fast, sweetie. You want to do this to his bare bottom, right?” Emily nodded enthusiastically. “Then you need him to pull down his pants before you get him on your lap. Otherwise you’ll have an awkward time. The diaper may be removed either before or after he bends over your knee. I like to untape or unpin it and pull it back once he’s there, though, so that the front of the diaper is still there to protect your lap. It’s not uncommon to have little children let loose in the middle of the spanking because they get so upset, and the last thing you want is to emerge all wet from a satisfying and effective spanking. It can ruin a perfectly good spanking.” She looked at Doug, who was taking in this scene but hardly believing it was happening. A spanking lesson, with him as the subject. “Has that ever happened to you, Doug?” Doug stared at her. He couldn’t believe he was being asked this question. The absurdity of the situation washed over him. He wanted to laugh. But her eyes remained on him and grew hard. Doug remembered her earlier admonition, and said, “No, ma’am,” as politely as he could. “Well, it might today. Maybe you just haven’t been spanked hard enough,” she commented ominously. “Go ahead, dear,” she said to Emily. “Pull down your pants, young man,” the girl called out to Doug. Doug obeyed reluctantly. This was unlike any of the experiences he’d had thus far. This was so academic, so clearly not motivated by anger or justified by his behavior. Yet the painful outcome would be the same. They even appeared to be having fun. It was so unfair: this time, he knew, he had done nothing wrong. In fact, he had been trying to obey a rule. And yet, here he was, pants around his ankles, about to have his bottom paddled by this spoiled teenager who was just mad because Doug hadn’t acquiesced to her sexual demands. His life was so unfair. “Now come over here,” Emily told him, and he slowly tried to shuffle his pants-clad feet toward her, until he was standing in front of her. “Oh, Emily,” Mrs. Johnson exclaimed. “This is a good time to show you another trick to use with him. It works even when he knows it’s coming.” She had Emily turn her chair to the side so that Doug was on one side of her lap. Doug watched uneasily, not sure of what would happen. “Good. Now notice that because his ankles are essentially tied together by his pants, he has almost no balance. You can grab a wrist and pull, and he’ll topple right into place on your lap.” Suddenly Emily reached up, grabbed Doug’s wrist, and pulled, and even though Doug knew it was coming, he found himself helplessly falling over, until he landed on Emily’s lap, his diapered bottom high in the air, his feet off the ground. “Good girl,” Mrs. Johnson told Emily, who returned a broad smile. “See how easy that is? And once his pants are down, he can’t really do anything about it. Part of a spanking is also showing the child just who is in control, and by easily turning even a big boy like Doug over your knee, you’ve taught him an important lesson about your relationship.” From Doug’s position he couldn’t see Emily’s smile but he knew it was there anyway. “Now just enjoy this feeling for a moment. You have him well-balanced on your lap, and he can’t really touch anything to help him get up. See how helpless he is? Doug, try to stand up.” Doug was more than willing to try. He flailed his legs around, trying to touch the ground, but Emily learned quickly to elevate her knees in response to his efforts, and Doug was shocked and scared to see how correct Mrs. Johnson was. He couldn’t really use his hands because of the odd position. He was totally helpless. The women laughed at his struggle. “This is fun!” exclaimed Emily as she watched Doug squirm. “Yes,” agreed Mrs. Johnson. "I figured you might like this. Now, Doug, settle down so we can get on with this. Emily, the next step is, of course, to pull his diaper down. Just reach around and undo the tapes on either side…that’s right…and just pull back…and voila! That’s what you want to see! I usually tuck the back of the diaper under here in the back so it doesn’t get in the way. Good. “Now we need to talk about the actual spanking. You’re right-handed, so he’s turned the right way, with the head toward the left. With little children it doesn’t matter, but his bottom is angled because he’s so big. The stroke itself should involve your whole arm, right from the shoulder. Bring your hand down from up high: use gravity to help. This is an athletic endeavor, and you need strength and endurance. Luckily, as the pitcher for your softball team, you ought to be well-prepared to give a long, hard spanking, but make sure to pace yourself. Don’t waste all your strength at first. Lasting soreness in the bottom, which I think helps reinforce the lesson long after the spanking is over, is accomplished more by the length of the spanking than by the intensity. The intensity just makes it more fun.” Doug wanted to disappear. It was just too horrible: to have them looking and talking about his bare bottom, and how best to hurt and embarrass him. "You can use various implements, of course: belts, spoons, a hairbrush, but as you know, I favor the open palm. It’s most convenient, since you always have it. I think it’s good for the child to know that you’re always capable of disciplining him; you don’t have to run off and find a big wooden spoon before he’s sorry he did something wrong. The noise it makes is also most satisfying. "Distribution of strokes is another personal style matter. I don’t think it matters, as long as the strokes are hard and the spanking is long. Vary the location, or don’t; either way, you can teach him an effective lesson. Make sure most end up on the lower bottom, near his thighs, where he sits. He’ll remember those most. “Finally, you need to decide when to end your spanking. Often it’s when you get tired, but since you’re such a conditioned athlete, that may not happen before you should stop.” Doug groaned audibly at this. He had to get a pitcher. Just his luck. "Don’t go only by his crying, because smart children try to use that to convince you they’ve learned their lessons when they haven’t. Spank past the cry and well into the uncontrolled wailing stage when they’ve lost composure and have given up. You’ll just have to learn when that is. Today, I’ll try to help you to tell. “Okay, any questions?” Doug had many, but he wasn’t being asked. Why him? he wanted to know. Would he really reach “the wailing stage?” Was she going to spank hard? How long would it last? How would he… SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! Three blows in quick succession. Doug gasped, since he somehow never expected it to be as painful as it was. And suddenly, then, there was a pause, as Mrs. Johnson interrupted. “Good start, but put more of that powerful shoulder of yours into it, and slow down slightly, so that he feels each stroke.” SPANK!! “Owww!” howled Doug uncontrollably. She’d hit him very hard. “There you go!” cheered Mrs. Johnson. “Keep it up. He’ll cry before too long.” SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! The blows came regularly now, and Doug cried out with each one. The pain burned intensely, and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Out of frustration he flung a hand back to protect himself. “Aha!” he heard Mrs. Johnson cry out, as the spanks stopped temporarily. Then he felt a searing pain in his shoulder and realized that his arm was being twisted violently, up near the back of his neck. He screamed in surprise and pain. “At this point, Emily, you can either threaten him with a longer spanking, or with keeping his arm up like this throughout the entire spanking. It’s obviously quite painful yet easy to do. Try it.” And then Doug felt his arm, weakened and vulnerable in this position, released briefly, and then yanked up even higher behind him. “Owwww!” he yelled in protest. “Wow. That is easy. You’re right. Doug, do you want me to hold your arm like this until your spanking is over?” Doug had begun to whimper. The pain was tremendous. “No,” he whined. He felt the pain worsen as he simultaneously received a smack on his bottom. She could spank him at the same time? Uh-oh… “No, what?” “Ohhhh…No, ma’am,” he moaned. “That’s better. Then keep it away from your bottom, okay?” “Yes, ma’am.” Doug felt his arm released, and he brought it down gingerly. SPANK!! He yelled again in pain. SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! It wasn’t long before Doug’s helplessness, pain, and frustration built up in a noisy cry. He didn’t see Emily glance up at Mrs. Johnson and smile, and he missed Mrs. Johnson smiling back and nodding. “Keep going, sweetie. Don’t be satisfied with these first tears,” she yelled over the noise of the spanks and Doug’s crying. So they kept going. For Doug, the pain only mounted, and soon crying wasn’t enough. He gasped and yelled and cried all at once, his protests indeed turning into a kind of wail. At this point the women again exchanged knowing glances, and Emily happily redoubled her efforts, glad to see results so quickly. After what seemed like hours, when the spanking still showed no signs of letting up, Doug grew tired, and his cries sank into a continuous, sad whimper. Finally Mrs. Johnson nodded to Emily, who gave Doug’s inflamed bottom one more huge swat and then stopped. Doug’s whimpering continued uncontrollably. “Very nice, honey. You can be sure he’ll remember this well. At this point, with a child so big, you may just want to help him roll off your lap onto the floor, where you can rediaper him. He probably lacks the coordination right now to stand.” Emily nodded and extended her legs, letting Doug roll/slide down them onto the floor. He did, however, leave his diaper on her lap, and when Emily looked down at it, she erupted in a joyous squeal. “Look! I did it! I did it!” Mrs. Johnson looked, and sure enough, the diaper was yellow and wet where it had been white and dry before. Doug, still crying softly on the floor, also peered up and saw the wet diaper. He was surprised, as he didn’t at all remember it happening. But he told himself it would have happened to anyone who went through that spanking. Denial is often a powerful tool. “You sure did, Emily,” Mrs. Johnson was nodding her head approvingly. “Excellent job. You’re obviously a natural at this. Of course, you should be,” she said, smiling. “It’s in your genes.” Doug nearly choked. He stopped crying and stared, for the first time seeing the resemblance between them. Could it be? “You’re right about that, Mom,” Emily was saying as she wrapped up Doug’s wet diaper. “Maybe he’ll learn from it just as much as I did when I was little.” Doug blinked back his tears, trying to accept this information. But he found it hard to concentrate on such enlightening news in his exhausted and painful condition. “I don’t know, honey,” Mrs. Johnson laughed. “The situation’s a little different here; you’ll just have to trust me on that. Anyway, where is the diaper he brought with him?” “I guess it’s still in his cart out in the store,” Emily replied. “Why don’t you go get that and bring it back so we can get him dressed?” “Okay.” In a moment she had returned with the diaper, along with some powder and lotion as well. “I thought these might come in handy. They’re from aisle seven.” Mrs. Johnson smiled at Doug, who sat, sniffling, on the floor. The cold cement felt good on his hot, red bottom. “One of the benefits of being a manager.” Doug very weakly smiled back. He watched as the teenager who had first been his babysitter, then his seductress, then his disciplinarian, opened his diaper and spread it on the floor. She looked up at her mother, and said, “What we really need is a changing pad.” Mrs. Johnson nodded. “Yes, you’re right. Maybe our baby boy can remember to bring one next week so his little tushie won’t be so cold. Do you think you can remember that, young man?” “Yes, ma’am,” Doug muttered. He was thinking how dreadful it would be to come back for abuse like this weekly. “For now, though, cement will have to do,” Emily said. “Now bring that little red bottom over here, and let’s get you into this nice diaper.” Not about to object at this point, Doug scooted himself over onto the diaper and laid back against the concrete. “Ooh,” cooed Emily, as she reached out to touch his groin. “What pretty smooth skin the baby has.” Doug looked down and suddenly remembered that he was bare down there. The heat of the spanking had distracted him. He was now terribly embarrassed to have Emily see him like this. Worse than that, however, was that she was reaching out to touch him. He held his breath as she began stroking his hairless crotch, rubbing in some of the baby lotion she’d brought. Despite the embarrassment and the remaining pain, the touch felt very good to Doug. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of her hands on his thighs, on his bottom, on his genitalia. It felt especially good on his hot bottom. She rubbed, or actually, caressed, him thoroughly, and in Doug’s sexually deprived state, it didn’t take much to induce some venous congestion in a particular region, announcing itself quite proudly, despite the pain and embarrassment he felt. Emily squealed again. “Look, Mom, it’s his little pee-pee! I guess you like your babysitter, don’t you?” she teased. Doug was mortified. But, then, it felt so good. So he was torn when Mrs. Johnson said, “Alright, that’s enough massaging there, Emily. It’s not nice to tease the little boy. Let’s just get his diaper on. I’ve got some things to do in my office.” So Emily quickly powdered Doug and pulled his diaper up between his legs, taping him in securely. Then she had him stand, and she pulled up his pants and buckled them, careful to tuck his shirt inside his diaper so that the diaper stuck out visibly above his belt, as it had when he’d arrived at the store. “Just continue his shopping, I guess, Emily, for now. But come see me before you check out.” With that Mrs. Johnson walked out, and Doug and Emily followed, but not before Emily flashed him a smile and whispered, “Hope you enjoyed that as much as I did, little boy. Guess next time I check your diaper you’ll be a little more cooperative.” Doug didn’t say anything. He just rubbed his diapered bottom, hot under the padding and plastic. The shopping proceeded without another incident, though Doug did have to put up with comments from Emily like, “Just think, every time you sit down this week you’ll think of me,” and “By the way, what do you use to get such a nice close shave?” followed by an outburst of giggling. But he knew better than to argue. And without too much fuss, he finished his shopping and stopped with Emily at Mrs. Johnson’s desk on the way to check out. “Oh, good, you’re here,” Mrs. Johnson said when she saw them. “Doug, I talked with your mommy, Mrs. Warren, and she wants you to bring home a slightly different load of groceries than the one you’ve selected. Don’t worry: it won’t take any more time. I’ve already had someone gather the items for you. They’re also already bagged and waiting for you, ready to go. You’ve been through enough already. All you need to do is give us a check for $37.35, and you can get on home.” Doug was, of course, surprised, and more than a little alarmed. What kind of groceries would Mrs. Warren pick out for him? He looked to his right, where Mrs. Johnson had indicated, and there was another cart standing alone, with several full bags in it. He couldn’t see what was in them. He had a feeling that he was being set up for something, but he couldn’t imagine what. At least it wasn’t more expensive than his regular groceries, and he didn’t have to spend any more time shopping. So he got out his checkbook, wrote a check, and handed it over to Mrs. Johnson. She smiled at him, which he was learning wasn’t always good for him. “Oh, just one thing: it’s asparagus you don’t like, right?” Doug nodded slowly at her, trying to figure out how she knew and why she was asking. He hoped it was so that she hadn’t picked out something he wouldn’t like. “Yes, ma’am. It makes me gag.” She smiled again. “Good, then we’re fine. Take care this week, Doug, and we’ll see you next Sunday.” “Yeah,” Emily chimed in. “I’ll see you next Sunday,” she said with a meaningful glance. Uh-oh, he thought. I don’t want to go through this again. He’d have to figure out something to say or do before then. For now, though, he just nodded and left, pushing his new cart of groceries out to the car. The plastic grocery bags were tied up, so he still couldn’t see inside. He tried to open one as he put them in his trunk, but the knots were too tight. He’d need to cut them open to see what they were. One thing was certain, however: they were very heavy. Doug climbed into his car, and his bottom protested intensely as he sat down. Damn, he thought. I hate spankings. Chapter 11 He pulled into his apartment complex and was disturbed to see Mrs. Warren’s van there. He cautiously opened the door to his apartment, and heard Mrs. Warren upstairs. This seemed like a good sign, since she wasn’t so angry that she was waiting at the door to give him another spanking. He knew she knew about his spanking at the store, and would be angry, but if she wasn’t going to spank him, he could probably tolerate it. Still, he wanted to avoid facing her, so he brought in the rest of the groceries, setting them on the counter in the kitchen. He was about to cut one of the bags open when he heard Mrs. Warren behind him. “I heard someone was a bad little boy at the grocery store today,” she commented. “Yes, Mommy,” Doug said meekly. He wanted to appear contrite and not in need of another spanking. He wanted to tell her he’d been good, but had a hunch it would get him into more trouble than just admitting wrong-doing. “Then what happened?” Mrs. Warren asked him, mostly to embarrass him, since she already knew. Doug looked down, ashamed to say it, even if she already knew. “I got a spanking, Mommy,” he murmured. “That’s what I heard,” she agreed. “It seems like someone forgot who he was for a little while. You forgot who was the little baby and who was the babysitter in charge of you. Is that what happened?” No, he wanted to say. But just to get past this embarrassing scene, he said, “Yes, Mommy.” She smiled at his passive acceptance of her interpretation. He was making this easy. “Well, maybe we need a little reminder of what a little baby we are. Luckily for you, I happen to have just the thing to help.” Doug looked up at her suspiciously. He hoped this wasn’t going where he thought it was going. “Come on upstairs, and I’ll show you.” She led him to his room, where several pairs of footed pajamas were displayed on his bed. They were all fuzzy, with babyish-looking bear imprints on the chests. Worst of all they were all an infantile pastel pink color. Mrs. Warren watched him as he stood, mouth open, gaping with shock and disappointment at his new sleepwear. “All yours,” she said pleasantly, "for a nice wholesale price. I’m sure you’ll be happy to pay it, since they can replace whatever else you were wearing to bed. And I know you’ll appreciate how they’ll help you remember your ICP role better. "They’re warm and comfy, with snaps down the front, in the crotch, and down the legs so you can change yourself easily. You wear one every night and for naps. And I will check on you to make sure you’re being a good baby. “Now come back downstairs and see what else you can do to help.” He walked downstairs with her, a bit numb from the shock of those pink sleepers, but also a bit worried about what he might find down here. “Of course,” she continued, “I would have thought diapers would have been enough, but if a client needs help, I can certainly provide it.” They walked into the kitchen. Mrs. Warren opened the cupboard. Doug was shocked to see his entire cupboard of glasses filled only with baby bottles and nipples. Mrs. Warren smiled and pulled open a drawer under the counter, exposing a stack of pink and yellow bibs. “And just to drill it into your thick little head,” she said, grabbing a pair of scissors, “you’re going to eat like a baby, too.” She cut open one of Doug’s grocery bags, showing Doug the case of Gerber’s baby food inside. Doug gasped. She opened another bag, showing him another case of the same. “This, and only this, is what you will eat for the next seven days. You must finish it all, and you may not have more. So plan carefully, and make it last. And yes, you will be punished if there are any problems with this. That is your food.” And here she cut open the last bag, exposing a case of dry baby formula. "And this is the only thing you are allowed to drink,” she continued. “There is plenty here, and you are welcome to drink as much or as little as you like of this. But you may not have anything else to drink, not even water.” Doug continued to stare, open-mouthed. What did THAT stuff taste like?! “By the way, I’d advise you to mix it with this Metamucil if you’re having trouble meeting your messy diaper quota. I doubt there’s much fiber in here. Obviously, you must wear a bib for all meals, and drink your formula from these bottles. I’ve checked your refrigerator, so I know what’s there. I’ll check again at the end of the week,” she finished. “Any questions?” Doug wanted to cry. But he didn’t want to object. In a way he knew he should still be grateful he wasn’t getting a spanking. To her, he whispered, “No, Mommy.” “Good. Call me before dinner, and I’ll come check on you. Have a nice afternoon.” Doug was left alone to stare at his punishment. He was not happy about this: could he even tolerate eating the baby food, let alone the formula? Maybe it depended on what flavors he had. He suddenly got a bad feeling, remembering Mrs. Johnson’s strange question at the store. He peeked in the bag. There was an assortment, but at least a quarter of the baby food was strained asparagus. That was just too much. Doug sat down on the kitchen floor and cried. How could they be so mean to him? What had he ever done to deserve it? This punishment, like his earlier spanking, was especially frustrating because it came after he had tried to be a good boy, much as he hated it. It seemed like he couldn’t win. And forcing him to eat asparagus, which he really did gag on, simply seemed cruel. But what could he do about it? It always came down to that. And the answer today, he knew, must be the same as any other day: nothing. He had to obey. He’d come pretty far in this program, farther than he thought he could come, and if he could just hold on a few more months, it would all be over. Before dinner he dutifully called Mrs. Warren, who arrived in time to help him with his first baby meal. He chose a yellow bib with a bunny on the front, the most innocuous of the choices, and tied it around his neck awkwardly. He sat down with three jars of baby food, which Mrs. Warren had “kindly” helped him to pick out, telling him he should choose a meat, a vegetable, and a fruit. He stared at the labels she chose: liver, asparagus, and bananas. Next to these was a bottle of warm formula. He opened the jars and smelled the first, liver. It smelled putrid. It couldn’t be edible. But Mrs. Warren was watching with a big smile on her face, so he pinched his nose and gulped down a bite. It still tasted horrible, even without the smell. But he grimaced and kept going. By the end of the first jar, tears ran down his face. He interrupted each bite with a suck from his bottle, which, although not appealing, was nonetheless better than the baby food. Mrs. Warren cheered him along the way, adding to Doug’s humiliation by snapping several pictures of him in this new degradation. Doug knew that these would be added to the others, and used if he ever decided to rebel. He fought his way through the asparagus, gagging several times when he accidently caught a whiff of what he tried to force down his own throat. Finally, with some trepidation, he tried the banana. That turned out to be pretty good, relatively speaking, he thought. The consistency could have been better, but it was otherwise palatable. He finished his meal meekly, received congratulations from his “mommy,” and retired to watch TV after she left. He was still hungry, so he brought in his bottle and sucked on it until he got sleepy and wet. He changed his diaper, and put on one of his new pink sleepers. He wasn’t surprised to find that they fit perfectly, and though the thought of how Mrs. Warren had gotten his measurements passed fleetingly through his mind, he ignored it. Her ability to know and control every aspect of his life did not amaze him any more. Before going to sleep for the night, he stared at himself in the bedroom mirror. He couldn’t really believe what he saw. Before him, where two months ago had stood a grown man, now stood what looked like a little toddler. Today he’d been spanked and diapered by a stranger, had eaten baby food, worn a bib, drunk formula from a bottle, and was now staring at himself dressed in a fuzzy pink sleeper, the bulge of his diaper clearly visible in his groin and his bottom. He shook his head. What else could possibly happen to him? And could he manage to make it through this week? He could, as it turned out. But the days dragged on forever, it seemed. He ate lunch at home every day, since he couldn’t possibly wear a bib or drink from a bottle at work. Every meal was an ordeal which repeatedly reminded him never to question the women around him who wanted to humiliate him. This week essentially taught him that pride had become expendable to him. He’d much rather eat palatable food than to raise any more objections. His planned orgasm this week was even more wonderful than last week, because in addition to the physical sensations he experienced, the event also was coming to symbolize a measure of sweet defiance for him, however brief or insignificant. It was now the only aspect of his life over which he exerted even a minimal amount of control. He enjoyed getting away with such a big infraction in the face of the all-powerful Mrs. Warren. And once again, the plan was executed flawlessly. The following Sunday Mrs. Warren asked him if he’d learned his lesson. “Yes, Mommy.” “Good boy. You can go back to eating grown-up food and using grown-up glasses for now. But I think we’ll keep wearing the bib for all meals at home and your cute little PJs for bed, just as a continuing reminder. Maybe then you won’t get into trouble again. “And in the future, if you do have any other memory problems, we might add the food or bottles back for a little while, or permanently. So be good. Oh, and I think we’ll have to keep you on probation for a while now. You’re obviously not disciplined enough yet to be trusted.” Doug was both disappointed and relieved. Thank goodness the food and bottles were out of his life, but he hadn’t wanted to continue with the bibs or the sleepers either. But he just nodded his head. “Okay, Mommy.” “Good boy. And good luck this afternoon at the store. Please try to be a good boy.” Doug took a deep breath. What would happen today, and what should he do about Emily? Doug saw a smile spread across Emily’s face as she walked over to meet him at the customer service desk. He wondered what she had in mind for today. It didn’t matter. He’d long since decided that he wouldn’t protest a thing she did today. He’d tried being good, and the outcome had been disappointing enough as to dissuade him from attempting that again. He hadn’t even wanted to be good in the first place, for goodness sake. So today, he’d go with the flow, and just enjoy it. The result had to be better than last week. “Hi, Doug!” she said. “I hope you’re in a more…cooperative mood today.” She wore the confident expression of a young woman who knew that she could get whatever she wanted. She was about to say something else, but Mrs. Johnson caught sight of Doug and interrupted. “Well, hello, little Doug. Are you going to be a good boy today?” “Yes, ma’am,” Doug said sincerely. “Good. Did you remember a changing pad this week, just in case?” “Yes, ma’am,” Doug answered, holding forward his lovely pink diaper bag, out of which peeked a vinyl changing pad. He’d given up and just decided to bring the whole bag. It wasn’t any more embarrassing than carrying around a clean diaper. “Excellent. That should be more comfortable for you than the cold cement. And what a pretty bag for a little boy,” she cooed, and Doug felt himself turning red. “Alright, you two can get to shopping. Just check in before you leave. Emily, let me know if you need the stockroom key again.” “Okay, Mom,” Emily said. She and Doug, as usual, headed toward the produce section. “Mom told me about your special groceries last week,” she said with a smirk. “Were they good?” Doug shook his head. “No,” he said with a definite air of resentment. It was mostly her fault. “No, what?” Emily prompted with a smile. She loved this. Doug stared at her for a second, confused. Then he understood. “No, ma’am,” he mumbled gruffly. She didn’t deserve the full treatment. Emily, however, believed that she did. She grabbed his arm. “Hey. You be respectful to me, young man. I’m just dying to get more practice in that back room. Now answer my question again.” Doug turned toward his pretty, young, and tormenting babysitter. He was embarrassed to have to obey her every whim, but he was trapped and he knew it. “No, ma’am, I didn’t enjoy my food this week.” He paused, then decided to confront her. “Why’d you do that to me, anyway?” She snorted. “You shouldn’t question me. I’m the babysitter, and that’s my job. Sometimes babies need spankings.” “I’m not a baby,” he objected, though he could have guessed her response even before she said it. “Oh, no,” she replied sarcastically. “You just wet your pants, wear diapers, eat baby food, and have a babysitter. But you’re not a baby. What would you call yourself?” Doug shook his head, and turned to continue shopping. She was right. He couldn’t explain his situation rationally. He didn’t know what he’d call it, anyway, other than absurd. “That’s what I thought,” she said. A silent moment was followed by a chuckle. “Did you like the asparagus?” Doug scowled at her. “No, ma’am.” “Then maybe you’ll be a good boy and do what I tell you today.” Her expression lightened. “And, hey, don’t worry. It’ll be fun!” That was likely to be true, Doug admitted to himself. He started to get nervous as they approached the back hallway. “Well,” she said. “Let’s go check you out!” She reached out a hand for Doug, who rather reluctantly took it and followed. He tried to take deep breaths and relax, but he was already extremely anxious, and could feel a raging erection form within his diaper. They went to the hallway, where Doug obediently pulled down his pants, as he had in previous weeks. Emily knelt before him to begin her “examination.” She closed her eyes and started stroking the front of his diaper, this time dispensing with the charade of “checking” the back of his diaper. He could barely feel her touch through the thick disposable material, but what he could feel excited him even more. It built and built as she continued stroking him through the plastic and padding. He was breathing heavily and was almost near climax by the time Emily said, “Oh, I definitely need to look inside today. Any objections?” She looked up at him with a coy, questioning glance. “No, ma’am,” Doug said quietly. He stared ahead, back toward where the hallway led to the rest of the store. Because they were beyond a turn in the hall, he couldn’t see the store from where they were, but he wondered what would happen if somebody walked in on them. Employees had to come back here, Doug thought. But Emily did not seem to be concerned, and perhaps she knew the store better than he. Doug, at any rate, could hardly do anything about it. He, too, closed his eyes so he wouldn’t think about it. Emily carefully pulled one tape loose, then the other, then slowly lowered the front of Doug’s diaper to reveal his hairless groin and genitalia. His erection, freed from its confines, sprung up energetically and surprised Emily. “Oh!” she exclaimed, then started laughing. “Oh, so that’s how you feel! I can’t believe you put up such a fuss last week.” She giggled. “But it actually doesn’t matter, you know. I’m the babysitter, and we’ll do whatever I want to do.” Doug opened his eyes briefly and nearly fainted when he saw Emily actually lick her lips. “And what I want to do…is see what happens when I do this…” With that she reached out with one hand and stroked Doug’s penis. He closed his eyes again. It felt so good to be touched. He moaned quietly; it had been so long. Emily giggled softly as she heard it. “See? I told you it’d be fun. You just have to be a good little baby and do whatever I say…” “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” a stern voice boomed from behind Emily. Doug snapped open his eyes to see an angry Mrs. Johnson towering over the kneeling Emily, who shrieked and lost her balance, falling backward onto the floor at her mother’s feet. “I…I…I…was just…um…well, I…” Emily stuttered. Doug awkwardly covered himself with his diaper, retaping it as best he could over a rapidly disappearing erection. Oh, boy, he thought. This was going to be bad. What would happen to him now? How could he ever explain this? He took a deep breath. Two Sundays in a row… “I can see what you were just doing, young lady. And last time I checked that was not on the list of babysitting duties!” Doug let out his breath slowly. Wait a minute, he thought. She seemed to be pissed off at Emily. That was strange. Emily, too, realized where the anger seemed to be directed, and her eyes widened in fear. “It wasn’t me, Mom, I swear. He wanted to do it. He made me! He’s a horrible little baby!” she said. Doug’s heart sank at this: of course he would get blamed. It didn’t matter who was at fault, because he would never be believed. He had no credibility. “Really, Emily. Doug, whom you were babysitting, made you, his babysitter, do that? Emily, don’t embarrass yourself. I heard the whole thing. I know exactly what you were doing.” As that information sank in, Doug saw Emily’s face drain of all color. Fear grew in her eyes. It began to dawn on Doug that Emily’s ploy to blame him had not worked, and that she was still on the hot seat. Could he be spared today? He wanted to clarify this, to ask whether he was in trouble, too, but one look at Mrs. Johnson’s fearsome expression convinced him to lie low. She was fuming, her eyes ablaze. “Let me tell you something, young lady. Being in charge of a baby, even this kind of baby, is a huge responsibility. Because in this relationship his judgment counts for nothing, and yours counts for everything. You have to think for both of you, and he is forced to trust that you’ll do what’s right.” Mrs. Johnson was only getting more angry as she went along. “Sometimes that might mean a spanking for him. But it never means sex with him, do you understand? Never. Emily Johnson, breaking a child’s trust is the worst thing you could ever possibly do. And by taking advantage of his helplessness, that’s exactly what you have done.” Mrs. Johnson was pacing now, worked up into a frightful rage. Emily was watching, and was clearly scared to death. “I’m sorry, Mommy,” she said in a small voice that struck Doug as being very different from her normal tone. Now she sounded like a child. “Well, that’s great, Emily. That helps him a lot now,” Mrs. Johnson said sarcastically. “I was trying to use Doug last week in a way that would benefit Doug and be fun for us as well. But that form of teaching doesn’t seem to sink in very well for you, does it? I guess you’re not mature enough to appreciate it, are you?” She stopped pacing and stared at Emily. “No, ma’am,” Emily said quietly. She’d already guessed how this would end, having experienced this type of situation many times throughout her childhood. Doug, however, had no idea where this was headed. He did recognize Emily’s attempt to express regret and obedience in the face of a mother’s wrath, since he tried that same tact with Mrs. Warren. He watched the proceedings nervously, still unsure of his own fate. “I guess we’ll have to go back to our old way of teaching you, won’t we? It sure worked for all those years. I don’t know why I ever abandoned it. I don’t care if your dates knew that’s why you had to be home on time; it was still damned effective. It’s the only thing that ever worked for you, isn’t it?” “Yes, ma’am.” Emily hung her head. Doug’s curiosity grew. Could they be talking about what he thought they were talking about? He’d wondered about this mother-daughter relationship before. Some of their comments seemed to have suggested Emily having been spanked in the past, but he’d assumed it had been ancient history, the normal and uncommon early childhood punishment. This exchange implied more, much more, as if spanking were a regular part of Emily’s teenage years as well. No wonder Emily was so interested in it today. But he’d have time to think about that later. Right now, Mrs. Johnson was pulling out her keys. She found the one she was looking for, and crisply opened the stockroom door behind them. With a backward glance, she said, “Come on, you two.” Doug’s heart pounded. Both of them? Was he, despite his clear innocence, going to receive a spanking today as well? He watched Emily get up and trudge into the darkness of the room beyond. Doug followed her, shuffling towards the door, his pants still down around his ankles. He dared not pull them up until he was told. But Mrs. Johnson stopped him before he went in. “You can pull up your pants, Doug. You’re just a victim today, not a criminal, so you won’t be punished. But I would like you to see that even big kids get spanked if they need it, so I want you to watch.” Something small changed inside Doug at that moment. Up until now, everything he had experienced had been directed, somewhat maliciously, at him. If there was a dispute, he was wrong. If anyone was angry, it was at him. It had seemed that the whole world existed simply to humiliate and punish him. He had been alone. And up until three minutes ago, today seemed to continue in that mold, placing him in a no-win situation where anything he did was punishable. But things had suddenly changed. He wasn’t being spanked unjustly! He felt nearly gleeful as he pulled up and rebuckled his pants over his diaper. But almost immediately, his heart went out to Emily, for he knew the fear and unhappiness that she was feeling at this moment. As much as he resented her abuse of him, he wouldn’t wish his experiences on anyone. He would even have tried to help her, but he knew that he was powerless to do so. Pleading for mercy for Emily would probably lead to a spanking for him as well, and that wouldn’t make anybody’s day better. Mrs. Johnson waited patiently for him to finish getting dressed, watching as he carefully adjusted his diaper so that it would be visible to other shoppers when they returned to the store. She followed him into the stockroom, flipping on the lights and letting the door close behind her. She strode purposefully to the chair by the wall, the same chair that Emily had sat in one week ago, and pulled it out from the wall before stiffly seating herself in it. Emily lingered several feet away, eyes downcast, sniffling quietly. Doug stared at her, noticing that she, like him, wore jeans, and wondering if, like him, she would have to pull them down. Against his will, an erection began forming at this thought. “Let’s go, young lady. You should know the drill,” Mrs. Johnson said sharply to her daughter. “Get those jeans down.” Doug stood transfixed at the image of his tormentor unbuttoning and lowering her pants to her ankles. She turned away from him, and an occasional shy glance toward Doug indicated her embarrassment about this situation. Doug saw her adjust her pink flowered underpants self-consciously. Mrs. Johnson saw this, too. “Being embarrassed should be the least of your worries, little girl. He’s just a baby, remember? He doesn’t care how you look. And anyway, as interested as you were in seeing him, don’t you think he’s earned reciprocity? Pull those underpants down immediately.” “But Mom…” Emily whined.“But, nothing!” Mrs. Johnson exclaimed, rising in a surprisingly fluid motion, reaching over and grabbing Emily’s elbow, swinging her around and swatting her forcefully on her bottom through her panties. “Don’t try any backtalk today, little girl. I’m not in the mood.” “Yes, ma’am,” Emily said, her voice trembling from embarrassment, pain, and probably some angry frustration. She was too old to be treated like this. After another shy glance toward Doug she slipped her fingers inside her waistband and eased her panties down her legs. Doug again stared, and he couldn’t help but admire her athletic buttocks and legs. It was a great view of what was soon to be a very red and sore rear end. Emily stood awkwardly, no doubt feeling Doug’s eyes sweeping her body. “Come on over,” Mrs. Johnson told her, and Emily, after only a brief pause, slowly shuffled to just outside of an arm’s length of her mother, naturally wary of coming any closer. But Mrs. Johnson’s eyes narrowed at her, and Emily forced her legs to edge forward just a bit… An arm shot up, grabbing one of Emily’s wrists and pulling her forcefully over Mrs. Johnson’s lap. Emily screamed and flailed but could do nothing to prevent herself from landing smack dab across her mother's thighs, right where Mrs. Johnson wanted her. “Told you it worked,” Mrs. Johnson commented wryly. And true to form, Mrs. Johnson next sharply demanded, “Do you know why you need this spanking, little girl?” Her right hand was poised above Emily’s vulnerable and tender bottom. “Yes, ma’am,” Emily called out in a trembling voice. “Go ahead.” “…Because I was bad. I was playing with the baby’s little thing, and that’s wrong.” “You’d better believe it. And this ought to show you just how wrong it was.” And Mrs. Johnson let her hand drop, releasing a mighty blow to Emily’s bottom. Doug flinched out of habit, and Emily cried out. Doug could see the fear on her face as she awaited the next spank. It came several seconds later, and the others were also well spaced out, in order to let the sting of each sink in before the next, Doug assumed. He watched grimly as the tempo of the paddling increased. Unconsciously his hands found his own (well-padded) bottom and rubbed it repeatedly. Relief that it wasn’t him again flooded through him, as well as some inexplicable guilt (it certainly wasn’t his fault) and more understandable pity. This wasn’t as difficult as having a spanking himself, but watching wasn’t turning out to be any fun either. As he watched, he could tell as Emily entered all the stages he had experienced the week before: first simple crying, then screaming, then wailing, and finally a hopeless, defeated whimper of exhaustion that convinced Mrs. Johnson to ease and finally to stop the furious onslaught. Emily, like Doug before her, was dumped on the floor and spent a moment crying before she became alert enough to pull up her panties and jeans. Unlike Doug, Emily had not had an accident during her spanking, despite what had to have been an equally traumatic experience. Doug wouldn’t think about this until several months later. Mrs. Johnson stood and brushed herself off, replaced her chair by the wall, and approached Doug. He was understandably somewhat scared of her right now, despite her earlier reassurances, and couldn’t help backing away from her, but Mrs. Johnson knelt down and beckoned him forward, as with a shy child. Doug was surprised to see her face filled with tenderness. “By the way, did something like what happened today out in the hall also happen last week?” she asked him gently. Doug stared at the floor and nodded silently. “And that’s what you were trying to tell me last week?” He stared at Emily, standing now and rubbing the seat of her pants and still sniffling. “Yes, ma’am,” he said quietly. “Well, I’m sorry I didn’t listen,” Mrs. Johnson replied sincerely. “I don’t think it will happen again.” Doug nodded silently at this promise, inferring from the way it was said that Emily would no longer be his babysitter. This was comforting in a way, but strangely, Doug wasn’t entirely pleased by this. And indeed, the homely girl was called to finish escorting him around the store. As Doug retrieved his cart, he caught sight of Mrs. Johnson leading Emily out of the store, and he correctly concluded that that was the last he’d see of Emily, at least in the foreseeable future. The grocery store would become a less threatening, but also, he had to admit, a less exciting place to shop from now on. That night Doug had trouble sleeping. The day’s events seemed to replay themselves continuously in his head. The whole experience had left him feeling disturbed and unhappy, but it took him a lot of thinking to figure out why. He knew it had to do with the whole Johnson attitude about spankings and the way Mrs. Johnson treated her daughter. Considering how many times Emily must have been beaten by her mother as she grew up, Doug suspected that he couldn’t really comprehend the many ways she’d been affected by such continuous violence. Perhaps it was only natural that Emily should at times obsess about spankings. He decided he wouldn’t try to judge her, as he’d been tempted to do before. But there were still so many unanswered questions. For instance, why was she turned on by it? How had she sexualized her painful experiences? At times, such as last week, she seemed downright sadistic. Is that what excessive spanking does to a kid? Doug wondered. He could easily imagine Mrs. Johnson being abusive, despite her facade of “caring” about a child’s well-being. Was this an example of passing down abusive behavior from one generation to the next? How would Emily treat her children? And how would she have treated him? What had she been looking for with him? A playmate for S&M games? A baby to abuse? Someone with whom to share the pain of her upbringing? They had already shared many strange experiences; what might they have shared if things had happened differently? It was sad, really: it had only been today that Doug had realized what similar situations they were in, and suddenly, before he could explore the possibilities or answer any of the questions, Emily was snatched away. He didn’t know where she lived or went to school, how old she was, or how she felt about any of this, including him. She didn’t know anything about him, either. Their only link was through Mrs. Johnson, who obviously wasn’t going to help get them together. So Doug doubted that he’d ever find answers to his questions, or even see Emily again. What a rare opportunity she had been. How sad to have lost her. Chapter 12 After he’d been in diapers for two months, Doug hardly noticed them anymore, and, in fact, was mostly unaware of using them as well. They were so thick and absorbent that he couldn’t feel when he was wet; instead he had to look at the indicator stripe. Because this would have been awkward at work, he had begun changing himself with such regularity as to avoid the possibility of leaking. This method also had the effect of making how much and when he actually wet his diaper nearly irrelevant. And this eventually led to Doug’s paying less and less attention to the event, so that soon he didn’t even notice when he did it. BMs, on the other hand, were different. He usually felt them coming, and sometimes stood up or squatted to facilitate their passage. And though he hardly noticed that neither wetting nor messing required his attention anymore, this would have been fine with him. In his view, as long as he had to wear diapers, he might as well enjoy the freedom they gave him. Since control of his bladder and bowels didn’t help him at all right now and would now simply be a nuisance, he never even tried any more. It’s interesting that Doug never considered the implications of this; if he ever noticed that he wasn’t controlling himself these days, it didn’t bother him. He assumed it was like riding a bike, in that if it ever mattered again, he could do it on command. And currently, there were no such demands. Besides, the time for worrying about such things was still months ahead. The last two weeks, since he’d last seen Emily, had been pretty easy, if a little boring. But in this situation, where excitement usually meant punishment, he’d gladly take boring. He’d had no trouble with Mrs. Warren, uneventful grocery shopping trips, and an easy time at work. He’d been a good boy, of course, (except for his weekly indiscretion of sexual release) so the lack of punishment should have been no surprise. But with someone as strict as Mrs. Warren, he could never tell. He certainly hadn’t seen that bowel encouragement thing coming either. Being a good boy now meant wearing his new pink sleepers nightly, and although this was, of course, grating to him, if that was all it took to make Mrs. Warren happy, then so be it. It was a small price to pay. As luck would have it, however, Doug’s life was just about to get much less pleasant today. He came home from the lab this afternoon a little later than usual, and was mildly alarmed to see Mrs. Warren’s diaper van parked outside. Knowing that he’d done nothing out of the ordinary wrong, he curiously entered his apartment to find her seated at the dining room table, reading a magazine. “Hi,” he said, putting his diaper bag down on a table. “You’re late,” she commented cheerlessly. “Yeah, missed my bus,” he said, sensing something was wrong. “What’s, um, going on?” “We need to talk,” she said, putting her magazine away. “Okay,” he said cautiously, sitting down on the sofa nearest the dining area. “No,” she said, patting her lap crisply. “I need you over my knee for this talk.” Doug’s heart pounded. He was suddenly tense. “Why?” he asked. “Come on over first,” she said. “Then we’ll talk.” He looked down and shook his head in frustration. What had he done wrong this time? “But why?” She glared at him. “I want you OVER MY KNEE. Now. OR ELSE.” He half snorted. “What could be worse than this?” “You don’t want to know. NOW.” Doug’s eyes teared up slightly as he stood up and slowly waddled over. He stared at the floor, mad and confused. Things had been going so well. When he stood in front of her, she said, “Pants down first.” Slowly he undid his belt and pants and dropped them to the floor, leaving him with just his diaper, which happened to be half-wet. “Your diaper clean?” she asked, turning her chair away from the table to face him. He looked. “A little wet,” he murmured in reply, resigned now to his fate. But why? he wondered. “That’s okay,” she said, and lifted her arms so he could lay on her lap, which he did gingerly. She lifted him off the floor with her knees, rendering him helpless, and told him to grab the chair legs to keep his hands out of the way. “Now,” she said. “We can talk. Tell me about the toilet paper.” “What?” Doug asked, hoping to God she didn’t mean what he thought she meant. An answer to his question came in the form of his tapes being undone and the rear of his diaper being pulled down to reveal his damp, powdered buttocks. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! He gasped with each spank, trying not to cry already. “I said, tell me about the toilet paper. Where did you get it? How’d you get it home?” He realized that he had, in fact, been nailed. Somehow she knew, and she had him in the perfect position to extract whatever information she wanted. He could see himself getting into even worse trouble if he tried to stall or lie. He knew he didn’t have much of a choice: anything was better than a spanking. So he caved in. Damage control. “I…I got it from work. I snuck it home in my shoes,” he sniffed. “In your shoes?” He hated to give this away. “In my toes. I was going to tell you it was so my shoes would fit.” “Aren’t you smart. And where did you hide them here at home, until you used them?” He paused. If he’d been given any time at all to prepare for this inquisition, he could have made something up to protect his precious system. But he couldn’t make stuff up while he lay, so vulnerably, in this position. Another spank fell on his bottom before he nearly yelled, “In the bottom of a cereal box.” The spanks ceased. Telling the truth may be bad in the long run, he thought, but it’s certainly better in the short-term. “And what, young man, did you use the toilet paper for? Don’t lie to me…” Mrs. Warren warned, rubbing his already-red buttocks with her hand. “For…for, um, you know,” he whined. “I couldn’t help it. I had to. It’s too hard not to.” He started crying softly. His life sucked. “I know,” she said, soothingly continuing to rub his bottom. It felt nice. “It’s hard, isn’t it? But say the words. What did you do?” “I…played with myself,” he confessed, once again humiliated by her. When she didn’t say anything, he kept going. Might as well. “Then…I stuffed the toilet paper into an old Coke can and put it in the trash so you wouldn’t find it.” He stopped crying, waiting to see what she’d say. She didn’t seem mad. She wasn’t mad, in fact; she was, rather, feeling triumphant. She’d known for quite a while that Doug had to be engaging in some sort of illicit masturbatory behavior, but it had taken more than two weeks to find the evidence. She’d seen lots of intricate plans, from every single one of her babies, so she’d known he’d have one and that it was her job to find it. The discovery of the Coke can had been the result of long, hard work on the part of herself and her several inspectors. It was a tedious, dirty process, but critical to the long-term success of her programs. Her boys had to be kept sexually frustrated so that they’d break the rules and need to be punished. Otherwise they could come close to “graduating.” Her babies could be as good as they wanted, but none could abstain totally from sexual gratification, not when they were taped into the object of their desire. But she still didn’t know the rest of the plan, or the details of how many times Doug had gotten away with this. Luckily, that didn’t matter. She’d bluff. “But I did find it, didn’t I?” she asked him, as if he were a toddler. “I always know, Doug, always.” He was beginning to believe her. He couldn’t get away with anything. She was too smart. He’d never try anything again. Ever. “Now tell me, young man, how many times you touched yourself and ejaculated. I already know, because I counted. But I want to see if I need to punish you for lying to me as well.” Doug was trapped. He had no way of knowing what she knew and what she didn’t know. But if history were any guide, then she probably knew. And while she didn’t seem mad now, he bet that if he lied to her and she knew, she’d be very angry. Then he’d get a spanking for sure. So he told the truth. “Four times,” he said, after counting. “But that’s all. And really, I just couldn’t help it!” “I know, I know,” she cooed to him, watching him squirm on her lap. “That’s a good little boy for telling Mommy. And don’t worry. We’ll help you with that little problem. But first tell me: were you a good boy or a naughty boy for touching yourself there?” Doug stared at the floor. She was heading toward something. He’d been in this ICP long enough to know that. But where? He had to play her little degrading game before he found out. He hated it. “Naughty, Mommy.” She kept rubbing his bottom tenderly. “Yes,” she agreed. “Only big boys who don’t have accidents and who wear big boy underpants get to touch themselves like that. You’re just a little baby who wears diapers. You’re only allowed to use your pee-pee for making Number One. You’re not allowed to touch it for any other reason. That’s right, isn’t it?” “Yes, Mommy,” Doug conceded. “And what happens to naughty boys?” “They get punished,” he said, knowing that was what he had to say. “Right,” she said. "In fact, you clearly need a spanking. “And we’ll give you that spanking in just a minute. But first, you need to make a choice about what kind of punishment you’ll get after that. I’ve found that if you help decide how you’ll be punished, you learn better from it afterward. So pay attention while I give you your choices.” Doug groaned inwardly. "Since you were naughty four different times, we’ll use a “four” theme in your punishment. You have a choice of getting one spanking a day for four days, or of wearing a chastity device for four weeks. The first choice will ideally make you question whether the few seconds of pleasure you had was worth the many days of pain you’ll experience. You know that you can feel the effects from one of my spankings for several days. Just imagine what it must feel like to get one every day for most of a week. It’s designed to make you think about what you’ve done for a long time.” That sounded horrible to Doug. “The second option is the more responsible one, in my opinion. It attacks the problem at its root and prevents it from happening again. So, you get to decide now. Four days, or four weeks?” Doug was silent. Upside down on Mrs. Warren’s lap, he was extremely tempted to choose anything that didn’t involve spankings. He’d already learned to avoid those at all cost. Yet the idea of spending four weeks without an opportunity to release some of the sexual excitement caused by diapers and his relative celibacy was inhumane. He’d die, he knew. At least with the spankings he’d get the whole thing over with and could figure out a new plan. With any luck he could be “active” again inside the week. “Work on his problem.” Hah! His only problem was her. So as much as he hated to walk right into getting a spanking (or four!) he knew he couldn’t face up to the other choice. “I think I’ll go with the spankings,” he told the floor at which he was staring. Mrs. Warren had continued to rub his bottom, but now she suddenly stopped. “Doug, I’m disappointed in you,” Mrs. Warren said coldly. “That choice was a test to see if you were mature enough to take your sick little problem seriously. I offered you an easy way, without punishment after today, of getting a jump on addressing your problem, but rather than confront your dirty habit, you decided to choose unbearable pain. Do you know how pathetic that is?” She snorted derisively. “Well, if you want pain, I’ll give you all the pain you can handle, and probably more. You’ll get all those spankings. But if you won’t face your problem, then as your Mommy it’s my responsibility to help you face it, whether you want to or not. So in addition to your precious spankings, you’ll wear the chastity device for a month anyway.” Doug gasped. That was inhuman. Given the choice of two horrible punishments, he’d chosen, only to be given both. It was too much. He screamed and kicked, trying to push himself off her knees. “Nooooo!” he yelled. She somehow elevated her knees so he couldn’t manage to touch anything, and gave his rear end a dozen hard swats with her strong, bare hand. He was soon reduced to tears. “You’ve now earned yourself six full weeks in the chastity device. Care to go for two months? Three months? There’s no limit. Or perhaps you’d like a week’s worth of spankings. That can easily be arranged as well. Would you like to shoot for that? Or are you grateful with the punishment you’ve been given?” He was crying hard now, from the pain, from the realization of how horrible his life would be for the next months, and from the utter futility of his situation. He was so completely powerless. “Are you?” she was demanding. “Are you happy with your punishment?” “Yes,” he choked. “Yes, Mommy. Please.” “Good boy. Okay, we’ll keep it at that for now. But that could change, depending on your behavior, especially if I think you’re not grateful for my help in this matter. Tomorrow we’ll start with the first of your four spankings, and in a minute I’ll help you into your chastity device, but first I promised you a spanking today. And I hate to disappoint.” At this Doug cried harder than ever, even before she began striking his bottom. He’d forgotten about this spanking during the talk about the other punishments. He was pretty much in pieces during the whole thing. She interspersed her blows with questions like whether touching himself had been worth it, and if he still wanted to touch himself now. But he hardly heard her. He was bawling insensibly when she finished and dumped him on the floor with his half-wet diaper still between his legs. He just sat on the floor, crying and rubbing one cheek at a time while Mrs. Warren wasn’t watching. She was rummaging through her purse for something. He almost wasn’t aware of what was happening when she came to him and gently pushed him to the floor on his back. He didn’t care. He just laid back obediently and kept crying. She took what she had brought with her and unlocked something. She made him spread his legs, and she smoothed out his diaper underneath him. The device was a short, curved sheath, shaped like a cylinder with both ends open, but tapered sharply at the far end. She easily slid it over Doug’s flaccid penis, and tightened a small screw near the base so that it fit snugly, then secured it with a small but sturdy lock. She then took two other straps and ran them around his thighs, securing them also to the base of the sheath with another lock. Finally, one last strap ran around his waist and secured the sheath from above. Thus, the sheath was fastened to his genitalia and could not be removed from any direction. She once again checked the straps, and then inspected the sheath, where she saw that Doug’s penis still had a quarter inch or so to `breathe’ at the end. "Doug, pay attention. Let me explain to you how this device works. There is a sheath around your pee-pee. It feels soft on the inside, because there is a nice waterproof gel there that ought to be very comfortable when you pee-pee is this size. But notice that the sheath isn’t very long, it’s curved, and it gets skinny at the end. If your pee-pee should for any reason get any bigger, it will be forced to curve around, and push against the skinny wall at the end. This shape simply won’t accomodate an erection of any size at all. You will also discover that, beneath the nice soft gel, are hidden tiny prickly-feeling spikes. They don’t hurt you now, but if the fit gets any tighter, I have reliable sources tell me that it becomes very painful. "These features will effectively dissuade you from trying to get an erection. And if you do manage even a small one, it will be more painful than it is pleasurable. This is called classical conditioning, and you don’t need to know that much about it. Just know that the pain you feel will convince you that erections are bad, painful things. My experience tells me that this association will persist even after we take the device off, if we decide to do that. So this is why this device is such an effective treatment for your problem. “Just for fun, to make sure that the conditioning is reinforced often, I had the thigh straps put on. They tug at the sheath and its contents whenever you walk or move. The gel is apparently so comfortable that many of my babies have had trouble with becoming aroused whenever they walk. This, of course, leads to pain, which reinforces the lesson that genital stimulation is bad. It is a lesson you will learn well in the next six weeks.” She smiled at Doug, who was now sitting up and staring at this contraption which encased his groin. He was amazed. He didn’t think this type of thing existed. Of course, he had been naive about a lot of things before Mrs. Warren had come into his life. Mrs. Warren shook her head. She could never get over her admiration for whoever had designed this little beast. It was perfect. She just wished she had more of them to go around. She pulled up Doug’s diaper between his legs and taped it tightly. “You don’t have to worry about chafing. Just use lots of powder and lotion under the straps when you can. I will let you out every few days to clean and powder your penis for a moment and put lotion on it if you want. Otherwise, the device is totally waterproof, which means you don’t have to worry about peeing in it, showering in it, etc. It’s darn near indestructible.” She stood and walked over to her purse. “And the best part it, you don’t have to take it off to give a spanking.” She put her black purse over her shoulder, and turned toward the door. Then she turned back. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’ve decided you clearly need better reminders of how old you are, since you were playing with yourself like a big boy. So we’ll go back to the bibs and bottles. I’ve removed all of your glasses, so you need to do all of your drinking from your bottles now. And bibs at every meal. Okay? Okay. Goodbye, Doug. I’ll see you tomorrow night for your “first” spanking. Until then, be good.” Mrs. Warren laughed and winked as she left. Doug sat in his diaper on the floor and stared at the door long after she’d left. Doug’s next week, simply put, was hell. For five days he received an unforgettable series of spankings that left him sore for nearly two weeks afterward. And things didn’t really get better after that. Mrs. Warren’s chastity device, unfortunately, turned out to be everything she’d said it was, and more. Early and exhaustive experimentation early on proved it to be inescapable. He was definitely stuck in it for the duration. The sheath itself wasn’t really uncomfortable, as long as Doug’s penis was flaccid. It fit well, and there was very little chafing. But he soon grew to hate the straps that ran around each of his thighs and attached to the sheath. With every step, they tugged the sheath from side to side, gently massaging Doug’s penis against the smooth gel of the sheath. In his deprived, excitable state (which only worsened, of course, as time went on), it led quickly and efficiently to the beginnings of an erection, which was just as quickly and efficiently terminated by what felt like a thousand needles digging into his penis. He had no idea how it worked, what was under the gel, or why it never seemed to draw blood. But it was undeniably present, and excruciatingly painful. It happened nearly every time he walked, and when the pain hit, he’d literally double over and have to fight a yelp of distress. After the better part of a minute, the venous congestion would disperse, and the pain would abate; he would straighten up and walk for another few steps until it happened again. And so, yes, he began to hate and fear these mini-erections, despite his knowledge that it was not erections per se that were painful, that he was only being made to feel this way by Mrs. Warren. But what could he do? With every step he took, the association of sexual stimulation and intense pain was etched more and more clearly into his consciousness. And he indeed found himself swearing to himself that he’d never have another erection again, if only the pain would end. He made such oaths despite the fact that he knew he wouldn’t be able to follow up on them later. He knew his resolve wasn’t that strong, that he’d eventually have to give in to his desires and masturbate again. But those straps hurt him. In addition to the torment caused by the chastity device, he also had to deal with the ongoing humiliation of having to drink from a baby bottle, even at work. He was forced to bring a bottle from home, hide it under his desk, and surreptitiously suck on it when he was thirsty or at lunch. He constantly lived in fear of being discovered by coworkers, or worse, his boss, the lab’s director. A week into this punishment, he was surprised to notice that the mug he kept at his desk had disappeared at some point. He didn’t know who had taken it, or when it had been taken, but he had to assume that Mrs. Warren, or her informant, was responsible. He didn’t say a word about it, of course; what could he say? He had to use bottles at home as well, and since he found it impossible to drink anything quickly out of it, he usually ended up sucking on a bottle more or less constantly when he was at home just to satisfy his thirst. And since he had to wear one of his bibs whenever he ate or drank anything, Doug found himself wearing a bib, and drinking from his bottle, nearly the entire time he was at home. These little humiliations added up. Doug never felt more degraded than when he finished a bottle, removed his bib, changed his wet or messy diaper, and put on his pink sleeper for bed. He practiced this sequence nightly, however, without cutting corners. He knew from experience what happened when he tried to break rules. As Doug tried to deal with all of this, the last thing he thought of was his continence (or lack thereof), which was, of course, part of the point. In fact, in the midst of all these other hassles, he was beginning to forget to be upset about having to wear diapers. They were edging their way into his concept of what was “normal” for him these days; if he just had to wear his diapers, and didn’t have to worry about all the other nonsense, he wouldn’t have complained at all. It was near the end of his third month in diapers that he woke up for the first time in a wet diaper. The first time, he wasn’t really sure if he’d done it in his sleep or if he’d awakened and wet it semi-consciously, but as time went on and he woke up wet more and more often, he began to suspect the truth. It was a sign of how much his perspective had changed that he didn’t regard this development with alarm. But Doug was necessarily becoming very good at rationalization, and he reasoned that this was simply a temporary condition brought on by the constant usage of diapers during the daytime, and would surely resolve, along with everything else, as soon as he resumed his normal life in another couple of months. And for now, what was the harm? Like his other unconscious diaper-usage, it actually made things more convenient, since he didn’t have to wake up to take care of things in the middle of the night. His diaper and stuffer were certainly thick enough to handle the overnight load, and so Doug decided that the end result would simply be a better night of sleep. Three weeks into Doug’s enforced chastity punishment, he decided to try to make a bargain with Mrs. Warren. After spending several days mustering the necessary courage, Doug asked her if she might agree to take the thigh straps off if he wore the rest of the device an extra two weeks. Mrs. Warren was delighted by this offer, seeing it as “progress” by Doug, and agreed immediately, since she didn’t currently have another client who would be needing the device before Doug would be done with it. For Doug it was a victory of sorts. Since he was already swearing not to have an orgasm afterward, lengthening the punishment didn’t deprive him of anything, and he rid himself of the most heinous part of the punishment. And he was kind of happy: for the first time since he could remember, he had exerted a little control over his strange life. At the end of the two months, in February, the sheath came off completely, and Doug was happy to return to his “normal” life. He was disappointed when Mrs. Warren said he still had to use the bib and the bottles, but he wasn’t going to argue. He forced himself to be grateful for what he could get; the bibs and bottles were starting to seem less horrible now, anyway. They certainly weren’t worth fighting over. By the time his punishment was over, Doug ended up feeling ready to try to keep his promise not to masturbate. When he had first been locked into it, he had focused on more rebellion, and spent many hours trying to dream up new plans for clandestine masturbation. He had thought of something that would probably work; it revolved around masturbating out the back door of his apartment at night in the grass, a plan that would have seemed utterly bizarre and obscene to him several months earlier. But he was now in desperate straits, and he’d thought he wouldn’t be able to wait until he got out to try it. As time wore on, however, and he began, against his will, to resent his erections, he’d slowly decided to shift his post-punishment strategy to one of lying low. After all, he’d lasted two months without an orgasm; surely he should just wait two more and be done with this whole ordeal. The two remaining months would pass much faster if he were not being actively punished for something; he ought to be good, get out, and then recover his life. Abstinence seemed a small price to pay to expedite his freedom, even in the face of a diaper fetish, which, although less obvious these days, must still be hiding there underneath it all. It was indeed the ultimate sacrifice, but it was still worth it if it helped him bear his ICP better. Doug realized that he was two-thirds of the way through his ICP, and he started thinking more and more about the future, specifically what would happen after this diaper torture was over. His interview for the graduate program had, as expected, gone well, and his boss, the lab director, had essentially assured him that the rest of the application process was a formality, and that for all intents and purposes he could plan on entering the program in August. Doug was overjoyed at this, for he’d structured this entire year around this very opportunity. It appeared that his work had paid off, and that despite the strange twist his life had briefly taken, his overall goals were still in sight, and if he could just live through the last two months of this thing, his dream life was waiting for him. He looked forward to having to decide between the equally enticing prospects of a high-salaried private sector position and a juicy teaching job at a top university somewhere. Either way, it looked like his future would be well-paved. Chapter 13 Things were proceeding as planned until, a week after getting out of that prickly penile prison, Doug awoke suddenly in the middle of the night to feel the cold February breeze blowing on his face. He was abruptly jarred to alertness, and he sat up and stared around, feeling that something wasn’t quite right. He saw immediately that his second story window was open. A chill passed through him: he’d closed it before waddling into bed wearing his pink sleeper over his diaper. So who had opened it, and where were they now? He glanced around the room and slowly became aware of the fact that there was actually someone else in bed with him. He could just make out the shape of someone under the sheet, and up near the pillow, a shock of blond hair stuck out above the top of the sheet… Doug caught his breath. This was unreal. He reached over and quietly turned on his bedside lamp, which might not be enough to wake the person next to him. But Doug saw motion under the blanket, and then a hand snaked its way up and out next to the hair, pulling down the sheet to reveal… Emily. Not quite awake yet, stirring restlessly, and frowning a little at the light being on. Emily in his bed. A million questions flooded Doug’s consciousness, all crowding in on him at once. How had she found him? How had she gotten through the window? Why was she here? And, most pressing, what should he do? He’d often thought of her in the past two months, wondering where she was, what she was doing, if he’d ever see her again. Now she was here. For whatever reason, she was here. He let his eyes sweep over the form of her body under the sheet next to him, and from the way the bedclothes lay Doug began to suspect that she was unclothed. Oh, boy. This is too much, he thought. Predictably, Doug felt an erection begin to form. He’d wanted to be good, but surely this was too much of an opportunity to pass up. His hand made its way down to his crotch, and he unconsciously tried to rub himself through his sleeper and diaper. The motion disturbed the already-restless sleeper beside him, and Emily’s eyes fluttered open, squinting at the lamp’s light. “Baby boy,” she murmured. “Are you awake?” “Um, yes,” he said, trying to stay as calm as possible in this odd situation. What should he say to this goddess who had hunted him down and snuck into his bed while he was sleeping? “Uh, Emily?” “Mm-hmmm,” she hummed sleepily. “What are you doing here?” he asked instinctively, and immediately regretted it. She roused herself and looked at him more clearly. “Why, don’t you want me here?” she asked, pouting slightly. “Oh, yes, well, I mean, of course, I do, but,” he sputtered. Didn’t she think this situation was odd? “Shhhh,” she said, putting a finger to his lips. “Don’t get all upset. I thought a surprise visit might be kind of fun. You know what I mean?” she asked, looking up at him. Doug’s throat was completely dry by now. He wanted to speak but couldn’t, and, indeed, couldn’t think of anything appropriate anyway. He knew exactly what she meant, and it was long overdue. He’d spent a lot of time fantasizing about Emily, and had come to realize that if he ever got a chance with her again, he’d take it. He just hadn’t expected that chance to happen like this. He could feel the heat and tension inside his diaper. And this time the erection didn’t hurt. Emily put her hand up to Doug’s chest, running her fingers across the fuzzy pink fabric he wore. “Pretty jammies,” she whispered, smiling. “Did you pick them out yourself?” Doug blushed. “No,” he croaked with embarrassment. “But I have to wear them.” “I think they’re very cute,” Emily told him. “And they’re perfect for you.” Doug blushed again. He must really look stupid in this outfit. How degrading to have Emily see him in it. “But it looks hard to get out of,” she said, her brow furrowed with concern. Doug shook his head. “No, it’s not too bad. There’re snaps all down the front and through here,” he said, indicating his crotch. “So I can…” he broke off, embarrassed at what he’d almost said. “So you can change your diaper?” Emily whispered seductively. “Is that what snaps are for?” Doug nodded and swallowed hard. He was surprised his diaper hadn’t been ripped off by the force of the erection he had right now. “Good,” she replied. “I’m so glad those snaps are there. It will make what happens next a lot easier.” Doug stared at her. He’d heard her, but somehow he didn’t think she was referring to a diaper change. “What happens next?” he asked softly, though he already knew. “Something I’ve been waiting for for a long time,” she answered, smiling. “Something that should have happened long before now.” And she began to sit up, the sheet falling to her the bed, her beautiful breasts emerging to Doug’s view. And he stared. He had never seen such perfection. He had imagined how they’d look, but in his dreams he’d never even conceived of a sight so beautiful. But he didn’t have time to stare. Emily was pushing him back, down to his pillow. In a strong, graceful motion she lifted a foot and climbed on top of him. Doug was paralyzed by the sight of her astride him. She smiled at him as her hands made their way down to his waist and below, finding and pulling apart the snaps at his crotch. She managed to pull his feet out of the sleeper and pull the bottom half of it up above his waist, so that he still wore the top of it, but all that remained below was his diaper. She smiled even more at the sight of it. “Oh, you’re a good boy at home, too, aren’t you?” she asked in a babyish tone. “Well, not tonight, you’re not,” she said as she pulled off the diaper’s tapes. “Tonight, neither of our mommies is around.” She pulled his diaper back, tucking it between his legs behind her. She let her fingers explore their way along Doug’s powdered thighs, across his abdomen, until they worked their way toward their hairless, throbbing target. “Oooh, you’ve missed me,” she said softly. “Just lie back and relax tonight, Doug. There’s nothing you can do about it this time. You know as well as I do that this was meant to be, and I won’t let you off the hook this time.” Her fingers tickled his penis, his tortured and denied penis, and it responded. Doug started breathing heavily, closing his eyes, and concentrating on the forbidden sensations he had been denied for so long. Screw Mrs. Warren, he thought. I’m not a baby; I’m a man, and this is what I’m meant to do. Not even that chastity belt could stop this from happening. Emily sensed his growing excitement, and withdrew her hand in an attempt to draw things out a bit. She leaned over him and placed a breast in his lips. “Why don’t you enjoy that for a while?” she asked. “That’s better than that old bottle you have, isn’t it?” Doug was a little embarrassed by this, but he didn’t care. It did, in fact, feel very nice to suck on a real breast for a change, even if nothing came out. He didn’t ask himself how Emily knew about the bottle. He was concentrating on Emily’s responsive moans, sucking more as he heard her grow more excited. Soon Emily, too, was panting, and with a slow, determined motion, she lifted herself with her strong thighs and guided Doug’s penis into her, and, smiling, said, “This is what you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?” Doug opened his eyes and nodded happily, and then closed them again to savor the sensation. It was exactly what he had wanted, and he wasn’t thinking of anything else right now, not the ethics of what was happening, not how Emily possibly could have gotten his address, not what would happen when Mrs. Warren found out. It felt perfect, like he’d been born and lived his entire life just for this one moment. Heaven. He felt Emily rise and fall on him, and together they moved, the excitement building and building. The climactic moment was well-timed, and the bliss lasted several seconds, until Emily fell, exhausted, off of him, onto the bed beside him. Doug just lay there, thanking God for such a moment in the middle of the rest of his misery. Suddenly his eyes snapped open. Had he fallen asleep? He looked around. Emily was gone. The window, wide open before, was now shut and locked. The light was out; it was still nighttime. His hands felt down his body. He was wearing his diaper and his sleeper was back on. Had Emily rediapered and redressed him in his sleep? Why had she left? Why hadn’t he awakened? He nearly started crying when he began to realize that, of course, Emily could never have been here with him. The most perfect moment he’d ever lived had been a dream. A huge wave of disappointment swept over him as he acknowledged that his own life wasn’t nearly so perfect. He should have known. As if Emily would want him, he thought. Look at me, in my pink, babyish sleeper, in my diaper. In my wet diaper, he noted ruefully. Well, as long as I’m up, he thought, I may as well change myself. He turned the light on, unsnapped his sleeper, untaped his diaper and pulled it down between his legs, as Emily had done in his dream. He glanced down at it as he sat up and prepared to get out of bed to get a clean diaper, and he noticed something interesting. His diaper wasn’t all yellow like it usually was after wetting at night. Yet it had felt wet. He looked closer: there was something in his diaper, but it was clearly not urine. Panic set in when Doug realized what had happened. He’d never had a wet dream before, but it wasn’t a difficult conclusion to draw. A perfect dream, the wet diaper. Wow. This is something that’s never happened to me before, but I’m sure I know what it is. A wet dream. And if it was that, then it was great. I’ve really been missing something all this time. But how could he possibly explain this to Mrs. Warren? He couldn’t just throw the diaper away; he had to turn it in, and she’d surely discover his evidence. And then he knew exactly what would happen; his bottom tingled just thinking about it. A horrific spanking followed by the chastity device, and the thigh straps… But it wasn’t fair. He couldn’t have avoided this. He’d been very good, for the very reason that he’d wanted to avoid facing punishment like this. And his mind had been good. It was his body that had betrayed him. How could he possibly have prevented this? He didn’t know what to think about his body any more: wetting at night, wet dreams, what was next? Doug finished changing himself, and then, frustrated and confused, he ended up crying himself back to sleep for the night. When he awoke the next morning, he decided that among the bad options he had, the best was actually to call Mrs. Warren and tell her exactly what had happened, before she found out on her own and was mad at him for trying to lie, too. He imagined that this was what she’d want him to do anyway, so it would probably help to mitigate his punishment. “Yes?” he heard her answer when he phoned her cellular phone an hour later. He’d caught her in between clients. “Um, hi, Mommy, this is Doug calling,” he started. It was a Saturday morning, and he had no plans for the day. He’d figured he ought to keep himself fairly flexible; you never know with Mrs. Warren. “Yes, Doug? How’s my little boy doing this morning?” “Well, okay, I guess, but I need to tell you something embarrassing, and I hope you won’t be mad at me.” Mrs. Warren thought for a moment. Doug was far enough along in his ICP that he wouldn’t be phased at all by what most normal people would call “embarrassing,” so this must be pretty interesting, especially to make Doug call her so early in the day. “Well, Doug, I can’t tell whether or not I need to be mad until you tell me. What’s going on?” Doug paused. How should he say it? “I had a…little accident in my sleep last night,” he said quietly. Accident? She knew he’d begun wetting in his sleep, an excellent sign. But that was old news by now. What could this be? A messy overnight diaper? It was a little early for that, though Doug had made better progress than most. More likely, it was the third kind of accident. “What kind of accident, Doug?” Another pause. Despite all the humiliation he’d experienced so far at Mrs. Warren’s hand, he still was not comfortable talking about these things with her. Especially if a spanking, or worse, was likely afterward. “Well, I’ve been very good, you know, not touching myself at all. Very good. I promise. But last night, I don’t know what happened. I think I must have had one of those dreams.” “One of what dreams, Doug?” Mrs. Warren asked, already knowing the answer. This was a wonderful development. If he was trying to be good, but his body ended up having periodic nocturnal emissions anyway, then Doug was essentially signed up for life with her. She didn’t have to worry about whether or not he was good. She’d be regularly supplied with reasons to keep him on probation indefinitely. “I think it’s called a, um, wet dream,” he answered, blushing. “A what?” “You know, a wet dream. I went to sleep, and when I woke up I had, you know, that sticky sperm stuff in my diaper. Only I didn’t ever touch myself. I was asleep.” Mrs. Warren sighed audibly into the phone. “Okay, Doug,” she said. “It sounds like I need to come see you today. I should be able to squeeze you in in an hour or so. Meanwhile, keep that diaper out for me. I want to see it when I get there.” “Yes, Mommy,” Doug said nervously, and they hung up. She was coming over. This was probably a bad sign. And this time, he’d walked right into it. But he remained hopeful that his willingness to confess would be taken into consideration. On the other hand, would she even believe his story? When she arrived, she took him upstairs and made him show her the diaper. With great embarrassment, he pointed to the semen-stained disposable he’d laid out on his bed. She peered closely at the evidence and clucked loudly at him. “Doug, this is so disappointing. I thought you were being such a good baby for me.” “I am, Mommy,” he protested. “I’m trying. You have to believe me. This has never happened to me before, and I’m upset about it, too. I know I’m not supposed to touch myself.” She smiled at him, obviously earnest in his desire to please her. He’d certainly come a long way in several months. He didn’t even flinch now when he called her “Mommy.” And she knew he was telling the truth. “I believe you, Doug, and I think that you really do want to be good. Up in your head you’ve learned what’s right and wrong. The problem is,” she said, shaking her head with the appropriate amount of sadness showing in her face, “that the rest of your body still hasn’t learned. No matter how good you’ve been, I certainly can’t have my babies ejaculating, can I?” “No, Mommy,” Doug agreed. “So I need to punish you, to help teach your body what’s right and wrong. And like last time, I’ll give you a choice. I can either give you a spanking today, and then let you wear the chastity device for a week to help your problem, or I can just let you wear the device for three weeks, without a spanking. Which would you rather have?” Doug swallowed hard. Much as he disliked the chastity device, he’d learned his lesson from the last choice he’d made. He knew what she wanted. “I’d like the chastity device for three weeks, please, Mommy,” he said meekly. “Good boy,” Mrs. Warren said approvingly. He certainly remembered lessons. “And because you’ve been so honest with me, I’ll only make you wear the thigh straps for the first week, if you’re a good boy. How does that sound?” Better than a spanking, he thought. “But if this happens again, Doug, I may need to start spanking you as well, to help your body learn better. And this time, and every time in the future, I’m afraid I’ll need to extend your probation period another three months.” This way, she could continue to give him the occasional spanking, for fun, and be sure to keep him around forever. Whatever, Doug thought. I’m out of this program in seven weeks. You can keep me on probation as long as you want. It won’t affect me after I’m out! “Yes, Mommy.” And so began Doug's second period of enforced celibacy, which he found, to his disappointment, no easier than the first. But the time passed, and if it got him closer to getting out of this damned program, then it was worth being good and playing along. The next week Doug noticed that the diapers delivered by Mrs.Warren were in a different package. They still said “BRIEFS, LARGE; ADULT DIAPERS'' on them, but in big letters next to this were the words, “NEW; MORE ABSORBENT.” He also noted that he didn’t receive any stuffer pads to go in them. Mrs. Warren saw his confusion. “Mrs. Sheffield has redesigned your diapers so that they are thicker and more absorbent. Apparently she received enough suggestions about this from our clients that she thought it would be worthwhile adjusting the product line.” She smiled at him, knowing full well that Doug himself had asked for a diaper like this before he’d known he’d be forced to wear it. “They are now thick enough that you don’t need to use pads in them any longer. You ought to be very thankful that she cares that much for your comfort. I’d like to see a thank-you note for her by tomorrow from you, expressing your appreciation for her help in your incontinence control. I’ll pick it up and deliver it myself. She’s a wonderful woman, you know,” she said. Wonderfully naive and overly trusting, she didn’t say. Mrs. Warren was thrilled about the new diapers, since they were much more similar to the prototype worn by real babies, and this made them all that much more effective in belittling her clients. They were so good that she briefly considered switching all of her baby boys to them, even those in cloth diapers. But she also knew that fetishists were extremely particular with their desires, and she wanted every boy to be stimulated maximally by the diaper he wore. The benefits reaped from such an arrangement far outweighed the convenience brought by putting everyone in these nice disposables. Doug listened and grimaced slightly, recognizing the irony in the situation. Months ago, when he’d asked for it, he would have appreciated such a product, since it played into his infantile fantasies so well. But now that it was no longer a fantasy, he couldn’t really enjoy what was clearly the perfect adult diaper for fetishists. He wondered briefly if other AB’s would at least get to enjoy this product, at his expense. He ended up liking the change, though, since the new diapers were simpler and a better product. And they weren’t any more noticeable than wearing a pad under a regular adult diaper. The time spent in the chastity device slowly passed, and when he emerged for the second time, in late March, he began to think about the future. With only a couple of weeks remaining until he got out of the program in late April, he started dreaming about his soon-to-be-normal-again life. He had recently learned that he had indeed been accepted into the grad program, and would therefore spend around six or seven years here working on a masters and doctoral degree. Spring was just starting to add leaves to the trees and flowers to the gardens. He would soon be allowed to visit a doctor and get out of this ridiculous program. All in all, things were definitely looking up. Okay, he thought to himself, it’s technically not quite a “lock” that I’ll get out. But if the doctor isn’t directly employed by TIC or The Drugstore, then he’s *got" to recognize that it would be absurd to call me incontinent. Before all this started, I hadn’t had any accidents since I was three years old. I’ve never had any trouble with incontinence. And I look young and healthy. Only an idiot would look at me and agree with Mrs. Warren. It’s finally time to inject a reasonable opinion into the decisions about my life. So Doug asked Mrs. Warren for the list of doctors recommended by TIC to judge his continence. The list included eight physicians in the area, and since Doug knew they couldn’t all be “fixed” and under Mrs. Warren’s control, he felt comfortable with it. He immediately set about deciding who he would go see; it was an important decision. Two were women, and instinctively he crossed them off the list. He’d been embarrassed too often over these last few months to trust a woman with this decision. With his luck she would think he looked cute in diapers and would want to keep him that way. No, he’d pick a male, who would be rational and concrete and impartial. After some deliberation he chose Dr. Bruce Mitchell, who ran a generalist practice just outside of town. He’d heard other lab workers who went to him say that he was very good. He probably couldn’t do any better than that. So he made the appointment for the very day of the six month anniversary (luniversary?) of the signing of his contract for his ICP. He told Mrs. Warren that this would be his last day in the program, and to his annoyance, she just nodded and smiled at him, as if she knew something he didn’t. In his paranoia, he took this as an indication that she knew this doctor well, and so he called and cancelled this appointment, making another for the same day with another highly recommended doctor in town from the list, Dr. John Bryant. When Doug called Mrs. Warren to tell her of this new appointment, she had to smile. This was certainly the Doug she’d grown to know and enjoy over the winter, unflinchingly naive, persistently optimistic, and still completely unaware of the game they were playing. He thought it made a difference which doctor he went to. That was cute. Well, he’d find out soon enough. All in all, she thought, Doug had turned out to be a wonderful client. He thought he was smart, so he’d tested the rules at the beginning, allowing her to exercise her talent at punishment to a satisfying degree. He’d made great progress in his incontinence, as far as she was concerned, and she had no doubt what the result of his doctor visit would be. She’d prepared him well. He was hers for as long as she wanted his money, which, at this point, was indefinite. And, at least until his appointment, he was completely in the dark, and so was unflappably enthusiastic about his chances at getting out of the program. He’d also learned enough lessons by now to make him nearly perfectly docile, the ideal client, who, as time went by, would need less and less care, so that she could concentrate on the new ones. Already, she had several newer boys that she needed to focus on. They were still defiant, still drank from glasses, still wore regular pajamas to bed, still probably masturbated regularly. Doug was nearly completely infantilized, and, as such, was now completely subject to her blackmail. He would never attempt to explain to others how he had been “made” to wear bibs or those hysterical feminine sleepers, or been “forced” to sit in his own poop, or drink from bottles. He was so far in that he’d never, ever consider rebelling. So he was hers. Mrs. Warren savored the thought: even as Doug prepared for his “big” appointment, he was hers. Chapter 14 Doug entered the exam room indicated by the nurse. He nervously waddled over to the examination table and uncertainly set down the pink diaper bag that Mrs. Warren had forced him to bring today. He normally took it everywhere, of course, but he had asked if he might be allowed to leave it at home just this once. Today was different for the reason that he wanted to make a good impression on the doctor. However, since he was forced to bring the bag, he was now simply hoping he’d have five minutes or so before the doctor came in so that he could take off his diaper and hide his bag, since both of those clues might make the doctor think he really was incontinent. The worst thing that could happen today, now that he had endured the whole six months, would be if the doctor really mistook him for someone who was incontinent. He had to put his best foot forward and present himself as he was, someone who was in an absurd situation and who just needed a little backup here to get out. But instead of leaving him alone in the room, the nurse followed him in, leaving the door open behind her. “And what are you here to see the doctor about today?” she asked casually, straightening some jars on the counter. Doug was surprised. He hadn’t thought he’d have to tell anyone besides the doctor about his situation. He was embarrassed about it, of course, and didn’t want to go through it with anyone else. “I’d rather just talk to the doctor,” he said, apologetically, trying not to hurt her feelings. He needn’t have worried. “Yes, that’s fine, but you need to let me know the nature of the problem first,” she insisted. She held his chart in her hand, and clearly wanted to write his complaint on it for the doctor. Doug began to get flustered. “But…but it’s personal,” he said. She was pretty. He didn’t want her to know. She looked at him with cool professionalism, telling him with her eyes that he couldn’t have anything she hadn’t seen before. “Yes, I’m sure it is. Everyone’s problems are personal. But I need to know so I can decide how best to prepare you for the doctor’s examination. You just need to give me a clue.” He paused. There seemed to be no way out of it. “I guess I need to talk to him about…well, incontinence.” This caught her attention. Doug started to blush as he felt her eyes sweep over him and come to rest on his diaper bag, next to his feet. “I see,” she commented after a moment. She turned and opened a cabinet under the counter, removing from it a bright blue pad. “Are you wearing any kind of…protection?” He hesitated while the nurse spread out the pad, which was plastic on one side and absorbent gauze on the other, on the examination table. Doug blushed even more when he realized that she was putting it there to protect the table from him. When he didn’t answer right away, she gave him an expectant glance. He didn’t want to tell her, because then they’d all think he was really incontinent. “Uh, no. It’s just a little problem. I don’t even think it’s really a problem. I just need to talk to him about it.” She walked back over to the counter and picked up his chart again. “Hm. It looks like you’re wearing something,” she observed coolly, staring at his groin, which bulged obviously. “What kind?” Shoot. She can tell. “Oh, uh, this,” Doug stammered, staring down. “I don’t need this, it’s just…well, I don’t even know why I have it on.” “Uh-huh,” she said doubtfully. “What I asked was, what is it?” she repeated firmly. “Oh, well, it’s a, um, a brief,” he mumbled under his breath. He hadn’t heard or used that term in over six months, since he’d first talked to Mrs. Sheffield for the first time that fateful day in the drugstore. Since then, of course, it had always been a “diaper.” The other word sounded funny now. “What?” the nurse asked. Doug silently cursed. He’d said it too softly. Now he’d have to say it again. He was now painfully aware of the open door. “A, uh, brief,” he repeated, louder. How much more could he blush in front of her? She stared at him for a minute, before her eyes darted back down to his crotch and a look of comprehension crossed her face. “Oh,” she said, winking at him. “Sorry, I just hadn’t heard that word for it.” Doug could have died. “Okay, well, I need you to take everything off except your diaper, and sit up here on the blue pad,” she said matter-of-factly. “I’ll be back in a minute to get your blood pressure and temp.” She started out of the room, but then reconsidered, reaching down under the table and bringing out a short cotton gown, which she handed him. “Just in case you’re modest,” she explained, smiling. And then she left the room, closing the door behind her. Doug was sort of in shock. That hadn’t gone as planned. He felt ridiculous for calling a “brief” what was obviously a diaper, and he felt even worse when she essentially corrected him, using the more infantile term. Worst of all, now she wanted him to wear it for the examination. That would make a great impression. He could understand why she’d want someone who was incontinent to wear their “protection” during the exam, but it came at a very bad time for him. She didn’t look like she believed him that it was only a little problem. She thought he needed diapers. What would the doctor think? She seemed pretty astute and strong-willed, so he knew he’d probably have to do what she said. Nurses had always scared him a little anyway. He didn’t really have the courage to confront her about not wanting to wear his diaper in front of the doctor; anyway, it wouldn’t help: she’d just tell the doctor he was wearing one, and the result would be the same. He’d lost the first round here. But he could still win the war. He had to. He felt as though his life depended on it. He dejectedly took his shirt off and put the gown on, noting that it barely reached his waist. Useless. He slipped his shoes, socks, and pants off and looked at himself in the mirror on the back of the exam room door. He looked stupid standing there in his diaper and the little gown. And then he looked closer and noticed something: it looked like his diaper’s indicator was now mostly blue. But when had he wet himself? He didn’t know. Now, he’d have to… Suddenly the door swung wide open and the nurse breezed in. She stopped cold at the sight of him in his wet diaper, and through the wide open door, Doug saw two other nurses staring at him as well. He was being gawked at, in his wet diaper, by the office staff. Great. He wanted to go home. But no time for that. His own nurse closed the door and, trying to suppress a laugh, shook her head and said, “Okay, little guy, let’s hop up on the table like I told you.” Completely chagrined, Doug waddled back to the table and hoisted himself onto it, positioning himself obediently over the blue underpad. His diaper rustled loudly, a fact the nurse clearly appreciated. But she was able to avoid laughing outright, and she efficiently took his blood pressure and pulse at his side. She wrote these numbers down, then said, “Okay, just the temp.” She walked over to the cabinets above the counter in front of him and opened the closest, blocking it from Doug’s sight with her body and exposing a small bin of thermometers that read “ORAL” on the front of it. She grunted softly with dissatisfaction and pushed it out of the way to reveal another bin behind it with the label, “RECTAL.” She reached in and pulled out a thermometer, shook it down, and dunked it into a waiting jar of vaseline, pulling out with it a large glob of petroleum jelly. Doug couldn’t see what the nurse was doing, but he had no reason to suspect anything unusual. So though it didn’t quite make sense to him when the nurse, still facing away from him, asked him to lie back and relax, he did it without thinking. But when she turned and approached him a moment later, one hand holding the thermometer with the gooey vaseline on it, the other reaching out to untape his diaper, he sat bolt upright and grabbed the outstretched hand. “Hey, what’re you doing?” he said, not quite sure what was going on. “You just lie back and be a good boy. We’ll be done in a couple of minutes.” Doug was slowly catching on, and couldn’t believe it. She couldn’t really be talking about sticking that thing in there. “But that’s not how you…” “Ah, ah,” the nurse chided, as if to a child. “First let’s get this in, then we can talk.” Talk with the thermometer in? he thought. That definitely meant she wanted to do it rectally. Despite his fear of nurses, he had to protest this. “But that’s a rectal thermometer,” he said quickly, pointing out what he still hoped was a mistake. She nodded. “That’s right. It goes in your bottom. I just need you to lie down so I can undo your diaper.” That wasn’t a good enough explanation for him. This was so humiliating. And he couldn’t let her see that he was hairless down there. This was horrible. He had to fight this. “But that’s for babies.” “Uh-huh,” she said brightly, as if he’d answered his own question. “But I’m not a baby. You don’t need to do it that way.” “Well, but you are wearing diapers, and that’s the rule. It may not make much sense to you, but it’s for your own safety. The insurance companies require us to do it this way with anyone in diapers, something about competence and the safety risk of putting mercury in your mouth. I know you’re not the normal diaper-wearer, but the office has to follow the policy. I could get fired for breaking that rule. Do you want me to get fired?” she asked him. “Well, no, but…” “Okay. Well, then, I need you just to lie back and relax.” She tried to push him back gently with her free hand. Doug started to whine. “Please, couldn’t you just make an exception?” “No. I told you, I’ll get fired. Now we can do this nicely, or I can call and get some help, and we can hold you down. It’s your choice. But we’re going to do it,” she told him sternly. He could do nothing but hang his head. “Okay,” he said in frustration. He just hated being treated like a baby by everyone. “You don’t have to hold me down. I just don’t understand.” He allowed her to lay him back. He stared at the ceiling, hoping this visit would improve. She undid his tapes with her free hand, and pulled his diaper down between his legs. He felt her pause as she obviously took in the sight of his bald crotch, but then she collected herself, and instructed him to spread his legs and lift them way up, so that his knees were on his chest. He did this automatically. He’d been cleaned and changed enough by now to know how. He closed his eyes as he felt her separate his cheeks and slip the cold, slimy thermometer inside. He couldn’t help flinching at this shocking sensation. “Sorry it’s cold. It should warm up.” Doug nodded and felt a tear slide down one cheek. This was just so humiliating. He felt her fingers against his skin down there, firmly holding the thermometer in its place. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, hoping it would all end soon. Finally he felt it exiting, and for a second thought that he was accidentally having a BM. He yanked his head up to look down there, but all he saw was the nurse wiping off the now-brownish thermometer with a tissue, reading it, and writing down the number. She grabbed another tissue and brought it over to him, wiping the vaseline off of his bottom. As she did this, she commented, “That’s quite a wet diaper you’ve got there. Did you bring a spare?” Doug could only nod shamefully as he stared upward. This was so painful. He thought she was about to suggest one or the other of them change him, but she seemed to change her mind. She pulled his wet diaper up between his legs and retaped him tightly, saying, “Well, I’m sure you can wait until after the doctor sees you. Then you can be sure to have a dry diaper to go home in.” Doug heard a door slam down the hall. “Ah, he must be ready for you, so we don’t have time to change you anyway. He’ll be in in just a second.” She helped him sit up, and then left the room. The nurse found Dr. Bryant in the hall and told him his next patient was ready. “What’s this one?” the doctor replied, working on a note on the previous patient. “Incontinence,” she answered, smiling at him meaningfully. Seeing a quizzical look in response, she explained, “Another one of those young men with diapers and absolutely no control. This one’s diaper is soaked.” “Another one?” Dr. Bryant shook his head in amazement. “I’ve got to talk to Linda Warren. Where does she find them?” “As if you don’t like the referrals,” the nurse teased. “Well, of course, it is good business for us,” he agreed. “But it’s just so strange. My whole career I don’t see any of them, and then in the last few years, it’s like one every couple of months, all under the nursing care of Linda. Very odd. Well, I’m not complaining. Did you get this one’s temp rectally?” “Of course,” she said. “I know the drill. And of course, he put up the requisite fuss, but he eventually bought the line about insurance and office policy. Same as the others.” “That is a good excuse. And I know they all seem to object, but remember what Linda told us: they like being treated that way. She says they only object because they know we’ll tell her, and they’ll get into trouble with her.” “And they like that? I’ve heard she does some of that S&M stuff with them to punish them.” “I know. It’s crazy. But she insists they like it. And I knew Linda when she worked here, and I trust her. I also know for a fact that there are people out there, probably more than most folks would guess, who do get off on that sort of thing. Far be it from me to judge them.” “The thing I really don’t understand is why they would come to you like they do.” “Well,” Dr. Bryant said, stroking his chin, “That is the confusing part.” He thought a moment. “Linda tells me that they enroll in this little `program’ of hers because they clearly want to be babies again, which is fine. Whatever floats their boat, you know? But then, exactly six months to the day after they enroll, they come crawling in here saying they don’t like it after all. Infancy, it seems, is not all it’s cracked up to be,” he said, laughing. The nurse also laughed; diapers didn’t seem like that much fun to her. “But at this point, I must say that I don’t feel much sympathy for them. In my opinion, if you want to make your bed, you’ve got to lie in it, too. What they do is, they spend six months intensively regressing themselves back to babies, and doing it very successfully, I might add, and then they want to grow up all at once. Well, it just doesn’t work that way. They all want to be told that they’re continent and ready to resume their lives, when, as you know, they’re completely incontinent, just as they wanted to be. It’s totally irrational. And then they want me to help them, now that they’ve done all this to themselves.” “But you can’t do anything, for that, can you?” the nurse asked. “Not a thing,” he replied. “They’ve completely deconditioned their sphincters. What can I do to help them? So I tell them the truth, which often surprises them for some reason, though I can’t imagine why. What kind of an idiot do you have to be not to realize that if you fully regress yourself, you’ll just have to do the work growing up again?” He finished up the chart note from the prior patient. “There’s no shortcut. The best I can do is be honest, and, for fun, play into their little game as much as I can. That’s why I ask you to rectalize them, as gross as that may be for you. It’s probably the only thing they get out of this visit.” “Oh, I don’t mind,” the nurse said graciously. “In fact, it’s kind of fun, especially seeing the look on their faces when I come at them with the thermometer all covered with vaseline. I’ve seen several of them wet their diapers on the spot.” They both shared a chuckle at the idea. “It’s fine until you run into a messy diaper,” she said. “Then it’s not so funny.” She wrinkled up her face. “Oh, was this one messy?” the doctor asked. “No, no. Just wet. Haven’t had a messy one in quite a while.” “Yes, that’s odd, actually,” he said. “Because without exception, they’re incontinent of bowel as well. I’m surprised we don’t see more of it.” “Yes, well, I’m just as happy this way,” the nurse laughed. “Okay. One other thing. Was he shaved clean down there?” The nurse nodded, smiling. “As a whistle.” The doctor chuckled. “Alright. Well, where is this one’s chart?” “In the door, waiting for you. Be nice, he looks very embarrassed.” “Yeah, but Linda says that’s part of it. They like the humiliation.” “Whatever. Don’t be long. Drug lunch when you’re done.” “Okay, thanks.” Dr. Bryant glanced at the chart and opened the door. He entered the room, took in the sight of Doug sitting in his wet diaper, collected himself quickly, stuck out his hand and introduced himself. “I’m Dr. Bryant. You must be Doug. What can I do for you today?” Doug cleared his throat, looked down at his wet diaper, and said, “Well, it’s a long story, but the bottom line is, I’m being forced to wear these because some crazy woman thinks I’m incontinent. But I’m not, and only if you write me a note saying I’m continent will she let me not wear them. So I need you to tell her I’m perfectly continent, and that’s all.” Dr. Bryant shook his head. Amazing how they all knew the script so well. But he’d have to tell Linda this one said she was crazy. That was rich. “Let’s slow down, and start at the beginning. When did this all start?” He knew the answer before it was said, but he had to go through the whole thing with each one. “Six months ago,” Doug replied. “This lady made me enroll in a program where I have to wear these because she says I’m incontinent. But it’s just not true. It hasn’t been true since I was three years old.” “Then why did you enroll in the first place? Why did you agree to wear diapers?” This seemed like the critical issue, and these guys could never explain it to his satisfaction, an indication that this story about not liking it was pretty flimsy. “She made me…have an accident,” Doug confessed. “Then she made me sign a contract, and so now I have to wear diapers, or…” He stopped short. He wasn’t sure how much he really wanted to tell him. It was all so humiliating. “Or what?” the doctor prompted. You never knew when you might hear something so new and perverted it was interesting. Doug hesitated. The doctor just stared at him, waiting. “Or else, she, um, well, spanks me.” It was perfect. The diapers, the spanking, the faked embarrassment. Well, free country, right? He had nothing at all against a good kink. And he was making money, too. Might as well play along. It would be fun, Linda would appreciate it, and the boy probably would, too. “So then. Have you been a good boy and worn your diaper the whole time?” Doug nodded, ashamed. “Good. So what’s the problem? You’re being good, wearing your diapers, so why are you here?” This wasn’t going right, Doug thought. Why isn’t the doctor more shocked? “Because I need you to write a note, saying I don’t have to wear these.” Maybe the boy would appreciate a little teasing before being examined. “What makes you think that?” Doug began to get a little flustered. “Because I’m a grown-up! I know how to use a toilet. I’m not a baby!” “But from where I sit, you look like you’re wearing a soaking wet diaper. What’s to convince me you’re continent?” the doctor asked with a look of mock confusion on his face. “Because I am!” Doug exclaimed. “I never had accidents before she made me wear them. It’s just because she locked my toilets that I use these. I wouldn’t otherwise.” “Hmmm,” the doctor said doubtfully. That was enough, he thought. No need to torment the guy. The nurse was right: he’s pretty pathetic. Maybe this time he’ll actually have some control, and I can write him a little note. It honestly appears that it would make this one happy. I’d sure be glad to do it. “Well, I should examine you to settle this question.” He went over to the counter and got a glove and some lubricant. “I need you to lie back for me.” Doug did so quickly, knowing this was necessary. At last, he was being taken seriously. After six months someone finally was entertaining the notion that he was continent. Finally, his chance. He’d show them all. He laid still as he felt the doctor untape his diaper and pull it down between his legs once more. Doug lifted his knees spontaneously, up to his chest, which exposed his hairless groin to the doctor. “Alright, just relax. I’m going to check your sphincter tone down here.” And Doug felt the doctor’s cold, slimy finger push its way into his anus and probe around. He tried to tighten his bottom when the doctor said to do so. Then the doctor withdrew his finger and threw the glove away, silently. Doug was dying to know the result of the exam, but he was too scared to ask. So much depended on this result. He lowered his legs. “Alright, let’s check your urinary control. Do you think you could pee for me right now?” Doug nodded, though he didn’t know why that was important. The doctor pulled his diaper up through his legs again and held it an inch away from his hairless penis and testicles, so that the doctor could still watch but would be protected. “Alright, I want you to start peeing in a moment, right here, into your diaper, like you always do. The only difference is that I am going to watch, and after you’ve started, I’m going to ask you to try to stop peeing. When I say so, I want you to try to stop as quickly and completely as you can. Understand?” Doug nodded, grasping the test laid out before him. This would be it. “Go,” the doctor said. “Pee into your diaper.” Doug tried to push, which was a strange and ancient feeling for him. He hadn’t needed to try to pee in many months. It always just came out. But he managed to get a stream going. He heard it hitting the diaper above his penis, but because the diaper was already wet, he also felt it drip off the diaper and run down his bottom underneath. “Stop!” Dr. Bryant said, and Doug tried. It was finally time to get back on that bike. He tried to clamp down, to stop that stream, but it seemed very difficult. The stream seemed very strong. Surely he couldn’t be expected to stop it completely? That seemed impossible. Slowing the stream down was probably enough, but the wetness that kept running down his bottom made him think maybe he couldn’t do that very well. Well, but this must be an advanced test. He probably got some points for being able to start peeing on cue, right? When he finally dribbled to a halt, Dr. Bryant said, “How much do you have left? Can you go anymore?” But he couldn’t. He was drained. His bladder had fully emptied. Dr. Bryant nodded, and laid the front of the diaper onto his abdomen. He walked over to the sink to wash his hands. “Do you have a dry diaper to change into for your trip home? If not, I’m sure the nurse could find one here for you.” Doug said, “I’ve got one,” quietly. This wasn’t a good sign. The doctor dried his hands and turned toward him. “Why don’t you take a moment to get cleaned up and into a dry diaper, and you can get dressed, too. I’ll be back in a moment to talk to you. Oh, to whom did you want me to write that letter?” Doug’s heart leapt. This doctor was wonderful! He was going to write it anyway! He must have done better than he’d thought. Or maybe he felt sorry for him. But either way, his life wasn’t over after all! He’d show that bitch. “Linda Warren,” he said brightly, and gave him her address and telephone number to the doc when he asked. The doctor left, and Doug hopped down, wrapped up the wet diaper and put it in the bag he’d brought for the purpose. He still probably had to turn it in at the end of the week. He used one of his wipes to clean himself off, and then got a clean diaper out of his bag. But then he stopped. He didn’t need this diaper, he thought to himself, joyously. He was out of the program. Suddenly, however, another few drops of urine squeezed out, onto the blue underpad. Doug reddened as he thought of how the nurse would see that and feel vindicated that she had made him sit on it. In light of that, he decided that maybe wearing this last diaper home wasn’t such a huge concession. Just to be safe. How great that sounded! His last diaper! What a great day, even when it hadn’t started so well. His whole life now seemed brighter than it had yesterday. Unconsciously he rubbed his penis as he arranged the diaper on the table and sat on top of it. He needed to masturbate so badly. It had been so many weeks. But he could when he got home! Whenever he wanted! And let his hair grow! And use the toilets! And wear big boy underpants! And wear normal pajamas, and use real glasses, and not wear bibs. He taped himself in for what he told himself was the very last time. That bitch. How had he ever let her control him, make him wear diapers, spank him like a baby? How foolish he’d been, really, looking back on it all today. It was really crazy what she’d convinced him to do. But he was a new man today. Beyond all that crap with that silly ICP. No more crap from anyone. He got dressed and sat in the chair next to the table. After several minutes, Dr. Bryant walked in and said, “Ah, good, you’re ready. Dry diaper? Good, I’m sure that’s much more comfortable. Well, I went ahead and called Mrs. Warren, so everything’s all set.” Doug’s face lit up. Called her himself! That was great! She’d have to believe the doctor himself. “Thank you so much, Dr. Bryant. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.” Dr. Bryant looked slightly confused. “Er, uh, no problem. She said to tell you that she’d be waiting at your apartment with next week’s supply of diapers. You know, that’s service for you! You must enjoy that,” he said, earnestly trying to imagine. Doug stared at him. “What do you mean, next week’s diapers? Didn’t you tell her I’m not incontinent?” The doctor stared back. “Of course not. I told her the truth: you need your diapers like a fish needs water. You continent? I’d lose my license for that,” he chuckled. Doug, however, was not laughing. “But…oh, my God. I didn’t want you to tell her that. Oh, no, you didn’t…” Dr. Bryant stopped chuckling and tried to figure out what was wrong with this scene. “But of course I had to. I have newborn patients with more control than you. Your anal tone was completely nonexistent, and you dribble more than an entire basketball team!” He’d started laughing again. It was just so absurd. But he stopped when he saw how upset Doug looked. “I’m sorry if I didn’t make that clear. I assumed you had to know it.” Doug shook his head. Probably he did know it, but hadn’t yet confronted it as reality. How could he face it? It didn’t make any sense. “But I don’t understand why I’m this way now. I really never had any problems before. How could it have just happened?” Dr. Bryant saw how devastated Doug looked, and he was once again struck by this particular boy’s vulnerability. He looked like he really didn’t understand and perhaps needed a good explanation. Dr. Bryant sat down in front of Doug. “Doug, when was the last time you used a toilet?” Doug could recall the day and the time perfectly. It was the morning six months ago when Mrs. Warren had awakened him with her knocking. He’d stumbled into the bathroom and peed into (and around) the downstairs toilet. It seemed so long ago. “Six months ago, to the day.” “And have you tried to hold your bladder and bowels during the last six months at all? I mean, when did you give up caring whether or not you controlled yourself?” Doug thought about it. This question was harder. “Well, I guess I stopped caring right away. I mean, why not? It didn’t help to wait, `cause I still had to use the diapers. I couldn’t get out of it, no matter what. So I didn’t even try.” The doctor nodded. “And do you even have to think about it now?” Doug shook his head. “No, but actually that’s great. It’s the one nice thing about this diaper thing. I don’t even notice when I pee these days. I mean, if I have to use the diapers, I’m glad I don’t have to think about it. But how does that have anything to do with this? I’m older than a toddler, even if she doesn’t treat me that way. Why can’t I control myself?” Dr. Bryant thought for a second, trying to use a good analogy. “Doug, have you ever broken a bone?” Doug nodded. What the heck did that have to do with anything? “Was it in a cast?” “Yeah. For six weeks.” “And at the end of the six weeks, what did your arm feel like?” Doug tried to remember. “It was pretty weak. I couldn’t do anything with it at first, and it got really tired very quickly.” The doctor nodded at him. “That’s because of something called atrophy. Muscles sort of waste away when you don’t use them. It’s possible to completely lose function in them. Now imagine if you’d had that cast on for six months.” Finally Doug understood. He thought for a moment. “So I’m just weak? Or did I lose it completely?” This could be horrible news. Dr. Bryant considered this. “Well, I don’t think you’ve lost use completely, although I can’t be sure.” “So I could get it back?” "Perhaps. If you try to use those muscles again. But it won’t be easy, Doug. There is a developmental principle that applies here. It has to do with milestones. When a child gets sick, he often regresses slightly with the illness, so that he loses the most recent milestone he has learned. This happens all the time with bedwetting in four- or five-year-olds. If they get sick, or stressed, they start wetting the bed again. This has been well- observed and documented in the literature.” Dr. Bryant sat back in his chair. “That’s no big deal, though, because when they get better, they can regain that milestone. The problem is, it generally takes twice as long for a child to regain a milestone as it did for him to lose it. And that’s with intense training. So say a kid is in traction for two weeks and forgets how to walk. It’ll take a month of full-time training for him to get it back. We don’t know why this is so, but it is a universal observation.” This sounded kind of ominous to Doug. He could do the math, but he didn’t want to. “What are you saying?” he asked quietly. “I’m telling you that you could potentially regain control, but I’d estimate that to get back to where you were it would take at least a year of formal, full-time toilet training, probably in some kind of organized program. Until you finish this type of training, you will almost certainly have to wear diapers. It’s just like you were starting from scratch again, like a baby, and you need to wear diapers just like a baby.” Now the doctor leaned toward him. “And because of what you’ve done to yourself, it’ll take twice as long to get better as it did to get this way. You’ll be in diapers for at least another year, Doug. That’s what I’m telling you.” Doug’s mouth dropped open. Another year. “And that’s if you start a formal potty-training program immediately. I don’t think you could retrain yourself on your own: it’s simply too difficult. You’ll need someone’s help in this.” The doctor smiled here. “Luckily, you’re already hooked up with someone who also runs a potty-training program like this. Mrs. Warren tells me she’ll be happy to continue working with you on this.” Doug sat motionless, trying to let this sink in. But it was so overwhelming, so devastating. “I might point out to you, Doug, that if you want control back sooner rather than later, you ought to get started as soon as possible. Every day you delay potty-training is additional two days after that in diapers. So every week prolongs things by three weeks. This thing, unless you get on top of it quickly, could drag out into several years of difficult training. Do you understand?” Doug nodded numbly. And as he sat there listening to his doctor explain the medical reality of his situation to him, he really did begin to understand. For the first time since this entire thing started, Doug began to comprehend fully what was happening. It was clear to Doug that Mrs. Warren knew all of this. She’d been a nurse, so she’d have to know about atrophy, and milestones, and retraining. His chronic suspicions that she enjoyed embarrassing him blossomed into the realization that she’d done all of this to him on purpose. Everything she’d done had been to make him lose control, from the very first glass of diaper juice. Why? he wondered. Money, perhaps, since he paid her. And if she really had dozens of other “babies,” then she probably made quite a bundle. But there had to be more. She was smart and skilled enough that she could make money doing anything. No, she also had to like this. And the more he considered it, the more he realized that she liked nothing more than seeing him suffer, even from the first accident in the bathtub. She loved to find excuses to spank him, to humiliate him, to degrade him. And this lady was so mean, so smart, and so capable, that she had figured out a way to make her living from it. As the insight began to form, it gained momentum and flooded Doug’s consciousness. He even began to see why she had made him wait six months before going to the doctor. It had to be long enough to assure that he’d lose all bladder and bowel control. And just as she had planned, he had. He cursed himself. How could he not have figured this out before today? He’d played along, at every step of the way. “I’ll just go along with it until tomorrow, or next week, or in a few months,” he’d said, again and again, each time walking further down this fateful path to where he sat today. Today, when he realized that he now needed Mrs. Warren and her diapers. Now he was exactly what she’d said he was at the beginning: completely incontinent. Now, in addition to being locked in by that damned contract he’d signed, he actually needed her diaper service to control his incontinence. And he was obviously hers for the next whole year. Hers to torture, hers to diaper. But even more insight flooded in. Why should she stop at one year? She had a financial interest in his incontinence. He wasn’t even off of probation yet. Say it took another six months to make it off of probation, which he guessed was an underestimate, and then another six months to get to the retraining stage. Potty training would then take another three years after that. He was probably looking at four more years in diapers, and worse than that, four more years with Mrs. Warren. Did he even have the will to potty-train with her for three years? And, knowing her, wasn’t it likely that she would make it even longer than that, or send him back to diapers near the end just out of spite? Doug experienced an epiphany when he grasped that he would never be allowed out of his diapers, and now that he’d gone along with her for this long, he was now totally helpless to stop it. He was hers forever. And…no more orgasms. Ever. Over the following days and weeks, Doug would think back, remembering the day he’d first wandered into TIC’s clutches. He would wonder how he’d fallen for Mrs. Sheffield’s apparently false concern, wonder how she’d ever gotten his address and phone number. He would think about how he’d failed her phone survey test, how he’d volunteered for the incontinence test which had begun to undo him. He would recall every incident of humiliation and blackmail, which were now clearly designed solely to keep him in diapers long enough to lose control. He’d think about the evidence along the way that he was losing his control: the Bowel Encouragement horror, the accident on Emily’s lap during the spanking, the wetting at night. He had been so caught up with little things that now seemed trivial (“Will I have to use a bib for another week?” “I hope she’s not mad at me for coming home early.”) that he’d entirely missed the big issue. He would feel entirely embarrassed and defeated, unable to ignore the fact that he had unquestionably lost the most important battle of his life, and was now diaper-bound and dependent on a sadistic and opportunistic businesswoman interested in only two things: his pain and her money. He would have to submit totally to her will now, and he would have to give up ever escaping her. He would, again and again, think of Emily as the weeks and months rolled by, wondering where she was, what might have happened, had things been different. He would fantasize about her while awake and dream about her while asleep. And he would never give up hope that they might someday meet again in the future… And Doug would wonder about the other “clients” to which Mrs. Warren referred. Who were they? What kind of lives had they lost as their independence inevitably fell to the infantilization industry? And how many other ABs were there out there, blithely entering drugstores and medical supply stores to purchase adult diapers, never suspecting that a Mrs. Sheffield or Mrs. Warren might be waiting to lead them into their own versions of ICPs? Doug never imagined that such diabolical businesses operated behind the walls of the pharmacies where he had bought his diapers. How many other fetishists or ABs would unwittingly follow in his footsteps? Dr. Bryant had, of course, been watching as Doug worked through most of this, but though he wondered, he couldn’t possibly know what he was thinking. He did, however, have a lot of free food waiting for him at the drug luncheon, so he stood and offered Doug his hand. “Good luck,” he said. “You’ve got quite a long road ahead of you.” He couldn’t know how long. He started to leave, and turned just before he opened the door. “Oh, I’m sorry, but of course, I had to tell Mrs. Warren that you gave the nurse some trouble when she tried to take your temp. She didn’t sound too happy to hear that, but she said thank you and to tell you that you’d know what to expect when you got home. Sorry I forgot to tell you before; I guess I got a little distracted. At any rate, come back and see me if I can be of any help to you. Goodbye, Doug.” And he left. Doug did indeed know what to expect. He rubbed his padded bottom in expectation. He could just see Mrs. Warren smiling her all-knowing smile at him when he arrived home. Yes, for the first time in six months, Doug knew exactly what to expect. The End

Hi, I've never written many stories in my life (and never about abdl before). So this is my first abdl story, hope you like it. Chapter 2 is ready, I'm just checking the text. It will be posted soon. Ps.: My main language is not English and I don't speak it very well, so I had to use an online translator and a grammar checker. The story in the original language is correctly written, but I had to make some changes to the translation, it shouldn't be perfect, I hope you understand. Ps2.: If this story is similar to one you've read before, it's purely coincidental. I've read many stories, but none quite like this, even if I've read a similar scene. Chapter 1 - Current Situation Sometimes I wonder how I got to this point in my life, the only thing I know is that at this moment I find myself lying here in the dark, inside a pink crib with a locked lid, while my ass is sore from the punishment I received for breaking yet another one of ''mommy's rules’’. To make matters worse, in addition to the pain in my "bumbum" (as Mom prefers to call it), I feel my dick throbbing inside the small, pink chastity cage I'm being forced to wear, and to complete the situation, a big, thick, pink and soaked diaper, covers it all while protecting ''my crib'' from accidents. The only light on is a small, dim pink lamp on top of a piece of furniture next to the changing table. From inside the crib, I can see few things in the room, but what I can see are all things from the “mommy’s sissy baby” (would that be me?). While I don't feel sleepy (because it's too early, since Mom put me to bed early as a form of punishment - it's 07 p.m.), I keep looking at the nursery I'm in, and I can see a changing table with a huge stock of diapers in the spaces below, all diapers are big and thick, some colored and some completely white, but all are quite large and look like night diapers for their size. Near the changing table, I see a closet where mommy keeps all of my new clothes she bought for me, most of them frilly pink dresses, onesies and other humiliating clothes. Also, I can see the armchair where mommy just spanked me as punishment for breaking the rule that “babies can’t ask for their diapers to be changed, only mommy decides when to change.” I'm wearing a pink onesie as a sleepwear and on the front of the onesie it says ''mommy’s stinky sissy baby'', I'm also wearing thick cotton gloves that don't allow me to use my fingers, so I can't take my diaper off during the night, just like I have a big pink pacifier stuck in my mouth with tape. Mommy said she doesn't want to come in the morning and find me without my pacifier and have to punish me again. Time passes and I hear mommy walking around the house and talking to someone on the phone, but I can't hear what she says. While I'm here I've wetted my diaper twice more and I'm starting to doubt I'll wake up with dry sheets tomorrow, plus, mommy said I better have a fully used diaper when she comes to check on me tomorrow morning or else I'll be punished again. I was very bored from just lying in my crib for so long and ended up falling asleep. I wake up the next morning not knowing the time, but with a few rays of sunlight already coming in through the window and through the curtains, leaving the room a little bright. As soon as I remember my situation I feel my diaper more flaccid and cold with the large amount of pee in it and I remember what mommy said the night before about using the diaper completely. I was too scared that mommy would suddenly open the bedroom door and I still haven't used my diaper completely, so I close my eyes and try to focus on getting my diaper a mess. I start pushing and all I feel are farts coming out and making noise inside my diaper. Suddenly, I start to hear footsteps in the hallway and my fear grows. Mommy was already awake. I keep pushing but nothing but pee fills my diaper even more, so as I continue my effort mommy opens the bedroom door at the same time a loud muffled sound comes out of my already swollen diaper and when I open my eyes, mommy has a smile on her face watching me from the door and says: - ‘’Own, is my sissy baby pooping in her little diaper for mommy? How cute! Let mommy check your diaper. That was it, there was no more time, mommy would check my diaper and realize I didn't do #2 and punish me again. Mom walked over to the crib, opened the top cover and lowered the side rail, then took off the sheet that covered me and I saw her look towards my crotch. - ‘’Looks like my baby girl had an accident and her diaper leaked in her crib, but what a naughty little girl.’’ I felt my face flush instantly, she noticed and gave a smile, after that she opened my onesie and put her fingers in the crotch of my diaper and pulled back a little to check. - ‘’Looks like my baby didn't completely use her diaper during the night, too bad, I'll have to punish you again baby, but not now.'' Mom helped me out of the crib and held my hand as she led me to the bathroom. Getting there, she took off my wet onesie and my gloves, but she still kept the pacifier in my mouth. When she opened my diaper it fell to the floor with a loud thud and she giggled, then she rolled my diaper up and placed it on top of the lid of the dirty diaper bucket. She put me in the shower and gave me a bath, scrubbing my now hairless body and giving a special attention to my bumbum and penis (which she called "little clitty"). After the shower we went back to my room and she helped me onto the changing table and told me to lie down and not move while she went to get something. A few minutes later, she came back with a big bottle of milk in her hands and gave it to me, telling me to drink it all while she changed me. My face burned with embarrassment as she rubbed baby lotion on my bottom, still red from the spanking from the night before, and on my clitty, then she opened a fresh diaper and put it under my bottom and started sprinkling baby powder on me. As she ran her hands over me, she noticed my little cock trying to get hard inside the pink chastity cage and said how cute it was and how it felt like I was enjoying being her baby. The milk in the bottle was sweet and tasted great and before mommy even finished changing the diaper I was done. After the change she took the empty bottle and put it on the shelf below the changing table and helped me to a seat and told me to wait while she picked out an outfit for me to wear for the day, heading to the closet and bringing back a little pink dress with white lace all over and words embroidered on the front that said ''Messy Princess'', when I saw this, my face burned with embarrassment. So mommy dressed me and brought white socks with lace ankles and dressed me in them and also put on my feet a pair of pink Mary Jane shoes to match. Then mommy brought out a pink bonnet and put it on my freshly shaved head (mommy had all the hair off my body except my eyebrows and eyelashes). After I finished getting dressed, she took me to the room that had a playpen where she left me and told me that I should play with my new toys (wooden blocks, dolls and stuffed animals) while she got dressed for work. When she finished saying that, she noticed my surprised expression, because she had been working from home since I arrived, so I thought she would always be home with me. - ''Awn baby, don't be worried, mommy called a nanny to take care of you, she has a lot of experience with girls just like you, but we'll need to call her every day mommy goes to work until we find a special daycare for babies like you''. After saying that, mommy left me in the playpen still in shock and went to get ready for work. I wondered which would be worse: having a babysitter seeing me like this or being sent to daycare with other people like me. I've never seen mommy in underwear before, only in a bra a few times, but I've never seen her in panties or naked and it provoked my imagination many times, but soon I felt a pressure inside my chastity cage which made me push those thoughts away. As I lay in my playpen trying to distract myself from all the thoughts running through my mind, I felt my bladder fill quickly and release a large amount of pee in the front of my diaper, warming it up. I wondered how I could pee so much when I had wet my diaper from the night before until it leaked into my crib. But I didn't have time to think about it too much, as the doorbell rang next.

What has Jackie been up to since last we saw her? Well, let's find out! Part two coming next week! If you're unfamiliar with Jackie, this might feel like a weird place to jump in. I've written about her and some of the other characters in these stories before, so you might want to check out Baby's Unexpected Trip and Jackie's Play Date first. ----- Jackie was still tired. Strapped into her car seat, she couldn’t help but be reminded of just how much she had become the baby that everyone else in her life told her that she was. It was barely one in the afternoon, and she’d slept her normal 13 hours the night before. And despite having only woken up at 8, by 11:45 she’d already had breakfast, her daily morning breastfeeding, and lunch. She’d been put down for her nap a little earlier than normal, and being accustomed to her rigidly enforced habits, hadn’t been able to fall asleep as quickly as normal. Before she knew it, Mama was waking her from what felt like only minutes of sleep. After a quick brush of her hair, Mama brought her out to the car and had her strapped in in no time. The loud, childish songs that were playing over the car stereo while Mama drove were even more annoying for Jackie than normal. She often liked to tell herself that she would be fine without the embarrassing amounts of sleep that she got, but if Jackie ever had a day where she got less than an hour and a half for a nap, she’d find herself tired for the rest of the day and sometimes would be so grumpy that Mama would decide that she needed to go to bed even earlier than her normal 7pm bedtime. As usual, Mama hadn’t bothered to tell Jackie where they were headed, but the change in routine gave Jackie a pretty good idea of their destination. Though it was theoretically possible that they were heading to a birthday party for one of the other adult babies in the area, it was most likely that the change signaled that it was time for Jackie to get a haircut. Jackie had made this trip many times before. For almost the first year that she had been returned to infancy, Jackie hadn’t had a haircut. Her hair had been fairly short in college, but it had eventually grown extremely long and fairly unmanageable. Her Nanny, as her Mama was then known, had heard from one of her fellow care-givers that there was a salon in town that closed down its normal business one Saturday afternoon every couple of months and provided haircuts to several of the big babies in the area. For the remaining two years that she had lived as her biological parents’ overgrown infant and the three years since she’d been “adopted” by her Mama, Jackie had been a regular on those Saturday afternoons. As with almost every trip out of the house, Jackie had come to hate her haircuts. With the salon closed, it was only other adults in her situation and their caretakers who were around, but having more people around always increased the opportunities for humiliation. Not only did Jackie have to continue to play her babyish role in front of the other mommies (whose rules and admonishments for their own charges often gave Mama new and humiliating ideas to use on Jackie), but she had to endure the haircuts themselves. Over the course of the five years since she’d been subject to several particularly mortifying styles. At first, her mother had favored a relatively simple cut that lent itself to easy pigtails – a classic but basic look that Jackie could live with, especially when left down. Once Mama took over such decisions, though, things changed significantly. Within a few months, Jackie’s head had been completely shaved, and even applied with a cream that had left her without hair growing back in for the next few months. Though that had saved her from a few rounds of haircuts, Jackie had hated having no hair, especially since during that period Mama treated her as much like a newborn as possible by carrying her more and increasing the amount that she breastfed Jackie. After about six months, Jackie’s hair had finally begun to grow back and the trips to the salon resumed. At first, her trips had mostly involved styling, but eventually her hair was long enough to need trimming in order to maintain a style over the course of the next few months. Her hair was not nearly as thick as it had been before it was cut off, but it had still gotten long enough now to be tied into high ponytails that emerged from the top of her head, which Jackie found to be a particularly humiliating look. Though Jackie wished they wouldn’t, they soon arrived at the salon. Mama parked the car in the parking lot behind the building and came around to the back door of the car. She grabbed the large, pastel pink diaper bag with the embroidered inscription “OPEN IN CASE OF EMERGENCY” from the seat next to Jackie, and then unbuckled the straps that had tightly restrained her in the seat. As she climbed out of the car and Mama closed the door behind them, Jackie suddenly became highly self-conscious about her outfit. Though it hadn’t fully turned cold yet, the slight autumn chill had meant that Mama had begun “making sure that her little baby wasn’t cold” when they went out. As such, Jackie was wearing a rather heavy pink fleece jacket that fastened with four buttons stylized to look like small children’s blocks spelling the word “baby” from top to bottom. The jacket was paired with a matching wool hat designed to look like what a baby girl would wear home from the hospital, complete with a small ribbon bow that featured prominently on Jackie’s forehead. In practice, since the garage door hadn’t even been open when Jackie got into the car, the coat and hat only served to make Jackie much too warm and contributed to her inability to shake her post-nap grogginess. Peeking out from under the coat was the very bottom of the skirt of her short, royal purple baby dress. Of course, none of this did anything to hide the matching purple rhumba pants that theoretically concealed her obviously bulging diaper. Her legs were covered by a pair of opaque white tights that had been put on over her diaper but underneath her panties. On her feet, she wore black Mary-Janes with a modest heel, and the entire look was accompanied by her oversized and omnipresent pacifier. Immediately, though without great force, Mama grabbed Jackie by the wrist and led her across the parking lot to the salon’s entrance. Mama pressed the doorbell, and though there was little chance of being seen and she’d be happy for it as soon as she was inside, Jackie wished that the door wasn’t locked so that she wouldn’t have to stand exposed in her babyish attire as they waited. After what felt like minutes, but was really just about 15 seconds, the door was opened by the salon’s proprietor, Ms. Parker. “Oh, Baby Jackie!” she exclaimed. “Come in darling, you must be freezing out there. It’s so good to see you!” Jackie wasn’t freezing in the slightest, but she gladly stepped into the salon, followed by Mama. Ms. Parker closed the door behind them, and then planted a kiss on Jackie’s cheek. “Say hi to Ms. Parker,” Mama said as she pulled Jackie’s pacifier out of her mouth. “Hi Miff Pahkah,” Jackie lisped. Her job done, the pacifier was just as quickly replaced and Jackie automatically began sucking on its bulb. Mama went to work, first removing Jackie’s hat and then removing Jackie’s coat, all while Jackie stood there uselessly. “I just love your dress, princess!” Ms. Parker said, taking a small step back to survey it as Mama hung up the coat and diaper bag on a rack near the door. “Say thank you to Ms. Parker,” Mama said, again removing the pacifier, ostensibly so that Jackie could speak more clearly, though she was still mandated to lisp outlandishly. “Fank you Miff Pahkah,” Jackie said, following the time-honored strategy of exactly mimicking the words that Mama prompted her with. “And maybe a little curtsey so that she can see it better?” Mama prompted while returning the pacifier to its normal home. Jackie didn’t necessarily want to, but she obediently grabbed a hold of both sides of her dress, bent her knees as she raised her hands to more fully reveal her diapers (Jackie knew that nobody was actually paying attention to the skirt), and finished with a slight twirling flourish that guaranteed that she wouldn’t be required to repeat her humiliation. “Oh, very beautiful!” Ms. Parker exclaimed. “Now why don’t you go play with your friends?” Grateful to be out of the high-pressure interaction with a less familiar grown-up, Jackie continued the five or so wobbly paces down the entrance hall of the salon and stepped out into the main part of the shop. It featured a single room, with the cutting area in the front and chairs for waiting along the wall in the back. Jackie suspected that the salon must normally cater to families with young children, as there was a play area that took up much of the floor behind the chairs that was full of toys that the babies were to play with on these Saturdays. Jackie surveyed the scene. In the chair, apparently just about to get her haircut was Jackie’s frequent playdate companion, Baby Tory. Tory’s nanny and Jackie’s Mama were good friends, as they were similar ages and similarly eager tormentors of their charges. Though Jackie and Tory had little in common themselves except for their babied states, that friendship meant that the two of them saw each other at least monthly outside of haircuts. Ironically, since haircuts always happened on Saturdays, Tory never came with her nanny, but instead with her mommy, the wife of Tory’s ex-boyfriend who had been dominating Tory with her husband for nearly two decades. Mama and Tory’s mommy had much less in common, and so while they were cordial, there was much less chatter than during a regular playdate. On the floor in the center of the room was Stephanie, the first girl that Jackie had ever met who was in a similar situation to her. Hers was in fact very similar, as she too had been regressed by parents who were disappointed by the choices that she had made independently, though she continued to live with them and was accompanied to the salon by her mother. Over by the wall, Jackie could see Baby Kori, whom she had met a few times outside of the salon and often saw here. Kori was being fed a bottle across the lap of her slightly older sister, who Jackie had learned had regressed Kori after having spent more than a year supporting her and providing shelter without Kori showing any signs of seeking a job. Though Kori was only a few years younger than Jackie, Jackie had always felt like they had little in common. Once she had learned more about Kori’s background, Jackie had done her best to keep her distance when possible at the salon, as she felt that if anyone deserved this fate, it might well be Kori. Finally, sitting on a tiny chair at a tiny table and having a tea party with a few dolls that sat in the other seats was another baby that Jackie didn’t feel comfortable around, albeit for different reasons. Susie, as she was called, was the only baby that Jackie knew that wasn’t actually a girl, but in fact a sissy. His wife, who sat along the wall with the other dominant women, had regressed him several years prior, and in many ways, Susie stood out for her girlish looks and behavior even in a room full of women who dressed and acted like the most stereotypical of little girls. The sissy always wore short, lacy dresses that were filled out by layers of petticoats and complimented by higher heels than any of the other babies were ever permitted, and today’s pastel yellow dress was no exception. While all of the babies in the room lisped on the rare occasions they were allowed to speak, Susie’s was so high-pitched and ridiculous that Jackie could barely believe it could possibly come from an adult, let alone a man. Jackie didn’t really have a problem with Susie, but the presence was still somewhat off-putting. Except for her actual father and for Mama’s boyfriend of more than two years who she now was made to call Dada, her world was exclusively female. While part of her recognized that Susie was much too busy being thoroughly embarrassed about all of the women in the room seeing him this way, Jackie couldn’t help but be extra self-conscious about her babyish status and especially her diapered state when she knew that there was a man of approximately her age in the room. In addition to the people in the room, the other thing that Jackie quickly noticed as she stepped in was the smell. She’d recognized early on in her first visit to the salon that one of the reasons that the salon closed to other customers during this time was the unmistakable stench of a daycare that overtook the salon. Sure, there might have been some concern for anonymity (though Jackie assumed that was mostly the caregivers not wanting too many people aware of their likely criminal exploitation of their charges rather than a sudden concern that the babies might be even further humiliated), but most customers wouldn’t want to share a small shop with so many babies and so many diapers. The close concentration of high quantities of baby powder, stale urine, and often much worse meant that the room soon smelled much like any of the babies’ nurseries at home. The pungent aroma that had greeted Jackie as she entered the room let her know that one of her companions was either wearing a messy diaper currently or had recently been changed out of one. Upon reaching the carpeted play area, Jackie dutifully dropped to her knees and began to crawl over to Stephanie, who in her mind was easily the best choice to play with given the circumstances. Almost surely just because they had met first and had a similar backstory, Jackie had long ago decided that she liked Stephanie the best of her “friends.” She had no idea what she might be like if they were to meet outside of the confines of their second infanthood, but here they had built up a reasonable rapport. Had it been a playdate, the two girls would have been forced to endure an elaborate greeting ritual that involved sharing a dramatized, wet kiss on the lips. However, in this setting the mommies seemed to think that it was more hassle than it was worth to have each girl greet each other in such an involved manner, since it necessitated the removal and replacements of pacifiers several times over and could never be done efficiently so long as one girl was getting her haircut. Instead, Jackie and Stephanie simply exchanged a knowing glance from behind their binkies, and Jackie picked up a stuffed animal from the pile near Stephanie. Although Jackie and Stephanie weren’t allowed to actually speak unless prompted, and certainly weren’t permitted to converse with each other, now that they were playing together, they were expected to make noises that “showed that they were having fun.” This was quite a challenge, since they were expected to be fairly raucous without having the opportunity to coordinate any sort of premise with each other, and they weren’t, in fact, having much of any fun at all. By now, Jackie had learned that her playtime with the other babies was designed to make them resort to the most demonstratively babyish forms of play possible, and also to force them to really work at it, which would make it challenging for them to pay attention to the grown-up conversation. This was a shame, because Jackie was always desperate to overhear it. It often contained interesting details about her companions’ lives and backstories and it was almost the only time she ever heard anyone speak in anything but baby talk. As usual, the result of the play rules meant that Jackie and Stephanie started to make a range of noises, ranging from humming to animal noises, with occasional high-pitched squeals and obviously fake, childish giggles mixed in as well. While not remotely stimulating, the exercise did require some focus, which helped to make time pass faster than it did when Jackie was on her own in a playpen. Soon enough, they were approached by Mama, Stephanie’s Mommy, and Ms. Parker. “I’m sorry to break up your fun, babies, but it’s time for somebody’s haircut,” Ms. Parker said patronizingly. It turned out that it was Stephanie’s turn, and she was helped to her feet and escorted over to the chair by her Mommy and Ms. Parker. In the meantime, Mama put her hands in Jackie’s armpits and used her prodigious strength to lift her straight off of the ground and carry her towards one of the couches on the side of the room. “It’s time for my wittle gurl to have a nice big buh-buh before her turn,” she cooed right in Jackie’s ear. They sat down at the far side of the same couch that Kori had been fed on earlier. Kori had been released and was now making the required fool of herself while attempting to dance along to a video playing children’s songs on the television in the corner of the room. Her mommy/sister, however, remained on the coach, and quickly asked if she could feed Jackie her bottle, which was fairly common practice at these events. Though Jackie wished she wouldn’t since she somehow found it even more humiliating to obediently slurp down formula when someone unfamiliar was doing the feeding, Mama unsurprisingly agreed. From the arm of the couch, she picked up the bib that she had removed from Jackie’s diaper bag and fastened the Velcro together behind Jackie’s neck. The bib was a simple white number embroidered with a yellow duck, sized for an actual baby. It would be completely useless if anything were to actually spill, but that was virtually impossible during a bottle feeding. Instead, it was meant to be another ridiculous little reminder of Jackie’s infantile status, a function it performed quite effectively. Mama eased Jackie’s head back into her new tormenter’s lap, and then positioned Jackie’s feet across her own lap. She quickly handed over the bottle, and Jackie’s pacifier was quickly replaced by the rubber nipple of the bottle. Although Kori’s Mommy was cooing all sorts of comments about how sweet she was, Jackie knew that she had no obligation to in any way respond except by continuing to suck on the grossly sweet formula that made up almost all of her daily liquids. Despite the added humiliation of the close attention of a near-stranger who could have been a social peer had her life taken a more normal path, Jackie was quickly settling into a rhythm when she was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing to announce the arrival of another customer. Turning her attention away from Stephanie, whose hair she had been washing, Ms. Parker disappeared down the hallway to answer the door. “Oh, hi, you must be Julia! I’m Ms. Parker. It’s so nice to meet you!” Jackie heard from across the short distance to the door. “I am. We’re so excited to meet you too!” “And look at this!” Ms. Parker continued, turning her tone towards a more syrupy coo that told Jackie that she had turned her attention to Julia’s charge. “How precious, you must be so proud! Oh, please do come in. This is exciting!” As she heard the sounds of coats being taken off and hung up, Jackie racked her mind to think if she knew a caretaker named Julia. She didn’t think so, which might mean that she was about to meet a new entrant to the bizarre social circle she inhabited, though she knew that she didn’t know most of the dominant women in the salon’s first names, so it was possible that she was mistaken. “All right, come right through then and I can introduce everybody,” said Ms. Parker, confirming Jackie’s suspicions as she reemerged from the hallway. She was followed by an average height woman of seemingly no more than 25 dressed in a chic sweater and flattering jeans, who Jackie quickly surmised must be Julia. Somewhat hiding behind her, each being gently pulled along by one of Julia’s hands, came not one but two girls who would clearly be joining Jackie on the list for Ms. Parker’s haircuts today. Jackie was stunned, as she’d never seen anyone with two babies before. Furthermore, a quick doubletake confirmed that the two girls were quite clearly identical twins. They were both just slightly smaller than Julia, and wore matching baby-blue dresses with pink puffy sleeves that were so short that they didn’t even make an effort to conceal the thick diapers they wore underneath. They even seemed to be nervously sucking on their pacifiers in almost perfect unison. From across the room, the only difference that Jackie could spot between the two of them was that one of the two women wore a childish-looking pair of pastel-purple-rimmed glasses. Jackie’s gawking was curtailed at least temporarily when Ms. Parker addressed the room in a deliberate, sing-song voice that kept up the premise that the big babies would only understand what she was saying if she used that preposterous tone. “Everyone, we have some new friends today! This,” she said, gesturing towards the girl with glasses, “is Baby Lauren. And here is her sister, Baby Katie. And this is their mommy, Julia.” “Say hi to your new friends, girls,” Julia gently commanded, ushering them forward from behind her as she spoke. Still behind their pacifiers, both girls gave a muffled “hi” and a weak wave from the hand that Julia wasn’t holding. Katie, in particular, seemed unable to pick her eyes up to look at the crowd. “Babies, all the other little girls here are going to be your friends,” continued Ms. Parker, beginning a round of introductions. “Right here just getting her hair cut now is Baby Stephanie. Over there by the TV is Baby Kori.” Jackie’s eyes followed the direction of the point, seeing that Kori had paused her arrhythmic shaking and twisting, leaving her in an exaggeratedly bow-legged stance in front of the television as she looked back over her shoulder to take in the show-stopping arrival of the twins. “This is Baby Susie and her mommy,” Ms. Parker said, as Jackie noticed slight looks of surprise register on the twins’ faces at the sight of the obviously sissified man. Susie had abandoned her tea party and was now being read a children’s story by his wife while sitting on the floor between her legs with his head resting on her thigh docilely. Jackie had reason to believe that Susie in fact quite despised this role, but she was always amazed at just how devoted of a mama’s girl the sissy could play. “Over in the corner, that’s Baby Jackie having a nice bot-bot from Kori’s mummy,” Ms. Parker said, turning the room’s attention to where Jackie wanted it least. “And her Mama is on the other side of the couch.” Nothing was expected of Jackie, but she still froze. Even as she had followed the conversation around the room, she had continued to make steady progress on her bottle, but now it simply sat in her mouth as she felt the focus of the newcomers turn to her. It truly didn’t matter, but she suddenly wished that her head had been on the other side of the couch so that her exposed diaper bulge would be pointed towards the back wall of the room as opposed to being clear for all to see. She knew that two of the three women might be dressed even more ridiculously than she was, and that the third was the one who dressed them like that, but she still felt an instinctive need to preserve the modesty that she had functionally lost long ago. Perhaps fortunately for Jackie, she could see as she turned a blushing glance towards the new entrants that they were not really paying her much attention already. They were looking in her general direction, but their attention was focused squarely on the floor near the sofa adjacent to the one Jackie occupied, and Jackie could suddenly see why. As Jackie had been doing her best to zone out the annoying cooing from Kori’s mommy by focusing intently on the cartoon images on the side of her bottle, it seemed she had missed the early stages of Tory getting a diaper change before the doorbell had rung. Though it had perhaps just begun, her mommy had clearly not allowed the new company to be a deterrent. As the room’s attention turned to them, she was holding the middle-aged woman’s ankles high in the air with one hand and grasping for baby wipes with the other. One look at Tory’s filthy bottom and the diaper underneath her confirmed for Jackie that Tory had been the source of the smell that Jackie had noted when she walked into the salon. Jackie’s eyes lingered for a moment longer and she saw the mortified big baby twitch as the first cold wipe broke through the shameful brown mush and revealed her clean-shaven skin. Jackie had seen Tory’s diapers changed many times before, but she’d never seen her look remotely so embarrassed. The silent tears that Jackie could see welling in Tory’s eyes betrayed just how much she wished not to meet new people with a dirty backside being helplessly wiped. Jackie turned her glance back to the entrance, and observed that Lauren, Katie, and even Julia all had looks that could best be described as awe on their faces. She wondered if they were surprised only because it was an odd way to meet someone in their 40s, even in the circumstances, or if part of the look had to do with how Tory put up no discernable resistance even in the face of such extreme humiliation. After a rather lengthy pause, Ms. Parker offered a narration. “THAT,” she said without needing to gesture, “is Baby Tory and her Mommy.” “Nice to meet you, everyone,” offered Tory’s mommy, looking up between wipes of her charge’s dirty anus. “Sorry about my little poo-poo princess here. Babies like her never do seem to pick a good time to make stinkies, do they?” Perhaps sensing a moment to inflict maximum embarrassment, she quickly moved herself closer to Tory’s face and cooed rhetorically, “You never do make stinkies at a good time, do you Baby Tory? I don’t think so. You’re just a big poopy princess with bad timing!” With that, she planted a patronizing kiss on her crying forehead and returned to the task of cleaning up after the shameful evidence that her accusations carried more truth than Tory would have liked. Jackie felt bad for Tory, but was also glad that attention had focused on her so briefly and that it hadn’t been her being so singularly humiliated. She realized that she had been gawking like everyone else when Kori’s mommy gently pushed on the bottle to ease her head back into the normal lying position. She once again began suckling as she heard Ms. Parker dismiss Lauren and Katie to go play. She saw Lauren dash off to the tea set that Susie had vacated with surprising energy, and noted that Katie looked decidedly less enthusiastic as she followed. “Kori, keep dancing over there,” Kori’s mommy instructed to what in reality was her sister while continuing to firmly hold Jackie’s bottle in place. “Yeff mummy,” came the hastily squealed response, and Kori furiously redoubled her remarkably childish efforts. Jackie looked up and realized that both caretakers were glowing. Instantly, she realized that neither her Mama nor Kori’s had felt any sympathy for Tory, but instead had shared her Mommy’s thrill in the utter humiliation that was inflicted. Jackie could tell that all of these women must have shared a set of instincts that allowed them to treat the babies like this in the first place, and that each of them was feeling a major rush right now. It didn’t actually surprise her in the slightest to see Mama react this way, but it still scared her. She didn’t think Mama could recreate that particular scenario, but thrills like these often turned into Mama’s most innovative ways to torture Jackie within her humiliating role in their strange family. Jackie tried not to imagine finding herself at the center of that scene as she finished her bottle. Once she was done, she was sat up in Kori’s mommy’s lap, with the slight warm squish that accompanied the position change reminding her that she’d been uselessly trickling pee into her diaper since she was changed a few hours ago. Kori’s mommy began to steadily apply firm pats to Jackie’s back, beginning the embarrassing process of producing a few pre-requisite burps before the feeding could really end. She held the bib up to Jackie’s chin with her other hand. For a second Jackie was a bit confused, but then she realized that it was probably a stand-in for a burp rag, which wasn’t really necessary for adult babies but was still used occasionally by most of the dominants in the room. Jackie took in the scene in front of her. Tory was now secured in a fresh diaper and was herself in the midst of bottle feeding, which was surely a welcome respite from the attention of a few minutes earlier. Jackie’s focus settled onto the mysterious new twins. What caught her eye first was that they were playing differently than the other babies in the room. The most obvious difference was that they were standing up. Though standing could occasionally be a part of specific activities like Kori’s dancing, in general all of the other babies in the room were expected to be crawling and doing all of their playing on the floor. Beyond that, though, Jackie was struck by the energy that Lauren and Katie were bringing to their play. Lauren seemed to be completely over the embarrassment she felt upon walking in, and was constantly jumping around from toy to toy, picking it up and playing with it for a few minutes before bounding off the next item that caught her eye. Katie seemed mostly concerned with not losing Lauren, and would quickly follow her sister everywhere she went. It was like nothing Jackie had ever seen before. She was expected to show signs of enthusiasm when playing with the other babies, but nobody cared that the enthusiasm was obviously faked so long as it existed. Yet, with these twins, it almost seemed like they were actually enjoying themselves. Jackie’s observation time was cut short after a few more minutes when Ms. Parker, now finished with Stephanie’s haircut, came over to announce to Jackie that she would be next. “Oh, yay, how exciting!” Mama said, choosing different words than Jackie would have. She sprung into action, removing the bib from Jackie’s neck and picking her up from Kori’s mommy’s lap. Though she was carried some at home, Jackie always noticed that Mama loved to show off by carrying Jackie and any of the other babies she could as much as possible when she was in a more public setting. Here, Mama effortlessly brought her across the room and deposited her into the chair. “Still want what you mentioned in your email?” Ms. Parker asked. She and Mama were always careful not to ever expressly say what the haircut would be, so that Jackie never knew what she was getting until it was happening. Jackie wouldn’t have had any say in the decision no matter what, but not letting her know what was even happening to her was yet another way that Mama accentuated her helplessness to her. “Yes, please,” said Mama. “Alright then! Baby Jackie, this won’t hurt a bit.” Jackie knew that it wouldn’t physically hurt in the slightest, but her pride wasn’t as certain to be left unscathed. As was usually the case, she could only hope that the haircut would simply tidy up her current style. She wouldn’t have chosen to wear her hair that way, but at least she was used to it. Ms. Parker busied herself fastening the Hello Kitty smock around Jackie’s neck. She’d seen it before, but it always amazed her. They could easily have used a monotone smock like one would expect to find at most salons and Jackie very much doubted that she or any of the other babies who came into the shop would have felt that the smock made them feel particularly adult, especially given that they were all still sucking on their pacifiers during the haircuts. The more childish smock didn’t actually make Jackie feel any more babyish, but it was yet another illustration to her of the almost absurd lengths that Mama and the other caregivers went to ensure that she and the others never even came close to the trappings of adulthood. As Ms. Parker began using a spray bottle to moisten her hair, the new woman, Julia, came over and approached Mama, who had taken up one of the two seats closest to the chair to watch proceedings. “Mind if I sit?” she asked. “Oh, of course not. Nice to meet you,” Mama said, extending a hand for a handshake. “Have you and Jackie been coming here long?” “Well, Jackie has been coming here for about 5 years now, but I’ve only been bringing her for the last three or so.” “Oh, wow,” said Julia, sounding genuinely surprised. “That’s longer than I would have expected that Ms. Parker had even been doing this.” “Oh, you flatter me!” chimed Ms. Parker as she continued to run a comb through Jackie’s light brown hair. “I did my first one of these on Baby Tory on the second day I had the shop almost 20 years ago. I knew her mommy a little from a couple of kinky parties we had seen each other at along the way, and when I opened the shop she asked if she could bring Tory by. Back then it was just her so we did it after hours, but it just keeps growing!” “She’s been a baby for 20 years?” Julia asked. “Absolutely,” said Ms. Parker. “Wouldn’t know how to be a grown-up if she tried anymore.” “Wow! That’s crazy. I never knew things like this could last so long.” “Tell me about it,” said Mama, in a juicy tone that told Jackie that she was clearly turning to gossip mode. “When I first met Baby Jackie almost six years ago, I never would have guessed. Now I can’t imagine how boring life without having her would be.” Jackie was glad someone was entertained. She found her life to be incredibly boring, and the times when it wasn’t boring were usually much worse. “Wait, I thought you said you’ve only had her for three years?” Julia asked. “And who had her before if you knew her six years ago?” “Oh right, I should have explained,” said Mama. “Jackie calls me Mama now, but she used to call me Nanny. Right after she finished college, her parents decided that she wasn’t really turning out right and that they were better off just keeping her as the family baby. So they basically made her what you see here today. For a little while, her Mommy stayed home with her, but eventually she wanted to go back to work, so they hired me to be her Nanny. I didn’t exactly know what I was getting into in terms of a time commitment, but the pay was great and I loved getting to come up with ways to baby her as much as possible. So then, about three years ago, her parents came to me with a proposition. They definitely still wanted Jackie to be a baby, but they felt like having Jackie live at their house didn’t make sense anymore. She was basically always asleep when they were home except on the weekends, but having her there meant they couldn’t really travel without it being a major hassle. So we came to an agreement. They furnished my house with all of the stuff they already had, but kept all of Jackie’s stuff there too. They still pay me, actually more since it is 24/7 now, and Jackie usually spends a day or two on the weekends over there for a while so I still get some alone time. Plus, now we can coordinate it so that she goes over there for longer and I actually get to take some time off too. And I still love to find new ways to keep a big baby in line, so it’s great for me.” Jackie could see Julia looking at her now in the mirror. Though the story hadn’t really been about her as much as Mama, she still was blushing at her embarrassing role in it. Julia was nodding, seemingly taking it all in. “Seems like a good job,” she finally responded. “Best I’ve ever had,” said Mama. “I have to say, I was a little surprised when Ms. Parker said that you were their mommy, not their babysitter or something. How did you get into this?” As the conversation was continuing, Jackie was annoyed by a tugging at the back of her hair. She couldn’t see to be sure, but from the weight it felt like Ms. Parker was pulling her hair into tight curlers. Jackie was bemused by the thought of what that might wind up looking like, but the rare chance to overhear adult conversation kept her attention. “Well, it was really kind of an accident,” Julia started.... To be continued

“But I’m supposed to be big today” I fumed, as Daddy barred my way, diaper in hand. “I know,” his voice was calm and measured, but there was a slightly stern tone to his words, “but it’s going to be a long day, with lots of distractions.” He had a point. Most of my accidents happened when my attention was on something fun or exciting. “And the escape room booking is for two hours. You definitely aren’t going to be able to hold on for that long.” I sighed, I’d been looking forward to today, and didn’t want to spoil it with an accident, but I really didn’t want to wear a diaper, particularly something so thick and babyish. They always made me feel spacey and little, and I wanted to be on my best form with a clear head. “If you don’t make a fuss, I’ll let you have any treats you want while we’re out”. I smiled, it was a small victory, but I’d take it, “OK Daddy”, I said, waddling towards my bed, my very soggy overnight diaper making walking kind of difficult. “Just a second” Daddy said, stopping me in my tracks, “Do you need you go potty before I change you?” I blushed, of course I did. If I hadn’t been so flustered I would have said something to show him how big I could be. I nodded meekly, then began to head towards the bathroom. “Where do you think you’re going?” Daddy asked, gently taking hold of my arm. “The potty” I replied. The hope in my voice trailing off as I realised what he was expecting me to do. He shook his head, chuckling a little, “just do it in your diaper, silly. It’s not that wet, you won’t leak.” I sulked, then whispered, “but I have to poop.” Daddy shrugged, “it smells like you already had a bit of a stinky accident already, so I’m going to have a messy clean up to deal with either way.” I went bright red. Until he mentioned the smell, I hadn’t even noticed. Had I messed in my sleep again, and just not noticed when I sat down? Or did I go while I was having breakfast? Or when I was walking back upstairs? “But I don’t want to do it in front of you?” I whined. Daddy raised his eyebrow, “You’re not normally this modest about being a stinky butt” he joked, stepping behind me and rubbing my back. Without even thinking I gave a little push. Nothing came out. Daddy noticed. Without saying a word he sat himself on my bed, and pulled me onto his lap, guiding my feet onto a little stool to raise them up so I was almost squatting, “try now” he whispered into my ear. I pushed again, wetting myself a little as I did. After a few moments of pushing I felt a big, soft mess erupt into my diaper.Daddy must have noticed too, as he whispered “good kitten” into my ear.I gave another little push, getting the last of the mess out. “Are you done?” I nodded. “I think so”. He hugged me tight for a few moments, then eased me up off of his lap, “let’s see what we’re dealing with” he said, as he gently tugged the back of my diaper. As he did the smell, which wasn’t too bad at first, filled the room. “Well that’s a pretty big mess. Guess the we shouldn’t have given you milk with your breakfast.” I was already pretty embarrassed, but this tipped me over the edge. My tummy went gurgly and my head fuzzy with the humiliation. “If I hadn’t said anything you’d have had a very stinky butt by the time we got to lunch” he teased. Leaving me where I was standing, Daddy reached under the bed and pulled out my changing mat, as well as some bed pads, wipes, creme, powder and gloves. I watched as he put the gloves on, and laid the changing mat and disposable bed pads out. Then, with a few playful pats on my butt, he guided me to lie down for my change. The mess mushed against my skin as I sat on the bed. It made me shiver a little. Daddy noticed. Once I was lying down he eased my pacifier into my mouth, and handed me BearBear, who I used to hide my face. He was very good at hiding my blushes when Daddy opened up the diaper and the smell got so much worse. I closed my eyes for the rest of the change, enjoying the feel of the wipes against my skin as Daddy cleaned me up. After a few minutes he lifted my butt off the bed, slid the clean diaper under me, covered me in rash and powder and taped me up in my clean diaper. I gave a little wiggle, enjoying the feeling, and he blew a raspberry on my belly. When daddy helped me off the bed I realised how big and babyish the diaper he’d put me in looked. It was a Tykeables Camelots, but he’d added a booster pad to it. I could barely put my legs together, and my butt looked enormous. “This diaper is huge” I whinged. “Everyone will see it”. “That sounds like a fuss to me” Daddy cautioned, “and babies who make a fuss don’t get treats, do they?” I sighed. “No Daddy.” He reached into my chest of drawers and took out a plain blue snap crotch romper, holding it up for me, “Arms up” I did as I was told,, allowing him to slide it over my head, then to button it closed. “That should help to keep it held up.” He explained, “now go pick out some big kid clothes for the day”. I did as he asked, taking a pair of baggy jeans and a cute t-shirt with a t-rex on it. I wanted to be big today, but not that big. Daddy packed a diaper bag for me as I got dressed, and as soon as I was ready we headed to the car. ***** We pulled up at the old mall, just outside the centre of town. It was only a small mall, and the retail stores had all closed down about a year ago. Since then the place had been converted into an entertainment complex, with a handful of quick service restaurants, a small bowling alley, indoor mini golf, an arcade, and a huge escape room complex. As we walked toward the building my eyes were drawn to a sign advertising an adult soft play centre ‘coming soon’. “Want to visit?” Daddy asked, seeing what I was looking at. “Yeah” I replied, my excitement evident in my voice. “Maybe we should see if Maya and Rett want to join us?” “Yeah” I agreed. Now even more excited. I loved spending time doing little-y things with Maya and Rett. they were so much fun. That’s why we booked the escape room with them today. It was nice having fun with people who were also Little, even if we were being big. Daddy led me to the place we were getting lunch. It had diner style food, and was really heavily themed to seem like a sleazy, grimey dive bar. Either they spent a fortune making it look right, or they left it as they found it when they moved in. It was hard to tell. Maya and Rett were already there, sitting at a table waiting for us. Although they were dressed ‘big’, a quick glance at their butt revealed they were as heavily padded as me. I wondered whether Daddy and Maya had conspired with each other before we left the house. We reached across the table for hugs, then sat down opposite them. “Excited?” Maya asked me. I nodded, a big grin on my face. She probably didn’t need to ask, I was bouncing up and down in my seat. There were a few reasons for that. “Did you see the sign outside?” I blurted out, at Rett and Maya. “the soft play?” Rett grinned, “yeah”. “Wanna come with us when it opens?” “Sure” Maya said. I stopped bouncing. Daddy and Maya both gave me The Look. Then Daddy leaned over to Maya, and whispered a little more loudly then I was happy about, “someone told me they didn’t want to wear a diaper today. Can you imagine what would have happened if I hadn’t put my foot down?” Maya chuckled to herself. “Rett was the same. They were so certain they weren’t going to be able to make it to the potty, but someone had a stinky butt before we’d even made it here.” Rett blushed bright red. “Everyone know what they want?” Daddy asked. “Chilli cheese fries and chilli cheese dog for me,” I said. “I’ll come with and get ours,” Maya told Daddy. “I’ll have a vanilla milkshake too please” I said as they walked away. Daddy gave me a look, “are you sure? That’s a lot of dairy”. “You said I could have what I wanted” I pouted. “I guess I did” Daddy replied. When he and Maya were out of earshot, I leaned over to Rett, “So are you ready to show them how much smarter and better we are than them?” “Yeah” Rett replied. “I’ve been reading up on puzzles these sort of places use. I think we should be able to get ourselves out pretty quickly.” “Not too quickly though,” I laughed, “we want to get our money’s worth”. Rett giggled. “Yeah. I mean, it’s relative. I hear this place can take up to three hours” I blanched “wow. Daddy said two. I don’t think I’d be able to go that long without needing a bathroom break” “I think that’s why they’ve put us in such thick padding. They expect us to take ages.” “We’ll show them” I said, as Daddy and Maya returned with our lunch. “Show us what?” Daddy asked. “Nothing.” I said, as innocently as I could. He didn’t seem to believe me. “Maybe you should show me your diaper so I can check if you need a change.” I blushed and shook my head, “OK, he said. “Well eat up, we’ll go to the bathroom to check you when we’re done eating.” ****** It didn’t take us too long to eat,and true to his word, Daddy and Maya led us into the bathrooms for diaper checks. We were both a little bit soggy, but we were in such thick padding they decided not to bother changing us. I was hoping I’d get a chance to try to poop, as I could already feel my tummy rumbling from all the dairy, but Daddy didn’t offer, and I didn’t want to ask in front of Maya and Rett, even though Daddy had made me go on my potty chair in front of them lots of times before. After that we headed to the escape rooms. The theming was amazing. The check in area was made to look like a space port, and when we went into the briefing room they had us sit down in seats like we were on a shuttle to a space station. They even vibrated and moved as the ‘ship’ flew us into ‘space’. In the briefing we were told that we were a rescue crew being sent to a space station which had lost communication with mission control. Our task was to investigate what had happened, and if we could, to find and rescue the crew. Once the briefing ended, the door at the front of the room slid open. We unstamped our 'safety harnesses', collected our thoughts, and stepped through into the first chamber. It was a small room with a sign saying 'AIRLOCK ONE'. A screen on the wall flickered into life. "Rescue crew, we're having some trouble connecting to the station's systems from down here" the guy on the static-filled 'transmission' explained, "we can't open the inner door to the airlock from down here. You're going to need to find a way to override it to get on board the station." As the transmission ended, the door from the 'shuttle' slid closed, and the flickering lights held steady at a dim glow. "Seems easy enough" Maya said, examining the numbered keypad beside the door. "I suppose we just need to find the code somewhere around the room. Daddy began searching for numbers, while Maya looked at the keypad from different angles. "maybe there will be some wear from where people have pressed the buttons before" she explained. "I'm not so sure that's the right solution" I said, but by then Maya and Daddy were already engrossed in their hunt, and didn't hear me, or at least didn't respond. "I think you're right" Rett agreed. "I haven't seen anything that looks like clues to a code, and they usually telegraph that sort of thing." "So what are you thinking?" I asked "Well, as it's an airlock I don't think there will be a crawl through to the next room, so I'm guessing they want us to do something to short out the lock" "So we're looking for a removable panel then?" "I think so." Rett replied. Our hunt began. Rett took one side, I took the other, and we crawled around the room, trying to tug the panels off the walls. When Maya noticed what we were doing she chuckled and called to Daddy, "have you seen what the two cuties are doing?" "Leave them for two minutes and they're already crawling around" he replied. The joke was on them, though, I managed to get a panel beside the airlock door off the wall. Behind it were five wires, one red, one yellow, one black, one white and one with black and yellow stripes. "I've found something" i called out. Everyone came over to look. "So how does this work?" Daddy asked, thinking out loud rather than expecting a response. I tugged the wires. All five of them came loose at one end. "I guess we just need to connect these up in a different way" I explained. "Should we just try solutions?" suggested Maya. I did as she suggested. This didn't seem very efficient, but it was better than just sitting staring. Rett was a bit shy around Daddy, so I didn't hear them talking at first, but then they tapped me on the shoulder. I looked round and they were holding the panel I’d taken off the wall. On the back of it, the side I'd laid on the floor, was a sign that read 'EMERGENCY OVERRIDE', with a picture of the solution. I set the wires how they were on the sign, and the door slid open. We moved through into the next chamber: a long hallway with lots of closed doors along each side. The monitor on the wall crackled into life. "Well done on getting through the airlock" the Guy at Mission Control said, "Sorry to spoil the moment, but we've got a readout here saying life support is failing, we need you to go to ops to get our downlink for the cameras and uplink for the doors turned back on, and to hydroponics to fix any issues you find." As the transmission ended, lights flicked on above two doors. One was marked 'Operations', the other 'Hydroponics'. Rett, confident from their earlier success, rushed towards the Operations Room. there was a button beside the door. They pressed it, the door slid open, and their face went white. When I caught up to them, we saw why. The room looked like a crime scene. There was blood on the walls, and several dummies made to look like the charred bodies of crew members on the floor. It looked amazing, but I can see why Rett was surprised. I gave them a hug to comfort them. When I did I noticed a smell. I whispered in their ear, "Did you have an accident because you were scared?" Rett nodded and whispered, "I think so". "Let's go in quick, before Daddy or Maya notice". I grabbed Rett's hand and led them inside. They seemed a little bit unsure, but followed. The room had lots of computer consoles with flickering screens, there were different labels above each of them, one said, 'CAMERAS', one had 'LIFE SUPPORT' one had 'DOOR CONTROL' and there were a few others. i went up to the one for the cameras and examined it. As I was looking, Daddy and Maya came into the room. I noticed Daddy sniffing a little bit and realised my hope to spare Rett's embarrassment was probably not great, as the room was fairly small. "It smells a bit funny in here" Maya said, as she walked up behind Rett. Daddy was already behind me, and I felt his hand on the back of my jeans. "I think it's the theming," Rett said, not convincing anyone, "they make it smell like that because of the bodies" "Is that so, Maya asked, gently patting their butt, "so it's not because someone had an accident then?" Rett winced and shook their head. I felt daddy's hand rubbing the back of my diaper, feeling for messies. "All clean here, he announced" "This one's definitely a little bit stinky" Maya announced, “but not too bad.” I saw Rett's expression change, as they began to slip into little space. I was going the same way, but I fought it so that my head was clear for the puzzles, "No fair!" I whined, "you're just trying to make us smol so we don't do better at solving puzzles than you," Daddy and Maya chuckled, not denying their trick. My revelation snapped Rett out of their reverie, and they began examining the Camera console. "it says the camera unlink is off" they explained, tapping the keyboard. when they pressed it a prompt came up asking for a password. "We need to find the password," they said, a hint of authority to their voice, "I imagine it will be written down somewhere". We began searching, not really sure what we were looking for, it felt an awful lot like we were wasting time, as it took us ages, but I eventually had a revelation. One of the 'bodies' was lying right by the consoles. I reached down and turned it over. sure enough, in the breast pocket of the flight suit, was a little pocket book. I opened it up, and inside were passwords. I handed it to Rett, and they began trying them. After three attempts the prompt flickered off, replaced with "PASSWORD CORRECT. TURN CAMERAS ON Y/N". Rett tapped 'Y' on the keyboard, and the two cameras in the corner of the room began to move left and right. We beamed at one another with satisfaction. "Hydroponics next" I declared, grabbing their hand and leading them towards the door. "Shouldn't we do the rest of the systems while we're here?" Daddy suggested. "No." I explained, "We’ll end up getting sidetracked. Besides, they might be part of puzzles we have to solve later on.” Rett and I practically skipped out into the hallway, and down to the hydroponics room. I don’t know what we were expecting to find, but this wasn’t it. The room was fairly small, but along the back wall were a bank of four glass-fronted chambers, and along the side of each chamber were racks upon racks of plants. It took my breath away for a moment, as I puzzled over how the builders of the escape room had made such a huge, long, plant nursery, until I realised they were nowhere near as deep as they looked, and the effect was achieved with a mirror at the back, and a half-mirror finish on the glass in front of me. One of the ‘growing chambers’ seemed normal, but three of them seemed to be on fire, with flickering orange lights and flame effects. As Daddy and Maya caught up with us, the screen on the wall flickered into life, and the briefing began, “You’re doing a great job, Rescue Team. We now have the feed from the cameras. As you can see, it seems there’s a fire in the hydroponics tanks. The fire suppression system has failed. We need you to get it back on before we lose all of them.” “That seems simple enough” Daddy said, a hint of confidence in his voice. I wasn’t so sure. On the floor in front of the tanks were about 20 sections of copper pipe, as well as an angle grinder. I guess in the story the grinder was used to cut the pipe up. There was a pipe connector on one of the tanks, which I assume was where we should be connecting one end of the pipe to, but I couldn’t see the where it was meant to run to. “Guys, I think it needs to run to here” Maya called over from the corner of the room. I was a little surprised that she was the one to find the opening. Not that she wasn’t smart, but I assumed she’d come here because it was Rett’s thing. I was glad she’d begun to get into the spirit of the game though. We gathered around her. She was right, of course. In the corner was a pipe, connected to the wall, with a little wheel on top, but it wasn’t going to be as simple as just connecting the pipe. In front of the opening was a maze of fixed pipework. We would have to build our line out from there, and hope we got the design right and that we would reach the other end without too much trouble. We began. The pipe went together fairly easily, as there were push-fit connectors on the end of each section. While I was crouching down I peed. I wanted to show Daddy I could hold it, but there was no way I’d make it all the way through, and I didn’t see any sense in trying to hold it and being uncomfortable for the rest of the day. I also felt my tummy rumble a little, which made me regret the milkshake a tiny bit. Even though it was really good. Our first attempt with the pipe didn’t work out. We came up about six inches too short. For a minutes or so we couldn’t decide how much of the existing construction to keep, and how much to rebuild. In the end we settled on a complete fresh start. We agreed to let Rett try a few attempts on their own. They were definitely the most suited to it, as they were really patient, but also quite quick with their hands. While Rett worked, I wandered up to Daddy and gave him a hug, and a kiss on his cheek. “What was that for, little kitty?” he asked “Nothin’” I said, in my cutest voice, “I just wanted to be cute at you.” He chuckled to himself. “Thank you, you succeeded.” As I walked away he gently caught my arm, “how’s your diaper doing?” he asked, “I noticed you were peeing yourself while we were putting the pipe together.” I blushed, “how?” “You were looking like you were holding it, then looked very relieved. It was cute.” My face was as hot as the flames in the tanks at the back of the room. “I think it’s OK, I didn’t go that much” “Do I need to check you?” I shook my head. “OK, it’s not like I can do much in here to change you anyway.” He let my arm go and gently patted my butt as I toddled back to Rett. By the time I got there they were just putting the last connecting pipe in place. “Want to do the honours?” they asked, nodding to the wheel on the outlet. “No! You did all the work. You should do it” I replied. They grinned, “I guess so”, they said, as they made their way to the wheel and turned it. Their gait had become really unsteady, and they had a noticeable waddle from their pee-soaked diaper. I wondered whether I was that obviously soaked as well. Before I could give it much thought though, Rett turned the wheel, and a spray of glitter poured down from the top of each of the tanks while strobe lights flashed inside them. After a few moments the lights in the tanks went back on. The plants in two of them were completely charred and blackened. The other had singed plants on one side, but the other was unnscathed. After our eyesight recovered, and we took a moment to marvel at what we’d just witnessed, our attention was drawn back to the video screen, “So I have bad news and worse news” The Guy from Mission Control was back, “You’ve stopped the fire, but we’ve lost 60% of the plant capacity, and the fire suppression powder is clogging up the filters. That means you’ve got about 100 minutes of useable oxygen before the air becomes unbreathable.” A countdown timer appeared at the bottom of the screen, “but that’s the less bad news. The bad news is that the ion engines have failed, and if you don’t fix them the station is going to hurtle back to earth. On it’s current course it will hit somewhere in Europe. The exact location is classified, but if you’ve planned a holiday in Paris it’s probably worth canceling it.” We headed back out into the hallway. At one end a light had turned on above a door marked, ‘ENGINE ROOM’. I grabbed Rett’s hand and led them down the hallway, although as we were both waddling due to our bulky padding, Daddy and Maya had less trouble keeping up with us. Inside the room was a stack of thin metal cylinders, each about three inches in diameter and two feet long. There was also a separate stack of hexagonal blocks, a similar diameter but a third of the length. On the other side of the room there were two seats like the ones on the shuttle, with VR headsets resting on top of them. Once again the video screen flickered and our briefing began. “You’re going to need to divide into two teams,” The Guy from Mission Control, looking far more wary now than he had done at the start of our adventure. “One team will be using the EVA headsets to control robots outside the station. Their task is to fix the leaks in the engine fuel lines. The other team will need to carefully remove the empty fuel cylinders and discharged battery blocks, and replace them with new units from storage. But be careful, There we’re reading a fault in the wiring, so if the casings of the batteries or fuel cylinders make contact with the containment unit walls, you will short out the power and blow up the station. No pressure though.” Rett was staring at the seats even before we walked in. They loved video games, and had been wanting to try VR for ages. They’d have probably been better at doing the cylinder puzzle than any of the rest of us, but there was no way I was going to take this away from them, “Daddy and I can do the cylinders” I volunteered, “want a hand getting strapped into the chair, Rett?” Their eyes lit up. “Don’t you want to try the VR?” Daddy asked me. “Yeah, but I think Rett would probably have more fun doing it with Maya” I replied. Daddy rubbed my back, “You’re a very good kitty” he whispered in my ear. I shivered a little, and grinned like a crazy person. Maya and Rett sat themselves down on the seats, while Daddy and I slipped the headsets over their heads, and handed them the controllers. Then we moved over to the cylinders. “We’ll have to be careful” Daddy cautioned, “Or we’ll end up cutting their game short”. One of the walls in the room held the ‘in use’ cylinders and batteries. The ends of the containers jutted out from the wall slightly, and each had an unlit LED next to it. “How do we get them out?” Daddy wondered aloud I looked at the ends, each of them had four notches cut into them. “I think there’s some sort of grabbing tool that we need to use. The other question is how we tell which ones need to be swapped out? The LEDs are probably indicators, but they all seem to be off” I hadn’t noticed, but Daddy had stepped away while I was speaking. When he came back he had a claw for grabbing the cylinders, and a fairly nondescript black box with a handle. “Look what I found” he said. He was grinning. I took the box off of him and began waving it just in front of the cylinder ends. As I did the LEDs started lighting up. Some green, some red. “Ooh, I think it’s done with EM fields” I said “What?” asked Daddy. “The box sends a small magnetic field out, and that powers a circuit that lights the LEDs up.” I explained, “It’s really clever”. “So are you.” Daddy replied. I moved the box to the top left hand side of the wall and started systematically moving it across the cylinders. The third one I got to had a red LED. “This one needs changing” I announced, “Really? I thought you could probably last a bit longer” Daddy joked. Then he grabbed the end of the cylinder with the grippers and gently eased it out of the wall. He went slowly, and supported the bottom of it with his hand as it came out. Depositing the cylinder on the ground, he picked up a new one, and lifted it in. “These are heavier than they look” He complained. “Yeah, I agreed. “They will be because you’re having to lift them from the end”. We continued, with me finding cylinders to change, and Daddy removing and replacing them. It took a while, but eventually we succeeded. All without ‘frying the station’ and ending the game. Once it was complete we moved over to where Rett and Maya were. They were just finishing up, and Rett had a big grin on their face. “How was it?” I asked. “AMAZING!” Rett enthused, bouncing out of the chair. “I didn’t think we were going to do it, because I dropped a spanner and it started floating away, but Maya fired her thrusters, grabbed the spanner and threw it back to me.” Maya took a little bow. Then the video started playing. “Well, you’ve saved Paris” The Guy said, before producing a party popper and setting it off, “And look at that, you’ve got over an hour to work out what happened. Loads of time. We can’t download the logs from here, as they’re isolated from the system, but they’re probably the best place to start. And we’ll be able to monitor them once you begin watching them. You’ll find them in the ops room”. “I guess we’re going back to ops then,” Daddy said. As we walked back down the hallway, Rett looked at the doors that still hadn’t opened, “I wonder what’s behind those?” “I’m sure we’ll find out soon” Maya replied. In the ops room we couldn’t see a console marked ‘LOGS’, but there was one marked ‘PLAYBACK’, which had a USB port and a box of thumb drives beside it marked ‘logs’. I grabbed a drive at random and put it in the port. It started playing. On the screen was a woman with close-cropped, dark hair. She had an air of authority. “Since the incident, Reeve’s behavior has been getting worse” she explained, “I don’t know whether it’s because he’s worried about a possible infection, or something to do with the contamination itself, but he’s rude, aggressive, and has come close to violence. I’m giving it 24 hours, and if things haven’t calmed down I’m ordering an evac for him.” This was clearly from partway through whatever had happened. I pulled the drive out, grabbed another from the box and inserted it in. It was the same woman: “Reeves and I were checking his PPE gear back into storage, and we noticed a slight nick in one of the outer gloves. It’s probably nothing, he wouldn’t have made contact with the slime, but it’s still worried me a little. He’s agreed to spend the night in medical for observation, and we’ll address it when we’re less exhausted.” I swapped the drive out for another. The screen filled with an image of the operations room, shot from one of the security cameras. Several of the crew were busy working, including the woman who had been making the logs. Then the door opened and a tall guy walked in. It might have been a glitch on the recording, but it almost looked like his hands were on fire. Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and looked at him. He walked up to each person in turn, completely calmly, and as he got to them, they burst into flames. Once the screen went black I took a moment to collect myself from the shock of what I’d seen and changed out the thumb drive again. The woman, who I’d come to assume was the station’s commander, was back. “We’ve found some sort of residue built up around the vents for the filtration system,” the Commander explained, “It’s probably innocuous, but it doesn’t look like the usual grime that collects on the station, and no one can recall seeing it yesterday. I’ve asked Reeves to collect some samples and take them to medical” The screen went black. Just before I could replace the drive, it came on again, “Reeves has successfully collected a sample. Frankly that’s an understatement. He cleared what he could find and filled eleven containers worth. I’ve had one container taken to medical for analysis, and the rest I’ve locked up in the storage closet in ops until we know what we’re dealing with” I glanced at Rett, who had clearly already seen the door marked “STORAGE”, and was walking towards it. As they got close to the door it started banging from the inside. Rett stopped dead, started to whimper, then darted to Maya, giving her a big hug. I’d gone white, and as I calmed down a little I realised I was grasping Daddy’s hand. Then I started laughing. “Well that was horrible” I said, breaking the tension. Maya was stroking Rett’s hair, although even they were laughing as well. “Maybe we should check out Medical” Rett suggested, “I’d rather not find out what’s behind that door.” “Will we be able to get into it? Maya asked, “So far they’ve opened the doors of the rooms they want us to go in”. Daddy shrugged, “Only one way to find out”. He led us out of the room and down the hallway. When we got to the door marked ‘MEDICAL’ he pushed the button beside the door. It slid open. “Guess we’re allowed in,” he said. Inside it looked trashed. There were beds on their sides, smashed up sample containers and equipment scattered everywhere. “Are we looking for anything in particular in here?” asked Maya “I don’t know” I replied, “Nothing I can think of” “I don’t think there will be anything in here” Rett explained, “They would have given us clear instruction if it was part of the game, I just wanted to take a look before we got to the end” I noticed a glass cylinder on the ground, buried under some of the scattered detritus. It was filled with a black, jelly-like substance. I gently nudged it with my foot, “guess that’s the sample then” I said. As I moved, I felt my tummy lurch. I was really enjoying myself, but if we didn’t get to the end pretty soon I was going to have a major accident, “where next?” I asked. “The crew rooms?” Rett suggested, “We haven’t looked in there yet, and there might be more clues.” We moved into the crew accommodation - a fairly small room with eight capsule-like bunks in two banks either side. We began with the top bunk on the left hand side, and drew the curtain on each in turn. The first two were empty, but the third had a mannequin in it, covered in fake blood. If we hadn’t had the shock in the ops room it probably would have been upsetting, but as it was it just kind of made us all chuckle. “He doesn’t seem very well” Daddy joked. Which made me groan. There were two more ‘bodies’ both equally bloody in two of the other bunks.Beside one of them was a hardback notepad, with a cover that read ‘EMERGENCY CREW LOG BOOK’. I picked it up, and opened it. There were only two entries. I began to read the first one to everyone, “Mission Log, Day 42 - We have sealed ourselves into the accommodation. Reeves has taken control of operations, and has The Commander, Matthews, Radjek, Upesh and Huang with him. We have noidea about their condition, or if they’re even alive. He has destroyed medical, almost completely, deactivated the Escape Pod, and set traps in the Hydroponics. One of those traps has severely injured Magnusdottir, and she’s in critical condition. Njeri and I are planning to try to enter ops, and restrain Reeves shortly”. I paused a little before moving on to the next log, “We have restrained Reeves. In doing so both Njeri and I have been seriously injured. I’ve done what I can to stabilise both of us, but nothing I can do will stop the bleeding. Unless we get some sort of miracle, we won’t survive the night.” As I finished reading the log an alert siren started ringing, and the lighting in the room, as well as the hallway changed to flashing orange. An automated voice came from hidden speakers in the room, asking us to, “PLEASE PROCEED TO THE OPERATIONS ROOM”. It seemed the ‘mission’ was coming to its end. I was pleased about that. I was beginning to sweat a little as the strain of holding took its toll. From the look on Rett’s face, they were in a similar position. I suspect Daddy had noticed the struggle I was going through as well. He smiled, held his hand toward the door, and said, “shall we?”, and as I passed him, he gave me a gentle patt on my butt. When we got to operations, the door to the store cupboard was open. Inside were several containers, like the one in Medical, each with the same black jelly. Several of them were broken, “I dare you to try it,” I joked to Rett, which caused them to giggle. After a moment of examining the cupboard, Maya drew our attention over to the Playback console. The drives in the box had all gone. In their place was a single drive on top of the console. Maya plugged it into the usb port. The screen began playback. It was showing the exterior of the station, with a transport shuttle attached. Slowly the shuttle undocked, and began to float away. When the playback ended, the video screen in the corner of the room crackled back into life showing the Guy from Mission Control, “Congratulations Rescue Team.” he began,” You’ve stopped the station crashing to earth, and you’ve gathered lots of evidence for what happened to the crew. Unfortunately it seems the shuttle that should be taking you back has… detached itself from the station. We’re not sure how that’s happened, but don’t worry, we do have an escape pod. You’re just going to need to fix the bits that were.. disabled by the crew member who had difficulties. Please proceed to the ENGINE ROOM where we will brief you. And not to make worry too much, you have ten minutes of oxygen left.” As he was speaking I felt my control slip even further, and a fart escaped without me being able to do anything about it. It was silent, but the smell was awful. Daddy leaned over to me, “have you made a stinky in your diaper?” he whispered. I shook my head, “just gas Daddy, I promise.” He didn’t seem entirely convinced, as I looked very uncomfortable, but he let it slide. In truth my discomfort was from how hard I was fighting to avoid an accident. But I thought I would be able to hold it for the next ten minutes. We got to the engineering room, and the Guy from Mission Control was on the screen again to brief us: “The damage to the escape pods is minor”, he explained, “but has caused issue with the holding clamps. Two of your team will need to use the EVA robots to make the repairs. Rett’s eyes lit up at the prospect of a second go with the VR, then they paused, “Would you guys like a go this time,” they offered, “it only seems fair.” Daddy waved his hand, “I’m OK thanks” he said, then gestured to me and Rett, “I think you guys would enjoy it most if you did it together” No one needed to tell us twice. Rett and I jumped into the seats, and Maya and Daddy helped us with the headsets. It was sooo cool. I looked around, and as I did I could see the parts of the robot. The arms moved when I moved the controllers I was holding, and it felt like I was floating in space. Then I heard Rett’s voice in my ear, through the headset’s interlink “What do you think?” they asked, “It’s so cool” I replied, “I had no idea it was going to feel like this” “Yep. incredible, isn’t it?” they continued. “Now press the thruster button on the controller, and let’s go fix the escape pod” I watched as Rett, or at least, their robot, floated away from the station, then thrusted around it heading in the direction of the escape pod, which was marked by an arrow on the display. I tapped the button on my left controller to trigger the retro thrustor and moved away from the station, then tapped the button on the right to fire the forward thruster and followed them. We reached the escape pod, selected the cutting attachment on our robots, and set about removing the clamps holding the pod in place. I was having so much fun, and so lost in what I was doing that I forgot I was meant to be holding. I felt my stomach lurch and cramp, and then it was too late. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop it. Mushy mess began to leak out, a small amount at first, then a flood. The resistance of the chair causing it to squish all though my diaper. The mess was bad, but the smell was worse. Rett’s voice came through my ear again, “Have you had an accident?” “Mmmhmmm” I whimpered, still trying to cut virtual clamps as my mind dropped into little space from my accident. “So have I” they continued, “it’s OK”. That helped. I focused as best as I could, and we managed to cut the escape pod free. It took us a minute more to get the robots back to the station, then we removed the headsets. As I took mine off I found Daddy standing over me, “Is someone a stinky butt?” he asked. It was a redundant question, it was incredibly obvious I’d pooped my diaper. I nodded in response anyway, too dazed from the combination of the VR and the accident to do much more. He reached down and helped me out of the seat, “We’ll get you cleaned up as soon as we’re done kiddo” he reassured me. I was in a daze as the final video message flashed up. It was The Guy from Mission Control again, “Congratulations EVA team, you’ve managed to free the escape pod. Unfortunately we’ve seen something on the camera feed. It seems Reeves is still on the station. You need to go. Now! Run!” The door to the Engine Room slid open, as did a door across the hallway with a sign reading ‘ESCAPE POD’ above it. Rett and Maya led the way, Rett waddling more than they had been before. Daddy and I followed. Daddy kept his gentle grip on my arm as I was still pretty spacey. As we crossed through the hallway I looked toward the airlock doors. They were open, and a figure was standing in them. I couldn’t see properly, the lighting was behind him, but it seemed like his hands were on fire. We reached the ‘escape pod’ and the door slid shut behind us. There were eight seats around the room, the same as in the ‘shuttle’. Maya and Rett were already sitting down and strapped in. Daddy helped ease me down into one, then took the seat next to me. As soon as we strapped in the seats began to judder, the lights in the room flashed, and a rumbling noise came over the speakers. Then some triumphant music began to play, the lights came up, and the door at the back of the room slid open. I was riding high from the victory, and the mixture of emotions. Daddy had to unbuckle my safety strap so I could get out of the chair. We walked toward the door, where a guy was waiting to congratulate us. He looked a little confused when Rett walked past him, noticing the slight smell from their diaper. Then I walked past. And the look on his face made it very clear there was no hiding what I’d done. We emerged back into the mall complex, and it was packed. Both Rett and I became very shy, very quickly, aware of how obvious it was that we were messy. At least Rett had the advantage of being around me, and the smell of my diaper would likely cloak theirs. Daddy and Maya took the lead, holding our hands and guiding us through the throng of people, and straight to the bathrooms. Maya then took Rett and I into the accessible bathroom while Daddy went to get the my changing bag from our car. Away from people, the excitement from the escape room took back over, and Rett and I began to talk about the experience. “Did you see the guy at the end?” Maya joined in, “I honestly thought we were going to die!” “And the banging in the closet” Rett added, glancing down at their diaper, “I had a bit of an accident then too”. Just as I was about to reply, there was a knock at the door. Rett yelped a little. “It’s me” Daddy’s voice came through the door. Rett sighed with relief, which made Maya and me giggle. I unlocked the door and let him in. “Phew. You two stinky butts really need a change” he said, as he came in. He put the diaper bag down, and laid a changing mat on the floor. “Who’s first?” I looked over at Rett, they were being shy again.”I will, Daddy” I offered. I stepped forward, and Daddy undid the button on my jeans and eased them down my legs, “Step out please” he asked. I did as I was told. He then reached up and unsnapped the buttons on my romper. As he did, my diaper sagged down. . “On the mat please kiddo” Daddy said. I crouched down, then eased myself onto the mat, feeling the mess squelch against my butt as it did. Then I laid down and Daddy began the change. As he untapped the diaper, the smell filled the room. I felt my cheeks warm up form the shame of having such a stinky diaper changed in front of our friends, the sense of humiliation was almost overwhelming. It was wonderful. I have no idea how long the change took, I was far too spacey to keep track, but eventually Daddy slipped a clean diaper underneath me - without additional padding this time - and taped it closed. Then he helped me up and gave me a hand getting dressed again. As he did, Maya had Rett lay on the mat and began their change. They looked so scared and uncomfortable. I crouched down and held their hand and stroked their hair..That seemed to relax them. After a few minutes they were in a clean and dry diaper, and we were ready to go. We walked out of the bathroom and headed back to our cars. As we walked, we passed the entrance to the arcade. “Shall we stay a little longer?” Daddy asked, glancing over ot it. “Yes!” I shouted, my voice full of enthusiasm. “It seems a shame to go home so early” Maya agreed. “Can I have an ice cream first please though Daddy?” I asked, “You did say I could have whatever treats I wanted.”.

This is a sequel to Baby's Unexpected Trip. --- Morning for Jackie always followed the same routine. At just about 7:00 in the morning, her mother would cheerfully burst into Jackie's nursery to wake her up. From there, she would waste little time in getting Jackie out of her crib and eventually downstairs and into the kitchen, where a highchair and a steaming bowl of supposedly yummy oatmeal waited for Jackie. If it was the weekend, this might be pushed back to 8 or even 9 if her mother decided to sleep in, but Jackie was always sure that this would be how her day would start. On most days, the routine continued. On weekdays, Jackie's mother would just be finishing feeding her oversized baby when Jackie's babysitter would come in for the day around 7:30. For the first six months of Jackie's second babyhood, her mother had stayed home with her constantly, but after some reflection she had decided that just because Baby Jackie needed to be cared for didn't mean that she had to give up her career to do so. Soon thereafter, she had once again returned to her law career, having hired a young woman Jackie only knew as Nanny Michelle to provide care for Jackie while she and her husband were at work. Most weekdays, Jackie wound up only seeing her parents for a few minutes in the morning and a few minutes in the afternoon. With Jackie's 7:00 bedtime, her mother usually only got home in time for the end of Jackie's dinner and then bath time before Jackie went to bed. Her father was often lucky if he even got home before 7 at all, as he had a longer commute. The result was that, five days a week, Nanny was the true authority that Jackie had to deal with, and in many ways she was the one who had dictated Jackie's routine for the last several months. Most days though, the routine followed a fairly similar pattern to the one that it had followed when Jackie's mother had still been the one who kept her as a baby. Nanny would usually feed Jackie her bottles with breakfast while her parents got ready for work and then hit the road for the day. In the meantime, Jackie would be changed out of her soaked overnight diaper and prepared for another humiliating but also uneventful day of being an adult baby. Though Nanny was somehow even better at humiliating Jackie than her mother had been, Jackie still found that most of the day was just an exercise in avoiding boredom. It was only a fairly rare occasion that saw the routine interrupted. This Tuesday morning, however, was to be one of those days for Jackie. Her father had already left and her mother had just planted a kiss on her forehead on the way out as she slurped down the last of her formula when Nanny broke the news that today would break the normal pattern for Jackie. “When you are finished we are going to change you into something all nice and pretty. Your friend Tori and her Nanny are coming over for a visit. Aren't you excited?” With the bottle still in her mouth, Jackie couldn't respond, though she probably would not have been expected to either way. Still, she was glad of the excuse, because this way she didn't have to try to feign enthusiasm. Play dates were desperately strange affairs. Since Nanny Michelle had begun babysitting for Jackie, the circle of “friends” that Jackie had had expanded from one girl, Stephanie, to a total of four. By now, Jackie was participating in these meetings about every other week, but she still found them to be the most bizarre and awkward thing in the world. Before the first time that she had had a play date with Stephanie, she would never have believed that there was a single other person out there who was experiencing the same strange treatment that she was. After several play dates with Stephanie, she had known that there had been at least one other out there (and in her neighborhood) but she still assumed that they were isolated cases. But, best as she could tell, Stephanie's nanny had gotten Nanny Michelle in touch with some more of Stephanie's “friends'” caregivers, and now Jackie had no idea what to think about how many other women shared her predicament. Jackie didn't have misgivings about play dates because they weren't fun: they weren't fun, but nothing about being her parents' big baby was fun. She also didn't have any problem with any of the girls, or at least not really. What was really awkward about them was that she didn't know anything about the girls that she was supposed to be friends with, and she couldn't. All of the girls that she played with were under similar rules as she was, and were not really allowed to talk, and certainly never at anything beyond the most babyish and superficial levels. The news that Tori would be coming today promised a particular level of awkwardness that could not be replicated with any of the other babies that Jackie had met during her nearly a year of enforced infancy. She had decided that she liked Stephanie the best, probably because they had played together the most often and had developed a little bit more of an understanding of what would happen when they met than she had developed with any of the other girls. Beyond that, she could at least commiserate with Shelly and Martha, as they were both seemingly about the same age that Jackie was and seemingly had somewhat similar stories, even if why they had been reintroduced to infancy was unknown to Jackie. But Tori was different. As far as Jackie could tell she was at least in her late thirties, though Jackie would believe it if she found out she was even a little older than that. Her maturity made it hard for Jackie to think of her in the same way that she thought of herself and the other unfortunate women, and, at least for her, made the play dates even more awkward. Soon Nanny pulled the bottle out from between her lips and used the clean corners of her bib to wipe the stray oatmeal off of her face. “Time to get down,” she announced as she removed the highchair's tray and grabbed Jackie by her sides and slid her feet to the floor. Jackie didn't need to be told what to do next. She quickly dropped down to her hands and knees and began the crawling procession up the stairs and back into her nursery. When Nanny had arrived on the scene, Jackie's mother had decided to alter the morning routine somewhat by putting off Jackie's morning change until after breakfast. Jackie had to admit that the change made sense, even if she would have preferred to get out of her sopping wet, extra thick nighttime diaper as soon as possible. Her mother had reasoned that the diaper would definitely make it through breakfast, and that by having Nanny change her she would be able to feed Jackie her oatmeal and still have time to get ready for work herself. She also said that any food that missed her bib would just trickle onto her nightwear, which was usually a footed sleeper or a nighty, both of which were easier to clean and less fancy than most of the baby clothes that Jackie wore during the day. Food didn't often miss Jackie's bib, but there were enough little stains on all of her clothes to make it clear that it did happen enough to be considered a possibility. In the nursery, Nanny quickly boosted Jackie into a sitting position on the changing table. She unzipped Jackie's plain, pastel yellow footed sleeper and took it off, instructing Jackie to lay back on the table as she deposited the sleeper into the hamper for washing. Jackie knew there was no reason not to comply, especially when she would get a clean diaper out of the bargain, and did as she was told. Nanny was all business with the first change of the day, quickly getting Jackie's diaper untaped and pulling it back to reveal a thoroughly yellowed front panel and Jackie's perfectly hairless crotch. Nanny deftly grabbed both of Jackie's ankles in her left hand and lifted Jackie's legs high in the air, bringing Jackie's bottom off of the soaking wet diaper for the first time in several hours. With her free hand, Nanny grabbed a wipe from the nearby container and set to work cleaning Jackie up. She began in the front, and the cold wipe caused Jackie to squirm a bit, involuntarily wiggling and slightly kicking her feet, though Nanny had little trouble holding onto them. Deliberately or not, Nanny misinterpreted the response. “Oh you naughty little girl, don't get excited just because Nanny is wiping your little pee-pee! What a little devil you are.” Jackie blushed a thousand shades of red. Nanny Michelle was a master of humiliation, and one of her best tricks was to use Jackie's sexuality against her. Unlike her first several months of babified frustration, Jackie was occasionally now allowed to achieve orgasm under Nanny's watchful eye. However, while it was extremely pleasurable in the moment, Nanny used it as a tool to keep Jackie thoroughly humiliated. She would spend days making comments clearly designed to make Jackie increasingly desirous of release without ever allowing Jackie that moment of pleasure that was forbidden without express permission, only to then allow Jackie some form of release in a manner that was sure to somehow confirm Jackie's babyish status and make her wish soon after that she had resisted the temptation. In this morning's case, Jackie had not really been aroused, though she noted that Nanny had definitely been trying to turn her mind to sexual thoughts for much of the last week through a number of subtle and not-so-subtle hints. Her suggestion just now had worked. Even in her embarrassment, Jackie became somewhat aroused, and suddenly Nanny's gentle wiping of her crotch was sending small shivers through Jackie's body that had little to do with the coldness of the wipe. Nanny clearly had no intention of letting Jackie reach a climax though, and after just a few short moments a frustrated Jackie was powdered and taped into a thirsty new diaper. She once again helped Jackie up into a seated position with her legs dangling over the side of the changing table. Nanny retreated to the closet and searched for an outfit for Jackie to wear. Play dates were a special occasion for Jackie, and so she was always dressed up in some of her nicest (and most humiliating) outfits for the occasions. She was almost always dressed in something that made her look like a simpering little girl, but at least at home she might once in a while be placed in just a simple onesie that didn't leave her feeling like she was someone's doll. On Nanny's return, Jackie could see that she was indeed carrying an outfit that would be very festive and very humiliating. Nanny set down a dress next to Jackie on the table and set to work pulling up a pair of white tights over Jackie's legs. The tights were mostly plain, but on the back they had several rows of frills that stretched over her bottom and generated some extra emphasis to Jackie's diapered behind. Next came the dress. It was a fairly neutral pink color, and nothing that Jackie found too loud. It clung tightly to her chest and gathered with a single row of white lace on each arm. What Jackie really didn't like was the bottom. Really only just below her breasts began a comically large white tutu. The bottom of the garment just barely stretched to the somewhat high waistline of Jackie's tights, leaving her diapers painfully visible, which caused Jackie distress even though she knew that everyone who would be at the house today would be fully expecting Jackie to be both wearing and using diapers. Nanny then went to work with accessories. She added a plain white bonnet with a frilled brim to the top of Jackie's head, tying the lace straps into a comically large bow under Jackie's chin and leaving her entire face framed by white lace, with her hair hanging down in a pair of ponytails that came out of each side of the bonnet. Next Nanny added a pair of white, high-top shoes over Jackie's feet. She switched out the red pacifier that Jackie had been sucking for a pink binky that better matched the dress. Finally, Nanny produced a pair of white mittens for Jackie to wear. With a sigh, Jackie held out each hand and allowed Nanny to tie them tightly onto each hand. Jackie didn't often wear mittens, but she hated when she did. They gave her only a minimal ability to move her fingers autonomously, and left her unable to lift even the dolls and blocks she spent her day idly playing with without very carefully using two hands, which Nanny loved to watch and comment on. Dressed to the nines, Jackie was slid off the changing table and crawled back to the top of the stairs, where she flipped positions and bumped down on her bottom as she was supposed to. As was the default in the morning, she made her way to her playpen to begin “playing.” Once Jackie got into the playpen, Nanny made an announcement. “Your friend will be here in about an hour, baby, so Nanny is going to work out now before we have to entertain our guests.” With that, Nanny slightly lifted one end of the playpen and began rolling it out of the living room. The oversized device had wheels on one end so that it could be moved somewhat like a wheelbarrow in the case that whoever was watching Jackie wanted to have her be in a different room. Nanny had free use of the family's quite nice home gym, so she frequently made use of the wheels and brought Jackie into the gym so that she kept out of trouble during workouts. Arriving in the gym, Jackie was set off to the side while Nanny set to work. Jackie watched Nanny exercise almost daily, and it reminded her of just how much of a specimen Nanny was. When they had first met, Jackie had immediately guessed that part of the reason her parents had chosen her to babysit was her physical presence. Though Jackie was no more than an inch or two shorter than average, Nanny was more than a head taller than her even when Jackie was standing. Given that Jackie spent most of her time on the floor, however, she was often looking way up at Nanny, who would seem to tower over her when Jackie had been naughty and was forced to make eye contact as Nanny scolded her. Beyond her height though, Nanny was one of the stronger women Jackie had ever met. Her muscularity was somewhat clear at first glance, but watching her exercise, it was beyond apparent. She could absolutely manhandle weights Jackie couldn't imagine lifting, and her legs and core were clearly especially strong. If Jackie had had any doubt about Nanny's strength, it had been dismissed the first time that Nanny had picked her up. Though Jackie wasn't heavy by any means, her 120 or so pounds were more than either of her parents would even consider trying to lift, and so Jackie had been more than a little surprised when Nanny had first done it. Now it was a somewhat regular occurrence and Nanny had even acquired a device that allowed her to carry Jackie on her chest while out walking or hiking, though she had only used it a handful of times because there was little practical need to be carrying Jackie around for long periods of time and it was fairly difficult to get set up since Jackie couldn't easily be lifted into it while Nanny was already wearing it the way that a real baby would be. From Jackie's perspective, the less use the device got, the better. In order for it to be at all feasible to walk in for Nanny, it had to make up for the fact that Jackie's legs were in the way, which it did by forcing her knees to bend up and wide of her body in a way that reminded Jackie of a wider version of a baseball catcher's crouch. The result was that Jackie's bottom, supported by the sturdy carrying device, would hang just below Nanny's waist and her feet would dangle near her hips, while Jackie's head would be stuck facing Nanny a few inches below her chin. The position was extremely uncomfortable, but also extremely embarrassing, as Jackie was stuck in direct contact with Nanny and not even able to see who might be looking at her in her extraordinarily babyish position. Watching Nanny Michelle work out didn't just remind Jackie of how strong the imposing young woman was. It also reminded Jackie of how weak she was at the moment. While she had certainly never been a powerlifter or anything of the sort, in her prime Jackie had been a pretty good high school athlete and had always prided herself on being fit. Now though, after a year in which she hadn't so much as walked more than a few steps a day, Jackie's body was a shell. She hadn't really gained any weight, but she had lost virtually all muscle tone and was left with only a little more strength than she had had in grade school. If she were allowed to grow up tomorrow, Jackie imagined she would probably have to go through the process of really learning how to walk again, much like a toddler, which was a totally chilling realization and almost made her dread such an occurrence (though not enough that she didn't want the chance to grow up once more). With the guests coming, Nanny kept her workout fairly short, though to Jackie it was still thoroughly impressive. Nanny was no more than a little sweaty, so she decided that she was alright without a full shower. Instead she quickly took a towel and dabbed a little sweat, then she removed her shirt and applied some deodorant. Whenever this happened in front of Jackie, she couldn't help but stare. She wasn't sexually attracted to Nanny, but her impressive figure was like a magnet, and Jackie could only look on jealously before Nanny put on another shirt that she had brought for just this instance and then wheeled Jackie back out into the living room. Jackie busied herself trying to find amusement in a doll to pass the time before Tori arrived, while Nanny moved around the living room and kitchen taking care of a few small messes and then attending to her messages on her phone. It wasn't too long before the doorbell rang. Jackie didn't need to be told, but Nanny still announced “Ooh, baby, that must be your friend!” Jackie wasn't expected to go anywhere, and so she stayed put in her playpen while Nanny went to the door. Waiting, Jackie found her heart racing, not from excitement but from dread. Play dates represented a deviation from the routine that left her thoroughly bored, but they also put Jackie in scenarios that opened her up to the potential for intense levels of humiliation that were unlikely to be reached on a normal day unless Nanny was in particularly devastating form. It wasn't long until Jackie could hear the party returning to the living room. Looking up she saw that Nanny Michelle had actually carried Tori into the room, holding her on her hip with just one hand supporting a rather scared looking Tori around the waist while Tori's legs wrapped rather tightly around Nanny's torso. Jackie couldn't blame her. The first several times Nanny had lifted her she hadn't been confident that she could hold her, and Tori was even a little bit bigger than Jackie was. Following closely behind Nanny Michelle and Tori was Tori's own babysitter, Miss Ashley. Jackie didn't really know much about her, but then again she really didn't need to. From what Jackie could tell though, Miss Ashley was much closer to her age than to Tori's. If she had to guess, Jackie would say that she was probably about 27. She suspected that having a babysitter so much younger than her was a point that only reinforced the misery of Tori's situation to her. Miss Ashley had tastefully tan skin and long auburn hair that hung down to the middle of her back in a loose pony tail. At maybe 5'6 on a good day, she was really no bigger than her charge, and she didn't seem to possess the same insane level of strength that Nanny did, but Jackie could tell that despite her lack of a bullying physical presence she had Tori completely under her thumb. Miss Ashley moved into the room and immediately came over to the playpen where Jackie was sitting uselessly on the canvas floor surrounded by her infantile distractions. She bent over the side and gave Jackie a kiss on the forehead. “I love that dress! You look so cute I could eat you up!” she said, pinching Jackie's cheeks as she did in what Jackie was almost sure could pass as a parody of how adults greeted actual tots. “Do you have a kiss for Miss Ashley?” Jackie didn't really want to give Miss Ashley a kiss, but she knew that the question was really a command, and so she tilted her head up so that Miss Ashley could remove her pacifier and then planted her open mouth on Miss Ashley's offered cheek, shouting “MMMAAH” as she rather deliberately left a little more saliva behind with her tongue than was strictly necessary. “Good girl,” Miss Ashley responded, planting one more kiss on Jackie's forehead before replacing the rubber nipple in Jackie's mouth and stepping back. Nanny quickly stepped over to the edge of the playpen and deftly swung Tori around so that she had a hand in each armpit and then lowered her down into the playpen. The middle-aged baby looked glad just to be on solid ground again, even if that ground was the canvas floor of an oversized playpen. “Oh, you two must be so excited! Go ahead and give each other a big hug,” commanded Miss Ashley. Not needing to get themselves in trouble so early in the morning, Jackie and Tori quickly got to their knees and began to move towards each other, locking eyes with looks that were half sympathetic and half apologetic. They soon gave each other squeezes with feigned enthusiasm. Jackie began to let go, but Tori was still squeezing, so she quickly wrapped her arms back around her, only to have Tori start to let go herself. It was always difficult to know how long a hug that was almost entirely for show should last. Nanny Michelle reached into the playpen once more and removed Jackie's pacifier once again. “Now a biiiiig kiss,” she ordered. This was the weirdest part of the greeting ritual at play dates for sure. They leaned in once more, hugging again as they were supposed to, but this time their heads did not go onto each others' shoulder, but rather their faces came in, both straight up with their chins extended somewhat so that they would not hit noses, which both had learned in the past was an awkward hazard of trying to platonically kiss on the lips. Their mouths met wide open with their tongues stuck slightly out, almost as if they had been told how to make out with someone but hadn't quite been able to picture it and were doing it wrong. They both began an overly exaggerated kissing noise, practically all of which was muffled by the fact that their tongues were touching and the sound was mostly reverberating in their open mouths. Still, Nanny Michelle and Miss Ashley were more than satisfied with the ridiculous spectacle and played their parts well by giving adoring “Awws” as the babied women pulled back. Nanny reached into the playpen once more, reinserting Jackie's trusty pacifier into her mouth. Meanwhile, Miss Ashley reached into the baby bag that she had brought for Tori and produced a small wooden box with shapes cut out of one side, which Jackie could soon see was one of those toys designed to teach toddlers about shapes by having them put small blocks through the corresponding holes in the box. “I brought your favorite toy, Tori, but you have to share with Baby Jackie. Why don't you take one turn and then she can take one turn? Doesn't that sound fun?” The way that Tori's face immediately contorted into a frown and a blush told Jackie that the toy might not really be a favorite of her companion, but to Jackie the toy seemed at least a little more involved than most of the ones that she had, so she wasn't totally going to complain. Besides, it gave them something they were supposed to be doing, which erased the awkwardness of having to figure out how to pass the time cooped up in a playpen together. As she walked over to the couch to join Nanny, Jackie heard Miss Ashley say “I swear sometimes she plays with that toy the whole day long. She's pretty smart for such a little baby!” which caused Nanny to fall into a fit of giggles. Tori turned the box so that the one side that had a large opening in the bottom was facing downwards causing the plastic blocks of various shapes to fall to the floor. Jackie could now hear that each of the blocks doubled as a little rattle as well. Tory placed the box between them and dutifully took her turn, drawing some vague noises of praise from the caregivers across the room. Jackie reached for the box and rolled it onto its side so that the pieces fell out, then flipped it back upright. The task was extremely menial. There was a circle, a square, a triangle, and a star, and a corresponding hole for each. But as Jackie tried to pick up the fairly small shapes, she remembered that her mittens were going to be a problem. It took Jackie two hands to pick up the small circle, but it slipped out of the gloves before she could get it to its destination, so she was forced to try again. This time, she pinched it between her two hands and then turned her hands so that her right hand was cradling the little disc. She brought it over, but realized she couldn't really transfer the object from her palm to the hole without the use of her thumb, which was pinned uselessly next to the rest of her fingers and couldn't grasp a thing. Still, she let the block slide off onto the top of the box, and she was able to push the block from there easily into the correct hole. She repeated that procedure a little more gracefully with the square and the star, leaving her only the triangle, which she duly picked up and deposited on top of the box. However, as it slid off of her hand it went straight through the square-shaped hole, which Jackie hadn't even realized was the same size as the triangle only twice as large. Tori couldn't help herself. Though her eyes had a look of sympathy, she chuckled slightly at Jackie's misfortune. The babysitters had seen what had happened, and Miss Ashley quickly interjected. “Be nice, Tori, or you will find yourself in timeout,” she said forcefully. “Jackie hasn't played with this toy before, so she is just learning. Now give her a hug and say you are sorry.” Jackie was mortified at the suggestion that it was her intellect and not her ridiculous mittens that rendered her unable to solve this little puzzle, but she accepted the hug all the same. “Me sowwy, Jackie. Me will twy to be nice baby guwl,” spat out Tori in a ridiculous, high-pitched lisp. Jackie was both surprised and almost impressed with the thoroughness of the apology, though she assumed it was something that Tori had been trained to do, much like she was trained to give certain responses when one of her parents or her Nanny wanted her to. Tori's thumb quickly slipped back to her mouth, in a way that Jackie could only describe as reflexive. Jackie had never seen Tori sucking a pacifier, but like Jackie she seemed to have quite an oral fixation, with hers being directed towards her thumb. Even as she started to take her turn with the blocks, she did so with one hand, leaving her left hand in a ball below her nose with the thumb entirely hidden behind her lips. Jackie studied Tori as she took her turn. Her olive skin was framed by fairly short jet black hair that was pulled off of her face with a pastel green headband. The light green color was matched by the short and somewhat simple dress that she was wearing, which easily revealed her thirsty diaper below. She wore some black Mary-Janes on her feet, which were tucked behind her as she sat back on her knees on the playpen behind her. Even though Jackie could tell that she was older, Tori was also still pretty, and Jackie imagined she would be an attractive woman in more age-appropriate clothes. Her skin was pristine, and Jackie had noticed when she was laughing at her that she had a bright smile, though Jackie rarely had seen it in their previous two meetings, at least in part because Tori's thumb was always in the way of her mouth. It was soon Jackie's turn again. Though her ability to grip hadn't improved since the last time, she was a little more careful with the triangle and this time had little incident, which prompted a round of patronizing cheers from Nanny Michelle and Miss Ashley. Jackie and Tori settled quickly into a routine. The toy was really just about as mindless as any, but at least taking turns seemed to break the monotony and pass the time a little bit faster. Jackie could hear the two caregivers quietly talking and occasionally bursting into giggles, but they weren't easily understood and Jackie figured that if they wanted her and Tori to know something they would share it. Besides, they were probably just sharing favorite humiliating things that they had made their charges do lately, and Jackie honestly didn't want to hear that conversation. Soon Jackie was pulled up from behind by Nanny, while Miss Ashley similarly helped Tori from the playpen. Jackie hadn't realized that she had been so immersed in the stupid little toy, but she hadn't even noticed them come over. Immediately Jackie knew what was going to happen, and it filled her with a sinking feeling. “Time for morning snack,” Miss Ashley confirmed. Jackie was carried over to the couch while Tori was shuffled over as Miss Ashley held her hand and walked rather briskly across the room to the love seat near the sofa. Miss Ashley quickly popped a bottle into Tori's mouth, but Jackie knew that she was in for a different fate. While Jackie had initially suspected that Nanny Michelle had been selected for her size and physique, and still was pretty sure that was part of her parents' reasoning, she now recognized that what her parents liked most about her as a caregiver was her ability to lactate. Jackie didn't really understand how, as she was all but positive that Nanny Michelle did not have any children, but she could independently confirm that it was true. Her parents loved the idea. Jackie had first been breastfed by her cousin, who had a small child of her own, at a family reunion a few months into her second babyhood. Her parents had seemed to love how much it had bothered Jackie. Jackie had reacted so poorly that she had ended up being punished for several days afterwards and had actually used the threat of a wet nurse as a way to guarantee Jackie's cooperative behavior for weeks thereafter. Still, when Nanny had come aboard she would never have guessed that she would be drinking from her teats as she had from her cousin’s so many months before. At first Nanny had really only had a modest supply of milk, and it had to be supplemented with a bottle of formula just to make up a suitable morning snack for Jackie. However, her body had seemed to respond to the increased demand and now produced enough that she was able to pump out two bottles on each weekend day, which were refrigerated and brought to Jackie's house so that her parents could still feed Jackie breast milk even on Nanny's days off. Jackie had grown used to being breastfed, but she still hated it. The milk was different than formula, though it was no better or worse. What Jackie really hated was that she was subjected to the most basic affirmation of an infant's status on a daily basis. Drinking directly from Nanny's breasts made her directly comparable to the smallest of babies, even if she dwarfed them in terms of size. Being breastfed during a play date was even worse, though at this point it was a humiliation that Jackie was somewhat used to. Still, she could tell that all of the other girls stared at her as it happened, probably not having been breastfed themselves in decades and partly curious, though mostly disgusted to see Jackie partaking in the shameful act. Despite the humiliation, Jackie knew it was best to get to it, so when Nanny produced a nipple, Jackie quickly latched on and began the demeaning process of suckling it dry. Soon she was lost in her own world, only faintly aware of her surroundings as she was busily slurping away. Not long later, the first breast had been drained. Nanny quickly tucked it away and produced her other breast, which allowed Jackie to get on with her infantile feeding. But now Jackie had another worry, one that she had been having for several weeks now. One of Nanny's most effective ways of humiliating Jackie was to have her do it herself. Soon after she had arrived, she had instituted a rule requiring that at least twice a week and at least 5 times every two weeks, Jackie had to tell Nanny something that she liked about being in her care. It was the only time Jackie was ever really allowed to speak without being prompted, and in order to do so she always had to declare, “Nanny, me haff somefin me need to tell thoo” from behind her pacifier. At that point Nanny would remove Jackie's soother so that she could clearly tell her what it was she wanted to say. Nanny never prompted, but if Jackie failed to meet her quotas then she would be in for a round of devious punishment, with a common one being that Jackie would not be given permission to have any sexual release at all for the next two week period, even if it had already been quite a while since her last opportunity to do so. At first Jackie had been able to say relatively simple things like “Me wike when thoo change my diapies,” or “Me wike when thoo feed me my babas.” None of them were exactly true, but Nanny didn't really care about that as much as Jackie making a convincing display of saying them and taking the initiative to make the remarks in the first place. If Jackie came up with an absolute doozy, Nanny would occasionally even allow that remark to count as two, although Jackie could rarely think of anything to humiliate herself enough to reach that level. The problem was that Jackie was not allowed to ever say the same thing twice, so she was increasingly having to get more and more creative in order to keep Nanny satisfied. Several weeks ago, Jackie had figured out one that she was sure was a two-pointer. In fact, if she were the judge she would give it about 30, because it was sure to be her most humiliating comment to date. But it was so bad that she didn't want to use it. She had chickened out the first time it was ready to be used, and the last time she had already finished her points that she needed for the week. But today Jackie knew that she was in need of a Hail Mary. She had only made two comments last week, so she needed to earn three points this week. It was only Tuesday, but she hadn't come up with any yesterday, and while she hadn't been thinking too hard, she hadn't come up with anything else that would earn her a point, not to mention three things. As she was greedily sucking down her Nanny's milk, she resolved that now was the time to break it out. Tori had finished a few minutes before Jackie, as was usually the case when one of her peers was being bottle fed while she was breastfed, and was in the process of being burped when Jackie and Nanny simultaneously became aware that the supply of milk had reached its end. Nanny eased Jackie off the nipple and tucked it away, giving Jackie a quick squeeze before reaching for her pacifier. Just before it was put into her mouth, Jackie bit the bullet and almost in a whisper said “Nanny, me haff somefin me need to tell thoo,” desperately trying to keep Tori and Miss Ashley from hearing her humiliation. Nanny hadn't been born yesterday, however, and made sure everyone knew what was going on. “What was that baby?” she asked loudly and sharply, quickly drawing attention from the two guests even as Miss Ashley continued to try to coax a burp out of her charge. “You need to speak more loudly for Nanny to hear you.” Knowing that she was had and ready to just get it over with, Jackie spoke as loudly and clearly as her stupid lisp would allow. “Nanny, me haff somefin me need to tell thoo!” she said, as if there were a real urgency to the matter. “Oh, ok.” Nanny said. “You can do that baby, but first let me get you burped. I wouldn't want you to get sick and spit up your yummy milk everywhere.” With that, Nanny shoved the pacifier back into Jackie's gaping mouth and sat her on her knee so that her head rested on her shoulder. The suspense was now killing Jackie. She knew that Nanny had decided to purposely draw out the ordeal. Frankly, Jackie was almost impressed. She had never mustered the courage to pull one of these humiliations off at a play date before, and surely Nanny hadn't seen it coming. Still, she had managed to quickly find a way to make it that much more difficult for her to do. Jackie wasn't really likely to spit up, and Nanny knew that, but acting like she couldn't put off the burping was a plausible enough way to elongate Jackie's torment. Mind racing, Jackie was barely interrupted when Tori let out a deep belch that ended her burping session. Jackie's stomach felt like it had a dozen butterflies in it, but it took a while longer to coax out some gas. After what felt like an age, she had a small, involuntary little burp bubble up, which satisfied Nanny. She was shifted so that she was sitting on Nanny's left thigh, her head only a few inches from Nanny's with Miss Ashley and Tori clearly visible in the background. Tori was facing toward Jackie and Nanny, straddling her babysitter's knee and being given a gentle horsey ride. “So,” Nanny said, snatching Jackie's binky out of her mouth as she spoke, “was there something you wanted to share with us?” The spotlight was firmly on Jackie, but she was freezing. She really wished there were some way for her to avoid her impending humiliation that she could see, but there really seemed to be little alternative. “No?” Nanny asked, holding her pacifier up as if to show that it could be shoved back into Jackie's mouth at any second. Jackie didn't really want to seize the moment, but she also didn't want it to slip away. Hurriedly, she lisped out what she had been so diligently rehearsing in her head, knowing that mediocre delivery might rob her of the second point that she desperately wanted and needed. “Nanny, me knows me am suppotha be a googuwl, buth me's gwad that me no hafta share thoose milkies wiff nobody elf a cuz me weally wikes it awot.” Jackie wouldn't even look at the other side of the room. She had dutifully held eye contact throughout the entire ordeal, but now she couldn't really look at Nanny either, so she settled on staring lasers into Nanny's chin. She could feel heat radiating off of her bright pink cheeks, but she had given it her best. Her heart pounded as Nanny tilted her head from side to side as if to consider Jackie's comment. Finally, she spoke. “That was very sweet, Baby Jackie,” she said. “You should always try to share, but I'm glad you like having Nanny's milk in your tummy so much. I think you can have two points for that.” “Points?” Miss Ashley asked, causing Jackie to dart her eyes over to the other side of the room for the first time in several minutes. While Miss Ashley looked a little confused, Tori's face was priceless. She was wide-eyed and was gaping at the spectacle. Jackie interpreted the look as one part confusion and one part disgust. She was pretty sure that Tori couldn't even believe that Jackie had insinuated that she might be breastfed herself, as if that was something that was out of the question for her. If that was the case, Jackie had news for her. If the two other women in the room right now decided that that was going to be what happened, she would have been suckling on Nanny's fleshy torture device in no time flat. Jackie had little time for superiority complexes from someone else who was in her equally unenviable position, no matter how old they were. Nanny was less worried about analyzing the look on Tori's face, and had begun to explain the points system to Miss Ashley. Tori was clearly not paying attention at first, but as she heard more about it, she began to frown with a look of obvious displeasure on her face, and she shot more than one sympathetic look to Jackie. Miss Ashley seemed pretty interested in what Nanny had set up, and without formally committing to it she asked Tori if she thought that that sounded like fun, which caused Tori to make a face that told the whole story, though she never made an explicit answer. Miss Ashley moved on. “Alright, mine over here is absolutely soaked,” she said to Nanny. Turning directly to Tori she asked “Would my little fountain like a change?” Tori had been around the block a few times and was well aware that changes happened at the whims of the “adults” in the room, and so she didn't say anything, but she turned beet red. It seemed that, like Jackie, she couldn't get used to the shame of the added exposure of play dates, even though she would have known that one of the relative strangers in the room changed adult diapers every day and the other one was confined to the same absorbent prison that she was. Nanny reached into Jackie's diaper, which was a little difficult given the tights and the oversized tutu, but declared that Jackie was only damp and could probably hang on until after naptime. Miss Ashley once more produced Tori's rather enormous diaper bag, which Jackie noticed had had a picture of Baby Tori in a professional looking photo screened onto one side along with the inscription “CHANGE ME” done in letters that were embroidered onto the bag inside of little embroidered baby blocks. She produced a standard changing mat and all of the things she would need to get Tori into a fresh diaper. Expertly, she set Tori down onto the changing mat that she had placed on the floor. As she pushed her charge into a lying position, she raised the dress much of the way up so that when Tori's back hit the mat it pinned the dress well out of the way of the diaper that was about to be opened. From her perch on Nanny's leg, Jackie could see that the diaper was indeed pretty clearly heavy with urine, and wondered if that was what hers looked like by the time she was granted a change. Tori was sucking her thumb even more furiously now, and looked like she wished she could melt into the floor as Miss Ashley, kneeling above her, opened the diaper to reveal a wholly yellow front panel. For some reason, Jackie couldn't seem to take her eyes off of the change. She stared at the diaper and Tori's hairless privates as they were shamefully wiped clean for her, and watching Miss Ashley raise her legs high into the air and thoroughly wipe Tori's crack and cheeks kept Jackie thoroughly interested. Soon Tori was being liberally powdered by and then was taped back into another diaper that at least for the moment was clean. The whole thing had only taken about 90 seconds, but Jackie could imagine that for Tori the humiliation felt like it lasted for more like 90 minutes. With Tori put back together, she and Jackie were put back into the playpen to continue “playing” until lunchtime. They weren't explicitly told to do so, but they went back to playing with the blocks, which Jackie was fine with because it at least somewhat focused her attention on something, which her dolls never really did. She and Tori continued to take their turns peacefully enough, and, except for the mittens on Jackie's hands, for once the way that they were dressed wasn't on the front of their minds, though had they really thought about the toy they were playing with they might have been forced to reckon with their state once more. It was only about 45 minutes until lunch time for the girls. Jackie always thought that the fastest part of her mostly boring days was the time between morning snack and lunch, since morning snack usually seemed to start at about 10:30 and took at least a half hour, especially since Jackie had to go through the somewhat slow process of a breastfeeding. Play dates made lunch a somewhat more drawn out process, since, despite the fact that all of the households that Jackie had been in on a play date, including her own, clearly had plenty of resources, none of them felt the need to have an extra oversized highchair for the once or twice a month that there was a guest that would need it. Today Nanny indicated that guests would be first, so Miss Ashley set about loading Tori up into the highchair. She was quickly strapped in and the tray was locked into place, pinning her arms by her sides, though had they been free Tori still would have known better than to do anything but let them hang down limply. Jackie was left sitting on the floor about 10 feet away from the highchair while Nanny heated up some baby food. Meanwhile, Miss Ashley busied herself fastening a bib around the back of Tori's neck, rendering her fully ready for the coming feeding. Just a moment later the microwave beeped and Nanny came over with a still-steaming bowl of baby food that she set down on the tray in front of the helpless adult baby woman. Nanny Michelle actually was the one that took on the task of spoon-feeding Tori, while Miss Ashley took to ensuring that a bottle was ready for when her charge was done with the mush. This was fairly standard for play dates, with the caregivers routinely switching which baby they fed under the guise of getting a chance to get closer with the other girl. Jackie suspected that the real motive was that the babysitters knew that each girl had adjusted to her own caregiver's feeding rhythm and that introducing someone they weren't used to could significantly increase the amount of mush that wound up on the girls' faces and bibs. Still on the floor, Jackie watched as Tori made a wretched face and seemingly fought off a gag reflex when the first spoonful of food went into her mouth. The reaction caused a good half of the spoonful to dribble down her chin, as Nanny quite deliberately never shoveled the food too deep into a big baby's mouth. Jackie almost chuckled at Tori's reaction, though she knew that she often reacted similarly. Each meal was a disgusting combination of three individual baby foods, each of which maybe wouldn't be so bad if they had been delivered separately, but which together were totally gross, which she was sure was the goal of mixing them in the first place. Many days Jackie never saw the jars and had to just guess what she was eating with the knowledge that in there was some sort of entree, something vegetable based, and some sort of fruit or fruit combination. From her vantage point on the floor, Jackie could see six empty jars on the counter, pretty clearly arranged into two groups. The first trio was lasagna with meat sauce, squash, and banana-strawberry, while the other group contained mixed vegetables and beef, broccoli and carrots with cheese, and apple-mango-kiwi. Jackie had no way of knowing which one of the off-putting mixtures was being shoveled into Tori's mouth right now, though, and she wasn't sure whether there was one that she would prefer waiting for her over the other. Feeding Tori took about 15 minutes. Watching, Jackie felt like she was getting a window into how dumb she must look when eating. Tori couldn't help but make a face with every horrible taste that reached her tongue, and Jackie knew that she must do the same at times when she was in her spot. Furthermore, with Tori strapped tightly in and leaning back, she was left just obediently opening her mouth as Nanny brought more and more of the horrid paste to her waiting lips, but from this angle it was easy to see that Nanny never really actually put the spoon anywhere past the tip of Tori's tongue, letting the slop slide off from there, ensuring that it was all over by the end of bowl. When it was over, Nanny went about quickly unstrapping Tori, and she lifted her directly out of the chair without even bothering to wipe her face as she carried her over to a chair at the table. Miss Ashley brought over a hot bottle of formula and Nanny sat down with Tori on her knee and began to feed Tori, who still had a mouth and bib that were smeared with the remnants of her lunch. Jackie didn't need to be told that it was her turn, and she slowly crawled over to the seat. Miss Ashley gave her a slight boost and soon Jackie herself was tightly strapped in, her tutu tucked away underneath the tray that sat tightly against Jackie's body just underneath her breasts. A bib was fastened onto her, with Miss Ashley making sure that her hair was hanging behind her back so that no food could get into her hair. The other bowl of food was brought over and Jackie obediently opened wide so that she could receive the mush. It was truly ghastly. In fact, it might have even been worse than usual, as it had been microwaved at the same time as Tori's and was now not very warm. Jackie preferred that it still be piping hot because it usually didn't carry as much of a distinguishable taste when it was still warm, but now Jackie was forced to get the full brunt of the taste. She was no more sure of which of the two foul concoctions she was eating now that she was tasting it, and she was trying to swallow as quickly as possible so that she wouldn't taste it enough to even have much of a guess. Miss Ashley seemed to work a bit faster than Nanny did, perhaps because she knew that the second feeding was cutting into when the girls would usually be napping. Within only a few minutes, Jackie's face was covered and her bowl was clear. Miss Ashley didn't bother to take Jackie out of the highchair, instead just holding the bottle above Jackie's head and forcing her to tilt her head way back to suckle the formula down from the rubber teat. When Jackie was finished Miss Ashley took a baby wipe to her face, getting the excess food that hadn't dripped down onto her bib off before it became too sticky. The bib was also removed and soon Jackie was out of the highchair and back on the floor. Nanny released Tori to the floor as well. “Baby Jackie, lead the way to your nursery please,” she commanded. “It's nap time for a couple of sleepy little princesses.” To Miss Ashley she continued, “I can put them down if you want to clean up for a minute.” “Sounds great,” came the response from over by the sink. Jackie began a crawling possession up to the nursery, with Nanny following on foot behind Tori. The party reached the top of the stairs and entered into the bedroom, where Nanny sprung into action, scooping up Tori without any warning and sitting her on the edge of the changing table before doing the same to Jackie. She swiftly set about taking off their dresses, explaining that they would get messed up if the girls slept in them. Their shoes also came off, but Jackie's tights were deemed fine to remain in place. Both girls also had their diapers checked, with Nanny commenting that Jackie would definitely be needing a change right after nap time was over but declaring Tori just a tiny bit damp and good to last a while. Nanny lifted Tori up once more and brought her over to Jackie's crib, placing her so her back was against the far bars. In no time Jackie was placed in, facing her companion, their heads just a few inches apart on the same solitary pillow. Jackie's crib had a simple twin mattress in it and really barely fit two occupants, her pacifier was almost touching the fist connected to the thumb in Tori's mouth, and their bare chests were actually slightly in contact. Next Nanny grabbed the warm blanket and, with a few deft reaches under the girls, tightly wrapped them together so that they now were forced to be touching all over and were left breathing the same air. It wasn't as tight as Jackie was normally swaddled when she was alone, but she still wasn't used to being in such tight quarters with another person, leaving her basically no room to fidget. It was even worse for Tori, who was not usually swaddled for sleeping the way that Jackie was, and was clearly very uncomfortable with all of the contact. Nanny gave each girl a kiss on the head, pulled up the side of the crib so that it locked with a click, told them to sleep well, and reminded them that she didn't want to hear a peep over the baby monitor. With that, she exited, leaving the two girls in the room with the only light coming from the night light on the opposite side of the room. Tori was squirming to try to get a little more personal space, but it was no use as there was nowhere to go. Her movements were causing their chests to rub softly together, however, and though Jackie didn't have a lesbian bone in her body, the physical contact with her naked torso was more than she usually got with her miserable excuse for a sex life and left her wanting something more fulfilling. Knowing that she wasn't about to get it, she did her best to let it go. Eventually Tori did settle in. Jackie always found that both girls had trouble falling asleep at first during these naps, but ultimately they all had one thing working for them: they were actually sleepy. Each girl was conditioned to taking a nap right after lunch, and at this point would be left extraordinarily tired and cranky without one. Today was no different, and soon the two girls were sleeping peacefully in their close quarters. Both girls were still asleep when Nanny and Miss Ashley came into the nursery to wake them about an hour and a half later. They roused the two girls with a shake of the blanket-wrapped bundle that contained them both. Soon, the groggy women were being unwrapped, allowing them to roll away from each other and stretch their legs a little with their new-found freedom of motion. Nanny soon plucked Jackie from the childish bed. Jackie could tell that she was showing off, as normally she wouldn't pick up Jackie nearly as much as she had picked her and Tori up today. She was carried over to the rocking chair in the corner of the room, where she was soon being fed another bottle of rather disgusting formula. Meanwhile, Miss Ashley had climbed into the crib and was sitting with Tori's head in her lap giving her a bottle as well. When the bottles were drained, Nanny guided Jackie over to the changing table for her promised diaper change. Jackie was more than pleased to be relieved of her sodden underwear. She was basically always wet, but usually her diapers were absorbent enough that she didn't really notice them. If she had gone long enough, like she had this morning, though, she would be unable to escape the discomfort of how wet her privates were. Sitting on Nanny's knee during her bottle feeding, Jackie had been able to feel a noticeable squelch with every shift of position. For months Jackie had struggled for control of her bladder, and when she had lost it, she had at first been extremely depressed. Now, though, this morning had passed without her even noticing a single time that she had added to the wetness in her diaper. She sometimes did still notice herself letting out an involuntary splash, especially when she had been first changed into a clean diaper, but she had basically accepted that her incontinence wasn't her fault and rarely worried about it anymore. Jackie found the change slightly more embarrassing than usual, owing entirely to the presence of the two guests. No matter how much Jackie tried to put it out of her mind, it was just hard not to struggle with the immodesty of having her privates wiped clean of urine and then being taped back into another diaper in front of others. Jackie had a theory that having to sit still and be prepared for and then taped into a fresh diaper was actually the most embarrassing part of being changed as an adult baby. Especially in the earlier parts of her new life, (and depending on how you looked at it, still) she could make a somewhat compelling case that she had only used that particular diaper because her parents, or by extension her Nanny, had made her do so. But sitting and accepting being powdered and diapered in a way constituted Jackie's tacit agreement that she did need the next diaper. Worst, this wasn't just symbolism anymore, because at this point Jackie knew that it was objectively true that she would hopelessly use her next diaper. Now in a dry undergarment, Jackie continued to cooperate as Nanny once again dressed her for the afternoon. The tights and shoes were replaced, and the dress once more completed the ensemble. Tori had been redressed by Miss Ashley while Nanny had changed Jackie, so she too was ready to face the rest of the day. The two babies made quite a spectacle as they bumped down the stairs on their bottoms and then crawled with their thickly diapered behinds on full display into the living room. They were loaded into the playpen once more, but this time they were encouraged to play with the little electronic toy that hung over the side and functioned as a sort of entertainment center for babies. Different buttons made different sounds, including some sounds of farm animals, a few that played simple instrumental versions of familiar lullabies and children's songs, and a few more that did things like count or even just played a recording of a baby laughing. Jackie thought the device was kind of infernal, but on a normal day Nanny expected to be hearing each of the buttons relatively routinely, and so Jackie had to make fairly frequent use of it. As they settled in, Jackie reflected on how bizarre it was to try to share such a device. They sort of switched off pressing buttons for a few minutes, though Jackie would have been fine just to watch what Tori did with it, especially since she knew what all the buttons did already. The orderly play was apparently not what the caregivers were looking for, however. Nanny came over to the side of the playpen and not so subtly hinted that she wanted to see both girls hitting buttons at the same time, pointing out how silly it could be by pressing the duck and cow buttons at the same time, as though that would cause two adult women to crack up. Still, the reaction Nanny was really looking for was for the girls to liven up their play a little more, and she got that. Without communicating except with a little bit of eye contact, Jackie and Tori did make some rather odd combinations, but it was still hardly what either of them would call fun. After about 20 minutes of that game, Jackie noted a slowing of the pace coming from Tori. Jackie assumed that Tori was getting bored, but if Miss Ashley was anything like Nanny Michelle, getting bored was hardly an excuse and not diligently following orders was a dangerous game that could lead to punishments that were definitely not worth the benefits. Jackie couldn't really blame Tori for the lack of enthusiasm, but that didn't mean she wanted to find herself sharing in a punishment for it, so she started to press buttons slightly more quickly herself to try to make sure that there wasn't an obvious slowdown in the cadence. Even with the slowing in speed, it came to a shock to Jackie when, abruptly, Tori got off of her bottom and onto her knees, shuffling away from the toy entirely. “Mith Athawy?” she meekly mumbled through the thumb she was still sucking, though there was no real reason as she had already gotten both of the babysitters’ attention with her sudden movements. “Yes?” came a genuinely confused sounding response. Tori paused for a moment, looking nervous, but when she spoke she did so somewhat more confidently than she had before. “Me needs to do poo-poos on the potty.” Jackie suddenly understood. She had seen Tori use the potty for her messes the first time they had had a play date, and though Tori looked absolutely mortified to have everyone watching her sit and push out a load on her tiny pink potty in the center of the living room, Jackie had thought that she would have traded just about anything for such a luxury. Still, she had basically forgotten about the incident until this moment. “Princess,” Miss Ashley said in a tone that was sterner than Jackie would have imagined, “you know your Mommy and Daddy decided that you don't get to use your potty any more and threw it away. You can do poo-poos in your diapers whenever you want.” Frantically, Tori tried to salvage her situation. “Not the car potty!” she said, sounding pretty absurd still using her shrill and overly girlish voice. Miss Ashley sighed. “They did throw your car potty away as well, missy, and even if they hadn't, what would make you think that I would let you use it when your mommy and daddy have specifically said that you need to make stinky pants from now on?” “But-” Tori started. “Victoria Elizabeth, that is quite enough!” Miss Ashley snapped. “If I hear one more word about this then you can sleep in your messy diaper tonight after you have made it! Now get back to your toy!” Crestfallen, Tori bowed her head and made her way over to the stupid little article that she and Jackie were assigned to play with and petulantly smacked it with an open palm, depressing a number of buttons and creating a cacophony of childish noises. Jackie could see tears forming in her eyes, and was not without sympathy, although she might have felt worse if she herself didn't have to defecate in her own underwear about 10 times a week. Jackie was pretty curious about this turn of events, and from what she could hear from across the room, she wasn't the only one. “When did that happen?” Nanny Michelle asked Miss Ashley. “Oh, I don't know, I guess like three weeks ago now. It's sort of funny how it happened actually. Baby Martha was over for a play date and made a messy diaper during nap time. A lot of times when one of the other babies made a mess at the place I would just bring the diaper out to the dumpster after they got changed in the living room, but since we were already in Tori's nursery I didn't think anything of it when Nanny Claire put it into the diaper pail. But Tori's daddy smelled it when he went in to get her up the next morning and asked me lots of questions. He didn't realize that all of Tori's friends used their diapers for more than just peeing. Apparently he talked with his wife that night, and the next morning they asked me if I minded changing dirty diapers. They told Tori that weekend, and I guess they had to strap her to the highchair in locking plastic pants to make her do it the first time, but she hasn't used the potty since that Friday.” “So you chose to change stinky diapers?” Nanny asked. “It's really not a big deal,” came the response. “The potty wasn't really any better. I still had to wipe the poop off of her bum, smell the smell, and then I had to dispose of the crap and wash the potty while she got to just sit there in a fresh new diaper. Plus with the potty when she wanted it I had to get it for her right away. Now I get to decide when she gets cleaned up. I guess she is messier to wipe now, but I already have to wipe her full diaper area when she pees. Besides, her parents gave me an extra 250 bucks a week, even though it's hardly any different. Who doesn't want an extra 13 grand a year?” “All good points,” Nanny conceded. “Wow, big change from the last time we saw each other. Three weeks...huh. I guess I'm surprised that she is still fighting it.” “Well, she hadn't been so much, but I guess this is the first time we've been on a play date since then. And maybe she thought that we really did still had a potty in the trunk, although I have no idea what on Earth would make her think she would be allowed to use it if it was still there. But I guess she probably is just embarrassed. And, you know, in fairness to her, she'd been using that potty for 15 years and having play dates most of that time, so I'm sure she never thought the day would come when she would have to mess herself like the other babies.” Jackie was floored at that comment. She had been living this life for less than a year and could barely stand it. Tori had been doing it almost since Jackie had gotten out of diapers the first time! Nanny, too, was intrigued. “Fifteen years?” she asked somewhat incredulously. “You haven't been watching her the whole time, have you?” “No, no, no.” Miss Ashley answered with a chuckle. “If I'd have been doing it the whole time I would have started when I was 10. I think there were two other babysitters before me. There was one that lasted a long time, and then she decided not to do it anymore, and then another one who only lasted a few months and then I came in 5 years ago.” “Wait, five years ago? So you were what, like” “Yeah, I was only twenty. I had been doing some domination stuff on the side to pay for college. A friend of mine knew Tori's first babysitter and when the job opened again I ended up getting recommended for it. I love taking charge like this, and was already thinking about giving up school to do it more online or something, and then this came along and they offered to pay me way more than enough to make it worth it for me without the privacy issues of online stuff, so I jumped at it. It was a little weird at first, especially since I'd mostly done men and mostly done spanking, which we don't use, but I still really find it fun to come up with new stuff and do it, plus the money is great.” Jackie wasn't too surprised to find out that these nanny positions were lucrative. They did require a big time commitment, and all of the families clearly had the resources to make it worth someone's while. Jackie had once seen one of Nanny Michelle's checks. Some quick math in her head (or as quick as it can be when your mind was turning to mush from lack of use) had told her Nanny was making more than $100,000 a year. Jackie knew her family could afford it even without her mother's substantial income, but that was still just a mind boggling figure to her for them to be willing to pay just for someone to keep tabs on her and keep her squirming in infantile humiliation. Jackie didn't have time to dwell on it much though, as Nanny and Miss Ashley kept talking. Jackie was keeping up her token playing with Tori, but she was totally engrossed. Though she felt a little strange about it, she found herself trying to learn everything about Tori's past that she possibly could now that they had started. “How old was Tori then when you started - you know, really? Nanny was asking all the questions Jackie would be asking herself! “Let's see - she is 41 now, so she must have been 36 then I guess.” “Is that weird? For you to be that much younger than she actually is?” Nanny asked. Miss Ashley seemed to think for a second before answering. “For me it isn't. I think once you decide that you are ok with treating an adult as a full-time baby girl, how old they are doesn't make too much of a difference, at least to me. But for Tori, I'm pretty sure it was at the beginning. It still probably is. I think that her mommy and daddy liked me in part because my being so young really reinforces to her how immaturely she is treated.” Jackie tried to look for Tori's reaction to all this, but she realized that Tori couldn't have been paying less attention. She was absent mindedly still doing her duty and giving the occasional smack to the toy in front of them, but Jackie could see that there was a desperate look on her face. Clearly, Tori was yet to have come to grips with her new regime of messing herself, but, as far as Jackie could tell, she didn't have too much time left before she would have to give in. Meanwhile, the conversation on the sofa continued. “Do you know what happened for her parents to do this for fifteen years?” Nanny was asking. “I know Jackie's parents plan to keep her as a baby for at least the foreseeable future just for basically being a spoiled brat, but fifteen years is a long time!” “Oh, well here we go then.” Miss Ashley sounded vaguely excited to tell this story. “First of all, it's not even Tori's parents.” “Wait, what?” Nanny interjected, shocked. “Yeah.” Miss Ashley said, dipping into a performance mode as she shared the juicy details, perhaps unaware that Jackie, too, was hanging on her every word. “It's a married couple, but they aren't actually related to Tori at all. 'Daddy' is actually Tori's old ex from college. They had been seeing each other for about three years when they graduated, but he decided to break it off because he was going off to grad school across the country for a few years.” “I guess Tori was pretty broken up about the whole thing and had even gone out there a few times to try to win him back, but he thought the distance was going to be too hard. Then while he was out there he met another woman and before he even graduated from school they were engaged.” “But that is where it gets pretty good. They moved back here after school. It turned out both of them were really into domination and both of them really wanted a full time adult baby, but they didn't really know where to turn. Tori's Daddy's name is Brian, and I guess Brian remembered that Tori had always been pretty submissive even though they had never really done anything too crazy while they were together. Somehow though, he convinced Tori to sign an agreement that made them legally her guardians and allowed her to be a part of their family on the condition that she do whatever they say.” “Wow!” said Nanny. “Why did she sign that?” “I don't know,” said Miss Ashley. “It seems like she didn't totally have the same impression as them, but-” At that moment, they were interrupted by a groan from Tori. For a split second, Jackie thought that maybe she had had enough of the story, but then she realized the real problem. With a loud, unladylike fart, Tori lost her battle and began to mess herself. There seemed to be a few distinct waves and several more pockets of gas loudly escaped before Tori, exhausted from the evacuation and the battle that had preceded it, slumped backwards. Just a foot or so away, Jackie's nostrils were immediately assaulted by the absolutely foul stench coming from Tori's dirty pants. “Gee, that was pretty quick,” remarked Nanny. “Well, the old rule for potty time was that she had one minute from when her butt hit the plastic until she had to have started, and then 5 minutes after that to finish. And after that she had to wait at least 3 hours before she could use the potty again, so I bet she had to go pretty bad when she asked.” Miss Ashley got up from the couch and strode over to the playpen, towering over her kneeling charge. The fight had gone out of Tori, and it was easy for her to spin Tori around so that her backside was up against the near side wall of the playpen and facing her. She pulled up the already-short dress and peeled back Tori's diaper. There was, of course, no need to check, but doing so was a chance for humiliation that Miss Ashley hadn't passed upon. Dramatically, she pinched her nose. “Pee-eww!!!” she said, spinning the helpless woman in the offending diaper around once more. She put her face right into Tori's, which was positively crimson and streaked with a steady flow of tears of pure shame. “That is one stinky diapee, young lady. But don't think I've forgotten when you tried to make me break Mommy and Daddy's rules with you. I think you can sit in your dirty pants for a while and think of what you've done. Have fun with your toy!” With that, she pushed Tori back, forcing her with an audible squish to sit in the fresh pile of waste that she had just deposited into her diaper, and then casually moved back over to the couch. “Now, what was I saying?” she asked Nanny. “I think you were just suggesting that she might have gotten more than she bargained for,” Nanny said, her voice thick with recognition of the ironic timing. “Ahh, yes,” Miss Ashley said. “Yeah, I think that she had interpreted her role as sort of a bottom in a lot of sort of kinky sex. And, in a way, I think she is right. Mommy and Daddy always want to know about her day and they have hinted that they like to know for later on that night. I think they totally get off on the levels of humiliation that she reaches as their baby. But she is certainly never in the bedroom.” “But anyways, they sort of played it straight at first, acted like she was going to just sort of have to do chores and stuff, but kept her in sort of a dependent, little girl state and then just kept finding reasons to take away privileges. I guess they had had the nursery set up the whole time, and one day they came up with a reason to regress her all the way. The whole thing really only took like a month or something at most, and she's been wearing diapers, eating baby food, and sleeping in a crib ever since. At this point, I don't know if she would even know how to go back. She's never sent a text in her life, hasn't used the internet since AOL, and the most adult thing anyone has even read to her is Goodnight, Moon.” “Man,” said Nanny. “That is pretty intense.” The conversation quickly turned on its head, with Miss Ashley asking Nanny Michelle all about Jackie, but that left Jackie trying to hear as little as possible instead of trying to hear all the details. Suddenly very engrossed in her toy, she found herself trying to make the machine make as much noise as possible to drown out the humiliating tale of her own babying, though she still found herself blushing at some of the more difficult details. The adults were on to trying to piece together what they knew about some of the other big baby girls that they had encountered when Jackie felt a rumble in her stomach. She was going to need to poop very soon. These days Jackie found that she didn't have more than maybe ten minutes warning when a bowel movement was going to strike. Her mushy diet meant that when things ran their course they were plenty loose enough to slide out quickly, especially since Jackie placed minimal emphasis on holding back, as there was little point. Jackie never relished a messy diaper, but looking over at the still distressed Tori, she thought that she could at least handle it better than her companion. On a normal day, Jackie barely even reacted to the actual act of messing. Often Nanny could tease her way into getting a rise out of her soon after, and when she was then made to sit in it for a while and to experience at close proximity just how badly it smelled she would invariably at the very least become agitated, but even then she now just considered it to be gross and humiliating, not the life-alteringly bad experience that she had felt like it was early on in her treatment. Today, she figured she had less reason to fight it than normal. Nanny and Miss Ashley were immersed in their chatter. Tori was distracted by her own mess, and besides she could hardly give Jackie a sideways glance with the stinky show that she had put on just 15 minutes or so before. When she felt the first significant cramp coming, Jackie broke from her normal pattern and just released. She was certain that she had that telling, focused look that inevitably came with pushing a mess into her diaper, but beyond that it was almost anonymous. She felt a thick, muddy torrent stream into the seat of her pants and fill most of the space in her crack, but it was accompanied by no tell-tale farts or involuntary grunts on this occasion. Another wave came, and once more Jackie allowed her sphincter to slacken, further worsening the mess on her bottom. Looking up, she could see that Nanny and Miss Ashley were still chatting away, seemingly unaware that they now were the lucky caregivers to two adults who had deposited messes into their infantile underwear. Tori, however, was not fooled. Like Jackie, she could probably smell the freshness of the new load, somewhat overpowering Tori's ripeness with a slightly different stench that might not be as distinguishable from 20 feet away. As far as Jackie could tell though, Tori seemed almost impressed with her poise. Jackie was feeling pretty impressed with herself in her own right. Not only had she been subtle, but unlike her companion, she wasn't sitting there expecting a change right away like some sort of spoiled princess. After all, a big chunk of their lives was supposed to be humiliation, so what did Tori expect? But then it hit Jackie like a ton of bricks. Here she was feeling superior to another adult woman because she was better at pooping her diapers and handling the aftermath. All of the sudden Jackie wasn't so proud, and in fact the immaturity of her previous line of thinking made her all the more ashamed. They were winning. They were making her think that she was mature by more thoroughly acting like a toddler. Suddenly, Jackie felt like she was in a catch-22. She could either be thoroughly humiliated by being treated like a giant baby, or she could act like it was the most natural thing in the world and that she was in fact just a baby. Either way her parents and her nanny were getting what they wanted. In her somewhat depressed state of mind, Jackie hadn't noticed that Nanny Michelle and Miss Ashley had ended their conversation and were headed over to the playpen once more. “Snack time, babies!” Miss Ashley declared cheerily. Miss Ashley helped a still-sulking Tori to her feet and over the side of the playpen, then escorted her over to the couch once more for another round of bottles, while Nanny picked Jackie up under the arms and carried her over to the couch. There she sat down and temporarily set Jackie on her knee, causing a big squish of poop in Jackie's diaper and a look on Nanny's face that made Jackie realize that her mess was no longer a secret. Nanny temporarily abandoned her efforts to grab Jackie's bottle, and instead worked to get Jackie's tutu out of the way so that she could access below. Peeling back the back panel, Nanny took a good look and an exaggerated sniff of the smelly parcel that Jackie had left for her to eventually clean up. “Whoooo-weeee! You are a stinky girl too! What a dirty baby you are!” “Oh, her too?” Miss Ashley asked. “These babies just can't help but poop in their pants I guess. That is probably why they have to wear diapers in the first place.” Jackie noted how quickly, for humiliation purposes, she slipped back into acting as if she and Nanny hadn't just had a conversation acknowledging the babies true ages and unwilling participation in their lifestyles. Though she could recognize the cynicism, Jackie also couldn't deny that the comment had both her and Tori turning a slightly brighter shade of red. Even upon discovery, Jackie knew better than to expect a change. In fact, she knew that even had she messed herself 5 hours ago, because it had just now been discovered the clock on when she might be changed would start now, and it would probably last at least 30-45 minutes if Nanny was in a generous mood, and possibly longer given that there were guests over. Predictably, having exposed Jackie's shameful act, Nanny proceeded to simply ignore it, laying Jackie out and quickly replacing her pacifier with a bottle of warm baby formula. This time, anyways, Jackie proved to be the faster of the two girls at drinking her bottles, though that could have been because Tori was much less used to doing so in a dirty diaper and may have still been preoccupied with her filthy backside. Either way, Nanny began to burp Jackie while Tori still had about three quarters of her second bottle still remaining. To this day Jackie was surprised that burping could really work on a woman in her mid-twenties, but it always did seem to loosen things up in her stomach. This time it seemed to be doing more than normal though. Jackie could really feel it making her stomach churn in a way that burps rarely could. Soon enough the burp did come, but as Nanny was complimenting her on being a good little girl, Jackie was realizing that the reason that she had felt a little strange was that she needed to break wind. Realistically, this wasn't much of an issue. As an adult, Jackie had tried to observe standard social norms when passing gas, but after long enough of being treated like a baby she now often just farted whenever she pleased. After all, she already had to poop in her diapers, so farting wasn't really such a big deal. In a way now was an even more opportune time, because she knew that the smell would be masked by the already significant stench emanating from the two diapers in the room. But she still tried to avoid doing so audibly at times in front of Nanny because it was sure to lead to a comment, and now was a time she'd certainly like to avoid a loud toot if possible. With that in mind, Jackie worked carefully to see if she could subtly let out the gas as Nanny flipped her around to face forward on her knee. The plan actually worked, and Nanny didn't even really seem to notice the subtle contraction of her stomach muscles as she pushed out the fart. For a moment, Jackie was somewhat impressed that she had succeeded, but her joy was extremely short lived. A moment later, she realized that the gas had been a precursor to one more wave of poop that apparently had not come out when she had originally messed herself. Jackie didn't like it, but she knew that there was only one solution to this problem, and it involved another push. She was well aware that now that she was already in a poopy diaper, she should be getting it all out. This wasn't a decision based upon the practicality of only using one diaper. What really made Jackie so sure that she should do the dirty deed was that if she was changed beforehand and then messed a second diaper, Nanny would be very upset with her and probably send her to bed in the dirty diaper for having the temerity to need to poop so soon after being cleaned up. Jackie wasn't about to face those sorts of consequences when it was so easy to avoid them, so she quickly got to work. But pooping while sitting on Nanny's leg wasn't a piece of cake. At first she tried to just give a gentle push so that she might be spared from having to make any sorts of grunts or embarrassing faces, but that was pretty clearly not going to work given how little room there was between her actual bottom and Nanny's leg. She was going to have to push hard to get this out, and so, reluctantly, she did so. There was indeed a little grunt and an almost purple face, and suddenly Jackie was the center of attention as she made a scene not unlike the one that Tori had made a little under an hour before. Aided by the hard surface of Nanny's muscular thigh, the mess found its way all over Jackie's diaper, mingling with the existing poop and once again making the seat of her pants warm. She could feel poop all the way out to the sides of her cheeks, up towards the small of her back, and the concentration was still very heavy just below her anus, where gravity caused the majority of the mess to settle. Though everyone in the room knew what had happened, Nanny still wasted little time in calling attention to it. “Again, baby? That's twice in a row. I hope you don't have any more poopies in that little tummy of yours for awhile now.” She rubbed Jackie's belly to emphasize the last point. Jackie blushed fiercely. Somehow, even though she had just blatantly messed herself, Nanny could make the humiliation more acute with her words, especially when someone was there to hear them besides Jackie. Jackie remained seated on Nanny's knee facing the center of the room as Tori finished her second bottle and Miss Ashley helped her assume the burping position, which Jackie noted caused her face to contort in disgust as her mess shifted upon contact with her babysitter's knee. Soon Nanny began to bounce Jackie around a bit on her knee as they waited for Tori to burp. Nanny seemed weirdly fidgety to Jackie, as she was suddenly using the hands she had on each of Jackie's sides to wiggle her both front to back and side to side. Usually Nanny wouldn't have Jackie on her lap for all that long if she were just watching her alone, but in this case maybe she was just trying to pass the time before Tori was done being burped and they moved on to something new. Jackie soon suspected that perhaps Nanny was trying to make Jackie have to smear poop over even more of her diaper area. If that was the case it was sort of working, but Jackie was also experiencing another side effect, as the sodden front of her diaper was rubbing directly against her most sensitive parts. This wasn't really a setting that Jackie wanted to become aroused in, given that the seat of her pants was full of poop and the room was full of guests, but she couldn't really come up with an easy way to make the arousal stop. Even trying to focus on the mess being disgustingly spread further and further wasn't overcoming the direct stimulation that she was receiving. Jackie was pretty sure this wouldn't have been such a big deal, but it had been nearly a month since she had had any release, and Nanny had been working her up lately, and then at nap time Tori had unwittingly furthered Jackie's adult cravings. Now, when she least wanted them, they were back with a vengeance, with a few little shivers starting to involuntarily rock her, though Nanny at least seemed not to notice. Besides, if there was any comfort for Jackie, she knew that while Nanny might be an expert in leading her on, she almost never let her get off, and she could be pretty sure that this was not to be the exception to that rule. Jackie was so lost in her own mix of mortification and pleasure that she almost missed Tori's burp that officially ended snack time. Seconds later, however, she couldn't miss Nanny suddenly breaking her trance. “Alright baby, I've had enough of you squirming and fidgeting all the time. Sit still for one second and we'll take care of you.” Jackie didn't really know what was happening as Nanny eased her to the floor and left her sitting there in confusion as Nanny got up and walked out of the room. The puzzled look on Miss Ashley's face seemed to indicate that she wasn't too sure what was happening either. Was Jackie about to get a surprisingly prompt diaper change? She had assumed the second messing had meant that the time she had to wait would probably increase given Nanny's propensity for cruelty when it came to leaving her to rot away in her own foul waste. Jackie was just as puzzled when Nanny came back without diapering supplies. In fact, all she came back with was a toy that Jackie had been mailed for her birthday by her cousin Melissa and her husband (and allegedly their daughter Kendra, although since she was less than two Jackie figured that that probably was not quite true). It was a little pink pony's head on one of those wooden poles, pretty much a standard issue toy for little kids. Jackie had received a few babyish birthday presents from relatives, and had been made to make a thank you video for the senders in which she used the toys or modeled the clothes that were sent and had to very specifically lisp out what she was thanking them for. In the video to Melissa, Michael, and Kendra she was also instructed to ask for any toys that Kendra outgrew. Her parents could totally afford to buy any baby toy for Jackie, but the point was clearly to emphasize Jackie's infantile status by having her inherit toys that were no longer interesting to her cousin's child, who was more than 20 years her junior. In the case of the pink pony, Jackie had actually only ever used the toy in the video. Her parents and Nanny had deemed it too mature for her because playing with it required her to be standing, which they argued would be too dangerous for such a little girl, who might fall and hurt herself. That was of course pretty inaccurate, even with the decreased strength that Jackie had in her legs from not having really walked in almost a year, but Jackie didn't really mind as she hadn't really wanted to gallivant around with the silly thing between her legs. But why did Nanny Michelle have it now? Not surprisingly, Jackie didn't have to wait long for her answer. “Here, up on your knees, baby,” she coaxed. “Good. Legs apart. Now one little handy-pandy up here. Oops, that's hard to grip with your mittens, huh? Let's just wrap your hand there. Good baby! Now your other one back here...and another nice grip. Ok, go ahead and do it. Nice and quickly now!” Jackie was bewildered. Nanny had arranged it so that she was kneeling with one hand mittened hand lamely half-grasping-half-cradling the wooden stick in front of her and the other doing the same behind her, each about six inches from her diaper, with the stuffed animal head maybe a foot in front of her front hand. And Nanny wanted action. Still unsure, Jackie started shuffling around a little on her knees. “No, no, no silly,” Nanny said. “Like this.” She walked over to Jackie and put her hands on top of Jackie's. Pulling up so that it was tightly pressed against Jackie, she started to grind the stick back and forth. Jackie's eyes went wide. Now she got it. Apparently Nanny had felt her trembles from a few minutes ago, and she wanted her to do something about it. Jackie didn't really want to masturbate in front of the guests, and especially not using this silly little horse as a stimulus against her dirty diaper. And yet, the grinding felt so good. When Nanny took her hands off and stepped back, Jackie kept up the rhythm. She was aware that Miss Ashley and especially Tori were looking on with amazement just a few feet away, but now that she had started she wasn't about to stop, even if maybe because Nanny had ordered her to start she wouldn't have really been allowed to stop had she chosen to. At first Jackie tried her best to maintain as much dignity as a woman could while pleasuring herself in a crowded room while dressed as a baby and wearing a dirty diaper. She kept her eyes focused firmly on the back of the little stuffed animal's head and maintained a slow pace in her motions. Eventually though, instincts took over. Her eyes slipped closed and she began to pick up the pace. Just seconds later the rest of her body responded, her legs quivering and her hips bucking at the sensation in her loins. She was moaning, she realized, but even with the unfamiliar onlookers she was powerless to stifle herself. The rarely experienced pleasure was too powerful. There was one more thing she needed. “Nanny?” she pleaded. Using her lisp was so hard in this situation, but she had learned that it was imperative if she didn't want to get stopped in her tracks. “Oh, play a little while longer baby. You seem to like that toy.” Jackie wasn't sure how much longer that would really be possible, but for now she forced herself to continue, positively vibrating now with erotic excitement. She was ready, but without Nanny's permission going over the edge simply couldn't happen. It wasn't even a minute before Jackie felt compelled to beg once more. “Pweath, Nanny,” she yelped, looking up at the woman towering above her while maintaining her frantic pace down below. “What is it baby?” Nanny asked coyly. “Nanny, me wants to show thoo how much me wuv my diapees.” Even the horrible routine of asking for permission couldn't slow her momentum now. Nanny delayed just a moment before giving her the green light. “Please do, princess.” On those words, Jackie's pace picked up one final time, and in seconds her world exploded. She inhaled repeatedly around her pacifier, positively squealing in delight and found herself flopping down face first onto the carpet as her entire body convulsed with wave after wave of pleasure. Exhausted, she remained on the floor, panting as she desperately tried to catch her breath. She had dropped the toy somewhere along the line, her useless fingers unable to hold on any longer, but that didn't matter now. Four long weeks of frustration had left her body in a moment of sheer bliss. “Baby?” Nanny said, snapping her out of her own little world. “Don't you have something to say?” Jackie remembered that she wasn't really done. Knowing what was expected of her, she climbed to her knees and then got to her feet, the only time she was ever supposed to stand unassisted. “Fank thoo for wetting me show thoo how much me wuv my diapees. They's me most favoritest thing in the whole wide world.” Jackie hated the embarrassing speech with a passion, but if she didn't make it now she would likely never be allowed release again. To finish her part, she placed her hands under the edges of her tutu (normally she would grab the hem of her dress, but with her mittens that wasn't happening) and dropped into a deep curtsey. Her legs wobbled a little as she dipped, and the shift combined with her tight tights to remind her of just how miserably soiled her diapers were, which had only been made worse by the shaming act. “You're welcome, baby, but I think you ought to thank our friends as well for watching your little show.” Now Jackie was struggling. She hadn't looked at Miss Ashley or Tori since she had climaxed a few minutes ago. Most of the afterglow of her release had already been compromised by having to immediately slide back into the role of obedient little wimp for Nanny, but having to directly acknowledge what she had just done to the guests was even more distressing. Nevertheless, around here orders were orders, so she turned to the guests. “Fank thoo for wetting me show thoo how much me wuv my diapees. They's me most favoritest thing in the whole wide world,” she repeated. Once more, she dipped into her silly little curtsey, doing her best not to sob at the shame of it all. “Good girl,” Nanny said, coming over and picking up her suddenly miserable charge and supporting her with an arm between the legs, only serving to mash the mess in her pants into even more corners. “Since you love your diapees so much, I think I will let you stay in that one until it is time for your bath tonight, even though you stink so bad. Aren't I so nice?” Jackie knew better than to give her opinion on Nanny's kindness, so she simply stayed silent as Nanny deposited her into the playpen once more. “Well,” Miss Ashley said, “I think I have a jealous little girl over here. I don't think she has done anything like that in a long long time. I could feel her shaking by the end. But she isn't going to do any of that unless her mommy and daddy tell me that they are ok with it. But maybe next time we see you two it will be Baby Tori who gives us all a show.” Looking at Tori's face, Jackie could tell that what Miss Ashley was saying was at least partly true. If it really had been fifteen years since she had been able to cum, Jackie couldn't really blame her, but if she could have an honest and private conversation with Tori, she would do her best to convince her not to be so jealous. Sure, she had been desperately aroused for large parts of the last week, but she was pretty sure that she hadn't been as aroused before Nanny had reintroduced sexual release into her life, even though it had been almost seven months at that point. Besides, the orgasms were certainly intensely pleasurable, but afterwards they made being forced to play the baby and submit to, and cooperate with, Nanny's torments even worse. In the moment right after she got off, she would feel adult again, but Nanny made sure that she always crashed right back to her lowly status by being forced to recite her ridiculous thanks. After finishing, Jackie would have loved a while by herself to privately come down from her high. Even today, in her dirty diaper, half an hour would have been enough to allow her to get over the adult moment and be ready to play her horrible role again, but Nanny would never let that happen. Especially now that it was over and she was no longer so desperate for release, Jackie felt like it just wasn't worth it. She would admit, though, that by the time Nanny was ready to let her get off once more, she probably would again find herself totally invested in doing so, but that would be because Nanny had made sure that that was the case. Jackie's musings were cut short though when Miss Ashley continued her talking. “I think it is time for us to get this little girl home so that she can get some din-dins and still get to bed on time,” she said unironically, even though it was only about 3:30 in the afternoon. “Aww, I was hoping we might get to see her get that stinky diaper change,” Nanny replied. “Well, I don't really want to ride in the car with this little stinker like she is, but she needs to learn that she doesn't have a choice and that dirty diapers are a part of being a baby, so she is going to have to wait until we get home.” Jackie could see that Tori hated to be the center of this conversation, but she could also see a little bit of relief on her face. As much as she probably wanted a new diaper, Jackie was willing to bet that she was at least as happy that she wasn't going to have her messy parcel opened in front of anyone besides Miss Ashley. Tori was still on Miss Ashley's knee, so Nanny once more removed Jackie from the playpen. She carried her over and sat next to the other two, putting Jackie on her own leg. The girls were forced to kiss once more, and did so as awkwardly as ever. Nanny gave Tori a quick smooch on the top of the head and told her to be a good little stinker for Miss Ashley. Miss Ashley returned the gesture to Jackie, and with that it was time to go. Tori was slid to the floor and Miss Ashley gathered everything they had come with in the diaper bag. Tori was ordered to start crawling, and did so, beginning to make her way out of the living room, through the kitchen and into the front hall. Miss Ashley followed closely behind her, and Nanny brought up the rear, still carrying Jackie along with her to see the guests off. At the front door Tori was allowed to stand up, and she walked the few steps down the walkway and to the car. There was only one other house that could be seen from the driveway, and though it was far enough away, if someone had happened to be looking they might have seen the odd spectacle. The mild threat of exposure didn't seem to speed up Miss Ashley, however, who put the diaper bag in the passenger seat before beginning the process of loading Tori into the car, much to the chagrin of both Tori and Jackie who were forced to remain outdoors in their childish attire. Soon enough though, Tori had indeed been tightly strapped into her oversized car seat, which Jackie was stunned to find was rear facing. She had to wonder if it was really safe in an accident, but it did make Tori look like a ridiculous infant when she was secured into it, though the legs spilling out of the back somewhat lessened the accuracy of the image. Jackie was glad her parents hadn't found that contraption at least. Satisfied, Miss Ashley closed the rear door, bid Nanny Michelle farewell, patted Jackie's disgusting diaper, and hopped into the driver's seat. Jackie and Nanny lingered in the driveway until they left. “Well, baby,” Nanny said as she carried Jackie back towards the house, “that was fun. I bet you can't wait until we get to tell your Mommy all about your exciting day!” Jackie wouldn't exactly have said that. At this point, about the only thing she couldn't wait for was a diaper change, but waiting was exactly what she was going to have to do. As Nanny deposited her into the playpen and announced that she needed to go to the restroom (which she always did to illustrate her maturity relative to Jackie's), Jackie thought back on the day. It had proved to be her most eventful play date yet, and by now Jackie had learned that in her life eventful was almost never good. Sure, she absolutely hated the mind numbing boredom that accompanied her babying, but the breaks she got from that boredom were the only thing that could make her already-humiliating experience become even more mortifying. Really, today's experience just confirmed what she already knew: play dates were the worst.

Hey y'all - been awhile! I don't get much time to write, but over the last several years I've slowly been building up a little bit of a catalogue. I have enough content to post that I plan to slowly drip it out over the next several months. After that, maybe I'll have more stuff that isn't written yet, or maybe not - I will never start posting something before I think that the entire piece is finished, so it comes down to the mix of time and inspiration. But in the meantime, I thought I'd repost the original since I'm sure it will be new to lots of people. I'll repost the other next week, and then start with some new stuff. Thanks for the occasional posts and messages over the years. It's nice to know at least a few people have enjoyed it over the years. --- “Good morning, Baby!” Jackie's mother woke her with the same enthusiasm that she used every morning. At first, her syrupy sweet tone was almost too much to take, but over time, like much of her new life, Jackie had grown to accept it. Yawning, she answered, “Good mowaning, Mommy,” as was expected of her. As her mouth was closing, her mother picked up her pacifier from her pillow and slipped it back into her mouth, where it had been when she fell asleep and where it was expected to stay while she was awake unless it was removed by what she was forced to call “a grown-up.” Her mother checked her diaper and found it wet, as she always did now in the mornings. Jackie had not been a bed-wetter when her parents had decided that she would once again become the baby in the family, but several months without using anything but her diapers had been enough to completely destroy her bladder control, especially when asleep. Jackie seldom stayed in a dry diaper for more than a half an hour at a time any more, and, unlike at the beginning of her new life, when she would often soak her diapers heavily and require a nearly immediate change to prevent a leak, she now often stayed in damp diapers through several hours of minor wettings until finally she was given a change. This morning was no exception, and her mother declared that she would be able to last until she had finished her breakfast. Within seconds, the side of Jackie's crib had been lowered and she was helped down to the ground by her mother. Still in her pink, very short nighty that she had been put to bed in, Jackie began to crawl out of her room, with her mother following close behind her. When she got to the stairs, she shifted positions and slid downstairs on her bottom. Returning to crawling, Jackie crossed through the living room, past her playpen and toys, and into the kitchen. When she arrived there, her mother helped her up into the highchair that sat waiting for her near the table. As with every morning, Jackie was strapped in, with her mother reminding her that “we wouldn't want our precious babykins to fall out,” in the same awful coo that she was always addressed in these days. The tray of her highchair was soon locked into position against her chest, and her mother crossed the kitchen to begin preparing the oatmeal that Jackie was fed every morning for breakfast. As it heated in the microwave, her mother fastened one of Jackie's many embarrassing bibs around her neck. This one was relatively mundane, however, simply reading “Mommy's Little Princess” in pink letters across a plain yellow fabric, and Jackie rarely even bothered to read her bibs anymore knowing that they were only ever seen by people who were well aware of her new status as a baby. Soon enough, the microwave beeped and Jackie's mother brought her over her steaming hot oatmeal and began spoon-feeding it to her. Jackie accepted the oatmeal without any fuss. She did not particularly enjoy it, and she particularly disliked being spoon-fed it by her cooing mother, but she had learned long ago that there was no sense in resisting it. Her mother always made sure that she ate all of her food, no matter how much time that took, and any real resistance usually just led to some sort of punishment afterwards, which Jackie never enjoyed and avoided like the plague. Besides, though the oatmeal was not very tasty and there was always far more of it than Jackie truly wished to eat (her mother said that Jackie had become too skinny), breakfast was easily the best meal of the day for Jackie. At other meals, she was forced to eat real baby foods, rather than the comparatively adult selection of oatmeal. These meals, she had decided, were the ones that were truly disgusting, and so she had come to see breakfast as the best meal of the day, for better or for worse. Just as her mother was shoveling the last spoonful of oatmeal into Jackie's increasingly dirty mouth (her mother always made sure that an appropriate amount of baby food ended up on Jackie's face and bib, no matter how politely Jackie accepted her feed), Jackie saw her father walk into the room. After she swallowed, her mother asked “What do you say to your daddy, little girl?” “Hewwo Daddy,” Jackie lisped out in the ridiculous voice that she was always required to speak in. One of the rules of her new life was that she was always to speak in a babyish voice, which was made easier by the large nipple of the pacifier that was normally in her mouth. Still, this humiliating speech was one of the things that Jackie hated most about being a baby again, especially since she was usually only allowed to speak when she was repeating what she was told to say by an adult, with the only exceptions being to answer questions which she already knew the answer too like the one that her mother had just asked her. Her father crossed the kitchen and kissed her on the top of the head, which was just about the only way he could avoid getting oatmeal on his lips. “Good morning Princess,” he answered, using his preferred nickname for his big baby daughter. Jackie noticed that her father was not dressed in his work clothes as he normally was. That was odd, she thought. She was almost sure that it was Friday, though it was hard for her to tell given that she wasn't even sure what month it was and rarely even glimpsed a clock. In converting her into a full time baby, her parents had seemingly taken great care to deprive her of her ability to track time. Her highchair faced away from the clock in the kitchen, and there was no way to tell time either in the living room where her playpen was or in her nursery. She spent very little time outside, so all she really knew about the time of the year was that it was quite hot, and thus she assumed that it was summer. At first she had known how many days and weeks it had been since her parents had made her a baby, but as the weeks turned to months and it became increasingly clear that her newly lowered status would not be ending anytime soon, she gave up on diligently keeping track in her head. She tracked days of the week through whether or not her father had gone to work in the morning, but this was imperfect for a number of reasons. Her dad, like everyone else, occasionally took days off. Beyond that, Jackie often found that she simply lost track by the time Thursday, Friday, or Saturday rolled around because it really made little difference to her what day it was, as the only difference that the day of the week would make to her daily routine would be that her father would be around if it were a weekend day and would most often be at work on the weekdays. Thus, Jackie dismissed the idea that her father's casual clothing meant much of anything and assumed that it was simply Saturday and she had lost track of time again. Her musings on her dad's clothes were interrupted by her mother tilting her head back from behind and putting a bottle of formula into her mouth. Of all the ways to be fed from a bottle, this one was undoubtedly the worst in Jackie's opinion. To her immense displeasure, she drank exclusively baby formula. She found it to be too thin, too sweet, and just plain gross. She particularly hated its horrendous aftertaste, which hung around for hours and almost left her feeling thirsty again, though another drink of formula was the last thing she wanted. Despite her distaste for the milk, Jackie found that bottles were an inescapable part of her daily life. She was given one after each meal, along with two each as a “snack” in both the morning and afternoon and another after nap time and before bed, plus the other one or two she might be given to drink on her own over the course of the day. Being fed in the highchair, as she was now, was particularly embarrassing to Jackie. With her head tilted back, the bottle feeding forced her to look up at her mother, who usually put her face very close to Jackie's and whispered coos to her about how little or cute or precious or well behaved she was. Beyond this, Jackie felt particularly infantile because of the way that the bottle simply poured into her mouth and she had to suck even more furiously than normally just to keep up with the flow of the bottle. Fortunately, after just a few short minutes of the torture, Jackie finished the bottle. Her mother quickly and efficiently used her bib to clean up the oatmeal and milk that had remained on Jackie's face and then replaced her pacifier before removing the tray from the highchair. After she unbuckled the straps, she helped Jackie down to the floor. On autopilot, Jackie crawled into the living room and towards the playpen to begin her daily routine of nearly insufferable boredom. However, her mother had a different plan for her. “Where do you think you're going, silly?” she asked Jackie, as if Jackie were stupid for assuming that her day would begin in the same way that it had for literally weeks before. “We have a big day ahead of us today, so Mommy is going to give her little baby a nice bath so that if we don't have time we don't have to do it later.” Suddenly Jackie's curiosity was piqued again. Perhaps it was Friday, and her dad being home wasn't a coincidence but part of the “big day” that her mother was talking about. Jackie knew it was better not to ask, that her parents would tell her what was up eventually, but she was certainly afraid of what might be to come. Her mother had never said anything like this before, and normally she didn't get a bath until sometime just before dinner. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of a big day given her humiliating status within her family. Jackie crawled up the stairs and into the bathroom. Her mother started the water for her, then told her to sit still while she fetched her a nice new diaper for when she got out of the bath. Before she had time to so much as think, her mommy returned holding diapering supplies. As if to humiliate Jackie even more, her mommy said simply “we wouldn't want baby to do pee-pees all over the floor on her way to her nursery, would we?” All Jackie could do was avert her glance in shame, knowing full well that her mom was not totally off base. Soon Jackie had been stripped out of her nighty and her quite damp diaper and, with just a quick wiping, deposited in the bathwater. The water was warm and refreshing, but her mother did not give her more than the few seconds it took to clean up her wet diaper and put her nighty in the hamper to enjoy it. In a record time, Jackie was given her usual, thorough bath that included a scrubbing of all of the places that Jackie had once assumed her mother would never see again. Within just a moment of the scrubbing ending, Jackie was hauled out of the tub, dried off, and once again laying on the changing mat. By now, Jackie could confidently say she was unlikely to make good on her mother's prediction of being wet before her nursery, but only because she had already peed while sitting in the tub. As the diaper was laid out and Jackie was being powdered, she realized that she was once again being put into a thick, nighttime diaper, which was normally reserved for when she was about to be put in her crib for the night. This had never happened before, which gave Jackie further misgivings about what “big day” was in store for her. As if to answer her question, her mother said, “Don't worry baby, we just have a long car ride ahead of us and it will be much easier if Mommy and Daddy don't need to pull over every couple of hours just to change their little tinkle-pants.” Jackie wasn't sure whether to be dismayed or glad after that comment. Her parents weren't the only ones who didn't want to be pulling over every couple of hours in order to change Jackie's diapers. Any diaper change that began with pulling over sounded like the most humiliating experience of Jackie's time as a baby. But hearing that they would be traveling that far scared Jackie very much. Where could they possibly be going? Jackie didn't even have time to ask. As soon as her bulky diaper was taped shut, she was flipped over and ordered to march to her nursery. Naked but for the thirsty disposable between her legs, Jackie did as she was told, though her apprehension caused her to move slow enough for her mother to give her a quick smack on the rear as a signal to hurry up. With a somewhat renewed vigor, Jackie finished her short crawl into her nursery. As always, she was helped onto her changing table by her mother to be dressed. She sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the table while her mother opened the drawer of her dresser across the room. She soon returned with a relatively simple pink onesie for Jackie to wear. While it wasn't the most embarrassing piece of clothing in Jackie's extensive new wardrobe, it was still more than she really wished to be seen in public in, especially given the frilly lace around the arm holes and across the bottom. She was also put off by word “baby” spelled out in baby blocks the chest, but supposed that the fact that she would be wearing a onesie over a thick, bulging disposable diaper meant that the label wasn't really telling anyone anything they couldn't figure out. Only after her mother pulled it over her head and fastened the buttons in her crotch did Jackie realize that the ensemble was not yet complete. Her mother told her to stay where she was. She soon returned with an item that she had never before seen. It was pink, though much brighter than the pastel shade of her onesie. It took Jackie only a moment longer to realize that it was a denim pair of shortalls. While they were loud and quite babyish and seemingly likely to draw a stare from anyone who really examined them, Jackie's first reaction was to let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness that much of the onesie would be covered! Soon, though, her delight was diminished. As her mother brought the shortalls up her legs, she realized that they were closed on the bottoms with the same humiliating buttons that her onesie had, thus making it obvious that they were hiding diapers that may need changing. Still, at least the ruffles on the seat of her onesie were mercifully covered up. What bothered her most, though, was the wording on the front of the garment. Stitched in clear, large blue letters was the simple monogram “Baby Jackie.” Clearly, this was a custom article of clothing. In her size how could it not be. Jackie began to cry. She knew she was going out of the house, and now she knew she would be doing so in clothes that openly announced her status to anyone who took so much as a second glance at her. Her mother reacted quickly to her tears. Hugging her daughter, she cooed “Shh shh shh, baby, its ok, Mommy's here. Whats the matter diddums? Does baby need a bubba?” Tears came much less frequently now for Jackie, who had felt at least some of her embarrassment at her new station in life wear off as the novelty of it did as well. At first, almost every new humiliation that her parents had in store for her reduced her to sobs, but over time Jackie had reached a point where only extreme humiliation, a particularly severe punishment, or a notably depressing day could send her into such a spiral. Ever since the beginning though, her mother reacted the same way. She always behaved as if she had no idea what could be wrong, though it was almost always quite obvious what the problem was. Instead, she pretended that Jackie must simply be suffering from a problem that may make a baby cry. Diapers were always checked, and if they proved not to be the answer (they never did, as her mother was always fairly well aware of their state) then she would give Jackie a bottle under the assumption that she was hungry and/or thirsty. This time was no different. Jackie soon found herself, still sobbing, in her mother's lap as she sat in the oversized rocking chair in the corner of her room. Her mother positioned her head on her shoulder, with Jackie's diapered bottom on the chair just next to her legs. Removing Jackie's pacifier, she inserted a bottle into her waiting mouth. As Jackie's mother told her that she was her precious little baby, she did her best to calm down. She knew that continuing to cry through her bottle was likely to lead to a nap time under the assumption that her tears indicated tiredness, which was the last thing that she wanted, as she would simply be left to contemplate the daunting day ahead of her. Jackie had indeed finished crying by the time her bottle was empty. Her mother gave her a kiss and then popped her pacifier back in her mouth. She left Jackie on the rocking chair for a moment. When she returned, she carried a pink ribbon with a pin. She tied the open end of the ribbon to the loop on Jackie's pacifier, and pinned the other end of the ribbon to the part of her onesie that stuck out on top of the shoulder straps of her shortalls. “We don't want your paci to fall out in the car while mommy and daddy are in the front seats, and can’t help you, right baby?” was the explanation that her mother gave her. “Time to go to the car, princess!” her mother continued. With a distinct sense of dread, Jackie allowed herself to be lifted down from the rocking chair. She began to crawl into the hallway, and once again bumped her way down the stairs. Her mother seemed to forgive her slow pace this time. Jackie had only left the house on a handful of occasions since she had become the family baby once again, but she knew the drill. She crawled her way to the door in the kitchen that led to the garage. There, her mother opened the door (babies weren't allowed to open doors, as she had learned early on in her new life) and allowed Jackie to bump down the three more stairs that led to the garage floor. “Take Mommy's hand so you don't go boom and make an ouchie,” her mother commanded, standing her up. The hand she was offered was perhaps more welcome than her mother knew. On an average day, the only time Jackie ever stood was to be put into and taken out of her highchair and to be raised onto or off of the changing table. In both of these instances Jackie was to crawl to the very spot where she would need to be standing in order to take the step up into her babyish position, and so most days she didn't take a single step while standing. All of this meant that, while Jackie could still walk, she was significantly worse at it than she had been before the months of inactivity had diminished her balance. Though Jackie walked due to the dirty garage floor, she didn't walk far. It was less than ten steps to the car. When she got there, her mother quickly gave her a boost up into the back seat of the mid-sized SUV that she normally drove. Jackie wondered for a split second why they were not taking her father's car, which they usually took when going on longer trips, but her answer came just as quickly when she remembered that her custom-made, adult-sized car seat had been installed in the rear of her mother's car and was quite a hassle to remove. Despite her misgivings about the trip, Jackie obediently settled herself into the seat and allowed her mother to strap her in. The restraint was extremely snug, especially in the areas where it came into contact with her extra thick nighttime diaper. “All right baby, you're all nice and safe for our ride! We have quite the trip ahead of us! We're going all the way to a place called Maine for a family reunion! You'll get to meet all of your aunts and uncles and cousins! They'll think you're so cute! But we have a long ride ahead of us, so you need to be a patient baby while we drive, ok?” Jackie resented so much of what she was told. She resented being treated like she'd never heard of Maine. She resented the idea that she would be traveling strapped in this car seat for a minimum of ten or so hours, given that her family lived in Virginia and she had no idea how far into Maine they were going. Most of all though, she resented that her parents were very clearly intent not just on bringing her to a family reunion in diapers, but on displaying her in her fully babied state when they got there. As she was still processing what would be happening to her, her mother continued “Daddy and I need to finish packing the car, so you sit tight, and we'll get on the road in just a few minutes.” “As if I have any choice,” Jackie thought, though she continued to simply suck on her pacifier. About ten minutes later, after the trunk behind her had been opened and closed several times, her parents finally got into the car. As her dad started the car, Jackie noted that the clock on the dashboard read 8:30. This made sense to her, as she was pretty sure she was normally awoken at around 7:00 in the morning. “Great,” she thought, “best case scenario, we won't get there until at least 6:30. Just in time for dinner and my 8 o'clock bedtime. This is going to be an even more boring day than usual.” After a quick stop at a local gas station, during which Jackie felt glad for the Elmo-themed sunblocker that sat in her window but also had the benefit of preventing any acquaintances outside of the car from seeing her in her infantile state within, Jackie's family was on the road. The monotony quickly set in for Jackie. Her mother had played her a CD of lullabies over the car stereo, but given that she had only just woken up from her 11 hours of sleep, she was nowhere near able to sleep yet. About an hour and a half after they got on the road, her mother passed back a bottle to Jackie and told her to drink up. She did as she was told, and it was followed by a second, in keeping with her normal morning routine. Beyond that though, there was virtually nothing for Jackie to do. With her dread setting in, Jackie found herself reflecting on how she came to be in her position. She had never expected to find herself even living at home at this point, not to mention doing so as the family baby. Back in May, Jackie had finished her college career. She had graduated with honors and was looking forward to embarking on an exciting career. However, since she had gone to school several states away, and wanted to get a job closer to home, Jackie hadn't yet begun the process of applying for jobs. She was quite unworried though. She knew that she had solid credentials and her parents had agreed to allow her to live at home until she had landed a job, which Jackie expected would take no more than a month or so. Jackie had no idea that her parents had other plans for her. As an only child, they had always thought that she had grown up too fast. Beyond that, though, they had grown increasingly disappointed in her behavior throughout college. Unlike her parents, who were both very successful lawyers, Jackie had no interest in the law. This had been a source of tension with her parents. They were also disappointed with her inability to make lasting friends at college. She had been unable to even tolerate any of her roommates at school. While her parents had been supportive over the phone, it was clear to them that Jackie was the source of conflict in each case and they were unable to gently persuade her that she should change her ways. When Jackie had returned home, they had told her all of this, and concluded that Jackie was essentially an arrogant brat. In fairness to Jackie, this wasn't totally true. Jackie wasn't mean spirited, by any stretch of the imagination. She was difficult to get along with, but part of that was just that she was difficult to communicate with because she was something of a loner as a result of being an only child. She didn't consider herself to be arrogant. Instead, she considered herself to be smart enough that she always knew what was best. Still, Jackie was never allowed a rebuttal to her parents' criticisms. They told her that they wanted the perfect little angel back that they had once had, and that they were going to get it. Within an hour of Jackie's return to her house, she was led up to her old bedroom, which had been thoroughly converted into a nursery in her size. Jackie soon found herself strapped onto the changing table, sobbing and wearing a diaper. Her mother and father explained to her that life would be very different from the one she had left. At its core, she was to live as a baby of approximately one year old, with all the trappings that came with it. Diapers were to be used, baby clothes to be worn and baby food to be eaten, plus all of the other indignities that were to become part of her daily life. Most shocking to Jackie, her mother would be retiring from her job to become a stay-at-home mom to her baby. When she was able to think rationally about it, Jackie had realized how serious her parents were. They had spent a lot of money to acquire all of the custom-made items that Jackie's new life would require. Her mother had left her job as well. While her family could easily afford both of these measures, they indicated that her parents intended to keep her as a baby for an extended period of time. This, as much as the news itself, came to be what bothered her the most. The uncertainty of when, if ever, she would be allowed to grow up made Jackie feel extremely uneasy and made it hard for her to stay positive. She desperately wished to be allowed to grow up one day, but was often afraid that it would never happen. Within the first few days, Jackie began to get the hang of her new life. Two things immediately stuck out at her. The first was that being treated as a baby was extremely humiliating. Feedings, changes, baths, outfits and bedtimes all made her blush furiously and, at first, often reduced her to tears or petulant fits. The second thing that she realized was just how boring being a baby was. Jackie spent hour after hour in her playpen, sometimes without even seeing her mother for more than an hour at a time. She was sometimes allowed to watch a lone episode children's television, but even then the most mature shows she was allowed to watch were taped episodes of Teletubbies, which was infinitely below her years and totally boring to her. When the television was off, only a few dolls and blocks were available to her, none of which really provided her any entertainment, even when her mother took them in her hands and played with them in front of Jackie's face while assigning them annoying, babyish voices. In the beginning, Jackie had fiercely resisted her role as the family baby. This didn't last long, however. Every time that she acted out, her parents found a way to punish her. The punishments were truly unbearable. Her parents never spanked her, except for a light swat on the outside of a diaper to correct the most minor of offenses. In truth, Jackie would probably have preferred to be spanked. Her parents instead gave her punishments designed to increase her boredom. Sometimes she was given extended naps or much earlier bedtimes. Early in her new life, Jackie had once found herself in her crib for the night at three thirty in the afternoon, which meant that she had been forced to lie there for 16 mind-numbing hours. That punishment was even worse then, because Jackie had not yet been able to adjust her sleep schedule and hadn't managed to fall asleep until close to 10 o'clock, more than six hours since she had first been put down for the night. Another hated punishment was a seemingly simple timeout. At first, Jackie had been forced to sit on a low stool during timeouts while facing the corner. However, her parents found that unless they sat there for the duration of her timeout, which for Jackie was normally at least 30 minutes and sometimes much, much longer, Jackie would simply try to get up in an act of further rebellion. They quickly put a stop to this by buying what Jackie considered to be the most horrible invention of all time. It was a baby bouncer that hung from the ceiling, but it was designed for adult-sized babies. During time outs, Jackie now found herself suspended from the ceiling for up to several hours at a time, with literally nothing to do and nowhere to go. Her first trip to the bouncer, which had lasted 90 minutes, left Jackie sobbing for more than an hour and vowing to herself that she would be good from now on. That had not happened, of course, but her obedience had improved significantly from that moment forward. Looking back, it seemed to Jackie that she had settled into her life as a baby with an alarming speed. Within little more than two weeks, she had basically accepted her new life and grown accustomed to it. She realized that much of this owed to the fact that, for the most part, she ran on a simple daily routine of meals, bottle feedings, play time, and bed times, with little that ever interrupted it. This made Jackie somewhat numb to the ordeal that she was going through and sped up the process of accepting it. About the only time Jackie's day ever changed was when she had a “play date.” She had had four thus far, all with the same girl. That girl, Stephanie, was two years older than Jackie, and had been being treated like a baby by her parents for over four years. Jackie could never figure out how her parents had ever discovered such a playmate for her, as she had never met Stephanie and lived almost an hour away from her. Jackie had twice been to Stephanie's house, and twice Stephanie had visited hers'. Each time had been incredibly awkward for the two girls. They were expected to kiss each other fully on the lips as a way of greeting each other, and then Jackie had to endure a round of kisses from Stephanie's nanny (a babysitter only slightly older than the two babies actually were who Stephanie's parents had hired to watch over their oversized bundle of joy while they were at work) while Stephanie was similarly doted on by Jackie's mother. After that, the two were expected to play with each other while sharing a playpen. This often proved to be incredibly frustrating, however, as while it was the rare time that either of them was encouraged to speak (at least while providing voices for their dolls), neither of them could really say anything intelligible from behind their oversized pacifiers, which they were still forced to suck even as they played. The result was that the girls had to endure a few awkward hours of babbling at each other before being fed lunch. After that, they would inevitably find themselves cuddling in a crib where they were to remain absolutely silent and take a nap, each all too aware of the presence of another in a bed that was normally the site of solitary confinement. After nap time, the play date would always end with another round of humiliatingly mushy kisses and then a long trip back home in a tight car seat for whichever girl was visiting on that day. Though Jackie didn't mind the idea of a change in routine in theory, in practice she always found it exhausting and couldn't wait until it was over. Jackie had been absentmindedly reminiscing for over an hour when she was interrupted by the car slowing down and entering into a small roadside picnic area that also included restrooms. She realized that if her parents had talked over the decision in the front seat, she had totally missed it. Glancing at the clock, she realized that it was just past noon, and Jackie surmised that it may be lunchtime. She hadn't really even thought of how that would work. All of Jackie's consternation had been reserved for the specter of a diaper change on the road. Quickly though, she realized that despite her diaper that seemed to be nowhere near the point where she would be changed, this too would be quite an ordeal. Fortunately for Jackie, only a few cars seemed to have chosen this secluded rest stop for their break on the road. Her parents each took a turn visiting the restroom, while the other babbled nonsense to Jackie, asking her if she knew how cute she was and whether she was ready to eat a yummy lunch. Although the answer to the latter question was a resounding “no” in Jackie's head, she soon saw her mother preparing a picnic table on the far end of the rest stop from her vantage point in the car seat. Before long, both parents were out of the car and rummaging in the trunk. After what seemed like a surprisingly long time, Jackie's father opened the back door of the car and unbuckled his oversized toddler. As he slid Jackie out of the seat and moved her towards the door, she began to realize what had taken so long. Jackie was surprised to see an adult-sized stroller waiting for her on the ground. This was another item making its debut on the trip. Before she had even finished processing the device, Jackie was seated inside of it. The canopy top may have protected her from the sun somewhat, but it felt to her like it couldn't have done less to conceal its occupant from any outside gazes. To her relief, none of the few other people seemed to pay any attention to their party at all, and her disgraceful new ride was, at least for now, kept as her little secret. Jackie was pushed over to the secluded picnic table that her mother had chosen, and the stroller was situated so that it was facing the end of one of the benches. Within seconds a totally nondescript bib had been fastened around Jackie's neck, and she realized that she was about to be fed while still in her stroller. “This will be interesting,” thought Jackie, noting that the stroller had her facing upwards in an effort to keep her low to the ground without forcing her to drag her feet. Indeed, it was interesting. In addition to being a cold feed, since her mother was unable to heat up the disgusting blend of beef and vegetables baby food as she normally would have at home, the angle seemed to throw off the coordination of mommy and baby, resulting in an even more messy face than Jackie was accustomed to. Other than that though, the feed was pleasant enough, and Jackie ultimately suffered no more indignity outside than she would have had she been inside, though the worry that she would kept her constantly on edge. Only after she had finished the bottle that her mother held with one hand while eating a sandwich with the other did Jackie's anxiety truly begin to subside. Her parents finished their food, and soon Jackie had been cleaned up and pushed back to the car. After a quick diaper check confirmed that she had a few hours of safety left, Jackie was returned to her car seat and her parents began to reload the car for the next leg of the journey. As the car rejoined the light traffic on the freeway, Jackie was reminded by her mommy that it was nap time and that she should go to sleep. In reality, Jackie needed no reminder. She resented the naps, especially since she also spent about 11 hours in bed each night, but Jackie had also learned to sleep during them. Like a baby, Jackie now truly needed to nap during the day, or else she wouldn't make it all the way through the night. With the relatively happy thoughts of her embarrassment-free lunch still in her head, Jackie quickly drifted into a docile sleep. A little over an hour and a half later, Jackie was lightly stirred by her mother, who had reached an arm back from the back seat. As Jackie groggily rubbed her eyes, her mother said “Wakey-Wakey, beautiful. Mommy doesn't want you to sleep too long and ruin your night time sleep.” Just a moment later, Jackie was passed a bottle to drink. Normally she would have had that bottle in her crib while her mother cuddled her and woke her up, but this was obviously impossible in the car. Instead, Jackie fed herself the dreadful formula and wished there was a way to be able to avoid just such a thing. Traffic seemed to still be moving well enough, and Jackie saw that it was about 2:15 on the car clock. She couldn't figure out where they were based on road signs because of the screen on the window, but Jackie guessed that they must be making good time. Jackie wasn't really sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. It was only a few minutes after her bottle that her father pulled the car off into a rest area. Jackie wasn't totally sure what the reason could be for this stop. When she realized that this was simply a parking area and that there weren't any restrooms here for her parents to use, she was even more confused. Her mother got out of the car and went into the trunk, but was only there for a second. Before Jackie could figure out where she had gone, the door nearest to her seat was opened and her father began to get her out of the car. “What's going on?” thought Jackie, still a little groggy from sleep. This time, as she was helped down, Jackie saw that there was no stroller for her to be placed in, which she considered a mercy, even though the parking area was completely deserted and she was unlikely to be seen by anyone but the motorists passing several hundred feet away on the highway. Just two steps around the car made Jackie forget her sense of comfort, and if it hadn't been for her dad's suddenly tight grip on her hand and her wobbly, unused legs, Jackie might have tried to run back around to the other side of the car. Her mother was standing at a nearby picnic table, and laid out on the table was her changing mat, along with a fresh diaper and all the supplies needed to change Jackie into it. Jackie's dad practically dragged her the remaining few steps to the table, and a quick warning spank was needed before she could be boosted up onto the table. The idea of an outdoor change, even in this relatively anonymous location, had Jackie petrified, and she found herself in tears for the second time that day. Both of her parents were cooing at her, but it was her mother that she heard clearly. “Now, now, baby, its time for our little princess to have her diaper changed. We don't want you to get a leak and ruin your pretty clothes and make your car seat all wet, do we?” Though Jackie was used to being changed, the process was particularly horrible this time. Soon, the snaps on each of her layers of clothing had been unbuckled. With the diaper now on display, Jackie was a wreck, barely even able to see out of her sobbing eyes. When that diaper was opened and Jackie was exposed to the open air, she froze. Her focus was on the road, and the entrance into the parking area. Jackie lost all perspective, and as her mother wiped the excess urine off of her diaper area and dropped the wipes into the used diaper, she was certain that every car on the road could not only see her, but could tell that she was far too old to be in need of a diaper change from her mother on the side of the road. The change itself was actually quite efficient, but to Jackie, it took an eternity. Her mother's thorough powdering was taking forever in her eyes, and even after she was mercifully taped back in to another thick disposable (an experience she never thought she would consider merciful), she wished her mother would hurry up and button her back in to the comparatively less embarrassing baby clothes. Finally, Jackie was boosted up off of the table. Her mother escorted her back to the car, while her father disposed of the sodden diaper and gathered up the supplies and returned them to her diaper bag. Less than ten minutes after they had entered the rest area, they were back on the road. As they re-entered the highway, Jackie felt herself let out a small, involuntary stream of urine, and silently cursed herself for being unable to enjoy the luxury of a dry seat for even a few minutes. The afternoon portion of the ride soon proved to be the most monotonous for Jackie. She would have liked to have had at least a stupid baby toy to play with in the back of the car, but all she could do was stare at the back of her mother's seat, as the screen that shielded her eyes from the sun also served to prevent her from being able to even so much as stare out the window. At this point, Jackie's mind was filled with nothing but dread. She had been to one family reunion several years prior, and if this was to be anything like that experience, she worried about what to expect. Given that they were on their way to Maine, she was almost sure that they would be visiting with her father's side of the family, who almost all hailed from that state. She vividly remembered that, at the last reunion, she had been the youngest person there at age twelve. This owed to the fact that her father was about five years younger than each of his siblings and cousins. All of them had had children a little earlier than her parents had had Jackie, as well, so the result was that all of the other youths at that reunion had been at least in their mid-teens. Jackie wondered if they would all be in attendance now, in their mid-twenties, or if they would be off living lives of their own. She also couldn't help but fear that she would be viciously made fun of by those closest to her own actual age, as they would see her as a weak excuse for an adult who was entirely worthy of their mockery. All of this dread made the time pass very slowly. The two bottles that she was given in quick succession around three o'clock didn't really help time pass any slower, though they did remind Jackie just how much she hated baby formula. She found herself praying for a distraction. Perhaps if Jackie had thought about who might hear those prayers, she would have thought twice about making them. If anybody was watching over her very closely, it seemed to her that they had a sick sense of humor to allow her to be converted so thoroughly into the infantile creature she had become. The distraction she was sent confirmed that the joke really was on her. Only a few minutes after Jackie finished the second of her bottles and once again was commanded to begin sucking on the giant nipple of the pacifier dangling from her shirt, a familiar and dreaded pressure took hold in Jackie's abdomen. Immediately, she knew that she was in deep trouble. “I can't! Not here, in this tiny little car seat! I have to hold it!” she thought. Even as she thought it though, Jackie knew that it was basically no use. She knew that at this point, by the time she knew that she had a problem, she didn't have much time left. Unlike her bladder, Jackie still retained a semblance of control over her bowels. However, had she been allowed to not use her diaper, she imagined that her level of control would be similar to that of a beginning potty-trainer, who needed to be rushed to the bathroom as soon as they asked in order to prevent an accident. In the desperate fight against time, time won. Within about ten minutes of increasingly agonizing pressure, Jackie's will to fight broke. She knew, however, that this would be as difficult of a mess as there was, as she was secured tightly to her seat and had no way to shift so that she could raise a leg. Jackie pushed, and hard. When Jackie let out a rather loud, involuntary grunt, the idle conversation between her parents in the front seat ended abruptly. Fortunately for Jackie, she was so focused that she didn't really notice the small chuckles that her beet red face earned. The floodgates took a few moments to open. They finally did so with a pair of short, noisy farts that Jackie was decidedly not too focused to miss. Her embarrassment continued to grow as the quiet sound of several gushes of a soft, mushy mess slid into her diaper. One more push sent a final wave into the seat of her pants, and Jackie's exhausted body relaxed back, sinking her into her own filth. It was obvious that Jackie's parents were well aware what had happened, but they let the moment breathe for a moment. Finally, her mother asked what might have been the most unnecessary question possible. “Did my baby make a stinky in her diapee? Pee-Whew, I think so! Somebody is a smelly baby!” This was practically a routine when Jackie was discovered to have messed herself, but that didn't make it any easier for Jackie to bear. There was still no end to her embarrassment when she found herself declared a stinky baby while sitting in a diaper full of her own poop. A moment later, her father said, “Can you stand it well enough?” “Yes,” her mother said, “if you can. We only just changed her into this diaper an hour and a half ago, and if she hadn't made a mess she could have lasted until Maine. She can wait a little while anyways.” “Sounds good,” her dad answered. “Great,” Jackie thought. “A poopy diaper for as long as they wish, and then the worst change of my life!” As the poop cooled and began to itch, not to mention smell, Jackie thought about just how much she hated messing her diapers. It had most definitely been the hardest part of her terrible new life to accept. She had resisted all pooping for the first three days of her babyhood, and tried to remove her diaper when she finally did need to give in to the urge. She had been caught, and put into locking plastic pants on that occasion, then been forced to take an extended nap in freshly messed diapers before finally being changed. The experience had taught her that she was best off not trying to avoid using her diaper, because she would only wind up wearing her waste for longer. Still, while Jackie had accepted that she would need to mess eventually, at first she had held out for as long as possible before doing the dirty deed. She only messed a few huge messes the first week or two, as she continued to hold on for as long as she could. Slowly, though, that changed. She had become somewhat accustomed to the messes and the humiliating changes that always followed, and she didn't see the need to strain so heavily to keep her urges held back. Additionally, the consistency of her poop had forced her hand somewhat. Her diet, which consisted of literally nothing that needed to be chewed, turned her mess into a far more liquidy beast than it had been during her adult life. Not only did this make her poop start to smell much more like that of a real baby's than that of an adult, but it also made it even harder to hold on for days at a time. Over time, she returned to the one-mess-a-day pattern that she had normally held during her previous life. But even that didn't hold. In part because Jackie made increasingly less of an effort to hold on when she felt the need, she found that almost as often as not she now found herself in a messy diaper twice a day instead of her usual once. She told herself that this was due to the fact that she was fed more food than she had been eating when she had made her own choices, which had an element of truth to it, but much of it had to do with a steady loss of control, which was a fact she denied to herself. Jackie really, really hated “having stinkies,” as her mother often called a messy diaper. She tried to do it when she was alone in a room as often as possible, because the act of pooping herself in front of others was still too much to bear easily. When her mother did discover a mess in her pants, however, she always seemed to suddenly be quite busy. Even when she had, to her great shame, messed during one of her play dates, she had stayed seated in her smelly prison for over a half an hour, and while it had been a little shorter than the average amount of time that she was left to stew before she was cleaned up, she had been mortified, though later she had still felt superior to Stephanie when she had messed herself during naptime and had stunk up the crib to the point that Jackie could hardly sleep. The mess had long since cooled and become itchy by the time Jackie felt the car once again slowing down and pulling into a highway rest area. She had actually been glad the first time they had passed a rest stop, because she had realized that it was one of the ones that had gas stations and food options and was so crowded that she would have been entirely sure to have been seen. But as other, quieter rest areas had passed without a stop, she had become increasingly despondent. She desperately wanted to be changed before they got to the reunion, but it seemed like it was possible that that luxury was not coming. As they pulled into a parking spot in the mostly empty parking lot, however, the knot in Jackie's stomach simply changed purpose. She was still filled with dread, but now it was because she knew she would be changed from a messy diaper in an at least somewhat public setting. She knew that messy changes were not at all like wet changes. They were slow, owing to the way that feces caked all over her diaper area, and required even more time in the humiliatingly-exposed, legs-up position. When Jackie was pulled out of the car, she looked around for the picnic table she would be led to, but never found it. Instead, she was lead around to the tailgate of the SUV and lifted up, leading to one final, disgusting squishing of her mess around her diaper before she was laid back on the changing mat, which had been placed in a small opening in the trunk just big enough for her upper body to fit in. “Change time, princess!” her father announced, as if it were not the most obvious statement in human history. Her mother did the actual changing. Jackie's diaper was soon opened, and the momentous task of wiping her filthy, smelly anus began. Jackie was unsure whether she felt better or worse being unable to see outside the car past her mother. She knew for sure, though, that her legs and some of her bottom were on display out of the back of the car. That made her uncomfortable for sure, but she could allow herself to think that she may have looked a little more like any other baby from this angle. The wiping finally ended, and after a thorough powdering, another diaper was taped up. For the first time that day, Jackie found herself only wearing a daytime diaper. While it was still quite thick and very noticeable under her clothing, it was not even close to how thick the billowing nighttime diapers were. Jackie felt fortunate to know that the first time she met her family at the reunion her diapers would at the very least not make her bottom look almost twice its normal size. As she got out of the trunk and back to her feet, she realized that, from afar, her change had just been watched by an astonished young couple, perhaps a year or two older than her at most, who appeared to have been hiking in the woods before returning to their car. The male cried out “Cute baby! Isn't she a little big though?!” from across the lot. “We've got our hands full!” her mother responded, as her husband buckled a mortified Jackie back into her car seat. “Big baby, big poopies!” Jackie had perhaps never been more embarrassed in her life. Tears came cascading down her face as her parents disposed of the dirty diaper and got into the car. The tears earned Jackie little more than a shushing and bottle of nasty formula, and Jackie wished for all she was worth that the world would open up and swallow her. “Just another hour and a half until we get there baby!” her father explained, making it clear Jackie was supposed to be excited. Jackie looked at the clock, and saw that it was about 5:15. She still didn't know exactly where they were going, but she could now guess that it was very close to her grandparents house. She remembered that when her family had last held a reunion they had rented out a very large house where everyone had stayed. She guessed that this would be the case this time as well. The imminent arrival would give her a much better idea of what to expect, though, and she was particularly in the dark as to how her status as a baby might impact her trip. The final stretch of the ride actually passed a little faster than the rest of the trip had for Jackie, mostly because she was distracted with her thoughts of her latest diaper change. She could not shake the fact that a couple of her approximate age, and especially a fairly attractive young man, had seen her compliantly lie still while her exposed privates were wiped clean of poop. Thinking about the past made her temporarily forget her dread of the future, and Jackie was surprised that they were so near when they got off the highway an hour later. It was still another twenty minutes before they finally arrived, but by then the dread had set back in for Jackie, and she was officially back to wanting to be anywhere else in the world. “We're here, baby!” her mother explained as she removed Jackie from the car seat and, oddly in Jackie's opinion, set her straight down into her new stroller. “Here” turned out to be a very large, lakeside building that had a massive front yard. The stroller started to make a little more sense when Jackie saw that she would be pushed several hundred feet up the hill from where the car was parked to where the house was actually located. “Now, princess,” her father said, bending down to put his face right in hers, “Daddy knows that this is a very exciting weekend for you, but you need to be on your best behavior for Mommy and Daddy or you will be in very big trouble. Is that understood, little girl?” This was one of the questions that Jackie was trained to answer. “Yeth Daddy, me am gonna be a puhfect angel,” she lisped from behind her pacifier, though the promise was nothing more than what she was required to say. The stroller ride took a minute or two. A few feet before the door, Jackie's grandmother and aunt came out to greet them. “Hi!” the two women shouted in unison. “Hey Mom, hey Sally, it’s great to see you!” her dad answered. Hugs were exchanged, and her mother also shared greetings. For just a moment, Jackie thought that she was going to be ignored, but she was not so lucky. Suddenly, from behind her, Aunt Sally emerged, and then she was not only not being ignored, but the center of attention. “Hellll-o Baby Jackie,” she bellowed, no more than three inches from her face. “It's your Auntie Sally! It's so exciting to see you, cutie-pie! We all love you very much!” Then she plopped a loud, wet kiss on Jackie's face. The exercise was repeated by her grandmother, and then her mother reached around and removed her enormous pacifier. “Give nana and auntie a kiss, baby,” her mother instructed. Jackie, of course, was still strapped into the stroller, so she had to wait for each of the women to come to her. When they did, in turn, Jackie pressed her lips against them, and pushed her tongue out while sort of half-shouting “mmmmmm-aah!” as she had been taught to do when ordered to kiss someone. Both women positively squealed at the kiss. “Oh my goodness!” exclaimed her aunt. “She kisses just like a real baby!” “She is a real baby,” her mother responded, “in every way you can imagine. She's our beautiful little bundle of joy.” “I can think of a few ways I'm different than a real baby,” Jackie thought, but even if she had actually wished to offer that opinion, she wouldn't have been able to, because her mother pushed the pacifier back into her mouth. “Let's head inside,” her father said. “We don't want the baby to catch a cold.” Jackie was pushed the last few steps to the house, and then was unbuckled from the stroller. She was lifted up under the shoulders by her dad, took one step up over the threshold, and then, without needing to be told, immediately dropped to her knees. “That's so adorable! Does she always crawl?” asked her grandmother. “Of course, just like any other baby,” her mother responded. “I love how her cute little diapered butt waddles back and forth when she crawls,” her aunt said. “So cute.” Jackie's face was turning beet red, but since she was facing the floor it wasn't totally clear to the others in the room. She wasn't really sure where she was going, so she slowed herself as she reached the end of the entry hallway. “I'll show you to your room so you can get all settled,” said her grandmother. “That would be great, Helen.” her mother responded. “Do you mind watching the baby for a minute while we bring everything in?” “I'd love to! Feel free to run back out to the car if you need to too. I've got the baby. Don't I Jackie? I think I do. I think I do.” Jackie wished the floor would swallow her, but it of course did not. As everyone else left the room, her grandmother crossed over to the sofa and beckoned her to her. Jackie crawled over to her grandmother. A pat on her knee and a pair of hands under the shoulders told Jackie to climb up onto her grandmother's lap. When she sat there, she realized just how close her face was to her grandmother's. The ridiculousness of the situation was driven home when she saw that she was a head taller than her grandmother when sitting on her lap. Even still, any thought of defiance melted away in shame almost instantly when two fingers went probing into the front of her diaper. “Oops,” announced her grandmother. “Somebody has had a little accident.” Jackie just continued to suck on her pacifier. She hated to admit it, but the pacifier had become a source of comfort for her over her second period as a baby. It allowed her an excuse to say nothing (not that she was really allowed to) and made it possible for her to focus on something other than her moments of most extreme humiliation, even if the coping method was admittedly shameful in itself. Still, in times like these when she had nowhere to hide, it somehow made time move a little faster. She endured many kisses and cheek pinches from her grandmother, but before she knew it her mother came into the room and declared themselves ready to give the baby a nice feed before bathtime and bedtime. After a quick crawl to the kitchen, Jackie stood up and prepared to get into the highchair. Only then did she realize that her parents must have ensured that there was a highchair present for her. The knowledge that even while they were away from home her parents were this concerned about such details made Jackie sick. As she climbed in, another aspect of the highchair struck her. It was meant for real babies! Jackie didn't really realize it at first, but her mother had to sort of push her in in order for her diapered hips to squeeze into the seat. The strap had to be loosened all the way to fit her, and the tray could barely reach the locking mechanism, and even then was making Jackie feel like her stomach was much bigger than it truly was. When she was settled, she realized that her toes were very close to reaching the ground, which was never true in her much larger version of baby furniture at home. The feeding was at once no different than any other and as humiliating as any Jackie had ever experienced. She choked down the usual concoction of atrocious baby foods, had the same amount of it spilled down her face, and got all of the usual comments that her mother always made. It was the peanut gallery that made her so dreadfully uncomfortable. The comments about the faces she made when the food hit her tongue, about how messy of a little girl she was, how adorable she looked and how obedient she was that rang out from her aunt and grandmother were all enough to make it quite clear that this was no normal supper that could have happened at home. All through the bottle feeding that followed, during which both her grandmother and her aunt had the opportunity to hold the drink up while Jackie sat helplessly, her father answered all questions and comments as if he were some sort of tour guide for the dinner. All of his answers, of course, seemed designed to emphasize that Jackie was a baby, and that her actions were just like those of any other baby as well. After the fuss of dinner, Jackie was exceedingly grateful for the relative privacy of bathtime. Only she and her mother retreated into a bathroom near the room her parents would be staying in, though Jackie suspected that this privacy was not due with a desire to provide Jackie with modesty as much as it was because the bathroom hardly had room to lay her down and take off her clothes and wet diaper without any other visitors. The bath moved quickly enough, with her mother doing a thorough but efficient job washing Jackie, just as she did every night. As she began to drain the tub, her mother looked down at Jackie, tweaked her pacifier, and told her “I know it's a few minutes earlier than normal, but as soon as you are dressed and everyone has said goodnight, you are going to go to bed, baby. You've had a long day, and you have another exciting adventure ahead of you tomorrow.” If she had expected that Jackie would be upset, Jackie couldn't really understand why. She didn't really know what time it was, but guessed it was really only a few minutes early. Besides, Jackie was indeed emotionally spent and wouldn't mind being able to get away from all of the attention she was facing by retreating to bed. She had just been glad for the second bath that had earlier apparently been in doubt. She was helped out of the tub and onto the changing mat. After being quickly taped into yet another nighttime diaper, the fourth she had worn at some point that day, she was told to get up. Her mother led her out into the hall. To her horror, instead of being lead into whatever room would be serving as her nursery, she was lead back into the kitchen still as naked as the day she was born with the exception of her diaper, although she was certainly a little more self conscious of her breasts than she had been more than two decades earlier during her true infancy. “The pizza is almost here, honey,” her father said. “Has baby Jackie come to say goodnight?” “Yes she has,” her mother answered. “Get up on just your knees, baby. Everyone is going to give you a kiss, and then I'm going to get you ready for beddy-byes.” Reluctantly, Jackie did as she was told. On all fours, at least her boobs had been somewhat concealed. Kneeling like this made them totally exposed, although if anyone besides her noticed in the slightest they did a convincing job hiding it. Soon she was back on her hands and crawling back down the hall once more, having been kissed condescendingly on the top of the head and told that she should rest up for what promised to be an exciting day to come. “Exciting for everyone except me,” Jackie had thought, but she certainly kept that thought to herself. Jackie was a little surprised to be led into her parents' room. She was never allowed into her parents' room at home, and was told that she could only go into rooms that were safe for little girls, which her parents' room apparently was not somehow. She assumed this exception must be because her suitcase was in the room, but when she got in there another surprise awaited. Sitting at the foot of the bed was a small, baby sized portable playpen/crib that Jackie recognized acted as something of a traveling crib for infants. To her mind, it was impossibly small, but she immediately had no doubt where she would be spending the night. She was half lifted, half dragged onto the bed by her mother. There she had a footed sleeper, which seemed too warm to Jackie, put on her. It was quickly followed by what she knew would be the last of her daily bottles of the sickly baby formula, in case there wasn't enough that would already be finding its way into her diaper over the course of the night. After the bottle, it was down from the bed directly into the “safe bed” as her mother decided to call it, as if Jackie needed the clarification between the two to be made. The portable crib was just as tiny as it looked. From the slight wobble it made when she entered it, Jackie could tell it was on wheels. Jackie had no chance of getting comfortable. She lied on her stomach, which was how she was always told to lie, ostensibly so that she wouldn't spit up in her mouth and choke, like other small babies might. Given that this wouldn't be an issue with Jackie, it was just another way to make her seem like a baby. Tonight, with only about three and a half feet of length in her crib instead of the normal six, she had it even worse. With her head all the way at the top of the pillow, she still had to bow her knees all the way out to the side of the crib in order to fit lengthwise, and she was thankful for the soft sides of the crib for a little extra leeway. This position didn't last however. Her mother couldn't get her swaddled in her enormous baby blanket the way she normally did, so she commanded that Jackie get onto her side and into a rather tight fetal position. From there, she was able to provide her normal wrapping job on Jackie. As usual, it was uncomfortably tight. Jackie spent all of her nights essentially unable to move. It was normally a good deal looser by morning, but Jackie was, and no doubt on purpose, essentially unable to move before she fell asleep each night. Tonight, she could tell, would be especially uncomfortable. The position was worsened by the fact that the sleeper was too warm and, combined with the blanket, Jackie figured to be even warmer than she normally was during sleep, which she already considered to be too hot. “Nighty-night, baby Jackie,” her mother said, giving her a kiss on the forehead. “Mommy and Daddy will be in in a little while to go to bed too, but we will do our best not to wake up our little sleepyhead. Sweet dreams!” Jackie fell asleep quickly, but her dreams were not exactly sweet. She dreamed that she was an adult again, wandering around the reunion as any other family member would. At first, this made it a good dream. But, as she was interacting with cousins, aunts and uncles, she quite suddenly became the focus of attention. Her dream-self looked down and was greeted with the sight of a growing wet spot on the front of her stylish, white shorts. Quickly, the looks turned to taunts and she was told to go find her mommy and called a baby. Jackie awoke with a start. The warmth in her damp diaper told her that the accident in her dream might not have actually been fiction. She was hot, cramped, and unable to move, just as she had been when she had fallen asleep. Jackie knew it was going to be a few moments before she could get back to sleep. The dream had rattled her a bit. It seemed even her subconscious didn't think she could handle being an adult. If she couldn't convince herself, she mused, how could she ever convince her parents that she was ready to be a big girl again? Jackie couldn't tell what time it was, but she sensed that it must be sometime in the dead of night, based upon the total lack of light and the rhythmic breathing she could hear coming from the bed above her. The room was much darker than she was used to, as her nursery at home contained a small nightlight. At first that had driven her crazy, as she didn't really like light while she slept, and she certainly didn't appreciate being told that it was there so she wouldn't be afraid of the dark, but she was now used to it, and she was somewhat surprised by her eyes inability to adjust. Ultimately, both the nightmare and the discomforting lack of light were no match for Jackie's tiredness, and the next thing that she knew she was being woken up to the sound of her mother's morning cooing. She began to unwrap Jackie from the tight blanket as Jackie muttered out her groggy “Good morning, Mommy,” which came as a great relief for Jackie. Once she was freed from the blanket, she was boosted up and onto the bed. Jackie felt tremendously sweaty. As she stretched her legs out, she felt very stiff as well, no doubt a result of her tight sleeping quarters. Jackie had little time to get comfortable, as her mother slid her right back down onto the floor, and in one motion she found herself on all fours. In no time, she was crawling out into the hallway behind her mother. Entering the kitchen, Jackie was greeted with the hellos of her father, aunt and grandmother. She lisped out “hewwo ewybawdy” from behind her pacifier in response, which seemed to to satisfy everyone. Soon Jackie was lifted up into the highchair and the tray was stuffed into the locking mechanism tight against Jackie's chest. The microwave was soon at work heating her oatmeal. Her aunt brought over a bib, and after a quick kiss on the top of the head, moved around Jackie's back and fastened it around her neck. Her aunt crossed the kitchen and removed the oatmeal from the microwave. She grabbed Jackie's baby spoon and moved back over to the highchair. Jackie quickly realized that it wouldn't be her mother who would be feeding her this morning. “Open up for the airplane!” her aunt commanded, which Jackie was already obediently doing. The feeding was really quite like normal. Her aunt made sure she ate it all, except for the portion that she made sure wound up on Jackie's face and bib. She kept the food coming at a relatively quick rate, and continued to keep up a constant chatter of coos about Jackie's status as a baby. Despite all of the ways that the feeding was similar to what it would have been like had it been her mother, the fact that it was not kept Jackie squirming with humiliation throughout the ordeal. Finally, she reached the end of the bowl of mush. Two bottles were quickly brought over, and Jackie got another kiss on the forehead from her aunt as she tipped back her neck and pushed the nipple into her still-messy mouth. As Jackie began to suck, her father made the announcement she had been dreading. “Looks like Bill and Sarah are here!” he said. Bill was his brother, making him Jackie's uncle and his wife Sarah her aunt. Jackie had always particularly liked Aunt Sarah, and really didn't want to be seen by her like this. Her instincts told her to try to wriggle away from the bottle, even though she was strapped in the highchair and didn't really have anywhere to go, but her aunt was ready for her anyway. She held the bottle tight and put her spare hand on the back of Jackie's head, keeping her in the humiliating suckling position, and quietly said “Don't worry baby, you just drink your milk. Uncle Bill and Auntie Sarah will be here in a minute and you can see them then.” Trapped, Jackie did as she was told. The rest of the family started to move outside to greet her aunt and uncle. Jackie was just starting her second bottle when everybody came in. “Oh there she is!” her aunt exclaimed. “You're so cute! I'm your Auntie Sarah, Baby!” Sarah planted a kiss on Jackie's head, and Jackie wanted to melt at the way her aunt acted as if she was a newborn that she was meeting for the first time. It only got worse when Sarah's next comment, which was directed at her mother and seemed to assume that Jackie was too little to understand, reminded her that her face was still a mess from her oatmeal. With little other choice, Jackie, slurped down the rest of her formula. The commotion meant that it was actually another minute or two after she finished before her Aunt Sally realized that she had finished. She set the bottle on the tray of the highchair and used the clean spots of Jackie's bib to wipe the loose oatmeal off of Jackie's face. She removed the bib and brought it, along with the dishes, over to the sink. Her mother took over, using a baby wipe to thoroughly clean the stickiness off of her face and then removed the tray from the chair. She unbuckled her daughter and helped her down to the floor. As Jackie dropped to her knees, her mother told her “I have the most wonderful new dress for you to wear today for when you meet them! Let's go get you out of your diapee and make you look like a pretty little angel!” “Perfect,” thought Jackie. “I can't wait to look like an angel when I meet everyone.” She didn't say that out loud, of course, as she wasn't expected to say anything and certainly wasn't allowed to let fly with such sarcasm. Instead she obediently began crawling down the hall and back to the room she had shared with her parents the night before. Once she reached the room, her mother motioned for her to move towards the bed, giving her a boost when she got there to help her up. Jackie lied there while her mother rustled in a bag below the bed. She soon returned to view, and Jackie saw that she had in her hands wipes, powder, a diaper, and a changing pad. She put the changing pad and supplies down next to Jackie and helped her sit back up on the bed. Her mother took off her footed sleeper and set it aside, leaving Jackie in just her diaper as she was guided onto the changing pad. It wasn't long before the diaper was gone as well, and Jackie was soon being wiped and powdered by her mother, who then expertly diapered her once more before returning to the suitcase below the bed. Jackie scarcely had time to reflect on how she was simply lying on the bed and waiting to be humiliatingly dressed for her humiliating day before her mother returned, holding an armful of clothes that Jackie knew were destined to wind up on her. The clothes were put down above her head so she couldn't see them, and she had to wait for them to be put on to catch a glimpse. “You're going to look so adorable, little one!” her mother commented as she brought the first item to the foot of the bed. It was a simple pair of white tights, which were quickly slid up Jackie's legs and stretched over her diaper. Next came a pair of frilly panties that went over the tights and settled over the diaper. The panties themselves were white, but both the front and back featured layers of blue, lacy frills that rendered most of the white invisible. The tights were followed with the main attraction: a blue dress that clearly had been made to match the panties. Her mother sat her up, and the dress was pulled down over Jackie's head, and she had an opportunity to take in the dress for the first time. It had white shoulder panels that gathered to an elastic only a few inches into the sleeve, creating a distinct, babyish puff. It hugged her upper torso somewhat tightly, but fell away off her chest in baby-doll style. But, Jackie noticed, it didn't fall far. Sitting still and straight upright, it still barely came to her waistline. Jackie was sure that all of the frills on her panties would be on display even when she was at her most modest, and knew that even those frills would do nothing to hide the bulge of the thirsty diaper that was concealed underneath them. Jackie could feel her mother pull her hair into a ponytail behind her, which was surprising, given that she normally found herself wearing pigtails to accentuate her childish status. But before Jackie had had much time to wonder what the ponytail meant, she got her answer. She felt something pulled over her head, and then her mother was tying a bow underneath her chin. Jackie could see above her a blue brim turning into white lace, and knew she had just been tied into an oversized bonnet that not only made her look even more ridiculous than she already did, but also served to limit her peripheral vision somewhat and make her feel even more useless than usual. Still, her outfit wasn't quite complete. Her mother added a pair of frilly socks that went over her tights and came up to her ankles, and added a pair of black Mary Jane shoes that fastened with a buckle. “You look so precious!” her mother exclaimed. Jackie thought she probably looked stupid, but kept that opinion to herself. “Oh, one more thing.” her mother added. She rustled around in the bag on the floor for another second, and returned with a blue pacifier, which she quickly swapped with the pink one that Jackie normally sucked. It was identical to the other except for color, but the coordination was just another level of humiliation for Jackie. “Perfect!” her mother almost shouted. “Let's go out and show everyone how pretty you look!” Jackie was led out into the kitchen again, where her family did indeed find her to be just as cute as her mother. The compliments poured in from all over, but Jackie didn't find any of them particularly flattering. All of them commented on how little she looked, and many also made note of just how much of her diapers could be seen. The limited vision that she had because of the bonnet helped Jackie to keep her eyes focused squarely on the floor that she was crouched upon. Mercifully, she wasn't forced to remain at everyone's feet in the kitchen for too long. After a minute or two, her father came into the kitchen, although Jackie hadn't even noticed that he hadn't been there until she saw him returning. He motioned to her, and said “I put your playpen out in the living room. Why don't you come play with your toys.” She crawled after him. She wasn't really sure where the living room was, but she was sure that she didn't care, because it couldn't be worse than the kitchen had been for her. She turned down a different hallway in the large house and came out into what was a quite large room. It had several open doorways that led to bedrooms, and also had a sliding door leading to a large deck and the backyard. Inside the room was an enormous couch that looked like it could seat a dozen people. Sure enough, her father had set up her playpen on the side of the couch. She crawled over to it, and was helped to her feet by her father. He put his hand on her diapered bottom and boosted her up and over the railing and into the playpen. Inside the playpen, Jackie found three stuffed cloth blocks, a rattle, and a doll in place of the blanket and pillow that had been in there when it had served as her crib the night before. Her father bent over and kissed Jackie on her head. He then demonstratively turned on a baby monitor, reminding Jackie to be a good baby and assuring her that they would bring everyone in to meet her when they arrived for the reunion. Jackie had hoped that they might somehow forget, but had already guessed that she would not be so lucky. After her father left, Jackie looked for a way to entertain herself. These toys were the same ones that she often found herself with for hours at a time at home. She had decidedly not yet found a way to entertain herself with them, however. The toys were simply not entertaining for someone of her maturity, no matter how much she sought that entertainment. She still made sure to always have a toy in her hands when she was told to play. If she was ever found without one, her mother invariably decided that Jackie must want to do something other than play. At home, this meant that she would either be put in her bouncer, put down in her crib for an extended or extra nap, or forced to play some sort of horribly embarrassing baby game like peek-a-boo or horsey rides with her mother for an extended period of time. Jackie had decided that each of these options was either more boring or more embarrassing than playing with the mind numbing toys in her playpen, so she was always careful to keep up her activity rate. Right now she found herself shaking her rattle a little bit, until she remembered that that would be heard by everyone in the kitchen over the baby monitor and decided that instead she would play with her doll. Her solitary confinement ended before she had completely grown bored of the moment. She was moving the doll across her face when her father came back into the room with a pair of relatives she didn't remember having ever met. Apparently they were his cousin, Cindy, and her husband, Harry. It was unclear if she had met them at the last reunion, because she was introduced to them as if she were a baby that had not even been alive at the time of the last reunion. Like everyone else, Cindy and Harry cooed over Jackie as if she were any other little baby. In fact, Jackie was somewhat curious how not even one family member had seemed surprised to be introduced to a baby who was clearly in her twenties. Everyone seemed to simply take her babyhood in stride and act as if it was totally normal to see babies that were over 5 feet tall and weighed comfortably more than 120 pounds. Soon Cindy and Harry moved on, and Jackie was once again left alone with her toys in the living room. The interruptions began to come much more quickly, though, and Jackie realized that the majority of the relatives that were coming must be starting to arrive. Eventually, her mother came in with a few other women who were at the party. She was carrying a pair of bottles and a bib. “Baby must be hungry! We've come to feed you!” she said. She quickly helped Jackie out of the crib, guided her the one step to the couch, and sat her down across her lap. She was quickly fitted with a bib, and another round of cooing ensued as the bottle of sickly formula was pushed between Jackie's lips. The women eventually started up more normal conversations, and for a moment Jackie faded out of the spotlight as she sucked down her morning snack. However, that peace ended rather quickly when another set of new guests came in to meet the “baby.” Immediately, Jackie could tell this experience would be different. She recognized two of the people who walked into the room. One was her cousin, Melissa, who was Sarah's daughter, and the other was Michael, who had been her fiancee when they'd last seen each other. But Jackie knew that her cousin, who was three years older than her, had since gotten married to Michael, and so they were now husband and wife. What she hadn't realized, however, was that the young couple had had a baby. Even as she was still being fed, Jackie was introduced to baby Kendra. Kendra, it turned out, was 13 months old. She was being carried now, but her mother bragged that she was now quite an accomplished walker. As Jackie gazed at her, she came to an awful realization. She was wearing the same exact outfit as Kendra! It was too much for her, and she began to quietly sob when her aunt Sarah, Kendra's grandmother, started cooing at how adorable it was that the girls were dressed as twins, which Jackie could tell must have been coordinated. In all of the months since she had been forced back into infancy, she had never felt more like a baby than she did at this moment. The comments did not end as quickly as they had earlier, and Jackie was still feeling like her embarrassment was the center of attention when she finished her second bottle. Her mother made a big show of checking her diaper, declaring her wet but not yet in need of a change, and finally moved her back into the playpen. The party was gradually moving away from the kitchen and out towards the living room, so Jackie was not granted her wish to be left alone. After a few minutes sitting in the playpen absentmindedly holding her doll, Jackie's plight was once again called into focus when Melissa said to Jackie's mother “Would you mind if I let Kendra play with Jackie for a little while? She's getting heavy and I keep seeing her looking over Jackie's way.” “Of course not!” her mother said. “I'm sure Jackie would love to play with Kendra.” Kendra was quickly lowered into the playpen next to Jackie, though there wasn't that much room given that the enclosure was normally meant for one actual baby, and it instead now housed a normal baby and an adult-sized one. The two looked at each other, with Kendra seeming to spend extra time trying to determine what to make of the big girl who looked so much like her. “Can you say hi, Kendra?” Melissa asked. Apparently saying hi for Kendra was a simple wave, which elicited a round of awws from the assembled crowd. Jackie's mother then repeated the question, asking “Can you wave hi back, Jackie?” That prompted Jackie to give back a similarly shy wave, which elicited another round of awws and earned her a “Good girl” from her mother. Melissa added several toys to the playpen, a couple of which Kendra quickly moved to grab. Jackie couldn't help but notice that the smaller child's toys were actually much more complex than the ones that she was normally given to play with. The girls didn't really play with each other as much as they played in the same space, or, even more accurately, Kendra played and Jackie sat miserably with a toy in her hand in the same space. Kendra could not talk or really communicate, and Jackie was not really allowed to, and wouldn't have wanted to either. They were in the playpen for well over an hour when the monotony was broken up when Kendra began to cry quite suddenly. Jackie was surprised, as she didn't really know what had happened. Melissa, however, seemed to have a better idea. She quickly came over and immediately checked her daughter's diaper, and determined that her wetness was the reason for the fussing. She pulled Kendra out of the playpen and took her into a bedroom for a change. Jackie wished that all she had to do to get out of a wet diaper was make her mother aware, as her cold, wet loins were starting to get uncomfortable, but she also felt like now was not a time when she needed people thinking about the state of her diapers any more than they might already be. Jackie feared that she was about to be subjected to a diaper check when her mother walked over to the playpen just after Melissa and Kendra had left. However, her mother instead announced “Lunch time for babykins!” She helped Jackie out of the playpen. Now the subject of several gazes in the crowded living room, Jackie dropped to her knees and crawled after her mother into the kitchen. The kitchen still had a sizable crowd, many of whom were munching on tasty looking appetizers. Jackie, however, was led straight to the highchair in the corner of the room, and boosted up into it. Her mother quickly strapped her into the extremely small article of children's furniture and put the tray onto the front. She began heating a few jars of baby food in the microwave. While it was heating, she brought over a bib. This one was yellow, and across the front it read “Mommy's Little Stinker,” which was one of Jackie's least favorite bibs. Soon the food was ready. It came over steaming in a plastic bowl, and as usual, the mush looked and smelled terribly unappetizing. A small crowd formed to watch the feeding. There were many comments about how babyish Jackie looked and how well behaved she was, a few chuckles at the face she made when the disgusting food first hit her tongue. As usual, her face ended up quite messy. Just as she was finishing, Kendra waddled into the room, which her mother following closely behind her and holding her hand. “Uh-oh,” said Jackie's mother. “Looks like somebody needs your seat, Baby Jackie. Let's get you down, we'll give you some milk in the other room.” Her mouth was quickly wiped, but the humiliating and messy bib stayed around her neck. She quickly got down on her knees when the tray was removed, and within seconds she had essentially swapped places with the tot, with the only difference being that she had to crawl where Kendra had walked. She began crawling out to the living room, with her mother following with a pair of bottles in her hands. She was boosted back onto the couch, and endured another round of sickly sweet formula. By the time she finished the second bottle, Kendra was coming back into the room. Jackie noted that her feeding had taken much less time than her own, but realized quickly that she probably ate a lot more than her much smaller counterpart had. “Should we set up both playpens in the other room for naptime?” Melissa asked. “I think that would be great. Is it all ready to be used as a nursery?” Jackie's mother answered. “I think so,” said Melissa. “It's got good shades, and nothing in there but the babies' things. Should be a perfect room for them for tonight too.” Jackie hated being talked about as one of the babies by her cousin. It was impossible to ignore that they were quite close to each other in age, and had socialized as equals the last time that they had seen each other. Having her now treat her as an equal to her baby daughter was really difficult for Jackie. Her mother instructed her to follow Melissa and Kendra into the room while she pushed the playpen that was into the living room into the bedroom behind the rest of the group. Once inside, the toys were taken out of the playpen and placed on the full sized bed that would not be used. While Melissa got Kendra into her own portable playpen, Jackie's mother checked her diaper. She decided that while she was definitely wet, she'd be able to make it through naptime without any leaks. She said to Jackie, “I don't want you to ruin your dress, so I'm going to take it off for naptime, ok baby?” Jackie, of course, didn't have a choice, but sat still as her mother took off her dress and her little shoes. She felt ridiculous in her remaining ensemble of a bonnet, tights, ruffled panties, and ankle socks. She was also very self conscious of her breasts, which were on display in front of her cousin. That fear was barely founded, however, as she was soon being wrapped tightly into her blanket in the playpen, essentially trapping her again but once more providing her with some modesty as well. As the two women worked to put their babies down for their naps, they began to talk about the difficulties of their babies, with Jackie's mother hinting at some of the ways in which Jackie's size made her unique. Eventually she confessed to Melissa, “Actually, I'm quite glad that Jackie is going to be in here with Kendra tonight. She slept in our room last night, and it stopped my husband and I from being able to do anything at all. It's not that we couldn't, I guess, because she is just a baby and she wouldn't understand, but we didn't want to wake her up even though we wanted to have some fun because we might have never been able to get her back to sleep.” “I didn't need to hear that about my aunt and uncle, but I know what you mean,” Melissa responded with a laugh. “Michael and I were so glad when Melissa started to be able to sleep in her own room so that we could get back to having our fun. Every time we had tried before, we had always woken her up and it was a nightmare. Plus it was a total mood killer!” Jackie was mortified. If Melissa hadn't wanted to here about her aunt and uncle's sex life, Jackie was even less interested in hearing about it, given that they were her parents. Beyond that, her mother's words represented yet another new way that she was being called a baby. Her mother had implied that she could be in the room while other people were having sex and she wouldn't even be mature enough to understand the adult action that was going on. One of the things that Jackie missed most about her maturity was the opportunity to have at least a bit of a sex life. When she had been an adult, she hadn't really had a tremendous amount of success with men, but she had recently had her first serious boyfriend. She hadn't “gone all the way,” but she had had her first sexual experiences with a man, and had hoped that she would soon be taking the final step when he had decided that they should break off their relationship. Rather than leave her with a sour taste, the relationship had served to awaken Jackie to her sexuality. She had become increasingly interested in finding another man, and in the meantime had even ventured online to find herself a few toys to explore herself with on her own. That awakening had abruptly ended when her parents had changed her into a baby. While her desires hadn't entirely subsided, her ability had. Jackie was never alone in a position to pleasure herself, as the only times that she was out of sight and behind a closed door were when she was tightly wrapped up in her crib for a nap or for the night. Even if she had been sure that she could get enough flexibility, she was stopped by the fact that she was constantly on the baby monitor. While she could perhaps stay somewhat quiet, she doubted that a careful listener wouldn't know what was happening. Furthermore, even without those obstacles, Jackie had another issue to contend with. She simply had no desire to put her hands into her diapers. They were almost always wet, and there was really little that made her feel less sexy than the moments when she realized that her sex was encased with a used diaper. All of her sexual frustration had meant that she had now gone months without achieving anything close to an orgasm, a fact which often had her somewhat depressed when she thought about it. Now, the dismissal of her as someone capable of any sort of sexuality seemed to hit her especially hard, in part because she knew that it was functionally closer to true than she wished to admit. It was just a moment more before Jackie was kissed on the head by her mother. “Sleep well, baby girl,” she said. “I'll come get you when it is time to get up from your nap.” Jackie was then surprised when Melissa bent down and gave her a kiss as well. She made sure to flick on the nightlight on her way out, and shut the door, leaving Jackie to slowly drift off to her nap. She was awoken by the sound of Melissa's voice, who was softly saying to her mother “Wow, Kendra is still asleep. She must have been worn out by the excitement. Normally she only naps for an hour or so. I guess I should get her up so that we don't ruin her night's sleep.” “Looks like my sleepyhead is already waking up.” her mother replied. “Are you ready to go back to the party?” she asked, turning her attention to her daughter. “I think you probably need a diaper change before we do that though.” Jackie might have argued that she could have used a change hours ago, but at the same time she was pretty hesitant to be changed in front of her cousin. She wasn't going to have a say in that though. Her mother was already laying out the changing mat on the carpet next to the playpen that Jackie was still crammed into. Kendra had been stirred and Melissa decided that she would need to change her daughter as well, so she began to set up another changing mat next to the one that Jackie's mother had laid down. In the meantime, Jackie had been unwrapped from the tight blankets she had slept in, and her mother got her out of the playpen. She quickly laid down on her back, on the mat. Her mother took down her frilly panties and then worked her tights down off of her legs. Jackie was once again conscious of the fact that she now was on the floor in nothing but a diaper, an embarrassing fact that was compounded when Melissa approached and put her baby down next to Jackie. Just then, her mother opened up Jackie's diaper, leaving her hairless privates and the soaked, yellow inside of her infantile underwear on full display. Her mother was significantly less worried about her nakedness than she was, and, in fact, Melissa seemed to take it in stride as well, simply attending to Kendra's diaper. Jackie was glad of that, but once again embarrassed that she was being treated as if her babyhood was no different than Kendra's was. She laid with her legs up in the air as her mother carefully wiped the urine off of her privates and bottom, and while her legs were up over her mother's head while Kendra's were only at chest height, there was otherwise no difference in their positions and what was happening to them. Eventually the wiping was finished and a new diaper was taped on to replace the old one, which was good because before her tights had even been pulled all the way up her legs she felt a small, warm spurt dribble into the thirsty padding between her legs, reminding Jackie of just how necessary diapers had become for her. Within a few moments Jackie was back to wearing the ridiculously babyish outfit that she had been wearing all day and was sitting between her mother's legs, preparing to be fed the bottle of formula that she had brought into the room with her when she came to wake her up the girls. Melissa began to move one of the playpens into the living room while carrying Kendra out, leaving the room with just Jackie and her mother. In this position, Jackie was just a little shorter than her mother, who pushed the bottle into her mouth and tilted her head back. The position was strange for Jackie, as her head was essentially cradled between her mother's breasts, and she was forced to look up at her mother, who was looking back down at her. Her mother began to coo, saying virtually nothing meaningful, but all the while making Jackie feel as babyish as possible. Finally, the bottle was done and she was released from the strange hold that her mother had kept her pinned in. Without needing to say a word, her mother got up and began to walk out of the room, knowing that Jackie would follow her on her hands and knees. Jackie was surprised to find the living room deserted when they got there, but her mother didn't miss a beat, leading her straight outside and onto the sizable back porch. There was a game of wiffleball in progress and many other family members were chatting over drinks or sitting on some of the several pieces of furniture that were around the lawn and on the porch. On the corner of the deck, positioned in the shadows cast by the house, was the playpen that Melissa had removed from the makeshift nursery, and Jackie saw that Kendra was in there, engrossed in her toys once again. She was led in that direction herself, and within a few seconds had been helped over the railing and was sitting on her diapered behind in the playpen next to what she was pretty sure was her cousin once removed. The boredom resumed almost immediately. She picked up a stray block that was next to her and simply held it, not really bothering to pretend to be amused. There were a few adults seated a few feet away, including her mother and Melissa, but their conversation was far from noteworthy. Jackie watched Kendra, who was intently playing with two dolls. Given that Kendra couldn't talk, it was hard to guess what they were supposed to be doing, even though she was babbling along in gibberish the whole while. A few times she got bored of the dolls, one time hitting Jackie as she threw one away, but otherwise she didn't interact with Jackie at all. Jackie's boredom was complete, and perhaps was made even worse by the presence of others in the area, as she wouldn't allow herself to play with any dolls in front of them, which she sometimes did at home to pass the time, making up stories that were usually about herself breaking out of the terrible rut that she was currently in and returning to a successful adulthood. After what seemed like an eternity but in reality was only about two hours, Jackie's mother got up and said, “I should probably go warm up Jackie's bottles for her afternoon snack. Be right back.” Before she could get more than a step though, Melissa stopped her. “Hang on a second. I'll come with you. I've got to get a bottle for Kendra, and I think I have a proposal that might make both of our lives a little bit easier.” “Sounds good,” her mother replied. “Be a good girl and play nicely with Kendra, Jackie. Mommy will be right back. Remember, listen to anything the grown-ups tell you.” Jackie went back to faking playing for the next several minutes, glad that the monotonous block of playtime would be interrupted with a bottle feeding. While that was sure to be embarrassing, she’d already been publicly fed earlier, and at least this would be something new to do. Plus, it would take up thirty minutes. She figured it was probably around 3:30, so with that half an hour, she was probably only about an hour and a half of playtime from dinner. Normally she would never look forward to that, but today that would mean bath time would be on the horizon before finally, mercifully, bed time would mean that the day was over for her and with it the vast majority of the reunion, provided that everyone left on Sunday morning like they had the last time. Her mother led her niece back out onto the porch. Curiously, Jackie noted, her mother only had one bottle in her hand, but she was sure it was just that Melissa had grabbed two on the way out the door. Her mother walked over to the playpen and bent down, putting her face right into Jackie's. “I am going to feed little Kendra while Auntie Melissa feeds you, ok little one?” she cooed. More quietly, she continued, “If you so much as fuss one bit for Auntie you are going to spend all day in timeout in the bouncer on Monday, understood?” Jackie couldn't imagine what that was all about, but she nodded anyways, making sure that her earnestness showed in her eyes, lest her mother think that she hadn't come up with a threat that got Jackie's undivided attention. She gently picked up Kendra and carried her over to the seat she had been sitting at before she got up. As Jackie watched, she felt Melissa's hands behind her shoulder blades, helping to boost her up and guiding her over the railing onto the porch. Melissa grabbed her hand, a signal to stay standing, and pulled her the few steps over to a large, padded rocking chair for two that hung down off a metal frame. Jackie wasn't looking forward to being fed by her cousin, but would have complied even without her mother's bizarre threat of relatively harsh punishment. Melissa sat down and scooted over to one side of the chair, still holding Jackie's hand as she made herself comfortable. She then patted right next to her legs, and pulled Jackie so that her diaper was positioned just next to her legs. Knowing the drill, Jackie brought her legs up onto the vacant side of the chair, curling them up so that they fit, and placed her torso on Melissa's body. Melissa fastened a bib around Jackie's neck, which was unusual for a bottle feeding, but explained, “We don't want any dribbles on your gorgeous new dress.” Melissa pulled her head closer to Jackie's, but started talking more loudly. “This used to be Kendra's favorite, but now she only seems to like it at night. My body is still really used to it though, and this will be better for you and easier for me than having to pump it out and store it.” Jackie was now starting to get alarmed. Was Melissa talking about what she seemed to be? Panicking, she began to desperately look around for the bottles she surely would be fed. She couldn't find any. She gasped as she saw that Melissa was undoing the buttons on her shirt, confirming that Jackie would not be getting the mundane bottle feeding she had been looking forward to. Her pacifier dropped from her gaping mouth, and she involuntarily let out a small “no, please,” which she didn't even lisp, a mistake she hadn't made since the first week of her second childhood. Immediately, her mother snapped “Jackie Marie! You just earned yourself a day of punishment on Monday and a timeout when you are done being fed! If I hear one more word out of you, it will be a week of punishment, and that will only be the beginning! Say you're sorry to Auntie Melissa and drink up like a good little girl this instant!” Jackie was already sobbing a little, and the snaps had brought some attention beyond the small circle of onlookers in that corner of the deck. Suddenly a large portion of the party seemed aware that the giant baby was in trouble and about to be breastfed. Jackie wanted to run away, but the thought of a week in the bouncer was unbearably awful, and so, crying harder all the while, she meekly lisped “Me sowwy Auntie Mewissa, me was bad gurl.” Melissa gave her a kiss on the top of the head, and then placed one hand behind Jackie's head, with the other on her breast. Jackie wanted nothing in the world less than to drink milk from her cousin's teat, but wasn't foolish enough to think there was any avoiding it anymore. She opened her mouth and, crying even harder now, put her lips around the nipple. “Shh shh shh, that's a good baby. Have some nice milkies and you'll feel all better,” Melissa whispered. Jackie sucked, but could immediately tell that this would be more difficult than a bottle. The nipple was slightly smaller, meaning she needed to use her tongue to help her to latch on properly. Finally, the first wave of milk came, which was perhaps the worst part of the whole experience for Jackie. Mentally, there was no suggesting that she was pretending anymore. Milk was flowing directly from her only slightly older cousin's breast into her mouth, and Jackie was dutifully swallowing it while laying across her lap in what by now was a quite sodden diaper. Even in Jackie's mind, there was no way around the idea that she was now nothing more than an oversized infant who had no other role in the world than to be taken care of. Thinking about it made her cry even more. Slowly, Jackie suckled her way through her humiliating breastfeeding. The milk came out much slower than it came out of bottles, and the result was that just the first breast took Jackie nearly 20 minutes to drain. The milk was far more watery than the sickly formula that she normally drank, and some of it did indeed drip down onto the bib she was wearing. When she finished, Melissa moved quickly to make the other breast available, and Jackie once again had to endure the humiliating process of suckling her cousin's nipple until it ran dry. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she finished. Seemingly just to add another level of humiliation, Melissa pulled Jackie up so that her head rested on her shoulder and patted her back until Jackie let out a loud burp, which she had to admit did make her stomach feel better, even though she hadn't felt particularly poorly at the start. After she burped, her mother came over and addressed her. “See. That wasn't so bad, was it? You could have made it a lot easier for yourself by just being a good girl.” Jackie thought that her mother's comments made it pretty obvious that she had never been breastfed after earning a bachelor's degree, but left that thought safely within the confines of her own head. Instead, she simply opened her mouth as her mother reinserted her pacifier. “Come inside with me, baby. It is timeout time for you.” Jackie got off of the seat and crawled behind her mother into the house. In the living room, Jackie's mother strode over the corner. Jackie followed her until eventually, her mother crouched down beside her. “Since we don't have your timeout stool or your bouncer, timeout rules are going to be a little different for you today, baby. Kneel right here in the corner.” Jackie moved to do as she was told. Ultimately, her mother positioned her so that she wasn't facing the corner itself, but had her shoulder firmly in the corner and faced the blank wall in front of her. When she was satisfied, her mother continued. “Now, look over there. As you can see, we will be able to see you from the porch. But, just to make sure that you don't act up, you need to hold this penny up to the wall with your nose.” She showed Jackie a penny that was in her hand, then positioned it in front of her nose and pushed Jackie's head gently against the wall. She briefly left the room, then re-entered. Jackie dared not look, but her mother told her that she had brought out the baby monitor. “Every time I hear the penny drop, I will come back in and reset it. Every time that that happens also means another day of timeout in the jumper next week. If you are a good girl, I will come and get you when it is time for dinner. Then it is going to be straight to bed for you. You've been a very naughty baby. Now be good during your timeout.” Jackie tried to settle into her position, but realized immediately that this was going to be a difficult punishment, especially given how weak her legs were. Within just a few minutes, she was feeling a little stiff. Slowly, she shifted herself down from the upright kneeling position that she was in to a slightly lower position, all the while keeping her nose firmly pressed against the wall. For a moment this was more comfortable, but she soon realized that that position actually left her bearing even more weight, and tried to shift herself back up to the higher position. However, the penny seemed to catch on the wall, and her nose continued up while the penny dropped to the floor, loudly bouncing on the hardwood between her legs. Within a few seconds, Jackie heard the door slide open. Her mother returned to her side. As she replaced the penny, she said “Well, you made it 6 minutes. You were already going to spend to Monday thinking about how naughty you were this weekend. I guess you wanted to spend Tuesday the same way. At this rate, you might get to spend two weeks thinking about how much of a bad baby you've been. It's your choice.” Jackie resolved to avoid spending the next two weeks in the torture sling. This time, she held firm in her position, even as her legs experienced increasing discomfort. Eventually she had pushed past the pain and reached a point where she was just waiting out the time. Suddenly, however, the penny fell. She couldn't believe it. She was no longer bothered so much by the position. Instead, she had simply lost focus. Her mother returned, and, as she replaced the penny, she commented, “Well, you are more than halfway through your timeout, but you're also in timeout for more than half of next week. Mommy doesn't mind though. All I have to do when you are in timeout is feed you in the bouncer. I don't even have to change you until bedtime.” After she left, Jackie made sure to keep her focus 100% on the penny. It made the time pass incredibly slowly, but she was determined to keep her boredom the next week to a minimum. When the time was finally up, she had been so focused that she was startled by her mother announcing that it was time for her dinner. Gratefully, Jackie pulled her nose back from the wall and somewhat flopped onto her diapered bottom, which reminded her of just how wet she was. Jackie didn't really care, however, as she stretched out her legs for as long as she could before her mother beckoned her to follow her into the kitchen. Most of the party was still out on the deck preparing for a barbeque dinner, so the kitchen was basically deserted. Jackie was quickly boosted into the highchair and fastened in. In the mostly empty room, dinner proceeded fairly quickly, with the only people who were in there focused on preparing food to be cooked out on the grills and not bothering to make any comments on Jackie's feeding. The clock read just after six when her mother started feeding Jackie her after dinner bottles. As Jackie was slurping down the second one, Melissa carried Kendra into the kitchen and announced that she would be reserving the highchair next, as if there was really much of a line. At that point, Jackie's mother told her, “When you are done with your dinner you owe Auntie Melissa a big thank you. She brought along some of the milkies that she pumped out since Kendra stopped drinking up during the day a couple of weeks ago in bottles. She is going to give it to us so that you can drink it even after we go home! Isn't that exciting?” Jackie wasn't impressed, but when the empty bottle was removed from her mouth, she dutifully said thank you and, at her mother's prompting, she even gave her cousin a peck on the cheek. “Let's get you a bath and then get you off to bed, my naughty little baby,” her mother said. Soon she was in the bathtub in the bathroom, her soaked diaper finally off. After a very quick but thorough scrubbing, Jackie was dried off. On the floor of the bathroom she was taped into one of her extra thick overnight diapers and then dressed in an ultra-short, pink nighty that left her diaper entirely exposed. She was led back through the living room and into the bedroom that was to serve as a nursery for her and Kendra. In practically no time, she was tightly wrapped in blankets and stuffed into her tiny playpen. Laying on her back, she was fed her standard nighttime bottles. Just as she was finishing up, Kendra was brought in, having obviously just had a bath herself. Jackie came to the realization that she was already tucked in for the night before even her 1 year old cousin was. While she knew she was being put to bed about an hour early because of her earlier misbehavior, she was still dismayed. Her mother soon made it worse when she asked Melissa “Is this when Kendra normally goes to bed?” “Yup,” Melissa replied. “7 o'clock is a perfect time for this little tyke.” “Hmm. We had been putting Jackie down at 8. Maybe 7 would be more appropriate. You can consider that your new bedtime, baby girl.” Melissa continued. “I'm just going to read Kendra a story. I'd be happy to give Jackie a good night kiss and get the lights on my way out if you'd like to head out and get some dinner.” “Sounds great. Well, goodnight little girl. Be a perfect little angel. I don't want to hear a single peep out of you tonight. We have a long trip tomorrow, so sleep well.” Her mother gave her a kiss on the head and left her as Melissa began to read Goodnight Moon to both Kendra and Jackie. When she was finished, she helped to ease Kendra off to sleep, gave Jackie the kiss she had promised her mother, shut off the light, and closed the door behind her, sealing Jackie in for a particularly long night in a particularly small bed. Given that it was still before her bedtime, Jackie was still lying awake twenty minutes when a stomach rumble forced her into a horrifying realization. She had not messed herself all day. This was extremely rare for her, especially since she had begun her current diet, and she assumed that it must have been a result of all the nervous energy that had been coursing through her body all day. Why she hadn't yet pooped wasn't really her concern though, as much as what was going to happen now. She knew that she would almost certainly be pooping within the next few minutes, especially since she couldn't even shift positions to try to help with the cramps. Still, Jackie decided that she would try to fight the urge. If she could just fall asleep, maybe her body would be able to hold out until morning. And so, with a desperate urgency, Jackie tried to drift off. Her efforts only seemed to make her more awake. Within a few minutes, she knew, as she had the day before in her car seat, that she would not be winning her fight. She didn't really give up, because she had a sense that a mess she made now would stay in her diaper until morning, but within just fifteen minutes of the first warning sign Jackie lost the battle, and a cramp led to a surge of soft, warm poop sliding into the seat of her diaper. There was more coming, and within a few minutes Jackie was lying in a particularly full messy diaper that smelled perhaps a little worse than normal, though that might have been simply mental because Jackie would be smelling it for so long. Her discomfort was immediate. Her only hope was that Kendra would wake up and be put off by the smell enough that she cried and somehow led to Jackie getting changed, but given that she had just fallen asleep and was showing no signs of stirring in the crib next to Jackie, that possibility seemed remote. She knew that she was never allowed to mention the state of her diaper, and she knew that making some sort of call over the baby monitor would probably only anger her mother. Instead, she guessed that she would have to try to somehow fall asleep. She knew that that would be tough. She remembered when she had been forced to sleep next to her playmate, Stephanie, when Stephanie had messed herself during a nap time. Stephanie had been extremely red-faced when it had happened, but had quickly drifted off to sleep. Jackie, however, had found the smell almost too much to handle. She had taken much longer than normal to fall asleep and had only done so because she was genuinely tired because she was normally asleep at that time. Tonight, the smell and the discomfort of her own poop had Jackie unable to escape the senses associated with her plight. As it had been when she was cooped up next to the exorbitantly smelly Stephanie, genuine drowsiness was what finally got Jackie to sleep. Even her filthy, stinky bum couldn't stop her from falling victim to the combination of a stressful day, a physically demanding timeout, and the (for her) late hour of 8:15. It was some hours later when Jackie was jolted awake by an unfamiliar sound. She could place that she was hearing screaming, but she could not figure out why. Eventually, she slowly remembered where she was, and realized that the screaming she could hear was her young roommate crying. Jackie desperately just wanted to get back to sleep, but that was not going to happen anytime soon with the noise coming from the makeshift crib just a few feet from her own. In just a few moments, Melissa entered the room, immediately whispering “Shh, shh, Mommy is here baby.” As she crossed over to Kendra's playpen, she took a sniff and whispered, “Ooh, I think I can smell what you want, baby.” Even with how tired she was, Jackie was clear-headed enough to think “No, that smell is me.” Instantly, she was filled with dread. Surely now her cousin would discover the mess in her diaper, and then who knew what would happen. Would she be subjected to the most humiliating of changes? Would she die of shame? Melissa's bent over and picked up her daughter, holding her tight while setting up a changing mat. Jackie heard the tapes being opened up, and then Melissa said “Ooh, stinky girl. Let's get you all cleaned up.” “What?” Jackie thought. Wasn't she the source of the acrid air in the room? Her diaper was certainly full of poop. She knew that from the way that it clung to her backside every time she wriggled in her tightly wrapped blankets. But her cousin was certainly proceeding as if Kendra was in a messy diaper herself, and surely she must be right, given that she now had the diaper open. Jackie didn't know if this would perhaps mean a reprieve for her. Kendra had soon been changed into a new diaper, and had stopped her fussing but for a few stray whimpers. “Let mummy feed you now honey,” Melissa said, and though Jackie couldn't see it from her position, she could hear that Melissa had begun to feed her daughter the same way that she had fed Jackie earlier in the afternoon. Eventually the feeding had ended, and as Jackie could hear Melissa get to her feet, she heard her say “Oof, baby, that might have been the smelliest diaper you have ever had. I'm going to have to take that straight out to the trash or else the room will smell all night.” Jackie started to breathe easier. Obviously, Mellisa did not suspect her of being the cause of the majority of the stench in the room. Her fear that she would be changed by her cousin seemed to be misplaced. Sure enough, after a few minutes of cooing Kendra to sleep, Melissa departed the room, never having even come over to the playpen where Jackie had been cooped up the entire time. Finally, Jackie's heartbeat finally began to slow down. She had been on edge for the entire time that Melissa had been in the room, which she guessed must have been close to a half an hour. As she settled down though, she realized for the first time that her mess was even more uncomfortable than it had been when she had fallen asleep for what she had assumed would have been the night. Then she had been trapped in a warm, gooey sludge that had seemed almost invasive in the way that it was slowly seeping up into her crotch and the wider regions of her thick nighttime diaper. Now, the mess felt quite different. It was thoroughly cold, which seemed to make it even more uncomfortable against her skin. It also had spread throughout her diaper. She could feel it caked onto the small of her back, almost all the way to the top of her diaper. She could tell that it was very much stuck to her skin now, and she felt reasonably sure it was the most unpleasant diaper she had ever been in. In a way, she began to wonder if she had been as lucky as she thought she had been. She was still glad that Melissa hadn't changed her, but had her mother come in when Kendra had broken out in crying and changed her while Melissa had attended to Kendra, surely she would be much more comfortable and already asleep, rather than helplessly trying to ignore the itchy, smelly mess that she was laying in. After what she could have sworn was hours of uncomfortably trying to fall asleep, morning seemed to come amazingly fast for Jackie. She woke up disoriented, which was helped by the fact that she was not woken up in her normal way. Instead of her mother gently rousing her, the first thing she heard was “Woo, Melissa, is that Kendra? Man, is it smelly in here.” “I guess it could be,” Melissa answered, “but she was stinky in the middle of the night, so I'd be surprised. I think you're the one who got this present.” “Uh-oh, are you the little stinker?” Jackie's mother asked, with her face just inches from her daughter's. As she unwrapped the tight blankets that had held Jackie immobilized over the course of her miserable night, they were both struck by a fresh blast of the horrible, acrid stench coming from around Jackie's waist. “Oh, yup, it's mine alright!” her mother called. “Whew, ok, well, I guess we won't be going first for breakfast after all. She's going to need a change right away or else everyone out in the kitchen will gag on their food!” As Jackie was helped out of the playpen by her mother, Melissa said “OK, I'll give Kendra a quick change and then take her out to the highchair.” Jackie was sat on a changing pad in the center of a room, where her mother took off her nighty, leaving her naked but for her diaper. As her mother laid her back down, Kendra was brought over and laid down next to her, which made Jackie feel distinctly exposed with her cousin looking down on her mostly naked body. The day before, Jackie would have been filled with an unbelievable discomfort at the realization that Melissa was about to see her being changed out of a messy diaper. This morning though, having been stuck in the filthy undergarment for so long, she was significantly less vain. Sure, she was still not looking forward to having her smelly crotch on display, but more than anything she just wanted to be clean again, especially since her cousin already had a pretty good idea about her diaper's content. Her mother opened up the diaper and both she and Melissa briefly turned away. “Man,” Melissa finally said, “that might be the grossest diaper I've ever seen. Hopefully Kendra only has to grow up once so I never have to deal with something like that!” “Yeah,” her mother responded, “this is as bad as I've ever seen, but she was a little easier to clean up the first time around. But oh well, babies can't help themselves, no matter how big they are. Isn't that right, princess?” Jackie was glad that she wasn't required to lisp out a response as her mother took the first wipe and began to carefully clean the caked-on waste off of her bald crotch. Kendra had been completely changed, dressed and gone to breakfast for nearly five minutes before her mother had finally gotten all of the poop off of her bottom. “You have a little bit of a rash, baby,” her mother announced. “Let's put a little cream on there for you.” After lotion was rubbed into her tush for another minute, which did make her bottom feel a little less itchy than it had, she was powdered and taped into a fresh diaper. Even as she was wondering why she was being taped into another overnight diaper, her mother said “We're going to leave pretty much right after we get you fed, so we might as well get you ready for our trip now.” Next Jackie found herself being dressed in another pair of white tights. Over her head came a seafoam green dress that was, as usual, far too short to do much to obscure the bulge underneath it, though Jackie was glad that it was at least more subtle than yesterday's, if no less babyish. A matching headband with a small green bow was placed in her hair, and finally her mary-janes completed the ensemble. Without needing to be told, Jackie crawled behind her mother and out towards the kitchen. She found herself amongst about a dozen pairs of legs, which she successfully navigated as she crawled over to the tiny highchair that sat in the corner of the room. She was helped into the baby furniture one final time, squeezing in tight as the tray was closed around her midsection. As her mother tied a bib around her neck, her father came over and took out her pacifier to give her a kiss. “Good morning, princess,” he said. “Goo moawaning, daddy,” she lisped. “I heard you were a very smelly girl this morning,” he said, loud enough for anyone in the kitchen who didn't already know to become aware that she had thoroughly used her diaper overnight. Jackie didn't know whether she needed to respond, but was given a reprieve when her mother approached and immediately began spooning oatmeal into her mouth. Although the feeding left Jackie's face as messy as usual, it was clearly somewhat rushed and industrial. She was quickly fed her bottles and then had her face cleaned. Apparently her parents had already packed, because she was told it was time to head out to the car as soon as she was done. Before she could get down though, several family members came over to bid her goodbye, all of them making sure to address her infantile status and to give her condescending kisses on the forehead. The last to come over was Melissa, who was holding Kendra in her arms. Melissa gave her a quick peck like all the others, then addressed both girls, saying mostly to Jackie, “Give your new friend a kiss goodbye! Next time you see her she will be much bigger, but who knows if you will have grown up at all.” Miserably, Jackie gave Kendra the babyish smooch that she had been trained to give when she was told to give a kiss, which Kendra sort of returned, sparking a wave of “awws” from the onlooking crowd. Finally, the tray pinning her into the tiny seat was removed and she was helped back onto the floor. Her parents finished their final goodbyes and Jackie was led to the door, which was opened to reveal her stroller just on the other side of the threshold. She got up and into it. With the family left in the house, she and her parents made their way down the long driveway and to the car. Once they reached the car, she was taken out of the stroller and her mother helped her up into the car while her father folded the stroller and put it in the trunk. Jackie settled into the carseat and her mother began to tighten the restraints, once again leaving her immobilized. “I hope you had fun this weekend, baby, because you are going to have a long time this week to think about what a naughty girl you were yesterday afternoon,” her mother said as before she closed the door. Momentarily alone, Jackie sighed. She certainly had not had fun at the family reunion. It had been terrifically embarrassing, and it had led her to get into more trouble than she had since her first few rebellious days of her reduced status. She wished that they had never come. And now she had a day in the car where she would have nothing to do but think about her embarrassing life and the numbingly boring days of punishment she had ahead of her. As they got on the road, Jackie's thoughts drifted back to the last thing that Melissa had said to her at the reunion about the next time she would see Kendra. She had little doubt that Kendra would be grown, as she had only seen Melissa twice now in the last five years and it seemed unlikely that that pattern would change so dramatically that Kendra would still be a tot the next time the family got together. Jackie sincerely hoped that when they met again though, she would have been allowed to mature too. It was pretty clear that her parents intended to keep her as a baby for some significant period of time, but she kept hope that it would end at least within the span of a normal babyhood, even if she did know enough from her developmental psychology class to know that her parents' rules for her behavior didn't really correspond with any actual age. If Jackie met a six year old Kendra still stuck living the way she was now, she thought she might just go insane. She resolved to find a way to ask Stephanie on their next play date how she had managed to keep her mind from going to mush over the four years she had been stuck as an infant. As disturbing as Jackie's contemplations were, they did do a nice job of passing the time. The next thing she knew, her mother passed back her morning snack of a bottle. Jackie brought it to her mouth and began to drink, almost choking as she realized that it was breast milk that filled the bottle. Her mother chuckled as she watched in the rear view mirror. “That is one of the bottles that Melissa was nice enough to save for you. We have enough for you to have one a day for a week. Aren't you lucky?” Jackie didn't feel lucky at all. For one, the milk was cold, no doubt because that was the only way to keep it from spoiling, but that seemed out of place since she normally drank warm formula. In addition, while she wouldn't actually say that the taste was any worse than the sickly sweet formula she was used to, the difference was enough that she couldn't help but notice it. That difference only served to remind her of the miserable experience of being breastfed the day before. If the embarrassment didn't still sting so much, she wouldn't be able to believe it had really happened. Suckling on her cousin's nipple had been more difficult than latching onto the nipple of a bottle, and the milk had come out in strong squirts rather than the steady flow that she was accustomed to. All of that forced Jackie to focus intently on the breasts she had been draining, which made her even more aware of the embarrassing task she was feeding, and she had felt like her cheeks had been on fire as she heard the embarrassing comments that her relatives were making at her expense. Mercifully, Jackie soon drained the bottle of the embarrassing milk and was able to move on in her thoughts. She found herself extremely tired after her poor night's sleep. Even though she had had her bedtime moved up an hour to 7 o'clock, which meant that she would now be spending less time out of her crib than in it when naps were included, she had probably gotten less sleep last night than she had in months. Her body still looked the same as it had when she was still treated like an adult, but more and more she was physically turning into a small child. Not only was she increasingly incontinent, but her body now needed an infantile amount of sleep as well. Having not had it overnight, her body seemed intent on catching up now, and before long she fell asleep. She didn't wake up until her mother jostled her awake by checking her diaper. “Just a little wet,” she said, beginning to unbuckle Jackie from the seat. It took a moment, but Jackie realized that they had stopped at another roadside picnic area. She was helped down into the stroller, which confirmed that she wouldn't be changed. Just as she figured out that it must be lunchtime, she was wheeled over to a nearby table, and had a bib tied around her neck. The lot was deserted, so the feeding passed by without any incident, and Jackie was soon being refastened into her carseat for more of the ride. She was handed another bottle to drink as the car got going again. This one was just standard formula, and went down without much thought. Just as she was finishing, however, an almost seismic rumble occurred in her stomach. She handed the finished bottle to her mother and settled in for what she knew was a mess that was coming on fast. Although it had been relatively shortly ago that she had had the massive bowel movement in her makeshift crib, she wasn't really surprised. She had gone more than 24 hours from when she had messed in this very seat on Friday and when she had messed on Saturday evening. She was basically due for a day when she messed herself twice, as she hadn't since Wednesday and it usually happened every other day or so. Perhaps it wouldn't be today because she had gone so late last night, but she wasn't surprised that poop was on the way. As she had expected, it came quickly, and when it did it was nice enough to announce its presence. As she scrunched up her face and pushed hard to get the poop out into the diaper that was pressed so tightly against her by the seat, a series of long, noisy farts made sure that her parents knew exactly what was going on. In a few more minutes, she was finally able to relax, settling into what was now a warm and smelly load that was spreading around her backside. “Man,” her father said, “just after we could have changed her at lunch. Oh well, let's push on if its ok with you, we're making good time.” “I was thinking the same thing,” her mother replied. “She was really only a little wet. In her overnight diaper she could make it all the way home without her leaking, as long as the smell doesn't get to us.” “Great,” Jackie thought to herself. “Another long set of hours in a stinky diaper.” Still though, she knew that if they decided to drive the rest of the way without changing her she would be assured that there wouldn't be a repeat of the encounter they had had during her messy change on Friday, so perhaps the news wasn't all bad. After the effort required to mess herself in such tight quarters briefly left her body coursing with energy, but since she was so unused to having to exert herself in any way, she found herself feeling a tad tired. Although she had just woken up about an hour ago, it was her normal nap-time and she was still making up for lost rest. She soon drifted off once more. Jackie woke up a little more than an hour later, immediately noticing that her diaper had become colder and was somewhat itchy, though at least it didn't smell nearly as bad as last night's mess had. Her mother noticed her fidgeting and produced another bottle for her to drink. She finished it without too much haste. By then she was more awake and took stock of her surroundings. It was a few minutes after 3 in the afternoon, so if the trip was going as smoothly as it had, they would be well more than half-way home. Still, Jackie knew she had at minimum two more hours stuck in the carseat, and most likely the stinky pants as well. Her thoughts turned to the trip she was coming home from once more. She was glad she hadn't known it was coming. As bad as it was, she knew that anticipating it for more than just the car ride on Friday would have been just as agonizing. Still, she knew the trip would do her some real damage. No matter if she was ever allowed to re-enter the adult world, she would surely always be known by her extended family as the big baby who had demonstrated just how desperately she needed her diapers all weekend long. If she did get to go back to her real life, she decided, she probably never would go back to one of those reunions. The trip also made her look forward to being home. Her daily routine was boring, and mind-numbing, and a little embarrassing, but it was nothing like spending a whole weekend in the company of new people. She was glad to get back to anonymity again, even if she was still going to be forced to be a baby. Even though in many ways she did consider her life to be “that bad,” in a way she thought the trip had helped her to realize that it could be even worse. At long last, they pulled into the driveway. Jackie was glad to be home, ready to get a clean diaper, perhaps with a bath beforehand. She knew tonight she wouldn't put up a fight when she was fed the gross mush that made up so much of her diet. She would even be glad to sleep in her own crib again, where even though she would be wrapped so tightly by her mother that she would be sure to wake up sweaty, at least she would be able to extend her legs before the swaddling began. With a grateful sigh, she realized that her unexpected trip was over.

Hi all, This is a sequel to a previously written story, but reading that isn't essential. This new story stands on its own The previous completed part is contained here: If you want the vibe, I suggest reading the interludes “The Great Shittening” and "Ditzies does it Again" https://www.dailydiapers.com/board/index.php?/topic/77379-weaponised-incontinence-in-a-world-of-late-bloomers-completed/&do=findComment&comment=1888109 Below is a summary on all of the important story beats: Prequel Summary Three generations after the fallout of an endemic, people have been left with long toilet-training times, up to 17 years in most. Nick is a very average teenager, if not below-average, who rode the wave of popularity when he toilet trained himself at fourteen, amongst the youngest in his class. He joined the popular group, made friends exclusively with those who were toilet trained, and lived confidently atop his precarious pedestal. He is however shadowed by his step-sister Laura, the class valedictorian, who is an incredible high achiever and beacon of knowledge. Her only flaw? At eighteen, she is still in nappies, with no sign of a successful training anywhere in the near future. Just how she wants to keep it. Laura is an incredible annoyance to Nick, always acting innocent to play jokes on him and scratch at his ego. Her tricks pique Nick’s intrigue one day when she soils herself in front of his friends to prank them. Nick suspects that she must have control over her movements, but just chooses to lie about it. Through a series of escapades, Nick goes on a number of dates with Laura’s secret nemesis, and the most popular girl in school, Cassie. It turns out that she was using Nick to get back at Laura who knows her secret - that she still pees herself sometimes. The story concludes with Nick finding out Laura’s secret, and her admitting to him that she likes using her nappies, and likes the way that he changes her. Unfortunately, things get strange between them as they open up to each other, and Nick moves across the city when their school year ends, to go to university over there. Laura, of course, will attend the best uni in the city. Chapter 1: Houseparty Blues Nick stood out on the grass under the cool and dark night, the house’s lights flooding the backyard and shining into his eyes and face. His hand formed a visor to cut through the beams, but even still his friends were just silhouettes in the brilliance. A muffled doof-doof crawled from the cracks in the shed door to his right, buzzing across the mud and grass and into Nick’s shoes. God a dance would be good right now. He was at a party, after all. He took a sip of his beer, trying to listen to what his mate was saying, but getting distracted by a bassline that he thought he knew. These really were the best nights, those in late March when summer’s last tendrils fought the Autumn chill. This time of year brought with it a still and frosty cold, one that reminded you how late the night was, and let you snuggle into blankets to fight it, but that dissipated with the still-hot sun. Perfect weather, Nick thought. One hand on his beer, the other around his girlfriend’s waist, perfectly chill night - this was meant to be the life. So why was he on edge? “Yeah, well Nick’s having trouble with that, aren’t you, babe?” Sarah said, and Nick was pulled back from his strange anxiety into the moment. What was the question? “Trouble with what?” “With motivation at uni. You know, there’s that accounting subject you hate,” Sarah said, and Nick nodded absently, hand squeezing her waist. He found that even without thought, his fingers played with the exposed edge of her nappy’s waistband. “Oh, yeah, don’t get me started. I’d rather shit myself than listen to the lecturer.” “Big words from you!” Luke, who stood as a black figure against the light, whistled. “You’ve got a perfect streak - not a nappy since you were 14.” “Yeah, well, I’m not gonna shit myself, am I?” Nick huffed. “So I guess I’m going to keep listening to old-mate explain balancing a book.” Shitting pants, if that wasn’t Nick’s life now. He figured that he’d never see another wrecked nappy after moving away from her family and step-sister Laura, who had been using nappies for pleasure and revenge rather than necessity, but then he’d moved into a sharehouse with a girl who was legitimately incontinent... “So how’d you two meet?” Tony, the other friend in the circle asked. “First I’ve heard of this relationship.” “Oh, Nick moved in with me,” Sarah giggled. “Moving quick,” Luke joked. “It’s a sharehouse,” Nick clarified. “They had an extra bed, so I took it. Moved in about three months ago.” “And that’s how the love story starts?” Tony asked. “Yeah, sorta,” Sarah blushed. “I guess it’s a little cliche, but Nick offered to help me clean up one of my nappy blowouts, and we caught feelings from there.” “Textbook movie stuff of the modern era,” Nick joked along, although cringed behind his facade. Somewhere in the past few years Nick’s wires had crossed, and the act of cleaning a nappy and caring for somebody had become sexy, and tied itself to his off-brand masculinity. Coincidentally, Sarah must have had a thing for guys with good hands rearranging her pants, and she’d been clinging to those hands ever since. Now, though? Nick dreaded every off-smell he caught from her direction. It’d only been three months and he’d already uncrossed those misplaced wires well and truly. This girl could blow-out a nappy like a chocolate grenade, and he’d somehow been caught with the medic’s duties. She shifted in his grip, her sides tensing, and Nick’s heart dropped in dread. Not now! he whined. But she relaxed too quickly, nodding to the conversation that carried on, and no smell came. Nick wheezed his relief. “How’s the rest of uni, then?” Luke asked. “And work? I heard from Shano that you’re a bit of a salesman.” Wasn’t this the question. “Well, uni’s otherwise alright, I guess,” Nick said, deflating to think about it. What even got him excited these days? It wasn’t uni, and it really wasn’t Sarah’s dirty nappies. “I just…I dunno. I guess I thought that by nineteen I’d understand myself better, but that birthday is just a few months away and I still don’t know if I like what I’ve gotten into.” “It’s only been a few weeks, though!” Luke said. “Can’t know whetheryou like it this quick.” “Yeah, but we’ll be twenty before we know it, you know,” Nick continued his moping. “And it just seems like I’m not ready for that - to know where I want to be, and what I want to do..” “I hear you,” Luke nodded. “In any case, I can just hope that Greg was right, and that Commerce really is the degree to get. But then what, join the corporate wank-fest?” “Who’s Greg?” Tony asked, and Nick was reminded that he’d only been hanging out with this crowd for a short while. All to get away from Laura and her drama. “My step dad,” Nick answered. “You might the office world once you get there,” Luke said, then pondered. “Although I can’t imagine you just sitting at a desk for hours on end.” “Me neither,” Nick agreed. “My work now is fun, but I can’t work at a Bunnings forever.” “You could.” “Well I wouldn’t want to, either.” Nick noted, realising that he hadn’t left himself with any options. “It would be nice if I could just keep the current status quo forever. Easy work at a hardware store, get the money, pay the rent, drink on fridays, Bob’s your uncle.” “That’s what my cousin does,” Tony spoke up, and Nick almost forgot the boy was there. “He has fun with it.” “Stasis life,” Nick repeated. “It’d be great.” Just then Sarah drifted away from Nick’s grip, spreading her legs as she shifted onto her far foot. Nick’s hand rode her short skirt from her waist down to her bum, where his hand rested, cupping her nappy. () He was startled when he felt the plastic press outwards against him Without even a grunt or a wink from the girl, a load dropped into the seat of her nappy, right against his hand. The plastic ballooned against him, hot and damp, as the mess creamed into the space. He then heard the wet squelch as more poured out, exploding into the seat of her pants. The nappy’s waistband puffed out with the bubbling farts, and he was sure this would be a blowout. He was not going to deal with this right now. “Sorry to bring the mood down,” he apologised, and retracted his hand. “But I’ve got to see a toilet about a piss. I’ll be back.” And he rushed off in a puff of smoke, almost spilling his beer as he jogged across the muddy yard. Really, Nick didn’t have to piss, he just had to get away, and he fumbled hastily through the house to the lone toilet at its far end, upon which he sat and locked the door behind him. Oh well, when in Rome, and he whipped his dick out anyway, just to see if he needed to go. Meanwhile, his other hand lifted his phone, and its fingers absently gravitated their way over to instagram, onto the profile at the top of his search history. Cassie’s profile. His high-school crush, and the girl who get away. Man… Nick bit his lip, looking at her most recent photo. This girl was hot - and she’d been into him for a bit, hooking up, almost fucking. Well...it was for the purposes of social espionage on her part, but that didn’t take away the fact that it had happened. He grumbled, scrolling on, admiring her. Was there a way that, if he could go back in time, he could have kept her interest in him? She was essentially nappy-free, which on its own was a ten-outta-ten feature. Sure, she wet a pull-up or two, lots of people did, but that was relative heaven compared to the scraping up of mudcakes which he did for Sarah. Could he rekindle something here? Was it worth sending a DM? His finger hovered dangerously close to the button. This action would drive a fork in the road - on one prong, a perfect life with a perfectly hot chick and no nappies to be seen, on the other prong, the ruthless humiliation of crawling back to a crush who rejected you. Or a third prong, the one where things go alright, she leads him on, and then breaks things off again, crushing him further. Nick was almost convinced to just smash his finger down on that paper plane icon, but he used his restraint. Having not pissed, he stood and flushed the toilet so that anybody waiting wouldn’t question him as he left, and bustled back through the houseparty to the backyard. There, the glaring spotlight from the house shone harshly upon Sarah’s face,which was sour and desperate. Luke and Tony turned to greet him, their faces structured in harsh shadows. “Babe,” Sarah whined and Nick neared closer. He knew what was coming. “Yes babe,” he said, pretending not to see the distress plastered to her facade. “Babe, I made a boom boom,” she said, and sniffled for effect. “Can you clean me?” Nick sighed. “Yes, come on,” and he gestured her up the hill and towards the house. Having gotten what she wanted, she skipped merrily along and up ahead, beating him to the steps for the back door. With her ahead and in the light, he could see the extent of the job ahead. From under her short skirt the nappy bulged into sight, waistbands stained brown. In the small of her back, just above the waistband - and luckily clear of her cropped shirt - sat a pool of sticky, melted shit. A fucking blow-out, Nick sighed.

this story was commissioned by Brisemenu. Ch1 "Hello and welcome to Sally's Sissiys Daycare!" a woman wearing a bright green apron with a picture of a large smiling Seal on a beach printed on it. "Im Magen, and it's nice to meet you!" Megan was in her early 20s and had a large smile as she greeted the new guests that came into the daycare. "Hi, im Janet and this is my little sissy Max," she gestured to the short preteen-looking child hiding behind her and holding onto a stuffed bear while sucking on a pacifier. Janet was an older woman in her early 40s. She wore a casual dress and looked to be fit for her age. Max was 24 and was born a "Sissy." He was 4'9 with a slim build and wore a bright pink and red dress that just barely covered the diaper she had to wear. ******** In this world, Males were divided into 3 categories. The average was the most common. And like you would suspect, they were average all around. Alpha's were rare and tended to excel in some way. Excelling in strength, stamina, smarts, or more. The drawback of their fantastic gift was that they could not reproduce due to a genetic problem in their DNA. The final was the Sissys. One in every 10 men was born as Sissys. They grew to be smaller and more feminine than average men. Their height typically stunted at around 5 feet, and they mentality matured very slowly. Tipickly capping with the mentality of a teenager by 30. Though most never matured past childhood and were treated more like young girls than boys. Dew to their stunted growth and other factors, they have a few other problems. There is little to no muscle mass, leaky bladders, weakened bowls, etc. Due to this, most sissys are treated like small children who need to be diapered. ****** "Oh, do we have another little one joining us?" another young woman asked as she walked over to join her coworker. "My name is Kelly." Kelly looked slightly older than Megan and had green streaks in her hair. She also had huge breasts with a pin poking out between them. "It's nice to meet you." Janet greets the other attendant while picking up a pen to sign a few papers. "Is there anything I should know or tell you before signing?" "Yes, for starters, how long will you be leaving Max with us?" Magan asked. "Just a few hours. I have a few meetings, and our normal babysitter got sick. Im not entirely sure when ill be back, but I would be back before closing." Janet tells them. "That's fine. We will be sure to feed your little one during lunch and give them a snack. Do they need a bottle, or can they use a sippy cup?" "She's a big girl. She can use a sippy cup." "Good to know. Do they need special diapers, or are you fine with any brand?" "Any brand of diapers is fine." "Good, and lastly, dew to how some Sissy's can be troublesome, we ask for permission to spank as punishment to keep them in line. Are you ok with bare bottom spanking or clothed spanking?" "Clothed spanking, though you won't have to worry, Max here is always well behaved," Janet said while patting Max on the head before signing the papers. "Ok, darling, you have fun today, and mommy will be back to pick you up in a few hours. Janet leaned down and kissed Max on the cheek before whispering something to them. Max blushed but nodded while hugging the bear tighter. "Come along, sweety, you can have more fun in the other room," Megan says while gesturing towards a door decorated with rainbows and bunnies. Max could hear screams and cheers of other "children" playing in the other room as soon as the door opened. He could see about a dozen other Sissys running around playing when he walked in. They were in some form of childish or baby attire despite looking more like teens. If it weren't for the diapers, most of the sissys could probably pass as young teen girls if it weren't for their childish behavior. Almost immediately, one of the Sissys noticed Max and ran over to them to greet them. "You play?" the sissy wearing a bright orange dress and long blond hair asked. Max let out a whimper before running over and standing behind Kelly's leg. "Hey, it's ok, Max. Jacob here just wants to play with you. Wouldn't you like to play with them?" Kelly asked but only got a head shake, no in response. "Sorry, Jacob, but Max is a little shy. Maybe in a little while, she will play." Jacob sighed before running back towards the other sissys to play while Max stayed next to the nursery attendant. They didn't mind. Magan was used to some Sissys being shy and wanting to be next to someone "Grown-up." By their late teens, most women were taller and stronger than most sissys. Kelly was 5' 9" and was a foot taller than every sissy in the daycare. To all of them, Kelly was a grown-up while they were children. As long as Max didn't get in the way of her work, Kelly or Megan didn't care what the cute little sissy did. The daycare looked just like you would expect. An oversized playroom filled with toys and soft furniture all over the place. Max watched as some sissys sat in the corner coloring at a small table with crayons all around them. Others were playing with large blocks, stacking them and knocking them over. And a few were playing with dolls and stuffed animals. "We dont have any more coming in today, right?" Kelly asked her coworker. "No, Max was the last one for the day," Magan responded while watching everyone. "That's good. I'll go start on lunch then." Kelly tells her as she leaves for the kitchen. Once Kelly was gone, Megan received a message on her phone. Max was curious and stood on his tows to take a peek. "Transfer has been excepted." was what Max could make out. "Curious?" Magan asked when she noticed the sissy looking at her phone. "This is for my application for the children's daycare across town. They liked progress here with sissys and will be promoting me to watch the regular children." In this world, while Sissys are treated like children, most places still prefer to separate them from the actual children. To work with small children, it is often required to practice looking after a sissy before being able to handle small children. Magan knew sissys like Max didn't care about her personal life or even understood what some of the bigger words meant. But it was nice to tell someone about her accomplishment. And for a moment, Magan could have sworn Max could almost understand her entirely based on Max's smile behind his pacifier. Before that thought could linger, Magan and Max heard a commotion. "THAT TOY IS MINE!" a Sissy in a blue onisy shouted as they pulled on another sissy's hair. "Lola! Bad girl! No!" Magan shouted while running over to the two sissys to separate them. "Lola, this is strike 3!" Magan griped onto Lola's hand and began dragging her towards a chair. Lola pleaded no and tried to pull herself away from the caretaker before she started to bawl. Max watched as Magan sat down on a chair and pulled Lola over her lap. "We gave you two warnings Lola. You know the rules. Strike 3 means 6 spankings." Magen says as she pulls the sissy's diaper down to show off their bottom. Lola screamed, kicked, and tried to cover her butt with her hands, but Magan was able to pin the sissy's hands behind their back before the spanking started. All the sissys flinched as the sound of the first smack echoed out. Lola cried even harder as her butt felt like it was on fire. Then came the next Smack, and another shrill scream came out of Lola. Max stood in front of Magan and Lola while clutching onto her stuffed animal. Her eyes were closely watching as the third smack hit. As soon as the final three spankings were done, Magan pulled the diaper back up and lifted Lola to her feet. Lola was still bawling her eyes out as Magen stood up and gave lola a quick hug before she had Lola sit down in the chair. "You in time out until lunch. You know better, little girl." Magan tells her before turning to the rest of the sissys. "I hope this is enough of a warning to not be naughty." All of the sissys, including Max, nodded in agreement. All of them not wanting to be spanked by a grown-up. ***** About 20 minutes later, Kelly called for all the little ones to line up. Most of them cheered while Lola sniveled as they all ran over to the kitchen and got in line. Max was at the back of it. The kitchen was decent, with a large table and chairs for all the sissys to sit at. In front of each chair was a plate with a sandwich and chips. Kelly had everyone grab a sippy cup from her before going to the table to sit. All of the cups were red except for one lone blue cup. Kelly handed everyone their cup. But gave Lola the only blue. "Sorry, sweety, but you have cant have toys at the table," Kelly tells Max as she hands him a sippy cup. Max nods before running over to a counter to place the stuffed animal down before hurrying over to the table. Max remained quiet at the table despite all the other sissys loudly talking while they ate. He looked at everyone shyly turned down anyone who wanted to speak to him. He just wanted to finish eating soon and get back his stuffed animal. But out of all the sissys, Max wasn't the only quiet one. Lola was also quiet, though for a different reason. She had only eaten about half her sandwich and was now staring down on it while her body fidgeted. She tried to keep her head low, but Max could make out the tinny smile she had. "Eww! Someone pooped!" "Mis. Magan! Lola pooped!" a sissy next to Lola yelled while fanning their face. "Oh no. come on, Lola, I can help you clean up," Magan tells Lola. "How about I do it. Let you relax a moment after watching the kids." Kelly suggested. "Come with me, Lola." Lola happily got out of her chair and followed Kelly. Max also got down from the table. "Done already, Max?" Magan asked as Max put his pacifier back into his mouth and ran over to his toy. Max nodded to her before running off to follow Kelly and Lola. Magan just shrugged. Knowing Kelly could handle watching the two while she kept an eye on the other sissys. Kelly opened the door to the changing room and was surprised to see Max had followed them. "Do you need a diaper change too?" Kelly asked. Max shook his head no, but Kelly still lifted Max's dress to take a peek inside. Inside, Kelly could see the pink cage some parents had their Sissys wear. But the diaper was dry. "Did you just want to see how to change a diaper?" Kelly asked. She was tempted to send Max back to the kitchen, but it wouldn't hurt to have the sissy watch. Max nodded excitedly as Kelly smiled down at him and pet the sissy on the head. Lola was already on one of the 3 large changing stations in the room. She was no longer crying and, in fact, looked like she was excited about something. Max watched as Kelly put on plastic gloves and pulled out the changing supplies. Max coiled in discussed when the diaper was opened, and he saw the diaper's contents. Kelly was unfazed and didn't mind it so much anymore. She cleaned up all the diaper contents very fast and used a wipe to really clean a place Max knew all "adults" Lola's no-no spot. A place only grown-ups could clean for sissys. Max watched as Lola's no-no spot grew hard and stiff while pointing straight up. "See that little Max?" Kelly asked. "Some sissys get that way, and it's sometimes hard for them to stop. So im going to help little Lola feel good to make it go away." Max turned to look up at Kelly with his stuffed animal looking up while Kelly clicked on her pen before rubbing baby oil on her gloved hands. "It's still so cute how despite being 22, Lola's little friend here isn't as big as my pinky." She swirled her pinky around Lola's no-no spot before lightly pinching it with her thumb and index finger and moving her hand up and down. Lola's hands clutched her shirt tightly while happily panting the pleasurable sensation. "Now, let's give little Lola something better," Kelly said while using her free hand to slide between Lola's legs and poke at her butthole. Lola squealed happily as Kelly's oiled-up middle finger slid in easily before going all the way in. "Aw, even sissys like it when something long is put in there," Kelly commented as Max just watched the whole ordeal. He reached up to his pacifier and turned a little nob on the front. Lola began to pant even harder and harder until she let out a loud moan while her body twitched and white stuff spewed out of her no-no spot. "There we go," Kelly says as she pulls her finger out of Lola's butt and grabs a few wipes to clean up the little mess. "Such a good girl Lola." Kelly then taped the new diaper on before clicking the pen once more. "Ok, max, would you like to try it?" Kelly asked with a giant smile on her face, but Max shook his head no. "oh, dont worry, sweety, I can't take off your cage, but I can still make you feel just as good as Lola. watch." Max was getting a bit worried as he backed away while Kelly stepped forward to pull Max over to the changing table. But before Kelly could grab Max, the bell to the front door went off and signaled that someone had opened the front door. Kelly got back into business mode and walked out of the changing room with Lola and Max following. Lola now has a relaxed smile on her face after feeling good. "Oh, miss Janet. Nice to see you again. But I thought you said you would be busy for a few hours? It's only been 1." Kelly says as she greets Janet. Max immediately runs over hugs his mommy. "Awe, I missed you too, sweety. And yes, I thought I would be busy too, but one of my meetings got canceled, and the other was finished much faster than I thought." Janet tells Kelly with a bright smile. "How was my little darling." "She was perfect," Kelly tells her with a bright smile. "Such a good girl," Janet said as she hugged Max before kissing his cheek. Janet signed and paid for the service before taking Max to the minivan and opening the back seat. Their sat the Large car seat Max had to get into. Once Janet was in the car, the two of them pulled out of the daycare parking lot while giving a small smile and waving to Kelly in the window. As soon as they were out of view, Janet's smile quickly disappeared as she let out a huge sigh. "God dame, I hate having to do this!" Janet yelled. Why couldn't they have put someone else in this stupid dress to play mommy!?" "Hey, orders are orders." came a voice behind Max as a Guy sat up from the back. "Now stop complaining.?" Max spit out the pacifier before handing the stuffed animal to the guy. The shy personality was whipped away from his face. "Hey, i would take that dress over being forced to ware a diaper anyday.," Max tells her while turning his head twords the back. "Oh and garage, you oh me $50." "No way you did all of that without speaking!" Garage shouted as he took the bear and opened the back of the head to see a camera hidden inside. "Check the tape." "So who was it? Kelly or Megan?" Janet asked as she lit a cigerit. "Magan is clean. She has a great record and still follows all the rules. Including when it came to spanking. Just enough to send a message, but not hard enough to leave marks." Max told them. "So it was Kelly?" "Yep. Kelly most likely records it with the pen on her chest," Max tells them. "Fucking sick bitch. Sexual acts with sissiys are disgusting. Let alone filming it and selling it online for a qwick buck." Garage sais while downloading the evidence to his computer. The police learned about the illegal filming a few weeks ago and could pinpoint roughly where it was coming from but could not tell who was doing it. That is why they had to send in their top-secret weapon. The undercover sissy. Max was unlike all Sissys. He was a Beta. They are physically just like every other sissy except for mentality. Beta's have normal brains. However, Betas are extremely rare and tend to not be taken seriously by everyone. But that's what makes them perfect for going undercover to help protect abused and exploited Sissys. "So, what is next?" Max asked as he was handed his next undercover assignment and smiled.

I had inspiration for a one-off today, so I wrote it. Enjoy. __________________ The Talk Honey, could you come downstairs please? We need to talk … You’re not in trouble, but we need to have a little chat. There you are. Come sit next to me. Did I tell you you’re looking handsome today? Cuz you are. O, don’t roll your eyes at me. I know you’re perpetually embarrassed by your stepmom, but you’re eighteen, a little old to still be blushing every time I give you a compliment. Here’s another compliment: I’m proud of you. You’re doing so well at school, and you’re adjusting so well. You even followed the no-pants at home rule without my even reminding you today. I know it’s silly to you, but it really helps me keep an eye on your diapers. Speaking of, lemme check … Just as I thought, damp but you don’t need a change. And clean too. And don’t go making your pouty face. I can see when you’re wet and I can usually smell when you’re messy, but I can’t always tell if you’re wet enough to need changed, and sometimes you have those small poopy accidents, and I can’t tell if you passed gas or just made a very small mess, or if you’re about to make a much bigger mess in your diaper. That’s why sometimes when you’re poopy you have to wait for a change, so I can make sure you’re all done. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. I wanted to talk about how you’re doing such a good job adjusting to being back in diapers. Remember when I first put you back in diapers, how hard you cried? I didn’t cry because I wanted to be brave for you, but I was crying on the inside because when you’re not happy, I’m not happy. That’s what it’s like being a mom, even a stepmom and even when her baby is eighteen. You cried so hard I thought my heart would break for you. And then the tantrums, o my gosh. All that yelling about how you don’t need diapers and your accidents weren’t that bad and how you’re a grownup and can make your own choices. But you never stopped me from changing your pampers or ever took them off on your own, and that told me you knew deep down you need your diapers and that I’d made the right choice by not giving you a choice. I’m just so glad you stopped having those tantrums before I had to spank your bottom. It's been almost two years since your last spanking. You hated it so much then and went on and on about how you were too old for it. Remember how you would argue you were too big even when you were over my lap, and you’d keep arguing right up until the first spank? Then the sniffling and the tears. I didn’t like spanking your bottom then, and I didn’t want to have to start doing it again. Imagine how you’d feel thinking your spanking days were behind you and then getting turned over my knee, having your wet diaper pulled down, and having your stepmom spank your bare fanny until you were a sniffling, crying mess with your feet kicking and your nose running just like when you were little. Just imagine yourself as technically an adult, coming off your stepmommy’s lap holding your little red bottom and doing the spanky dance from foot to foot with your privates on display but too worried about your sore bottom to even think to be modest. Don’t think it can’t still happen by the way, but I hope your spanking days are over just like you do. Imagine how your diapers would hold in the heat of your spanking. With how often you’re wetting, I wouldn’t even be able to put you in the corner bare bottom anymore. I’d have to diaper you again right away and it would keep your poor bottom so warm, and anybody visiting would be able to see your spanked red thighs peeking out from under your diaper, as if you in the corner sniffling and with those big tear streaks on your face wouldn’t tell them you’d just gotten off stepmommy’s lap. Anyway, I’m so glad just the threat of a spanking, and a few warning swats to your bottom, were enough to put a stop to those tantrums. I think you’d pee all over me during your spankings, but more importantly, I never liked having to spank your bottom no matter how naughty your choices were. We’re both lucky those few spanks I gave you when you were legs up on the changing table finally got through: let stepmommy do what’s best for you, put you back into diapers, or you’d be in for one heckuva trip over my knee for a bare bottom spanking with my hand and hairbrush. But phew! No need for that kind of discipline, and you’re doing so well adjusting not just at home but at school. Remember your first week back at school in diapers? That very first day, we went to the nurse’s office to drop off your diapers and changing supplies. You were so upset because the diapers wouldn’t fit in any bag we had, and you had to carry the two packages through the hallways. If I was embarrassed for you to be back in diapers, I can only imagine how you must’ve felt walking past all your schoolmates and teachers. Nurse Jenny was very nice about it all. She wanted you back in diapers two years ago because of your accidents, but I kept saying you’d get past it, that the doctors would figure it out and I didn’t want to hurt your self-esteem by putting you back in pampers like I was giving up on you ever using the potty again. Nurse Jenny tried to tell me how much worse for your self-esteem it must be having accidents in your pants that everyone could see, but I thought I knew best. Three outfits a day you were going through before we tried pull-ups, and those were so leaky you were still coming home in different pants than I sent you to school in. And socks, and sometimes even shoes. Remember how icky it felt when your weewee accidents would run down your legs into your shoes? Poor little lamb. It was your stinky accidents that changed my mind. I tried to tell myself they were one-offs, but Nurse Jenny was adamant. I still didn’t believe it, and I felt sorry for her having to help you clean up after those times you messed your goodnites, but I thought I was doing what was best for you. Even if, as you and I learned too many times, goodnites just aren’t made to hold the kinds of accidents a big kid – sorry, young adult – like you can have in them. Dirty pull-ups, dirty pants … Let’s face it: dirty diapers are much better, if we’re grading on a curve. Cleanup on someone your size isn’t easy, heaven knows, but much easier to clean up your dirty diapers. At least everything usually stays in your diaper. Blowouts happen – heaven and everyone else shopping at Walmart that day knows that too – but more stinky accidents than not were blowouts when you were having them in your goodnites. It was almost as bad as when you browning your tighty whiteys twice a day. Bottoming out your huggies is, well, not convenient, but more convenient, don’t you think? Of you course you do. And hasn’t Nurse Jenny been so nice? She didn’t get cross when you disobeyed her and she had to go pull you out of class to change your diaper even though you knew to go to her when you needed changed. Remember what the three of us talked about? … That’s right: your diapers can’t help you if you don’t get them changed. They’re not any better than your tighty whiteys if you sit in class until they’re sopping wet cuz you're afraid someone will wonder why you’re leaving class and don’t need to ask permission, or if they hear your crinkling or see you waddling. You’ve even learned to walk in your diapers with barely any waddling at all unless they’re soaked or full. You don’t even cry anymore when you need to go see Nurse Jenny. Yes, she told me about how you’d shown up at her office door sniffling those first few days, wearing such a sad frown almost pleading to get you into something dry and clean. And I know you don’t like the way she baby talks to you during your diaper changes, but if it helps her get through a yucky job, more power to her. Besides, she sent me a video of one of your changes like I asked her to, and I don’t think her baby talk was over the top or too embarrassing. You are a much tush huggy fudger at least twice and usually three times a day. There’s no use denying it, and you may have been pouting in that video and trying to look all grumpy and grown up, but I saw how you giggled and squirmed when she tickled your sides and blew that great big raspberry on your tummy. No use denying that you liked it. That’s why I started doing it at home. You can’t hide the little squees and smiles you make when I tickle your tummy any more than you can hide what you do in your diapers. And isn’t baby talk better than awkward silence like you have something to be ashamed of? Because you don’t. You have nothing to be ashamed of. You can’t help your accidents. That’s why you’re back in diapers, like a toddler who could be potty trained but for whatever reason isn’t it, except you’re an adult. And that’s okay, and you now that now, and I’m proud. And you’re doing so well socially. I know it was hard at first, but it did take longer for word to get around that you were back in diapers. You said it would happen by lunch time that first day, but it took the whole day … Yes, that is a meaningful difference. Trust me, I know these things. That’s why I’m the stepmommy. A few people saw you carrying them into school, but I suspect a lot of people thought that was just a rumor when word started to get around. Then you had that leak in class when you didn’t go to Nurse Jenny. Most of your classmates thought it was just another one of your accidents, and they were used to those. I bet the girls who babysit must’ve recognized those two half-moons on your cheeks as a leaky diaper. Nothing else leaves wet spots like those except huggies that just can’t hold anymore, but they didn’t know for sure. But it wasn’t until gym … Don’t make that grumpy face with me. We’ve been over this. I know the school would have excused you from gym, but you need the exercise, and if you have to take gym, you have to change for it. It’s not my fault there’s nowhere private for you to change for gym. Anyway, it wasn’t until gym that the rumors were confirmed. Remember how upset you were? I had to come up to school just to calm you down, sitting in the coach’s office until you stopped crying. My boss wasn’t happy – so much missed work leaving work to bring you fresh clothes, but when I explained our new solution, she agreed anything I needed to do to get you used to your new “underpants” would make me a better, more productive worker in the long term … I’m not verbally putting quotations marks around “underpants” when I refer to your diapers as “underpants.” You always say I do that, and I don’t have any idea what you mean. Anyway, when your new “underpants,” became common knowledge, and you had a good cry with me about how embarrassing it was and how it was even more embarrassing that everyone knew you were in coach’s office crying with your stepmom cuz everyone saw your new “underpants” and you felt like such a baby, I said it would al turn out okay, and I was right, wasn’t I? Of course I was. I know there are bullies who still tease you, but almost everyone in the whole school knew about your accidents already. So many accidents – big ones, small ones, wet ones, stinky ones – it was common knowledge you had them. I’d be at the beauty parlor and one of the other women would be talking about how their teen said one of their peers had a big accident in their pants at school, and I’d blush just like you are right now and not say a word when all the women agreed someone who has those kinds of accidents should be back in diapers even if they are eighteen. It seemed like most of the town knew someone who knew someone who had seen or heard about your problem, and it’s not like we live in a small town. I’m just sorry that it seems like everyone knew you needed to be back in diapers before I was ready to admit it to myself. But other than the bullies, you’d had so many accidents and so many destroyed pull-ups that most of your classmates didn’t even make fun when they found out you were wearing diapers at school. They knew you needed diapers even before I did. Remember what they used to say? “Ew, gross, they should be in diapers.” I know most of them were teasing, but they had a point. And I’m sure it doesn’t bother them that you aren’t leaving puddles in the classroom or interrupting class. No more “Mrs. So-and-so? It happened again,” and the teacher had to ask if you had an accident in your pants again, and you’d deny it right to their faces until they made you stand up and then sent you to Nurse Jenny, and then the custodian having to come in and clean up if it got everywhere. I don’t know if you know this, but in the other sections, no one would sit in the same chair as you. And as smelly as your poopy diapers can be, they’re still better than poopy pants. Your social life actually improved when I put you back in diapers. You're not eating lunch alone anymore cuz people aren’t afraid you’ll pee on them if they’re sitting next to you. Isn’t it nice eating with your classmates? And I bet you like the attention you’re getting from the girls in your class. It’s not exactly romantic attention, like we talked about when you thought maybe that one girl liked you. It’s more like they think of you as their younger sibling. That’s why it’s the girls who’ve stood up to the bullies for you more than the boys, though plenty of boys have stuck up for you too. Isn’t that nice of them, telling the bullies to mind their own business and that you can’t help it if you still need diapers because your dirty your undies and isn’t that better than what it was like sharing a classroom with you before? That sure did shut up the bullies; well, most of them. You don’t even come home crying anymore. I’m so proud of you for that. You can even play sports again if you want. I know you worry about waddling on the field or going two hours without a change, but we can double-diaper you like we do for car rides, movies, church, going out to eat, shopping, the park, and the beach. I know everybody can tell you’re wearing diapers when you’re doubled up, but isn’t that just proof that no one will make fun? If they all know and no one – well, almost no one – points or laughs or teases, that just proves most people will be nice about it. You even went to a party, and I know how brave of you it was to do that. We’re lucky to have a neighbor like Samantha, and luckier that she’s in your class. Isn’t it nice to have someone you’ve known your whole like come hang out with you when mom and I have a date night? … What? She’s not your babysitter, sweetie, we’ve talked about that many times. She’s just a friend who comes over to spend time with you when we’re not around. Really. I know it’s embarrassing for you when she changes your diaper, but it’s embarrassing for her too, not to mention yucky. It’s been so nice of her to take you places too, like that party. When I was your age, disappearing into a bedroom at a party would start all kinds of rumors; I know she was worried about that because the two of us talked about it, but I assured her everyone would know she was just helping you change your pampers, and I was right. People would’ve assumed that even if I didn’t tell her to leave your soaked diaper at the top of the trash in the kitchen just to be sure. Everybody already knows you wear diapers. Isn’t it better for people to know you were just getting your diaper changed and not that have any confusion or rumors that you had intercourse with her? You don’t want a reputation for being easy or loose or “scoring” with women, do you?. Neither does Samantha. She told me the last thing she wanted was for people to think the two of you were having sex or, worse, that you’re dating. It’s so wonderful to have a good, virtuous girl who thinks not only of her own reputation but yours as well for a friend, isn’t it? I know you have your urges, of course, which are perfectly natural. You can’t help those any more than you can help everything else to do with your diaper area. We don’t have to talk about birds and bees you’re not ready, but just know that when you’re read to discuss love and relations, I’m here for you. I just hope it’s before you leave for college. In the meantime, it’s best if we both just keep pretending you don’t do anything in your diapers except pee and poop yourself. I spoke with Pastor Sarah, and she agrees some things are better left undiscussed. She was so eager to have that conversation over; “Please, let’s just stop talking about it and pretend this never happened,” she said. She really lives by her word, as a pastor should. And she was so wonderful in organizing that fundraiser so the men’s bible study group could you build you a changing table in the mother’s room for when you pack your pampers during services. The acoustics really are something in there, aren’t they? So anyway, I just wanted to say how proud I am of you. I know it’s been hard, and I know the future can be scary sometimes, but you’re doing so good. It’s so hard being eighteen and ready to be a grownup but still needing diapers, but I really do believe the further you get into adulthood, the easier wearing diapers will be for you, if only because you’ll get even more used to it than you’ve already gotten. It’s so much easier already and it’s only been a month, right? What a month! And you have so many people who will help you. Such a loving community. And you know you can always come to me for anything. I love you, and I always will. You’ll be stepmommy’s little diaper butt no matter how old you get. Awww, there you go blushing again. Gimme a hug, and then let’s go get your pants changed. If I’m not mistaken – and I’m definitely, definitely not – you’ve been filling your diaper this whole time. March your butt straight to the changing table, stinky pants, and we’ll get you clean and dry and happy in no time. Well, about twenty minutes judging by your waddle, but we’re getting faster at it every day, handsome. Scoot!

“Come on, it landed over here!” I called, cresting the ridge on the side of the bike trail. “Jeez, Charlie, slow down!” Billie called up after me, panting for breath. I shook my head. “And let someone else beat us to the punch?” She could catch up. I wanted to find the meteorite. We’d been out for a hike when it soared across the sky, unmistakeable. A ball of fire with a black, smoky trail plummeting from the sky and into the woods ahead of us. I’d grinned and told Billie, ‘Last one there stinks like a rotten egg!’ before taking off, wanting to beat the other hikers to the treasure. I could see clearly the broken branches that the plummeting meteorite had left. Triangulating the position with a guess, I slid down the steep hill, digging in the heels of my hiking boots to stay upright. My miniskirt caught the edge of a bush and flipped up indecently, but that’s why I wore a pair of athletic pants underneath. What I hadn’t planned on was that a pile of leaves and brush were disguising a pitfall at the bottom of the slope. Instead of sliding to a gentle stop, I lost my footing without warning, fell, snagged my pants on a thorny branch, and twisted my ankle. (Goddammit), I groaned to myself, extricating my limbs from the pile of leaves that’d disguised the gap in the ground. Then I stood up, and–Riiiiip. “Goddammit!” I repeated out loud, feeling sudden cold air on my right thigh as a big section of my pants ripped open. My ankle hurt to stand on, but I limped out of the hole and sat. Prodding at the injury distracted me so much, I didn’t even notice the charred black crash site a few feet away until it gave a little crackling pop. I blinked, looked over. The meteorite was within arm’s reach, black and sooty from its entry into the atmosphere, clods of dirt clinging to its shell. I reached over to wipe away some of the dirt and pick it up, not thinking about how it’d likely be burning hot. When I touched it, though, it felt cool. Icy, almost. I puzzled at that, picking up the rock. It was about the size of a basketball, and other than the dirt chunks stuck to it, perfectly round. Another pop sounded, and the shell suddenly split in my hands, cracking sharply in half. I could have sworn something black and viscous spilled out right onto my lap, but when I looked down, nothing was there. (An illusion,) I guessed. (Or maybe some kind of gas? Should I be worried?) “Chars!” Billie called, coming around the side of the hill, winded. “Jeez, girl, you scared me!” “I’m fine,” I said, standing up. My ankle didn’t really hurt anymore, and my skirt helpfully concealed the hole in my pants. “Come check this out–the meteorite was hollow!” I didn’t think anything else of the strange optical illusion, more fascinated by the meteorite itself. In retrospect, I should have been worried. … We rode our bikes back to town, the meteorite halves in my backpack. This’d been a weekly activity for me and Billie when we were in highschool; traveling out and exploring the surrounding world for hours on end. Now that we were both well into college we still reenacted the ritual, but only when we came home on holidays. I knew I’d get an earful from mom once I got home about not having my phone on me, but I couldn’t be bothered. I was on break, nobody but me got to have my constant attention, and I was an adult–I didn’t need anyone nannying me to ensure I was safe. We got back to Billie’s place. Technically it belonged to her parents, but both were out of town for a couple days, so it was all hers until the weekend. “Jeez, Chars,” Billie panted as we stopped in the driveway, taking out her fob for the garage door. “Aren’t you out of breath? You’re not even sweating!” She was right–I felt great. The whole ride home, it’d been as though I’d had a helping hand pushing me along. (You did.) “What did you say?” I asked. Billie blinked at me. “Huh? I didn’t say anything.” “Oh, you–never mind.” We walked our bikes into the garage and she shut it behind us. “Movie?” “Yeah!” “You go pick something out, I’ll be right back,” I said, not explaining explicitly that I needed the bathroom. It didn’t need to be spelled out, after all. She nodded, and I slipped inside and to the right, towards the master bathroom. I knew Billie’s house nearly as well as my own home, she didn’t need to tell me where anything was. I locked the bathroom door behind me and reached to slide down my pants, finally taking a moment to inspect the tear in– They wouldn’t slide down. I frowned and sat down on the toilet seat, lifting up my skirt. The pants looked normal enough, but when I reached to undo the button, it wouldn’t budge, and despite the waistband having a little give, I couldn’t for the life of me pull them down from around my waist. Frowning and looking closer, I saw the tiniest hint of black residue around the button, and– (Hello.) “What the f**k?” I blurted. (Thanks for the ride. I was worried I’d be stuck with a host that had no real will of its own.) (Okay what’s going on, I didn’t think that.) (No, you didn’t. I did.) I stood and hurried to the mirror, inspecting my reflection. I looked normal enough, but I had apparently gone crazy, hearing voices in my head that definitely weren’t coming from me. (Oh, you’re going to be fun,) the voice in my head purred. (I’ve been exploring your head for the right buttons to press, and I think I’ve located one.) Involuntarily, memories flashed through my head, childhood sleepovers where I’d had to flee in embarrassment after wetting Billie’s bed, occasional accidents at school due to sheer bad luck, the most humiliating memories of my childhood and teens. “I don’t understand,” I gasped. “Why–who–what are you?” In answer, I felt something trickling up from around my waist, something not quite liquid and not quite solid, an inky black entity that slithered up my neck and showed itself in the mirror. (Your hormones are delicious, and this’s only been an appetizer.) I shook my head as the inky whatever-it-was disappeared down my shirt, though I felt it teasing over my nipples before it vanished from my senses. I’d lost it. I’d begun hallucinating. I’d– (Oh, I’m very much real, and I promise I’m not going anywhere. Tell me, will you wet yourself now, or will you leave and invent some excuse to try to hide it from your friend?) “Wh-what?” I stammered, outloud. My cheeks flushed pink at the thought of wetting my pants. (That rush–I’ve certainly found the right buttons. I don’t think I’ll let you use the toilet again for a long, long time, at least not while you’ve got such feelings associated with it.) I swallowed. It was insane, but I trusted the voice like I’d trust a bear trap–I had no confidence, except that it wanted to hurt me. “Would…” I started. “Would you–” (You don’t have to speak out loud for me to understand you, you know.) “Okay, but this is less confusing,” I replied in a whisper. “Would you accept a compromise?” (Why would I accept a compromise on your humiliation, when I can force it from you at will?) “Because…” I started to say, but I couldn’t say it out loud. My idea had no merit, I’d just give the thing, the whatever-it-was, more ammunition. But, unfortunately, I’d thought the idea, so now it knew. (Yes. Yes, I’d like that very much.) “No,” I said. “I changed my mind–” (I’ll keep these pants sealed to your body until you go get those. My patience will outlast yours, I’m not going anywhere and you cannot stop me.) I rubbed my face with both hands, squeamish at the thought, but…I didn’t have an option. I’d need to go buy some diapers. Splashing a little water on my face, I braced myself. My hands were shaking, and my cheeks were flush with– (No, it’s not excitement,) I told myself. (Yes, it is.) I dried my hands and left the bathroom, hoping to sneak past Billie without an explanation. No luck, she heard me and called down the hallway. “Hey, how about that new Venom movie?” “Eh, I heard it stinks,” I deflected. “Hey, something can stink and still be fun,” Billie argued. “Who were you talking to, by the way?” “Um…” I didn’t have a good answer. “Long story. I have to go, uh, run an errand.” “Are you okay, Chars?” She asked. “You look worried.” “Just gotta go,” I said. “I’ll explain it later.” (Will you, now? That’ll be interesting.) “Ooookay.” Billie was dubious, but didn’t press. I left on my bike, pedaling to get to the pharmacy on the edge of town. I could feel the symbiote on my body, now, enhancing me in little ways, putting energy in my pedaling. (I don’t want you to get tired yet,) it assured me. “Thanks?” I whispered back. More concerningly, I could feel it exploring my body. Phantom sensations tingled up my nerves as it slipped around, between my legs, around my breasts, over every inch of my skin, learning me better than any boyfriend or girlfriend I’d ever had. I parked my bike, locked it up, and walked into the pharmacy. It was your standard little store, a dozen shelves and cheap fluorescent lights that had never been replaced since they were installed in the seventies. “Hey, Chars!” (Oh, no.) (Oh, yes!) I knew the guy working behind the register. His name was Jim. We’d gone steady in highschool. The flame had died out about junior year, but we’d stayed friends, and…well, it was a small town. I guess he’d stayed and gotten a job. “Uh, hi,” I said. “Can I help you find anything?” he asked. “Um…” I said. “My…grandma…needs to get some diapers. Thirty six inch waist?” It was conspicuously my measurements, but I didn’t know how else to ask. He smirked, but didn’t press the obvious lie. Maybe he’d even bought it. (I can smell endorphins on him. His body is laughing at you.) My blush only deepened. “The sizes aren’t that precise,” Jim said, “But if the stuff on the shelf isn’t what you need, I’ve got a few options in the back. I’ll be right back.” I felt even stupider for not just grabbing a pack off the shelf and buying it without explanation, but I’d already dug this hole for myself. While I stood awkwardly by the counter, waiting for him to return, I felt the symbiote move, slipping beneath my panties. “No,” I whispered, but it wasn’t like I could stop it. The symbiote slipped inside my sex, formed into something almost solid, lapping at me with a degree of personalized passion that no sexual partner had ever matched. It knew me, it knew my body, my memories, the way I reacted to its touch, and it used that to make my knees almost buckle in seconds. I pressed my hands to the counter, hiding that I had suddenly begun to sweat, hiding that I was being fucked within an inch of my life while Jim returned, holding a pack of diapers labeled ‘Southcoast Supreme’. They looked unreasonably thick, but I didn’t really know what adult diapers looked like. “These should fit you–” he started to say, correcting quickly with, “–ur grandma. Are you alright? You seem flush.” “Just…” I said, a squeak escaping my lips. (Oh f**k,) I thought. I could barely speak, and my poker face had to be absolutely terrible. “Can I pay?” “Uh…yeah.” Jim scanned the package of diapers and rang me up. I had to fish through my backpack for my purse while the symbiote rode me hard beneath my panties, holding me tortuously on the edge of orgasm. I stuck my card in the chip reader, hurriedly snatched the package of diapers, and fled to the bathroom without another word. Only once I made it to privacy did the symbiote give me any relief–it didn’t let me orgasm, but it at least let up, no longer forcing me to the edge so frustratingly that I wanted to cry. I locked the bathroom door. “F-f**k…” I mumbled. (See? You can enjoy our relationship, sometimes.) I shook my head. “Okay, just…give me a name. What can I call you?” (Why do you want that?) “Because this’ll all seem less fucked up if I have something to call you,” I said. “Less like a weird dream. I don’t know. Humor me?” (Be a good girl and put on your diaper, and I’ll give you a name.) I obeyed meekly, shucking out of my pants. I was excited, and it felt wrong to be excited. As I slipped down my panties, the extreme wetness of the cotton stood out–in just a minute of incomplete teasing I’d ruined them. I eyed the toilet. Now that I had my pants around my ankles, I could potentially get away with using it before– The inky symbiote launched itself up my body and two tendrils shot towards the wall. It yanked me away from the toilet, forced my body down onto the sink countertop and held me there, unable to wriggle free. (Think of defying me again, and I’ll do more than make you comply,) it warned. I squirmed, but my body was stuck firmly down to the countertop. “I…” I started. “I need to get my diaper.” That meek response bought me a little wiggle room, and it let me go. I was able to stand, kick my pants the rest of the way off, rip open the package of diapers and retrieve one. I unfolded the thick, rustling plastic with tentative hands, feeling the soft plush padding on the inside. (Am I really doing this?) I thought. For once, my symbiote didn’t reply. Uncertainly, I folded the diaper between my legs in a standing position, reaching for the tape, but I needn’t have bothered. The void substance bubbled up around the outside of the diaper, smoothing it down and wrapping it around me, sticking down the tapes securely. It fit perfectly, thanks in no small part to the many small microcorrections that the symbiote had made to its snugness and tape placement. I bent to pick up my jeans, but the void wrapped around my wrist, pulling it back. (Your skirt only,) it warned. (No pants.) My skirt wasn’t long enough for decency, which is why I wore it with the pants to begin with. Checking in the mirror, I saw clearly that the bottom of my diaper peeked out, visible to anyone who might try and check out my ass. That was unfortunate, since I had a nice ass. “Now what?” I asked. “I did what you asked.” (You can call me Haven.) I swallowed. Haven. I wasn’t sure what to make of that, except– Haven slithered beneath my diaper, suddenly probing inside me once again, though not in the same way as before. It pushed against my back door, slickly sliding inside like an enormous plug, filling me up heavily. I bit my lip and suppressed a moan, sinking my weight against the wall. I hadn’t expected the sudden resurgence of sexual intensity. Nor did I expect the sudden warm mass I felt, piling up in the seat of my diaper. I hadn’t felt any need, any push, only surprise and confusion as a mess spilled out of me. I tried to squeeze and fight the tide, but Haven held me open, utterly helpless to keep from ruining my diaper. And it wasn’t done. As I sank to my knees, a piece of Haven shot up my shirt, my neck, my chin, sliding towards my mouth. While one end of it fucked me from behind, thrusting into my ass and forcing me to fill my diaper all at once, the other end probed my mouth, pushing between my lips and sliding its tentacle-like form deep into my throat. I bottomed out completely. Sliding to the floor, my weight landed on the ever-swelling mush in my diaper. Hormones and instinct controlling me, I sucked on the probing thing in my mouth, totally overwhelmed by Haven’s hopeless domination. I could smell my diaper, the mucky odor filling my nostrils, but the deep humiliation only drove me down harder into a totally submissive headspace. Once Haven went after me completely, it didn’t take long. It took only a moment as I felt a third slick, rigid tentacle slip inside me, my every hole filled by the symbiote that had come to own me, and I shuddered and moaned and squirted into my diaper, washing away the wetness indicators with a body-shattering orgasm. I lay in a heap for a moment, and in a small act of mercy, Haven let me recover and catch my breath. (I will do this to you,) Haven reminded. (Whenever I want to, and you cannot stop me.) In the moment of post orgasmic bliss, I was alright with that. Slowly, though, the needs of reality started to creep back in, and the state of my diaper came to the front of my mind–in just a minute of devastating passion I’d utterly ruined it. “Um…” I said. “Can I take this off, please?” (No.) I could almost hear Haven’s wicked laugh. (You promised your friend that you’d tell her why you had to leave, and I’ve decided I’m going to enforce that promise. I’ll be holding this diaper on you for as long as it takes, until you confront her face to face and explain what you just experienced, and how deeply you enjoyed it.) I swallowed. “And then?” I asked, meekly hoping for a generous answer. (And then I think I’ll want to play with you again.) ... 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This is a sequel to A Thanksgiving Special, available wherever the best diaper stories are found (like here) and to A Christmas Special (here). Read those first or dive on in! _______________________ Basic party etiquette is if there’s a line for the guest bathroom, you wait. You do NOT go upstairs to use the host’s bathroom. But what if you can’t wait? These are your thoughts as you stand in the upstairs bathroom, unsure of what to do and with your partner not answering your texts. She probably can’t hear her phone above the music and your friends and acquaintances ringing in the New Year, still four hours away. You jump when there’s a knock on the door. “Um, occupied,” you say back. “I know,” says the host, a slight edge in her voice reminding you that you’ve invaded her private space. “Is everything okay,” she asks because you’ve been in there a while. The upstairs bathroom is right at the top of the stairs. She must’ve seen you go in, and there’s a chance others are noticing this exchange. “Y-yes … Could you …” You hesitate, embarrassed already and reluctant to add to your embarrassment by being a grown adult asking for someone to go get your partner because you need help in the bathroom. But you don’t have a choice and ask. The emotional stress is becoming physical as you hear your host’s high heels tapping against the hardwood as she descends the stairs. It’s a long five-minute wait, or maybe not even one minute, until you hear two sets of heels returning before a knock on the door. Your partner’s voice has never sounded so good to you. “Are you okay,” she asks. She doesn’t need to ask who’s inside; no one else at the party would need her help in the bathroom. “Yes,” you answer with your voice quivering. You’re not the crying type, or at least you weren’t until recently; you’ve been trying so hard to convince yourself your newfound tendency to get teary is coinciding with your return to diapers on only by coincidence. Outside the bathroom, your partner is asking your host to go and get her bag from the guest room. You hear her saying she should be able to pick it out among all the others because it will be the biggest, and she asks as casually as she can, but with sharpness communicating it’s a minor emergency, if the two of you can use the master bathroom. You hear heels retreating again, and your partner whispers through the door, “Unlock the door, sweetie.” You do and she opens it just enough to peek her head around the corner. “C’mon, let’s go.” “I can’t,” you say with a mix of plaintiveness and frustration. “We’re just going down the hall to Jen’s bedroom. Quick.” She reaches out her hand for yours, and you let her lead you down the hall. It’s unfortunate the upstairs bath is at the top of the stairs leading up from the kitchen, where people tend to gather as they often do at parties. You do your best not to notice whether anyone below is watching as your partner leads across the landing before the two of you disappear from the party’s sight. “I’m sorry,” you say to your partner. “Hold on,” she says, “Almost there.” When the door closes behind you, you can’t hold it in anymore and start to cry hard while apologizing over and over. “I’m sorry,” you tell her, and you need her to know you’re sorry. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” “Shhh,” she says while pressing your face to her shoulder, giving you a warm, dark place to let your tears free. “You don’t need to be sorry.” “I’m sorry.” “Shhh,” she says and rubs small circles on your back, “don’t be sorry. Never be sorry for this. It’s not your fault.” You feel her hand surreptitiously slide down past your waist to pat your bottom. “It’s not your fault.” That’s how Jen finds the two of you, your partnering trying to calm you down while you sob into her shirt and tell her, “I tried. I really tried!” “Shhh. I know you did. It’s okay. There, there.” She notices Jen, who quickly closes the door behind her, and continues patting your back. “This is why we talked about it being okay to stop trying. It just makes you so upset, honey.” “Is everything okay,” Jen mouths to your partner. You feel her nod in response, and ow cognizant you’re not alone together, you pick your head up and do your best to dry up your tears, sniffling hard and wiping at your eyes with your palms. “I’m sorry,” your partner says to Jen. “Thanks so much. We’ll be as quick as we can.” Rather than handing her the bag, she approaches and asks, “Need a hand?” You can’t believe your ears, which turn an impossibly deep shade of red as your partner declines, explaining, “Thanks, but you don’t want to do that. It’s a big change, if you know what I mean.” “I don’t mind.” You don’t even want to be there, making it unfathomable to you why Jen would even offer, let alone why she didn’t take the out your partner had politely offered her. Indeed, having implied what kind of accident you had, your partner was more polite to Jen than to your feelings. Not that it upsets you very much, aware as you are of the scent beginning to make itself known, taking away any chance to hide the nature of what you did in your diaper. No use getting upset over a moot point. “We’ll just be in each other’s way in the bathroom.” “It’s a big bathroom.” “But really?” your partner asks. “How long have the three of us been friends? Let me help. Call it being a good host,” she chuckles. “An exceptionally good host,” she adds. Your partner takes a deep breath she lets out in a sigh, and while you stand there anxiously unable to stop it, she accepts. You want to protest, to say no, to say this is private, to thank Jen and show her out of her own bedroom. But you know you don’t get a say. If you’d had a say on Thanksgiving, you’d still be wearing underpants … and you’d be facing a much larger and more embarrassing problem. Everything having to do with your diapers since Thanksgiving has only reinforced that you don’t get a say when it comes to your diapers. The point was driven home the day before when your partner sat you down to tell you she’d informed your friends of your problem and how you were handling it, again explaining it was better this way, not having to hide it or risk being discovered and sure that your friends would all embrace you and be understanding, would probably never even mention it. She’d been right about that with her family and with yours, but the frustration with your condition and the sense of powerless over it now had been building for longer than just the past month, and it came out then as you raised your voice and told her she had no right to do that. She spoke firmly without raising her voice in turn. “I have every right because you wouldn’t be handling it at all if I didn’t take charge,” she said pointedly, all the more embarrassing because you knew it was true. “And you do not raise your voice.” Like she didn’t ask when she put you in diapers or when she told her family, your family, and all your friends, she didn’t ask when she put you in a timeout to calm down. She was already calm; it was you who needed a moment to collect yourself and make peace with what was about to happen. After your spanking and the jig you danced coming off her lap with a red, stinging bottom, she let you cry on her shoulder as she alternated between rubbing and patting your butt. You received a loving lecture about raising your voice and how you must accept that you do need help and will receive it whether you want it or not. “You’re leaking right now,” she said, and you looked down at yourself to see she was right – you were dribbling on her jeans. “I’m not trying to embarrass you. I’m trying to take the embarrassment away. You need help, and I’m going to give it you. Understand?” You do, which is why you don’t fuss when your partner takes your hand again and leads you into the bathroom with Jen in toe. “I’m sorry we need your bathroom for this. Just seems much better than using the hall one where others could see me disappearing behind the door and two of us coming out,” your partner explains. It’s comforting to know she really is concerned with your feelings and wants to spare you embarrassment, or at least all the embarrassment she can, and you remember the New Year’s Resolution the two of you had talked about that morning during your after-breakfast change, that you will try your hardest to trust her to help you with your problem. “I get it,” Jen says with a wink, though who it’s directed to isn’t clear. It’s somehow less embarrassing for you to stay silent and let everything happen to you, so you do while the two of them chat like nothing is out of the ordinary as you walk into her bathroom. “Could you get everything out while I get them undressed? Lift your foot for me.” You do and she takes off your shoe, followed by the other, narrating as she goes. “Learned the hard way it’s best just take pants all the way off for big changes, didn’t we hun?” “True no matter their age,” Jen says as she unfolds the very large changing mat your partner found on Etsy. Too big good for a shopping trip, but ideal for making sure makeshift changings rooms are left as clean as you find them on longer outings when you don’t have to to carry the diaper bag everywhere. You step out of your pants and cringe a little while your partner examines the inside to be sure they’re clean. “Turn around for me, honey.” You do, and she puts her hand on your bottom, patting it once and seeming to lift it for a moment before letting droop again, sizing up the task ahead of her. “Open your legs a little, sweetie,” Jen says from down on the floor. You do, preferring to think on the you’ve become ‘sweetie,’ ‘honey,’ and ‘sweetheart’ to so many in the past five weeks, in addition to ‘sport,’ ‘tiger,’ and ‘kiddo,’ rather than the sight you’re presenting or whom you’re presenting it to. “The onesie got a little,” Jen says, pointing to where your onesie disappears between your thighs. “Are you feeling okay,” your partner asks you. “Something not agree with your tummy?” You shake your head. Your tummy felt fine now. And you didn’t feel sick before. Just an urgent need followed by a minor pain as you tried the knob on the guest bathroom only to find it occupied. You’re not supposed to take your diaper off yourself, but you imagined your partner somehow wouldn’t mind under the circumstances and quick stepped toward the stairs, hoping no one noticed. You must’ve been discreet because your partner keeps such an attentive eye on you, but she didn’t see you duck around Jeremy as you sped through the kitchen and up the stairs. Only Jen noticed where you’d disappeared to, and you were grateful she had, if only because your partner didn’t respond to your text after you’d closed the door and finished what had begun happening in your pants as you awkwardly climbed the steps. “Ready,” Jen says. “Wait – are you sure you’re done?” A humiliating question, but you and your partner had learned that lesson the second week of you being back in diapers. “Trust me,” your partner gently scoffs as she reaches around to pat your bottom again, “definitely done. There’s a wet bag in there.” Jen turns back to the diaper bag while your partner takes her heels off and sets them aside next to Jen’s. She unbuttons your shirt, and Jen takes it from her to hang on the back of the door after making sure your shirttail was spared. You can’t help but note the disparity between two women dressed in their best and you naked except for your socks and a well-used diaper. Your partner kneels down to unsnap your onesie. “And gloves,” she adds as she stops herself, remembering your diaper wasn’t quit enough this time. “O! Here,” Jen says and hands her a pair. Mind if I …” “Help yourself, and actually, in the little pocket on the outside are some hair ties.” Jen gets out a second pair of gloves for herself, but only one hair ties that she hands to your partner. Jen’s happy to help, but she’s not going to put herself in a position, literally, in which she’d need to tie her hair back. Your partner takes the rubber band and puts her hair into a ponytail, and you feel a pang of regret, though not for what you’d done; you are already getting over that, because your partner is right and you can’t help it. No, your regret is for how hard your partner worked on her hair for the party. “Sorry,” you say. “I told you, sweetie, nothing to be sorry for.” “For your hair. You did such a nice job on it. Sorry about … It looked really good … You still look great tonight.” She smiles as though remembering in that instant why she loves you, which is why helping you with a loaded diaper isn’t a yucky chore but something she doesn’t mind and even does lovingly. She kisses you, and you awkwardly stand there as she kneels down again. “Turn for me,” she says and holds out a hand toward Jen for a wipe. You do, looking straight ahead as the less of awkward option than looking down at Jen. Your partner uses the wipe to get the hem of your onesie as clean as she can before turning you back around. She unsnaps it and wipes it a little more before saying, “Arms up.” She carefully rolls your onesie up as she stands, covering the dirty part with the clean part to be sure nothing else gets dirty as she takes it off you. Jen holds out her hand to take the onesie to put in the wet bag. After a moment’s assessment of the state of your diaper, your partner says, “Better if we take your plastic panties off with you laying down.” She kneels down again, and you carefully ease yourself onto the changing mat. “Careful,” Jen says anyway, though not sharply. A reminder, not a scolding. “We’ve come this far without a blowout. Don’t wanna fumble on the 1-yard line,” she chuckles. It’s a funny analogy, and you chuckle too despite everything. “Okay,” your partner says as she scoots closer to you. “Sorry you’re gonna see this, Jen.” “Hush. It’s not my first messy diaper change.” Your partner unsnaps your plastic panties, and you lift your hips to let her slide them out. “Just hold the bag open,” she says to Jen and drops them into the bag. Next comes the worst part, and you put your arms across your face as the tapes are torn and that feeling of humiliation returns. Jen leans down and places a kiss on your forehead. “It’s okay,” she promises you. If your eyes were open, you would see that neither of them changes their expression when your partner opens your diaper. It doesn’t bother them in the slightest, something that surprised your partner the very first few times she helped you clean up a messy accident, and she chalked up her unexpected fortitude to her feelings for you. Among those feelings was never pity, just an understanding sympathy. She’s never put it quite in these words, but to her, you are not a person to be pitied but to be loved, admired for your inner strength and perseverance and bravery because you don’t let your problem control your life, and to be cherished because you make her happier than anyone else ever has, the way she does for you. You hear her hum a tune she sometimes hums and that sounds much like one your mother sang you to sleep with many years ago. And you feel her wipe, and you respond to her hands as she gestures with a tap to open your legs to clean inside your thighs. “Okay,” she says, “Up we go.” You raise your ankles, and she helps you hold them up in her left hand while she cleans with her right. “I got that,” Jen says and takes hold of your ankles. “Thanks.” Bored, Jen keeps holding your ankles with one hand and gets a clean diaper out of the bag with the other. “These are so stinkin’ adorable. I can’t believe they make pampers for adults.” “They don’t. It just looks like an actual pampers. Isn’t it cute?” “I love this little lion. Where did you find these?” “Japan. Had to bend over backwards and ask a coworker there for a huge favor to get them, but I wanted these. We’re doing our best to be lighthearted about this, aren’t we,” she asks you rhetorically. “And you really are so sweet and adorable in them.” You blush from the compliment and know that it’s objectively true. ‘Cute,’ ‘sweet,’ and ‘adorable,’ more words almost never used to describe you until your partner put you back into diapers, and you don’t hate it even if you’ll never admit it. After another minute, your partner sighs, and Jen asks, “Everything okay?” “Yeah … just … this is just gonna take a while.” “Needs a bath?” “Can we,” your partner asks with apologetic eagerness. “I really wouldn’t ask, but …” “No no no, not a problem. Totally okay.” “Thanks. Just let me get a little more. A little higher.” Jen tilts your legs back a little further, raising your lower back off the changing pad, and your partner slides the dirty diaper out from under you, using a few more wipes to clean you up before moving the diaper out of the way. “Okay, down.” You lower your legs while your partner rolls the small pile of dirty wipes inside the diaper, sealing it tightly with its own tapes. She moves to put it into the wet bag, and Jen stops her. “I’ll take that to the trash.” “Really?” “Unless you need my help with the bath.” “No, but we can take it home.” “Don’t be silly. I’ll take it straight to the outside trash.” “Thanks. What do you say?” “Thank you,” you say, and you mean it. You didn’t need to be reminded to say it, but you don’t mind. “Really, thank you.” “Big time,” your partner adds. “You’re a great friend.” “Anytime. See you two back downstairs in a bit.” “Thanks,” you say. “but I don’t really wanna go back downstairs.” “You can come back down,” your partner says. “No one will tease you or even look at you funny. I promise. You don’t have to, but you can.” “And if anyone does give you a funny look, I’ll shove them right out the door,” Jen adds. She really is a good friend. “But that won’t happen. Everyone understands. None of our friends are those kind of people.” And she’s right, or none of you would be friends with them. Still, since your partner told everyone about your problem and the solution, they must have surmised by now why the three of you have disappeared for so long, and you’re embarrassed about it whether anyone says anything to you or not. You’d rather just go home. “I know, and thank you, really, but I think I’ll just get a Lyft.” “Wanna go home,” your partner asks. Jen is still kneeling above you. “Yeah,” you tell her. “Sorry.” “It’s okay. And you don’t need to call a Lyft. We’ll go together.” “I don’t want you to miss the party. It’s only nine o’clock.” “That’s okay. I don’t mind. I’m not gonna let you ring in the New Year alone,” your partner says. “You can stay up here if you want. I don’t mind.” “We can’t impose any more than we have,” your partner says with an apologetic scoff. “O, stop it.” “Well,” your partner asks you, “you wanna stay up here? You can come back down later if you feel up to it, or just hang out up here.” “Yeah, okay,” you agree. That’s a good compromise. You rather would just go home, but you don’t want her to miss the party, nor do you want her to start the New Year alone any more than you do yourself. “Thank you.” “You’ve said that enough. Let’s just assume it,” Jen says sunnily. “Need a change of pants,” she asks, addressing the question to your partner. “We never go anywhere without a spare,” your partner tells her. If your onesie was a little dirty, your pants must be too even if it wasn’t so easy to see. “And some jammies just in case.” Just in case of what, Jen wonders but doesn’t ask. No matter. No answer will make her think differently of you. “I’ll leave the remote on the bed. You can rent anything you want. I’ll bring you a snack and something to drink.” “You don’t have to do that,” your partner responds. “I’m the host,” Jen says and stands up, smoothing out her dress and reaching over to turn the tap on. “Here,” she adds and holds out a hand. Your partner hands her the dirty diaper you made, and Jen is surprised by its weight but doesn’t say anything. You try to put the thought of her carrying that thing through the kitchen where anyone, and probably more than a few someones, can see it out of your head. “See you in a bit,” your partner says. Jen leaves, and your partner helps you sit up and step into tub. She turns off the tap with just a few inches of warm water in the tub. “Lean against the back like at home,” she says even though you know the routine, a seemingly once-a-week affair since going back to diapers as once a week, give or take, you’ve needed a change wipes alone were not enough for. She stands, takes off her gloves and puts them in a ziploc bag. You watch as she takes off her little black dress and hangs it next to your shirt on the back of the door before rolling down her stockings and doing the same with them. In just her satin bra and panty set, she turns her attention back to you. When you’re clean and the water has been changed twice, she fills the tub almost to the top and tells you to lean back and relax while she runs a bar of soap from your neck to the soles of your feet once more. She chuckles. “What,” you ask. “You’re going into your jammies after we get a clean diaper on you. No way are you coming back downstairs, are you?” You frown and look down. “It’s okay. I’m not mad or anything. I just know when you look sleepy.” “Sorry I spoiled the evening.” She stops washing you and takes her chin in her hand to turn your face to hers. “Hey, you did not spoil the evening because the evening isn’t spoiled. We’re together, aren’t we?” “Yeah.” “Then I’m having a great time. Believe me?” You do, and you nod hurriedly as your eyes fill with tears again. “I’m sorry,” you manage to say as you let out a sob. “Don’t. Be. Sorry,” she says with her gentle firmness. “Not for crying. Not for your accidents. Not for needing diapers. Not for needing my help. Not because of the party. Don’t be sorry for any of it.” “Okay,” you say as the swell of emotion rises in your throat that do your best to choke back down as you try to let her words and kindness soothe you. She kisses you on your temple, wets a clean washcloth, and dabs at the few tears that escaped your eyes. “I love you,” she says and means it in every way. “I love you so much too.” “I know.” She reaches over and opens the drain. When you’re diapered and in your jammies, she sends you into the bedroom while she gets everything packed away and puts her dress and shoes back on. “Where are your stockings,” you ask when she joins you. “In the bag with your shirt and shoes. Maybe someone will notice and think you seduced me and that we’ve been up her getting’ busy this whole time.” You have a good laugh with her. “Are you okay with me going back downstairs?” “Yeah, really.” “Need anything,” she asks, nodding toward the plate of hors d’oeuvre and desserts Jen left on her nightstand for you next to a glass of water and your favorite cocktail. “No, thank you.” “Blanket,” she asks and starts to unfold the throw Jen keeps at the foot of her bed. “I can do it myself.” She smiles, chagrinned. “I know.” She turns back to you and kisses you on the forehead again. “I’ll be up to check on you.” “You don’t need to.” She makes a tight smile, an expression she often wears when you tell her something isn’t necessary right before she repeats herself in a gentle yes-but-we’re-doing-it-anyway tone. “I’ll be up to check on you. Text me if you need anything.” “‘Kay.” “And I’ll be back before the ball drops. You owe me a New Year’s kiss.” “Wake me up if I’m asleep. I don’t wanna miss it.” “Deal.” She kisses you on your forehead again. You’re asleep every time she, once with Jen, comes up to check on you. True to her word like she always is, she wakes you to share the perfect New Year’s kiss. Happy New Year and don’t forget to check out my 2022 bedwetting calendar for ABDLs, recreational bedwetters, and their caregviers for sale now on Lulu.com!

A Christmas Special As a gift to my many readers, I'm making this available here without delay. If you've enjoyed my work over the past year and wish to say thank you, you can subscribe to my Patreon or leave a tip there. This is a sequel to A Thanksgiving Special, available wherever the best diaper stories are found (like here and here). Check out the original story or dive on in. ­­ Purely by coincidence, it was one day short of a month since your life had changed, Thanksgiving falling on November 25th and today being December 24th. You had lain wondering how many years in a hundred it works out that Thanksgiving and Christmas both fall on the 25th of their respective months while your partner changed you into a fresh diaper. You had been mad at her for all of ten minutes the first time, when she had ambushed you with a diaper as you were about to get dressed for Thanksgiving dinner at her parents’ house, confronting you about the rising frequency of your accidents and reminding you in detail about the prior Thanksgiving when you bottomed out your undies before you’d even finished your pumpkin pie. You couldn’t help but admit it made sense though, and when your partner told you on Black Friday, as you were about to get dressed to go shopping, that your change of attire wasn’t just for one night but permanent until you didn’t need diapers anymore, the experience of the previous night kept you from a more than a pro forma protest; that and the look in her eyes that told you this wasn’t negotiable and that she’d take the hairbrush to your bare bottom, a rarity but not unheard of, if you refused. And so you went from being someone who had accidents in their pants to someone who uses diapers. “If it happens in a diaper,” she told you more than once until you stopped apologizing every time it happened, “it’s not an accident.” You had to admit that made sense. After all, like she pointed out, that’s what diapers are for, so how could it be an accident? Hence the new euphemism your partner used in public: an incident, not an accident. No one in public ever seems to notice what you’re wearing, except for that one time three weeks ago you had a very big incident while waiting in line at the department store. What a frightening moment that had been, when you were waiting to check out with the cashmere sweater you were buying her for Christmas, and she was down in the men’s department shopping for you. You didn’t know what to do, the suddenness of it taking you by surprise and leaving you frozen in line. The few times you’ve had that kind of incident in public, she’s been by your side and quietly whisked you away to get you changed into clean huggies. You don’t mind that she calls them diapers instead of briefs, but it does bruise your ego a bit when she refers to them as huggies or pampers, but it’s far from a concern when you’ve, as she sometimes says, fudged your huggies and just need her help. You’ve never changed a diaper before, let alone your own, let alone such a full one as the one almost sagging around your hips that day in the mall. You didn’t even have the diaper bag with you. It wasn’t merely wearing one or even a full one but the smell that alerted the other shoppers, even though they were all wearing masks and on the “stand here” decals the store had put on the floor to keep shoppers six feet apart. The woman in front of you lifted her sleeping infant from the stroller and checked her diaper while you looked around as though you were just like the other adults and trying to find the source of the stench. But you fooled no one, nor did you notice the salesperson pick up the phone at the register and quietly say something to someone, so it came as a complete, and completely embarrassing, surprise when a store manager appeared at your elbow. She was nice about it, recognizing from your watery eyes you hadn’t done what you did for jollies and establishing as she walked you toward the escalator that you needed help. She guided you to the upper floor where the family restroom is located and assured you everything would be okay and asking only for your partner’s name before she left you standing in the middle of that restroom, wondering what was going to happen when you heard her on the public address system. Could your partner “please come to the manager’s office on the third floor behind bedding to meet your partner?” The entire time between the checkout line and being left in the restroom was a blur, and it was only after your partner had changed you into a clean diaper and held you while you let out a few tears did you realize you no longer had that sweater. The manager was waiting for you at the end of the hall, asking as though nothing unusual had happened whether you still wanted to check out. The manager struck you as unusually empathetic, guessing the sweater was a gift for your partner and taking you into her office to complete the purchase. She even gave you a certificate for free wrapping at the customer service desk. That fit with what you noticed your first night back in diapers. Your partner had preemptively told her family, taking away the chance of a surprise discovery, and they had all treated you especially gently. Not even the kids snickered. Your father-in-law even called you ‘tiger.’ But that was her family. Thanksgiving with her family, Christmas Eve with yours, and when you come out of the shower on Christmas Eve, she has an outfit waiting for you on the bed. You’ve always been equal partners even if she does take you over her knee a few times a year to correct your behavior, but ever since she’s declared by fiat that you are back in diapers indefinitely, she’s taken charge of a few things, inconsequential things in the scheme of it but all things that make you feel sometimes like a second-tier adult: your hygiene, your clothes, your diet, your sleep schedule, and of course anything having to do with relieving yourself. “I’m going to go change,” you announced when you’d returned from the Black Friday shopping trip. “Are you wet,” she asked. “No.” “Lemme check.” “I’m not wet,” you insisted in a childishly petulant tone that just came out. You didn’t speak that way to anyone, and especially not to her, the love of your life. “Then hold still and lemme check,” she said firmly as she took you by the elbow and cupped you through your pants. Not satisfied, she unbuckled your belt and slipped her hand down your pants while you stood there trying to resist the desire to push her hands away and reassert your own authority over your body. You were dry, and you knew it. To be fair to her, you don’t always know when you aren’t, and that was true even before she put you back in diapers. She didn’t acknowledge you were dry beyond buckling your belt again and giving you a soft smile. You were briefly taken aback, almost offended, when she didn’t congratulate you or tell you good job. She did that just two days ago when you went almost an entire day without an accident. But underpants are to be kept dry, and keeping them dry deserves at least a verbal reward. Diapers aren’t supposed to be kept dry; using them shouldn’t provoke a scolding, but by the same token, not using them doesn’t deserve encouragement. After all, it’s only a matter of time. You didn’t know that at the time, the full weight and meaning of this change very slowly becoming clear over the course of the past month. On Black Friday, you just knew that you were dry and wanted to go change into your regular clothes. “So I’m going to go change,” you said again as she turned away from you after buckling your belt and started sorting through the shopping bags. “Why? You’re dry,” she said as she searched for something particular in one of them. “Um, because we’re home, so … I’m going to go put underpants on.” That caught her attention again. She straightened up and turned back toward you, her expression very like the one she’d worn when she announced you were wearing diapers to her parents’ house the night before, kind but resolved. “Honey, you wear diapers full-time now, even at home.” “But the bathroom is right there,” you said in more of a whine than you intended. “Please don’t use that tone with me. You have accidents at home too. You’re in diapers now.” “But … I don’t want to.” As an adult, that actually is a valid argument, and you knew that. You are an adult; not wanting to do something is a very good reason for not doing it provided you’re not harming anyone else and are willing to accept the consequences. “I understand that, sweetie, but it’s not up to you.” “Yes it is too,” you shot back, raising your voice, again without meaning to, an outburst that did nothing to make you seem like an adult but did plenty to make you sound like a child on the verge of a tantrum. Your partner wouldn’t be having that, and faster than your reflexes could respond, she had your wrist in her left hand and her right delivered two sharp spanks to the seat of your pants. “Do you need more,” she asked with her hand poised. You tried to cover your butt with your free hand, but you knew from experience that wouldn’t stop anything. “No!” “Because if you need more, it will be on your bare bottom.” “No, I’ll be good,” you promised. “Come with me,” she said and led you to the sofa in the living room. “But I said I’d be good,” you pleaded as she sat down. You only ever try to get out of a spanking verbally, not that it’s ever worked even once. You never run away or fight back, not really. Just trying to bat her hands away when she takes your pants down or feebly attempting to block the spanks or kick your way off her lap. “I’m not spanking you. Sit down.” And you did, quite aware that if you acted up, she was fully capable of changing her mind and pulling you across her lap. “I’m sorry I wasn’t clear this morning. You’re in diapers all the time everywhere, until you stop needing them.” “Even at home?” “You have more accidents here than anywhere else.” “But … But that’s only because I’m here more than anywhere else.” Which upon just a half-moment’s consideration you realized isn’t an argument in favor of underpants. She must not have thought so either because she didn’t even bother to counter it, merely saying again, “You’re in diapers until you don’t need them anymore.” “But I’m an adult.” “An adult who needs diapers. You’ll be much happier this way; we both will. No more stained undies or ruined pants or wet furniture. No more public accidents.” “People will find out.” “They might find out, but they definitely will find out if they see you flood your pants or have a brown out in your shorts.” “Can we just try them for a while,” you ventured, searching for a compromise and fairly certain you could find ways to sabotage a trial period. “We’ve tried lots of things, and the doctors are out of ways to help you. It’s diapers from now on.” You knew you were not going to change her mind. “But just until I don’t need them anymore, right?” “Right,” she said back with a tone that struck you as being similar to the tone one uses when telling a child that Santa might bring that toy that’s way too expensive: upbeat but insincere because like that parent, she knows it will never happen and can neither break your heart with the truth nor lie straight to your face without betraying a hint of her true thoughts. But like that child, you wanted to believe, so you said, “Okay, until then,” and she reached out to embrace you while you cried into her breast. All to say you aren’t surprised when you find her waiting in the bedroom for you to finish your shower, with your outfit laid out on the bed, so complete with a diaper. Diapers are part of your outfit now as surely as underpants used to be. And because she took charge of your outfit on Thanksgiving and had taken the great liberty of informing her family, you opt to not say anything about it to your own family. She would do it if she thought it was necessary, and you trust her. A good excuse since you’re too embarrassed to tell anyone. Once you arrive at your childhood home, it doesn’t take long for you to understand from the way people are treating you with kid gloves that she has, in fact, told them. Your dad calls you sport. Your mom keeps placing her hand on your lower back and discreetly, although from whom she’s trying to hide the motion you aren’t sure, sliding her hand down your waist. It doesn’t make any sense that she keeps doing that. As much as you try to take no responsibility for your diapers, figuring that if your partner is the one insisting on them then she can be the one to do all the work they create (with you doing your best to not see how that makes you seem even more in need of her doting care), even you know she can’t tell if you need changed just by putting her hand on the very top of your diaper’s back waistband. Your big sister solves that mystery by being much less discreet, merely putting herself between you and the center of the living room as she turns you around, the sudden shock leaving you wordless and cooperative as she grasps the waistband of your pants in one hand and tucks your undershirt in with her other. “Your Christmas sweater keeps riding up, kiddo. Everyone can see your diaper,” she says above a whisper but hopefully not loudly enough for others to hear, though they likely saw or at least surmised. And when she gives you a pat on the butt and you almost swallow your tongue, you lock eyes with her daughter, all of five years old, who smiles at you as if she knows how delicate your feelings are. “Honey,” your partner calls from across the room not long thereafter, “my parents are about to facetime me. Come say hello.” A glance around the room as you cross the rug and followed her up the stairs makes you suspicious as to whether anyone believed her excuse, because you don’t believe it and find you are right not to as you follow her to your childhood bedroom where she has already prepared a diaper change. “I wanted to get you into something dry before we open presents,” she explains. A day shy of a month, four changes a day, and you are well practiced in the routine. She is already kneeling on the floor as you approach her, and she unbuckles your belt and slides your pants down. “Actually,” she said, pausing, “let’s take them all the way off for this one. Lift your foot.” She takes your shoes off, then your pants, and you gingerly lay down on the changing mat, a habit from never being entirely sure there isn’t a small mess in the seat of your diaper but knowing as occasional as that is, it’s often enough to have taught you sitting straight down can make a change much longer. “Hold your sweater,” she says gently as she pushes it up and away from the top of your diaper. She always uses a gentle tone when she changes you, except when she’s trying to cheer you up or is in a silly mood. You always do your best to pretend you don’t like it, but you can never hold in your laughter when she blows a raspberry on your tummy during a change. “Not so bad after all,” she said the first time she changed one of your dirty diapers, “right? Isn’t this better than having accidents in your pants?” “Yes,” you’d agreed, and while you meant it, you weren’t happy about it and let that emotion show, so she bent forward and blew a raspberry on your tummy and did it again while you laughed, and she tickled your sides and somehow kept you from rolling away as you giggled and pleaded through tears of laughter for her to top. On Christmas Eve, she puts her hand on the bottom of your diaper as you lay on your back looking at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling since you were a little kid. She bends forward and gives your diaper two investigative sniffs. “You’re a little messy,” she pronounces you. The first few times she discovered you were messy after she’d opened your diaper, she’d asked you if you knew you had stinky pants or remembered doing it, but she doesn’t ask anymore, nor did she ever ask if you’d been doing that before going back into diapers, making very small messes without knowing it. She figures it didn’t matter either way. Worst case, the diapers are making your problem worse, but since she never expects you to be out of diapers, it makes no difference. “Are you having a good time,” she asks as she plucks a few wipes from the packet and sets them next to you. She always does that before she opens your diaper, getting everything ready to make the change as quick as possible and, sometimes, to do everything she can to make sure nothing gets dirty or wet. “Yeah,” you respond. “Cuz you look a little mopey.” “I … everyone saw my diaper … poking above my pants.” “So? Anyone say anything mean?” “No.” “Anyone care?” “I don’t know. If they did, they didn’t show it.” “No one cares,” she assures you. “No one thinks less of you.” “How do you know,” you say sharply. You trust her to take care of all this because you love her and do trust her, but also because you need to trust her because there’s no one else to trust. But sometimes it doesn’t always seem like she understands that she can’t understand what this is like for you. She drops the rubber glove she was about to put on and gets back up on her knees, planting her hands on either side of you, straddling you like she does when she wants to make love, trapping you underneath her as though you’d ever want to leave the protection of her arms and looking down into your eyes while you look up into hers. “I love you,” she says, “and so does every person here.” She leans down and kisses you. “I love you even more every day.” She smiles at you again, and you feel a swell of emotion. “Uh-oh,” she said, “I know that face.” She sits down at your side, and you sit up just enough to bury your face in her lap. “It’s okay,” she coos. Ever since the accidents started, you’ve become more emotional, more prone to tears, and the diapers have only made you more so. You cry more often but rarely for long, and this time like every time she strokes your hair and rubs your back and shushes you until you pick your head up. “All done?” You nod, and she reaches across you to the wipes she plucked from the packet and wipes the tear streaks from your cheeks. “Sorry,” you apologize. “Never be sorry because you have to cry.” “I love you too.” “I know you do, sweetheart.” She kisses you on your hair. “Ready to lay back so we can get this yucky diapie off you and go open presents?” You do, and she finishes putting her gloves on, something you insisted she start doing despite her insisting changing your dirty diapers doesn’t bother her. “I know it’s Christmas,” she says, “but that doesn’t mean you needed to fudge your huggies just for me.” You scoff and chuckle. “Not that I don’t appreciate the present you made me. It’s the thought that counts, right?” Normally you’d be upset if she made that joke, but the day and the circumstances and the reassurance that she still loves you – that changing your diapers doesn’t change how she feels about you – make the joke funny even to you, and in just a few minutes you’re in a fresh diaper and redressed. “Where are you taking that,” you ask when you notice her rolling the diaper up into a ball. “The trash,” she says with a quizzical look on her face as though it was a silly question. “O.” “You want to throw it away at home?” “No, I just … no. Thanks for changing me.” “You’re very welcome like always, sweetie. Let’s go open presents.” You lead the way back downstairs, and while you turn left toward the living room, she walks straight ahead and passes your younger sister, who takes note of what she’s carrying but doesn’t say anything as your partner tosses your used diaper into the trashcan. She doesn’t push it deep into the trash, just setting it on top and letting the lid close. What’s there to hide? Nothing. Your little sister catches up with you and puts her hands on your shoulders, leaning forward to whisper into your ear, “You’re the luckiest person I know,” before she too gives you a light swat on your butt. Both sisters and your mom and your partner’s mom have now all casually done that, and while you think you should feel offended, you don’t. In a way you don’t understand and you can’t express, it feels good, and you know you’ve done the same to your nieces and nephews still in diapers and don’t know why, as though a diapered bottom needs to be patted for some mysterious, irresistible reason. Your partner joins you in the living room, and the two of you sit down on the floor together to open presents and enjoy watching everyone else open theirs. You try hard every year to find at least one gift you’re excited to give, and this year you found several. It warms you to see people so delighted with your gifts. As it always does, the hour it takes to open all the gifts seems over too soon. You help gather up all the stray paper, and you dad asks rhetorically, “Who’s ready for dessert?” “We’ll be down in a minute,” your partner responds. “I don’t need changed yet,” you whisper as she takes your hand. “I know,” she says and lead you back to your childhood bedroom anyway. “What,” you ask behind closed doors, eager to get your share and more of the dessert your mom only makes for Christmas. “It’s getting late, and I want to go straight to bed when we get home.” “Okay,” you respond, unsure why she brought you upstairs to tell you that. “So let’s get your jammies on.” That’s why the diaper bag seemed fuller than usual. There’s been an extra outfit in the back of the car for years, frequently needed and frequently needing to be replaced. For the past month, an extra pair of pants have been in the diaper bag for any trip away from home for more than two hours, but never an entire outfit. You just assumed that was what was in the bag because you never go in there unless she asks you to get something. It’s not because you're not allowed to but because you don’t want to. You had been upset with her only very briefly when she insisted you go back to diapers; it isn’t pique that keeps you out of the diaper bag. It’s acceptance. She’s in charge of the diapers, so there’s no reason for you to go into the diaper bag. “Jammies,” you say incredulously. She’s been on you about your sleep schedule since you were first dating, and you’d reluctantly complied over time, realizing she was right and you do feel so much better when you go to bed at her version of ‘on time.’ “Yes, jammies, silly goose. You always sleep in pajamas.” “Everyone will see.” “See you in your jammies? What’s the problem?” “I just …” It’s not being seen in your pajamas, though they do make your diapers much more obvious. It’s that no one else is in their pajamas. It will make you seem more childish. Even if the diapers are a necessity and everyone understands that, they’ll be a lot less understanding of your partner insisting you get dressed for bed before you’re even home as though you’ll fall asleep in the case and she’ll carry your sleeping body to bed. “Yes,” she says, waiting for you to finish your sentence. “I don’t want people to see me in my pajamas.” “Siena saw you in them last week.” Her best friend. “That was different. We were home, and it was late, and I was about to go to bed.” And you had put on your own pajamas. Does she mean to actually dress you for bed? “And this doesn’t even save any time. It takes less than a minute to get my pajamas on, and anyway,” you sigh, “you’re going to have to change me for bedtime anyway.” Probably, given the hour, but maybe not. Christmas miracles do happen, right? Just as she is about to respond, there’s a knock at the door. “Can I come in,” your mom asks even as she’s in the act of opening the door neither of you had locked. “Um, yeah,” you say since it’s too late and you’re still dressed. “Are you changing into your PJs,” she asks as she closes the door behind her. “Just about to,” your partner replies as though you weren’t on the edge of a disagreement on that very subject. “I figured. I always brought their jammies to my parents’ house on Christmas Eve so they could go straight to bed when I got them home. I got something for you.” “More presents,” your partner asks as you stand there unsure whether you speaking up will make any difference. “Just a couple gifts I thought you’d like to open without everyone watching, but I want to see you open them. I made them myself.” It’s a large box. “That’s so nice of you.” “Um, really nice, Mom.” “Well, come sit, silly,” she says as you stand in front of her. You sit down on the bed next to her, oblivious to the crinkle from the mattress when you do. You long ago grew so used to it that you don’t notice it anymore. “It’s not much. I had the idea when I saw you two for lunch two weeks ago.” “Don’t be so modest,” your partner says as you turn the box over and slide your finger under the seam to break the tape. “You didn’t have to go to so much trouble,” you tell her. She’s always gone out of her way to make each Christmas special, and every year of your adult life, you’ve been profuse in your thanks, understanding in a way you didn’t as a child how much work and love she pours into the holiday. You open the box to find several pieces of clothing, and you hold the first one up. “A onesie,” your partner practically exclaims as you examine the shirt. “At lunch I kept seeing your diaper poking out above your pants every time you moved. It’s been doing it all night, too, and it was just driving me crazy. I thought this would be perfect for that, and that you’d feel better knowing no one will see your diapers when you bend over.” Your partner lets out a chuckle. “Um …,” you say before finding your voice, “thank you. I … Thank you. That will help a lot.” And you mean it. Childish, yes, but also practical, and you know it comes from the heart. “Really? You really like it,” your mom asks. “I love it.” “O thank goodness. I was so nervous. I was afraid you’d be upset with me.” “What? Never. I know you’re just thinking of me. I really appreciate this. It’s a great idea.” “There’s a few in different colors and few plain white ones, and I made one just for Christmas.” She takes the box off your lap and digs through the folded diaper shirts until she finds the one she’s looking for: green and white stripes with red piping along the sleeves and neckline, with a reindeer applique in the center of the chest. “Well,” she asks with a beaming smile. “Did you do this needlework by hand,” your partner marvels at the reindeer. “Yep, and I can teach you. I have the pattern, so we can make more.” “That would be great.” “We can make other things too,” your mom explains. “If we have a pattern, we just need to change the measurements to fit. I’ll show you.” “I’d like that.” “There’s one more thing in the box,” your mom says excitedly. “And I know this isn’t exactly cool, but I know you like to be warm.” She’s rambling now. “And it’s okay if you don’t like it. Really. You won’t hurt my feelings. It’s not to everyone’s …” “Mom,” you interrupt, “I’m sure I’ll like it.” You put your hand on top of hers, and she looks back at you with a warm Christmas smile before she starts taking the onesies out of the box and laying them on the bed. “It’s on the bottom,” she apologizes. “Here,” and with that she lifts a footed sleeper out of the box by its shoulders. The one she used for a pattern was for a toddler, and the zipper on that one was in the back, so she made one in your size with the zipper on the back too, not thinking you wouldn’t be able to get it on and off without help. “O my goodness, that is so cute,” your partner gushes. “Wow,” is your clever response. “That will definitely be warm.” “You like it?” “Yes.” “You really like it?” “Really,” you try to convince her but aren’t entirely sincere. What matters is she made it, so of course you like it. Love it even. But perhaps won’t like actually wearing it. “O, that makes me so happy.” She leans forward to hug you, and you hug back. “I just want Christmas to be perfect for everyone.” “I know. You always do such a good job,” you say and rub her back. When she leans away, you get a better look at the sleeper. The pattern is the same as the Christmas onesie, except the sleeper also has a reindeer tail. Snaps extend across the crotch and down both legs, at the end of which are soft-soled slippers below an elastic ankle cuff. “Try it on,” she urges you. “Um …” “Tomorrow,” your partner interjects. “When we come back for Christmas morning. In fact, I’ll wear my pajamas too.” “We all will,” your mom agrees. Her, your dad, your younger sister, you, and your partner. Your older sister will be opening gifts with her own family, and in the afternoon, you’ll head over to spend the evening with your partner’s family. “But we can try on the onesie right now,” your partner decides. You turn to look at her over your shoulder, and the look she gives back says yes, you will too. It’s not so much that you don’t want to argue in front of your mother as you don’t want to risk hurting your mom’s feelings, so you nod. “Of course,” you say. “I can’t wait to see you in it,” your mom says. “Lay back.” “What?” “Lay back, sweetie.” “We were just about to …” you say. “O, don’t be so silly,” your mom says as she bends down to pluck the diaper bag from the floor. “I did this every night when you were a kid.” You look at your partner for support, and she shrugs. “That was one of your birthday presents one year, remember,” your mom says because she’s a mom and is oblivious to when she’s embarrassing you. She turns back toward you and puts a hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you back. “Lay back. It’s okay.” You do, and she starts taking out everything she needs for a diaper change. “What birthday was that,” she asks absentmindedly. “Do you remember? You said all you wanted was to be allowed to put your nighttime diapers on yourself. It had to be after thirteen or I never would’ve let you. Of course that’s not all we got you, but I did give in and just checked that you did a good job before you went to sleep. Remember?” You’re blushing, and your partner is doing a poor job of suppressing a smile. “Did you know they make diapers for adults with cute designs on them,” your mother asks. “I saw them online when I was doing some searching for onesie patterns. Not that you’d like those probably, but they are cute, and the reviews say they work very well. People are in such a fuss that this new one is only available in Japan right now; it is adorable, but people just need to be patient. It’ll get here.” She spots the packet of rubber gloves and pauses, understanding what they’re for and turning her attention back to you as she puts an empathatic hand on your thigh. Her eyes tell you she’s sorry you have to deal with this, and she keeps her hand there as she turns toward your partner. “I’m so glad the two of you have each other.” She turns back to you. “I couldn’t have picked a better partner for you.” A tear once again appears at the corner of your eye. “Hhh,” your mom pretends to gasp, “you always were mommy’s little crybaby.” She leans down to kiss you on the cheek. “Everything is going to be okay because you two have each other, and of course I’ll always be your mommy. That’s just how it works.” She sounds almost choked up herself. “Anyway, we’re holding up dessert,” she says and clears her throat. “You’re making everyone wait,” you ask as though that’s the nicest thing she could do for you in the moment. “Of course. I know you look forward all year to my Christmas cake.” “Here,” your partner says, “lemme help.” She gets your shoes and socks off, and wanting to not seem completely helpless, you begin to unbuckle your belt. Your mom bats your hands away, and with nothing to do until she tells you to lift your hips, you have a moment to consider why you’re allowing this to happen. You turn your head to look away, and with your ear to the mattress you hear the crinkle of the plastic sheet under the bedclothes. You know exactly why. It’s embarrassing but not mortifying – not what you're wearing nor why nor that your mother is about to see your nudity – because the two of you have done this many times before. She did let you put on your own bedtime diaper when you pleaded for your fifteenth birthday. Not that it was the last time your mother did this as she sometimes insisted when you were under the weather or just very tired right up until you dried up at night towards the end of your senior year. You knew you must’ve been the only senior who had to wear a pull-up on that right-of-passage road trip with your parents to visit colleges. How relieved you were to be dry by the time you filled out your residency form, thrilled to be able to leave off any reason why you couldn’t share a room with someone else and have a regular college experience. Your problem got better for a number of years before beginning to get worse than it had ever been, leaving you in the position you find yourself now. And that fifteenth birthday wasn’t so long ago in the scheme of things, and even less time from your mother’s perspective. For you it’s half a lifetime, but for her it’s yesterday because that’s how time works for moms. “Just wet,” your mother announces when your pants are off. “Usually,” your partner says, “but sometimes there’s a little present in there waiting for you. There was earlier.” Whether the last time your mom changed you was recent or not, that was embarrassing, but saying so would only be more childish than what was already happening, so you don’t say anything. “So how has it been going,” your mom asks as she tears the tapes open on your diaper, and you know the question is directed at your partner and not you. “We’ve both adjusted and gotten used to it. We had some hiccups early on, and there was a blowout at the mall …” “O goodness. I’m sorry to hear that.” But not as sorry as you were to endure it. “…but you live and learn.” “And then get Luvs,” your mom finishes with a chuckle as she wipes down your diaper area. “Ha! It’s the social aspect we’re still working on. Just a couple friends know so far.” “Your friends won’t care, sweetie,” your mom tells you, “And if they do, then they’re not your real friends.” Which is such a mom thing to say, and you manage to not roll your eyes. “I brought a nighttime one,” your partner says as she gets the right diaper out of the bag. “Goodness,” your mom says again, the closest the woman has ever come to a cuss word in your presence. “I wish they’d made them this thick when you were younger. I had to double diaper and get some plastic panties so we wouldn’t have leaks more nights than not.” “Plastic panties,” your partner asks. “You don’t know about those?” “Still new to this.” “Such a lifesaver, and with the mush tush accidents they’d help hold the smell in.” “We don’t call them accidents anymore. If it happens in undies, it’s an accident, but diapers are supposed to be used, so these are incidents.” “That’s very sweet,” your mom says, casting a grateful look at your partner, glad she’s so understanding and doing so much to help you through this adjustment. “Anyway, if there’s a dirty diaper incident,” she says, stressing the word, “in public, plastic panties would maybe save some embarrassment. Nothing quite as unpleasant as everyone smelling you have a poopy diaper, is there sweetie?” Now you’re not sure what’s worse: being included or excluded from this conversation. “All done,” your mom announces as she seals the last tape on your diaper. “You look kind of cute in your diapie, just like you used to.” “What do you say,” your partner asks. “Uh, thanks, Mom.” “You’re very welcome. Just a mom’s job … Ope, and a partner’s if needed.” She takes your hands and helps you sit up. “Stick ‘em up.” You do, and she helps you take your Christmas sweater and undershirt off while your partner unsnaps the Christmas onesie and rolls it up in her hands. “Keep ‘em there, buster,” she says, and your mom pivots out of the way, rolling up your used diapers and repacking your diaper bag while your partner slips the onesie over your head and helps you get your arms through the sleeves. She hasn’t been helping you dress until tonight, and it doesn’t occur to you to wonder whether you should expect more of that treatment. Your mother hands her the pajama pants from the diaper bag and folds your actual pants to put in the diaper bag. You reach for the pajamas, but your partner holds them back. “Not yet. We haven’t seen yet. Stand up.” You do, and your partner leans down and reaches between your legs to find the back flap of the onesie, her forearm pressing firmly into the front of your diaper as she does. A tap on the inside of your thigh tells you to open your legs for her, and as you glance down and back up, feeling self-conscious again, she closes the five snaps. “Let’s show your mom,” your partner says as she straightens up and turns you toward your mother, who is zipping up the diaper bag and turns to see at the same time. “O, it’s perfect,” your mom says. “You look so cute.” She steps toward you gives you another hug, and you don’t jump this time when she reaches down to pat your diapered bottom, not just once this time but six times in rapid succession as she practically beams with pride, of her handiwork of or of you, you’re not sure, but it’s for you. She’s always proud of you. She leans back again, keeping her hands on your shoulders. “Does it feel alright?” “Yes,” you say as you nod quickly. “And you really like it?” “Yes, Mom, I do. Thank you again.” This time you initiate a hug, and it’s your mom who has teary eyes. “I’m so glad. I just want to help. It’s hard seeing your baby go through things like this.” “We appreciate any help you offer,” your partner reassures her. “Ready for pants,” she asks you. She holds open your pajama pants, and you step into them. “I need bigger ones,” you say absentmindedly, something you’ve said several times over the past month. They fit too snugly around your bedtime diapers. “We’ll see what Santa brought in the morning,” your partner says as she puts warm socks on your feet because they always get cold at night. “I really have to go down there like this?” “You can wear your new sleeper.” “Honey,” your mom says, “everyone here loves you. No one would dream of making fun of you, and if they do, they’ll have to answer to me.” She always was protective when it came to making sure no one made fun of you for your problem. “That’s what I said,” your partner chimes in. “You ready for cake,” your mom asks. She opens the door, and your big sister walks by with your five-year-old niece in her arms. The little tyke is also wearing her jammies so she can go straight to bed when she gets home. She’s already almost asleep in her mom’s arms. You all head downstairs, and you get complimented on your new ‘shirt,’ and everyone congratulates your mom for doing such a good job on it. Not a word is said about your diaper bulge or the two diapers, one dirty, in the kitchen trash. You’re almost ready to fall asleep when you get in the car for the ride home, and though you’re a little damp when by the time she steers you to the bedside, your partner yawns as she says, “You’ll last til morning.” And in the morning, you’ll wake up and open presents at home with her before heading back to your parents’ house for yet more presents, this time wearing your new sleeper, and who knows, maybe some of those cute diapers your mom mentioned will be waiting under the tree. Maybe you’ll have a dirty diaper while opening presents – you usually do that time of morning – and it will go unremarked while you all finish opening because some things are more important than getting you into clean pants right away, like Christmas and presents and family. Maybe your partner will change you, maybe your mom, or maybe even your little sister, just two years younger than you but still living at home. It wouldn’t be the first time, and after all, your partner already packs a box of changing supplies to leave at your parents’ house. But no matter. Whatever happens, it will be fine, and so will you. That knowledge and the sense of peace it creates in your heart is the best Christmas present you could hope for. You can read Alex’s extensive library of sweet and kinky ABDL fiction on Patreon, Amazon, and SubscribeStar.

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

"My, oh my, what a long time it has been!" a voice rang out in the pure-white void. A familiar figure in a suit began to materialize. They wore a nice, black dress suit with white gloves. Their long, untidy hair was tied behind their head and hid behind a white mask with a simple smiley face. Their body was tall and slim, while their voice was soft and elegant. "I sure hope you all missed me just as much as I missed you!" The face on their mask changed to show off their emotions and expressions. ( ͡❛ ͜ʖ ͡❛) "With it being so long, why not play some more games? But first, let's get some things ready." With a snap of their fingers, the void changed and shifted to become a vast open field with trees and hills dotting the land. "With that all set, let's call on our baby players to play fun games!" ( ͡ᵔ ω ͡ᵔ) With a wave of their hand, 13 players appeared onto the field. The 13 of them blinked and looked around, wondering where they were. What was going on? Before any of them could start freaking out, The Host snapped their fingers. Visions of the first Diaper Lover Games flashed through their minds, showing them all what was happening to them and explaining the basics. All of the babies will play games. The winner(s) of the games will be safe from elimination. This time, the players will vote off a baby. This place is outside time and space. When the babies leave, they will be sent back to the exact moment they left. Memories of the games will be fuzzy and remembered as just a daydream. The winner of the games will be allowed one wish! "Now that the babies are up to speed, let's introduce them all! ( ͡^ ω ͡^) First up was a tall, blond woman. "Hi, my name is Julia Belle. I wish I could say this was the first time I was kidnapped, forced to participate in some kind of divine game, and forced into diapers as a consequence..." She gave a nervous laugh. The second was a curvy, little brown-haired girl wearing a giant diaper. "My name is Crissie. I'm 26 years old, and I live in a pocket dimension nursery controlled by Master!" she said, smiling cutely, "As a switch, I have a slight edge over my more submissive opponents while still maintaining my sweet CrissieBaby persona. Watch out, cuz Big Sis Criss is here to win!" She waved to the camera and blew a kiss. Third "Hi, I'm April! I'm 18, and I have no idea why I'm here, but it sounds so exciting! I haven't worn diapers since my "daddy" tied me up!" she said with a big smile and her tongue sticking out. April was a blonde 5'6" woman who wore a neon pink bunny hoodie. The diaper she was given had a neon pink bunny on the front and a fake tail poking out the back. Fourth "Heya! I'm Mesae! I'm 22. Hope you guys have fun, 'cause I know I will!” Mesa was a 5'0 Pinkett alien with green-ish skin and one long antenna. She wore a tube top and a space-themed diaper. Fifth was a perplexed, petite woman with curly, copper-brown hair wearing a white dress. "Hi, I'm Gen, and I'm...um...27! I'm confused about why I'm surrounded by adults, let alone big ones in diapers!" she commented, not yet realizing that she was now wearing a boxy diaper with a bumblebee on the back. Sixth "Hey, I'm Jay! Please, no autographs. I know I'm famous and all that, but let's act like I'm just like you all." Jay was a 5'7 girl who was 17. She was wearing an oversized green hoodie with her Princess Rearz peeking out as if she was trying to be less obvious about them. Seventh was a woman in a space suit. "Hi, I'm Emma. This is not how I thought my day would go, but I still need to adapt and survive. Y'all might want to get on my good side before you go against me, just a fair warning." Underneath her space suit was a diaper with a spaceship in the front. Eighth was a cute shark girl. "Hi, my name is Ally. I'm from the South Pacific Ocean. But I'm currently residing in the Zoo, AGAINST MY WIL-" The Host interrupted, "DL Games is a proud sponsor of all zoos!" ( ͡~ ω ͡°) Ally dropped what she was originally going to say. "...I'm excited to get out there and win!" She whispered off-screen, "Don't forget to check out my streams…" She forced a smile and a big thumbs up, her ocean-themed diaper in plain view. Ninth "A wish, huh? I could get even with Crissie for sending me that genie," a short girl mumbled to herself before shooting up and smiling as if there was a camera on her. "Hi! I am Jane, and if it involves competition, you can count me in!" Jane stomped her foot forward in triumph when she realized she was clad in only her pink bunny onesie and a very thick diaper. She hoped the blush rising up her neck wasn't too noticeable. The tenth was an athletic-looking woman with large breasts and a diaper just as large. "Hello, everyone. I'm Lightning, an explorer and the apparent best friend of a magical diaper-loving genie. I don't know why I'm here, what we're doing or who these people are, but one thing I do know is that I will win!" Lightning smirked. "I've been exploring temples and beating dangerous traps for years. Defeating a bunch of babies will be a walk in the park." The eleventh was a curious one. "Umm, hi? I'm Ivy. One of my best friends calls me Vy. I haven't seen her in a long time. She was another part of me. But I made a new friend recently!” "Hewwo, I'm a wittle baby," Ivy said to herself as her other personality took over for a moment. She blushed and smirked at herself oddly. Ivy Peal is a 29-year-old with multiple personality disorder. In her head, Vy and whoever this other person was were two different people. They seemed to be the more baby-like side of her, mostly to embarrass her. She continued to argue back-and-forth with herself. Twelfth was a young girl wearing a white-and-blue Japanese schoolgirl uniform and a matching diaper. Hio! I am Momo! I am 18, and I have no idea why I am here, but it sounds exciting! I love everything that’s cuteee! Cute plushies, cute pacifiers, cute milk bottles, cute ribbons, cute dresses, Bunnyhopps & Bambino diapers. Also, I am a very cheerful and friendly person who loves to draw cute, sexy, and NSFW ABDL pics! And finally, the last one was a young girl with a star-shaped beauty mark on her right cheek. "It's...nice to meet you all. My name is Annabelle Woodrow, but...my close friends call me either Anna or Annie. I work as a chemist and...well...I hope we can try to get along, I guess? However, if you happen to be a vampire, stay away from me. You got that!?" ************* "Now aren't you all so adorable! A bunch of cute, little girls!" ( ͡♥ ω ͡♥) "What game are you going to play!" Crissie asked enthusiastically, wanting to get to her wish as soon as possible. "Oh, what an energetic little thing you are!" ( ͡^ ω ͡^) "Well, let's get right to it! The first game we will be playing is Capture the Flag!" The girls jumped at the sound of screaming before turning around. An enormous wave had crashed before them! A guy wearing a gray shirt and long, black hair slowly crawled out of the water, coughing and looking around. "Nathan! Hi!" April shouted, waving to him. "A-April?" Nathan said, confused as he looked over to her. "What just happened? Why was I falling? And why are you surrounded by a bunch of women in dia…." Nathans's face dropped as he had a sudden sense of deja vu. Then, he spotted The Host. ( ◭ ‿‿ ◭ ) "YOU! WHAT THE FUCK! YOU DROPPED ME ON PURPOSE! AND WHY AM I BACK HERE!" Nathan screamed as he remembered the first DL Games he was forced to join. "I don't know what you're talking about." ( ¬ ₃ ¬ ) "As for why you are here, you're only here to help me demonstrate the first game." "And if I refuse?" ( ⚈ ͜ʖ ⚈ ) "R-Right…" Nathan said as he remembered the last time he and others tried to disobey The Host. "What's the stupid game." The game is Capture the Flag. A simple game where 2 teams try to capture each other's flags. Someone must travel onto enemy territory, capture one of the flags, and bring it back to their side. The flag must be placed inside your team's goal to score a point. A few box-sized shapes appeared a ways from Nathan, and he had to go fetch one of them and bring it back to The Host. He then had to place one into a hole of the same shape. If a player is tagged on the enemy side, they go to jail. The Host touched Nathan, and he disappeared into a puff of smoke. He reappeared inside a large, tall crib and was now wearing nothing but a diaper on his lower half. "Of course this would happen…." Nathan mumbled. To get someone out of jail, someone of the same team must go to them and tag them. The Host went over and tagged Nathan, causing them both to disappear and reappear on their side. Finally, if you are holding a flag, you can still be caught and sent to jail even if you are on your side. Nathan was given another block, tagged again, and appeared inside the crib. "With the explanation out of the way, let’s say we get started!" ( ᵔ ͜ʖ ᵔ ) "Um, but we can't," Ivy said, raising up her arm. "There are 13 of us. We need one more for even teams." ( ° ͜ʖ ° ) The Host summoned a clipboard before looking over the girls and realized they made a big mistake. "Shoot, and it's too late to call someone about that. Where am I supposed to find a random baby on such short notice…" ( ¬ ᴗ ¬ ) "Oh Nathan…." Every fiber of his body wanted to scream no, but he knew better. "Fine, I’ll join your stupid game, but you owe me!" Nathan yelled at The Host before grumbling to himself about being brought back here again. “Fantastic!” ( ͡ᵔ ᴗ ͡ᵔ) “Now then. With the teams even and all the babies ready, I'll split you up into two groups and give you a few moments to talk before the game starts! With a snap, the 14 babies vanished. They reappeared in groups of 7 on opposite sides of the field beside the colored blocks. On the blue team was Ally, Lightning, Crissie, Ivy, Momo, Julia., Jane On the red team was Emma, Mesae, Jay, Gen, April, Annabelle, Nathan *********** On the red side. Nathan poked and tugged at the diaper that he was once again forced to wear. While he enjoyed diapering April every now and then, it was completely different wearing the darn thing. While he was distracted, April took the opportunity to talk to some of the other players. “Hey, how’s it going?” Jay asked Nathan as she walked up to him. Nathan looked up to her before realizing April had walked away. “Um...fine, I guess,” he responded while looking for April and calmed down when he spotted her not too far away. “Just not happy to be back here.” “Oh yeah, The Host showed us the first games. You got kicked out at the start, huh?” Jay commented and watched as Nathan let out a loud groan. “Hey, at least you get another chance at the wish.” “Nope. I'm good. I just want out of this hell hole.” Nathan told her bluntly. “Oh come on. Why don't we make a bet then?” Jay asked as Nathan eyed her suspiciously. “How about if our team wins, you stick around and take the games seriously. If we lose, you have to be the first one kicked out again.” Nathan rolled his eyes before shaking her hand, not really caring about the deal. **** Over on the blue side, most of them were coming up with a game plan. WIth others beginning to talk to each other, Julia spotted Crissie and went up to her. "First time being kidnapped by a supernatural being?" Julia asked. “Just another Tuesday for me,” Crissie said while leaning on a wall with 3 holes that the blocks would later fill. "Heh. I guess we got something in common then, huh? I wonder if it's true for the other girls, too? Is this like a common thing in every universe?" Julia wondered. “Hehe, I doubt it. We are the lucky few, huh?” "I certainly feel lucky to have met mine. She introduced me to the love of m-...err, my boyfriend." Her cheeks turned a little red. "What's your boyfriend's name?" Crissie asked curiously as a grin began to form on her face. "Lucas." “Julia and Lucas sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” Crissie sang. Julia turned a deeper shade of red. "Sh-Shut up..." Crissie hugged her close, “Hehe, is Lucas your Daddy too?” Julia was taken aback by the sudden hug. "Uhhh, I don't know if he'd say that exactly...but he does take care of me." Crissie looked at her with knowing eyes. She didn’t have to say a thing. Back to the red side. April had noticed Emma and Mesae in a conversation and wanted to talk to someone, too. She saw two of the girls looking a bit lost and decided to strike up a conversation with them. “Hi! You’re Annabelle and Gen, right?” April asked with a bright smile on her face. Both girls were a little shocked to be talked to and only mumbled or nodded yes. “Are you diaper lovers as well? I just love the feel of them!” “Y-Yes, I like diapers. A lot, actually,” Gen replied, misunderstanding the question. She loved diapers, especially on one little boy, but she didn’t wear them herself. “Not entirely,” Annabelle said. She didn’t want to bring up the fact that she needed them after nearly getting killed by a vampire. “Aww, why not? Being diapered is so fun and thrilling! Especially when my daddy does it! It’s even better when he ties me up while I'm wearing them!” April told them, overjoyed that she had some people to talk to about her diapered secrets without judgment. Gen blinked at April. Why would anyone want their parents to tie them up? Is that some type of parenting thing she missed from her book? Should she try it on Azrael? Annabelle, on the other hand, was blushing at the thought of being tied up! What if a vampire attacked and she couldn’t escape? Dark thoughts clouded her head. She needed to shake them out somehow. “So um, Gen, why were you surprised to be surrounded by adults?” Annabelle asked, trying to change the subject. “Oh, um…” Gen said as she tried to think up something. “Well, I was in a nursery taking care of a baby before I was taken here.” That was a half-truth…if you count Azrael’s bedroom as a nursery and him as a baby. The other two girls just nodded. “So you're like a nursery teacher? Well, at least you will always have a supply of diapers!” April commented. Before Gen could correct her, Nathan walked up to April. “Come on, we’ve got to get ready. The game will start any moment,” Nathan told April as he took her hand and walked away. “Bye! Hope we can talk again soon,” April said, waving. Gen and Annabelle waved back. *********** The Host appeared in the midst of the baby’s conversations, blowing a horn. "The games will now begin!" ( > ᴗ < ) The Host announced as fireworks began going off to signal the start of the DL Games! Both teams immediately started running in all directions with different plans on winning the game. Crissie was ahead of all of her teammates as she rushed to the top of a small hill to get a better view of the playing field. Not far from her, she could see the long, white line separating the teams’ sides. Off in the distance, tall flags indicated where the blocks were and where her team needed to go. To make things even better, she could see a few Red members heading her way. Crissie smirked, waiting for her prey to cross over into her field before sprinting after them. Annabelle had no time to react as she let out a shriek before she was tagged and vanished. When Annabelle opened her eyes, she was looking through the bars of a large crib, one where she could barely poke her head over. She let out a soft sigh. She was disappointed in herself for being tagged out so early. She had not yet noticed the faint hissing coming from her diaper. “Looks like little wet Annabelle hasn't noticed the jail’s hidden perk yet. Anyone sent to jail will need a change once the game is over.” ( ~ ͜ʖ ° ) ******* Mesae was more careful when she crossed over into the Blue team’s side. She hid behind the trees and looked out for anyone who could catch her. Her goal was to wait for a good opportunity to run over and grab a block. The blocks looked unguarded, but Mesae had a bad feeling about them. “Stop, you idiot!” Nathan shouted as he and April shot past Mesae and her hiding spot. They had copied what Mesae was doing, but April had grown impatient and decided to rush over to grab a block. Before April knew it, Jane sprinted from her hiding spot and tagged April out! “Shit!” Nathan shouted. He made a split-second decision to change directions and bolted toward the jail to get April out. Jane wasn't far behind him. As soon as they were gone, Mesae let out a sigh of relief before she grabbed a star-shaped block. She was glad her plan worked and began running as fast as she could to her side. ****** Back on the Red team's side, Ally was having a bit of a lucky streak. She had just barely avoided being tagged by Emma and managed to grab onto a block. Now all she had to do was get back fast! Emma wasn't going to be beaten that easily. Ally had avoided her once, but Emma was catching up! Before Ally could get back to her team's side, she was tagged and sent to jail. ****** Instead of going for the flags, Ivy had thought it was best to head to the jail first. She wasn't physically strong and knew she would be tagged quickly if she had tried to go for a block. Instead, she took the long way around and hoped that no one would be guarding the red team’s jail. Thankfully, her idea was a success as Ally appeared behind bars. Ally saw Ivy, her diaper growing warm and wet, and reached her arm through the bars for Ivy to grab. They both vanished and reappeared right in front of their base. Just in time to see Gen picking up a pentagon. “Oh doody,” Gen mumbled when she saw the two of them. Before anyone could move, red fireworks began going off. “It looks like Mesae has just earned the Red team their first point!” ( ͡> ▿ ͡<) Taking advantage of the distraction, Gen ran right past Ally and Ivy. ******** Jane was still chasing Nathan as he led them to the Blue team's jail. “HEY!” Nathan yelled upon seeing Annabelle and April inside the crib. They had been talking about how wet their diapers had gotten when they heard Nathan’s yelling. “Nathan! Save me!” April yelled playfully as she and Annabelle reached their arms out. Nathan wasn't sure if he could rescue both of them, but he decided to give it a try. “No you don’t!” Jane yelled, lunging for Nathan's back! Before she could touch him, he grabbed onto the girls’ hands, and they all disappeared. “NO!” Jane yelled in frustration as she gripped the bars of the crib, her diaper now becoming wet despite not having been tagged. ***** As soon as they reappeared, April gave Nathan a hug. “Aww, my hero saved me!” April flirted as she reveled in Nathan’s frustrated blush. While they were distracted, Annabelle heard something. It was Gen yelling at them. She had two people chasing her! “We’ve got to help her!” Annabelle shouted as the 3 of them ran toward Gen. Gen was just barely staying ahead of them and had just crossed over onto the Red team's side! Ivy was exhausted from the running and had to stop to catch her breath, while Ally continued to chase. Just before Ally could tag Gen out, Annabelle swooped in to tag her out instead! Having caught her breath, Ivy looked up to see April smiling and waving before she was poked in the forehead. Ivy appeared right next to Ally, who was knelt down and forced to fill her diaper. “Let's hope Ivy doesn't mind a stinky playmate.” ( ͡ᵔ ⍙ ͡ᵔ) “Thank you!” Gen shouted to her teammates before pushing her block into its spot. More red fireworks began popping off. The Red team has gained another point! “We’re doing it! Yay! We’re winning!” Gen exclaimed as she ran over to give Annabelle a hug and jumped around. While the 4 of them were celebrating their big lead, no one noticed Lightning sneaking up from behind some trees to grab a heart-shaped block. "Unfortunately for you guys, I don't skip leg day," Lightning said, to the Red team's shock. Before they could react, Lightning began sprinting towards her side. She was going so fast that the rest of the Red team could not keep up! With most of the Red team chasing Lightning, Jane and Momo came out of their hiding spots. “Nice plan, Momo,” Jane said as the two of them grabbed the last two blocks. “This is almost too easy!” “Oh no, you don't!” Jay said, running up in front of the two. “I knew someone was trying to sneak over while everyone was distracted. It's a good thing I stayed to watch and catch you two!” Jay was very proud of her plan. Granted, she had gotten distracted when Lightning took the first block, but she sure wasn't going to let these two getaway! Distracted by her own boasting, she had not yet touched Jane or Momo. They looked at each other for a moment before running in separate directions! “H-Hey! No fair!” Jay shouted as she tried to decide which one to chase! ****** Thanks to Lightning’s distraction, Crissie and Julia were able to spot them crossing the line and began chasing after the large group. While most of the Red team was distracted by Lightning, they didn't notice Crissie and Julia until they had already tagged out Mesae and Gen! Lightning was able to get to the holes and place her block inside, sending up blue fireworks. “Blue team’s making a comeback!” ( ͡• ‿ ͡•) April changed her course from chasing Lightning to nabbing the final block! “No you don’t!” Julia shouted as she tried to tag April, but Nathan jumped in front of her and was tagged out instead! Thanks to his sacrifice, April was able to get past Julia and run toward her side! She wasn't able to make it far before Lightning had sprinted with all her might to tag April’s back. She appeared in the crib next to Nathan and nearly the rest of her team. Most of them looked disappointed, with Gen the messing-virgin saying “eww” over and over again. April let out a sharp cry in frustration, dropping to her knees. Nathan went over to give her a hug to help her calm down, her shouting turning to grunts as the back of her diaper grew brown. A few moments later, Jay appeared inside the crib after failing to tag anyone. Then, more blue fireworks were shot up as the Blue team placed the other two blocks on their side. “Blue team has officially won the first round of the DL Games!” ( ͡> ‿‿ ͡<) ******* With a snap of a finger, all the players were once again brought together. Everyone from the Blue team celebrated their win, while most of the Red team grumbled over their loss. “Well, I hope my wet and stinky little babies all had fun with this game.” ( ͡^ ᴗ ͡^) “But now that it is over, it is time for one of you to say goodbye and go home.” “You're sending me and April home!” Nathan said without hesitation. “That’s not how this works, soggy britches. All the babies need to vote someone off.” ( ͡• ‿ ͡•) “Don't you remember, you owe me for filling in for this game? Remember,” Nathan reminded The Host. The Host thought about it for a moment. Deciding it was more of a hassle to argue, they decided to go with this. “Fine, you win. Both of you will be sent home.” (╥̃ ₃╥̃) “Wait, are you okay with this?” Crissie asked, “Just leaving without a fight?” April did want to stay a bit longer and go for that wish, but then Nathan whispered something titillating into her ear that sent a shiver up her spine. “Sorry everyone, I would like to stay, but I’ve got a play date with daddy that I don't want to miss!” April said as most of them blushed at the comment. She then ran over to Gen and Annabelle to give them a hug. “Sorry, we couldn’t talk more. Maybe another time!” “Sucks to see you go so soon,” Jay said to Nathan, “but I’m glad you kept your end of the bet!” Nathan looked at her for a moment. “What bet?” He had completely forgotten about it and did not care. Jay was surprised by this, but he and April walked away before she could respond. After saying a few short goodbyes, the two of them walked up to The Host. “Oh, one more thing before we go.” ( ¬︠ ᴗ ︡¬) Suddenly, Nathan’s diaper was being filled to the extreme, giving him a comically large diaper! “HEY, YOU BAS-” Nathan yelled, before the two of them were sent back home. They would only have vague memories of their time in the games. April would like to come back one day, while Nathan feared that he might be summoned once again. “Now then, I’m sure all you little babies must be tired from that game. Why, I’ll show you all where you will be staying so you can relax before the next one.” ( • ᴗ • ) With a snap of The Host’s fingers, everyone disappeared to wherever The Host took them. But unbeknownst to them, small cracks were appearing inside the void… CrissieBaby OC Crissie https://sta.sh/01wwnc5hdgkc Wannatripbaby OC Julia https://sta.sh/016ptks0p9sa Donniediaps OC Mesae https://sta.sh/01noap15gs0y Lampree OC Gen https://sta.sh/029kjaie9v1z jaydonrock OC Jay https://sta.sh/0hjb2qu0wlk AllySmolShork OC Ally https://sta.sh/026lxaraphof AuthorJaneGalt OC Jane https://sta.sh/019ase6i43nh LightningoftheGalaxy OC Lightning https://sta.sh/0w8793ph0li momoabdl OC Momo https://sta.sh/0fcaf9c7z87 FoxDeityAyumi OC Annabell https://sta.sh/012kmmsas9rb The_Star_Rie OC Ivy https://sta.sh/01u2w4319bpk cy0te48 OC Emma https://sta.sh/0cyav5p3x4h finaly, ^w^ Pinkthedinosaur OC April https://sta.sh/02ctwro8yxnn (image of April and Nathan)

Little Gin-Gin's Trip to the Mall *this is only the first out of many to come* ooOoo Chapter 1: “Is my little Gin-gin excited to meet Santa!?” her mommy asked, gasping as if she were surprised. From their place in line, she could see about fifty other adult-babies with their mommies and daddies. Some eagerly awaited to meet the fat, white-haired man in the red suite while others sulked, mortified at the prospect of having to sit on a grown-man's lap in front of a crowd of strangers. “Are you going to tell Santa everything you want for Christmas?” the woman bounced her in her arms, squeezing the back of her thick oversized diaper. Crinkling loudly, Ginny didn’t give it a second thought. Her self worth had been lost a long time ago. No longer did she care who saw her naked or diapered. The mall, possibly the most public place you could be seen in, was where they were. Deck the Halls played loudly over the speakers and littles gathered around the large sparkly Christmas tree, eagerly watching the train go round and round in circles. The general atmosphere was a happy one. Holiday music filled the air as people did last minute Christmas shopping, dragging their littles in tow or dropping them off at the mall daycare. Ginny couldn’t help but blush as her mommy, placed a big sloppy wet kiss on her cheek. Her eyes drifted down, catching just a hint of the white diaper, peeking out from her frilled, velvety red dress. Soleless, shining black Mary Jane’s were strapped onto her feet and ruffled white socks that went up to almost her knees. The girl was convinced that dress up was her mommy’s favorite part of the day. Never was she to look less than her best, which meant looking the most little she could be. There was a time when she would’ve rebelled. There was a time she would've screamed and cried, refusing to leave the house until her mommy had to drag her out. But that time had passed and now she had resigned herself to the fact that she was never escaping. All she could do was suck it up and pretend. Good girls were rewarded with treats. Naughty girls received spankings. That was something she did not want. Next in line, a feeling of fear suddenly formed in the pit of her stomach. Gripping onto the front of her mommy’s shirt, the ginger-haired girl hid her face in the woman’s warm, soft bosom, tightening her legs around her waist. Laughs were heard as her mommy kissed her head, and they were called up. The fake Santa gave a friendly smile, motioning for them to come forward. “Ohhh, is the baby shy?” a worker cooed, approaching them. He was dressed as an elf with big ears, pointy shoes and a pointy hat. “Why doesn’t mommy come up with us! You wouldn’t want Santa to forget any presents, would you?” Could Santa grant her her freedom? Could Santa give her a phone so she could call the police and escape this place? The answer was no. There was nothing Santa could give her. They didn’t wait for an answer and her heart skipped a beat as she was taken from the warmth of her mommy’s arms. It was sickening how much she had begun to depend on her. A high pitched squeal escaped her lips as she was placed on the man’s lap, pressed against his beer belly. It didn’t surprise her at how she fit perfectly snug on his lap and he held onto her waist, ensuring she didn’t slip off. “Well, hohoho! You can call me Santa, what's your name?” the man asked in a loud jovial voice, his breath smelling of mint. His long beard tickled her skin leaving her wanting to pull on it. “M-mommy cawl me, Gin-gin ow Ginny!” as she spoke, drool dribbled from her mouth, and if the Santa imposter noticed or cared, he didn’t show it. Beside them, her mommy beamed, taking numerous pictures on her phone. Ginny knew that when spoke it either had to be in her baby voice or she was to stay silent. She had worked hard to perfect the high and squeaky voice, but her inability to pronounce words came naturally after over half of her teeth were removed and twisted around in her mouth. Was she in constant immense pain? Yes. Did her mommy care? No. She thought her speech impediment was cute and teethers had become her new best friend. Plus the constant drooling that resulted from the procedure was an extra bonus. “Well, Gin-gin, have you been a good or a naughty girl?” “Goo’!” she squealed, bouncing lightly in his lap, much to the enjoyment of everyone watching. In another life, she could’ve been an actress. That’s how good she was at pretending. “Why don’t you tell Santa what you want for Christmas.” She leaned forward, smelling the faintest whiff of cinnamon and cupped her hand around his ear, coming up with things on the spot. “My elves down at the North Pole are working very very hard to prepare. I can promise that you are going to have a very happy Christmas.” She continued to smile, giggling at all the right moments as she sucked on her fingers. A woman elf stood behind the camera, making funny faces as they did with all littles to get them to smile. Ginny beamed, making sure to show her toothless mouth as the pictures were taken. Beside them stood Jill Anderson, usually a stern woman, but today unusually happy. The woman already knew what her Christmas cards were going to be as she glanced down at her little’s exposed diaper, rapidly turning yellow, and she didn’t even realize. This year was going to be a great Christmas. ooOoo A/N: Hey! I just wanted to do a quick Christmas one shot, since the holidays are coming up!! For those who don’t remember or didn’t read it, Ginny was the new nurse from Emmy’s story who was taken and regressed by Jill Anderson, the mean nurse. I will be doing more of these quick one shots for the other characters I’ve created in this Little Beginnings universe! Hope you enjoy and happy holidays to everyone celebrating Christmas and Hanukkah!

This is a Diaper Dimension story that is inspired by “Unfair”, a currently ongoing novel being written by Personalias. A discussion with him about how older Littles and Amazons live within the world was something we both hadn’t seen before and I wanted to explore it a little. Content warning: There is a mention and descriptions of a symptom of cancer. Last Moments “How do you want to do this Chris?” It’s funny. Being a Little, I couldn’t really respond in many different ways to this question. Amazon lawyers just want to cover their arses though. I’m a lucky one, I still have my brains even if I can’t walk to save my life. So he had to get my full consent for this. “Should she pass away I want to be put into full care of a state home” I made sure I was clear about the “state” part. I wasn’t going to be adopted again at sixty-five except by Amazons who got their kicks from seeing us die. They existed, even Amazons knew that, but like all things it was normally seen as the lesser of two evils to have Littles cared for round the clock by someone with the resources to do so. I’d had nightmares of being taken away and locked in a crib by some witch who wanted to keep me as a “pity” case. I’d woken up more times than I can count, sweating from fear of losing my mind to brain rotting cartoons and whatever else some horrible sadistic Amazon might do in the name of “easing my last few years”. I had no such intention of ending up there though. “You’re sure? You’ve only just reached the age where this is an option at all, you could still be…” “I’m sure, Mr Grist” I deferred, despite knowing and using Robert's name since I was adopted. The man had been with us since day one, signing my adoption papers off when Clarissa had taken me in. As with most Little adoptions, it wasn’t my choice. But unlike most Little adoptions, Clarissa had enough empathy to leave me with my identity intact. “Very well. Can you sign papers?” He placed the three page form confirming my decision on my highchair tray, a small section at the bottom requiring my confirmation. I shook my head “No, even without the arthritis, my developmental plateau was such that I lost fine motor control” He nodded, producing a small stamp and ink blotter from his bag. I’d lied a little there, secretly I’d been ensuring that my handwriting and typing skills were not vastly different from others my age. But once my fingers had started to creak I’d abandoned those exercises. This was easier. “I’ll just align these with your name, please press your thumb into the ink and mark the square with your print” he was talking slower, methodically. It was clear he didn’t want me to do this. Amazons set up the state homes system in response to many elderly Littles being abandoned by uncaring parents. Amazons were not heartless, but they were reliant on their feelings remaining stable just like anyone else. And when your Little one is wrinkling, smelling different, needing constant salon trips just to stay being your “special little one”, it takes its toll. That system was an admission of failure for them they were not used to, and Robert felt it as much as any of his ilk did. I followed his instructions, the red blotter staining my thumb as my hand, shaking from a combination of nerves and age, pressed into the paper. He then handed me the stamp, now with my full name blazed into it, and helped me push it firmly into the blotter before directing it to the relevant line at the bottom of the third page of the contract. “Chris... Clarissa and you are… special. Really.” That was unexpected “What do you mean? Bob, you’ve never treated me as anything other than…” “A baby boy? Yes, I know. But Clarissa doesn’t, and I think I know why. You’re the most intelligent Little I know...” that was a backhanded compliment at best, given how we lost our minds in most cases “and I think she saw that too” I sighed, trying to hold my tongue. He meant well, that was one of the more infuriating elements to this whole affair. Clarissa always went that extra step, never said anything in broad strokes, always acted like I was someone she wanted to talk to. Bob always looked a little uncomfortable with the idea of a Little who had been adopted forty years ago and was able to intellectually compete with him. “I’m lucky, I guess” that wasn’t a lie, even if it wasn’t what I wanted to say “But being able to talk about the ins and outs of civil law with you at diners wasn’t that stimulating you know” Bob chuckled “Well… I’ll miss it. Most clients of mine are content to breastfeed their kids in front of me and just let me write everything for them. I’d never had to explain the concept of a 23b-21 registration process to someone eating a Smiley Meal in just a…” he stopped. I knew where he was going with that “... I mean, a Little with a real sense of the world, you know?” I think I wanted to both laugh and punch him in that instant. The left and right sides of the brain sometimes come into conflict after all and it’s possible both thoughts occurred. In that split second it chose the less confrontational option. “I’ve worn diapers for four decades now Rob. Hell haven’t you changed me before?” He grimaced “One time. I babysat… I took care of you for Clarissa’s father's funeral. You err… apparently didn’t take well to the formula I’d made.” I smirked “I may have told you to put in double the normal amount of powder… Tastes a lot sweeter and goes through you a lot faster...” His eyes went wide, then a similar smirk appeared on his face “You cheeky monkey. I knew I should’ve just listened to Clarissa’s instructions” I imagine he wanted to call me worse things but Amazons basically avoided cussing in front of adopted Littles by instinct once they reached adulthood. If you did it on a crowded train you’d get tutters and parents covering their child's (Little or not) ears with their hands. I saw his face drop a little as he put the papers away. Once he filed those and sent them through to the central registration office, that would be it. A couple of smart looking Amazons would come round, read the full text of the contract to me and then I’d get into a car with them. A few hours later, I’d be being put down for a nap in a bare bones crib with whatever plush toys I’d chosen to take with me. I’d get to meet some caretakers, be regularly breastfed and changed but I’d never be given an opportunity to do a crossword, or read a journal. Best I could hope for was a soft fleece alphabet book… “I’ll stay here with you. Until we have to leave.” Rob stated “Least I can do” I nodded “Mmm… for me or for Clarissa?” He frowned “Both of you. I know our relationship has been professional for the entire time we’ve known eachother but I consider you a friend and her…” he paused. I could see the pain on his face “I considered her a partner. Not in the romantic sense… but she was always there for me” He got up off his chair next to me, pulling his shirt down tight and putting his bag on the table. He put away his writing equipment, clipped the thing shut and then turned to face me again “Right… guess we should go and see her huh?” I nodded. This was going to hurt, but it had to be done. “Yeah… gimme a hand out of this chair” I couldn’t unclip any of the straps or the tray, even before my fingers had started to crumble on the inside. Amazons would’ve made everything Little-proof if they could. Rob removed the various contraptions keeping me in place and then hoisted me onto his arm, my head at his eye level, my feet barely touching his belt. I felt a distinct and noticeable squish as he did so. I’d wet during our meeting, that squish had been absent when I’d been put in the chair. “Do you need a change or…” I shook my head. He’d noticed straight away but even after forty years my body's routine was reliable enough at this point to know that changing me now would just mean changing me again in an hour. “Ok kiddo... Chris” “You don’t have to correct yourself every time you treat me like a toddler, Rob” I’d far rather he just acted naturally than put on some forced civility for the sake of our last day in this house. He sighed “Yes, I do. It’s what she would want me to do. You know that as well as I do.” My eyebrow must have visibly raised because a small grin appeared on his face “Look, we weren’t romantically involved but… she cared about you so much Chris. I know if the cancer hadn’t…” I audibly cleared my throat “Don’t. You know she wouldn’t want us talking about that close to her room either” I looked towards the bedroom as we approached the door, Rob's hand pulling the handle and opening it up to reveal its occupant. There she was. My “mommy”. The person I’d been doted on by for what may as well have been my whole life. She was just sitting quietly in a recliner, her legs and hands relaxed as she slept. That had been the first sign something had been wrong, she’d fallen asleep at the dinner table. Just gone, out like a light. I thought maybe she’d just been having trouble with insomnia and she’d been hiding it. Wasn’t strictly my problem, so I’d let her tell me if she wanted to. Then she fell asleep at the wheel of the car at some lights. With me in it on the passenger side, strapped tightly in a car seat. Then it became my problem too, and she knew it. She’d told me it had been happening once a day for a few months. We went to the doctors, she got tested and we got the results. It was that easy and that simple. But it was the most painful day of my life… and hers. A tumour in her brain was messing with everything, chances of her living after surgery with all her functions intact were slim, and I knew she’d never want that life for herself. In other words, a life without me. There was no chance I’d be left in the care of an Amazon who was as unwell as she was, or could’ve been. She already got funny looks for giving me the level of independence I had, it would take very little for someone to take some of that away. Rob walked me over to her side, grabbing a nearby chair and pulling it up to the arm of the recliner so we were at eye level. “Clarissa. Clarissa, it’s time to get up” Rob said, half-heartedly. She stayed asleep, her breathing was slow but stable and her eyes were moving behind the lids. She was dreaming… “Mommy” I grabbed her hand my fingers rubbing against her knuckles “Mommy wake up” A low groan was my answer as she turned to face us. I smiled, my thumb going to my mouth instinctively as her deep blue eyes made contact with mine. Despite letting me keep so much, sometimes I couldn’t help but give her something of my adulthood at times. I’d take an oral fixation with a clear head over no teeth, that’s for sure. “Hey Chris… Sorry, I must have fallen asleep again” she slurred the words, still coming out of the dream state “Are you feeling ok?” “Yeah Mommy, I’m alright” I lied, sniffling. I was far from alright seeing her this way. We were separated by two years of age, but she looked and sounded twenty years older now. Rest and medication, however much time it had given us, had not meant she was able to be the woman that had taken me in all those years ago. “Good. Rob, I’m guessing you and Chris have had the meeting?” Rob smiled and looked her in the eye, going close to her face and resting his hand on hers “Yes Clarissa, we’ve signed everything off. In a few days you’ll be able to go into the hospital knowing Chris is…” he paused, looking at me as if for guidance. I didn’t know what to add to that sentence myself “That Chris’ll be fine” A little laugh came from her as her mouth strained into a smile “I’m not worried about Chris. He’s still got all the energy he needs to be a troublemaker” I felt my throat tighten. That sense of humour was something I’d miss every day from here on out. I could feel the first tears in my eyes trying to break free of their ducts. “Oh… come on Mommy please…” I knew I sounded like I was starting to sob, but I’d stopped caring “I’m not… not that bad” She straightened up in the chair. I could see the energy she was expending just to stay lucid, to stay in the present “Chris, can you come onto my lap please” Rob lowered me down onto the chair, my legs and arms clambering over the arm and eventually finding purchase on her dress. I moved myself into a comfortable position, facing her directly as she pulled me close and let my legs find space to either side of her. “You promise to be a good boy for me, ok?” she started pulling her fingers through my thinning hair, it’s little grey strands now carefully managed by the local salon. That would be another thing I’d lose I suppose. “Y… yes Mommy” I felt the first droplet of a tear stream down my face. You think you’ve prepared yourself for these moments, but trust me you never have. “Don’t lose what makes you special.” Her eyes were focussed, more so than I’d seen them for years. “Don’t give anyone an easy time of what you have left. Throw every tantrum and every little rebellious act you can if you need to” I smiled, even at the last she was still telling me to fight the system. She’d never been on the same page as other Amazons, even if she still breastfed me and changed my diapers. She liked to call me “special” round others, like I’d been born with the natural gift of speech and literacy that simply couldn’t be taken away. When I’d been told my developmental plateau (I hated the term, and so did most Amazons who just wanted to call it “how much of a baby I am”) was likely to be firmly in the “infant” percentile she’d thrown the papers out the window and refused to take me back to the daycare. “I will Mommy. I’ll teach them a thing or two” I winked, another tear coming from my eye as it was forced free of the duct. “That’s my baby boy” she tickled my tummy, eliciting a totally involuntary giggle from me... and another reaction as well. You have to understand that I would’ve avoided it if I could. This was not the moment I wanted to be interrupted by a call of nature but forty years in nothing but thick cloth diapers take a toll on your muscle strength down there. I felt the first wet release of gas moments before my stomach cramped and forced me to grunt and grit my teeth. It was long since past the point of producing anything other than slick mush, Amazon breastmilk was full of everything a Little needs except the firm matter required to make pooping anything other than a very quick experience. “Oh dear… Is it really that time already?” she bounced me a little on her knee. Great, just squish it around while I’m still going… Rob groaned next to her “He was wet during the meeting, and he did say he didn’t want to be changed. Maybe he…” Clarissa giggled “Hah, Chris poops when he needs to. Trust me you learn these things after forty years.” At this point I was emotionally spent. Filling your underwear while you’re already struggling emotionally is a breaking point for most people I imagine. I burst into a bawl, my cries sounding no different to those of a child as I pulled my adopted mother into a full hug. “I… can’t... “ I tried to say something. Anything. “I know baby. I know” she looked at Rob “Did you do it, did he sign the papers?” Rob nodded, his eyes widening a little “You want to tell him now? There may not be another time” I sniffled, looking back and forth between the two of them “What… tell me what?” Clarissa looked down at me again, pulling my head between her breasts. I almost wanted to start suckling there and then, such was the desperate feeling in my head. “Rob didn’t give you papers to send you to the state house” I pulled my head back instantly. My sobbing was on hold, my brain had suddenly activated fight mode. “What? What did…” Clarissa smiled weakly “He’s adopting you. I’m not giving you over to some random Tweeners in a care home. I know you would’ve refused this if I’d asked but… I couldn’t leave you there. I’m sorry” I blinked in shock. My mind suddenly flooded with a mix of different emotions. Betrayal hit first, my choice having been taken away at the last minute. But a momentary look into her eyes killed that off and replaced it with something else. “I… why? You’re as old as me Rob, you can’t…” He shook his head, “I can and I will. You deserve better than to be left to brain drain in the middle of nowhere.” I lay my head back into Clarissa’s chest. This was all too much. “Chris, honey.” She started to rub my head, “Rob will take you to visit me in the hospital for as long… as long we can” she was crying now too, I could feel the tears as she kissed the top of my head. Amazons think Littles just one day start to lose their adult minds. For one second there I believed it was happening to me. Nothing but emotions were swimming in my brain, nothing but the feeling of mess in my diaper and the emotional distress of the last few minutes were describable, and neither were things I wanted anymore. “Rob, can you change him please. I think I need to sleep again.” she may as well have read my mind. Rob got up and put his arms under my armpits. I was spent, completely and totally done and both of them knew it. I wasn’t going to be able to say much more, but I didn’t need to. I’d get more time with her and now… now I had to start calling my lawyer… “Daddy.” Rob stopped in his tracks. His face turned into a smile as he looked at my red and snotty face. “You hear that Clarissa, I think your little guy is gonna be alright.” She laughed, “Didn’t I say a few minutes ago I knew he would be? Tell me how you feel after you’ve dealt with what he's just given you to deal with in his diaper and…” she yawned, her head leaning back in the chair “and then we’ll have another chat.” He grimaced and then chuckled. “Hopefully it’s not as bad as last time huh Chris?” I didn’t answer. I was already falling asleep from exhaustion. But I think I had good dreams during that nap… and honestly I don’t think I’ve had any nightmares since. If you'd like to read more of my work, please visit www.patreon.com/DaddyWuffster I post three 3000 word stories a month there. You'll get two on the $5 tier and 3 on the $10 tier! There is currently an ongoing Diaper Dimension story there for $10 Patrons called "Opportunities for Development" which is now up to its fourth chapter! Plus if you subscribe on the $10 tier you'll get one of them (voted for by Patrons!) as an audiobook!

When an IT engineer at RegressCo gets hold of his upcoming evaluation, he tries to find a way to adjust the standards by which he is assessed… with unintended consequences RegressCo - Fudging the Numbers Jack sighed as he sat down in his cubicle. Frustration was visible on his forehead this morning, wrinkling all the way down to the end of the hyenas muzzle. He’d been dealing with ridiculous queries all day, tickets from everywhere from Research and Development to Payroll. How they managed to break so many pieces of equipment and crash simple pieces of software was beyond him. RegressCo needed to get a better handle on enforcing some best practices, the entire IT department was at full capacity and the tantrums people threw about them were audible from three floors up. This time, it was easy to see the cause. Some new intern in HR hadn’t been given a sippy cup and his laptop keys were now stuck firmly in place from the apple juice that had worked their way between them. Thankfully, it was an easy fix, a little careful application of heat and cotton buds and soon everything was clicking away like new. “Now, let’s give you a test run” the hyena whispered to himself, pressing the on button. Rather than the normal start-up screen, the laptop flickered for a second before showing a clear and organised desktop, spreadsheets and documents neatly placed in specific sections. “What? Did this kid not log out or..” It was then the hyena spotted something that made him stop before hitting the start menu. A document mixed in among others. “Jack Crowley - Yearly Assessment - DRAFT COPY” Great. He’d known that was coming up at some point. Still a few weeks away, but definitely in his near future. He’d been at RegressCo for just under a year, his three month probation had come and gone and he’d been officially inducted into a little clique of workers who were still with it enough to make it to the toilet six months in. This place was a minefield, he’d learned that just by reading the various manuals covered in crayons and big red warnings saying “DON’T DRINK THE MILK”. Once you’d stepped in the wrong place at the wrong time, that was it, your name went on the potty chart and your assessments went from formal and boring to a desperate attempt not to be distracted by the colours on your bosses tie. He hovered over the icon, leaning back in his chair. If he read this, he’d probably be breaking a rule somewhere. Fireable? Maybe, he certainly wouldn’t look good on the next version if he was found out… But no one would know right? He opened up the document, skimming through its various sections. His face scowled, dropped, then contorted. None of the notes had been put into “corporate” speak yet, most were still in their raw forms. “Compared to other staff members, standards of work completion have recently dropped... Sees some work as unnecessary... misses deadlines... incapable of working to the standards expected in the company” This wasn’t good. It was really not good. Not a firing, but definitely a talk down. And company evaluations at RegressCo that involved a talk down had a tendency to result in demotion to “potty by the desk at all times” “This is ridiculous…” he whispered to himself leaning back in his chair. He looked over the spreadsheets in the bottom corner, eyes wandering over their file names. “Potty and Toilet Tracker - Q1” “Employee Character Reference Contact Details” “Timesheets - Break and Lunch Monitoring - Q1” All neat, all clearly labelled. Wouldn’t expect less from a straight laced intern in HR with more time to do busy work than anything useful. “Incapable of working to the standards expected in the company…” he tapped his legs, biting on his bottom lip “What standards are they talking about…?” He clicked on the Potty Tracker. Sure enough, everyone in the company was listed there, each one with a status drop down menu. Each of those were known to employees anyway, but it was clear this was the one area Jack was, at least, in the clear. He looked over the list of his colleagues in IT. His manager was listed under the third rung of the ladder: “PAUL FRY - Bathroom privileges, pull-ups required” A thought popped into Jack's mind. These were all a matter of public record in the company. If he lowered the visible standards of those assessing him… ************************************************************************************************************* Paul Fry grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl on the colourful kids tables in the kitchen. The cheetah had got used to this, regression for him was - as he liked to put it - “childs play“. Sure it was annoying for a while, but more often than not he woke up one morning back in his double bed sprawled out with a ripped diaper down his ankles. Then it was just shower, bathroom and back to the grind before the next time he got this small. Five years of it tended to give you a sense of it as it was happening and he’d had enough experience to keep himself stocked up with supplies. Potty training was just another system he had to learn in his IT Consultant position, like any other, and now he just went through the motions each… He stopped in his tracks as a warmth spread through his crotch. His eyes shot to his pants, the apple dropping from his hands in shock. His paws shot to his front, feeling the plastic of the pull-up underneath them expanding as his bladder emptied completely. “I… what the?” he pulled at the front of his waistband, checking the damage. Sure enough, the designs had faded, he’d not even felt it coming. This wasn’t normal… “Hey Paul! You ok there?” he looked round and up at his co-worker. Doing his best to shake off his shock he smiled weakly “Heh… yeah just errr…” “Having a bathroom break?” the cheetahs jaw dropped “Oh come on, it was obvious a mile away” “I… I am not!” he clenched his fists and stamped his foot on the floor. Wait… that wasn’t… “Ok geez… wait… you’re...” The cheetah felt strange. Why couldn’t he unclench his fists? Why did he feel so wound up? He tried to focus on breathing, trying to relieve the sudden tightness. His tail had gone straight, his legs were bending… “Oh… Oh no!” His co-worker fanned his nose dramatically “I’ll err… I’ll go get the nurse Paul. Try not to sit down” The cheetah felt tears coming to his eyes as he patted the back of his pants. But… he was potty training... ************************************************************************************************************* Satisfied with a little adjustment to his managers training progress - the drop down box now helpfully stating “Incontinent - Diapers Required” - Jack started skimming through a couple of the other spreadsheets. It couldn’t hurt to make a few additional adjustments here and there to get him through this, it’s not like they’d be permanent. They’d probably just blame simple clerical error and leave it at that. He wasn’t even logged in, so these wouldn’t appear as his edits. His mouse hovered over one particular spreadsheet, his mind finding another puzzle piece clicking into place. “Employee Character Reference Contact Details” A devious idea entered into Jack's mind. He looked through the list of staff members. There was his name, his mother listed as his emergency contact (being single wasn’t out of choice, so they were the best option) but he quickly found what he was looking for just below it... ************************************************************************************************************* “Hey Richie! Need a hand with those boxes?” Richard looked up and pressed the “Open” button on the elevator as the fox ran in next to him, his fennec ears perking up as he heard his friends gracious offer. “Yeah, that would be great! Seriously, I have no idea why the head of HR needs all this stationary. Can’t he just, I dunno, not eat his crayons every week?” The fox laughed “Oh come on, he probably just spills his bottle on everything and needs to replace it” As the elevator doors closed, Richard leaned against the back of the wall, checking his phone for messages. Sure enough, his wife was checking in on him at work, as she always seemed to. “Urgh…Janet” “Hmmm? Trouble in the Forrester household?” Richard shook his head “Nah, just getting the old “Are you sure you’re ok in work?” spiel. She cares a lot but man she can be…” His phone went off again, another message from her had popped through this time with a picture. “Come on kiddo, I know you’re there! You left your lunch at home silly!” The picture made Richard raise an eyebrow. She’d taken a picture of a kids lunchbox, adorned with cartoons and primary colours. He’d never seen it before in his life. “Oh wow, that's your lunchbox?” “NO!” Richard snapped back at the fox, immediately feeling a blush of shame come to his face for responding that way. “Hah, right, of course not.” Richard growled a little under his breath as he started to respond “Where did you get that from?! Great prank Janet, but I’ve got my lunch back in the office in my own tupperware” The elevator stopped at another floor. Richard began apologising as those outside looked disappointed at the pile of boxes taking up all of the space. “Sorry! I’m sure there’ll be another…” He stopped for a second as the door closed. Stifled giggles were coming from all of the staff. The fox burst into laughter as soon as the elevator started up again. “Richie you might want to take your pacifier out before you talk” What? “I don’t have..” he immediately felt his tongue smacking against a rubber teat. His eyes widened, looking down at the offending accessory that had found its way into his muzzle and pulling it free. It bounced off his chest as the clip that was attached to his shirt pocket caught it on the way down. “What the heck…” He felt his phone go off again. Grabbing at it he looked at the message that had just come in from Janet. “Oh you silly bee, that’s not yours! You should know better than to lie to mommy! I bet you couldn’t even do it without having your pacifier in, you always do that just before you tell me a fib!” Richards jaw dropped. Whatever was happening this was not how he’d expected this elevator ride to go, even as it reached its final stop. Whatever, he’d solve it once they’d unpacked everything, Janet acting strange was the least of his worries. “Ah, Richie!” The jackalope had been waiting for his delivery just outside his office “Glad to see you again, loving the new pacifier, Janet get it for you?” “I… errr…” “Just teasing” he took a small craft knife out of his pocket “Let’s just check the first lot…” he opened the tape of the first box the fox handed down to him, pulling open the cardboard sides. “Looks great! Oh, Richie!” He pulled out another box from inside the delivery, this one adorned with babyish designs “This is for you! Janet called me and asked to order this in. I have to say I think a lot of us are very jealous you have such a lovely mommy” he chuckled a little. Richard could barely keep his jaw off the ground “WI-FI BABY MONITOR - KEEP TRACK OF YOUR LITTLE ONE ANYWHERE!” As his phone went off again he shoved the pacifier back in his mouth and ran back into the elevator... ************************************************************************************************************* Jack couldn’t help but giggle to himself as he made the changes. Richie had always been funny to watch around his wife, a quick change to make her his “Mother by Regression” was far more fitting anyway. When they called for his character evaluation it would change the questions - “Does Richard need regular nap times”, “Does Richard prefer cloth or disposable diapers” - certainly lower his expected standards a little… and by extension the company average. He glanced around again. He was on a roll at this point, in for a penny in for a pound on the whole thing. “Timesheets - Break and Lunchtime Monitoring - Q1” Well… one last little edit would do for now… ************************************************************************************************************* Henry sighed as he leant back in his office chair. He had no idea where Jack had got to, the hyena must have been stuck in a side office working on equipment or something. The IT department was on a skeleton crew at the moment, Paul was at lunch and Jack was, well, not particularly useful at the best of times. He leaned forward, adjusting the booster seat under him a little. Being a field mouse came with a mixture of pros and cons in this place. He had all the accessibility items he could ever need for someone his size, but he did wish they weren’t all in primary colours. He glanced at his watch. Paul should’ve been back from lunch by now, and was delaying his own. “Guess I’ll go grab him, probably got stuck chatting to one of those cats down in accounting…” He made his way out of the IT office and down the hall. There was a little bit of commotion going on, a few of the girls were giggling outside the kitchen. He caught the word “accident” as he came up to the doorway. “What’s happening? Did I miss…” “Oh Henry dear is it time for your feeding already?” He looked to his right to see the head of catering, a large and motherly bear, walking towards the entrance, her apron stained from trying to persuade some of the regressed staff members to eat the veggies their caretakers had asked them to provide. “Is Paul there, he’s…” The mouse yipped as he was suddenly lifted off the ground the bear hoisting him on her arms “Now now dear, don’t worry, your bottle is ready and waiting to go in the warmer as always” Henry’s eyes widened as he looked up at his captor, squirming in her arms “Wa..wait! What are you doing?! I don’t need a feeding, I’m not regressed!” The bear gave his tummy a rub with one of her large fingers, her fur sneaking between the buttons of his shirt, untucking it and causing the mouse to squirm around it. “Ssshhh, I know you're not regressed silly, but that’s what’s on your lunchtime chart isn’t it! It’s alright, we’re always happy to oblige, no need to be embarrassed” He went to open his mouth to complain again but before he could, the bear started to rub his tummy again. It was relaxing and calming, far more than he’d like to admit. He felt himself mewl a little as he heard the beeping of the warmer finishing up what he could only assume was about to be his next meal. “Now Henry, don’t worry, Mama Bear is gonna let you finish this up and then you can have your nap ok?” Nap?! He didn’t have naps at lunchtime he… Before Henry could finish that thought the teat of the bottle was shoved unceremoniously into his mouth. He couldn’t help but swallow the warm milk that started to flow into his little maw, it’s taste washing over every part of his mouth. “There we are! See, no problem at all. Your manager was in here a little while ago, the poor kitten had a bit of an accident. Guess something is going round in IT?” Henry wasn’t really focussed on her voice. He just continued to nurse, desperate to get the experience over with so he could… “Oh dear!” Henry's eyes went wide. The warmth of the milk had flowed down into his stomach, but a different heat was now running down his suit pants. “Goodness me, guess someone needed to make a bit of room huh? Not to worry, this bear’s seen much worse. But I don’t think you’ll be able to stay in those pants…” The mouse tried to pop the bottle out of his mouth to get out some sort of explanation, but the paw of the bear was keeping it firmly in place. “Now, where are those diapers…” ************************************************************************************************************* Jack grinned from ear to ear. Adjustments to lunchtime rotas and meals took a little time to get ready, so by the time of his appraisal, he’d be the only one making himself his own lunch there. Henry would have to have bottles for a week or so before they made that correction, but it would be funny watching him try to explain it to a diapered Paul... Satisfied with his adjustments the hyena saved the relevant documents. That was it for the day, no need to go completely overboard and bring too much suspicious behaviour to the attention of HR. They liked to track these things, and going too far could mean IT could get a permanent changing table in the office. He shuddered at the idea… Still, he couldn’t help feeling like he needed to edit his own document just to be sure. It had been pretty harsh after all. He had to be careful and remove something specific. Removing everything would be obvious. Scanning down the list of bullet points he saw one he could very easily get rid of “He’s noted to be a clumsy member of staff. Motor control that of a child at times, recommend sippy cups and bibs at lunchtime as a precaution” That was bull, but he knew that would be the sort of thing he’d find particularly annoying if any of that was acted on. He selected the entire line and deleted it before moving the mouse towards the close button Except it didn’t get there. It span across the screen, slowly moving its way across the taskbar “What the…” It must have crashed, he thought. The next thing to do in this situation was to bring up the task manager and… His fingers clenched into fists, preventing him from even doing that. Panic spread across his face as he felt his legs push him away from the desk and start to move of their own accord, pulling him to the ground in a crawl. “What… what’s happening?!” he shouted out loud. The empty office didn’t respond, but his arm seemingly did. It slapped against his muzzle, feeling like he’d slept on it for days. His jaw opened as well, licking at the end of his fist and drooling round the back of it. Before he could try to regain control, his thumb had firmly lodged itself inside, his body seemingly desperate for the oral fixation. The hyena felt tears come to his eyes as he fell onto his back. The image of Paul coming in to find him like this was too embarrassing to think about. If he could just get himself back to his feet he could… “Hey do you have my laptop ready yet?” ************************************************************************************************************************************************** If you'd like to read more of my work, please visit www.patreon.com/DaddyWuffster I post three 3000 word stories a month there. You'll get two on the $5 tier and 3 on the $10 tier! Plus if you subscribe on the $10 tier you'll get one of them (voted for by Patrons!) as an audiobook!

When a wolf has a little too much to drink one night, he ends up ruining all of his summer plans. But his mother has found a solution... a job at a local daycare... This a slightly reformatted and edited version of the story I first posted to this Patreon when I launched it. With the next story directly following on from these events, I thought it would be good to properly get it into a post! Without a Care “But Mom why do I have to go?” “Because when I put in the application I had to mention your little accident two weeks ago” “I already explained why that happened! It was because I drank too much the night before and was completely hammered” “You shouldn’t have been drinking in the first place!” His mother shouted back “Besides I still have to mention it. They asked specifically if there had been any recent incidents of bed-wetting. If I didn’t, and anyone asked about it, I could have been in serious trouble” The 16-year-old wolf struggled to find an answer to this one. His mouth opened and closed without any form of communication. “Right” said his mother, clearly annoyed that the conversation had needed to go this far, “That’s sorted then. I’m sorry no where else would take you, but they should be able to give you jobs that will help in the future, especially if you have kids” “Yeah like I’m ever going to be taking care of kids” he replied, beginning to walk off. “Jimmy, don’t forget to pack all the stuff you need tonight. I don’t want you arriving to find you haven’t got enough underwear” “Mum I’m sure I’ll be fine” “Right now get to bed, if we’re not at the day-care by 9:00 tomorrow you’re not going to be giving a very good first impression” Jimmy only snarled. He had wanted to apply for a camp over the summer, in particular one that would be fun but also give him work. His mum had offered to help, and had gone through the various websites and phone channels. Thanks to the “incident” two weeks ago, however, only the day-care down the road had offered him a place to stay and work, mentioning that they had the “resources to deal with such an incident should it happen again”. The very words were like poison. They implied that the 16-year-old wolf would wet the bed, something he hadn’t done since he was 5. “Nothing I can do about it now” he said to himself, hauling his suitcase out of the cupboard under the stairs. Before long he had packed, his entire wardrobe was empty, and the chest of drawers next to his bed was void of underwear and pyjamas. The only thing left now was to go to bed and await the noise of his alarm the next morning. When the alarm did sound, Jimmy was already up and showering. A frustrated nights sleep had meant that he had awoken several times. This was, after all, his first taste of work. It was a big step in the teenage wolfs life, albeit a step in an odd direction. Eventually he had given up at six am, when there was little point in trying to go back to the world of dreams. Wandering out of the bathroom wrapped in only a towel he went back to his room, pushing the alarm button on his clock. This was promptly followed by a voice at his bedroom door “You’d better be out of bed mister, I’m not – Oh you’re awake!” “Yeah mum, can I have some privacy while I change” “Oh, sure” his mother sounded as though she was surprised to see her son awake, let alone half-naked. As she closed the door behind her, Jimmy threw his towel to floor and began to change into his last set of available clothes. As the car went to park outside the “Little Joy Day-Care Centre” Jimmy felt an odd sense of anxiety. He had no idea how to take care of babies and toddlers, yet he was about to be responsible for some of them. However, the voice of his mother from the front seat of the car was enough to shake him out of his thoughts. “Come on get that suitcase out of the back!” Within moments the case was out and both mother and son were walking up to the front of the day-care. As they walked in a combination of sensual stimuli hit both of them, a combination that could only mean “childhood”. White walls and blue floors greeted them, leading up to a pine desk with a fox sitting behind it. There were banners along the skirting boards covered in balloons and teddy bears and the noise of screaming and laughter that could only be coming from toddlers and babies was mixed with the sounds of cooing coming from a room the left of the entrance. The smells of baby powder and disinfectant filled the air, creating a strange aroma that was very nostalgic to the wolf. He had been in a similar place to this a long time ago, he thought to himself, though he couldn’t remember any of it off hand. “Hello there, can I help at all” the voice came from the fox behind the desk, clearly a receptionist. “Yes my son is here to work with you for a few weeks” His mother said, before Jimmy could even get a word in for himself “Ah yes Mr. Hall, if you take a right here you’ll be outside the headmistresses office. She’ll be able to give you more information” she immediately went back to her computer screen without a second look at the two of them. Having followed this simple instruction the mother and son were now seated in front of an older fox. Large spectacles covered her eyes and her hair was tinged grey at the edges. “Mr. Hall I’d like to welcome you to Little Joy Day-care. My name is Jennifer Dart, though I expect you to call me Miss Dart or Miss” she straightened herself up, as if to assert authority over her new worker “As the brief explained you’ll be helping out the staff in many of their day-to-day tasks. This includes, but is not limited to, cleaning out potties and diaper pails, cleaning the toilets and changing tables and replacing supplies from the stockroom.” She stared almost menacingly at Jimmy from across her desk. “You will not be required to do much while the children are here, most go home at 4pm with their parents, at which point we begin the cleaning up process to prepare for the next day. I provide my staff with dinner and a bed during the week since many live a long way away. This has simply become the easiest way to run the business, and you will also be given breakfast, lunches and dinners during your stay here.” There was a pause as she looked down at her notes. Spotting something she raised her eyebrows and her eyes moved to look at him, her head staying still. “We will also provide you with night-time protection, since we cannot risk having our beds ruined” Jimmy felt a pang of anger at these words. He wanted to complain, but he knew, by this stage, that there was no avoiding it. “Do you wear such protection at home Mr. Hall?” Jimmy was taken aback by the question “No miss, it was a one time accident”. Again her eyebrows rose to the top of her forehead “Oh… Well we’ll see how you go tonight in that case. If nothing is amiss we’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and you can sleep without the diapers” “Diapers?” Jimmy exclaimed, unable to keep his voice from rising in shock “Keep your tone in check young man!” his mother scolded. “At the very least we will ask you to wear a diaper on your first night here.” Miss Dart continued, “This is just a precaution as mattresses cost money and unless you want your mother paying for a new one I suggest you wear such protection. For now at any rate.” Jimmy couldn’t believe it. He was being told to wear diapers in case he wet the bed! He was 16! Not 3! “Since you do not normally wear protection of this kind, may I also presume that you have never changed yourself into a diaper before?” Already speechless from the previous point Jimmy could only stutter out a “N-No” “In that case I’ll have one of the staff change you before bed tonight. If this really is a one time thing you’ll have nothing to worry about.” She smiled at him “But that’s not for a little while yet, let me show you to your room” Both mother and son followed the headmistress back to the main hall. By now the screaming and laughing was in full swing in the day-care centre. Rather than going through the nursery, however, the headmistress took them to a door behind the reception desk. It opened onto a staircase that led up to second floor. “Up here is our staff room, toilet, kitchen and bedrooms” said Miss Dart “You’ll be sleeping in here” as she opened the door, Jimmy immediately noticed several odd things about the room. Firstly it smelled like the rest of the nursery, a combination of baby powder and disinfectants. Secondly all the furniture looked like the rest of the nursery, all white, including the bedspread and pillow. Finally one piece of furniture in particular caught his eye. “Is that a changing table?” “Yes it is” Miss Dart replied, “In some cases some of the children have to stay the night, particularly if parents are on business trips. We provide the service as an extra means of income.” It was at this point that he noticed something further about the bed. There was a large wooden fence folded down over the side. He immediately realised that this could be raised to create a cot. “So I’m in a toddlers room?” “I’m afraid this is all we can provide you with. All the other rooms are taken up by our staff members.” Jimmy could only sigh. He was going to be sleeping in a baby’s room for four weeks. “I guess this is where I wish you good luck!” his mother said, kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll be fine mom, how hard can it be” “That’s the spirit! I’ll be keeping in touch with Miss Dart to see how you’re getting on” as she started to leave the room Miss Dart followed. “We’ll give you time to unpack your things and then we’ll see you downstairs for lunch in an hours time” “Bye Mom!” Jimmy shouted at the door. “Bye! Have a nice time!” After unpacking, Jimmy took a little bit of time to look at some his furniture. As he suspected the fence on the side of the bed rose up easily, creating a suitable barrier, and quite a tall one at that. He doubted even he could climb over it! The changing table was a pretty standard affair, though he noticed it was void of any of the typical trimmings. No diapers, wipes or powder. After making sure all his shirts were neatly folded and stored in the wardrobe he headed back down the stairs to the reception desk. By now it was nearly lunchtime, though he realised he had no idea where to go. Spotting the receptionist he hoped she knew where he needed to go “Excuse me, where do I go for lunch?” he asked, a little nervous/ “Oh right, if you go through the nursery and turn right as soon as you reach the play area you’ll see our dining area. We have lunch with some of the kids, makes it easier to organise everything that way” she smiled at him, then went back to her computer/ “Thanks Miss… err…” “Keri. Miss Keri” “Ah ok, thanks” As Jimmy entered the nursery he was suddenly flustered. All around the room there were kids of various ages and species playing with toys and being tended to by the nursing staff. Some looked no older than about 18 months, with many wearing nothing but a diaper. Some even wore training pants he noticed, as he wandered through the room. The kids didn’t pay their new visitor the slightest attention, most were caught up in whatever activity they happened to be doing. The kitchen was far less intimidating to the 16 year old. There was a lion being fed in a highchair by a kindly looking tigress while the rest of the staff were eating their own meals. Noticing Miss Dart at the end of a table in the centre of the room he moved over to sit down. “Ah Mr. Hall, please take a seat.” She smiled at him again. It was the same smile as before, the one that sent shivers down his spine. “I trust you’ve unpacked everything?” “Yes Miss Dart” Jimmy replied, his voice slightly shaky from nerves Miss Dart seemed to notice his anxiety “Don’t worry, I imagine this is all a little new to you?” Jimmy nodded in response “I’m sure you’ll do fine. For now though I’ve put up a recommended menu for you on the side there. Have you cooked before?” “Only with pasta Miss” “Well that’s two meals sorted at least. As long as one of the staff is here to help I’m sure you’ll have no problem” Jimmy laughed nervously, unsure as to what to do next. “Well then, I suggest you make a quick meal for yourself. Pasta should be fine, there’s plenty in that top cupboard there” Miss Dart motioned over to the worktops “Otherwise pots and pans are in the cupboard next to the fridge. I’ll see you in here in about 20 minutes for your first briefing on what to do next.” “Ok, thank you Miss” She smiled again and left the kitchen, leaving Jimmy to cook. Pretty soon he was full of pasta, and Miss Dart returned, carrying a folder and a notepad “Right, Mr. Hall” Miss Dart started “As your first task, I need you to restock your own changing table” “What?” Jimmy’s voice was once again unable to stop itself from rising in mild shock “We need to ensure all the supplies are there for this evening. This will also give you the opportunity to see the stockroom and where we keep everything” She gave him a stern look “I’ll show you there now” When he entered the stockroom, Jimmy could see only one thing. Diapers, stacked high on nearly every shelf. Packs of different sized diapers for all the different species, all neatly stacked in alphabetical order. “Right Mr. Hall, I’m going to challenge you a little.” She gave him another of those smiles “I want to see how quickly you can find your size diaper and then find powder, wipes and a washcloth” Jimmy turned to look at the room. Logically, the diapers should be easy to find, he thought, since everything is in alphabetical order by species. Wandering down to the end of a row of shelves he quickly found a shelf marked “Wolves” and looked up and down the section. He never knew there were this many brands of diaper. Pawpers were here but so were Snugglies, Tailsies and Puppy Eyes. “How are any these supposed to be in my size?’ Jimmy thought to himself. Noticing that the sizes seemed to go up the further down you went he got on his knees and looked on the bottom shelf. “What the?” he said out loud. On the bottom shelf was a pack of “Teen Pawpers: For Ages 13-18” He couldn’t believe it. All the pack had on the front was a plain image of the diaper and the text. The picture showed that the diaper was covered in cute designs. “Have you found the diapers yet?” he heard Miss Darts voice across the other side of the room. “I think so!” He shouted back, now out of the confused stupor. The rest of the supplies were much easier to find. There were only two sections that weren’t stacked to the heavens with diapers so soon he had powder, washcloth and wipes. The large pack of Pawpers he was carrying in his left hand still left him confused, however. “I didn’t know Pawpers made diapers for teens” Miss Dart just smiled "Well, you do now, and you'll be getting familiar with them pretty soon" Jimmy could only grimace in resposne. “Right, that took you about 5 minutes” Miss Dart continued “Not too bad considering you’ve never been in the stockroom before” she grabbed a diaper pail from the entrance. “I’ll carry this one up to your room for you, keep a hold of the rest” This was all a bit surreal to the wolf; he was carrying his diapers and changing supplies up to his room after all. The rest of day passed pretty uneventfully, dinner consisted of a roast that Miss Dart had cooked for her staff. Soon it was time for bed and, Jimmy realised, for his first diaper change in 14 years. He was just about to change out of his clothes when the door to his room opened. “Alexis could you help Jimmy change for the night?” “Yes ma’am” replied the tiger that Jimmy recognised as being the tigress that had fed the lion at lunchtime. “Lets get you get up on the changing table then” The tigress didn’t even give Jimmy a moment to react. Before he knew what was happening Alexis had lifted him, which was no mean feat, up onto the changing table. “W..Wait I’m not even out of my pants” “Oh shush, I’ve undressed hundreds of kids” she quickly and roughly removed his jeans and boxers, leaving the wolf blushing bright red. “I…. I” Jimmy stuttered as he moved his hands to cover his private areas. “No need to be shy” Alexis merely moved his hands away and began wiping down the insides of his legs, the cold sensation making him shiver a little. She then followed up with a liberally dashing of powder along his front. The smell completely overwhelmed the wolf’s senses, putting him a daze. He felt his legs being lifted up and the diaper being placed underneath him before he looked up to see Alexis move the front over his belly button. His legs went back down and Alexis taped the diaper up on both sides. “There we are, all ready for bed” She lifted the wolf up off the table and set him down. Jimmy was in a state of shock and confusion. The diaper was thick, so thick in fact that he couldn’t move his knees together. The designs on the front were similar to that of any baby diaper, albeit slightly more toned down. “I’ll be in tomorrow morning at 8am. If you’re in need of a change, I’m responsible for that, otherwise make sure you’re ready to start working at 9 sharp” and with that she left Jimmy standing half naked in the middle of the room. Jimmy couldn’t believe it. He had just been changed into a diaper for the first time since he was a toddler, all because he’d had a little too much to drink one night. “This is so weird” he thought to himself. He couldn’t walk straight with the padding between his legs. Instead he found himself waddling over to his bed and climbing in with a loud rustle from his new underwear. He quickly found it impossible to lie on his side and rolled over to his front. He was tired from the day’s events and soon found himself drifting off into a peaceful slumber. ********************************************************************************************************** “Up you get Jimmy it’s 8am!” Alexis’ voice broke through Jimmy’s dreams and he awoke with a start. “Lets get you changed, you’ve got to be ready for work at 9” Jimmy wearily got out of bed and moved towards the wardrobe. He quickly realised something was amiss. He was waddling for a start. Then it all came flooding back. He looked down at his diaper and was shocked by what he saw. It was drooping heavily, the front was stained a light yellow and the tapes were stretched. He had completely soaked his diaper. For the second time in three weeks he had heavily wet the bed. “Come on, stop standing there like a lemon” Alexis quickly solved this problem by hoisting the teenager back up onto the changing table. Still drowsy, all Jimmy could do was stare at the process. Alexis pulled the diaper out from under him and started wiping, causing another shiver to go up his spine. This was enough to give him his voice back. “Why….?” “Hmmm?” Alexis assumed she’d missed half of the question. “Why did I wet the bed?” Jimmy was now on the verge of tears, it was all just too much. “It happens sometimes kiddo, but that’s why everywhere asks. You had one accident, and sometimes new environments can cause others.” Jimmy still felt confused and angry with himself. What was he supposed to say to his mother? “Anyway, you’re all cleaned up so get dressed. We’ll see you downstairs to start work in half an hour ok?” Alexis said, cheerfully. “Sure” Jimmy’s reply couldn’t have been more different. “Awww don’t make that face, cheer up and enjoy the next two weeks!” Alexis’ enthusiasm seemed to know no bounds. After the embarrassment of the morning, Jimmy didn’t feel like talking to anyone when he got downstairs. With Miss Dart waiting outside his room, however, this was going to prove impossible. “So, do you remember your tasks for the day?” “Uh-huh” Jimmy said, despondently. “If you’re still upset about your accident this morning you’ll need to shake it off. I don’t want you daydreaming or mulling around” Miss Dart said sternly “Yes ma’am” Jimmy replied, straightening himself up “Good, I’ll see you in the kitchen at lunchtime” The beginning of the day felt strange to the wolf. Cleaning the changing tables before the kids arrived wasn’t too bad, though the smells of baby powder and diapers reminded him of the morning events more than he would have liked. After finishing up on the tables he felt his bladder twinge. It wasn’t a very strong twinge, and the wolf carried on, assuming that he would be able to hold it. It was therefore a surprise when a second twinge hit, twice as strong as the first, leaving an ache on his bladder. “Gah… Where’s the bathroom on this floor?” Jimmy wandered back into nursery, looking left and right. The day was now in full swing, with cubs running around and the various carers doing their best to control them. Jimmy quickly ran to a carer. “Where’s the bath….” He only managed the first part of his question when he felt a release, and warmth, in his crotch. It didn’t take long for the wolf to realise what he was doing. In full view of cubs that were just learning to potty train, a 16 year old was wetting himself, right in front of a member of staff. It was too much; he just stood there, unable to say a word as his bladder emptied itself into his boxers. Since they were never meant to absorb anything, the slow trickle of urine down his legs quickened, until a small puddle had formed at his feet. When it was finally over, the wolf looked up at the caretaker, a look of pity on her face. “Come with me, I think Miss Dart will want to see you” All Jimmy could do was follow her to the heads office. He felt like a cub, the very idea that he had just wet himself felt so wrong. The caretaker knocked on the door, an action that was quickly followed by Miss Darts voice. “Come in” As he entered, he felt a draft of cool air against his pants, sending shivers around his body; he looked down at them again, only to immediately look back up when Miss Dart stood up, a look of shock on her face. “What happened?” she said, her voice cracking from surprise. “He had an accident ma’am, he was asking me where the toilets were when….” “An accident? Mr. Hall you’re sure you have never had any problems with your continence before now?” her voiced was so stern it caused Jimmy to break down on the spot. “I…. I’ve never had any problems…. Before” he said sobbing. “You said the bedwetting was a one time incident, but we both know there's an underlying problem here.” “Please Miss…. It just happened” “That’s the same excuse toddlers use Mr. Hall, you are 16, not 2” the patronising tone took Jimmy aback. “But I…” “There is clearly something amiss here. I would like you to have a shower and then wait in your room. Alexis will be up there in 10 minutes to see to any other needs you might have” All Jimmy could do was wander up the stairs, bewildered. Why had he wet himself? How had he managed to lose control so quickly? These questions plagued him throughout his shower and the drying process that followed. When he returned to his room, he found Alexis and Miss Dart waiting outside. “I heard you had a little accident today little guy” Alexis said, seeming to find the whole situation amusing. “Alexis, please, we need to have a serious discussion about Mr. Hall’s strange behaviour” “Yes Ma’am” Alexis straightened up, and followed both Jimmy and Miss Dart into his room. It was at this point that Jimmy found his voice again. “I’m sorry, I have no idea how it happened,” he said, his voice breaking under muffled sobs. Miss Darts eyes were focused on him, while Alexis was looking at her nails, seemingly uninterested. “Mr. Hall, while you were showing I came to the conclusion that having you here was a mistake.” The words were like a grenade exploding in his heart. “You have embarrassed yourself and us by losing control in front of children who are supposed to look up to you as a role model. Instead they saw a 16 year old doing exactly what they do because they haven’t be trained yet,” her voice carried an anger that Jimmy hadn’t expected. “Because of this, I have had to make a few changes to your stay here. From now on Alexis will take care of your needs. You will not be required to work. Instead we will allow you to be a…. test” she stretched the word out, letting it drift to Jimmy slowly. “What do you mean?” “Normally speaking we only take care of kids aged between 1 year and 4, as we only really have the resources to do so. We occasionally take care of older children but only on special request and when the money is good enough. What we want to do is see how well the kids react to someone older if they are put in the same environment” she gave Jimmy an intense look before continuing “You are to act exactly the same as any other toddler here, Alexis will be your personal caretaker and cater to feeding, clothing, and bathing you. You do not have a choice in this matter. We will consider not charging you for the carpet clean up if you oblige, but otherwise I can assure you we will spare no quarter in getting something back from you” Jimmy could only stare back in shock. They expected him to be a toddler, to act like a two year old? “That’s crazy! I’m sixteen!” “And yet you’ve proven so far that you have the same self-control as a toddler. You are even talking back to you superiors like a brat” her voice carried malice with that final sentence. “I’ll leave you and Alexis to discuss day to day routines. All toddlers have them after all. We won’t put you in the nursery for any length of time until tomorrow though.” “Righto ma’am!” Alexis stood to attention, ready to carry out her new duties. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Mr. Hall. Do not worry about the next few days, you’ll have no worries in the world” she followed this up with another of those smiles before closing his bedroom door behind her, leaving Jimmy agape. “So…. How about we get you in a new diaper?” Alexis leapt towards the still dumbstruck wolf, giving him no time to react. He had the now familiar feeling of being lifted on to the padded changing table. “Better make sure you’re not gonna leak everywhere again!” said Alexis, grabbing a diaper and supplies from the table. Despite the clear enthusiasm in her voice, all it did was make Jimmy burst into tears again. “Awww come on little guy. Here’s something to cheer you up” she handed him a little tiger plushie “Now you don’t ever need to worry, I’m always here, at least in plushie form” “I’m 16…. I don’t cuddle plushies anymore” Jimmy sobbed. “And you don’t wear diapers either I assume?” she asked, patronisingly. Rather than have an argument he couldn’t possibly win, Jimmy grabbed the plushie and pulled it tightly to him. Strangely it did feel better. “I’m just overwhelmed from today, I don’t really feel better with a plushie” he thought to himself. Before long he felt the tapes on his diaper being tightened and his tail being threaded through the hole in the back. “Rightio, all changed” Alexis then hoisted him off the table and onto the bed. “Now you stay right here mister I’m going to go get your dinner” she then tussled his hair, gave him a wink and left. All Jimmy did in Alexis’ absence was sit his bed, shattered from today’s events. He couldn’t think straight; all he could do was keep his new plushie close to his bare chest. Eventually Alexis barged into his room carrying a sippy cup and a jar of what could only be described as “mush”. “Here we are, mashed up chicken and rice for my new charge!” she said. “What? I can’t eat that!” “Really? Are you allergic?” “No but….” “Then open wide, the choo-choo train to Jimmy-wimmys tummy-wummy is on time. And no one wants it to be late!” Jimmy was so taken aback by this display of mothering that his mouth stayed open just long enough for Alexis to sneak in a spoonful of the slushy mixture. At first, Jimmy felt like gagging from surprise. Then he got his first taste, then the feeling of mashed chicken on his tongue. The taste wasn’t too bad, but the texture was so alien that he swallowed just to get it down. “Chooga-chooga” Alexis was seemingly unable to help herself, years of playing with toddlers enabling her to just leave any sense of restraint behind her. Jimmy on the other hand was moving further back on to his bed. “I don’t want another….mphh” Alexis was able to move fast enough to pop another spoonful of the mixture into his mouth before he could finish, resulting in the wolf moving forward into his new caretaker, reading to vomit the vile mixture over her shoulder. “If you don’t swallow it, you’ll go to bed without any more dinner” Alexis’s tone changed from one of amusement to seriousness. Jimmy looked up at her, considered his situation and stopped fidgeting. “Fine, may as well get it over with” For the next 10 minutes all that could from Jimmy’s room were the sounds of airplanes flying with badly mangled jet engines and trains that seemed to be built on rollercoaster’s. “All finished! What a good little tyke you are!” still bubbly as ever Alexis began cleaning his mouth with the washcloth he’d brought up yesterday. “Mmph, I would have gotten so messy if you’d just let me feed myself!” Jimmy complained “I seem to remember someone saying that they’d be able to keep their bed dry too!” That shut him up quick. “And now I think it’s time we sorted out what you’re going to be doing tomorrow!” Alexis pulled Jimmy over to her, putting her arm around his mid-rift and hugging him close to her chest. “Ok, all toddlers have playtime between nine and eleven o’clock, which gives parents time to bring them and let them relax. Then we try and teach counting or something at twelve before lunchtime at one” Jimmy grimaced, guessing that “lunchtime” meant eating more of the mixture he’d just eaten. “After that it’s nap-time, then at three it’s story-time and then everyone goes home. Of course in your case it’s a bit different. You’ll be given dinner, then changed for the night and put to bed with another story, read by yours truly” she positively beamed at Jimmy, who could only manage a weak smile back. “Of course, in between all of this you’ll have diaper changes. It won’t always be me doing that. The caretakers check everyone’s every half hour. Wouldn’t want you getting a diaper rash now would we?” She pinched him the cheek, which made Jimmy recoil and send out a weak growl. “Sounds like someone’s a little cranky, I think it’s time for bed little man!” Alexis put on her stern voice again and got up from the bed. Jimmy climbed into his bed, only to find Alexis’ hands moving the duvet over him. He had just been tucked into bed! “And now to make sure my little guy is safe and sound!” Alexis’ pulled the fence up from the side of bed, effectively turning it into a large crib. Jimmy doubted he could get out at night even if he wanted to now. He yawned and hugged his new plushie close to him, hoping he would fall asleep quickly. “Sweet dreams little guy!” Alexis chimed before closing the door behind her. ********************************************************************************************************** When Jimmy awoke he found himself in a very odd position. There was enough light coming through the babyish curtains in his room to see the state he was in. He’d thrown his covers off in the night, leaving his diaper on full display. A diaper that was soaked for the second night on the trot, he noticed. “Dammit!” he shouted, punching the bars in anger. “That’s no way to treat our property Jimmy!” Alexis had been at the door the whole time. “What’s the time?” asked Jimmy “8:00, I got in just as you woke up” Alexis replied. She pulled down the bars and grabbed her charge underneath his arms, carrying him over to the now overly familiar padded table. “Wow you really soaked this again, I hope the girls downstairs are ready for a challenge” Jimmy could only sigh and wait for it all to be over. He smelled the powder and felt his tail threaded through the hole of his new diaper. This was the first diaper he was going to use during the day for nearly 13 years. “All set and ready for the new day! Now just to find a t-shirt for you….” She grabbed a light green one out of the wardrobe. It was an old one that had seen better days. “Perfect” she said pulling it over Jimmy’s head. The wolf just groaned, hoping this would all turn out to be a very weird dream. By the time they were downstairs, Miss Dart had already sorted breakfast for him: Porridge with a sippy cup of orange juice. Jimmy had no qualms with being fed the porridge but the sippy cup felt a bit degrading. Then again he was hardly improving himself in his current situation. “Playtime little one!” Alexis pulled him up and lifted him over her shoulder. Despite the last two days, he was still surprised at her strength. She laid him down on the padded surface of the nursery play area. There were a couple of kids already here, including the lion he’d noticed from the day before. “I’ll be back to check on you at naptime. Be good!” and with that she went back into the kitchen. Jimmy suddenly felt very alone. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted his plushie! He waddled back towards the kitchen, hoping to shout the problem to Alexis. “Stay in the play area dear, we wouldn’t want you getting hurt” Jimmy looked round to see a middle aged husky bearing down on him. “But I want my plushie!” He shouted at her, covering his mouth immediately after saying it. He hadn’t just said that, had he? “Awww it’s ok sweetie, I’ll go find Alexis and ask her to find him for you. What’s his name?” “Umm…. Alexis” Jimmy replied, again without really thinking about babyish it sounded. “Awww that’s sweet, I’ll be right back dear, just put your bottom back on that mat there” As she left Jimmy went back to the play mat. It was at this point he felt something that sent fear through every part of his being. He needed to poop. He knew full well that there was absolutely no way he was going to get out of it. He still had no idea where the toilets were on this floor, and even if he did, if he was found he would likely face the wrath of Miss Dart. The husky still hadn’t got back when he felt a second cramp, much stronger than the first. He clenched his butt cheeks hoping to keep it in as long as possible. He moved himself into a kneeling position, his butt raised high to keep himself from having the most embarrassing accident of his teenage life. “Found it!” the voice of the husky called across from the other side of the room. This did two things. First it distracted Jimmy from his current predicament, causing him to get up off his knees and waddle towards his cuddly friend. The second thing was as a result of the first. Half-way there he felt his tail flag up, his body hunched itself and before he knew what was happening he was pushing mess out into his waiting diaper. The feeling was unlike anything the wolf could remember, the mass in his padding squashed up against his backside and tail before it seemed to drop away. In the same instant he felt a warmth radiate outwards from his crotch. He was wetting himself as well, flooding his new underwear without any hint of control. That was last straw. The teenage Jimmy completely broke down inside. Nothing could stop the flow of tears or the loud wails that came from his maw. The husky could immediately tell what the problem was. Grabbing a pacifier from a drawer she popped it in his screaming mouth. This calmed him down a little but he continued to sob. Grabbing the plushie from her arms he moved backwards, only to overbalance and find himself falling onto the contents of his diaper with a dull “plop”. Before he could start crying again, a tigress, not dissimilar to his plushie, pulled him up and began to change him. “Don’t worry little guy, I’m here for you” Alexis said, hugging Jimmy tightly in her arms. He hugged back. “I nweed twaingin” he said behind the pacifer. Alexis laughed “Come on you little stinker, I think we’re both gonna take a while to get used to that!”……..

I was waiting on my latest diaper delivery. The driver was 10 stops before me. Thats fine I will be able to hold it until he’s been. The cramps started to become unbearable as I kept refreshing the delivery tracker. 8 stops before me. There was no way I would be able to hold it for much longer. I was literally pacing myself up and down the house before I had to just bite the bullet and give in. I stood still and gave a slight push. My leg began to shudder as a big log began to slide out like a warm friendly snake. There was no going back now. The diaper expanded out to its maximum and the back of my jeans felt very tight. I had to push hard for the remainder. Once I was done I gave out a huge sigh of relief. I then began feeling rather anxious. I was in a full stinky diaper and I would need to answer the door to a delivery driver. There was no time to change so I decided to take a seat and wait. In the end it was fine I opened the door to the package being on the doorstep as he was walking away.