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Hi my names valeria and i was left on the door steps of an orphanage at the age of one after being abandoned by my birth parents. That was 16 years ago and since then i struggled alot as i was not like any typical teenager as i was born with some health issues nothing too serious but one that stuck out was that i was pretty small for a 16 year old as i looked no taller then a toddler as i tried not to let it bother me so much but it was not easy when people mistake you for a toddler and not a teenager. I struggled alot to make friends and no one was interested in adopting me after being told im 16 as most couples want either a newborn or a toddler to raise. Some of the staff pitty me even though no one really understands how it effects me and it doesn't help hearing staff gossip about me and thinking my parents abandoned me for my health issues. I don't really go to school as the orphange didn't think it would be worth it to send me as it would just be a burden to deal with. I would often sit at the window day dreaming what the world would look like if amazon people existed and to be born in to the world to two loving parents or even to be adopted by an amazon couple and get to be raised in a caring home where i didn't feel like a burden to anyone.

On any regular day where kids attend school that wasn't the case for valeria as she decided to not go to school and just skip it. As you see valeria more so hated school and was usually the target for being bulied by other students as she was smaller in size and often had to prove her age even as even a few adults mistake her to be a child, as you see with valeria's small size she even struggled with weight and could be easily picked up if someone tries to do something to her even if they were only trying to help when she would be seen struggling in food stores reaching the top shelf for things. So instead of heading off to school valeria planned to have a fun day and take a bus to the zoo which is a few towns away from where she lived as no one would know her and can get away with not going to school since at times while in school she goes unnoticed do to her small size which could be a blessing in disguise but doesn't always work in her favor. Once valeria got on that bus and headed off to the zoo she was excited to have some fun then deal with bullies and staff failing to do anything to help her. Valeria was confident that no one would even notice that she skipped school since not even her foster parents paid much attention if she got to the school bus or not. When valeria finally got to the zoo she paid for her ticket and went on in surprised that no one questioned her when she would go in to places on her own but then again the worker at the ticket booth paid little attention to her which was fine as to valeria it ment she would be able to enjoy her self for once.

Hi everyone! This is my first story I've ever written on this platform. Thanks for taking the time to read and I hope you enjoy it. Part Three coming soon! Connor's Unfortunate Lesson: Part One After years of Connor Jackson running his family ragged – driving them to the brink of insanity with his rude, disrespectful, and sometimes criminal behavior – his stepmother has finally decided she’s had enough. The last straw had been when he’d been caught breaking into parked cars in the middle of the night in an effort to score some quick cash. Michelle, who had been in his life for the better part of the last ten years, was both infuriated and devastated when she received that fateful call from the police. Instead of rushing down to the station to bail him out once again, she opted to leave him there for the remainder of the weekend while she finished putting her plan into action. When the following Monday arrived, the first thing she did was set up a meeting with her stepson’s school. Of course, their first inclination was to expel Connor for violating their code of ethics for the umpteenth time. However, she was eventually able to convince the board to allow her to unenroll him so that she could homeschool him herself. It had been a small victory, but at least this way she figured he might still have a chance to earn his GED and attend a good university. One day. At first, Connor had been thrilled with the latest development. He was convinced he’d gotten off scott-free. That is, until they arrived back at the house. After having spent the last several nights in jail, all he’d wanted to do was hole-up in his room and get some much needed sleep. Because as far as he was convinced, all he’d done was earn himself an early summer vacation that promised to be filled with girls, weed, and however much booze he could get his hands on. After his latest brush with the law, he was pretty sure that he’d just cemented his status as the resident “big man on campus”. Although fairly short for his age, he often found himself toeing the edge of being a bully. When he spoke, people listened. And if they knew what was best for them, they did as they were told. Otherwise he made sure they knew there would be consequences. He’d once dumped a kid in a garbage can after he refused to pony up his lunch money on Pizza Day. One could even argue that Connor was proud of his reputation. His male classmates respected him. Possibly envied him. And as for the girls, well, he had yet to meet one who didn’t want him. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard the word “no” – from anybody. Including his parents. Especially his parents. Even when his father had been alive, the man had been known for giving in to his spoiled son’s every whim. Although there were times when Michelle had warned him that he might be going too far, her protests had often fallen on deaf ears. Connor’s father was adamant that he was just trying to give his son the type of childhood he’d never had. Unfortunately for all of them, his attempts had only resulted in him raising a child who believed he didn’t have to play by the same rules as everyone else. But those days were over. After his last arrest, his stepmother knew it was time to put her foot down. Big changes were coming to the Jackson household. A fact Connor realized the moment he walked through his front door. Instead of being allowed to make a beeline for his bedroom, he’d found himself being hauled off to the living room for a special kind of punishment. The kind that involved a long overdue trip over his stepmother’s knee where she proceeded to blister his ass with a sturdy, wooden hair brush. It had been the first time he’d been spanked since childhood. And it was even worse than he could’ve ever imagined. The shame and humiliation had been overwhelming – and he hadn’t been alone for it either. His two stepsisters, Daphne and Delilah, had been in there to witness the entire spectacle. They’d heard every pained gasp and cry, had watched as he flailed and thrashed helplessly while their mother busied herself expertly reddening every inch of his bare bottom until he could no longer contain his sobs. But the girls harbored no sympathy for him. Instead they’d simply laughed, pleased to see their troublesome brother reduced to such an infantile state. In their minds, this was what he deserved after having spent the last few years enduring his would-be reign of terror. When the spanking finally ended, it was then that Michelle dropped what had felt akin to that of a verbal atomic bomb. In that very moment, right there in the living room, his stepmother declared that, moving forward, Connor’s life was about to change drastically. In order to save him, he would be made to start over. Take things back to the basics. And, hopefully, unlearn every single delinquent behavior that, up until now, had kept him off the straight and narrow. Until then, he’d lose all perks and privileges that came with being an adult. No friends. No phones. No electronics. A strict bedtime. And, what’s more, the bathroom was officially off limits. Chest still heaving, a shocked Connor had opened his mouth to protest, only to clam up when one of his sisters was ordered to bring out the urine stained sheets he’d hastily crumpled and shoved under his bed several nights ago. While it wasn’t the first time he had accidentally soiled himself in his sleep, he thought he’d actually been hiding pretty well. He had no idea that his family was well aware of his little secret. They’d just been waiting for the right time to confront him. “Did you really think we wouldn’t find out?” Michelle mused, her nose crinkling as she’s hit with the stale whiff of the young man’s shame. “I mean, honestly. Just be grateful that your father isn’t here to witness what a disappointment his pride and joy has become.” “You’re insane!” He’d hissed, his face red as he began to rub his still smarting backside. “Dad would never let you treat me like this. My inheritance is supposed to come through virtually any day now, and when it does, I’m throwing you, and your girls out on your asses the first chance I get!” Connor’s sniffles had only grown more pronounced when his threat was rewarded with a resounding combination of snorts and laughter from the three remaining members of his family – which was confusing. Because in his mind there had been nothing funny about any of this. “I’m sorry, Connor. And girls, stop. This is serious.” Even so, Michelle had continued to giggle long after the bulk of her laughter subsided. “Because what your brother doesn’t understand is that, while yes he was promised an inheritance, he’s also going to have a hard time collecting it if he isn’t deemed competent to do so.” Tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder, she’d given her daughters a knowing look. “As your guardian, I have a final say as to whether or not you’re ready to receive access to the trust funds you father left behind – which is true for all three of you.” “But I’m–!” “Yes, you may have just turned eighteen, young man.” His stepmother scoffed before rising to her feet. “But that doesn’t mean you’re ready. You have no plans for the future. No desire to go to college or find a trade school. In fact, the only thing you’re able to boast about is your growing rap sheet.” She adjusts her blouse, subtly highlighting her shapely figure. “Whereas your sisters are set to attend the best university in the state on full scholarship, starting this fall.” “I don’t need school, Michelle. I’ve got money. A lot of money.” Connor had snarled before attempting to snatch the sheets out of his sister’s grasp. He failed, of course. “Now, give me my shit and I’ll let you keep the Range Rover my Dad bought you. And when I sell the house, I might even cut you a piece of the profits. Assuming I can bring myself to forget about the way you’ve all treated me just now.” And that’s when Michelle began to move. “Let’s face it, Connor.” He’d stepped back as she slowly invaded his space, effectively towering over him, making him feel smaller than he’d liked to admit. “You’re nothing but a little boy who thinks he’s doing a good job of pretending to be a grown-up.” Cupping his chin, she’d then forced him to meet her stern, blue-eyed gaze. “We – your father and I – failed you the first time around. Which is why I feel like I’m partly to blame for what you’ve become. But I’ve been doing a lot of reading lately, and even had a chance to consult with a leading therapist who specializes in helping troubled young men find their way back on the straight and narrow. His best-selling novel, Rebirth: The Road Back to Babyhood, was quite the page-turner.” Feeling like the walls were closing in on him, Connor could only summon a weak cry as the weight of his circumstances became overwhelming. “You can’t do this…I…” And that’s when a fresh wave of tears had begun to fall. “I’ll call the police. I…I…” He’d trailed off upon noticing Michelle’s smug grin. “Oh, Connie.” She’d eventually released his chin in order to mockingly ruffle his chocolate brown locks. “It’s already been done. This summer, your sisters and I are going to help give you the do-over you so desperately need. We’re going to break that stubborn little spirit so you can grow up to be the kind of upstanding young man who wants to make his family proud.” Leaning down, she’d pressed a chaste kiss along his furrowed brow. He honestly couldn’t believe that these were his only options. Either refuse and be thrown out on the street, penniless and without a place to call home. Or stay and allow himself to be subjected to whatever twisted plans his stepmother had in store for him. “Please…” He’d tried once more, now feeling more helpless than he’d ever had in his life. “I can–I can change.” God, he’d hated how his voice shook with every word he spoke. “Oh, we know you can, baby boy. And you will.” His stepmother assured him as she’d reached for his hand, dragging him down the hall in the direction of one of the house’s many guestrooms. “Like it or not, your new life starts today. Now, come on girls!” She’d called out as her grip tightened, forcing Conner to scramble to keep up with her long stride. “It’s time to show your baby brother his brand new room!” END Connor's Unfortunate Lesson: Part Two - (Takes place three months after the events in Part One) At eighteen-years-old, Connor was desperate to keep his neighbors and the surrounding community from finding out about his shameful little secret. You see, while most of his classmates were finishing up the school year and preparing to start college in the fall, he’d been busy with something else. And it had everything to do with the diaper he was currently hiding underneath his gray sweatpants. For the last few months, the toilet had been off limits to him. All thanks to the bad behaviour that had landed him in jail around that same time. Well, that and the fact that he still had a tendency to wet the bed at night. Unfortunately for him, being denied access to the bathroom like any other self-sufficient adult had severely affected his ability to control his bladder. If he was awake, he usually had a 50/50 chance that his body might alert him that he needed to pee. Or mess. From there, he only had a matter of minutes before he was forced to do his business wherever he stood. Or squatted for that matter. And if he was asleep, then all bets were off. Having anticipated this development, his stepmother now mandated that he be kept in diapers full-time. Connor would have to earn the right to use the potty like a big boy again, whenever Michelle believed he was ready. Wait. Not Michelle. Mommy. Of course, what was even more embarrassing was that he wasn’t even allowed to change his own diaper. Depending on how his behavior had been that week, he might not even be allowed to ask for one. If he’d gotten himself in trouble, he would often have to wait until his Mommy or one of his sisters decided to check to see if he’d soiled himself. It was utterly humiliating. These days, Connor was no longer allowed the privilege of modesty. Michelle bathed him every night and typically changed his dirty diapers throughout the day. And when she was too busy, or couldn’t be bothered to deal with him, the demeaning task fell to one of his twin sisters: Daphne or Delilah. If he were being honest, he regretted having mistreated both girls over the years. Because now they took every opportunity they could to inflict their revenge. While they were of no relation to him, they were the spitting image of their beautiful mother. And what made it even worse is that they were only older than him by a handful of months. Sometimes Daphne wasn’t so bad. While he wouldn’t exactly say she was nice, he could usually deal with the way she teased and babied him. But Delilah…she could be downright cruel. There were times she went out of her way to humiliate him, and she often wouldn’t stop until he was reduced to tears. Thankfully, no one from the outside world seemed to be aware of Connor’s new predicament. Something for which the young man was grateful. But deep down, there was a part of him that knew this wouldn’t last forever. Eventually the other shoe would have to drop. Which could hopefully mean freedom from his infantile prison and access to the trust fund he was owed. Or a lifetime of embarrassment if anyone in town ever discovered his new, baby-powder scented secret. And thanks to the calculated efforts of his Mommy, it was quickly looking like the young man’s life was swiftly careening towards the latter. Whether he had a say in it or not. __________ A Few Days Later... “Michelle…” Connor whines softly as he anxiously shifts from foot to foot. “Please don’t make me do this.” Heaving a weary sigh, his stepmother brushes past him to check on the quiche she had baking away in the oven. “For the last time, Conrad, I’m not making you do anything you haven’t already been doing for the last few months. And you know that’s not my name.” Realizing her dish still needed a few more minutes, she closes the door before turning to face the young man currently occupying her kitchen. “Who am I to you?” “Mommy. I–I’m sorry, Mommy.” He quickly amends, hoping to avoid wracking up any additional punishments. His bottom still ached from the spanking he’d received earlier that morning. “That’s better. Now, we’re having company over and that’s final. And you will be on your best behavior while they’re here, or there will be consequences. Is that understood?” She arches one perfect blonde brow for emphasis. “But can I…can I…” He stammers, wishing he could simply get the words out. “Can you…what?” An impatient Michelle crosses her arms over her ample bosom. “Spit it out or stop wasting my time.” “Can’t I please at least put on my underwear? Real underwear? I won’t have an accident, I swear!” Unfortunately, Connor was pretty sure he’d known the answer before he’d even summoned up the courage to ask the question. But when he’d found out the identity of the visitors she’d invited, it was worth a try. “Oh, Connie…” Her derisive snort seems to echo throughout the fairly large room. “Always so convinced you’re ready to be a big boy when you’re not.” “But I don’t want them to see me in a–” He cuts off mid-sentence as he feels his cheeks heat. “I don’t want them to know that I have to wear…this.” He finishes, apprehensively tugging at the waistband of his pants. “Well, why not?” Michelle glides over the fridge to take stock of treats she’d prepared for the afternoon’s festivities. “It’s for your protection, after all. Do you remember what happened the last time you went without your…protection?” The mocking lilt in her voice has him feeling about two feet tall. “Yes.” He mumbles, his gaze dropping to his socked feet. “And?” “I fell asleep and had an accident on the couch.” “Hmm.” Closing the door, she moves to take a seat at the kitchen table. Resting her chin on her palm, she makes it clear that he now has her full attention. “And what did Mommy do? What did she have to do when you had your little accident?” “You…you spanked me. With my paddle.” Connor swallows hard, his bruised bottom throbbing at the memory. “And then you put me in triple diapers for the rest of the week.” “And tell me – why did I do that, Connor?” His fists clench uselessly at his sides. “Be–because I took off my diaper.” The sound of Michelle’s tinkling laughter is enough to set his teeth on edge. “And is that something you’re allowed to do? Are you allowed to take your diaper off? Ever?” “No, Mommy.” “That’s right.” His stepmother then leans across the table to grab her cellphone – a right he’d been denied for months. Unless he managed to catch a bit of the evening news on television, he had no idea about what was going on in the world. “Frankly, I’m surprised you even had the gall to ask after the way I had to blister that naughty butt of yours for cursing at your sister.” Connor doesn’t bother to hide his grimace. He’d gotten a spanking this morning because of a stunt Delilah had pulled. How he hated her and her stupid ribbons. “Why don’t you tell me what’s got you so worried, little Connie?” Her feigned interest has her continuing to stare down at her phone. “I thought you’d be excited to have some company after all this time. You used to love Mr. and Mrs. Peters. Now out of options, the diapered young man visibly deflates. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to find out about his ongoing punishment. His reputation would be ruined. And he was pretty sure that he’d never be able to land another date for the rest of his life. “May I please be allowed to stay in my room?” “Absolutely not.” Pursing her perfectly painted lips, she sets down her device before beckoning him forward. Once he’s standing in front of her, Michelle lowers his pants to check the padding of his diaper. “You’re not that wet.” She gives his crotch an affectionate squeeze before turning him around to make sure he wasn’t hiding any other surprises. “And thank goodness you’re not poopy.” Pulling his sweats back up, she briefly goes quiet. A few moments pass before she finally speaks again. “Tell you what…” She pulls him closer, until he’s now perched on her knee. “Since you’re so worried about them finding out your secret, how about we change your diaper right before they get here? And then we’ll put you in your favorite onesie – the one with the easy snaps.” “Really?” He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but at the same time…he really was desperate. “And then we’ll put you back in your sweatpants, that way the Peters won’t notice a thing. After all, your diapers only swell up when they’re used, right?” “R–right…” “Now listen closely,” She boops his nose before continuing. “Because this is your one chance to show Mommy you just might have what it takes to start earning back all those big boy privileges you’ve been missing out on lately. When you feel like you need to go potty you come and tell me or your sisters right away. One of us will take you to the bathroom and help you with your diaper so no one has to find out. Deal?” Connor eagerly nods his head as relief blooms in his chest. “Thank you, Mommy. I won’t let you down – I promise!” Scrambling off his stepmother’s lap, he wanders off towards the living room to make sure it’s devoid of anything that could give away his secret. “You had better not, baby boy.” Michelle responds, as a cruel smile ghosts its way across her lips. “Even though something tells me that you already did…” ____ Four Hours Later... After what seemed like hours, the chime of the doorbell finally signals the arrival of their long awaited guests. Connor had been on pins and needles all morning, wishing that he could get the entire spectacle over with and move on with his day. He checks in the mirror one last time, silently reassuring himself that his so far still-dry diaper wasn’t readily visible beneath his gray sweatpants. As promised, his stepmother had dressed him in his least conspicuous onesie – the one with the easy snaps. Now, all he had to do was be polite and control his bladder long enough for someone to take him to the bathroom. It was pretty simple when he thought about it. “Connor!” Michelle bellows from down the hall. “Come say hello to our guests!” Resigning himself to his fate, he forces himself to make the trek from his room to the sitting area. Surely exchanging pleasantries with their neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Peters, wouldn’t be too painful. Hell, they might even forget he was there after the first few minutes. Rounding the corner, his well-rehearsed greeting swiftly dies on his lips. Because standing in the living room was the last person he could possibly want to see. It was his classmate Mallory, the nerdy girl who always volunteered to do his homework, accompanied by her mother. “As you can see, Connie.” His Mommy grins at him while handing off their jackets to his sister, Daphne. “There appears to have been a slight change of plans. Mr. Peters couldn’t make it, so Mallory agreed to tag along instead. Isn’t that nice?” Conner remains too stunned and nervous to speak as he watches Michelle eagerly direct their company to the delicious spread she’s laid out for lunch. Alarm bells were sounding in his head, demanding that he run and hide immediately. “Young man, you’re being rude.” His Mother scolds, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. “And you know I don’t tolerate rudeness in this household.” The unspoken threat in her voice hangs heavily between them. And that’s when it clicks that if he was going to survive the afternoon unscathed, he’d have to be very, very careful. All it would take is him breaking just one of her overbearingly meticulous rules for his secret to be exposed. “I–I’m so sorry.” Now that he’s got his feet moving again, he summons the wherewithal to shake their hands. First Mallory’s, and then her Mother’s. “I was surprised to see you, is all. Your daughter is the first person I’ve seen from school in quite awhile.” Instead of immediately responding, the older woman eyes him warily. “I heard you were arrested. Again. Makes sense that school finally had enough of you.” “Mom!” Mallory hisses, clearly embarrassed by her Mother’s unsolicited rebuke. “It’s okay…” Michelle assures them both before pouring Mrs. Peters a healthy glass of chilled Chardonnay. “While it’s true that dear Connie had yet another run-in with the law, after meeting with the school board, they were gracious enough to allow me to withdraw him instead of following through with their proposed expulsion. My baby boy got lucky.” She reaches over to affectionately ruffle his brown locks. “I can only assume you’ve taken up homeschooling him?” Mrs. Peters sniffs primly before taking a sip of her wine. “Assuming he’s willing to follow instructions.” “Oh, I can assure you that he’s been receiving quite the re-education.” She passes Connor a large bottle of water before instructing him to drink. “Remember, the doctor told you that you need to stay hydrated. You’ll need to finish that before you’re allowed a snack.” Connor feels his stomach drop as he accepts the offering. Because while he was thirsty, he knew that if he did as he was told he’d need to use the potty in no time. But that was okay, he told himself. Because his Mommy had promised to take him to the bathroom as soon as he asked. With that in mind, he finally allows himself to relax, if only just a little. While the two adults chatted idly, he listens to Mallory catch-him-up on the happenings he’d missed at school. From the football team’s record breaking season, to who was crowned this year’s prom king and queen, no topic off limits. Talking with her makes him feel good. Normal. Especially when it had been ages since he’d interacted with anyone outside of his mother and sisters. They were nearly an hour into the visit when he felt his bladder begin to show signs of protest. While he had yet to finish the entire bottle, he was close. But his body didn’t care. He knew he needed the bathroom. Now. “Um, excuse me? M-mom?” He mutters, trying to be as polite as possible with his interruption. Clearly annoyed by the prospect of being unable to finish her thougth, she turns to her stepson in a huff. “The adults are speaking, young man.” “I know, but…” Conner lowers his voice several octaves. “I need to go…to…” He trails off, assuming she’d catch the hint. However, he should’ve known that he wasn’t destined to be that lucky. “Go? Go where?” “The bathroom.” He mouths, while attempting to obscure his face from view. “Right now.” “Well, Mrs. Peters and I are in the middle of a conversation. You’re just going to have to wait like any other big boy your age.” With that, she effectively dismisses him, leaving him alone to panic. “Connor…is everything okay?” A confused Mallory asks. “Everything is fine.” He grunts, willing himself to take a deep breath as the pressure continues to grow. “Mom, please!” “For the last time, Connor!” She snaps, snatching his nearly empty water bottle and slamming it on the coffee table. How dare you keep interrupting me like this? I don’t have time to take you to the bathroom right now, so you’re either going to have to wait or go find one of your sisters. Am I being clear enough for you?” “Yes, ma’am.” He grumbles before anxiously rising from the couch, leaving his Mother’s dumbfounded guests behind in favor of tracking down one of his sisters before it was too late. Of course, that quest soon proves to be a colossal waste of time. Because while he manages to catch Delilah on her way out the door, she refuses to be of any help. She even takes it upon herself to loudly announce to anyone that was in earshot that she didn’t have the energy to deal with “pissy little diaper boys” today. Reeling from shame and praying that Mallory and her mother hadn’t overheard her rude declaration, he’d then gone about looking for Daphne. Which was how he’d ultimately found himself back in the living room. Following the sound of her voice, Connor and his now screaming bladder had scarcely set foot on the freshly steamed carpet before he realized just how dire his ordeal had become. “What’s up with all the yelling, Connie?” His sister mocks, adjusting her high ponytail. “You’re so needy all the time, it’s honestly starting to become a little embarrassing.” “Please.” He begs, feeling himself beginning to sweat as he continues to clench his thighs together. “I have to…I need…oh no…” Clutching the wall, he utters a pained groan as he feels the first hot stream of piss escape into his diaper. “Uh oh.” His sister coos, making light of his shame. Meanwhile, his unexpecting audience watches in stunned silence as the eighteen-year-old man slowly loses his battle with control. His knees buckle as he continues to soak his diaper with urine, forcing it to expand massively beneath the fabric of his sweat pants. “Jesus Christ!” Comes Mrs. Peters’ shocked gasp. “Did he just…wet himself? Look at that spot on his pants!” Sure enough, he had leaked. He didn’t have to check because he could already feel it. Michelle feigns surprise, covering her mouth with her hand in an attempt to convey her embarrassment. “Oh my goodness!” She cries before shifting her attention to their guests. “Janet. Mallory. I’m so sorry you had to see that. I’m afraid my little boy isn’t fully toilet trained yet.” “I can see that.” Mrs. Peters replies, her face aghast. “My…what a mess.” “I’m afraid raising him lately has been quite the challenge.” Michelle opines, reaching over to grasp her supportive hand. “It’s been hard, keeping Connie’s little secret like this. But it’s also necessary – the diapers, I mean. The poor boy has lost all control.” Their gaze strays towards a betrayed Connor, watching as he sinks to the ground. His body is wracked with heartbroken sobs. “I told you I had to potty!” He wails, falling on his back and kicking his feet. “Mommy, I told you!” “Does he always throw tantrums like this?” The older woman asks, her lip curling in disgust as she witnesses the young man behave worse than a toddler. “Sometimes.” His stepmother confesses with a sigh. “I thought we’d gotten a handle on it. But today’s been a big one for Connie. I imagine he’s a little overstimulated, but you can be sure it will be addressed before I put him down for bed tonight. Once she feels as though he’s suffered enough, Michelle finally gives Daphne the order to take him back to his bedroom for a much needed diaper change. Unfortunately, it does little to soothe the man’s severely wounded ego. But when his sister picks him up and sets him on his feet, he doesn’t protest. Lips trembling, a soggy and defeated Connor dutifully follows her to his bedroom – otherwise known as his nursery. Decorated in a symphony of pinks and purples, it had everything one might need to care for a precious little baby. Like him. “Aww, c’mon Connie. Don’t cry.” His sister coos once she reaches his adult-sized changing table, clearly not in the mood to deal with his theatrics. “You should’ve known this was gonna happen. You haven’t been able to stay dry on your own for months.” “But I told Mommy I had to go potty.” The young man pouts. “I told her and she didn’t listen. Instead she made me go ask Deliliah.” “That’s because Mommy was busy talking to the grown-ups. Any other boy your age would’ve been able to hold it much longer than you did back there. All you did was prove what the rest of us already knew – that you’re just not ready to be an adult. Now hop up. I’ve got shit I need to do.” “No.” Comes his defiant grunt. “I can change myself.” “No, you can’t. You know the rules.” One strong hand shoots out, taking a hold of his wrist and dragging him closer. “Now, I’m going to give you one last change to climb up here before I decide to do something to really embarrass you in front of Mrs. Peters and Mallory. Is that what you want?” As upset as he was, Connor is also keenly aware that his sister isn’t joking. Diaper changes were already a humiliating affair – both his sisters and stepmother made sure of that. What with all the constant teasing and taunting as they took their time wiping him clean of whatever mess he’d made in that moment. And to make matters worse, sometimes his little soldier tended to have a mind of its own, often creating the illusion that he was enjoying his mistreatment. Still holding back tears, he finally allows Daphne to help him onto the table. Once seated, she makes quick work of removing his sweats before beginning to undo the snaps of his now damp onesie. “Woah, baby boy.” She chuckles when she finally gets a good look at his thoroughly soaked diaper, taking a moment to pat his padded crotch. “Looks like somebody did a big wee-wee, huh?” Connor feels his face go scarlett as he forces himself to look away. He couldn’t believe this was his reality right now, especially when they had company just down the hall. And to make matters worse, his sister had left his door wide open, leaving him and his soiled diaper in plain view of whoever might be walking by. “Let’s get you into a dry diaper.” Daphne murmurs, her voice containing a hint of both sweetness and mockery. “Then you’ll be all better. Well, until Mommy decides if she’s going to spank your little bum bum for throwing such a big tantrum.” She doesn’t bother trying to mask her giggle as she shoves his favorite pink pacifier between his frowning lips. Then she goes to remove his onesie, lifting it over his head before moving on to his diapered-prison. Now completely naked, he can’t help the shiver that courses through him as the cool air makes contact with his bare skin. But he knows better than to try to hide or cover himself. According to Michelle, babies didn’t concern themselves with trivial things like modesty. “And there’s Mr. PeePee.” She takes a moment to study his tiny member, which is something she did fairly often. “Still tiny I see.” She muses as she reaches for a wipe. “But I like this little purple ribbon he’s wearing. It makes him look extra cute!” The young man can’t help but flush when he feels his penis twitch of its own accord, as if enjoying the praise. “Did Mommy do that for you? Or was it Delilah?” He struggles not to jump when the cold wipe finally makes contact with his heated flesh, starting with his thighs before slowly and meticulously making its way toward his hairless balls, sitting on prominent display like two plump little peaches. “Delilah.” He whimpers through his binky, willing himself to remain flaccid as he’s forced to remember how she’d taken her time dressing up his little member with the help of one of her many colorful ribbons. In an unusual act of defiance, he’d actually balked when she’d initially tried to put it on him this morning. Then he’d made the mistake of telling her to “go fuck herself”, which in turn had sent her off to find Michelle while he was mid-change. Both women had returned moments later, with his sister sporting a knowing smirk and his Mommy wielding his new wooden paddle. “Mmm…” Daphne’s ministrations then move to his increasingly sensitive member. Pausing to grab a fresh wipe, she begins gliding it up and down his unimpressive cock. Squeezing his eyes shut, Connor is just about to beg her to go faster when he’s interrupted by the sound of someone new entering the room. “I–I’m sorry.” The quiet voice squeaks. “I guess I must’ve gotten lost on the way to the bathroom.” It was Mallory. She was here. Now. In his bedroom. Watching him while he lay on his back, naked and exposed, with his legs in the air while he finished getting his diaper changed. Oh God, this couldn’t be happening. “It’s no problem – little Connie and I are almost done.” His sister chirps. “Aren’t we, baby boy?” Connor refuses to answer, preferring to let the silence stretch between them as shame and embarrassment seep out of every pore of his scrawny body. Meanwhile, Daphne continues to absentmindedly stroke him while engaging with their new guest. “Sooo…” Mallory drags out the word as she takes a tentative step closer, allowing herself a better look at her former classmate’s predicament. “Is this why you left school, Connor? I mean, everyone was talking about how your Mom kept them from kicking you out by homeschooling you, or whatever. But I’m pretty sure nobody would believe this…” “It’s a long story.” Daphne interjects on his behalf, before expertly gripping his ankles and lifting his bottom in the air, showing off the remnants of his morning discipline. “But suffice to say that this is his new life now. In fact, it has been for months.” She gently lowers him back onto the table, making a point to splay his quivering thighs even wider than what was really necessary. “Now that his secret’s out, he can focus on what’s really important. And that’s becoming a better, more humble, version of himself.” Her long fingers go to tickle the soft skin of his belly. “Isn’t that right?” “I…should probably leave you guys to it.” “Oh, it’s okay – seriously.” His sister responds dismissively as he sucks harder on his pacifier. “Privacy is a thing of the past for this guy.” She reaches down to grab a tube of cream and gives it a hearty squeeze, using her hand to thickly coat his butt, balls, and dick with the stinky paste. “Sorry about the smell, Mal. But the last time this baby ended up with a rash he was super fussy.” “I’ll bet.” Mallory murmurs, more to herself than anyone else, as she continues to process everything she’s seeing and hearing. “So does he use his diapers all the time?” And now that they were talking about him as if he wasn’t there, Connor wanted nothing more than for a sinkhole to open up in the floor of his nursery and swallow him whole. “All day, every day.” Daphne confirms. “I’m afraid the potty is off limits to Connie until he can be trusted not to have an accident or make a mess. He never was very good at aiming.” Her tone takes a conspiratorial turn. “Or at wiping his own butt for that matter. I’m sure you can only imagine the constant state of his underwear.” “So he…uses them too? Often?” “He does. These days it seems like he’s constantly wet. But sometimes he has a little trouble going number two.” She shrugs, wiping her hands on a nearby towel. Funny enough, she and Connor were both aware that she was dragging out this whole diaper change business. But there was nothing he could do about it. “But Mom keeps a special stash of suppositories on hand which always seem to work wonders on his stubborn tummy.” Nodding in understanding, Mallory allows herself to take a few more tentative steps into the nursery. She makes note of the crib and playpen, as well as the various blocks and toys that littered the floor. Later she would be forced to admit to her diary that she had found the entire scene to be utterly fascinating. “Are you the only one who—who changes him?” “Eh, my sister and I take turns. And my Mom helps out a lot too.” Hands dry, she reaches for the baby powder, liberally applying it to his crotch and bottom. “She does most of it, actually. Mom is usually the one to feed him and bathe him and stuff. And baby Connie here is thankful for that, otherwise he gets his bottom spanked. Like he did this morning.” At long last, Daphne finally grabs a diaper and places it under him. Meanwhile, Connor continues helplessly nursing his binky, all the while willing his unruly member to stand down. But it was almost like the closer his former classmate got, the more the stupid thing insisted on waving to get her attention. All three and half inches of it. “And does that always happen?” Mallory asks, her eyes focused on his cock. “Is it normal for him to be so…excited? Sorry for all the questions, but this is all new to me. I guess I’m just trying to make sense of it all.” As if finally noticing the young man’s discomfort, she tries to offer him what she hopes comes off as a supportive smile. “Sometimes.” Daphne concedes with a shrug, barely concealing her smirk when she sees a bead of precum leak from the tip of his swollen member. Instead she gives the other girl a playful nudge with her shoulder. “It doesn’t happen as much as it used to. He’s probably trying to show off since you’re here.” She lifts the front of his diaper before proceeding to securely fasten the tapes. “Not very impressive, I know. But it comes with the territory. If it ever gets to be too much, we call in Mom for back-up and she takes care of it.” Satisfied with her answer, Mallory ventures over to Connor’s crib. She runs her fingers along the bars as she observes the various stuffed animals strewn across the mattress. Next she makes her way to what appears to be an adult-sized rocking horse, her eyes going wide when she realizes that the man on the table most likely really did play with all of these toys. Toys that were intended for babies. “Can I ask who else knows about this?” She asks as she finds her way over to his chest of drawers. There’s no malice behind her questions, no cunning. Just genuine curiosity. Throwing caution to the wind, she takes her time opening each one, and is surprised when she finds a treasure trove of onesies, plastic pants, footy pajamas, bibs, and more. Jesus Christ. If anyone else at school found out about this, Mallory was pretty confident that Connor would never be able to live this down. “You’re the first. Well, you and your Mom, I suppose.” Spinning on her heel, Mallory watches as Daphne lifts her former classmate off the table before helping him into a new shirt. But she doesn’t allow him any pants. Perhaps because she believed there to be no point. His secret was out. At least where she was concerned. “Go on and play, baby boy.” A smiling Daphne shoos him away, continuing to ignore his pathetic little sniffles. “Big sis needs to finish talking to your friend, Mallory.” Left with no other option, Conner ambles away. This time choosing to hide in the confines of his adorable little playhouse. “If no one else knows, then why are you telling me? Aren’t you the least bit concerned that I might go out and tell everyone about what I saw here today? Connor would be…a joke.” Just as Daphne is prepared to respond, someone else manages to beat her to the punch. Her eyes dart to the door as her Mother and Mrs. Peters make their way into the nursery. “I’m afraid little Connor was already a joke long before he found his way back into diapers.” Michelle interjects cooly. “Breaking the law, causing mischief, being rude and disrespectful to the female members of this household…none of that makes you a real man. So, I’ve decided to give him another chance to grow up. The right way.” She saunters over to the entrance of the colorful playhouse, before yanking open the door. Reaching inside she all but drags a squealing Connor out by his ear. “We’re going to keep him like this until we’re sure he’s learned some discipline. As well as some respect for the women both inside and outside of this house. No self-respecting girl in this town or the next is going to give this naughty baby the time of day once they learn they might end up having to change his poopy diapers.” Of course, the subject of the discussion remains quiet as he continues to nervously suckle his pacifier. Mallory can’t help but wince as she witnesses the interaction. Because even though he had the reputation as being a bit of a self-serving prick, he’d never given her a hard time. Probably because she was on the nerdy side and always agreed to help him with his science homework. He would never see her as a potential love interest – a fact she had resigned herself to a long time ago. In his eyes, she was just the help. Eventually, she hears her own mother clear her throat. “This sure is a lot to take in, Michelle. And are you sure he was part of that group of vandals who tee-peed my house last halloween?” Mrs. Peters looks down her nose at the embarrassed young man. “It took us days to clean that up. And the eggs you miscreants threw ruined the finish on my husband’s car.” “I’m afraid so.” Michelle admits, her lips morphing into a delicate frown. “However, I can assure you that that kind of delinquent behavior is a thing of the past. But while we have you both here…” She plucks the binky from Connor’s mouth. “What do you have to say to these two lovely ladies? Speak!” At first, Connor struggles to answer. And he finds it almost impossible to meet their expectant gaze. That is until he hears his stepmother ask Daphne to go fetch the hair brush. “I’–m sorry, Mrs. Peters. A–and I’m sorry to you too, Mallory. For the mess.” While he knows it’s bad form to rush an overdue apology of this nature, his competing need for self-preservation has him stumbling over his words in an effort to finish before his sister returns. “F–for the toilet paper, and the eggs. That was wrong of me, and I’m so grateful that my Mommy is teaching me how to be a better, more upstanding citizen.” He tacks on the last part, hoping that it might earn him some brownie points. Both Mother and daughter exchange cursory looks as they mull over his apology. “Well, young man…” Mrs. Peters begins after a moment. “That was very, very naughty of you. Had I known you were behind it, I would’ve marched to your door and demanded you clean it up the very next day.” Awash with shame, Connor bows his head and simply prays for the moment to be over. All of this was too much for him to handle. If anything, he’s grateful when he’s once again allowed to have his binky. “But I am glad that your Mother finally has you on the right track.” She turns her attention back to Michelle. “And as for your earlier question, I suppose I’ll have to talk it over with Mallory, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem. Plus, I’m pretty sure she could use the extra cash, what with summer just on the horizon.” At that particular moment, Daphne barrels her way back into the room, her manicured hands holding the dreaded hair brush. “By the looks of it, I’m guessing you won’t be needing this?” She smirks when she notices Connor’s tear-stained cheeks. “Not until after our guests leave.” Taking the brush, his stepmother makes a show of resting it on his changing table. “But what you can do is say hello to little Connie’s new babysitter.” Clapping her hands in excitement, she takes the liberty of wrapping her arms around the girl and bringing her in for a hug. “She said yes?” His sister squeals, obviously pleased with this new development. “Not yet.” Michelle releases a stunned Mallory before taking a step back to give her a little more breathing room. “But I can tell she’s thinking about it. And perhaps I should add that the pay is negotiable.” The chatter continues, swirling around Connor with such a force that would’ve easily knocked him off his feet if he hadn’t already been sitting on the floor. He just couldn’t believe that in the span of one day – in no more than a handful of hours – he’d lost what little control he’d had left over his life. And now that Mallory and her Mom knew, he was certain that it was only a matter of time before the rest of the world found out. Overwhelmed by the ferocity of his emotions, he releases a despondent wail as he begins to rapidly fill his diaper. The quiet hiss of urine causes the ladies in the room to suddenly go silent as they watch his padded crotch expand in real-time. But try as he might, he can’t stop the nervous flow. “I said it before and I’ll say it again.” Mrs. Peter’s words come on the heels of a surprised chuckle. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed it.” Taking Michelle’s hand in her own, she offers a sympathetic squeeze. “Of course you have our discretion. Not that this young man deserves it – but this is obviously a very delicate matter.” Unfortunately, for a still-weeping Connor, his stepmother doesn’t appear to be moved by the other woman’s promise of privacy. “Oh, we don’t mind if people find out. That’s part of the reason we invited you.” She hauls him up to his feet before making a show of checking the back of his diaper for the disaster she was almost positive was on its way. A nervous wee-wee was nearly always followed-up by a nervous poo-poo. Another humiliating fact she had no problem sharing with the group. “Since I know Daphne just changed you, we’ll wait until you finish making stinkies before we even bother with getting you into a fresh diaper.” Looking back at his friend and her mother, she goes on to continue her earlier conversation. “Little Connie is going to need a babysitter this summer. My girls and I each have our own lives and pursuits, so we decided to enlist some help. They say it takes a village after all. Therefore, it’s only inevitable that others in the community are bound to find out.” She then proceeds to usher everyone out of the nursery in favor of returning to the living room, all the while keeping a solid grip on her stepson’s slim wrist. Patting his swollen bottom, she directs him a fresh set of blocks she had previously set in the corner. “We’ll know when he does his business.” Michelle prattles on as she and the other three women have a seat on the couch. “He usually gets on all fours, squats and grunts – it’s a whole production, really. But back to my proposal…” Mallory immediately perks up, her brilliant green eyes swimming with interest. “How soon would you need me to start?” “Ideally, as soon as possible.” His stepmother picks up her once forgotten glass of wine before taking a slow sip. “I’m well aware that these are a…” She casts another withering glance in Connor’s direction. “...shall we say, unique, set of circumstances. But what’s needed is needed. While school’s in session, I’ll need you a minimum two days a week, four hours a night. As well as every other Saturday, for six hours a night.” “That’s doable.” She adds a small slice of quiche onto her empty plate. “And the rate?” “I’m thinking $25 on weekdays and $35 on weekends. Of course…there’s always the possibility for more. I have no doubt that you’ll make a great fit.” Mallory takes a bite of her food, chewing slowly as she mulls over the offer. No matter how odd, there was no denying the fact the money was too good to ignore. At this rate, if she accepted, she’d have no problem saving up for college in the fall. Nodding to herself, she places the plate on the table before extending her hand to her brand new employer. “Alright, Michelle.” She beams, feeling grateful that she had agreed to accompany her mother this morning. “I’d say you’ve got yourself a deal.” END (PART THREE COMING SOON) Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think!

Hey everyone Im going to be moving down to SC in the fall and trying to find some new abdl friends and possibly a daddy/caretaker. Ive been a switch from time to time but I'm most comfortable as a baby and I really enjoy cuddling and sucking on my paci. I kind of also enjoy spankings too

Warning As with my previous stories, this one contains several elements inherent to the pre-established 'Diaper Dimension.' These include, but are not limited to: Diapers and their usage for their intended purpose Non-consensual mental regression through various means (Including possible drugs, hypnosis, and/or surgery) References to surgery to achieve various nefarious goals Humiliation Female domination Babying of adults (perceived or otherwise) Experimentation on humans Kidnapping Coerced or manipulated actions through possible means of white lies, gas lighting, or incentives Mild language or use of explitives Depictions of death, illness, or handicaps Graphic imagery associated with any of these warnings Depictions of non-consent and other forced actions of a sexual or other type of encounter Emasculation and feminization through various means and to differnt ends Degredation of human anatomy and mental status This story has not been labeled as mature, due to a lack of specific references to anything overtly sexual, but this warning serves as a 'turn back' point for any readers who do not wish to read about the previous warnings. Lastly, this list is subject to change during the course of writing this story. While most of the plot is ironed out, more warnings may be added if needed. Hey everyone! Welcome back and I hope everyone had as good of a break as I did! Work was stressful as usual these days, but it’s always nice to get away for a little bit from trying to meet my own personal deadlines, especially after such a large project as my last few stories were with some requiring all the completely new world-building and whatnot. Now, though, it’s just as equally good to be back and writing stories again. Unlike my previous story, due to how the system works here, I needed to be very precise in calculating everything out before I wrote a single word down. That being said, some of these chapters have proven to be temperamental and don’t quite make the page count I thought they were going to or are entirely too long for a single one. So, right now, the total chapter count stands at 27, but this is subject to change. Some of the later chapters are mapped out precisely as they are and won’t change, but some of the chapters in the middle may need to be altered or fleshed out to give more growth to these characters here. Which I guess is all to say that if the final tally of chapters changes at all, I will let you all know. Now, as much joy as I’ve derived from this story so far, I need to mention two caveats. First, I have based this story on a CYOA I found years ago. I’ve looked for the creator for at least five years now, but no such luck. I have also modified it for the story a little, but the concept is still there. Also, I should point out that because of some of the themes here, it will be a little coarser and more mature. I will try to give out warnings before some of the more intense scenes, but be warned, this one is not all fluffy diapers and pink princesses. Next, as is typical these days, I will post the next poll at the start of the following chapter. Looking ahead, I already know that this concept will be a one-off story, so there will not be a sequel in its future. With that in mind, the next poll will contain one DD story and two others that are a little more on the supernatural/spooky side. Because of this, I might try to put out more than three chapters a week and I might take a shorter break, but I think the stories are interesting enough on their own and plus, they have never been shown in one of my polls before. So, be on the lookout for all that next. Also, looking ahead, I’m absolutely tasking myself with writing/editing at least three chapters a week. That being said, with 27 current chapters and at least three a week, this will definitively bump into about mid-October, which means that I will be pausing at least at one point for a multi-day vacation. Once again, I’m headed down to Florida, but this time, it will be for some Halloween-themed events, so you just never know what twisted or fantastical tales I might come back with for new story ideas, so take comfort in the delay with the prospect of at least other future stories from me. Last but not least and as usual, I hope everyone enjoys this first chapter of my next story! Chapter 1: Starting Off, 35-01 Blindfold. Gag. My hands are behind my back and tied with something… rope, I think. The truck I saw for a brief second before getting hustled up into it has a rusty axel that’s connected to a suspension that bounces heavily each time that we hit a pothole or some other ungodly bump in the road. The sound of cars, machinery… even people… all that vanished at least three hours ago now. In the back of the canvas-drawn over truck, I can feel the intense heat rise all around me as each hour passes and the day creeps on. Thinking back, though, despite my current circumstances, I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised that this is where I ended up… but really, I just wanted a job again. * * * The suited man opens the door for me and gestures inside. I look and blink a few times at the sparseness of what I’m seeing inside the hole that is the room he is gesturing to. “You’re kidding, right?” The older gentleman glares at me from his at least six inches above me. “No. You want the help… you go inside. No questions asked and you follow the instructions… or you’re out. No exceptions.” I wince a little and even turn around to view the door I just came from. I recite over in my head how to make a quit exit in case I need to. ‘Three lefts, down one floor, and through the main lobby and the security there and then out the front doors.’ There, it would be freedom and the life I had… rather than a barren room of unknown before me. But I also know what’s out there waiting for me beyond those front doors. The world sucks for people in my position, and my pride went out the window the first time another bill came in without the funds to fully back even one or two more of them. Simply put… I’m desperate. So, with a deep plunging breath, I go forward into the room. Once inside, with a sigh, I sit in the far metal chair with my back to a mirror… likely a two-way like an interrogation room. I feel the hair stand up on my neck and a growl inside my stomach… warning me to run, but these people have me cornered with the prospect of opportunity. So, even as the main door closes to this little barren room, I can really only just sit there and squash my horrid feelings deep down. Now alone with my thoughts and trying not to assume or think the worst-case scenario, I look around the room and try and check if this is some trick or a test of some kind. ‘No… no hidden messages on the walls… no pen or paper. Not even a whisper of something I should be listening for.’ It’s just me and the singular metallic desk and two hard metal chairs… both cold and unfeeling as they slightly glint off the single overhead light that slightly pendulums back and forth. Gratefully though, not to long after, the door then reopens, and another suited man comes in with a manilla folder. His expression is mostly neutral but his taught features and cropped haircut reek of ex-military and no nonsense. I could immediately feel a tightness in my stomach, one which I try to will away as I shift slightly in the chair. The man then closes the door and sits down calmly and without even a single word back to me before opening the folder out flat on the table. I immediately notice my photo on the upper right holding on by a single paperclip. “State your name for the record,” he commands, taking out a black-cased pen from the inside of his suit jacket. I swallow hard and wish more than anything that a glass of water would have been right there in front of me in that moment. “Jack… Thomas.” The man pauses and looks up at me with a hint of a hateful and annoyed glared in his eyes. “Your full name, Mr. Thomas.” I hesitate for a moment, hating my middle name… always have, but the man keeps staring at me. Maybe if the room was pastel blue and I hadn’t been frisked on my way in, I might have asked a simple ‘why,’ but my present circumstances tell me that any perceived ‘backtalk’ or questioning would be unwise. “Jack… Marie Thomas.” I can’t help but say my middle name with a slight distaste in my mouth. ‘Stupid family name…’ As typically happens, as I say it out loud, despite likely knowing it beforehand and just confirming my identity, even the stern man before me seems to find my middle name amusing… Ultimately though, he says nothing about it. He then uses his pen to go through several more verifications of my identity… social security, gender, age. All typical for someone trying to confirm I am who I say I am. Working for the government before, all that at least doesn’t faze me. But then comes the questions afterward. At first, they seem pretty normal for someone in my situation… like how long I have been unemployed, or, what my financial situation looks like, but then they start to veer towards the realm of being highly uncomfortable as why they would even need to be asked in the first place. Questions like, “Do you have heart troubles?” or “Do you have any family that miss you if you were absent?” are among the more particularly alarming. Finally, after he asks me if I’ve ‘had any surgeries,’ I can’t take it any longer. “Okay!” I shout, standing up and forcing my chair backward toward the likely two-way mirror. “No more questions! I’ve answered everything from my size to sexual preference to even if I have any allergies to medications or latex! What the hell does that have anything to do with finding a job?” The suited man glares at me and calmly stands up, towering over me. “Sit down, Mr. Thomas. These are all vital questions, I assure you… and we’re almost done.” His calm presence slightly infuriates me and only adds to my already-present anger. “Sit down? That’s all?” I smack the table. “Screw this, mister! I’m getting out of here right this second!” I march toward the door, but as my hand touches the doorknob, the man speaks up once more. “Mr. Thomas… Jack.” He calmly walks over to me and stands right up against my left side, staring down at me… not with rage or annoyance, but almost a calm passivity of a parent to a child. It more than halts my efforts in leaving right away. “You will find no locks on these doors or any others in this building toward the exit. You are free to go anytime you please...” Determined and still disturbed, my hand turns the knob. “Well, then. I’m getting the hell out of…” “But I encourage you to stay,” he says resolutely in a way that stops my hand cold… almost like he knows something I don’t. He then walks back over to the desk and retrieves my file before switching it to one of the pages on the left side. “It says here you’ve been out of a job for about a month now, which you also just confirmed for me. I’ll stop the questions, but… let’s talk about that for a second.” He pauses briefly. “Promise. Nothing more.” I hesitate to move back to the table, but I at least remove my hand from the doorknob and reface him. If nothing else, he seems happy about that. “Good. Now, come back to the table and sit down. Or stand… I just want to lay out your options here, Mr. Thomas.” I grumble and nearly leave on the spot, but there’s an odd quality about this man that makes me stay. I don’t know what it is, but that intangible quality eases me up a little. So, at least curious now, I walk back over to my chair… but I don’t sit down. “Very good, Mr. Thomas.” He calmly flips through several pages in my file. “So, again… you were laid off from your job about a month ago, correct?” “Correct,” I confirm, feeling a little deflated at admitting that. “I knew it was coming though. I’ve been working part-time for almost eight months now. Budget cuts and all…” The suited man nods. “Yes. The economy isn’t doing wonders at the moment and there have been several cuts to federal programs. Seems like your program was hit but you managed to linger on… at least until last month.” “Yes,” I admit, my ego deflating even more. “And from your earlier confirmation and from what it says from the application you filled out online that you’ve been looking for a job since then?” he asks before looking up at me. “But nothing since?” I shake my head. “Nothing serious. Small positions. Some part-time work I’m looking at in the meantime, but… I need something more. You can’t live in this area without something steady anymore.” “Yes…” The suited man’s eyes nearly seem to glow with opportunity, happiness, and another quality underneath that would amount to something nearly sinister. I focus on that last bit. “I see all that on your file here. Some college debts remaining… ouch on those, but a car payment… three years from paying off, and…” He looks back up at me and squints his eyes. “No savings?” I shake my head, and I feel I can’t sink any lower now in this room, sitting in the chair in a slump of built-up defeat before this mysterious figure… a deflated and defeated individual. “No… I have some savings, but… the form asked if I had less than $1000 in savings… which I do. So, yes, some saving, but not enough to check off the box indicating something higher.” “I see… so practically nothing and you’re living on fumes now as well…” He doesn’t wait for me to respond as my silence does plenty of talking alone. “So, you see, Mr. Thomas… when I ask you these questions… I know they may be intrusive, but honestly, this is for a government position and what amounts to an ultimate handout. With the economy and layoffs recently, I’m sure you can understand that we have many candidates in search of work or money these days.” He lets his points hang in the air for a moment, each one a painful reminder of my desperation and how close I am to failing completely. I wished I could say I had backups or a plan to bail me out, but that would be a lie. My parents are far away and broke themselves after sinking their money into some long-term investment. My brother is too busy with his wife and a new kid on the way… and we aren’t even that close. And friends? Well, I’m not exactly a social butterfly and the loss of my job hasn’t helped with that any in finding new ones. The suited man has me cornered and while the door is unlocked… it might as well be a safe door as far as I’m concerned for leaving through it now. Despite my apprehension, I know that this is one of the few chances I have to get out of the hole I’m digging myself further into every day. And terribly, the suited man knows it. His underlying smile, so subtle as to almost even be unseen, ripples along and emphasizes my desperation and his next question. “So… may I continue?” Submissive to his whims and with the knowledge that I have nowhere else to turn, I merely nod my head. He smiles, but this time his glee is obvious over my compliance with what he wants. “Excellent. Now,” he flips another page from the right side of my file, “do you have any fetishes… sexual deviancies? I really try not to judge… Purely for the record.” An hour later I’m back out on the street in Washington D.C. It’s been my home for years now, but lately it’s felt more like a self-contained prison. Each Brutalist building contrasts heavily with the Greek Revival ones, but each seems like a slap in my face now as I pass by them. ‘That’s where I used to work…’ is my constant theme these days, and each day that passes without a solid job, those words feel more distant. So, in an attempt to blur my lines of what is real and what is crushing, I head to the nearest bar I can remember. It’s a small little thing and usually a pretty quiet behind the Archives building… mostly a place for stuffy politicians or glassy eye curators. For me, though, I just order a beer and sigh as I look down into it and the bubbles fizzing up from the bottom. It’s a small distraction, but it still work its magic and let’s me forget for a second… “Pretty shit, huh?” the bartender asks out loud, catching me off guard. I look up with bleary eyes and squint back at him as he polishes off another glass with his dish towel. “Huh?” He gestures to the nearby small TV, almost looking at odds with the rest of the older style bar in the district. Still, unlike most others in the city, it displays the news instead of sports. Most newcomers request to change it, but that’s not what this place is about, and they’re always shot down. In this place, it’s all about governmental policy and change. So, when I look up at the TV and see yet another news report, it’s not surprising, but the headline opens my eyes more than I care to admit. “Government eases testing standards for new programs.” It could be worse, especially in the modern climate, but still… it makes me wonder. “Hard to believe. Maybe chickens won’t be tested as well or something. Saving a buck or two, I guess…” I shrug, not really knowing the answers and not being surprised by most anything on the news anymore. The bartender eyes a nearby chicken sandwich with more than a little unease but ultimately collects it and comes back. “Maybe, but… ready for another round tonight?” He gestures at the once full beer in my hands currently. I sigh and stare at my nearly empty glass. I want another, but ultimately, I shake my head. “No, would love to but…” I don’t finish my thoughts and simply pull out my only 20-dollar bill and hand it over. From the change I get back, I am sure to still leave a decent tip. I might be screwed these days, but I just can’t find it in myself to tip poorly. I walk back to my apartment rather than taking the metro. It saves me a little money, and the walking feels good… despite the fact that the weather is unseasonably warm for this time of year. It especially doesn’t help as I make my way up the flight of stairs and to my actual apartment. Little beads of sweat are already pouring from my forehead as my keys turn to my barebones living space. With my previous job, I was never here much before, so I never felt the need for more. Now though, especially as I immediately go back to job hunting and checking my email, it feels especially lonely. Tonight however, while I’m looking through my emails, I see what I’ve been looking for now for a month. The newest email in my inbox blinks and is all in bold. “Your application has been accepted.” It’s all I can do to keep myself from jumping up and down in joy after reading the header of the fresh and beautiful email message. “Yes! Finally!” I briefly stifle my joy and check out the job… just in case of spam. To my utter relief, it seems all legitimate. So, not wasting a second, I quickly reply back to set up an interview. My hand nearly shakes the whole time I’m writing the email back to them. I can feel the electricity of the potential in the moment. It feels like… freedom… opportunity. Once I hit send though, I allow the waves of euphoria to fully pour through me. I’m electric… thrilled… jubilant. I jump up and after even do a little dance before snapping my fingers. “This calls for a celebration!” So, once more, I grab my keys and head out my door to the nearest convenience store. It’s small and a little dingy around the back, but they have a great selection of chips and ice cream… perfect for a little late night snack celebration. I almost go for chocolate and cherry, but considering the heat and the occasion though, I grab my favorite flavor of chocolate and peanut butter. It feels so good to clutch that pint of cold deliciousness in my hand and I even whistle slightly as I checkout. “Man, I wish I could be that happy about something,” the store owner tells me. “Oh, it feels great,” I acknowledge. “Just got a job application back and I’m waiting to set up an interview. I can honestly say that it’s the best news I’ve had in a month.” The store owner’s eyes light up and he smiles wide. “Congratulations, sir! Best of luck to you on that,” he says, handing me the receipt with nearly a bounce in his words now. Most people know the horrible state of the economy and the huge numbers of joblessness. An interview was always great before, but these days… it’s an even bigger deal. I smile even wider and take my receipt. “Thank you! I really think things are just about to turn the corner for me…” I then exit the store and head back to my apartment. I’m humming along the darkened street… a few lights out from the lack of maintenance. Crime is up in the area, but my apartment isn’t far, and I almost have developed sixth sense about these things by now. But I’m happy. That wouldn’t be a problem normally, but I’m nearly in bliss. There’s something so alluring and free about the prospect of an interview for me. It’s a light at the end of the tunnel and a beacon of hope I can turn toward through the rough storms that is my life at the moment. It should all be grand. I’m even whistling a bit once again and focusing just on what is in front of me. I’m distracted. I don’t hear the crack of a twig on the sidewalk behind me like I normally would. I don’t pay attention to the rubber turning on the pavement off to the side or the deft footsteps on the alleyway down on my left. I’m oblivious to all other things other than my own happiness that yes, I’ve turned the corner in life. Yes, most absolutely, things will be different. Turns out… just not in the way that I wanted. The personnel that surround me are very quick. Professional, burly, and imposing masked figures. They bear no insignia, and I can’t make anything out of them except their maybe six inches to a foot in height and maybe 30 pounds of muscle over me at least. One gets me from behind and places their hand over my mouth with some kind of cloth. Two go for my arms quickly after and lock me into place. The fourth goes for my legs in a vice-like grip. I can’t move and I’m being hauled away… right down the darkened alleyway and into a van. I try to scream. I try to flail around… but it’s useless. I’m useless. I’m packed into the black van in seconds, and I hear the side sliding door crunch over on its tracks and then slam shut before the vehicle lurches away. I barely move with how I’m still being held. No voices around me. Just hand signals and quick and efficient meaty hands that go to work around me. I’m locked in and I can’t do anything about it. Darkness starts to envelop me. The van is dark and curtains black out most of the light, but quickly, I know with terrifying horror that this is something more. My limbs become heavy. The fight inside me begins to fade whether I wish for it or not. I want to kill these people… at least scratch or beat them senselessly and flee back into the night and up to the relative safety of my apartment. But those are the actionable desires of someone fully conscious. Simply put, that isn’t me anymore. A hand is still over my mouth. Though the edges of my world begin to blur, I still smell something chemical in front of me. ‘The white rag covering my mouth and nose must be laced with something.’ There’s no other rational explanation for how I’m feeling right now. It’s a terrible sinking feeling in my gut. But it doesn’t matter. The figure that was once holding my legs now comes over to me, and while the van is still mostly black, a flash of light streams in from the front and highlights the metallic cylinder precariously balanced in their hands. The needle at the tip almost seems to sparkle and drip with something magical and yet unwanted. I’m not a genius, but it doesn’t take one to realize what is about to happen. With my last efforts of strength, I thrash about. But again, I’m useless. Before, it was the locked position of the personnel holding and pinning me in place. Now, I feel their grip is still locked but now significantly loosened. If anything, my efforts against them come off as simply pathetic. So, whether I wish it or not, the person takes advantage of my uselessness and weakness and comes forward. Before I can even attempt to scream out, he quickly jabs the needle right into my arm. It burns heavily and I wince and try to scream in pain as it plunges deep. But again, I’m useless. I’m powerless to stop anything, and worse… the blackness, at first creeping, now surges forward around my vision like a crashing wave. Now, there is nothing more. I feel nothing. I am nothing. * * * The bumps that jostled me awake earlier are no less smooth now than they were previously from what had to be at least three hours ago. I have to pee something fierce but the truck I’m bound, gagged, and blindfolded in has shown no signs of stopping. Occasionally, I hear something on the radio or hushed whispers, but that’s about it. I could forgive anyone from thinking that it meant I didn’t know anything. True, I couldn’t hear or really touch anything, but my other senses were ever more focused. I had watched a documentary last year about a woman who fled her kidnapper and because she remembered the sound of a train going by not long before the car she was in stopped, the police were able to later apprehend her kidnapper. So, drawing at least a few parallels between our situations, as soon as I had come to my senses, I tried to figure out anything I could in this less-than-ideal situation. The road was rough and bumpy. As I noted before, it’s what jostled me awake after I had passed out in D.C., but that was another prominent thing. Also, yes, it was summer in D.C., and the old swamp area was particularly humid, but now… it is still hot around me, but more of a dry heat. I feel the sweat accumulate slightly around my body in the back of the truck… likely poorly ventilated and maybe even open to the outside in places. I’m not entirely sure about that, but the heat and lack of humidity tell me that I’m nowhere near to where I live. Potentially problematic, yes, but also telling. Loving to travel, I’ve been to most of the surrounding states near D.C., and what’s absolutely certain, nowhere right now is receiving dry heat as their weather forecast right now. It’s either something akin to the swamps of Satan or the near drownings of a wretched batch of storms in the areas… not this. So, I begin to check off in my mind where I could be. ‘Definitely west of the Appalachian Mountains… but no cold or extreme breezes of the Rockies… plus maybe too far. Back roads definitely… so not near a city. No traffic lights either, since we haven’t stopped once, so that kills a lot of places as well. Figure a straight drive since last night and the amount of heat… intense and not boiling but growing… means early or midday… but that also would only place me somewhere along just east of the Mississippi longitude from when I was kidnapped last night to now.’ I paused and winced. ‘No… that’s not right, so… crap. Was I out for a whole day already? My bladder… shit. I’m even further west. Maybe a full day then… Still a big area though. Doesn’t narrow it down too much, but it’s something.’ I hope I’m wrong in most of that in a way, since going to a barren area hardly ever spelled something good, but considering I was kidnapped already… my luck doesn’t seem that good. The truck bounces me about a few more times and my need to pee is near to the bursting point. I try thinking about almost anything else, but that’s proving an issue. Between my hunger, my bladder, and my confinement, I nearly feel bugs crawling over my skin in a near phantom itch to move… to run. Just… anything more than this. I try to speak, but the gag prevents anything but a muffled sound emitting instead of the pleas to let me go or at least let me move around that I truly intend. It does attract the attention of my kidnappers though… “Hey, you!” a gruff voice nearly growls at me. “Cut that out. We’re almost there, so just sit tight. We can’t hurt you, but we can make your last moments out here very miserable.” I feel a hand shove me slightly back. “So… what’s it going to be? Stay calm or are we going to have to get… creative?” I sense his threat is exactly that. There was no hesitation or even any signs of a bluff on his part. This man, whoever he is, seems to have both done this before and be pretty okay with it and whatever else was necessary in his role to subdue me. So, weighing my options, considering my current state of being trapped, mute, and blind… I settle down and don’t say a word. The man chuckles. “Good boy. Maybe there’s hope for you yet…” His words do nothing to help the already pent-up and dreading feeling I had since I had been taken. Still, despite his gruffness and threats to use possibly violence or torture or some other nasty thing against me, the man was at least telling the truth that we would soon arrive. The van quickly lurches to a stop. A few shuffling noises later, my blindfold is finally removed. I have to blink a few seconds as the light streams all around me from the windows in the front and the back. I find it strange that the van is so open like that now as compared to last night with the curtains on the windows, but the figures in front of my vision fully distract me from any further thoughts on the matter. Masked and geared to the hilt, they exude an ex-military vibe that I often saw in my previous job when dealing with mercenaries and security personnel we contracted out for our safety sometimes. Not saying a word, the lead man then points out the door that is soon opened. More light floods in and I look back to the man who gestured to the door for more answers. I’m not sure why he isn’t just using his words, but at this point, I remember the veiled threat before. Whatever this is, I absolutely don’t want to make it uncomfortable… or at least more so than it already is. The man simply waves his hand at me out the door. I take his meaning this time to exit the vehicle. I’m still gagged, and my hands are bound together tightly… uncomfortably at this point, but again, I don’t want to cause any more problems for myself. Simply put… between the dry heat, the backroads, lack of traffic lights, and the amount of time it took to get here and stop, I don’t like my chances of escape. Terrifyingly, my suspicions are confirmed when I exit the vehicle. Desert… or at least at best a barren wasteland of dried-up prairies stretches for what seems like miles in all directions. Hazy mountains flank to the west, and to the east… nothing. I think I see a shimmering glint of maybe a tower… a fence… something, but definitely not civilization. If anything, even those signs of something else seem to reinforce the barrenness of where I’m currently standing. Another masked and geared man comes up to me and holds up a tablet of sorts near my head before glaring right at me. “Confirm… Jack Maria Thomas,” he directs right as another man removes the gag from my mouth from behind. I smack my mouth together a few times in an effort to remove the nasty threads left on my tongue. I can already feel the dryness of a lack of water from all that time, but I also see the masked man’s eyes. Sharp, focused… full of duty, sternness, and no-nonsense. I saw the same in the other man and I know not to screw around, but I know I need to try. “Please… just let me go and…” “Confirm,” he presses again, this time with a small amount of anger behind his voice and one of his fingers seemingly itching toward the stock of the gun he’s carrying as well. I swallow hard at the scene, and I nod as fast as I can. “Yes… that’s me.” I take a breath. “But what…?” “Silence.” His voice isn’t annoyed, angry, or even shrill like I might has expected. Just more to the point and focused on the task he seemingly has to perform. To me, it seems we both have our roles to fill… ‘Definitely not the overall leader of this thing.’ The man taps a few more things on the tablet before him, before strangely looking dismayed. I almost question him, but with everything going on around me, my thoughts bounce from one subject to the next and his looks take a momentary backseat. My vision moves from the desert landscape to the horizon line, to the distant mountains, to the men with guns… and then even to what I am currently wearing. Before, back in D.C., I was still wearing the suit I had worn to the interview earlier in the day. I had removed the suit jacket once I got home, but the button-up shirt and pants were definitely still attached to me. Now, they’re gone and in their place is a faded green prison jumpsuit of sorts. I swallow hard at the implications… Finally looking up from his tablet, the man looks at me once more. “Okay… here’s your situation. In a moment, you’re going to a bunker of sorts. You will be there for one year, and at the end… you’ll get a substantial payout for your services.” I frown back at him in confusion, but I keep my mouth shut, my eyes still drifting to the rifle attached to his body. ‘Definitely not where I thought this was going…’ “I see you have questions,” the man notes, stepping closer to me, “but they will have to wait. We need to do two things right now. First, know there are only three ways out of this.” He holds up one finger. “First… quit. You do that and all the money reserved for you at the end will be forfeited, and you will receive no government assistance of any kind afterward.” He holds up a second finger. “Two… flee. You try to escape, and…” He pivots over and points to the shiny point at the distance I had seen earlier. “You see that?” I quickly nod. “Good. That’s a watch tower. They’re all around you,” he notes menacingly as he gestures in a circle around where we’re standing before he rests his hand on his large gun. “They have guns just like this one… or even much larger. You escape; they have the option to shoot you on sight. You survive; you go back and incur a penalty… a harsh one.” He glares at me. “I wouldn’t suggest that route.” I wince but note internally that there’s still one more option. “And third?” I ask hesitantly, the first two options seeming truly terrible and hoping beyond measure that somehow the third would be more reasonable. “Third…” He smirks down at me, his few inches of height over me seemingly a lot more in our current roles. “Well, third is that you finish the year here. It might seem like a burden and impossible in the days ahead, but considering the others, I would still recommend option three.” Again, I quickly nodded. Another person, feistier and more combative might have fought, but that wasn’t me. I was trying to use my head, and simply put, I saw my options and the remoteness of where I was. Fight, escape, and flee, but to where? Out here, even if I managed to avoid the towers with big guns, my survival out here wouldn’t be guaranteed in the slightest. So, as much as a little voice inside my head was telling me to, my instincts told me as plain as day that fighting back would be pointless… foolhardy at best. “Very good. Maybe there’s hope for you after all…” He smirks and turns back to his tablet before holding it back up to me. “Now then… in you go…” I blink back at the man and look around. “Go? Go where?” The man points nearby and while I have to squint my eyes to see it, only about thirty yards away is what amounts to a slit in the ground. Only about 20 feet long, I see the ground plunges inward and leads to a submerged door right under the surface of the soil above. All of it concrete… devoid of emotion… uninviting. I feel a cold splinter of fear enter my heart. “Wha… what’s down there?” I ask, a weakness and subsequent trembling sensation beginning to take over my limbs as the true measure of my situation begins to unfold before my eyes. “That…” the man noted smugly. “That… is your new home for the next year… or at least the entrance to it.” He pauses for a minute, but me still not budging, the man then scowls back at me and raises his rifle barrel to my chest. “Now… I said to move. Or are you going to be giving us a problem already?” I see his rifle. I see the desperation of my situation being stuck in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by towers that had ‘shoot on sight’ orders. It was horrible, but it was that or the unfeeling bunker-like entrance now before me. Underground and heavy duty… there now seemed to be a permanence to my situation that I hadn’t felt before. I didn’t want to go down there. That’s for sure. I had read and heard about these things before… down there meant torture or death or imprisonment. I would be lucky to ever see the sun again. But… the gun in the hands of a scowling and tough ex-military masked figure before me presents an unmistakable choice, death or compliance. Unlike the previous man in the van before, the one in front of me had made no such promises of not hurting me. Somehow, the van ride now felt like the preliminary phase of all this, but now that I was here, the stakes of it all… the reality and actual event seem to be at my feet now. I didn’t like it… but I knew my options… and their limits. So, I meekly raise my still-bound hands as best to surrender and walk over to the entrance… no fight… no protest… Again, despite him still aiming his gun center-point at my chest, he smiles and soon follows me over to the slit in the ground that is to be my ‘home’ for the next year. Stopping right before the steps to the door, I turn around and hold my bound wrists up. “Can I… well, can I at least be free before I go down?” I try to widen my eyes and seem as desperate as possible. I want to stay strong, but I felt there was a wide gap between entering the creepy bunker with my hands bound versus them free. So, I had to try at least. There’s a grumble and an annoyance from my masked captors, but the main leader nods his head to one of the other men behind me. This new masked man comes at me hard and quickly flicks out a long knife from one of his chest pockets. It shines underneath the desert sun; glinting and deadly. I wince and shut my eyes… painfully aware that I’ve likely lost the protection that was once promised to me before. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, with everything going on, I’m no longer taking anything for granted… not even my safety or my life. But the man only ambles over, roughly takes my wrists, and cuts the rope that was binding them together. I open my eyes and see my now free wrists. “Thank you…” I muster out. The man only grunts and turns away… leaving the leader to point his gun once more at me. “Alright… you’re free. Now, down you go.” Again, his actions are clear, and his gun speaks the volumes that he doesn’t. It says threat and deadly force is now authorized on my hide. It says this is serious business and whatever awaits me in the hole, in case I already knew what was happening, isn’t going to be much better… or at least to the point where they would need to threaten me with entering or face down death itself. I rationalize that most things are better than death and then place my foot on the first step going down. My knees wobble as I turn around full now and head down the stairs. The morning sun begins to arc overhead and fill the hole with light, showing off all the dust floating around in such a barren climate. I see the door ahead of me… it’s shine in stark contrast to the rusted stains on the concrete around it… almost like the place had recently been repurposed… like I was the first guest to come here in years and precautions to keep me in needed to be upgraded. Seeing all that, my hands tremble as they reach out to the large wheel to open the door before me now. But, just in case, I turn around and look one last time at the leader. “I…” I don’t get to finish my thought… my counter to all this, hoping to plead one more time to leave. Instead, the man points his gun at me, but this time… he also makes sure to place his eye along the top rail of the gun, aiming at me with deadly precision. His new actions are clear to me now. Get into this bunker-like structure underground now and be a smear against the door instead. With such an ultimatum, I snap back to the door. I reach out with both hands this time and turn the wheel. It creaks and moans in an awfully hellish way like I am about to enter the very bowels and devilry of the earth. My stomach drops more, and I feel a single bead of sweat perspire on my forehead as the wheel finally budges. It turns and turns some more… the door finally opening. Inside is just another set of stairs downward. Darkness enshrouds more than a few feet, and I hesitate, but my ears pick up the faintest clicking noise. With my last job and growing up with a few who took me to a shooting range, I knew that sound… it was a gun loading its ammo… the weapon aligning with the bullet. Next stop, my head… my body. I have no choice. I don’t even turn around this time to plead to be let go or question a thing. I simply walk forward to my fate, sheer blinding light behind me and nothing but cold concrete and darkness before me. I swallow hard and give myself over to be swallowed by the earth and whatever this place is. Fully in, the door slams behind me. To my relief a few lights flicker on ahead of me. The stairs don’t descend as far as I originally thought but the ominous cramped feeling of all this place gives me a terrible case of claustrophobia. I immediately want out, but a quick turn of my head only reveals a thoroughly shut door behind me… and no handle or even a wheel to let myself out even if I chose that option and forfeited the end prize. Now, whether I want it or not, I’m truly trapped. Suddenly, a speaker overhead crackles to life. The sound coming from it takes a second to synch and come in as more than static, but even in the old-fashioned clicks and echoes of a speaker system at least thirty years old now sounds like, the words are very clear. “Keep moving.” I don’t know why, but I merely nod my head in compliance. I can’t go back. The sealed door and lack of egress proves that at least ten times over in my head. I can only go forward, and now with the lights… it’s not just wandering around blindly in the dark. It’s a concession for sure as to how far I’ve fallen into this terrible plot seemingly against me, but again… I feel I have no choice, or at least not a real one... Wandering down the staircase, holding onto the rail the entire time, I eventually come to a landing zone of sorts before another door. The speaker in front of me this time crackles once more. “Scan your hand on the pad in front of you.” I look and that beyond the grungy metal fittings and the leaking concrete in places, there is a brand-new electronic system… right next to where there is a large pad. It blinks a few times and then stops. Looking around, I don’t see any traps, so, I sigh and place my hand on the pad as instructed. The pad hums and blinks a few times before turning green. “Excellent,” the voice behind the speaker says once more. “You may proceed inside.” A hiss follows and the large metallic door before me opens wide. “Step in,” the voice calls out overhead. Not wanting to stay any longer in the hallway than I need to, I step inside… only to wish I saw just about anything else. Inside is only what I could describe as a jail cell. A simple plastic-like faded green bed has been shoved against one wall. The most basic metallic and uninviting toilet and sink are against another. A barred door is at the other end and as if I didn’t remember for whatever reason, the other door behind me slams and hisses close. Curiously, as I turn back, I am only greeted by a flat wall with a single seem around the edges of where the door had opened up. It’s all cold, barren, and unfeeling… except the electronic device in the corner of the room. Compared to everything else, it seems out of place. Not much larger than an oversized notebook, it blinks to life, and a single plain computerized image of a person appears. “Come here,” the voice from before says without emotion, now sounding more like a computer recording than an actual human being. I step forward cautiously and for whatever reason, I wave at the thing. “Hello?” “Greetings… candidate 35-01.” Again, the voice grates and there’s almost a synthetic whine behind it as well. “Please confirm identity and place hand on screen where indicated.” Like before, I see the blinking panel just to the left of the computerized plain head staring back at me. I sigh and place my hand where instructed. “Jack Marie Thomas.” I was starting to get annoyed at having to say my name… particularly my middle name, so often. A ping goes off and the voice returns. “Welcome, 35-01… Mr. Thomas. You have been selected by the government from a contest of over a thousand candidates to participate in a year long study and observation, known to authorities as ‘Operation Hebe.’ During this time, you will be required to make certain selections in order to facilitate your life… benefits or consequences.” The screen then changes to a counter, but to my dismay it starts simply at 100 and then counts down to only 5. “These are your starting points. As you will see, think of these as a money system of sorts. The more you have, the more you can obtain. All candidates are assigned what you will find labeled as the ‘jail cell.’ You may opt out of this at any time but know that your points can never equal less than zero. Answer, ‘acknowledge’ that you understand this.” Seeing the numbers count down to only 5 quickly gives me an uneasy feeling in all this. I feel queasy… faint and dizzy too. I nearly fall over right then, but I place one hand against the wall at the last second and take a deep breath. “Acknowledge.” The words feel like poison over my tongue, but I don’t see many other ways out. “Recorded.” The screen then flickers briefly and then changes to a large screen with several labels on it. Even in my brief look before it flashes away, I see two labels… listed as ‘Makeup’ and ‘Owners.’ “What the fu…?” “Please, 35-01,” the electronic and mostly faceless voice interrupted. “Look through these first few categories that are mandatory. We will give you some time to choose as we know this may be a shock to your system, but your non-compliance will be met with punishment.” The screen flashes back to the selection options. ‘Makeup’ and ‘Owners’ appears, but so do others before the screen switches once again to one labeled at the top as ‘Medicine Effects at 6 Months.’ My eyes instantly widen in shock at the options… particularly with the flashing ‘Selection of One Mandatory’ sign near the top, highlighted all in red. “Hair growth? Incontinence? Penis shrinkage? IQ drop?” I yell out at the screen to where I once saw the lifeless computerized head of the only voice I had been hearing down here. “What the hell is this place?” I smack the bars next to the screen, but there is no response. It’s just me here… me alone with these horrid options. Me alone in a self-described ‘jail cell.’ Me alone after being kidnapped and now confirmed to be part of the government. I slump on the bed in realization of everything clicking together. “The government… the interview I did…” Me, the homeless, ex-government employee walked right into this trap. I wanted a job, and now… for the next year, I seemed to have one. My mind swirled, but it didn’t last long. “35-01. Please make your choice. You now have one hour to make your choices… or suffer the subsequent punishments,” it calls out, its electronics seeming fragile in this state as it droned on. I look over at the still-flashing screen and the selection I have to make. Considering the methods that were employed to get me here… the guns… the towers… the desert… even the bunker I was now in. It all leads me to the same conclusion… punishments mean business here and finding out what they were was ill-advisable to say the least. I sigh and stand up. “Fuck… this is going to be a very bad year…”

18-year-old Benjamin has just been evicted from the college dorms after he has failed out of college for the semester. He sits in the student lounge with his bags while he figures out his next moves. His former professor Megan is talking to her faculty friend and sees him sitting alone. She is confused because he is supposed to be in her class for the semester. "Hi Ben. I missed you in my class this semester. Are you okay?"

Hi to anyone that reads this i would love to find a mommy and daddy or just a mommy or just a daddy or 2 mommies or 2 daddies to roleplay with. So here is my idea: My names valeria and im 16 years old. I grew up being bounced around from group homes to foster homes practically all my life that i could remember which has not been so well with so may group homes and foster homes with too many kids to care for. I knew in two years i would be aged out of the system once i turn 18 and would have no where to really go let alone much money to get by. I'm small for my size and could pass for a toddler if people questioned it which thankfully not many have but after awhile it becomes frustrating to have to prove my age as some don't believe me even if i showed them an id. I decided one night after ive been left in my 8 foster home i manage to sneak out with just a small backpack with not much stuff in it as i needed to get away and hopefully have a new start somewhere in a new town or even in a new state as long as no one notices i ran away and don't end up caught. Its been about 3 months after i managed to get pretty far away from that horrible foster home as i did risk sneaking on to different buses and trains being lucky that i was small enough that busy people don't notice a thing. I wander in to a town as i have hopefully enough money to get something small from a diner or food market. I decided to try the diner as i go over to a bar stool and struggle to get on to it hoping i don't bring attention to myself as the diner didn't seem too busy just a few families, couples and people that go alone. Once on the bar stool i look at the menu hoping it won't be expensive as i really was hungry after scraping by with some days eating very little to make any food i had last.

Margaret peggy is for short who is 16 years old is getting jealous of her sister who is the product of her mother new marriage. And is feeling left out and decided while her mom and stepdad and sister are out that she will try one of her sisters diapers out.

Hello, I'm an experienced attractive ABDL Mommy looking to meet up with adult babies of any gender for baby sitting. I'm also interested in babysitting men who are babygirls. I would like to adopt an adult baby, however I don't like to jump into this dynamic quickly, so I'm open to first dating, then babysitting. If there's a connection, then I might be open to adoption. I have an excellent reputation as a Mommy in the New England community. I am looking for a real relationship and lifestyle dynamic, not online roleplay.

(This is my first post, hope im doing it right 🤞) Looking to chat with other diaper girls and mommys and talk about the different experiences they've had since im new to diapers and just got my first pack 😛

Hi guys! I finally got a Subscribestar. All of my stories are being uploaded there, plus a lot of new content, including in-progress content like Diapered Stepmother, The Regression Act, and Like Mother Like Daughter. Check out my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Chapter One The Job Jake crouched in the shadows of the sprawling estate, the weight of his duffel bag pulling slightly on his shoulder. He adjusted his gloves, the cool leather stretching snug over his knuckles, and scanned the mansion for signs of life. It was massive, the kind of house people dream about when they imagine making it big. Jake smirked. For him, it wasn’t about dreams. It was about opportunity. The place looked dead—no cars in the driveway, no lights on in the windows. Exactly as his research had suggested. He’d spent weeks watching this house, noting the schedules of anyone who came and went. No one was supposed to be home tonight. His breath fogged in the crisp night air as he moved to the side of the house. The lock on the basement window was a joke. A couple of minutes with a thin blade, and it popped open. He slid inside quietly, landing on carpeted floors. The faint scent of lavender hit him as he straightened, but he ignored it. Focus was everything now. Jake pulled a small flashlight from his pocket, the beam barely cutting through the darkness. His goal was simple: quick in, quick out. Jewelry, cash, maybe electronics if he had time. Nothing too bulky—stuff he could flip fast without raising eyebrows. The mansion was even more ridiculous on the inside. Everything was oversized, polished, and pristine. It screamed wealth, from the marble flooring to the ornate chandeliers. Jake’s chest tightened slightly as he moved through the rooms, his footsteps silent on the rugs. This kind of place was out of reach for guys like him—always had been. But tonight, a small piece of it would be his. The first haul was easy. A couple of expensive watches from the bedroom dresser, a sleek tablet, and a gold bracelet from a jewelry box on the vanity. Jake worked efficiently, his movements automatic. He didn’t stop to admire the decor or question how someone could afford all this. It didn’t matter. What mattered was getting out before anyone noticed anything was gone. Then he found that room. Jake paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. Something about this one felt different. The rest of the house was all open spaces and luxury; this door was plain, almost out of place. It was locked, but the lock itself was basic—a cheap tumbler mechanism. Jake didn’t think twice. A quick twist with his pick, and the door clicked open. His flashlight beam swept across the room, and he froze. It wasn’t a storage room. It wasn’t an office. It was something... bizarre. The walls were painted pastel pink, and shelves lined with stuffed animals and other childish knick-knacks hugged the perimeter. But the furniture was what hit him the hardest—an oversized crib, a highchair clearly made for an adult, and a wardrobe partially open to reveal rows of frilly dresses that could only be described as costumes. “What the hell...” Jake muttered under his breath, taking a step inside. The smell here was different—sweet, powdery. Something about it turned his stomach. Curiosity outweighed caution. He walked further in, his gloved hand brushing over the smooth wood of the crib. He didn’t understand it. What kind of person owned a room like this? A joke? A kink thing? His brain scrambled for an explanation that made sense. Rich people were weird—he’d seen enough during his jobs—but this was on another level. Jake moved to the wardrobe, reaching for one of the dresses. He wasn’t sure why. Something about it felt unreal, like he needed to confirm it wasn’t some elaborate prank. The fabric was soft and frilly under his fingers, and he quickly dropped it back into place, disgust curling in his gut. A sound behind him made his blood run cold. The lights clicked on, and Jake spun around, his heart slamming into his ribs. Standing in the doorway was a woman. Tall, elegant, and composed, she had sharp features framed by dark, perfectly styled hair. She wore a sleek black dress that hugged her figure, and her heels clicked against the floor as she stepped inside. Jake’s instincts kicked in, and he dropped the flashlight, reaching for the knife in his pocket. Before he could pull it, the woman raised her hand. “Don’t bother,” she said, her voice smooth but commanding. “You’re not going to use that.” Jake hesitated. Her eyes pinned him in place. She didn’t look scared. She didn’t even look angry. She looked... amused. “Listen, lady, I don’t want any trouble. I’m leaving.” His voice sounded shaky to his own ears, and he hated it. He didn’t wait for her to respond. He moved toward the door, but she blocked his path. “I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere, Jake.” The sound of his name stopped him cold. His chest tightened as panic bubbled up. “How the hell do you know my name?” The woman smiled, and it sent a chill down his spine. “Oh, I know everything about you. Your name, your little ‘side hustle,’ even the last three houses you broke into. You’ve been sloppy.” Jake’s grip tightened on the knife. He could push past her. He could run. But something about the way she looked at him made him hesitate. “I could call the police,” she continued, tilting her head. “Show them the security footage of you breaking in. But that’s not nearly as interesting as what I have in mind.” Jake’s mouth went dry. “What are you talking about?” Her smile widened, and she stepped closer. “I’m offering you a choice, Jake. Prison... or me. Stay, and I’ll teach you some lessons you clearly never learned.” Her eyes flicked to the room around them, and Jake’s stomach turned. “Lessons in discipline. Obedience. Manners.” His mind raced. Prison would mean years behind bars—he’d never survive that. But staying here, with her, in this... nightmare of a house? Every instinct screamed at him to run, to fight, to do something. And yet, all he could do was stand there, frozen, as her words echoed in his ears. “You’re going to thank me for this one day.” The last thing Jake felt was the door shutting behind him. Chapter Two Jake’s Nightmare Jake’s wrists burned where the zip ties dug into his skin. He sat slumped on the floor of the strange room, his back pressed against the oversized crib. The polished wooden bars felt cold and unyielding, a sharp contrast to the warmth of his rising panic. His legs were stretched out in front of him, useless with his ankles bound the same way as his wrists. “What... what are you doing?” His voice came out shaky, more desperate than he wanted. Madame Evelyn didn’t respond immediately. She was at the wardrobe, methodically pulling out items and laying them on the changing table—a stack of diapers, bottles of powder, and frilly clothes he couldn’t even bring himself to look at directly. Her calm, deliberate movements made his skin crawl. It was like she had all the time in the world, and that scared him more than if she’d been angry or frantic. “Hey! I’m talking to you!” Jake twisted his arms against the restraints, wincing as the ties bit deeper. “This isn’t funny, lady. Let me go!” Evelyn finally turned to face him, holding something in her hands that made his stomach drop—a large, white diaper, absurdly oversized. She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with his struggling. “You agreed to my terms, Jake. This is part of your rehabilitation.” His throat tightened. “No, no, no. This isn’t happening.” He kicked his bound legs, scooting away from her as much as he could, which wasn’t far. His shoulders banged against the crib bars. “You can’t—this is insane! You’re insane!” Evelyn didn’t flinch. “Insane, perhaps,” she said with a faint smile, “but effective.” She crouched in front of him, her dark eyes locking onto his. “You’re not in control here, Jake. That’s the point. The sooner you accept it, the easier this will be.” Jake’s breathing quickened. His heart pounded so loudly in his chest that it drowned out the rest of the room. “You can’t do this. I’ll—I’ll report you. You think you’re untouchable?” He tried to sound threatening, but his voice cracked. It wasn’t convincing, even to him. “You’ll report me?” Evelyn’s voice dripped with amusement. “And tell them what? That you broke into my home and now you’re upset about the consequences? Be my guest.” Jake opened his mouth but found no words. She was right. He had no leverage, no way out. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and he slumped back against the crib. She stood and crossed the room again, grabbing a pair of scissors from a nearby shelf. Jake’s stomach twisted as she approached. “What are you doing with those?” He tensed, instinctively trying to scoot away again, but she reached for his zip-tied wrists. “Relax,” she said sharply. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not physically, anyway.” The plastic ties snapped under the blade, and his arms fell limply to his sides. He rubbed at the raw skin on his wrists, glaring up at her. His anger flared for a moment, but it fizzled as she gestured toward the changing table. “Up,” she commanded. Jake blinked. “What?” “Up. On the table. Now.” Her voice had an edge that left no room for argument. He shook his head, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m—” Evelyn didn’t wait for him to finish. In one swift motion, she grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet with surprising strength. Jake stumbled, caught off guard, and before he could regain his balance, she shoved him toward the table. “Get up, or I’ll make this worse for you,” she said, her tone ice-cold. “You’ll learn soon enough that defiance doesn’t get you anywhere.” Jake hesitated, his muscles locking as he glanced at the open door. Could he make a run for it? The thought vanished almost as quickly as it came. Even if he got past her, his legs were still tied. He wouldn’t make it five steps. Grinding his teeth, he climbed onto the table, the padded surface creaking under his weight. Every fiber of his body screamed at him to fight, to resist, but fear kept him rooted. Evelyn wasted no time. She secured his ankles to the table’s built-in straps, immobilizing him completely. Jake struggled instinctively, but the restraints held firm. “This isn’t happening,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. His fists clenched at his sides. “This isn’t real.” “Oh, it’s very real,” Evelyn said, her voice maddeningly calm. She pulled a fresh diaper from the stack and unfolded it with a practiced ease. Jake turned his head away, his cheeks burning with humiliation. He felt her grip his ankle and heard the sound of the Velcro straps tightening further. “Don’t you dare—” His protest was cut off by the cold air hitting his skin as she unceremoniously tugged his pants and boxers down. The fabric bunched around his restrained ankles, leaving him exposed. Jake’s face burned hotter. “Stop! What the hell is wrong with you?” Evelyn didn’t respond. She simply lifted his legs by the ankles with one hand—like he weighed nothing—and slid the diaper beneath him with the other. Jake squirmed, but it was useless. She had complete control. “You need to stop fighting, Jake,” she said as she sprinkled powder over him. The scent was cloyingly sweet, and he gagged slightly, turning his head further away. “It’ll only make this harder for you.” “This is sick,” he spat. His voice cracked with frustration, and he hated himself for how small he sounded. “You’re sick.” “Perhaps,” she said, pulling the diaper snugly between his legs and taping it into place. The sound of the adhesive tabs fastening made Jake’s stomach churn. “But I’m not the one who thought breaking into a stranger’s house was a good idea.” When she stepped back, Jake refused to look at her. He stared at the ceiling instead, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. The diaper felt bulky and foreign against his skin, a constant, humiliating reminder of his helplessness. Evelyn walked to the side of the table and leaned down, her face close to his. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jake finally snapped, his voice rising. “You’re insane! You think you can just—” Her hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him. Her eyes bore into his, calm but deadly serious. “I can, and I will,” she said softly. “You have no idea what’s in store for you, Jake. But you’ll learn.” When she let go, Jake stayed silent. For the first time, the reality of his situation began to sink in. He wasn’t just trapped in her house. He was trapped in her world. And there was no way out. Posted April 6, 2024 Hi guys! I finally got a Subscribestar. All of my stories are being uploaded there, plus a lot of new content, including in-progress content like Diapered Stepmother, The Regression Act, and Like Mother Like Daughter. Check out my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Melissa’s Re-Potty Training It was a beautiful day. Boys and girls were playing in the park, teenagers were hanging out at the mall, and twenty-one-year-old Melissa was stuck inside her nursery. If there was anything that made the whole baby treatment unbearable, it was how time seemed to slow down as the day grew older. She sighed. By now, her friends would be at the beach or with their boyfriends. But not Melissa. No. Babies have no boyfriends. Babies aren’t allowed out of their playpens when Mommy’s busy. And her stepmother was busy. She was busy with her real daughter. Three-year-old Amelia had already been potty trained and was allowed to do more things than Melissa. And she was twenty, almost twenty-one. An adult. But here she was, diapered and wearing a ridiculous baby girl dress. If her friends could see her now, would they laugh? Would they help her? Would they change her already-soaked diaper? It had been weeks since she was last allowed to wear big-girl panties. Weeks since she tasted the sweetness of freedom. Independence was now out of the question. She doubted she could make it without someone looking after her, changing her, bathing her, feeding her. Was this to be her life now? No longer an adult but a baby. Chapter 1 The Re-Potty Training Idea As Melissa entered the elegantly appointed dining room, her heart raced with apprehension. With each step, her unease grew heavier within her chest. The once familiar surroundings now felt suffocatingly foreign, as if she were a stranger in her own home. Her gaze drifted toward the large portrait hanging above the fireplace, where the stern visage of her stepmother, Helen, stared back, conveying nothing but disapproval. Melissa had always felt that Helen saw her as an inconvenience, a constant reminder that her husband had had a full life before her. And Helen was a jealous woman. She had always belittled Melissa, and now that Melissa's dad was gone, she was alone with no one on her side but her best friend, Dana. Sadly, Dana didn’t live with her, and she needed an ally. "There you are, Mel," said Helen as Melissa entered the room, "I've been waiting for you." Helen's presence filled the room with an air of menace, casting a shadow over Melissa as she took her seat. As they sat together at the polished wooden table, the silence grew heavy between them, broken only by the soft scraping of silverware on porcelain. Tea, as Helen called it, was a constant ritual at home. “How you been?” “All good.” “How’s job hunting treating you?” “There’s not much out there unless I want to work for KFC or something like that.” “I see. Anything else you’d like to share with me?” Melissa shook her head, thinking about one thing she didn’t want anyone to know. But her step-mother reached across the table and gently placed her hand upon Melissa's trembling fingers, her eyes cold and calculating. “I think it's about time we addressed your... little issue." Melissa didn't know what to say. She had been having the same problem for about a month. It started as something small, but it had spiraled out of control, and now she had no idea what to do. She had wet herself so many times so far that it was a miracle no one had found out. "What issue?" asked Melissa with a soft and doubtful demeanor. Maybe if she played dumb she could end this awkward conversation. "Look, if you want to pee yourself, that's okay," said Helen, "But you won't do it in my house. Not when I'm working so hard to potty train your sister." "Step-sister. And it's not your house. It's my dad's." "And according to his will, it's now mine." "And mine!" There was a short moment of silence. "Look," said Helen, grabbing Melissa's hand, "I want us to stop fighting all the time. Your father would've like that. What do you think?" Melissa nodded, hesitant, though. She wasn't fully convinced by Helen's intentions, and rightfully so. In the past, Helen had shown no kindness towards her. Helen leaned closer, her voice softening, "I don't want you to feel ashamed anymore. We can help you fix this." Melissa glanced down at her hands, gulping, "I don't know what to do." "Well, I was thinking. Amelia is going through potty training. She's still too small to understand much, right? So, why don't I potty train you alongside her?" Melissa almost choked on her own saliva. "What do you mean, potty training me? I'm an adult!" "I know. I know you are. But listen to me, it's easy. We just need to teach your body how to hold it until you go potty. That shouldn't be too hard. As you said, you are an adult, and I bet a couple of weeks should be enough. Because if you cannot control it, I'm afraid diapers will be the only way." Melissa's jaw dropped, "You're kidding, right? I'm not... there's no way I'm wearing diapers. I'm an adult, remember? And at twenty-one, I get my dad's money, and I'll be out of here." "True. But you aren't twenty-one yet. And you are here, ruining your clothes and my furniture and setting a terrible example for your sister." Melissa didn't really have an argument; she just knew she didn't wanna be back in diapers at twenty-one. “Step-sister,” she said, “What do you mean potty training me?" “I think that part is self-explanatory, right? We take you potty on a schedule until you stay dry in between potty trips. Then we decrease the frequency until you earn your big girl panties again. Eventually, your body will get used to it, and you'll go by yourself. How does that sound?" "How does that help me now? I mean, I will still," she paused, blushing and ashamed, "Wet myself until we get it under control." "We can do what I'm doing with Amelia," she said, smiling, "Protection under your clothes." "No! I told you, no diapers." "Pull-ups aren't diapers. They are protective underwear." "What's the difference?" "For starters, they don't use tabs. They are easy to hide under your clothes. They are less bulky and noisy. They are completely different and they are very helpful during potty training..” "I don't know," said Melissa, thinking about how awkward it would be to have that "protective underwear" around her crotch. And what if someone found out? She was already not popular with people her age. Her only friend, Dana, was a little odd herself. Maybe she wouldn't mind. But there was no way she would tell her about it. "I just want to help you," said Helen. "Besides, this could be an excellent way for us to connect—you know, have that mother-daughter experience we never had.” Melissa sighed, ”When do we start?" "What about right away?" Helen wasted no time. She grabbed Melissa by the wrist, softly leading her deeper into the house. Through halls and corridors and stairs until they were in a room painted soft pink. It was Amelia’s room, and she wasn’t there. “Amelia is playing outside," Helen replied, "In her sandbox.” “She won’t know?” “She will. But she won’t care. She’s only three.” Helen grabbed some white underwear with the design of some Disney princess on the front. It was small, but then again, Melissa was quite thin. Tall, yes, but thin. “Try this on,” said Helen, placing the pull-up in Melissa’s hand. It was defiantly thicker than regular underwear, and the deign was childish. But Helen was right, they didn’t look that much different from her panties. “A little privacy, please.” Helen left the room, leaving Melissa in the nursery. She carefully dropped her pants to notice her underwear was already damp. Sighing, knowing she actually needed the protection, she took her panties off and cleaned herself with some baby wipes she had close by. Finally, the moment of truth. She slid into the pull-ups, feeling the soft thickness of them against her smooth crotch. She didn’t dare to look at herself in the mirror. She rushed to get her pants on again, and when she was sure her protective underwear wasn’t visible, she left the room. Chapter 2 Potty Time While Helen prepared lunch, Melissa sat at the dining table, staring blankly into space. Each clink of the dishes sent a shiver down her spine, reminding her of what was around her crotch. The pull-up wasn't as uncomfortable as she thought it would be, but it was definitely not something she liked. She had kept it dry so far, though it had not even been an hour yet. Helen entered the room carrying a tray laden with fries, nuggets, and fresh salad. She smiled gently at Melissa, something the young woman wasn’t used to. Next to her was her younger stepsister, Amelia. At three, she looked like a mini version of Helen herself. It was obvious she was destined for popularity, unlike Melissa, and somehow, even if Amelia had always been nice to her, she always resented her. “Mel's potty training, too, Mommy?" asked Amelia as she grabbed a handful of fries. "That's right, hun." Melissa tried to smile back, but it seemed forced. Helen noticed her discomfort and quickly added, "Don't worry, sweetie. We'll take it slow, and I'll be there to help you every step of the way." Feeling slightly more reassured, Melissa nodded. "Thanks." As they all sat down to eat, Melissa couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in Helen's behavior. Helen seemed to genuinely want to help her, but she wondered why. "It's time for the potty," Helen announced once everyone was finished with the meal. Helen gave them no time to argue as she grabbed both their wrist, pulling them towards the living room, where a plastic potty awaited. "Is that really necessary?" asked Melissa in shock. "It's just part of the process. Show me you can use the plastic potty, and you can move onto the toilet. It shouldn't be difficult. Should it?" Before Melissa could continue arguing, she was interrupted by her stepmother. "Who wants to go first?!" asked Helen again with a devilish smile. Amelia raised her hand. Within minutes, the younger of the three had done her business like a professional. "I'm a big girl!" said Amelia, smiling from ear to ear, "I'll be potty trained first!" Those words weighed heavily in Melissa's mind. The little brat was as competitive as her mother. It had been cute a few years ago, but now, she was just annoying. Melissa felt her rage growing stronger, fueled by the constant tease. But she fought back against it. After all, Helen was only trying to help. And Amelia needed the encouragement. "Yes, you are," said Helen, "But I think Melissa will surprise us too, right, Mel?" Melissa nodded. Despite her frustration, she decided to give it a try. If nothing else, she owed it to Helen since she helped her when nobody else did. Taking a deep breath, she lowered herself onto the seat of the tiny plastic potty. In contrast to Amelia's confident demeanor, Melissa felt vulnerable and exposed. However, knowing that she must prove her mettle, she closed her eyes and focused on relaxing her muscles. But nothing. A minute passed. And then another. She pushed harder. Nothing. She pushed again, and a loud fart echoed in the room. Melissa blushed as her stepmother and stepsister giggled. One more minute passed. Another. And nothing. "Alright," said Helen, "I don't think it's going to happen." "No, wait!" said Melissa, pushing harder now, "I can do this." "Honey, you're going to give yourself a stroke if you push that hard. It's okay. You didn't make it this time. Let's just try again later." "I made it to the potty, Mommy. I'm winning!" said Amelia, happy as just a kid could be. But as Melissa pulled her pull-up and pants back up, she couldn't help but feel pathetic and like a failure. She was an adult, and she couldn't even control her body enough to pee by herself. "You'll make it next time. It's okay. It's the first time you've tried. I'm sure you'll make it," said Helen, and for the first time since Melissa met her, she actually felt as if her stepmother cared about her. Perhaps this potty-training idea wasn't that bad after all. With her first time on the potty a failure, Melissa had nothing left to do but wait. She was to call for Helen's help if she felt the need to go, but the thought of having to ask for help to pee was too embarrassing to even consider. She was a big girl. She could make it to the toilet without any help. And so she waited. "Potty time," said Helen an hour later as Melissa worked on her resume. It wasn't looking that good, but she wasn't twenty-one yet, and she needed the money if she wanted to go out that summer with her friends. "One minute," said Melissa, staring at a blank page. Maybe tomorrow, she could try again. It's not as if she were in dire need of a job. If only being an adult weren't that difficult. She stood up and went straight to the living room, where Helen and Amelia were waiting beside the plastic potty. "Your sister's dry," said Helen, "What do we say?" "Congrats," said Melissa, pretending to care enough to form a smile. Helen approached Melissa with a gentle, almost motherly demeanor. "Now, let's check our big girl." "What are you...?!" Helen's finger found their way to the elastic band of Melissa's pull-up. The young adult blushed, trying to get away but failing. "My dear," said Helen, removing her fingers from Melissa's crotch, "You're wet. "What? No. I'm not!" Melissa rushed her hand to her padded crotch, only to notice it was bigger and warmer and obviously full of urine. It couldn't be. She didn't feel it. She was a big girl. She should be able to make it to the potty. Her eyes turned watery, and her knees began shaking. "I'm sorry," she said, fighting back the tears. Helen embraced her with no hesitation—a warm embrace—the sort of touch only a mother could provide during times of distress, and for a second, Melissa felt less of a failure. "It's okay, honey," Helen said, patting her back carefully, "That's what your pull-ups are for. You'll make it next time." It sounded familiar, like some of those truisms parents tell children to encourage them. As much as she despised admitting it, her stepmother's kind words did help. Perhaps Helen was right. She might very well make it next time. It was just one accident. She would make it to the potty next time. There was no way she would lose the race for potty training against her younger stepsister. But for the entire week, Amelia outperformed her. “I’m a big girl!” She would sing as she made it to the potty. Meanwhile, Melissa sat there, and nothing would come out. As if her body was actively working against her. Every day she would have to use three pull-ups or more while her younger step-sister was about to graduate to big girl panties. “Maybe we started you too early,” said Helen as she checked Melissa’s underwear. “It doesn’t seem you’re making any progress. If anything, it looks like you’re regressing.” Melissa blushed at her words. “We’ll keep trying tomorrow. But we might need a different approach if things keep going this way.” Melissa said nothing as she got ready for bed that night. Now alone in her room, her thoughts were flooded with the idea of failing her second potty-training. What would she say to Dana? She had been avoiding her best friend all week in hopes she could get her accidents under control. Melissa sighed, closing her eyes, hoping the next day would be better. However, when she woke up, she noticed something new as she moved in her bed. The padding between her legs was heavier and colder. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi guys, here's one of my latest stories. You can read it now on Amazon Kindle Wife's New Boyfriend Is My New Daddy: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DSR2VKVB or check my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Claire's Regression: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DS2S4FXW You can also read Daisy's Perfect Summer: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DLVJYHH5 Here's a link to The Diary of a Diapered Cuckold: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPFLGMNJ

Hi, I'm a long time fan of the site. This is my first story ever for the ABDL community, hope you like it. The goal when writing was to do a more fantasy style story. it's a bit of a slow burn, I plan to have adult sexual material so please take this as a warning not to read if you're not into that. Also some feedback would be great. if I drone on to long, or if my word flow is confusing, grammar, Formatting and so on. My goal with posting here is to improve my writing so let me know what you think. Part one the Thief The hallway painted her periphery in royal colors. Streaks of golden sculptures, velvet cloth, and mahogany tables wisped by as she ran. Talia did her best to maintain her serious focus, despite the jingling of precious metals in the bag slung over her shoulder threatening to tease a smile from her with every stride.  “Don’t let her get away, lads!” shouted a knight behind her. “The Baron will have a head tonight—make sure it’s that wench!” A thundering crescendo of metal boots erupted behind her. Talia was almost grateful; she could count fear among her motivations to run.  Seeing a corner approaching, Talia grabbed one of the large gold-framed paintings adorning the walls—a gaudy authoritarian portrait of Baron Anor. The heavy oak frame fell with a dull thud, twisting as it hit the ground and offering a moment of privacy. Reaching into her Sack of plunder, Talia produced a gold bar and hurled it at the window at the end of the hall, shattering it. Knowing her pursuers would be on her soon, she took a running start and jumped off the wall to her left. Kicking off, she tucked into a half-corkscrew before slamming her hands and feet into the corridor walls… waiting. The Baron’s punchable face did nothing to slow the knights—they exploded into the hallway in a shower of splinters and poor art composition. “She jumped out the window!” shouted the guard in front. “It could be a diversion!” another barked. “Split up!” called the oldest voice from the rear. The guards scattered—some climbing down the window, others rounding the corner to inspect every room. None of them looked up.  Talia dropped with the grace of a cat, landing on all fours without a sound. She couldn’t contain her smile as she turned and dashed over what was once an affront to the painted arts. With the guards barreling away, she could slow down, recoup some energy… maybe even steal a little more. No! Don’t get greedy, she thought. It wasn’t time for rookie mistakes. She’d already emptied the safe the Baron hid in his study. It’s always in the study, she mused.   Talia half-ran back up the hallway, caring less about subtlety now that the guards were gone.  “I’m Sorry, captain, I couldn’t find my sword,” a younger voice whined just around the corner. “Then next time I’ll put it up your arse, soldier,” an older voice boomed. Talia froze. They were headed her way. Turning back wasn’t an option—getting caught between units would be a death sentence. She crouched low, brandished her knife, and turned into the nearest room. Slipping inside silently. This room was… strange. It was dark. Chew toys and torn stuffed animals could barely be seen laying scattered across the floor. A lush bed sat at the back. Dog bowls lined the left wall, and on the right—what looked, or rather smelled, like a puppy pad. All things considered, it was a fine room. Luxurious. Fit for a noble’s pet. But still… the very human whimpering coming from the back of the room was… strange. Talia’s grip tightened around her dagger as she approached. The girl was thin, with pale skin. Her hair was a sea of wild red, and a pair of cute, droopy canine ears sat atop her head. She was naked, save for a leather collar around her neck. Her bushy red tail was curled around her waist, affording a hint of modesty. A child of the forest. Rare to see one in captivity. Humans didn’t typically have the strength to take one alive—not without a mage. And mages had better ways to make coin than trafficking in slavery. “Greetings, forest child,” Talia said, lowering her tone. “I’m a forest guardian. Can you speak?” She pulled back her green hood, brushing a few strands of straight black hair behind her long, pointed ear. The red-haired girl looked up. Her eyes were hard. A stare like a cliff edge over an endless abyss. Talia’s breath caught. There was something broken in her gaze—lifeless, if not for the quiet, seething anger. “You have it,” the girl whispered through clenched teeth. Her hard look faltered, eyes trembling, madness flickering just beneath the surface. “You took it. Please… give it back” Talia kept her blade low but ready. Every instinct screamed danger. She took a breath, steadying her voice. “What do I have? I’ll give you whatever you need. Let’s just stay calm… and quiet.” “My name…” the girl said, barely audible. “Please give me back my name. You have it in that bag.” She rose slowly. Her tail dropped to the floor, modesty forgotten. She walked like a ghost, arms crossed, gaze unfocused—like she was looking through Talia, not at her. What the fuck… Talia thought, stumbling back as her foot slipped into the water bowl with a splash. Commotion echoed outside the door—they must’ve circled back. No time to run, no space to fight. But Talia didn’t dare look away. Children of the forest were unbeatable in close quarters, blessed with strength that rivaled monsters. She held out her palm, bluffing a spell. The goddess of wisdom and magic might’ve abandoned her, but the beast didn’t know that. Rationality seemed like a thin shield right now. The door slammed open. “She’s here!” someone barked. “Call the guard! she’s in Cherry’s roo—” A blur of red exploded past Talia. The beast girl slammed the guard into the stone wall with a bone-jarring crunch. “My name isn’t Cherry,” she growled, slowly pressing her claws into his neck, shattering his chainmail as she dug deeper. Talia scrambled up as a maid screamed. No time to think. She ran and hurled herself out the shattered window. She landed hard, rolled into a summersault, and sprang into a sprint. Her bag of loot clutched tightly in both hands. “What the fuck!?” she gasped, breathless and alive. Part 2 The Elf Ah, The Great Forest. Of all the vast ecosystems in the world, none are more blessed by Astra, Goddess of Magic. Here, magic isn't just present—it breathes. It hums in every leaf, thrums beneath the bark, and for those attuned to it, crackles at the fingertips like lightning waiting to leap. The forest teems with creatures born of raw enchantment—fairy folk, mermaids, beastkin—but none more powerful than the elves. Stewards of the woods. Guardians. None more lithe. None more magical. And at this particular moment, none more utterly exhausted than Talia. Talia collapsed onto the log, letting her bag of loot thump into the dirt beside her. She took a deep breath, chest rising and falling with a groan. Her mad sprint from Baron Anor’s estate had been four days ago, and she couldn’t take another step. Stretching her legs out with a wince, she leaned back and began massaging her aching thighs. From her ration pouch, she retrieved a stale chunk of lembas—a hard, unforgiving cracker—and her water gourd. After a few reluctant bites, the food started to hit her stomach, and some strength crept back into her limbs. She sagged deeper into the log. Three nights of nonstop running would break any elf. But Talia? Talia was probably the only one physically fit enough to pull it off. Most elves relied on magic to do the heavy lifting—why bother training your body when you can float everywhere? Talia didn’t have that luxury. She took obscene pride in her stamina. Had to make up for the lack of sparkle somehow. Moreover, the run had been necessary. That beast girl—Cherry, they’d called her—not that Talia would ever call her that, considering what happened to the last guy who did—could probably track her scent for miles. Nothing more dangerous than an obsessive beastkin with a vendetta. “Her name…” Talia muttered. Frowning, she pulled the loot sack into her lap and unfastened the flap. Out came about 120 silver coins, one gold brick, and a small black box. Talia lifted the box, inspecting it. It was made of firm, high-quality leather—expensive stuff, probably worth something on its own. The design was plain, save for a simple latch. Nothing about it screamed "name thief." Honestly, what the hell even would? With careful fingers, she popped the latch. Inside lay a black jewel. It shimmered in the light—hues of violet and streaks of orange swirling inside, shifting with every tilt. It wasn’t just beautiful. It pulled at you. Chaotic order. Harmonious discord. Marvelous. But it sure as hell wasn’t a name. Talia stared at the jewel. It shifted in the light like a storm caught between glass, threads of violet and orange chasing each other around in endless spirals. “Well… you’re pretty,” she muttered, reaching out. Magic erupted from the gem where her skin met it. Talia watched in horror as her right hand was swallowed by a black storm—dense magic swirled around her arm in a foggy dace. Veins of yellow streaked through it, bursts of gold flaring before fading into the empty air. She stared, helpless, as her hand began to evaporate. She felt it. Magic crawling into her arm—tendrils slithering beneath the skin, threading into her muscles, her bones. The pain hit her like a wave, sharp and primal. Something inside her, something fundamental, was being torn apart… and remade. Black mist gathered at her feet, rising in soft, pulsing clouds. It crept up her legs, slow, almost gentle, climbing like it was claiming her. And then—silence. It ended as suddenly as it began. Talia collapsed backwards, landing hard in the dirt. Her body shook, pale and slick with sweat. Her head swam. Breaths came in short, shallow gasps. She raised her arm to the sky, trembling. The jewel had fused into her flesh—beautiful and terrifying. The back of her hand and her index finger shimmered like stained glass: black, glossy, fractured with gold. “Talia…” she breathed, voice hoarse. “My name is Talia…” Part 3 The Witch. Solune looked out over the vast sea of green, breathing in the scent of life, feeling its soft caress against her intricately patterned silk robe. Blue, with threads of silver and stars. It was beautiful today, she thought, raising her mug of coffee to her lips. The balcony of her magic tower wasn’t the most decorated—some moss, a few potted herbs, an old stool—but it had the best sunrise view in the entire great forest. Of that, she was certain. “Hey Boss! Hey!” chimed a high, breathy voice to her left. “Nina, how are you, dear?” Solune greeted her, voice even and warm. The little fairy buzzed upward, wings straining as she flew in lopsided loops, dragging a long string behind her. Tied to it—rather poorly—was a bundled stack of red letters, bouncing with every wingbeat. With a final tug, Nina hoisted the mail over the balcony railing and let it land with a plop on the coffee table. She flopped down on top of the pile, panting. “I got... huff... hah... some requests for the White Witch...” The White Witch—Solune’s moniker, coined by some prince a century ago. Something about her hair. Nobles always needed titles for things they didn’t understand. Solune tucked her silky white hair behind one ear as she picked up the first letter. It was a request from a nearby barony—track and subdue a beastkin woman who’d invaded and attacked his manor last month. The reward? A measly fifteen hundred gold. Solune let out a tired sigh and set the letter aside. “These nobles know they’re supposed to send an escort for assignments like this.” She waited a moment. Nina usually had some snappy quip to ease her weariness, but none came. Looking down, Solune noticed Nina shifting her tiny feet nervously. “Hey... hey, Nina, are you alright?” “Sol... umm... are we in trouble?” The question hung for a moment. Solune leaned forward, using her finger to hold her friend steady, wrapping her middle finger around Nina’s back—a ‘hugging’ technique she reserved just for her. Nina leaned into her index finger and hugged Solune’s thumb tightly. “Why do you think we’re in any kind of trouble, sweetheart?” “Because there’s an elf outside.” Part 4 – The Tower Solune held Nina gently between her fingers, pushing back the creeping tide of emotion that threatened to reach her face. There was only one reason an elf would visit a witch. She drew her small friend closer, rubbing her back softly with her middle finger. “It’s alright, Nina,” she said in a soothing tone. “That elf is an old friend of mine.” Nina’s eyes brightened. “Really? That’s good! I didn’t know you had an elf friend, Boss!” Solune swallowed the guilt welling in her throat. Her other hand dug into her thigh as she pressed on with the lie. “That’s right,” she said, her voice almost too sweet. She brought her other hand to her forehead in exaggerated dismay. “But it’s so sad—I didn’t prepare any wild wine for my guest… if only a badass delivery girl were around to help.” Nina practically bounced in her grasp. “Oh, me! I’m a bad butt! I’ll do it! And then it won’t be sad!” The honesty in her friend’s eyes made Solune’s gut twist with disgust, but she kept smiling. “Really? Nina, that’s such a big help!” Nina’s wings buzzed with energy. “I’ll be back in a little bit!” Solune felt her eyes start to water, but she blinked it away. Nina was safe—for now. She stretched her arm to the side and pushed her magic outward, searching until it found her staff. Then, like a taut cord snapping, it flew into her hand. She exhaled slowly, planting the staff beside her, and pushed her will down through the stone beneath her. The tower answered. There was no sudden flash or swirl of magic—only motion. The floor beneath her shifted gently, lowering like an ancient lift as the walls rearranged around her. Her bedroom receded. The regal white bed rose into the ceiling, the dresser melted into the walls. In its place, a coffee table emerged, followed by a wide hearth and a plush, oversized sofa. By the time the floor settled, the bricks before her had shimmered and reshaped into a tall, ornate door. Witch and tower—one in the same. Solune readied her staff. Whoever this elf was—whatever transgression they thought she was responsible for—Nina was safe. That was all that mattered. Ten minutes passed. No brimstone. No fire. No death. What was the elf waiting for? Nina couldn’t have made a mistake—fairies were sensitive to the scent of elves. Worry began to creep in. If this standstill went on too long, Nina might return before it was safe. Taking a steady breath, Solune pushed her magic through her staff and toward the door. The heavy stone groaned as the twin halves slowly opened, scraping over grass and kicking up dust. For a tense moment, Solune watched the haze swirl and settle. And with it came her confusion. There was indeed an elf outside her tower. She was just unconscious.

I'm not new to the whole abdl scene, been around a while but new to this site. I'm a trans woman and a mommy, strictly lesbian, lover of all things cute and fluffy! And of course soggy and squishy too! Hope to meet plenty of new people here 💘

Looking for a mommy in SoCal 😊 trying to get myself out there 😊