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  1. The Pumpkin Prince: Prologue A/N: Hello again! This story will be my next pet project on this site and it's an idea I've had since October. It's taken me this long to put it into action. but I hope you'll enjoy it. This story focuses on our Main Character Nathan who finds himself in a mysterious world where he must masquerade as the child of a prestigious Count. It's a bit weird, I admit, but vampires and supernatural creatures are my special interest and I've been wanting to write this story for months. It won't contain much of a horror element as much as the Halloween tag may fool you. It will contain semi-forced regression, coercion, intimidation, breastfeeding, bondage, and despite all of that, a lot of fluff. This is just the prologue and while it may seem like a lot so far, I promise we haven't even gotten to the best bit. Without further ado, let's get into it! Nathan hit the bottom of the chasm with a harsh thud. He had no time to prepare himself as the ground had crumbled beneath his feet while walking through a simple pumpkin patch; practically picked clean by patrons the previous days. Groaning, he found he had landed on yet another pumpkin which broke most of his fall. Hissing, he pushed himself up onto his knees. There was a throbbing in his rib and it was with no light amount of disgust that Nathan found he was covered in pumpkin goop. “Fuckin’ hell,” He tried to comment but a rustling of leaves nearby halted him. He finally noticed his predicament as he absorbed his surroundings. He was deep in a cavern, the walls arching up some 30-40 feet up. Lanterns hung down from the ceiling along with a multitude of simple floating candles. He found himself in the middle of a bountiful pumpkin patch. Very Charlie Brown-esque. The rustling grew nearer and was soon accompanied by a voice. “Fibby, Tibby, is that you? You know your mom said she’d ground you if you two picked my pumpkins again-” Time seemed to stop as the figure revealed himself and Nathan felt his stomach drop. Standing in front of him was a tall, lanky figure. It towered over him and was dressed in well-worn overalls; the kind with patches on the knees and one strap broken. It wore gloves that had to have been white at some point but were now stained a dark brown with time. A simple threadbare flannel under the overalls and worn black rainboots finished the ensemble. However, what shook Nathan was the burlap sack over the figure’s face. Bits of straw poked through the bag forming a patchy beard while the bag conformed to the shape of a face. The eyeholes were wide and expressive and looked down at Nathan with what he was sure was a faux concern. “Oh, you poor thing-” The Scarecrow cooed as he leaned down toward Nathan, finally forcing him to act. “AHHHH!” Nathan screamed, scrambling away as quickly as he could. Which wasn’t very quick mind you. He found himself slipping in the pumpkin goop until his back hit a large white fence. Pain shot through his side and leg at the moment, but Nathan was more focused on the scarecrow now approaching him quickly. Another scream tore through him. “Shhhh!” The scarecrow hushed him quickly. “I’m not gonna hurt ya, little guy. Honest.” Throat now burning from exertion Nathan could only whimper as the scarecrow shuffled closer. Its gloved hand reached up toward the bag on his head and pulled it off slowly. With the bag off, Nathan balked at a very familiar sight. “M-Mister Myles?” He stuttered looking into the soft wrinkles of Mr. Myles Patch, the sweet and kind middle-aged man who kept his minuscule town stocked with award-winning pumpkins every fall season. Mr. Myles nodded slowly, seemingly emboldened by Nathan’s waning fright. He snuck a bit closer, gently placing a hand on Nathan’s leg causing him to gasp in pain. “You bumbled yourself quite a bit.” He muttered worriedly. “We need to get you inside so I can call a doctor before anyone sees you here.” Nathan opened his mouth to speak but had to bite down on his lip to fight a wail as Myles lifted him from the remains of the pumpkin. He was swiftly carried inside what looked to be a cozy cottage. Mr. Myles wasted no time carrying him towards a living room that looked like something out of a granny’s dream home catalog. However, the couch was more comfortable than it looked as Mr. Myles laid him down. “Sit tight, kiddo while I call a doctor.” ‘I’m not a kid.’ Nathan wanted to comment as he was 17, about to be 18 come next season. But he was more focused on trying not to cry what with his throbbing leg and side. There was quick mumbling coming from the tiny kitchen. Mr. Myles saying something about ‘-An emergency. Come quick and come alone.’ When he returned, he held a glass of clear water, a thin straw sticking out the top rim. “Come on,” He encouraged as he held the straw to Nathan’s lips. “Have a sip.” The water was cool and refreshing to Nathan’s sore throat, but it didn’t erase his questions. “Where am I?” He demanded. “What happened?” Mr. Myles bit his lip before putting the glass down and sitting on the armchair nearby. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. It sounds crazy.” Nathan huffed out an annoyed breath. “I fell through the ground into a pumpkin patch owned by a scarecrow who just so happens to be the friendly old man who lives up the street.” He summed up. “I’m in pain and I want to go home. Just tell me what’s going on!” Mr. Myles seemed to be battling with himself for a moment longer before he sighed. “This is Autumn Hollow…A village that’s existed below yours for centuries…It’s another world, of sorts. The hole you fell in was a portal. I don’t know how you found it, usually, it’s closed.” “I was walking through your patch…” “I closed up yesterday morning, though, son. Shouldn’t you be trick or treatin’?” Nathan shrugged and winced. “I was passing through. Clearing my head.” It was definitely more than that. But he wasn’t about to dump his whole home life on what was essentially a stranger. Luckily, a quick knock on the door saved him from having to explain. Mr. Myles got up to greet the doctor and soon he was leading in an elderly woman in a black apron. She looked nice enough with her grey hair curling around her ears under a wide-brimmed black hat. When she saw Nathan tense with pain on the couch, her face fell. “Oh you poor dear,” She set a heavy bag down on the coffee table with a thud and pulled a square cloth from her pocket. Nathan could only lay there as she dabbed at the pumpkin goop drying on his face. “Ma’am, are you a doctor?” He asked hesitantly. “Oh, sweet child. I’m better than a doctor,” She smiled reassuringly. “I’m a witch!” “Can you help me?” Nathan pleaded. He had seen so much already and frankly he wasn’t in the mood to dispute the logistics of an old woman being a witch while laying on a couch belonging to a scarecrow. “I’m in a bit of pain.” Immediately, the witch nodded. “I’ll fix you right up, baby. We gotta let the cauldron boil.” What followed was a series of terrifying events all leading up to an anticlimactic finish. As the unseen cauldron started to boil, the witch disappeared into the kitchen with Mr. Myles leaving Nathan a mere 20ft away. “Myles hand me your eyes of newt.” “Lucky I picked some up not too long ago.” “Now we add the spider legs…” “We need the plan to get him home. You know I can’t tote him through town.” “Spider. Legs. Myles.” “Right, apologies.” “I could have sworn I brought some snake fangs…” “Right here. So what do you think we should do?” “Hmm…You have a half-sister, don’t you? The one married to the Count?” “So?” “Say he’s your nephew. Problem solved.” “You’re missing the moon drops-” “Don’t tell me how to brew!” “Well- I can’t say he’s my nephew! Nobody would believe that even if he could pass as their son, why would she let him visit now?” “It’s none of their business. Just say he’s your nephew and move on.” “But he can’t pass for Hollow Folk, Debs.” This bickering continued until Nathan felt as if his stomach was turning inside out. After all, goat’s tears?! No way he was drinking that. He’d rather suffer. But when Mr. Myles and the witch returned, she wasn’t holding some disgusting concoction in a glass bottle. Rather, she held a plain white mug with a mountain of what looked like whipped cream and chocolate shavings. The cherry on top was a cookie wafer straw sticking up through the foam. “Okay, baby. I made you some nice hot cocoa to help you feel better.” Immediately Nathan looked at her with mistrust. There was no way that came from those ingredients. But she only looked at him with gentle regard. “Come on, son. You don’t want it to get cold.” Very hesitantly, he took the mug, wincing as Myles propped up pillows behind him to sit up. Nathan sniffed the mug, but only smelled sweet chocolate and whipped cream. He licked the whipped cream peak and found it to be exactly as he remembered it to taste. His reservations slowly disappeared when he took the wafer straw into his mouth and took the tiniest sip. It was hot chocolate. Warm, sweet, creamy even. Not even burning hot considering how quickly they had brought it out to him. As he took another, deeper sip, he realized his aches and pains were starting to melt away. Breathing was getting easier. His knee throbbed less and less before halting completely. Each sip of the delicious liquid made him feel warm and soft. Before he knew it, the mug was empty. Even the whipped cream had melted into the cocoa and he crunched the softened wafer straw before putting the mug on the coffee table. “Feel better?” The witch asked and Nathan nodded. “Thank you, ma’am,” Because he had manners. “Oh, please,” The witch sat down on the couch beside him, ignoring the pumpkin goop smeared on the cushion. “Call me Debbie.” Nathan gave her a gentle smile before Mr. Myles’ throat cleared. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, son, but we have to get you home before nightfall.” “We’ve already discussed it, Myles. He’ll play your nephew and you can get him to the return portal!” Debbie groaned. “I can make him look like Hollow Folk if it makes you feel better, but it’s not as big of a deal as you say.” “Whatever gets me home.” Nathan agreed readily. Myles ran a hand over his face, somehow ditching his gloves when Nathan didn’t notice. “What if my sister hears?” “Then you can explain. She’d understand. She’s not as uppity as you make her seem. She was a small farm town girl at one point.” Debbie seemed determined, rooting through her heavy bag. “I have just the thing too.” As she was searching, Myles pulled on his burlap sack once more. It was a strange sight to see as it contoured to his face looking identical to him now that Nathan wasn’t panicking. Debbie hummed triumphantly as she pulled out what looked to Nathan to be a set of plastic vampire fangs. The kind that came with a cheap vampire costume and made it hard to talk. He wasn’t sure of the intelligence of the Hollow Folk, but a simple set of plastic fangs couldn’t possibly fool them. Debbie, understanding his confusion, pointed to Myles. “It’s like his mask, son. This will disguise you well enough to fool anyone in town. Pop them in, and bite down as hard as you can. Be prepared to adjust.” Nathan had no idea what adjust meant but he took the fangs anyway and slipped them into his mouth. Before he bit down, Debbie stood. “I’ll get the sink ready for a bath.” He dismissed her words as more magical nonsense and bit down as hard as he could. A rush of warmth overtook his body. It almost felt like the drop of a roller coaster and his back met the soft pillows. Opening his eyes that he didn’t know he closed, Nathan took in the sight of the cottage. What was originally a dimly lit, the worn-down cottage was now a rich, homely environment. There were motes of light casting soft shadows around the room and he couldn’t help but stare. “The improved eyesight is a pretty good deal,” Myles noted and Nathan was startled upon realizing Myles towered over him so harshly. ‘Give me space!’ He tried to say, but what came out was a high-pitched slur. “Spay!” “Spuh-” He stuttered. “Spay!” “Easy there, son,” Myles reached for Nathan and lifted him off the couch by his underarms. “The magic goes by your spiritual maturity. Relax and let me get you home.” Nathan ignored him. “Me dow’! No!” He squirmed as he was carried to the kitchen, just as cozy and lit as the living room. And Debbie had filled a large farm sink with sweet lavender-scented suds. “Let’s get that pumpkin guts off him. I’ll bathe him while you find him something to wear?” Nathan was stripped much to his protest and deposited into the sink. To his horror, he fit inside. He felt tears fill his eyes as he looked up at Debbie. “Noo!” He warbled. Looking down at his hands. They were small and chubby, little clumsy sausages gripping the edge of the sink. “Baby,” Debbie cooed, running a warm cloth down his back. “The sooner we get you clean the sooner you can go home.” “No’ baby!” Nathan pouted, pushing the suds in rebellion as tears started to dribble. “Wan’ go ‘ome!” “You will,” Debbie promised. “Trust me.” He cried through the entire fiasco that was the bath and even harder as Debbie wrapped him in a fluffy red towel to dry while Myles hunted for clothes. “That man,” Debbie huffed the longer he took. “Grab anything and I’ll shrink it down!” Myles returned soon enough with a handful of garments. First was a billowy nightshirt in impeccable condition. Not a spec of dirt or wear which happened to be a sharp contrast to the entire home. The second was a rectangle of fabric. “This was my sister’s growing up,” He held out the nightshirt. “And I figure this…Is necessary.” He held out the fabric. “Oh, my my,” Debbie said with a pleasant smile. “He’ll look so adorable. Like a little Pumpkin Prince should!” She grabbed the garments and held a squirming Nathan over to Myles while she shrunk them to size. Myles bounced Nathan slightly, trying to cheer him up. “You’re gonna go home, kiddo. We’ll go right after we get you dressed.” Nathan’s cries ceased from exhaustion once the clothes were ready. Debbie slipped the nightshirt over his head and tied the neckline in a neat bow. His humiliation increased as he realized the strip of fabric was in fact a diaper. But it was an old-school sort. The kind that was done up with safety pins Debbie had no trouble conjuring out of thin air and secured the diaper on. “There we go, Viscount Dracul.” She spoke in a heavily accented tone before scooping him into her arms and encouraging him to lean against her shoulder. “Let’s go then.” And Nathan watched as Myles packed a small canvas bag with various items. A blanket, a stuffed pumpkin plush, and an umbrella which most definitely shouldn’t have fit in the bag but did. “Remember, Nathan. I’m your uncle. Your mommy and daddy let you stay with me for the day and now we’re sending you home. You are 18 months old and you’re very tired after a long day of playing.” “M’tay.” Nathal gave a shuddered breath. It wouldn’t be too hard to pretend to be exhausted, he thought. Boy was he wrong as they stepped out into the front yard. If the inside of the cottage was straight out of a movie, the outside view was an otherworldly vision. Myles’ cottage sat on top of a large hill overlooking an entire village. The village was abuzz with sights. Quaint little houses all as cozy and homely as Myles lined up along a grid of walkways. But the further out the walkways went, the more the town changed. It was as if it were one big carnival. The music carried through the air, wrapping around Nathan’s mind and luring him in. He could smell the sweetness of caramel apples and kettle corn. “Head down, baby,” Debbie instructed softly. The trio walked (well Nathan was carried) down the hill to the entrance of the town. Chatter could be heard all around. They didn’t make it far before a chirp-like voice called out to them. “Mr. Myles! We’ve been looking for you,” Nathan turned his head to see a rather short creature with the head of a raven approaching. “We need another judge for the pumpkin carving contest!” “I wish I could, Cork, but I need to get this little guy home.” “Oh?! Who is this?” They asked stepping up to Debbie. “My nephew,” Myles said quickly. “Really we have to go. His mother wants him home before nightfall. And he’s already so sleepy. You know how babies are-” The bird creature gave a pleasant tweet as it held its hands-wings? Up to Debbie to receive the child. “Let me get a looksie!” Nathan watched Mr. Myles give Debbie a look as she bent over and handed Nathan over. “He doesn’t look so sleepy to me,” Cork trilled while looking Nathan over. “What’s his name?” “Uh..” Myles’ eyes shifted back and forth to get an idea. “Nathaniel.” Cork nodded and Nathan felt a delicate feather pressing his chin down slightly. He let out a noise of discontentment and Cork let him go quickly. “Such a strong name. And I can see his fangs poking through he’s gonna be a heartthrob for the ladies. I can already tell!” Cork handed Nathan back to Debbie as he started to squirm. “You should bring him ‘round to Martha. She’d love to meet him!” “I would, but-” “Martha!” Cork cawed through the air. Pretty soon a whole horde of Hollow Folk came to get an eyeful of Mr. Myles’ nephew Nathaniel. And with them came gifts. Nathan couldn’t help but preen at the attention even if some of the Hollow Folk made his tiny heart clench at the sight of them. They were all quite nice from their first impression. He didn’t know which one had deposited a sunflower crown on his head, but it made him feel special nonetheless. One woman in a similar, newer-looking, black apron compared to Debbie’s came up with a small spoon food of orange-tinted puree. “Let’s see how the baby likes my pumpkin pie.” Nathan wasn’t one to turn down treats, especially if they were as delicious as the hot cocoa he was served before. The tiny spoon slipped into his mouth and he mushed the paste around with his clumsy tongue. It was miles better than the store-bought pies his mother tended to buy at the last moment for Thanksgiving. The filling filled his mouth with warmth and as he swallowed his bite, he couldn’t help but let out a gurgled giggle. “‘Ummy!” He tried to tell the woman who visibly melted at the sight of his joy. “Oh my stars, he loves it!” She cheered triumphantly. “Now, wait a minute,” A sweeter voice chimed in from the back of the crowd. “I want him to try mine!” “And mine!” Several more voices piped up and Nathan found himself the sole judge in a pie-baking contest. Debbie sat down on a bench made from woven fibers and a line of women wanting their pie judged filled in front of her. When each pie was tasted, and each woman gave a word of praise from his limited vocabulary (because each one, he swore, was the best pie he had ever tasted) he was handed a large blue ribbon. “Which one was the best?” Debbie encouraged him to pick. She even set him down on his feet to choose despite his bare feet. The ground was soft even for a child, tufts of grass not too long to trip, but long enough to cover the soil. He took one step forward towards the group. Nathan blinked at the group of women eagerly waiting to be chosen for the ribbon. This attention was as far different than before. He was the center of attention, but rather than doting on him, they were waiting for him to do something. It was all too familiar to his parents. Waiting for him to decide on a college, waiting for him to graduate, waiting for him to do something impressive. Eager to just get it over with, Nathan rushed over to the first woman, the youngest of the group, and handed her the ribbon. He didn’t wait for their response before he rushed to the nearest adult he recognized which just so happened to be Myles. Myles of course wasted no time scooping him up into his arms. Nathan buried his face into the rough texture of the flannel on Myles’ shoulder and held onto him tightly. “‘Ome. ‘Ome.” The revelry of the group seemed to dissipate as they realized their judge wasn’t as enthusiastic as before. “Oh no,” One baker cooed softly. “Did we scare him?” “No, no,” Myles was quick to assure. “Poor baby isn’t used to such a large crowd. He’s really looking forward to seeing his Mommy and Daddy again.” “Well, if Mary would bring him by once in a harvest moon he wouldn’t be so jumpy,” Someone scoffed. “But she’s pretty busy up in her ivory tower now, too busy to say hi to us hicks, huh?” “That’s my sister you’re talking about,” Myles warned. “She’s just been busy what with her work and now the baby-” Debbie took it as a great time to step in. “You all forget how old-school the Count is. He was around before we folk started to spread out. It took him and Mary a great deal of thinkin’ before they decided to let Myles keep the baby overnight.” She lied flawlessly. “Now instead of judging a first-time mom, we should all be thankful and show her her faith was not lost on us to show her baby boy a good time.” “But that can wait til the next trip!” Myles stepped in once more. “She only let me watch him for a few hours so we should get him back about now-” “Awww can’t it wait just a little longer?” Cork lamented. “We haven’t had a baby around since Tibby and Fibby were born!” “And that was over a decade ago!” “Next time,” Myles swore. “If I don’t get him back by nightfall, she’ll be so angry she won’t let me watch him again.” A gasp overtook the crowd as if he admitted to some heinous crime. And then it wasn’t so hard to walk through the village. People waved and cooed at Nathan but didn’t try to halt their path. A few times, they would hand the boy small trinkets and gifts which he accepted happily. A hand-carved wooden dog, a necklace with a bat on the end, and even a woven bracelet slipped onto his chubby wrist. Despite his fright from before, Nathan felt his heart sink the closer and closer they grew to an old white building with purple light emanating from stained glass panes. Was he ready to go home? Wouldn’t it be better to just stay here where people clearly wanted him around? He made a small noise of distress and Myles patted him on his back soothingly. “We’re almost there, bud. You’ll be home soon.” “Wha…” The baby stuttered, fingers dipping closer to his lips in nervousness. “I ‘tay?” He asked. “What is it?” Myles asked, pausing in his steps and looking at Nathan’s hidden face. “Wan’ ‘tay.” Nathan spoke clearer. Debbie chose then to pipe up. “I think he’s asking to stay, Myles.” At once, Myles’ face fell. “Oh, son,” “Wan’ ‘tay.” “You gotta go home, son. Your parents are probably wondering where you are. I already told the town you’re going home…Your place is up there,” Myles motioned to the dirt ceiling. “You’ll go home and eat dinner and…this will all just seem like a weird dream.” Tears sprouted in Nathan’s eyes as his lip quivered. “Nooo!” Myles didn’t know what it was like. Myles could just disappear down here where people liked him and forget about the outside world. His fists struck, thumping against Myles’ shoulder without force but the man kept walking. “Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing if he stayed,” Debbie piped up. “Just for a little while…” “Time moves differently up there, Debs,” Myles sighed. “Each night here is two months up there. He has a life and family up there. And we can’t keep him. Especially if my sister heard that I’ve been toting around a topsider as my nephew.” Nathan sobbed heaving breaths. If he went home, he’d have to go back to a family who barely cared about him. To friends too busy deciding their own futures to even spend the day with him. To the stack of transcripts and pamphlets on his desk demanding he decides what he was going to do when there wasn’t anything that interested him in the world. He wasn’t an athlete or a genius. He was just Nathan, a small-town boy who sometimes bagged groceries at the EZ Mart on the corner. What was there in the world for him when there was something so homely and soft right under his feet? Myles kept walking until he opened the door to the white building. He set Nathan down on the ground and Nathan found himself in a small room. The purple light came from an arched portal in the wall, swirling and glowing with energy. “Now all you have to do is walk through that portal and you’ll be home…” “Wan’ ‘tay!” Nathan said once more but Myles shook his head. “No, you don’t, buddy. You have a life you need to live…And I’ll still see you around occasionally. Maybe even come back to my patch next year and I’ll share a cup of cocoa with you.” Nathan looked up at Myles, his face crumbled and pleading. “You’re breaking my heart here, kid.” Myles sighed… “Go on…” Hands balled up in the fabric of his nightshirt, Nathan turned to the portal and ran through. Clearly, he wasn’t wanted… Nathan woke up on the cold hard ground with a gasp. Shooting up, he turned his head around to see that he was once more back in the pumpkin patch. He was in his old clothes free of any pumpkin guts and part of him wondered if he had just dreamed the entire thing. Tears bubbled in his eyes and he took a moment to cry at the loss. But as he went to stand, several things caught his eye. There in the grass was a sunflower flower crown, a hand-carved wooden dog a bracelet…and a plastic set of vampire fangs. Fishing around his neck, he felt the cold chain of a necklace as well. So it had happened… Gathering his trinkets, Nathan stood and had no other choice but to head home…He walked into the back door hoping to not be noticed, but his luck had always been terrible. “Nate? Is that you? Where have you been?!” His mother called out from the kitchen. “I haven’t seen you all day!” “I was over at Mike’s house…we were…looking at scholarships…” He lied quickly, already heading for the stairs and going up. “Well, we already ate dinner.” She called up to him. “Your plate’s in the fridge.” “Thanks, mom…” She left him alone after that and Nathan was free to hide away his new trinkets on his nightstand. He would lay in bed that night and dream about a world underground. People who looked odd, but had hearts made of gold. Being doted on. Being loved. He’d shed tears on his pillow, hoping one day he could go back.
  2. This is the first of a series in the “Trantreem Nanotechnology Universe” I hope you like it and give feedback! Chapter 1: The Cast Introduction Cast of Characters: Dr. Samantha Johnston - 26, single, short (4’11”), 30DD, long black hair (dyed from light blonde), dark skin tone (tans), wears smart suits with heels. Spends a lot of time and attention to look “adult” due to her small size. Insists she is in charge and even hired Amanda to feel like she can exercise control over a much taller woman. Snubs co-workers as they are mostly older (and more matronly) than she. Quickly earned her degrees and feels like she is smarter than most of her coworkers. Newly hired by the Tantreem Corporation as a project manager. Amanda - 23, single, tall 6’1” curvy secretary 38 DDD, medium length brown hair, natural skin tone, new hire Administrative Assistant to Dr Johnston. Dr. Janet Tantreemtamer (namesake of the company) 45, single, with a 12 year old live in niece, 5’7”, 34C, athletic build, very no-nonsense. Long auburn hair that is always kept pinned up perfectly. Medical Doctor with a concentration on nanotech. Sees everything as a project to “handle”. Maria Ponce Facility nurse, 38, married, 5’9” 36C, Long black hair kept in a curly style, average build, officially takes care of staff medical needs, unofficially assistant to Dr Tantreemtamer. Nice, but has a bit of a domineering personality. Mark Stone - IT manager, 25, stereotypical “geek”. 5’11”, Heavyset, desperate to have a girlfriend and thinks Samantha is the hottest woman on earth. Would do anything to see her in something besides work suits. Gina Belford - Office Manager, 59, wears business attire, pleasantly plump, grey hair shoulder length. Doesn’t like the new “boss”, likes to see rude people “get theirs”. Married, kids, and grandchildren. The “mother” of the office. Anita Green - Receptionist, 36, married with kids, casual Friday is everyday. Average build. Wendy Adams, Rebecca Jones, and Rachel Fitzroy - Staff members, works for Gina even though Dr. Johnston can’t seem to stop bossing them around. Wendy is 28, single, thin build blonde hair, tall. Rebecca is 32, married, thick build, African American, 5’8”, Rachel is 27, married, muscular build, very athletic, short brown hair.
  3. Hey! Welcome to the Lovington Effect. I hope you stick around for awhile. While writing Without Merit, I thought of a prequel for my prequel even though there isn't a sequel, or an actual story for that matter. However, Lover Boy takes place in the 1980s, and it was supposed to be a one-shot, then the music took over. And entirely different story came out. A warning though. This story is rougher than Without Merit, and is a lot darker. It also contains frequent mentions of a sexual assault. If that is big concern to you, there are other great stories on this site. All characters are over eighteen. Thanks for reading. 1: Private Eyes 2: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun 3: Every Breath you Take... 4: ... I'll be Watching You 5: You Spin me Round (Like a Record) 6: The Voice Beyond the Mirror 7: Total Eclipse of the Heart 8: The New Forever 9: The Baby Shower ————————- Lover Boy 1988 Part 1: Private Eyes Every girl in Lovington knew about Beau Taylor. He was a walking, talking cautionary tale; all too similar to Icarus, fly too close to his hotness and your heart was sure to melt. Senior quarterback for the varsity football team, muscular build, tight denim jeans. Notorious bad boy with good hair. What was there not to like? He had bedded a good number of the girls in school, and a good number of girls outside of school as well. No one from the female persuasion was safe from the ‘Lover Boy’. The upperclassmen hung out on the lawn after the final bell, finding spots among the green grass, on the side of the concrete stairs, or beneath the shade of a half a dozen oak trees that lined the side of the school. The football players laid claim to a grassy knoll that overlooked the parking lot. From their high perch, they would catcall and wolf-whistle at all the girls. Appreciating the angry looks from mothers and fathers who happened to pick up their blushing virginal daughters from high school. Beau found his friends already there, laid about the ground, lounging and laughing. His best friend, Sherrod, sat taller between a pair of reclining oversized humans known as offensive linemen, Monster and Handley. Sherrod was an incredible athlete like Beau, they shared the backfield as quarterback and running back. They also shared the same outfit that day. Black shirt, blue jeans and denim jacket, down to the same bright red Converse shoes. Beau slapped the back of his black friend to grab his attention, catching Sherrod by surprise. Loudly announcing his presence with, “How are you three queers doing?” The three supposed ‘queers’ laughed as they exchanged special handshakes without leaving the ground. Monster looked up and asked, “What’s up, Beau?” “Nothing besides my dick.” The quarterback handled his crotch through his jeans. They all laughed again. “No, seriously man,” Beau continued, “my johnson is a little tired, it had quite the weekend.” “No shit?” Sherrod flashed a curious smile. “No shit, my man. You know how I score on and off the field. I’m talking about Vanessa, Christine, and Holly. I’m talking about how I get busy!” Next came something of a pelvic thrust to make sure his friends picked up his subtle connotation. Handley appeared surprised. “I didn’t think Holly was the type for that kind of thing.” “That’s where you’re mistaken, tubby.” Beau corrected him. “All of the ladies are the type for the ‘Lover Boy’.” Sherrod groaned. “Come on, you don’t have to show us your ass again.” But it was already too late, the jeans and the BVDs were already mid-buttock, revealing his heart tattoo with the words ‘Lover Boy’ on his upper right cheek. They didn’t want to look, but a heart-shaped tattoo on a pasty white ass has the innate capacity to grab attention. “You need to stop showing everyone your butt,” Sherrod warned him after catching an eyeful. “People are going to think that you’re homo or something.” “Well, I’m not the one who keeps staring at my buns of steel. What does that say about you guys?” Beau intermittently flexed his cheeks side to side like an experienced male stripper in a speedo. Which caught the attention of a trio of girls just beyond the football players. He made sure to give them a wink when he was done pulling up his pants. Monster gave the girls a wink, too. But they laughed incredulously and turned away from him. Maybe the big guy needed a tattoo on his butt. Handley asked, “Beau, why are you even here with us lowly, car-less peons — where’s the firebird?” Beau shrugged his backpack further over his shoulder and looked away. “You know, the old Bird is in the shop, getting its oil changed.” This was a lie. He had totaled his muscle car early Sunday morning. Right after showing Vanessa the ‘Lover Boy’ in the backseat and sending her limping back to her parents. Also, right after downing a six pack of beer. His parents were more than a little pissed at him about the wrecked car, especially his tough-love mom. She said that there would be a few changes coming his way. A dire warning that Beau didn’t care to heed. Speaking of his mom, he saw her station wagon turn the corner. Beau rushed towards the getaway vehicle, waving at the dudes, blowing kisses to the ladies. He didn’t want anyone to see him getting into the car with his mom. He had a reputation to uphold. “See ya, losers.” Beau called back. “Catch you at practice tomorrow, and I’ll see you girls after the game.” He jogged down the hill to where the wagon ran idle at the curb. Beau didn’t even notice Vanessa in the front seat until he was literally right on top of the car. The surprising sight caused him to trip as he rocketed down the hill, his hurried stumbling and fall braced by the impact of the long wood-paneled hood of the station wagon. How had he not spotted her there? The loud blonde hair, the blinding pink halter top, and dangling earrings should have been noticed from the top of the hill, from over a block away, or the next county over. Beau played it off as being silly, he was good looking enough to get away with being a klutz if it looked like he did it on purpose. He comically stretched out over the hood of the car like a bikini model. Moment saved. Vanessa rolled down the window with the hand crank. “Beau, what the hell are you doing on your mom’s car?” Mmm. There was that tasty condescension that he loved about his girlfriend. If you could call it ‘going steady’, he and Vanessa were the closest thing to going steady. Obviously, it didn’t mean they were completely true to one another. “I have a better question,” Beau said as he pulled himself upright and back onto his feet. “What are you doing inside my mom’s car?” Vanessa did what she did best, dealing with his childishness by running a hand through her hair. The fake blonde, over done, hair-sprayed fashion statement was partially to blame for the hole in the o-zone layer. All joking aside, it wasn’t all bad to be with a girl like Vanessa. She did have her perks; two of them in fact, and they sat on her chest in the most beautiful fashion, straining the thin fabric of the pink halter top. Ten years ago, it would have been empowering for her not to even wear a bra. Suddenly, Beau dreamed of driving a Delorean and meeting a crazy guy named Doc. She leaned out the window. “Quit being stupid, I’m trying to run some errands with your mom.” Beau hesitated outside of the car. “Errands? Where are you guys heading?” His mom turned from the driver seat, her thick glasses captured the light in a weird way. It made her eyes look all funny. “We need to pick up a few things from ‘Ma’ Webber’s for a baby shower.” Mrs. Taylor lit the cigarette between her lips. “Baby shower?” Beau grinned. “I hope I’m not going to be a daddy.” He winked at Vanessa who lightly tousled her hair again to dismiss his stupidity. Vanessa answered matter-of-factly, “You won’t be.” He was in the back of the station wagon without any fuss, leaning over the front seat without a seatbelt, and bothering Vanessa as much as he could with his mom present. That only lasted a few minutes, as Vanessa didn’t seem to care for Beau, or his presence, or his flirtatious sense of humor. Recognizing a lost cause, Beau finally gave up. The radio played a fuzzy tune, the tired speakers in doors kicked out the whinging guitars of Hall and Oates. The song was called 'Private Eyes'. Private Eyes they're watching you they see your every move Private Eyes they're watching you Private Eyes they're watching you watching you watching you watching you Beau drummed along with the beat with his fingers. The car strolled down main street, past the city park, slowing as it went by the old government lab just outside the center of town. You play with words you play with love you can twist it around baby that ain't enough cause I'm gonna know if you're letting me in or letting me go don't lie when you're hurting inside 'cause you can't escape my Private Eyes He settled on chilling against the vinyl seat, trying to put together why he even bothered with Vanessa in the first place. Then he reminded himself of exactly two reasons ‘why’. As he leaned back, he looked out the side window as the station wagon came to a stop in front of a house, not a baby store. Beau instantly recognized the house. It’s where he picked up Christine last Friday night; before he showed her the ‘Lover Boy’ in the back of the movie theatre. Oh boy, did Vanessa know about Christine? Because Christine knew about Vanessa, and she told Beau that she didn’t care if he already had a girlfriend. He watched in horror as Christine came out of the house and approached the passenger side with a brooding look, her jaw set and her eyes forward like living was an awful chore. She went by Christine, not ever Chrissy, you’d get popped in the mouth for calling her that. And she was the typical punk rock type, a metal head, a headbanger. Always wore black clothing, black jeans, ripped t-shirt, short cropped black hair. Even the leather fingerless gloves were black, and they looked great against her ivory skin. Multiple piercings in each ear, multiple studs in her leather jacket. She gave off a lot of that ‘look but don’t touch’ kind of vibe. But that didn’t keep away the ‘Lover Boy’. Beau could see past the rough exterior, which was easy to do since he’d more than once seen her naked. Her skinny pale figure had the slightest of curves at her breasts and hips, and was something to die for in the dark. Her bodacious body was worth all of the trouble that it came with, even if it drew the ire of the tempestuous blonde riding up front. Christine spoke to Vanessa. “You guys are running a little late, Vanessa. I just called Holly to tell her we were on our way.” Beau choked. “Holly, too?” Not her. Anyone but her. The girls turned his way and gave him a condescending glare to prove how much they were planning on ignoring him. Vanessa addressed Christine as coldly as a suspicious lover. “Thanks for coming with us, Christine. It wouldn’t happen any other way. She wanted us all to be there.” “Who? What?” Beau sounded the alarm. Vanessa interrupted him. “Beau, sweetie, us grown-ups are trying to talk.” Grown-ups? Sweetie? Her name calling had certainly been toned down this afternoon. Normally, Vanessa called him every four and five letter word that could make a sailor blush. “We got to motor if we want to make it on time,” Vanessa continued, undeterred. “Hop in the back with little Beau, and we can be on our way.” Christine was already pulling her seatbelt over her chest before they got moving again. She asked, “What took you guys so long?” “Beau was all about dry humping the hood like Tawny Kitaen,” explained Vanessa. “I wasn’t dry humping anything,” complained Beau. “Sure, you weren’t.” Christine tapped his cheek with a belittling soft touch. He slid to the bottom of his seat as Christine settled down next to him. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. It felt like calamity was knocking at the door, and all he could do was hide behind the curtains. Beau didn’t want to go to Holly’s house, see Holly’s face, or share the same planet as Holly. There were reasons why he wasn’t as proud of his conquest of Holly as he was Christine and Vanessa. It could be scratched up to miscommunication. He’d leave it at that. They had to check the addresses when they pulled up to Holly’s street, because all of the houses in the neighborhood looked the same. This one had a real quaint cottage appeal, a real copycat of the house next door and the one next door to that. Vanessa spotted little Holly on the porch-swing in front of her house, just rocking back and forth in a slow, melancholy way. She wasn’t taking this well, some girls don’t after getting the ‘Lover Boy’. Holly was demure, mousy little thing in round glasses. A naive brunette that always wore cheap dresses that looked ripped straight out of Little House on the Prairie. She liked puppies, kittens, rainbows and ponies, they were all over her Lisa Frank trapper keeper. She was so childish and innocent, and Beau — Beau gritted his teeth. He growled, “Why does she have to come with us?” Christine recoiled. “Whoa, Beau. What’s crawled up your butt?” “I just don’t fucking — I mean, I just don’t like her, she’s super weird, a real psycho like in that Carrie movie.” Mrs. Taylor waved a bony finger at her son. “Young man, you need to do a better job of watching your mouth, or I’ll pull this car over.” Beau slammed the front seat with an overhead swing from both of his hands. “We’re already pulled over, mom! Quit being such an idiot all the time.” Christine put a hand on his shoulder to calm him, but he rebuffed her touch with an angry shrug. “Beau, you don’t have to spaz out on your mom like that.” It was just so strange. All of these women in the same place was doing things to his mind. Making him think about things, and Beau didn’t like to think about things. Reflection was only for mirrors, not for Beau Taylor. He wouldn’t reflect on what happened this weekend, he wouldn’t think about it at all. His knuckles were in his mouth, stifling a tiny internal scream. He was still deep in his non-reflection when the car door opened. Holly was there, but her usual braces-filled smile was noticeably missing, and something cold and callous filled its place. No, she wasn’t taking the ‘Lover Boy’ treatment very well at all. He still greeted her, pretending to be all friendly-like even if he knew they weren’t friends. “What’s happening, Holly?” Beau tried to mend the fence, but it looked beyond repair. “Oh, hi Beau,” Holly replied, nasally and snarky. “When did you start sucking your thumb like a baby?” He didn’t even realize his hand was already back in his mouth. Beau quickly yanked it away, pretending to scratch his chin, or anything besides sucking his thumb. His frazzled response very much the opposite of being the ‘Lover Boy’. “I’m not sucking my thumb, I was just —“ Holly interrupted, “Sucking your fingers?” Mrs. Taylor weighed in on the subject as she put the car into gear. “My baby Beau always had an oral fixation. When he wasn’t on a bottle, he was on a pacifier. Took a damn long while to kick that habit.” His mom frowned as she flicked the ash free from her cigarette out the rolled down window. Christine giggled, “Oh, really.” “That explains a lot actually,” Vanessa added. “His obsession with certain things, am I right Christine?” “You’re right, can’t keep his mouth off of them.” Vanessa scowled towards the backseat in the overhead rear view mirror. At both Beau and Christine. What were these girls doing? Talking about ‘Lover Boy’ things in front of his mom! You didn't do that to a guy. He wasn't one to be afraid of a little innuendo, but there was a time and place to be sexual, and this wasn't it. That kind of talk was best saved for the backseat of the Bird, or the row furthest from the screen where no one could see or hear. Or in a restroom at her parent's restaurant. No. Why couldn't he block that out? He couldn't push that out of his mind like he wanted. It stuck around like a bad smell, as soon as it left his mind, it found its way back like a boomerang. Beau searched about the car for someone to take his side, but no one came to his defense. He suddenly felt exposed, and he didn’t like it one bit. “You’re all just trying to be funny, like I’m sucking my thumb right before we go shopping for a baby shower. What are you going to do? Buy me a pacifier? Goo-goo, gaa-gaa.” He expected them to laugh, especially when he broke into the baby talk. They just stared at him, as empty of mirth as a funeral. “You’re starting to get the right idea,” Holly laughed. Then the whole car laughed. In unison. Things were getting sorta weird around here, and Beau had enough of being outnumbered by their little hen party. There was far too much estrogen in the air, he had to puff his hairy chest to counter all the womanly energy. Something to do with aligning of the moon and the coordination of their monthly cycles. Deep thinking stuff. “Who’s this baby shower for, anyways?” Beau shot back with some swagger. “I’d like to know which one of you got knocked up.” The car went silent again. He shrugged like the Fonz. “What? Was it something I said?” Vanessa sighed, “Quit being such a wastoid, Beau.” Holly asked, “Why do you need to know?” The mousy girl spoke in a distant way as her eyes traced the world outside the window. Beau tried to explain his logic to the helpless females. “If I’m being dragged along on some crazy shopping trip, I’d at least like to know a few simple things. Like, is it for a baby boy or a baby girl?” His mom cleared her throat. “It’s for a boy. A sweet little boy.” Beau pushed the smoke away as his mom exhaled. It stung his eyes. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?” Vanessa said. “Nope,” Beau coughed, he didn’t care if he was being belligerent. “Why are you guys all together, who do you all know?” Holly snapped, "We all know you." “What’s that supposed to mean?” Beau asked. Oh, man. This deep thinking stuff hurt his brain. Okay. Maybe Holly knew about Christine, because Christine knew about Vanessa, and he was pretty sure Vanessa now knew about Christine. However, no one knew about what happened between him and Holly. That was a secret. A mistake. The mousy girl should know when it was her turn to keep her mouth shut like he told her. Beau clenched his fists until his knuckles popped. “You’ll find out soon enough,” Holly answered when she finally turned his way. The wood paneled station wagon pulled into the large gravel and dirt parking lot. The large and lonely store had more of a warehouse look than a home to retail. It sat like an empty island in the middle of nowhere. It was just a short drive from Lovington, but felt like a more different domain, and had a different feel about the whole thing. A long faded tarp was stretched across the front windows. A mainsail that billowed in the mild breeze that also kicked up a bit of dust. On the tarp was a handwritten message in what he guessed was shoe polish: Welcome to Webber’s Open at our new location Now with more influence Now with more inspiration However, the baby store was far from a ghost town. Dozens of workers in white overalls shuffled boxes around like drones with orders specifically from the queen. There was sawdust all around the door, he could even see the tell-tale signs of new construction from far away. Beau looked around at the chaos. "Is this place even open yet?" "It is by appointment," Holly commented as she opened the car door. She quickly caught onto his reluctance. "What? Are you afraid of going into a baby store? I thought you were some kind of tough guy." Beau shook his head. Stay ahead of this, and don’t let her get to you. "I'm not scared, it's just weird. What kind of bogus baby store needs an appointment to go buy diapers? Don’t babies use them all the time?” “Always on about the diapers,” Christine commented. “As if babies didn’t do anything besides pee and poop. Men are so clueless sometimes, am I right?” “Back off Christine,” Beau cracked. “I’m just trying to make conversation.” Vanessa was already outside of the car. "No need to get all defensive, baby Beau." That was it. They had challenged his masculine superiority, and if they started into this baby nonsense, they would never stop. He had to get ahead of this. Yeah, he was notoriously childish. Yeah, he was outnumbered. Yeah, the girls were acting kind of weird. Yeah, he was running out of yeahs. He'd overpower them with his powerful personality, let the 'Lover Boy' show. Well, not that ‘Lover Boy’. He'd get arrested for showing that off in this — empty parking lot. They were the only car there. No other customers, judging by the size of the building, for a huge department store. There were big moving trucks in the front, but those belonged to the workers. The same could be said about a small row of vans and sedans parked along the backside of the store. How had he just now noticed the empty lot? There was a cloudy feeling in his head. He tried to shake it off. He'd felt this way before, it felt like a hangover, but he hadn’t had anything to drink since wrecking the firebird. No. It reminded him of getting his ‘bell rung’ while playing football. Which was ‘coach speak’ for taking a bad shot to the helmet, which was bad news because his head was in there. A hard tackle could send his brain ricocheting inside his skull, resulting in subtle, temporary brain damage. The world would ring for a few minutes, or longer; and you were supposed to shake it off, not let it bother you, and battle the headache that sometimes lasted for days. That’s what it felt like, confusing, foggy headed, and hard to focus. Beau pulled at the inside handle of the car door, hoping the fresh air would alleviate all of this cloudiness. He pulled at the handle, and the door didn't move. He wiggled his hand to re-grip, and then he tried again. No. He roughly grabbed it with both hands and started violently shaking it back and forth. "You coming or not, Beau?" Holly leaned into the doorway from her side of the car. "It's just this fuc-, I mean this stupid door." He tempered his language for his angry mother, who was already working on her next cigarette outside. That habit was going to be her death, and maybe not soon enough. "You can always come out my side," Holly offered. "NO! I'm going through this. banging. door!" Beau knew he was being irrational, it was all irrational. His head felt hot as he strained against the unrelenting station wagon. He needed to show off his strength and beat this unopenable door, pop it open like a pickle jar for these women. That would get them to leave him alone. Christine waited just outside the car, watching his pathetic attempts through the window before figuring out the hold up, and opening the door from the outside. "That's the problem,” Christine observed. “It looks like the child lock was accidentally engaged. No need to throw a hissy fit, Beau." “It wasn’t a hissy fit,” Beau argued as he stepped outside and flipped his jacket collar. “Throwing a temper tantrum like a toddler, maybe Beau needs a timeout.” Vanessa giggled at her own joke. “Or he could use a spanking,” Christine added. Roll with the punches, Beau. Let them have their laughs, they were laughing with him, and not at him, right? There really wasn’t a difference, it’s what the dweebs told themselves to make themselves feel better about being dweebs. He calmed himself as the group set off towards the store. It wasn’t worth making a scene, he already made a fool of himself with the stupid door, with the stupid child lock. How had that thing been engaged? There hadn’t been a baby in the backseat in almost two decades, and Beau was an only child with no little cousins in the family tree. "You're going to want to behave yourself here," Holly warned as they all made their way across the dirt parking lot. "I've heard some strange stories about Elizabeth Webber. Also known as 'Ma'." "Like what?" Beau hurried to walk even with the smaller girl. "The first being that she's really into old school discipline, one of those grannies that still believes that humiliation is the best teacher." Holly actually sounded close to admiring this woman, Beau made it a point to steer clear of someone like she was describing. Mrs. Taylor whispered, "Maybe she can be the one to fix Beau." "What was that, mom?" Beau turned on his mother. "Do you think there's something wrong with me?" She didn't have to answer. He didn’t want to be the one to admit that his mom was right. There was something wrong with him. A dark part of him that did something wrong, that couldn't handle how wrong he went, and Beau knew it. That mistake with that mousy girl. Forever wiping the smile off her face every time she saw him. Being the 'Lover Boy' had its drawbacks. He couldn't hide behind the ultra-confident persona when Holly was around. Why was she even here? Why was he even here? He could just walk away, but he found his feet leading him to the store instead of the fledgling sunset. “And the second?” Beau’s curiosity was getting the better of him. “About ‘Ma’ Webber?” Holly pretended to be surprised. “Well, let’s just say if you act like a child, she'll treat you like one. So try to act your age for once.” Vanessa giggled. “Lay off the threatening, Holly. He’ll find out soon enough.” Beau asked, “Find out what?” “About the true meaning of diaper discipline,” Christine finished the conversation. Then she glared at Beau. He stopped with his mouth open, the girls didn’t really mean what they were saying. This had to be a prank, a way to mess with his head. And it was working. The girls continued inside while Beau hung around in the parking lot, going over the building one last time before joining them. The workers that hustled around him didn’t talk as they removed products from the backs of a pair of large white trucks, sometimes one at a time, for bigger things they worked in twos. He had to move to the side as two of the gruff men in faded white overalls and white hats pulled a huge car seat from the store, heading past him towards the parking lot. Beau stopped to watch the men struggle with big plastic safety-chair. Then he finally realized what the workers reminded him of, Oompa-Loompas. These guys were like a cross-breed between a biker gang and Oompa-Loompas. Except the little orange fellas sang as they worked, these guys only wore a scowl for their minimum wage. Still, the size of that carseat was something he couldn't get over. It looked like it could sit an adult, the various straps and buckles seemed thicker as well. It reminded him of a strait jacket, and it gave him the Heebie-jeebies. "Dude, did you guys catch the size of that carseat?" No one heard him. The girls were already inside, meeting Miss Elizabeth ‘Ma’ Webber, collecting a shopping list, and deciding how to best split the load. They had to get ready for a baby shower tonight.
  4. Brian sighed as he swiped through paperwork, marking a BJ on the bottom of each line. No, not–his initials, Brian Jeremy. Get your mind out of the gutter. He’d received the email on a Saturday morning, which was already obnoxious. Work communication should stay between nine to five unless it’s an emergency, but apparently ‘Corporate mandated sensitivity training’ was required on weekends, and damn the work schedule. Good news was, it didn’t require him to leave his office. The TotalVerse headset he’d been supplied by corporate was good for all sorts of meetings, and far more convenient than driving in to meet in person. He had logged in, opened his work email from ‘HRCorporate at Gmail.com’, and tabbed into the meeting room. It looked like a generic school classroom–it even had him seated at a personal desk, though nobody else had come in yet. And then came the paperwork. The ungodly boring paperwork. A whole stack of releases. He’d read the first two pages, but they were stock pablum that almost seemed AI generated. Why corporate required this was beyond him, but Brian continued initialing and tabbing through consent forms. Finally done, he waited, assuming someone else would show up, that maybe he’d spawn into a populated room now that he’d finished the writing. Nobody else in attendance did show up, but after a moment, a woman in a black dress did walk in through the door. “Hello there–you’re here for the training, yes?” she asked. “I do, though I really don’t see the point of this,” Brian said. “Did something happen at the office?” “New policy,” she said, navigating around his question deftly without giving any helpful information. “Have you done direct neural training before?” “No, I heard that wasn’t out of beta yet,” Brian said. “It seems cool–just run the program, and then ‘I know kung fu’, but aren’t there still some testing issues that need worked out?” She raised an eyebrow, smirking at him. “You didn’t read the consent forms?” He blinked. “No, but–” “Program, activate,” she said. A wave of neural force struck Brian, and he slumped back in his chair. His whole body took on a pins-and-needles feeling, and his thoughts grew weak and faint as new information flowed into his brain. He was vaguely aware of the woman crossing to him, cradling his head against her chest so that he wouldn’t thrash, and then his vision blurred too much to see. It might have been a minute, or five, before he felt his faculties return. “Jesus christ–” he started. “Warning? Please? You couldn’t have given me a-auh…uh…” Groaning, he shifted in his chair, alarmed to suddenly feel intense arousal beneath his virtual jeans. Just shifting, the intensity was enough to make him suddenly, helplessly spurt into his boxers. The woman stood over him and laughed. “I didn’t introduce myself before,” she said, reaching down and cupping his chin with her hand. Turning him to look at her as he finished dribbling into his underwear, she said, “My name is Daemon, and you’re mine now.” “What the hell?” he yelped, pulling away, stumbling out of his desk, scrambling to his feet. There was a visible wet spot on his jeans, and he could feel his cock brush against slick wet fabric, already growing hard again. “I’m calling HR–” “I’m not with the company, silly,” Daemon said, grinning at him. He saw her canines extend to fangs, and little horns protrude from her hair as VR body mods became visible on her. “You’re just too gullible to tell phishing emails from real–don’t they teach security awareness at your office?” Oh no, Brian realized. “What–what was in those consent forms?” “You waived the safety features and let me run some mental reprogramming,” Daemon told him. “And, fun fact–the effects persist outside of VR. You can take off your headset, you’ll still be programmed just as I made you.” He swallowed. “What did you do?” “Nothing I can’t undo,” she said. “You’ve heard of ransomware? Consider this the ultimate virus–I hit you with a nasty little combination, but I can take it back for the right price.” Throat dry, hands shaking, Brian Jeremy tried to think what to do. “Just tell me what you did.” She laughed. “This is sensitivity training, after all–so I increased your sensitivity. Good luck trying to navigate your job with cummy pants all the time, you’re going to dribble so much you just won’t be able to make it without protection.” Daemon stepped around the student’s desk, leering at him. “Which is what’s so nasty about it.” Brian didn’t understand what she meant, but he followed the logic chain. If he wanted to contain his… eh, his accidents, he’d need something like a diaper… A thick, crinkly diaper, wrapped around his waist, just waiting for him to crouch down and push– “Uh-uh–” he started, groaning as the mere thought caused him to twitch and spurt beneath his pants. “That’s right,” Daemon giggled, circling around him. “The medicine’s also the poison. I implanted a dirty little fetish that practically overwrites your sex drive–you’re just going to love humiliating yourself. I’ll be surprised if you can help the need to fill up your diapers the instant you get some, and the moment you do, well–” She looked down, where the cummy wet stain spread on the front of his pants. “We’ve already seen how you react to just thinking about it.” He shook his head. The image she’d suggested–even having just spurted, he found his sex drive rallying yet again, ready for another round at the thought. “How much?” he asked. “How much to put it back?” “Ten thousand dollars,” Daemon replied. “And that’s a bargain in exchange for your dignity–but, to make sure you don’t try and fix this any other way, I’ve done one last thing.” Terrified of what it might be, Brian shook his head. “I don’t even want to know.” “Obedience,” she said, simply. “Call it a compulsion to obey. So when I say I want you to get on your knees and imagine yourself in a diaper, you’re going to do it.” Brian dropped to his knees. His thoughts filled with humiliating, degrading, utterly hot concepts–wrapping himself up in a diaper, grinding in it, feeling it grow heavy and wet as he used it–he didn’t know how many of his fantasies were even physically possible, he’d have to test, to experiment– Reaching out, he called up his VR menu, rapidly scrolling through menus. He worried Daemon would stop him, but she only laughed when she saw what he was doing, going through clothing options and purchasing a disposable diaper to add to his Totalverse inventory. Using the menu to apply it to himself, swapping out his jeans in exchange for the new diaper, he moaned loudly, kneeling in front of Daemon as he came again, this time soaking into the front of his new diaper. Panting for breath, he tried to collect his thoughts, but the universe of horny energy that floated around his quivering cock took all his attention. He couldn’t think, he just wanted to start rutting again. “I–” he started. “Why not just demand I send you the money?” he asked, looking up at Daemon. “Because,” she replied. “This is so much more fun. I’m not in it for the money, I’m in it to watch, to see which reality you prefer–the one where you’re ten thousand dollars poorer, or the one where your only satisfaction comes from sticky, smelly diapers.” Just those final words sent him into another round of spurting spasms. He wondered how much one diaper would take, how long the padding would last before he needed to change his diaper… “Just turn the sensitivity down,” he pleaded. Daemon hesitated, looming over him. “What was that?” “I’ll stay like this,” he said. “It’s–I can stay like this, I just need the sensitivity lower, low enough that I can function.” She tilted her head, surprised at the result. “Why should I do that, though?” Biting his lip, John got to his feet. “You wanted to watch, so–fuck–” he took a breath, trying to keep his focus long enough to finish the sentence, but the burning arousal he felt almost took his attention away. “I–I don’t have the money.” “I’ll tell you what,” she said, circling around him, reaching down to squeeze the back of the diaper that’d replaced his cummy jeans. “First, fill this.” He couldn’t disobey, even if he’d wanted to. Knees bending, Brian Jeremy did what would have been unthinkable thirty minutes ago, drooling with pleasure as he pushed a solid mass into his diaper. Even in the VR setting, it felt utterly real, mush swelling his diaper’s seat, and as soon as his nose caught the faintest whiff, he stumbled forward, catching himself on the nearest desk as another orgasm rocked him. Daemon snickered. “Alright. Here.” Waving her hand, she conjured a menu display in front of him. Tabbing through a few options, she said, “Brace yourself.” The rush of mental reprogramming ran over him, and he shuddered as his thoughts fuzzed. It didn’t seem to last as long this time, and when his senses returned, he was panting against the desk. “What did you do?” he asked. “I removed the cap,” she said. “You’re just as sensitive as you were before, but you’ve got room to retrain yourself now. Enough practice, and you should be desensitized enough to waddle around in your diapers without spurting every twenty seconds.” He panted for breath. It was too much. Even now, just bent over in a full, cum-soggy diaper, he just wanted to start humping the desk in front of him for another round. “How much practice?” She tapped her chin with a finger. “I’d take a few days off work. You’ve got training to do.” He nodded. “Thank–no, wait. Fuck you. I don’t–” His emotions were roiled up, and he couldn’t decide what the appropriate response was here, to such a supreme violation of his autonomy. “Say what you really think,” Daemon demanded. Brian couldn’t disobey. He nodded. “Thank you, Daemon.” She laughed. “You’re welcome. Enjoy, and remember–you can always fix things. Just reply to my email.” And with that, Daemon vanished from the room. Brian slumped into the desk in front of him, moaning as he felt his diaper squelch beneath him. He disagreed with the last thing she’d said. She could put him back the way he’d been, but he didn’t think it would qualify as being ‘fixed’. ... Just a horny little concept I felt like exploring - I hope you enjoyed! If you like my writing and want to read more of it, get early access, and also read exclusive content that's not available anywhere else, you can! It's only two dollars for the early access tier, plus it involves helping me buy things like groceries and diapers - y'know, the necessities in life! Patreon SubscribeStar
  5. *Edit: I've been a reader for a long time, and around this time last year I decided to start writing ABDL stories to eventually post. There was a bit of a learning curve, I wrote a few stories that failed for various reasons, but it was important to me to post a story that was finished. I started working on Without Merit in October. It's around 30 chapters long, and I'm wrapping up the final chapters as of the posting of Chapter 1. I'm really proud of the results, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks for reading. All characters are over 18. Story contains sexual content. ................ About Lovington Lovington is somewhere in middle America, a place where the highways give away into county roads, where franchises are few and far between. That's not to say that it's a backwater, Lovington is exactly as pristine as the American dream, and as common as ice cream with an apple pie. It's a typical American small town with a small shopping mall, a local cinema, its main street is main street. The people are kind, generous and almost as bland as the town itself. A town that blends into the area, that isn't even a blip on the map. It's always out of everyone's mind, and the people of Lovington like it that way. There is nothing suspicious about Lovington, that's why it was a great location for a secret laboratory. All the while, this laboratory in Lovington ran along, melting budgets with no real breakthroughs — then one day, there was one. They finally opened a door and only one thing came out before it closed again: the cube. 0 Boredom is its own kind of inspiration. It was well established among the teenagers that the small town of Lovington was boring, nothing ever happened here. Even as it was happening. However, the strange place had plenty of inspiration to share with everyone. A quiet influence swam throughout the city like an invisible fog, a feeling that something was moving behind the curtain, a feeling not everyone noticed or that anyone could shake. The Hartmann house was a three story affair, if you count the game room in the basement. The below ground man cave was wall to wall in wood paneling, a throwback from the 1980s when that was in fashion. The three girls inside looked as bored as the decor, draped on the pair of couches and the single creaky, padded lazy boy chair. Katie Nguyen lounged on the shorter couch, her long athletic legs hung over the other end of the sofa. Charity Brown held a pillow across her chest and was the only one watching the box shaped tv. Marisa Hartmann rested in the giant chair, swiping through selfie filters until she found one good enough to post. "Men are so easy,” Charity sighed. "I think you mean boys are easy, there aren't any men that go to our school," Marisa clarified. She lifted her phone above her head to take another semi-down the shirt selfie. “Nothing but immature boys,” Katie added. All three girls nodded in agreement before going back to whatever they were doing, but Charity wasn't ready to let this drop. There was something bothering her, and she had no idea how to express her feelings. So she complained to her friends until they helped her figure herself out. Being a teenager was strange. "It’s so annoying because it's so lame,” Charity continued. “I’m over being romanced, getting flowers, and getting bored again.” “Sounds like you need to get laid,” Marisa said with a grin. Katie raised an eyebrow in consideration to Charity, who still stared blankly at the tv screen. “I can get laid, that’s not the problem and you both know it,” Charity argued. “We both know that you’re an easy slut?” Marisa prodded. “Ha ha, very funny.” Charity rolled her eyes. They were close enough friends to let this joke pass, but no self respecting girl liked being called a slut. Charity was mostly self respecting, at least to those who didn’t truly know her. It was fine that she liked sex, and not just the regular sex that she could get from almost any boy at the school. Charity liked weird sex, like back page experimental Cosmo magazine stuff; she found herself bored too easily, like she was right now in the retro game room at Marisa’s. And when she was bored, she thought about sex. The lithe blonde cheerleader sat up and threw the lifeless pillow into the opposite corner of the couch, preparing to get on her soapbox. The commotion was dramatic enough for Marisa to actually get off the phone and actually pay attention to her. “No, think about it, Mars. You and I both know we can get whatever we ask for from just about anyone. We can get in the backseat from a football player, or in the bathroom between classes from the weird/moody, silent kid. If we want an older guy, we’d just troll a bar with a fake ID; but we’re so pretty we wouldn’t even need one. I bet that we could even bag a teacher, like even a married one. Don’t you think that’s boring?” Katie blushed furiously as Marisa considered her words. For a typical blonde, Charity made a good point every now and then. However, Marisa wanted to see where Charity was planning on going with this, and also she wanted to see just how red Katie’s face could get from embarrassment. Charity wasn’t wrong, but she over-calculated just how horny Marisa actually was. It’d be cool and all to get caught up in a whirlwind romance with an older guy, or married man. That being said, she wasn’t one to open her legs at the drop of a hat like Charity. “So what’s your point?” Marisa asked. “I’m not trying to make a point, I’m just saying I’m bored,” Charity said. The cheerleader went back to flipping between channels with an ancient tv remote with tape wrapped around the battery pack. It was Marisa’s turn to not let things go, if something was bothering her friend, she’d at least want to know the cause, it was her game room after all. “Alright, if you’re that bored you should move onto threesomes and gangbangs. You know your way to the boys locker room, you’ve done it in their showers before, right?” Katie choked. “You’ve been in the boy’s locker room?” “Shut up virgin!” Charity snickered. It was an A and B conversation and Katie needed to C her way out. Katie’s virginity was well-renowned in her circle of friends. She was the athletic type, more interested in good grades and Martial Arts tournaments than dating. It wasn’t that she was ugly, quite the opposite. Katie was tall with almond shaped eyes and well defined muscles. Her honor student lifestyle, addiction to Tae Kwon Do, and most importantly her old fashioned Asian parents, did not allow the quick hook-ups like other girls her age. “I’m just saying I want something different, a kinky relationship without the banging — like fifty shades or something.” Charity tapped the remote against her chin. “I love that movie,” Katie quipped. Virgins just didn’t know when to shut up. Marisa decided it was time to give some sort of advice, Katie was getting no where with Charity. “So why don’t you find a billionaire to tie you up and spank you?” Marisa asked. “Who said I won’t be the one doing the spanking?” Marisa laughed, Katie blushed, but Charity was still deep in thought. They were at some sort of impasse, and she had no idea what she even wanted to hear. She was bored, kinda horny, and she wanted to play a game. The idea of being the ‘spanker’ was just a quick comeback to her friend, but Charity found it intriguing and worth a second thought. “I think we’re onto something, about the whole school being boys not men and whatnot. Wouldn’t it be kinky to be in charge of a boy like we were cougars? We could put them under our control, and force them to satisfy even our nastiest fantasies. I mean, really push the envelope.” “So what did you have in mind?” Marisa purred. She could be classically sexy when she wanted. Marisa was one of those girls that woke up perfect, olive colored skin came without the tanning bed, she had long eyelashes and barely had to apply any makeup at all because being beautiful just came naturally to her. Just like her former actress, supermodel mom. “I don’t know, maybe it will come to me,” Charity said. Still nothing came to her except a hot, churning feeling nestled between her legs. She felt the need to squeeze her thighs together, then do it again — harder. Charity softly bit her lip as she hungrily watched television. Maybe she did just need to get laid. That was when she saw the commercial that gave her the idea. At first, Charity wanted to laugh so she covered her mouth. Then she had to stifle something else, a moan. This was naughty, way naughtier than anything she’d ever thought about before. By far the naughtiest daydream while watching television. Charity flashed Marisa a wicked grin from the couch prompting her to say something. “Alright Chars, what’s on your dirty mind?” Charity crawled from the couch to whisper in her friend’s ear. Her words lost to those outside her cupped hand, but Katie tried to figure out what she was saying by watching their faces. The curiosity was killing her, she hated being left out and this felt super juicy. Marisa started off looking a little confused, then she frowned, and then she laughed. It wasn’t until Charity finished her sales pitch that Marisa featured the same wonton look as her friend. Marisa asked, “Is that really a thing?” “It totally is, I read about it online months ago,” Charity answered. “What kind of guy would even allow you to do that to him?” Charity raised her eyebrows and gave Marisa a knowing look. They were the best of friends, almost at mind reader level. “You know you already have a boy wrapped around your finger,” said the blonde cheerleader. It was Marisa’s turn to blush, she knew just who Charity was talking about. He was cute but not boyfriend material, safely tucked away in the friend zone where he belonged. At the same time, the cheerleader was right about him being wrapped around her finger, but that didn’t mean he’d be into the craziness Charity was proposing. However, Marisa was intrigued by this erotically charged challenge, how far would a boy go to please them? Especially a pushover like him. Marisa asked, “Just how —?” “We could condition him like a Pavlov dog, get him hungry with every ring of the bell. With our feminine wiles we could have him jumping through hoops in no time. Just think of it as a makeover, but with a twist." The two girls laughed as the commercial continued on just in front of them. Katie was officially out of the loop, her eyes jumping from the giggling girls and the television trying to deduct what she was missing. She'd had enough of waiting, so she stood from the couch. “What are you guys talking about? And what does that have to do with Pampers?” …. 1 “No way!” That’s what Adam wanted to say when Marisa invited him to her lake house for the four day weekend. It had to be a prank or something, why would a popular girl want to spend time with a pipsqueak like himself? This was beyond the pale of believability, and it had a dreamlike quality that could just be pinched away. Sure, they shared a few classes together throughout their time in high school. He often helped her with her homework, which actually meant he did it himself, but that was always the plight of smart guys with pretty girls. The closest the two got was when Marisa played the role of his mom in the school play, 'Mother Knows Best'. However, those connections were hardly the means to be invited to a lake house. When he thought about it, he wasn't even sure they were friends, and he had expected her to disown him at her earliest convenience. Marisa was so far out of his league that they weren't even playing the same sport. She looked like a trending movie star, had the etiquette of a princess, and she practically ran the school with her personality alone. As for her body, her mom was some kind of bikini model, and the apple didn’t fall too far from the scantily-clad tree. Marisa often wore short shorts to show off her long legs and halter tops to show off her naturally tan skin. Her hair was the color of honey and caramel, finding a soft niche between blonde and brunette. She was also homecoming queen as if there was any doubt. Adam asked, "Why me?" Marisa didn’t give him an answer, she just giggled. He agreed to go anyways, but that was before he found out that Charity and Katie were going as well. Now, he would be the only boy in a lake house with three of the hottest girls in his grade. "No way!" That’s what his friends all said when he told them how he was planning to spend his weekend. They worshipped him like he’d pulled off the impossible, like he’d found the holy grail. Jerry joked, "Hold on, wasn't Marisa the one who was your mom in the play -- wouldn’t that make her a MILF?” There was plenty of laughter and high fives to go around, they all told jokes at his expense. Adam regretted letting his plans slip. When they realized that he was telling the truth, his entire table had a bit of an overreaction. His friends turned into howler monkeys — bouncing around the table, banging their chests with their hands, and victoriously pumping their fists into the air. They fantasized and strategized on how he could bed all three girls, maybe at the same time. The commotion caused the whole cafeteria to stare, and that made Adam want to disappear. Out of all his nerdy friends, Jeremy typically razzed on him the most. He was a self-proclaimed love expert, and even he looked borderline jealous of Adam. He reminded him that this was how pornos started, 'hot chicks with a helpless geek'. They surrounded Adam in a makeshift football huddle around the table, game planning what his next move should be, and how he should best handle this 'opportunity'. His mom would probably complain about all of the locker room talk, but Adam was happy that his mom wasn't there to hear what was being said. He kept his hands over his face to hide his blushing cheeks. He let out a couple of nervous laughs to play off his unease, but he didn't touch his lunch. Good things weren’t supposed to happen to the wallflower, the outcast. There comes a time in everyone’s life where they evaluate themselves against the hopeless backdrop of their peers — a measurement of deviation from normalcy. It didn’t take long for Adam to see how different he was from most eighteen year olds. He was short and scrawny, and small enough to still shop in the kids section. Adam never had to shave, even the freshmen had stubble. It was like the puberty fairy forgot to sprinkle dust on him while he slept. He even played the cute little kid in the school play. Everyone laughed at the jokes, they coo’ed and aww’ed at him, all the while he was a senior in high school. He wasn't bad looking, both his mom and grandma said he was handsome. That’s two women spanning two generations, that had to count for something, right? Adam was shy and struggled to talk to girls, he was a virgin and never had a girlfriend because he was afraid if he asked they’d say -- “No way!” Okay, he was better with girls than he gave himself credit. Jeremy often marveled at how well he did with the opposite sex despite being so clueless. He was the opposite of Adam, Jeremy kept up with the latest fashions, dressed the part and quoted GQ like it was scripture. His reputation for unsuccessfully chasing skirt, and his palpable desperation, led to him turning off every girl at school. However, he still lectured Adam almost daily in how to get girls. Just like he was doing now. Jeremy advised, “You’ve got to have the confidence to be yourself if you want to seal the deal.” The irony was not lost on Adam; he did his best to ignore him, he didn’t want to be the one to burst his friend’s bubble. Adam just looked at things differently, his friends all changed as they grew older — everyone except Adam. Friday nights were no longer about pizza and late night video game sessions, there were no more nerf wars with walkie-talkies in the woods; now, all his crew cared about was getting laid. Adam wasn’t like them. He still played with action figures, watched cartoons and he loved wearing his Pokémon shirts to school. Like Ash Ketchum, Pokémon was timeless. It’s not like he wasn’t interested in girls, his life didn't revolve around hooking up. The situation at school didn't help matters, he was prime pickings for a lot of random harassment from his female classmates. When he walked down the halls, he got his hair ruffled, butt goosed, a couple of times he was even carried off by a pack of giggling girls. It wasn't anything sexual, it was just how they'd flirt with a senior that looked like an 8th grader. They also gave him kindly nicknames, calling him 'squirt', 'honey', 'baby'. They treated him like a kid brother, not potential boyfriend material. “No way!” That’s what Adam thought his mom would say when he asked her if he could spend the weekend at a lake house with three girls. This wouldn't pass her puritanical smell test for sure. However, she surprised him with the biggest smile and a sincere happy mommy hug. Adam still got those at eighteen. Then she asked, “Honey, do we need to talk about safe sex?” “No way!” Adam wanted to scream, but he just shook his head. She did so anyways, for an entirely painful 30 minutes, Adam never wanted to hear about the birds and bees ever again. The following day he found a box of condoms on his pillow, a gift from mom. How come everyone was viewing this lake house invitation as a VIP ticket to orgyville? Of course he knew of all three girls, they were school-wide royalty with perfect hair and perfect bodies to match. Cool seemed to always stick with them and change with them like seasons. They were the unapologetic trend setters, who all girls wanted to be and whom all boys wanted to be with. Charity was a blonde, everyone knows the type, a cliche valley girl that began each sentence with OMG and spelled out LOL instead of laughing. Her clothes were expensive but always bought on sale. She wasn’t really rude, she just tried really hard to make it seem like she didn’t care. Adam knew for a fact that she did, back in sophomore year, she stopped a few members of the football team from putting him in a locker. She had a reputation as a girl that went all the way, which meant as much to Adam as the weather on the moon. Katie was more of a mystery. The Asian girl was a blackbelt in TaeKwonDo, genuinely polite and caring. Her GPA was through the roof, and she won an award in just about everything she did. Her intelligence was just as intimidating as her muscles, she was athletic and quick to solve a math problem. As far as Adam knew, she never had a boyfriend. It seemed like the dating scene passed by them both. The boys at his table had different ways to describe the girls, they made hand gestures regarding their curves, they kissed at the air like lovesick fools. Jeremy asked, "So you're going to film this right? You're going to make an epic porno." "Um... No way," muttered Adam. This would not end in sex, he thought to himself. However, there was a secret in the duffle bag cradled between his feet. Safely tucked away in a sock was the box of condoms his mother had bought him. There was no way that he'd put anything on video, even though the thought did excite him a bit. That'd be one way to get back at Jeremy for razzing him about his virginity for the last four years. Adam looked around to see his support group had turned on him, no longer regarding him as the king of the table, only as the loser who wouldn't give them what they wanted. The energy deflated like a worn balloon. Adam hated himself for telling them his weekend plans, but he also hated disappointing them. So he did what all cowards did, he gave in. "Okay, fine. If anything happens I'll try to catch it on video." Adam expected them to cheer, chant his name, and carry him around the cafeteria, but they all fell silent. Their eyes went wide, their jaws dropped open with shocked expressions on their faces, he was surprised by the effect his words had on them. He was even more surprised to hear Marisa's voice come from behind him. “What do you plan to catch on video?” Adam felt the dual sensation of panic and humiliation when he wondered just how much she had heard. The world reeled in slow motion as he turned from the table to see not only Marisa, but Charity and Katie as well. They all had the same look on their faces, the same kind that his mom had when he did something bad. He ran his hand through his shaggy hair, he had no idea what to say, so he nervously chuckled while looking to his friends for help. Jeremy turned his back on him, whistling like he had nothing to do with operation Amatuer Pornstar. It looked like Adam was already on his own, some group of friends that he had. "I was hoping to make a nature video. You know, of the animals around the lake." A surprising solid 3 star save in the clutch! Right on cue, the boys around him nodded in agreement, someone muttered something about squirrels. It looked like everyone believed Adam except for the three girls. Katie crossed her muscular arms, Charity rolled her eyes, and Marisa had her hands on her hips as if to say: "No way..." "I'm sure you care all about the wildlife," Charity groaned. She had plenty of experience with bad boyfriends and could sniff out a masculine lie like a bloodhound. Marisa seemed the quickest to shrug it off. "My mom just pulled up, are you all packed and ready for our trip?" Jealousy emanated from his friends as they left the boys at the table. The ones who were about to throw a parade in his honor were now giving him sideways glances like he was the first one to shout bingo in a room full of grannies. He was no longer wanted at this table, and he was pretty certain that he wouldn't be until he came back with a scandalous video. That probably wouldn't happen, because despite the peer pressure, Adam still thought that it was a bad idea. Katie asked, "Are you excited?" The taller girl slugged him in the arm, harder than she probably intended, she was a black belt after all. He managed to nod back at her. Adam was not a fan of small talk, and he had to stop himself from throwing up when he opened his mouth. He said something that sounded like 'yeah', but it was more of a grunt than a word, so he cleared his throat and said it again. It still came out as a mumbling mess. The hallway to the car seemed to go on forever, how was he supposed to talk to these girls this weekend? Adam wanted to open up, shake off the shyness, but he was still a mumbling, bumbling idiot. Two conflicting thoughts battled in his mind as he shuffled in silence. The first, that his friends were wrong, and this wouldn’t be some sort of sexy party with a wild romp with these girls. This was highly likely, and the most probable outcome, but some leftover mystery still lingered — what if they were right? What if he was heading into a trap where these girls would bang him all weekend? It sounded like a fantasy, but it made him want to throw up. Both thoughts were equally nerve racking, and he couldn’t think of anything else. Marisa put her arm around him and shook him awake. "Come on, Adam. We're going to have a great time this weekend. We've been looking forward to hanging out with you, so there's no need to be nervous." He melted a little bit when she flashed a smile at him. "We're going to have LOADS of fun,” Charity giggled. There was a red luxury SUV in the parking lot, a beautiful woman leaned against the passenger side door like a Bond girl. Her long blonde hair swayed in the wind, same as her loose fitting turquoise summer dress that looked like it was ripped straight from a fashion magazine. She looked like she was high maintenance but worth every penny. Marisa pointed to her. "It looks like my mom is here. Adam, why don't you say hello while we load up all the bags in the back?" "No Way!" Is what Adam thought when he saw Marisa's mom for the first time. Jeremy liked to use the word MILF to describe any woman over the age of thirty, but that's the exact way Adam would describe her. She had aged out of pretty but matured into beautiful. The nerves rose up again, and he chose to look at his feet rather than make eye contact with her. He wanted to snap out of it, say something witty or polite, but he just walked in front of her and stood there expectantly. Like a mute. Mrs. Hartmann leaned down and ruffled his shaggy brown hair. "So you're this Adam that Marisa keeps talking about. I recognize you from the play, you look a little bit older when you're not wearing a sailor suit." A bit puzzled, Adam looked down at his Pikachu t-shirt and khaki shorts, then remembered what he wore for the play. Yes, he wore a sailor suit to make him look more like a kid. As if his genes didn’t do that enough already. “Yeah, those aren’t my regular clothes,” Adam mumbled. "I'm sure they weren't, but you did look so cute. I'd say that you were the audience's second favorite, and you memorized your lines so well. We were so proud of you, weren't we Marisa?" "We sure were," Marisa commented as she circled around the front of the car and hopped into the passenger seat. The hot mom extended her hand to shake his, Adam just meekly put his hands in hers. "My name is Lindsey Hartmann, and I'll be your driver today. You better be on your best behavior, I won't hesitate to give you a firm smack on the behind if you get out of line with any of these girls." Adam couldn't tell if she was joking or not, she was as difficult to read as Shakespeare with a stutter. However, he didn't like the sound of being spanked at all. There was something so demeaning and childish about that particular punishment. Adam had an active imagination. In his mind he saw himself draped over her lap — and he stopped himself from thinking about it even further because his face was turning pink. Marisa rolled down the window. “Aren't you going to join us?" Everyone was already inside the car by the time Adam recovered. He opened the door to the back seat to find Katie and Charity already comfortable and watching him expectantly. He stepped inside only to find a pink booster seat in the last open spot. Not only was it pink, it was a princess themed toddler chair covered with glittering magic wands, butterflies and fairy wings. A large sparkling tiara featured prominently where his butt would be. He wanted to say so bad — "No Way!" Really? Were they expecting him to sit in a chair for toddlers? Adam fumbled around the back of the booster looking for a way to pull it off the seat so he could actually sit down. It was tied to the backseat by some force beyond science, he certainly couldn't figure out where. Adam pulled and jerked at the chair while the whole car watched him make a fool out of himself. "Is there a problem?" Marisa asked from the front. "No, I'm just trying to move this car seat so I can sit down," Adam answered. "Could you do me a big favor and just deal with it this time?" Marisa asked politely. "We put the seat in for my baby cousin, and it was a real hassle that we do not want to do again. My mom is planning on taking her to the zoo next week." Marisa had a way of making Adam do whatever she wanted, the magic formula was her good looks and powerful charisma with a dash of his lack of backbone. She could easily put him under her spell. He felt helpless to her words; then again, a car seat was a car seat. Lines had to be drawn somewhere. Adam complained, "I don't think I'd even fit, I'm not a little kid." There the chair sat, its intentions evil to the core, and Adam wasn't planning on sitting in it — that was until Charity slapped the seat with her hand, which startled him. She didn't have to say a word, she just gave him a look. He was beginning to hate these girls and their looks. But once again like a coward, he gave in. He climbed into the car seat without any more protest. The arms on the booster were snug around his waist, but besides that, he did fit. Adam frowned when he did. Marisa snaked her hand from around the front seat and gave his thigh a squeeze. "And you thought you were too big," Marisa laughed. "Well, I —“ Lindsey interrupted, "Aren't you going to buckle up?" Adam desperately wanted to argue, say something about being an adult, but everything around him seemed to move too fast. In a flash, Charity deftly pulled the seat belt over him, her hands sliding uncomfortably through his comfort space, barely above his no-no zone, but the boy was flabbergasted already. Too many girls, too little of space, and princess themed car seats had a way of getting to someone. "Alright, he's locked up tight. Let's get this show on the road," Charity announced.
  6. Chapter 1: Discovery You know that dream-like state when you're sure you're awake but something odd happens and for a moment you realize you're dreaming before it changes or ends and then however long after this you wake and briefly recall that strange sensation? She was certain this was happening to her because it was all too strange. She had been waiting for someone to enter her life for years, someone to make her feel something that all the romance books promised; wanted, loved, but also exhilarated and enticed. What was missing? Why had she never found it? Her friends all seemed to be happy but it just never worked out with the guys she had been with. Her name was Danielle and she was a "typical" woman, living in an apartment, a high school administrator, long hours for months, summers off, a few close friends and family, forgettable really, normal and "average" in every way from her brown shoulder length hair to her b-cup, and slender but not skinny body. Sure she worked out and was tight, but not model tight, and nothing overly stunning about her. No children, 32 years old, not too late, but getting there. She was up late after a mediocre date that had gone just okay, she couldn't sleep, they made out a little, she would have probably done more had he just asserted himself, but he backed off as you'd expect any respectable guy would on a first date. He wasn't the typical guy she dated either which probably put her off a bit. He was her height, soft features, slender, not handsome, but not unattractive, cute. If anything he looked and sounded a bit effeminate and that was ok, just not something she was used to. She had been aroused during the making out, he had slipped his hand up her skirt and gotten a fingertip inside her before he backed off fearing he was crossing a line. "What a shame" she thought, "even this guy who has my panties bunched up and wet doesn't want me..." The date ended uneventfully, but she was worked up enough to keep her awake, so, time to hop on the internet where porn was plentiful, free, and most of all, free of judgement, no holds barred, skies the limit! She had a few sex toys, nothing grand or elaborate, a vibrator, a dildo... a vibrating dildo, she once tried a butt plug that vibrated but felt strange after using it. Not that it wasn't pleasurable, but, guilty, shamed that she was a "degenerate" for using it and thought "if I die tomorrow and my relatives clean out my stuff and find this, what will they think???" ...straight to the garbage Mr. Plug. Her porn tastes revolved around watching women masturbate with the toys she could never use, big toys, anal toys, machines built to bring women to orgasms multiple times sometimes squirting which she was certain was pee, or at best some kind of put-on, a little water in the pussy before the "money-shot" and viola a new genre of porn is created that REAL women could never fulfill. Still, it was exciting to watch and to fantasize about. "Let's get with it and get to bed" she thought, on to google, safe search off, she looked for masturbating dildo videos, gone through several old standards, they got her attention but not getting the job done. So, she went to her panty drawer and got her sexiest panties, they weren't much, but for her they were good. Fairly standard high cut french panties with a standard cotton crotch that she just loved to get nice and wet with her excitement. Panties on, non-vibrating dildo in hand, back to the computer, a slight excited flutter in her belly to get a good wet spot going with her fingers on the outside of the panties, then pretend a nice sized cock slides into them, parts her wetness and takes her home. That's it... that's how her life was, no in-depth thought on how it happened, just watching other girls masturbate, wishing it was her, or wishing it was a real cock inside her making her cum... zero creativity. She stopped. Tired of the cycle. She googled a new search, wet panties masturbation. This was different, girls with panties wet just like her doing what she was doing, she watched a few and this was working, still pretty standard, but different, at least it wasn't the "old" her. She slipped the toy inside her and started wiggling around on it. Nice... but it's the same, "I'm going to cum on this toy while wearing my wet panties, i'll take the panties off, wipe off my pussy, wash the toy, go to bed..." She stopped, she started to sob, excitement gone... she looked at more of the videos. She got pretty deep into the search where the results start varying from what you initially intended and found one where a girl was tied up, wearing panties, and peed them. "Hrm... that's really different" she thought "don't know if I like that or not, but what else..." some more videos like this, then a video where a girl was peeing and masturbating at the same time in panties. "That's kinda gross...but no one is here, and if I do die tomorrow, not like anyone is going to find out how my panties got wet in the first place... hrm." This is where things got strange, soon after seeing this video she started having that sensation of waking from a strange dream. A vague lightheaded sensation like she was lying down but also still sitting in the chair, wet panties, dildo, watching girls pee and masturbate.The sensation passed and she kept watching, the porn was gross, pee everywhere, sopping pissed in panties and a girl, screaming through an orgasm that she must have been faking because it was all too much. Yet, she kept watching, like when you come upon a horrific accident, your curiosity glues your attention to the spectacle. She felt her clit tingle and her nipples harden nicely and kept gently stroking her pussy through her panties. "Whatever, no one can see me for being interested, so what if I am, big deal" she said to herself. Several more videos like this, and a very wet pair of panties, her dildo every now and again slipping inside, she wasn't ready to give up and cum, especially watching these videos. It was almost like throwing in the towel, if she came watching these, what kind of person was she? It was getting to her though, she was keeping herself on the edge, prolonging it over and over. This was new to her, delaying an orgasm, denying herself the pleasure was both pleasurable and agony but something about it felt so right. She decided to do a new search and looked for pleasure torture... not much came up, "what do you call this" she thought, orgasm prolonging had more results but not much then she saw a link to something called orgasm control and a whole new world opened. Chapter 2: Awakening These new images flashed on the screen like a secret world she had stumbled into. Men and women, almost all restrained in some way being manipulated by someone else, teased, humiliated, given pleasure, then denied it, over and over the same theme, pleasure, denial, pleasure denial. This is what she had started to do to herself and here was a whole group of strangers doing it with one another. They all had a pain aspect to it also and this was way out of her comfort zone "but you know what" she thought, "I've gone this far... why not a little further?" She started rubbing her nipples first gently, and much to her surprise this sent a massive wave of pleasure straight to her pussy that made her gasp and clench her ass tight on her wet panties. The warm wetness in her ass gave her an extra little thrill but nothing like the new pleasure of playing with her nipples. She teased them gently, pinching them slightly and each time a tingle, a pulse of pleasure, what could be almost described as a mini-orgasm each time, not enough to satisfy but it directly aligned with her new-found pleasure torture. She pinched each nipple harder and harder and reached a point where the pain was too much, no more pleasure now, and her nipples were getting sore. She took some of her wetness from the now slippery and wet pussy lips and rubber her nipples to soothe them. Much better, "maybe pain isn't my thing after all, only 1 way to be sure though!" With that, she stood up started to rub her tight little ass and *whack*... stars. "OH MY GOD NO.... no fucking way!" No, pain was not her thing after all, but the experience did teach her that she could receive pleasure from her nipples and that was well worth the now red and throbbing ass. Sitting back down was delicate but the warm wetness of her panties quickly made her forget the pain. She continued watching and the next video was of a girl, tied up, panties on, and another girl slipping a dildo into her panties so the panties held it inside, then focused on sensual kissing, tonguing her all over, and consistently rubbing her captives nipples. The submissive girl couldn't get away and couldn't stop the onslaught and clearly didn't want to had she been able. This suited her, she felt drawn to this and looked for more like it, some with men in charge, some with women, but all were about 1 person dominating another woman, and controlling her through a pair of panties that would ultimately "catch" all the girls wetness as well as serve as a point of humiliation in some form or another. Her panties were doing the same thing, they were now holding in her wetness as well as the dildo as she watched countless videos and mindlessly rubbed her nipples, never letting herself cum, and why should she, she had nothing to do as the summer had just started and she wanted to see how long she could keep this up before giving up, giving in and going back to her "normal" life. Then it happened again, that wave of dreamlike confusion, this time she felt like she had actually woken up and seen Chris, then man from the date earlier, standing over her doing something but then back to reality in front of her computer, humiliating herself. She stopped again. "What's wrong with me that I can't just finger myself and go to bed?" Expecting an answer she sat there, for nearly 1/2 an hour, sometimes sobbing, wondering what the point was, going so far as to think "if I just end it all now, would it even matter, look at me, a fake dick deep inside me wearing wet panties watching women basically get raped and I'm enjoying it? How far I've sunk, I should be ashamed of myself and I am, but for whatever reason I like this, I hate that I like it, but I do, so now what?" An answer came this time, but not one she was expecting. The dildo popped out of her pussy with an audible "pop" and got caught by her panties followed by a warm trickle of pussy juice. She started laughing immediately "look at me, I squirted, I should call someone and proclaim what a slut I feel like. What would that be like? Hey, Chris remember me from a little while ago, yeah I've been jerking off and just kinda shamefully squired in my panties with a rubber dong want to hang out tomorrow?" No. Her laughter subsided but her desire to finish herself off never did. "Friday night... panties soaked, nipples burning in a good way, wishing I could figure out why I like this porn and needing to get my rocks off all alone... might as well end it with a bang!" Back to google, "how much lower can I sink I wonder" she said out loud. "Let's just combine it all into one search now... 'girls being dominated and not allowed to cum while wearing panties". That got her a big fat nothing in terms of videos, but this time she started getting story results and clicking around and reading the stories was just as good as the videos if not better because now she could insert herself into the stories and fantasize about someone doing it to her rather than watching someone have it done to them. Several of the stories had dialogue in them unlike the videos, an interaction between the captive and the captor. Words, names, suggestions, an overall tone. This fueled her fire as now she started thinking, "Who is doing this to me? Master? Sir? A stranger with no name? The school principal? A student?" One story touched on a girl being tied up and fingered endlessly by her teacher a woman. This hit home with Danielle because she thought of some of the high school girls she taught, but she thought of all the bitchy ones, always coming late, always flirting with boys and how she could teach them a lesson by humiliating them in class, holding them down, making them beg to cum even though they hated her for it... but it didn't seem right, she was too horny to think about making someone else cum and invariable in her mind, the girls would hold her down, and molest her until she agreed to change a grade, or let them leave early. Absurd, but it was working and her mind went with it... what if one of the girls showed up for a parent teacher conference, with her parent, and they did it to her then. "Now that would be something" she thought. "Some bitchy little 18 year old who needs my class to graduate shows up with her cunt of a mother and they start demanding I change her grade so she can graduate, I refuse, they do something to me to knock me out or something and I wake up, tied up somewhere... oh fuck that's nice" she thought with the dildo back inside her, playing with her nipples. Her screensaver had kicked in at this point and rightly so, with these fantasies, who needed porn, "I can think up anything I want, and if I die tomorrow... no one knows a thing! Ok, so I wake up somewhere tied up, spread eagle, we're all naked and the girls mom decided she's going to teach her daughter about control and you can make anyone do what you want if you just bend their mind a little." An interruption happened again, there she was, lying in bed with Chris, him standing over her, he's naked, she's naked, he's got his cock inside her and he's slowing pumping away and a rustling noise fills the room, she's wearing something strange like a thick pair of panties, he's rubbing her nipples and she's babbling something while he comforts her with his words "what a good little girl...." Back to reality again and sitting in front of her PC, her slideshow going, panties drenched, thinking about this anonymous student and mother manipulating her. Danielle thought "why the hell is Chris calling me a little girl? in my dreams? Chapter 3: Training "So, sweetheart, you think you're going to fail my daughter is that right?" said the anonymous woman in Danielle's fantasy. "Let me go, you can't do this to me, this is insanity, you think you're going to get away with this? Not only are we going to get away with it, but you're going to change her grade, you're going to thank us, and you're going to become a whole new little girl when I'm done with you... That's odd" she thought, "that's what Chris called me in my dream... hrm, do I want to be shamed and punished or whatever like a child might be? It does fit the whole submissive rape-fantasy role playing Master/slave kind of role but if I'm her little girl, is she the teacher? No, I'm the teacher, she's the parent of a student, she's a parent. Hrm. No, lady, none of that is going to happen, what's going to happen is that you're going to let me go, Christine here is going to fail my class, and you Mrs. Johnson are going to jail for kidnapping! "You got some of that right little girl, I did 'KID'nap you, because when you take a little girl against her will that's what they call it." Christine giggled at her mothers wit. "Christine dear, girls like Danielle have got a sickness inside them and its up to real women like me, like you'll be some day, to work that sickness out of them. It's like a toxic juice that gums up their inner workings, clouds their minds and makes them all grumpy and bitchy toward real women, big girls, like us. So what do we do now mom?" Christine asked her mother. We get her all prepared and ready to get that nastiness out of her and see the world the way she needs to see it, it's all for her own good, and eventually she'll thank us but it's going to take some time and effort to train her properly. Wow" thought Danielle... "where the hell is all this coming from??? Why have I never thought of this before, it's so fucking sick, but... it totally works. It even aligns itself with my boring life, my failed relationships, everything... if someone would just 'help' me get a better outlook that would fantastic, and I could cum over and over to boot, win win!" "We're going to start with gagging her so no one here's her screams because this is going to get very intense, very fast. Take her panties and stuff them in her mouth, then secure them with this pair of nylons. Good girl Danielle, now relax because the more you struggle the longer this will take. You'll appreciate this, I'm going to give my daughter a lesson and use you as the subject, you should be flattered little girl!" There it was again but this time it felt both humiliating and exciting, Mrs. Johnson's tone was so positive, so full of esteem and yet so condescending at the same time. Danielle was proud of herself for getting so into her fantasy and not feeling guilty about it, and why should she, she was in her own mind, and no one could stop her or judge her, this was hers, she owned it, sick or not, it felt right, let the world go fuck itself with it's right/wrong. She didn't have to answer to anyone. Mrs. Johnson: "Now, Christine, she can't get up, she can't alert anyone to what's happening and she's totally helpless, who else is like that?" Christine: "I'm not sure mom." Mrs. Johnson: "Well, is that what it's like to be you or me at this moment?" Christine: "No... we're in control." Mrs. Johnson: "Exactly, we're in control of little Danielle the helpless little girl who can't get up and can't talk and can't control herself.... what a good girl you are Danielle, lying there helpless and in need, just unable to fend for yourself... like a... like a....?" Christine: "Like a baby!" Mrs. Johnson: "Bingo! But not like a baby... a baby, who can't do anything but take what's given." "Here comes that sensation again like I'm about to wake up, but I'm already awake" thought Danielle. There was Chris, balls deep inside her hot little pussy, thick white panties pulled to the side, rustling like a plastic bag, nipples being teased, something buzzing, somewhere in her panties, feels like she has to poop but not really... "is it my plug, the one I threw out years ago" she wondered, who cares she was in total ecstasy, like a non-stop rolling orgasm, being kissed, nipples burning, ass buzzing, a big thick cock inside her as he said "that's it, you get nice a wet in your diaper for me". To which she heard herself reply, "I'm a good girl Daddy?". "You're a good little girl for me, baby". Ripped back to reality again, Danielle felt tired, she had been masturbating for hours, in and out of consciousness and her pussy was getting a little tender, panties we're clinging to her and her chair was even wet at this point, she felt like she had to pee, but she'd finish up soon, pee, and pass out. "Wait, diaper? You know what... at this point who cares I just want to cum. Christine: "So what's first mommy? Do we beat her up? Do we take pictures of her like this and threaten to send them to everyone?" Mrs. Johnson: "It's almost as though you're not listening at all Christine... I'm going to teach you how to make her a helpless little baby and when you're done, she's going to change your grade willingly." Christine: "I still don't get how that's possible but whatever...let's get started?" Mrs. Johnson: "Baby, Christine is going to begin working on you, I hope you don't fuss too much, it's time to make all that nasty negative gunk inside you come out and turn you into the sweet little girl you really are. Christine, gently insert this vibrating plug into her ass and while you do it, praise her, constantly be praising her and telling her how she needs this and how she really wants it but is too scared so we have to force her." Christine: "Ohhhh I get it, we're going to fuck with her so much and humiliate her to a point where she just accepts it and gives up, and does what we say? Like how they torture prisoners but instead we're going to make it like this is to her benefit?" Mrs. Johnson: "Mommies little girl, I'm so proud of you for picking it up so quickly... and soon she's going to be your little girl!" Christine: "Ok little one, time for your bottom to get nice and full, lets just lift you up and spread those pink little cheeks... that's it, you can't stop me, you're such a good baby, that's it, let it slip inside nice and easy, it gets wider but then it gets smaller again and it's going to feel so good in your little baby bottom, what a good girl you are, I see you struggling and trying to push it out but you know this is good for you so just relax... and... all the way in... yayyyyyyy what a good girl you are baby, you're mommies good little baby!" Mrs. Johnson: "You're doing great, but while you're praising her you have to give her some positive feelings as well, so now the next phase is to keep her clean, secure, but also happy... babies never like to be changed and hate being cold so we need to cover her up a bit while also making her feel good. Go get the diaper from my briefcase and some powder. Good... now... slide the diaper underneath her, that's it... Danielle stop fussing, no need to cry baby, it'll all be over when you accept it. That's it Christine powder that little cunny because she's going to need that once she starts getting wet. Good, now, pull the diaper up but don't tape it closed yet, rub some powder under her nose and tell her she's a good little baby slave. Perfect. Now the fun can start little Danielle! Take you hand start rubbing her pussy over the diaper, gentle little circles, this will arouse her and infuriate her at the same time, while you do that I'm going to gently rub her little nipples and baby is going to get VERY upset at her arousal so we need lots of praise and continued rubbing" Christine: "Here we go with your baby training little girl, I'm going to make you so happy in your diaper! Chapter 4: Reality? Danielle imagined this continued for quite some time in her fantasy while in reality the pressure in her bladder continued to build and she was still gently masturbating in front of her computer, all sense of time gone, lost in pleasure, lost in thought, just going with it, exhausted and accepting. Mrs. Johnson: "I think you know what to do now, I'm going to leave and when I come back I expect a well trained little baby slut who needs her mommy and does what mommy wants... this is how you get what you want in life sweetie, people will love you and if they won't, you make them through controlled pleasure. See you later little girl" Christine: "Bye mom! Ok honey, mommies here little one, making your little cunny nice and wet, nice and warm in your baby diaper, you're going to be such a good little diaper slave for mommy always creamy in your diaper, always wanting to make cummies for me, always turned on and needing to be filled but trapped in your diaper like a baby should be. Christine now alternated between rubbing Danielle's nipples and diapered pussy, Danielle couldn't stay still, she couldn't believe this was happening to her, being raped by a girl being diapered being treated so nicely but for all the wrong reasons she didn't know what to do but couldn't deny the fact that her body was so turned on she could cum at any moment, if only she could get more of the sensations, more would be so much better and then she's agree to Christine's terms even if it was a lie she could finally get away and get help. She couldn't help moan though, and she loved her fantasy, being so twisted but feeling so good. Christine: "Mommies little girl is getting awfully wet in her baby diaper isn't she, I can peel back the diaper and see you're little lips are so creamy and gooey your bottom is probably used to the plug by now so its time to turn it on. There we go, its buzzing away, ohhhh no, baby don't squirm, it's good for you, it makes all that nasty girl poison come out of you, that's why you're getting so wet, it's the bad stuff I told you needs to come out in order for you to be my trained little baby slut remember? Mommies going to work it all out of you, and your diaper is going to catch it all and you'll be a good little diaper girl from now on. The plug is in your bottom to help, you see the longer mommy works your hot little cunny in your baby diaper, the more goo comes out into your baby diaper and the quicker you'll be turned into my helpless little baby slut. That's also why mommy keeps saying these key phrases to her little diaper girl over and over with all the pleasure you can handle. The more mommies helpless diaper girl hears all these baby words and phases the harder it'll be for baby to resist, and soon enough mommies little diaper baby will love her diapers so much, she'll want her diapers wrapped tight around her wet little baby cunny keeping her nice and warm and catching all her sticky goo-goo's." Danielle started crying, in her fantasy, and for real, this was the release she needed, she wanted to make this a reality somehow but she couldn't, and her mind was in three places at once it seemed, fantasy, reality, and her dream of Chris doing this to her. She needed to cum, she needed to pee, and it was all so close. Christine: "That's it baby, you let it all out, mommies going to fasten this diaper on nice and tight and let you rest a bit, ok? Or does baby give up, does baby need her mommy, if baby needs her mommy to make her creamies come out into her baby diaper then baby just needs to beg? Mommy understands you can't talk but I'll understand if you shake your head, if your mommies girl now you shake your head and mommy will complete your baby training?" Danielle panicked, she didn't shake her head and her mommy walked away, and in her fantasy screamed through her gag for her mommy to keep going she was so close it couldn't end like this, what was wrong with her, why was she denying herself pleasure, all night she did this to herself, stopping and starting because her sad thoughts got in the way, just like real life where everything was plain and boring, where Chris wouldn't get closer, where her friends and family were dismissive and her job a dead-end. She was going to finish this, she was going to go through with it and complete this weird journey regardless of her own mind getting in the way. Danielle cried out and her mommy looked over, Danielle gave up and shook her head. Christine: "Is baby ready to gush out all her goo-goo's into her creamy baby diaper and become mommies good little diaper slut?" Danielle shook her head again. Christine: "Good girl, now let mommy fasten your diaper on nice and tight so her hands are free and mommy can turn you into a full time diapered little baby slut. That's it, is that good, nice and tight, your creamy diaper all slick and ready for you to wet with your naughty stickies? Of course you are, your mommies good little diaper slave. I have a surprise for you, the only way to get the bad stickies out and train your right is to get nice and deep inside your little cunny so mommy has this big thick strap-on to work it out of you. All I have to do now, is slip your baby diaper to the side and gently ease it all the way inside you. That's mommies good little girl, you take it nice and deep while I rub your little baby nipples. Now that's it you grind on it... mommies not going to stop pumping and rubbing your nipples until you scream and cream... good girl, you work your cunny against that diaper and around your mommies pee-pee, that pee-pee feels so good doesn't it, it's your salvation baby, it's your way of transforming into a good little diaper baby." Chapter 5: Acceptance? Just as she Danielle was feeling like this was it, she faded back into her dream with Chris, there he was, his slender effeminate body, big thick cock pounding away at her, the thick diaper rustling away, the buzzing in her ass from the plug, her pussy working against his cock... when he spoke... Chris: "That's my good girl you keep working your cunny and you make a creamy soon, your training is almost over baby, just give up and let the machine do it's work." "The machine?" Danielle thought? She looked around in her dream and saw she was on a medical table, an IV in her arm, heart monitor, blood pressure cuff, and she was up in stirrups. Chris noticed her becoming more aware and spoke again. Chris: "You're such a good girl Danielle I just had to have you, when I slipped my finger inside you on our date it was to distract you from the tiny injection I gave you in your arm, an injection that would keep you sedated long enough to get you into my special room in my home." Chris, all the while was still gently rubbing Danielle's nipples and sliding the cock effortlessly in and out of her soaked, hot, wet diapered pussy. "I've wanted to meet you for some time, I've been watching you, I know how miserable you really are and I know just how to make you happy, but it required some training on your behalf and I knew you'd never get into it willingly..." With that, Chris took off his shirt and revealed breasts, Chris was a girl, Christine, s/he was her height, soft features, slender, not handsome, but not unattractive, cute... Chris: "Please relax Danielle, I know the real you, it's exactly who you just fantasized about with a little help from the sedation and the programming you've been getting during your training... you've been here with me for days, reminded of your life, reminded of what you're going to leave behind and reminded that the real you is worth it, let me complete your training and you'll be mommies little diaper girl forever..." It all came crashing down. The dream of Chris fucking her was a reality, the reality of her home in front of her computer was part of a conditioning and training torture she was enduring, and the fantasy of being raped by a girl and turned into a baby slave tied the 2 together. Danielle burst into tears, real tears, she didn't know what to believe and she started to panic and try to get away. Christine was crushed... but selfish, and determined to follow through with her plans. She pressed a button on the IV to sedate Danielle further.... Danielle slipped back into her fantasy with Mommy Christine. Christine: "That's it baby, you're almost done, you're just about there... you're going to make a nice sticky creamy on mommies cock. Your baby cunny is going to flood your baby diaper, and then you'll be all mine. Cum for mommy, cum in your diaper, cum like a little baby who can't control herself and wants a new life as a diapered baby slave..." Danielle tensed, Christine turned off the IV, Danielle woke into reality as she flooded her diaper with cum, pee, and pushing the buzzing plug out. An orgasm would be a cheap way to describe what happened. It was literally life altering, she came so hard, crying, screaming into her gag, pushing the strap-on from her pussy, pushing Christine back from her with pee and cum running out of her, running out of her diaper the plug falling to the floor snapped her back to reality. Gasping for breath Christine released the gag and she drew several deep breaths like a newborn filling it's lungs for the first time. Christine got back between her legs and slid the strap-on back inside her and continued to gently pump and rub her nipples. She knew if Danielle had truly been trained this moment was key to establishing a bond with her and gaining her trust as her mommy regardless of who Danielle really was now she had to try. Christine: "That's mommies good girl, you did so good making a big wet creamy and pushing out all the naughty girl cummies, are you ready for a fresh diaper little baby girl?" Danielle: "... yes mommy, baby wants a clean diaper and another creamy in my cunny, I still feel like a naughty girl and only mommy can make me a good little diapered baby slave." This is what Danielle said... but is it what she thought?
  7. It was just a lock of hair. How could I have known what he was going to use it for? As far as I was aware, it was a good deal. The quiet guy who worked in the cubicle next to me wanted a few strands of hair, and he offered me fifty bucks for it. I knew he was into all that astrology stuff, I figured it was so he could determine my ‘wavelength’ or figure out if mercury was in gatorade or something. I didn’t know the stuff he did was real, and I figured fifty bucks was more compensation for having to deal with him being weirdly passive aggressive and annoying, than it was for the hair. When we both got called in to deal with a late-night emergency with an overseas client, I found out what he wanted it for. It was not worth the fifty bucks, let me tell you. We met at the door. He had a key, and I didn’t, even though we both had the same job. I wasn’t sure how he’d managed to cajole the boss into giving him one, but I guess that’s why he was on the late shift - nobody else could get in without coming late. I met him at the door. “Hey.” “Hi,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder at me as he unlocked the entrance. “Any idea why this couldn’t just wait until morning? It sounds like a typical paperwork problem. Friday night seems like a helluva time to get called in.” He shrugged, and I thought I caught his eyes roll, though I couldn’t be certain. Pushing open the door, we walked inside, finding our way to our respective cubicle desks. While my computer was booting up, I detoured to the break room to turn on the coffee machine and get myself some blessed caffeine, to help keep me powered on through the late night. When I got back, though, I hesitated. I’d walked past his cubicle entrance, and it didn’t look like he was working. In fact, he was… playing with a doll. Blinking, I leaned back and glanced in, to ensure I hadn’t mistaken what I’d seen. And no, I hadn’t - he had a little doll about the size of a cabbage patch kid propped up on his desk. It looked handmade, with brown hair that frizzed at the back, green eyes… A tattoo on its arm of the kanji for ‘Hope’... “Did you make a doll of me?” I asked, blinking and staring, realizing that it was my actual hair that he’d affixed to the doll’s head. “What the fuck?” He glanced up, nonplussed, his expression saying something to the effect of, ‘Well, duh, what does it look like?’ What was even weirder, though, was that the doll’s clothes somehow matched my own. To a T. The same polo, the same jeans, even the same shoes, which was particularly strange because I’d just bought this pair today. There was no way he could have known what I was going to wear, so unless he’d just pulled out a sewing machine and made the outfit in the five minutes while I made coffee, he had to have had a whole bunch of clothes on hand, and he just dressed the doll to match me. “Creep,” I said, grimacing, reaching for my phone to take a photo so I could send it to HR. “This is gross.” He just raised an eyebrow at me, picked up something small and pink off his desk, and slipped it onto the doll’s right hand. I dropped my phone. Frowning, I bent to pick it up, but my fingers felt suddenly clumsy and numb, like I was trying to pick something up through several layers of taut cellophane. I tried with my other hand and managed to pick up my phone, holding it up for all of two seconds until he put another whatsit on the doll’s other hand. “-The hell?” I said, looking up. Looking closer, I could see that he’d put little, fingerless rubber mittens on the doll’s hands. I stared, and tried to reach for the doll to grab it from him. He gripped the doll tight and shook it vigorously, and- “W-oah!” I yelped, feeling suddenly dizzy and disoriented. I fell back, landing in a sprawl, confused and at the mercy of my coworker. “Have you figured it out yet?” he asked me. I blinked. Clearly, I hadn’t. He raised the doll for demonstration purposes, flopping it over his hand so that its butt was raised in the air, and with his other hand he gave the doll’s fabric backside a little swat. “Ow!” I yelped, as I felt the impact of the spank hit me suddenly. “What t- ho- What the how?” I was confused, okay? I’m not, like, a word forging person. Setting the doll down on his desk, he continued to smirk at me while taking a long strip of sticky tape and taping the doll down. At the same time, I felt sudden, invisible weight pushing my chest down, as though a giant… Piece of sticky tape… Was fastening me to the floor. “Let me go!” I demanded, but he moved the doll’s hand to its mouth, manipulating it a bit, and as he did I found myself suddenly suckling my thumb, my mouth too full to make any speaking sounds. “Blessed silence,” he said. “I’ve been looking forward to this, you know. Waiting for the stars to align just right for the curse to go into effect. Of course, you know - curses aren’t real. When you come into work on Monday, nobody will believe that any of this happened. And you know what that means?” I shook my head, nervously. “It means I can do whatever I want,” he said. “And you can’t stop me.” Reaching for his desk, he picked up a pair of scissors. My eyes went wide in terror, thinking he was about to do something gruesome, but instead he just started snipping away at the doll’s clothing, cutting away the stitched fabric miniature of my outfit. On my body, my clothes seemed to just… break, coming apart at the seams and falling off my body in sheets. My pants, then my shirt, and then my underwear - my shoes stayed on until he just pulled the miniature footwear free of the doll, at which point the real ones just came unlaced and flopped to the ground. I still couldn’t get up, the sticky tape binding me down as effectively as steel chain and cuffs. I couldn’t speak, drooling over my thumb, and I couldn’t use my other hand, contained as it was by the rubber mitten. My coworker opened a small desk drawer by his keyboard, and a large filing cabinet drawer behind him, then said, “Now, if you’re a doll, and I’m playing with you… I think the natural choice is to play ‘dress-up’, don’t you think?” I started to shake my head, until he gripped the doll and made it nod in agreement. I nodded in agreement. “Good. And I think you’re going to be a baby dolly.” Reaching in the drawer, he pulled out a tiny, fluffy diaper. Despite all the magic on display, I was still shocked when, out of the filing cabinet, an identical diaper flew up into the air. As he spread the doll’s legs, my own legs spread in equal measure, and when he wrapped the diaper between the doll’s thighs and pulled it snug, taping it down, the full-size equivalent flew to match the motion. I hadn’t worn diapers since my long term memory developed. All I could do was squirm as the puffy, thick padding taped itself around me, and then came the dress. Oh god, the dress. It was a bona-fide doll dress. Not something that a real life person would be caught dead in, except maybe for a little girl in a halloween costume. Too many frills to be real, and of course with a matching tiara, because why not? He undid the sticky tape, lifted the doll, and pulled the dress over its head. And, from the filing cabinet, I was suddenly assaulted with a tirade of lace and pink. It was like a scene out of a disney movie, I think. I couldn’t tell you which one, but I’m pretty sure that having a dress suddenly stitch itself into reality around your body was from one of those films. I squirmed and fought, but he was still holding up my doll, and it was as though I was stuck in place. At least, in order to dress me, he’d had to take my thumb out of my mouth. “W-why?” I asked. He looked at me, tilting his head. “Why not?” Then, taking the last article from his drawer, he stuck a bright pink plastic pacifier into the doll’s mouth, and a real one flew to match it. Er… except that ‘pacifier’ was an understatement. The bulb was too big to be a real pacifier, even one scaled up for a person. It was more like a gag that just happened to be in a pacifier shape, holding my mouth open uncomfortably and allowing a trickle of drool to run down my chin behind the shield. He took two more pieces of sticky tape, stuck the doll’s feet to his desk, and then got up and walked away, leaving me helplessly in place. I could stand, or I could sit, but my feet were pinned down and I couldn’t reach the doll to try and remove the tape or free myself. Unable to turn my body all the way around, I could only listen to whatever he was doing in the break room. I heard the fridge door open, and the cabinet, and then the tap ran… I swallowed in fear. I didn’t like where this was going. He came back, holding a measuring pitcher that was full up with two cups of something. I sniffed, and based on the color and the smell, it was brownie batter. I frowned, puzzling over why he’d have brownie batter. Unless… I shook my head, vigorously. No. No no no no no- “Oh, good, I was hoping you’d guess,” he said, grinning mischievously. “It makes the anticipation so much more fun. Flipping over the doll, he lifted up its many frilly petticoats, getting access to the back of the diaper and lifting the pitcher of brownie batter. Pulling back the waistband, then, he tipped the pitcher and began to pour. My bowels suddenly grumbled, like I’d drank twenty pots of coffee instead of half a cup, and before I could so much as squeak in distress, my body worked to make the real me match the doll. Except… what I filled my diaper up with wasn’t brownie batter. I squirmed and grunted into my pacifier, completely unable to control my own bodily functions. It didn’t even seem physically possible that I could have needed to go this badly, though given everything else, it probably wasn’t. I just kept pushing, adding more weight to the seat of my diaper, feeling it grow heavier and heavier. He emptied the whole pitcher of batter down the doll’s dress-up diaper, and the fake padding must have had a lot of elastic in it, because it stretched to fill, sagging down so low that even the long, frilly dress wouldn’t hide its ‘accident’. My body, obligingly, did all the work it could to match this in real life. Magic, maybe, ensured that the diaper didn’t leak - it just swelled, packed up with an impossible amount of smelly, squelching muck that had long since filled every corner of my diaper. It was too heavy for me to even keep standing, and I fell back, my weight sinking into the diaper I couldn’t stop filling. I was so distracted by the mess I was making that I didn’t even notice when he pulled one last item from his drawer, but I did notice once he turned it on and I heard the buzzing. The magic wand had three settings, and he skipped the first two, turning it up all the way. Picking up the doll, he sat it on top of the buzzing head, pulled out a couple feet of sticky tape, and wrapped the doll down so tightly that it couldn’t possibly budge off the vibrator without serious intervention. Bzzzzz- I moaned into the gag as I finished filling up my diaper, the vibration conveyed into me more intensely than anything I’d felt in my life. It shouldn’t have felt this good. I told myself it was the magic, but… Well. I told myself it was the magic, and I’m not going to say anything else on that subject. He just got to his feet, then, pinching his nose. “I didn’t think you’d stink this badly. I’m going to take a break, but I’ll be back in a while to let you up so you can walk home. Or… waddle home, I suppose. I promise I’ll change your diaper before work on Monday, though. Have a nice night, dolly.” Strolling away, he left me alone in the office, with nothing to do but moan. ... If you enjoy my writing, I'd be incredibly grateful if you'd consider subscribing on Patreon or SubscribeStar. Also, it'd benefit you! Because you get an exclusive story every month, early access to most of my writing (unless it's Too Spicy For Patreon, like this story,) and other perks of subscription! https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling
  8. Andrew’s Story It was a shame for Andrew; so much promise, so much talent, so much money… just the wrong time to have a break down. ~~~~ Andrew Simmons, Andrew ‘The Frick’ Simmons, was all but burnt out after an extremely busy few years. He’d built up the business “The FrickFactory” from a simple, though addictive, game he’d created when he was seventeen, which had gone viral. The add-ons that he attached to this unpretentious computer programme ‘Frickland’ had launched a business that escalated, in less than seven years, to be worth $56million. We know this because that was for how much he’d just sold it. Andrew was almost at the point of collapsing from nervous exhaustion. It didn’t help that his small, frail, pale body, which had hardly seen sunlight over the past seven years, looked like it could have done with a good meal. He was burnt out and having such terrible trouble sleeping he was becoming addicted to drugs to help alleviate his many problems. Those seven years where, almost single-handedly, he’d developed and designed the ‘Frickland‘ franchise and the harder, more phantasmagorical ‘Conspiracy Gene’ game, had been intense and draining. He was up against a huge number of other exciting computer games on the market and it was a battle to keep up with all the leaps in tech, story lining, design and artwork. In fact, every day brought something new and revolutionary in to his business. Innovation was nonstop and although at first it was fun and challenging, for Andrew it had become mind-numbingly terrifying. He was descending into an abyss of his own creation, whilst his reliance on chemical highs to help him exist was taking its toll. Every one of his friends thought the shedding of his company would help, but it didn’t. His anxiety level was through the roof and, living alone, in the spacious mansion that only success can buy, was making him feel isolated, even when surrounded by people. He was getting desperate. He was sure his mind was going and there was a creeping sense of paranoia that drove every decision. With all that money in the bank, and the fact that he no longer had the responsibility of his company to worry about, you would have thought was enough to ease his predicament. If anything, his mood got darker and he became a very unpleasant, secretive, angry and deceitful young man. Somehow he managed to annoy business colleagues, frustrate family and alienate his best friends, which led to being more solitary. His parents had begged him to return to his mid-western home. They thought rest and recuperation away from the pressures of California was all he needed to get himself back to his creative best. He was adamant that he didn’t need any help, convinced if he did it would be used against him in some way. He screamed he needed nothing from anybody, there was nothing wrong with him but, at the back of his mind, he knew everyone was out to get him. A little rest, a little escape from all these annoying voices was all he really needed. He had to get away from all these leeches that would suck the life out of him. It was they who were the problem not him. The paranoia was no longer creeping… it was full blown suspicion. One morning his personal assistant Becky found her boss lying in a pool of vomit, shivering and crying for his mommy. She herself had known the problems of a personal breakdown but had recovered thanks to her psychotherapist Doctor Drummond. Once she’d cleaned Andrew up she begged him to try her doctor. She claimed that after only a couple of hours of therapy there was an instant improvement. Her boss was dismissive of her claims but she insisted that the doctor had hypnotised her, found the root of her problem and, by regressing her back to that moment, she had confronted the problem at its cause. She claimed that she’d been 100% calmer since those sessions and thanked the psychiatrist almost daily in her prayers for delivering her from a whirlpool of doubt and terror that up until that moment, she couldn’t explain. Andrew would have none of it, yelling and calling her a liar. Becky begged him to at least try him but the foul verbal abuse was just too much and she was glad that the following day was her last in his employment. When he’d sold the company, his employees went with the new owners, Becky wasn’t needed but thankfully she’d found a new position and couldn’t wait to leave now her boss was such an obnoxious prick. In many ways she was looking forward to telling him just what she thought but it would have to wait until the last pay-check was signed then she could walk out and never have to worry about the jerk again. That last morning was a disaster. She arrived to find him lying unconscious, surrounded by empty bottles and an assortment of Class A drugs and, on top of all that, he’d shit and pissed himself. Becky was at her wits end, finally she called for help. ~~~~ Head clear, mind refocused, Andrew was enjoying this new game, why he hadn’t thought of it before was a mystery. Instead of progressing Frickland he was going back to how it all started; The Frickland Nursery. The entire concept was there before him; it was bright, colourful and fun, a sort of cross between The Sims and Rugrats; entertaining cartoon characters you controlled. The simulation and sets were designed for the most enjoyment a child could possibly have. The game was clever, easy and at times fiendish. At each stage they could graduate up to the next age group if they achieved certain levels and collected special prizes. They had a time scale to accomplish otherwise they were returned to the beginning of the game. Andrew thought this was a cunning part of the experience because, no matter how advanced you were, at any moment, when timed out, you could be returned to a crying baby and the entire process would start from scratch. Andrew was relishing developing this game more than any other, well apart from that first one which had set his career in motion. Thankfully, now there was no pressure he was taking great delight in making each character age appropriate; diapers, rompers, onesies, pacifiers, stuffed toys, toys in general, powders, lotions, plastic pants, rubber sheets, cribs, nursery rhymes, mobiles… he couldn’t stop once he started. ‘The Nursery’ was going to be the best ever. The walls were all bright colours; cartoons festooned the surfaces, whilst the personality of each child was sweet and cute they were clothed in appealingly decorated diapers. Some of the kids would be timid, others adventurous but all were adorable wearing their little baby outfits. Some of the characters were new-borns, others crawling and some toddling around. They walked and talked like babies and each wore a very visible diaper; some wore more than one. The thickness was a penalty for not achieving certain ‘points’ or ‘prizes’ throughout the game. Occasionally a grown-up (Nanny), would come in and change, discipline, dress or insist on ‘nap time’ for various individuals as needed. To gain age levels they had to collect colourful items like golden pacifiers (there were seven colours to be won to get up to the golden prize), four layered lace pink panties (pink was the top plastic panties you could achieve though there were four other colours and different layered ruffles to attain first). Food, baby bottles, sippy-cups, bibs and playtime were all graded and awarded points and only once you’d achieved the top level in each of these could you advance. Andrew was getting more and more excited as each new component of his game dropped into place or he expanded on the idea. ‘The Nursery’ was heavily populated. Padded bottoms were everywhere as the cast crawled or toddled to various areas of play where some tried to gain the rewards that meant they would be able to ‘grow up’. Baby boys and baby girls cried, wet and soiled themselves if they failed and that set them back a stage which they had to repeat. The changing mat also meant that more diapers were added, which slowed the toddler down and made achieving the next level slightly more difficult. Andrew giggled to himself when he saw that one of the 30 month-old toddlers lost all his rewards and had to start at the beginning – so it was back to being a baby again. That was a penalty which seemed extreme but was fun to have. Crying was just as much a part of being a child as giggling, or moodiness, or sleeping, so at times the nursery was both chaotic and peaceful. Andrew thought it was the best game his imagination had ever created. He loved the colourful characters he’d produced. He loved the innocent but slightly edgy nursery world in which they lived. He loved the fact that it was a fun place to play. Every game was an adventure; every detail of a kindergarten was included, from the selection of soft and furry toys to the lettered building bricks. It was all so realistic, every move was accompanied by the rustling sound of plastic diapers and plastic pants… he could almost smell the baby powder… in fact; he could smell the baby powder! ~~~~ He looked down at himself. He was wearing a thick, thick diaper and a pink vest with a cartoon mouse on the front. Whilst the cartoon mouse stayed the same the rest of the Sim-like caricature world dissolved from colourful comic animated figures into real people. Each of his characters was no longer in a game but the real world. There was a cross-section of ages and when he tried to speak the only noise he could hear was childish gibberish. He tried again, but no words formed just sounds and noises those around him responded to but couldn’t understand. The toddlers had a few words in their vocabulary but Andrew; well he wasn’t sure what or where he was. He looked like a twenty-four year-old but his dress and speech were that of a one year-old. He thought this was all part of his own creation but now he wasn’t sure. He could only crawl and his diaper felt full, wet and uncomfortable. He tried to tell someone, anyone that he was having a nightmare, but no one could understand what he was trying to say. His body just wouldn’t do the things he wanted or expected it to do. There was no coordination, no strength, even crawling around was difficult. On top of all that, the frustration at not being understood led him to do what babies always do when in such a situation - he sat in his soiled diaper and cried. ~~~~ High up on the gantry, looking down on his medical achievement, stood the fifty year-old, white-haired and self-satisfied Doctor Drummond; he was pleased with the way business was progressing. The specialist area of psychiatry had led to his ground-breaking research being financed by the government. His responsibility was to find a psychological way of rehabilitating hardened criminals so that they were no longer a menace to society. Unfortunately, his deep and controversial exploration of the human mind had led to a few setbacks along the way, which the government, seeing lawsuits on the horizon, weren’t happy being associated with. His funding had almost dried up until he’d found a way of utilising those unforeseen but effective ‘setbacks’. Now, with his state-of-the-art desert retreat (psychiatric institute) he was able to offer a service he was surprised how many people wanted to exploit. Some patients were volunteers, some were sent, whilst many had no choice. Most of the ‘children’ who were crawling around below were heirs to various fortunes that either family, or Doctor Drummond himself, had managed to convince needed to start his specialist treatment. They all had problems of one kind or another and hoped for a cure that the saintly (and highly regarded) psychoanalyst might provide. Whether, kidnapped, coerced or corralled business was doing well. The clever and opportunistic shrink had certainly found a market for his specialised (some might say criminal) therapy. None of patients were aware what their ultimate ‘cure’ would be, though this particular outcome suited many business rivals or disgruntled siblings. The doctor would tamper with their minds; explode memories, kill off thought processes, defeat certain urges, impose control, manipulate will, rectify and regress each one of them back to those glorious, happy, untroubled, childhood days. That was the initial idea; however, what that actually meant was they were destined to a lifetime of diapers and toddlerhood… repeated ad nauseam. Visiting guests and high powered execs took great delight in seeing a rival reduced to diapers and building bricks and were happy to pay for the privilege to keep that person out of the way and incapable of a response. They reasoned that being ‘forever a toddler’ was better than ‘not being at all’, and congratulated themselves on being so considerate, finding a wonderful world for their ‘adversaries’ to live out their lives. They also loved the idea of the humiliation that a grown person having to wear baby clothes, smocks, diapers and plastic pants would feel, they hadn’t realised that humiliation can only happen if the person humiliated is aware of the fact. These babies had no concept of anything but their toddler existence and the childish sphere in which they blissfully lived. No matter what their real age, in ‘The Nursery’, no one would ever progress past being a toddler. The nurses (or nannies to the little ones), trained and cared for their babies in the colourful, childish world that the good doctor had created for them. The regression trigger he’d placed in all of his subject’s minds was there should any start showing signs of developing an intellect. Their entire lives were spent as little kids playing and trying to win prizes. He, and a couple of his technical boffins, had come up with an app called ‘The Nursery’ so there was a digital baby world as well as a real one in existence. He was able to combine the two for his tots, which gave them something to aim for, even if that aim was bogus, after all, it did form another part of the research. However, as soon as they reached the advanced level (about three years-old), cleverly they were re-set to start all over again with no memory of what they’d already accomplished. Smugly, as the doctor looked down on the latest patient in his care he smiled. After a couple of weeks intensive ‘therapy’ Little Baby Andy was now able to join all the other babies in the nursery. His brain had needed a complete retune but using the game and Andrew’s own programming abilities, had been fairly easily convinced it was all his creation. He’d planted the computer game idea, and the characters, so deep that Andrew would have difficulty in separating one from the other and believe he was responsible for everything that went on. That was until his mind refocused on the real rather than the cartoon element then, as the doctor planned, his mind would scramble and he’d slot right into complete babyhood with no problem. The cunning academic could see the newest ‘recruit’ to the nursery sitting in his thick diaper and cute little mousey t-shirt crying, coming to terms (or not) with his situation. It wouldn’t take long. Soon his brain would stop computing and start accepting, although he may never quite be able to mentally differentiate between the physical and digital worlds. However, Baby Andy would be a welcome addition to the doctor’s crazy collection of kindergarten kids. Besides, the cute, sad-eyed, under nourished looking baby with the huge diaper had nothing to worry about; Doctor Drummond was going to be taking special care of him. After all, the clinic was financially safe for quite a while now that he had access to $56 million. ****************** THE END
  9. A classic story that'll be reuploaded since it was lost to the massive glitch of 2017. Goodness was last year a horrible year for our community. Anyway, if you want to see the entire story, right now, please pledge a dollar to my Patreon where you'll get access to all of my stories including stuff which will never be posted here or on DA. Check it out! https://www.patreon.com/user?u=6660213 Chapter 1: Faye's Bad Encounter Faye cursed quietly under her breath while she stood in front of a locked door. She occasionally glanced down the alley, making sure she was still alone while Ed remotely hacked the electronically sealed entrance to the building. It only took a minute for the locking mechanism to signal that it had been unlocked, but the purple haired chain smoker felt like she had spent an eternity waiting for Ed to work her magic. She stole one last gaze down the alley, which confirmed that she was still unnoticed by the security. Faye opened the door with her left hand while clenching her 9mm Glock with her right. She pointed the pistol down each hallway until she had determined that the halls were barren. The building didn't seem to be heavily guarded, as a matter of fact, quite the opposite. Faye began to walk down the left corridor, which she knew from the building's blueprints, led to the basement. She never lowered her pistol as she stalked the dimly lit corridor. This bounty has a reasonable price on his head, five million woolongs. The woman in the yellow tube top reminded herself. The "Jester", as the media had dubbed him, was famous for his unique attacks. He was an Anarchist who loved to attack politicians and he was also a chemist. Bombs, chemicals and neorotoxins were all par for the course. Faye was greatful that, before she left the Bebop, she had told Ed to send Spike and Jet if she wasn't back in two hours. Faye had to maintain radio silence or else she might tip off this madman that she was on his turf. The only reason Faye even sought him out was due to the fact that one of Ed's hacker friends had leaked some juicy information on his whereabouts. Hence, why this was a "girls only" mission as she had told Ed. Normally Faye would have ignored this kind of bounty because he was extremely disturbed and dangerous, but his bounty had risen by four million overnight. She knew that the government jacked up the bounty due to the fact he made a promise to strike the Martian Congressional Hall during the annual interplanetary conference. He boasted that this attack would be his most satirical work yet and that he would live up to his title. Faye reached the iron door at the end of the hall and took a deep breath, counted to five, and swung open the heavy door as fast as she could. She was caught off guard by a stainless steel catwalk which turned into a staircase that led down to a massive laboratory. She walked quietly along the steel walkway and then down each step of the stairs, scanning the lab with her gun drawn, until she reached the ground floor of the lab. 'This place was fairly large, but no one seemed to be home'. She thought as she began to lower her pistol. All of a sudden someone clad in a hermetically sealed biohazard suit swung at the back of her head. He wasn't exactly the epitome of stealth and the bounty hunter docked before aiming her weapon at him. "Back up or I'll knee cap you!" Faye ordered. The man in the suit held both hands up and walked slowly backwards until he reached a table with a few beakers, vials and a test tube station configured in a scene straight out of a science class. The purple haired woman felt in control as she approached him and didn't notice him putting his covered hand over a small vial that laid on the table. The chemical compound was already prepared and ready for mayhem as he slid it onto the floor, shattering it into a few dozen shards of glass and unleashing a pink mist into the atmosphere. "You bastard!" Faye yelled out as she covered her mouth, but it was too late. She had inhaled the chemical cocktail. The bounty hunter felt extremely off balance and very confused as she blacked out. The last sensation she felt was her body hitting the floor. The bounty looked at her with curiosity. 'The chemical shouldn't have rendered her unconscious. Maybe to much of the pink stuff.' The deranged man began to laugh aloud to his thoughts as he dragged Faye up the stairs and dumped her body outside his compound.
  10. Regressed Day 1 So, here I am, sitting at my computer wearing nothing but a thick diaper and plastic pants. “Why would any sane person dress like that?” you might ask, and that is a difficult question because I have no idea where the original thought came from. It must have something to do with trying to research an article online that I was preparing to write. I was new to the magazine and wanted to prove myself. So, I was looking for something crazy, something my editor would love and something the readers could feel superior about so, something definitely a bit sexual, kinky and creepy. I was checking through various fetish sites: ‘Adult Baby’ and ‘Diaper Lovers’ seemed a bizarre subject for me to get my junior journalistic teeth into. I was amazed at just how many ‘weird but normal’ people seemed to be into this particular ‘thing’ and thought I could have some fun with the subject at their expense. Why I chose this particular theme I’m not sure as it horrified me; adults parading around in diapers and doing stuff in them, definitely not what I’d call fun. However, as I looked into it more and more it appeared to be a topic with ‘promise’ and I became fascinated with the images and stories. # Day 4 Over the past few days the thought to purchase and wear this ‘infantalistic’ clothing has grown. In fact, I think it is fair to say that the idea seems to have overtaken any other thoughts in my head. Every time I see an image of someone wearing a diaper, I see my face smiling, or gurgling or sucking on a pacifier. It’s creepy and yet…? At night my dreams are full of these images of me playing, coloring, building bricks high or just lying in a crib with toys, stuffed animals and feeling nothing but… peace. When I wake up I’m happy and smiling but when I’m fully awake a chill runs through my body, which leaves me wondering why this subject is having such an effect. Yesterday I found myself at the drugstore buying adult diapers and I have absolutely no recollection of even driving there. My only real memory is carrying the huge plastic pack back to my car and feeling happy. Yes HAPPY and… pleased with myself. Again I’m not sure why but I suppose I was glad that I now had my own diapers and a couple of pairs of plastic pants to keep me dry. On returning home I just tossed the bundle into the back of the closet wondering why I’d just bought such items and telling myself that I was a being very ‘naughty’ and that I’d return it all in the morning. However, since then, some mornings I wake up and find I’m wearing nothing but a diaper and have no recollection of actually putting it on. # Day 7 Where and when I first got the idea of wearing a diaper instead of my usual underwear I’m not sure but here I am wearing them all the time; around the house and when I go to bed. In fact, I seem very happy wearing them and I can’t think of a time when I didn’t. Those first couple of occasions it all felt very strange; the bulk and the obvious bulge I was sure were very noticeable. The crinkling of the plastic I was sure would attract attention but to me it seemed magical. Thankfully, after just a few trips out in the car to the store or wondering around the city wearing them under a pair of shorts (I’d more or less stopped wearing jeans because they seemed just too adult) it all felt… wonderfully normal. If anyone noticed they don’t say anything so, it doesn’t seem to matter that much because I really did like the idea, as well as the feelings of… of… happiness… that this change in clothing gives me. Day 8 They give me a feeling of being fortunate, of being loved; of security… they give me a feeling of being me. Since I left home a couple of years ago my mummy and daddy… er, I mean mom and dad (why I used those childish terms I’m not sure) have er, erm, umm… what was I going to say? Sorry, my mind seems to be doing that more and more, I sort of lose my train of thought and the only way I can get it back is by visiting the site. Never mind. “Daddy… daddy… dada…” What the hell is going on? # Day 9 Why am I acting so strangely? I need to work and finish this feature and get back to normality as soon as possible. I look down at myself and the plastic pants feel tight around my waist and legs. I can see the outline of Disney characters on my diaper and all is forgotten because I’m filled with joy and happiness that I have them with me and work is the last thing I want to do. I want to play. I search the room for my best friend Timmy my teddy bear. As always he’s never far away and I reach out and give him a hug and a squeeze, whilst the feel of his soft fur against my naked skin sends messages of contentment to my brain. I sit him on top of my diaper and bounce him up and down; he’s such a silly bear. For a brief moment the feeling of ecstasy passes and I continue my research on ‘Disgusting Diaper Dudes”, that’s the title of my article, but as I look at the document on the computer, other than the title and my name, I appear to have written nothing… and yet… I feel I’ve been researching and writing the article for ages. I’m beginning to doubt my sanity. # Day 11 Where can all my work be? I’m sure I’ve typed thousands of words on the subject, but looking at my history on the toolbar, I have returned to the same ABDL page often. In fact, when I look more carefully, REGRESS is the only site I’ve looked at in the past few weeks. I’m sitting looking at the screen wondering what’s going on. Rubbing the slippery front of my plastic pants and wiggling my toes in the soft carpet. I feel my bottom lip trembling because I don’t have anyone else to play with and a huge gulp of sadness is rising up from my tummy. Timmy is held tightly in one hand, whilst my thumb is in my mouth and I am sucking and trying to think at the same time. Thinking is hard and I feel my eyes getting heavy as I try to stay awake and close the site once and for all. I hug Timmy even tighter and begin to sniffle, I don’t know what’s happening and I want my mommy. # Day 13 My diaper is thicker and more contented than ever and I feel so happy sitting on the floor with my legs outstretched, I chuckle because I couldn’t close my legs even if I wanted to. As I crawl around I’ve never noticed it before but there appears to be some soft relaxing music somewhere in the background, it’s from the computer and I can just about make out a soothing voice telling me it is OK to relax. The sounds and the words now flit through my mind; sleep, forget, enjoy, regress, suck, relax, wet… As my eyes close a feeling of utter euphoria engulfs me. I giggle because there’s this nice tingling running around my body and into my diaper. All I can hear is that soft, gentle music and those calming, encouraging words telling me that all is well and soon I’ll have no more worries. With my diaper tightly hugging my groin making me feel safe and snug, my thumb offering equal soothing qualities as I suck on it, I drift off. I can feel a warmth grow in my diaper as I let loose and wet myself but I am comfortable, reassured, pacified and… happy and I… Day 14 “regression complete” ***************** Subject Number 20012, Male, Age 23, Collection and clean-up party mobilised. Delivery as Dispatch Number 7773, address as shown on invoice. Special requests: Subject to only wear - pink diaper, pink plastic pants, pink pacifier. * Thank you for your custom * Regression Services Inc * All operatives please note – owing to successful completion of our first year in business we can now offer new increased premium incentives for all future subjects. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
  11. I think I would prefer playing this through notes, so please message me if you would be interested.
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