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1 Despite being six years old, Alice still wets herself. My wife and I are working hard to make her stop and, to avoid finding her without underwear and pants to wear, we have imposed that she wear a diaper and tell us when she has an accident. Alice did not protest; in fact, she was happy with our idea to the point that she pulled down both her pants and underwear because she couldn't wait for us to put one on her. (Luckily, we were in the bathroom and my wife had brought a pack of pull-ups with her.) While I was setting up the new changing table in the bathroom, Alice approached me and tugged on my shirt to get my attention. She was looking down, and on her little face, there was only shame and humiliation. I knew she had had an accident, but I preferred that she tell me explicitly. "What's that sad little face?" I asked, lifting her chin. "I… I wet myself," she admitted regretfully. "My underwear told me, and I didn't listen." "I'm sorry, little monkey," I said, giving her a hug. "I'll finish setting up the changing table and then give you a good cleanup. In the meantime, would you do me the favor of trying to go in the potty?" Alice looked at me puzzled and then did as she was told. A few moments later, I laid her down on the newly set-up changing table. I pretended to have trouble tearing the tabs on the left side of the pink pull-up to cheer her up. Of course, she giggled amusedly, and I let her tear the other side. She exclaimed happily, "Daddy, I'm as strong as Superman!" I grabbed a wet wipe, gently wiped her private parts, and removed the wet diaper from under her bottom. After taking a clean pull-up, I slipped it between her legs up to her knees and rubbed the tips of my fingers with moisturizing cream to prevent irritation. "Daddy, what are you doing?" she suddenly asked. "I'm putting cream on you. Both in the front and in the back." "Why?" "So the bad germs won't hurt you." "Shouldn't you put it on me everywhere?" she then asked. "Germs are small and are everywhere!" I held back a little laugh. I said, pretending to be an intellectual, "Our whole body has a shield to defend itself from them; but in the areas where we pee and poop, this shield needs a hand." You have the right to criticize my answer; I'm not exactly an expert in science and biology. "But you don't put it on Tyler!" she suddenly retorted angrily. "Is it because he has a penis?" I burst out laughing heartily. "No, little monkey. We put it on him too. Even though he pees differently than you, he still needs the cream." "Then, why don't I have one?" "What?" "A penis." To date, this change has been the funniest ever. From a normal curiosity to wanting to be a boy like her older brother. I should have scolded her for saying that word, but it would have been useless. After all, she was a curious little girl and would have taken little time to discover their real function. 2 I was helping Tyler with his literature homework when he asked me this question: "Dad, why do you let me wear diapers again?" I looked up from the book, surprised and confused. Unintentionally, I made a face of disgust, forgetting that the return to diapers was recent and my wife and I needed to get used to it again. I asked him to repeat, I admit that part of me wanted to tell him to focus on his homework. He put down his pen. "I'm twelve years old and I shouldn't be wetting and soiling myself. So why am I wearing a diaper?" And here comes the moment of explanation, the thing I hate most in my entire parenting life. "Ty, I know it might seem like a big contradiction to you, but you've seen for yourself that the diaper is… it's doing you good. You're no longer nervous and angry; you don't scream in front of the TV anymore; plus, you've started reading books! Something you hadn't done since third grade!" He gave me a puzzled look, then nodded. "You're right, Dad. But I feel… like a retard." I panicked. It was the first time his words had pierced my heart. "You are perfect, Tyler," I reassured him as best I could. "We put it on you to make you stress less. You're not retarded, you're just… a kid who's concerned about his mental health. Usually, it's an adult thing, but it's something that affects kids like you too." A big smile spread across his face. "I have a book in my room about mental health. Could you read it to me tonight before bed?" "Of course," I said, relieved and happy. "Now finish your homework. By the way, did you pee?" He shook his head. "No. Can I go?" I furrowed my brow. What a stupid question was that? "If you need to go, go!" I scolded him. "Holding in your pee is not good for your body!" Shortly after, I took him to the bathroom to change him. I put him on the changing table and noticed his red cheeks. "What's wrong?" He let himself go on the table and started staring at the ceiling. "It's… it's the first time you're changing my diaper," he stammered, whimpering. "D-Do you think it's weird…" Immediately, I picked him up and cuddled him like a baby. My little Tyler… All this must be hard for him: school, having to grow up and… diapers. I felt like a failure, a nothing. Seeing him cry was a rare thing. Whispering sweet words to him, I laid him down on the changing table and started rolling up my sleeves. The whole time, Tyler sobbed, repeating one word: "Sorry." After fastening the new diaper around his waist, I put him down and knelt to his level. Calm and peaceful eyes fixed on his red and shiny ones. I wanted to make sure he was okay. "Do you feel better now?" He nodded. "I don't think you're weird. I don't think that and I never will. And that's also why your mother and I allowed you to wear them: to make you feel good about yourself. When you don't feel good, you have to tell us. Understood?" He nodded again. "Dad?" "Yes, Ty?" "Can you hold me? I want to be with you for a while." I granted his wish without thinking and whispered in his ear: "As long as you want, buddy." "Thanks, Dad. You're my hero." --- I hope you enjoy these short stories. If you have any ideas or suggestions, feel free to write them below! -Milo

Long time lurker. This is the first story I have written. Writing isn’t my strength, and It takes me forever to write, re-read, and rewrite. I have already written 20 chapters. I hope everyone finds this story different but interesting. This is a slow burn, but it does get into the diapers and regression. It will take a few chapters to really get into it. I can see this going for at least another 20 chapters on top of the twenty chapters already written. Chapter 1: The New Intern Avery let out a deep sigh of relief as he read the email he had just received from the biomedical technology department. He was finally being recognized for his hard work and dedication. His complex calculations and programming to demonstrate the interactions between a relatively new drug and a person's DNA had proven correct and valuable, leading to him being hired over a month ago - despite the doubt and ridicule from his colleagues. He leaned back in his chair, feeling overwhelmed with emotions. On the one hand, he was elated that his efforts were beginning to be acknowledged, but on the other hand, he felt uncertain if this would lead to further respect or more challenges from those who never believed in him. A sense of pride mixed with apprehension began to stir within him, thoughts of the potential applications of this research tumbling through his mind. Ever since Avery Sage was a little boy, he has experienced problems with keeping his pants dry. Maybe it had something to do with the car accident that claimed the lives of his parents. Perhaps the foster homes he cycled through caused him stress, or maybe he would have always had this problem. All he knew for sure was that he needed to wear protection when out in public because when he got stressed, his bladder gave way. As a result, whenever he left the security of his home, he wore pull-ups, which made him feel like a little kid and dampened his confidence. His confidence wasn't helped because he was only five foot and one inch tall for a young man. These anxieties certainly didn’t help his mental health. He suffered from depression, anxiety, and insomnia. He regularly saw a psychiatrist and was on medication, but life could still be a struggle. He thought back to his first week of work. Avery graduated with a Bachelor of Science in Mathematics and Biochemistry at the age of 18. A year later, he was offered an internship while working on his master's in Biochemistry and Genetics. Avery stepped through the doors of DNA Pharmacia, feeling equal parts nervousness and excitement. He had been preparing for this moment his whole life – the chance to finally earn some respect and prove all those who had doubted him wrong. Flashbacks filled his mind of all the running between foster care families he had endured; it had made his self-confidence falter, but nonetheless provided the motivation for him to finish high school years early and break free from the wings of his current foster family. Now was the time to show what he was made of. As Avery sat in the HR office, he wore his dress clothes for his first day, which was saying much– a little too large for his slim, small frame – but still managing to make him feel small and helpless against the world around him. People seemed to look through him everywhere he went as if he were invisible, yet he couldn't shake off the nagging sensation that all eyes were upon him. His shoulders sagged under the weight of defeat that shrouded his self-confidence. His wavery, untamed hair was combed back the best it could be. “Ok, Avery.” Julian, the HR representative, said. “You're done. You're officially an employee of DNA Pharmacia.” “I won’t let you down. I promise.” Avery smiled as he stood up and reached across the desk to shake Julian’s hand. Julian's expression was warm and encouraging as he shook Avery's hand. Julian was a tall, distinguished man in his late thirties, wearing a navy blue suit and a striped tie. His brown eyes twinkle with kindness, and he has a slight, friendly smirk while speaking to Avery. His handshake was firm but slightly frail, making Avery feel nervous that he had no idea if he could uphold such a promise. Doesn't everyone think that on their first day at work? Avery thought to himself. Julian just smiled back at him from his kind face, like he could read Avery's mind. “Great, I am hoping for good things from you. Shall I show you to your new desk and department?” Julian returned the smile. “Yes, please,” Avery followed Julian out of the room. They took two flights up in the elevator to a department called “Chemical DNA Sequencing Department.” and walked side-by-side down the long corridors of the main building. They passed glass panels on every wall and Avery marveled at how modern this building was. He watched sensors scanning vials of chemicals and equipment, feeding data into computers across the room. It was clear no money had been spared in making DNA a cutting-edge company. Every window they passed made him want to stop and ask what was happening; it all looked so exciting, and he couldn’t wait to start. All this made him forget that he secretly wore a pull-up underneath his clothes as protection was needed. It was down one of these corridors that Avery met an older man. The man had a strong jawline and sharp features, aged but wise. His eyes were a deep blue, crinkling at the corners when he smiled. His gray hair was neatly trimmed, and his beard was flecked with silver. He wore a crisp white shirt with black trousers and polished black shoes. He towered over Avery with an air of authority, yet his demeanor was warm and friendly. Avery recognized him from some of the interviews he had gone through to land this job. “Welcome! You must be our marvelous new intern. I am Bryan Wells, and you'll report directly to me! At your desk we have a laptop and a corporate iPhone with the works waiting there for you. From your resume and job interviews, my colleagues have noticed your peculiar knack for math and biochemistry, so we have an exciting task ahead for you! On your desk is a folder that outlines our challenge: debug a computational logic program that looks at DNA to determine designer drugs for fighting cancer. It's a riddle waiting to be solved - think you can do it? Report back any bugs as soon as possible, and we'd be grateful!” Bryan said cheerfully as he led Avery to his desk. “Yes, sir,” Avery replied. He would have agreed to do whatever Bryan needed. He was eager to impress. Bryan continued to talk to Avery. It was a one-sided conversation. Avery was too in awe of everything he was seeing to really contribute much. For him, this place was like a dream—top-level research with some of the smartest people in the world where his work could actually help people. Avery looked around the room. A long row of cubicles ran down one wall with a dozen or so scientists already hard at work on their projects. Avery's desk was tucked into the corner by an emergency exit. The light blue walls were sparse, containing only a few motivational posters and pictures of animals from Earth. Bryan led him to his chair and showed him how he could adjust it to fit him since the chair was probably to tall for him. Avery blushed a little but said nothing about it. Bryan reviewed with him how to log in to the server and the IT policies on using company-issued equipment. Bryan also went over where the relevant programs were located; he would review the folder with all the notes on the development of this program. “If you need anything, come to find me over there,” Bryan pointed to his private office. “The other scientists and engineers should be coming around to introduce themselves to you today.” “Ok, sounds good… And thank you for this opportunity,” Avery said as Bryan returned to his office. On that first day, he met a few scientists and a few engineers. They all seemed friendly enough, even though Avery didn’t have much to say. He wanted to just focus on the task at hand. He felt he had something to prove. Avery had been dealt a tough hand; growing up in the foster care system meant that he was constantly met with obstacles and negative comments. He was told time and again what he couldn’t do, but instead of accepting those limitations as his fate, he used them as motivation. Everyone’s doubts about him only strengthened his desire to prove them all wrong. The rest of the day was slow. Avery needed help concentrating on the program he had been asked to look at. Quite frankly, it was dull, and after seeing all the other scientists and engineers doing much more exciting things, Avery was keen to do something that felt more meaningful. This need to do something drew him to the thick handbook about all the research involved with this program and more. He was fascinated with it. Avery brought the program to his apartment that night. He abstained from indulging in his usual nightly video game escapades. Instead, he spent hours poring over the computational intricacies of DNA's involvement in cancerous growths, absorbed in deciphering the energy states of cancer cells. The realization that this program was an amalgamation of these complex calculations completely captivated him, particularly as he examined how the drug had to be manipulated to match the energy state of the cancer cells so that it would interact effectively with them. It was nothing less than astounding. As he delved deeper into the notes, he discovered a vexing inconsistency in one of the mathematical formulas that disrupted the programming and prevented it from reaching a conclusion on what drug was needed for treatment. Avery closed the notebook for the night, satisfied he knew what he could start looking at and he was glad to be out of the pull-up for the day. As he lay in bed, his mind kept running through what he had read. His insomnia medication meant he wasn’t awake for long, but even in sleep, it felt like his brain was searching through everything he had learned the previous day. The morning came too quickly as his alarm went off. “Ugh, I hate mornings,” Avery muttered as he hit the snooze button repeatedly. The alarm kept ringing, and every time it did, Avery reached out a hand and hit the snooze button again. It was an almost instinctive reaction to the annoying noise. His brain wasn’t clicking into gear. All he knew was that he wanted more sleep. At one point, as the alarm went, Avery pawed at the snooze button yet again but only ended up knocking his phone off the bedside table. “Oh shit,” He said as he looked up at the clock. It was 7:30 a.m. He was supposed to be at work at 8:00 a.m. His alarm had been going on and off since 6:00 a.m. this morning. Avery quickly removed his boxers and slipped on new pull-ups, light gray tan dockers, and a maroon golf shirt. He quickly wet down his hair and combed it back, knowing it would still look like a mess when his hair dried. Avery quickly left to grab the bus to work at 7:30 a.m. and hopefully be at work at 8:00 am. It was a rush, and Avery didn’t feel particularly ready, but as he walked out of the front door into the early morning air. He didn’t know how anyone could be a “morning person” when he always felt… tired. That morning, when Avery got to work, the first thing he did was get a large cup of coffee. Afterward, he sat down at his desk and began to take a look at the code. The code wasn’t easy to follow. It didn’t follow too much of a logical path in his mind. Two hours later, John Taylor, the most Sr, Engineer on the project and project lead, stopped by his desk. John was a 45-year-old engineer with a commanding presence and an ego to match. He stood at an imposing 6'2" and had a burly build that spoke of years of physical labor. Despite his advancing age, his muscles were still firm, and his torso remained taut, reflecting an unwavering commitment to physical fitness. Avery thought John's walk exuded confidence, each step resonating with a deliberate thud. His posture was impeccable, with his chest puffed out and his chin held high. He had a square jaw and piercing blue eyes that seemed to bore through any obstacle in their way. This made Avery very anxious to be around him. He was very much the opposite of Avery, who was dressed in a pair of tan dockers and a collared maroon shirt That he had quickly thrown on minutes before leaving the house. If someone were to judge Avery. They would say he dressed not to cause a stir and just wanted to blend in. The differences between the timid Avery and John, who exuded machismo and confidence, couldn’t have been starker. John wore an expensive suit that hugged his broad shoulders and accentuated his chiseled physique, a testament to his attention to detail and his love of the finer things in life. “Impressive work on one of my projects, huh?” John scowled as he snatched the notebook off his desk. “I wouldn't waste your time with all the irrelevant data scribbled in here. It'll do nothing but distract you.” He flicked it to the other side of his desk like an afterthought. Avery noticed John's hazel eyes were framed by creases that spoke to years of meticulous research studies and calculations. “I tried to get a grip on it, but honestly, I stumbled over the complex calculations necessary for developing designer drugs. Despite that, I was still captivated by the work yesterday." Avery sighed, not convinced of his own abilities to do this kind of research but determine to make a difference still. “Well, just weed out the bugs and get the program working. My team and I will take care of the rest.” Johns said with a condescending smile. “If you do that, you will do good here, kid!” “It’s just….” Avery started. He wanted to prove his knowledge by suggesting a change to the handbook. “Seriously, don’t worry about it.” John cut Avery off with ease. Avery felt a little put out by this overconfident man. He had been hired to be equal to all the other scientists, and yet John was acting like he was somebody hired to do data entry. He knew he could make the program run better and make the handbook better; he just needed John to listen to him. “I’m just thinking that if we…” Avery tried again. “If you have any suggestions, just write them down and slip them under my door,” John said as he started walking away without looking over his shoulder. The rest of the day went on without a hitch. A few people came by and tried to introduce themselves to him, but he kept the small talk to a minimum and just wanted to look over the program. Avery took a lot of notes that day. At the end of the day, he decided to retake the notebook home and leave the laptop at the office. He left the office at 4:30 p.m. to catch the bus at 5 p.m. If he missed the bus past 6 p.m., there wouldn't be another bus till morning. He was hungrier than normal because he skipped lunch all day to work on debugging the program. He stopped by a McDonald's and ordered a Big Mac. As he stood in line, he couldn't help but notice the Happy Meals on the counter, offering small Lego kits to children. It was a cruel marketing strategy to exploit parents and make them buy more Lego sets for their already spoiled kids. He knew this well, but it only reminded him of his own childhood, one filled with deprivation and lack of affection. He watched as the children played with their toys, ignoring the food in front of them - something he would have cherished as a child. But no, he was never allowed such frivolous things growing up; his foster parents made sure to remind him how unworthy he was of such luxuries. The memory brought back painful emotions that festered deep within him.

The Importance Of Being Specific By: The Unknown Author I “My Ass Has Grown And My Dreams Have Shrunk” It’s funny that with all the advancements in society and technology that people still fit into weird molds, that they still end up embodying these weirdly specific archetypes that you think is just something you attached to them as a high school student, but then as an adult you see someone else that checks certain imaginary boxes in your head and you assign that person a nickname or descriptor based on that fact. Larry Conrad was the kid in my school who’s mom still cut his hair, we’d laugh at him getting dropped off in the morning, his mother fussing over some unimportant detail about his appearance and blowing him kisses as he stepped out of the car and hurried into the school to get away from the eyes and snickers of his peers. Michelle D’Angelo was the girl that took an inordinately long time to understand the basics of hygiene so she didn’t smell like roofing tar all day when she was on her period. Cameron Lance was saddled with the unfortunate rhyme of ‘Cameron Lance shits his pants’ during a field trip to the zoo in second grade and nearly eradicated the memory until a repeat performance in the lunch room freshman year brought it back to life. Weird is weird, and we as a society, whether we admit it or not, base our assessments on people by what our senses tell us about them when we first encounter them. Am I proud that I laughed at these people? No. Do I think I’m better than them as a person? I did back then, but now, no. Larry Conrad became an internet billionaire, wrote a book and made more money, bought an island and fucked off from society. Michelle D’Angelo just wrapped up filming on the third season of the show she created and directs, a show that everyone is watching and that everyone loves. Cameron Lance, ironically, owns and operates the largest chain of dry cleaning stores in the continental United States and leaned into his shameful past by calling them “Lance Cleans Pants”. I’m not without my own successes, I mean, in comparison I’m average, but I was prom queen and married my prom king a little after graduation. We have three kids, Beckah is our oldest and is nearly done with high school herself and has decided arguing with me is her extracurricular activity of choice when she’s not sneaking out to go party with friends and do God knows what else. Jeramiah is thirteen and has mastered not only computers and pretty much anything digital you put in front of him, but also hiding the articles of clothing he masturbates into in all kinds of fun places around the house. Molly is our youngest at four and is, let’s say, ‘taking her time’ with the whole big girl thing, her room is still decorated the way it’s been since she was born and we’ve gone from training pants to diapers more times than I can count. Jason, my husband, works at the factory he got a job at when he graduated and spends most nights glued to his phone, but when he finally unplugs for the night, then he complains about the younger generation that’s starting pay is almost as high as his and that more and more robots are being installed at the plant and he’s worried they’ll replace him. Once a week I try and get him hard and more often than not he ends up pushing rope inside me for an embarrassingly short amount of time before he finishes and passes out, leaving me to wonder just how I managed to lose control of my life so completely that I’ve ended up as the married mother of three that fingers herself to grocery store romance novels in the tub, the woman that imagines being married to Larry Conrad or Cameron Lance and cries at how pathetic and unsatisfying her life has become. My typical day revolves around getting everyone where they need to go once Jason leaves for work, Beckah rides shotgun with her headphones in, Jeremiah is always holding some kind of device and toiling away on cracking some code or what have you, and Molly is in her car seat looking out the window at the world while I absently wonder if I’ll have time to dig the stretch pant wedgie from my ass before anyone in the general public notices. Because of her delayed potty training, we haven’t been able to get Molly into daycare, something that frustrates me more when the car begins to fill with the odor of a messy diaper and my errands for the day haven’t even begun. The one week out of the year that everything becomes bearable is when the carnival comes to town. I love it because Jason becomes his old romantic self again, winning me a stuffed animal at a cheesy game, holding my hand as we walk beneath the strings of lights while the kids fuck off to the corners of wherever to entertain themselves. Jason loves it because it reminds him of when we were dating, and two of our three kids were conceived on a night the week of the carnival. Beckah loves it because she can sidle up to a carny running one of the rides and score free sips from his flask and maybe some pot. Jeremiah loves it because there’s games and rides, and not because he can see up girl’s skirts on the Ferris Wheel. Molly loves it because she’s a baby, and bright colors and lots of sound are exciting, I could shine a flashlight at her and jingle some keys in her face and she’d probably love it equally if I’m being honest. It was the last night of the carnival and we’d gone every previous night with the desired results of peace and happiness among every member of the family, but tonight was the best night because it was mostly empty. Beckah and Jeremiah had gone off on their own, and Jason had stepped up to take Molly back to the car for a clean diaper and I was sitting on a bench waiting for his return, wondering if I could seduce him into fucking me somewhere moderately secluded after we found Beckah and pawned Molly off onto her for a little while. I got up and wandered a little, walking past the rows of arcade games, claw machines, and sawdust covered pools of vomit when I saw a fortune telling machine with a creepy animatronic Gypsy head inside hovering over a crystal ball. “Wishes granted for $1.50” I read off the gold and ruby colored sign on top of the machine. I smirked and checked my purse, finding exactly six quarters in the small change pocket of my wallet and fit them into the slits on the metal protrusion in the front of the machine before pushing it in and watching as the machine sprung to life. “Madame Zelna is here to grant your wish!” the robot Gypsy declared in a warbly sounding voice that was probably as culturally insensitive as it was technologically impressive for the time period it was made in. The lights inside the glass case Madame Zelna inhabited dimmed and the crystal ball filled with white mist as the robot inside jerked and noisily looked down into it. “Close your eyes and speak your wish and Madame Zelna will make it come true!” she said, sounding like an old drive thru speaker. I didn’t close my eyes at first, but I did look around to make sure no one was nearby to film the middle aged woman about to make a wish at a crappy carnival game or someone lurking in the shadows to rape murder me and when I was satisfied that I was well and truly alone, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, “I wish I could trade places with my daughter.” I said longingly. “Your wish will be granted at the stroke of midnight!” Madame Zelna proclaimed before launching into a wheezy sounding cackle that ended abruptly when the machine went dark. I chuckled and opened my eyes, patting the glass with my hand, “Thanks a bunch, Madame Z.” I said to the lifeless robot head before I headed back to the bench to wait for Jason. We as humans are very inattentive, so focused on our own things that we fail to see what’s all around us. In my defense, my eyes were closed, so the shooting star that passed over me as I spoke my wish went unnoticed, and I can be forgiven for assuming the fairy gorging himself on discarded cotton candy was a moth, his chuckle going unheard thanks to the distance between us and the difference in our size, the fact that it was exactly seven o’clock on the seventh day of the seventh month was a minor detail that passed by without notice, the point is that a few things happened when I made my wish, and none of them were noticed by me. ********** “God dammit, Hannah!” the distant raised voice of Jason stirred me from my slumber. “What happened?” I asked dreamily as I rolled over and banged my elbow into something I wasn’t expecting to be where my elbow was heading. I opened my eyes and gasped at the tall bars stretching upward around me and the mobile of stuffed stars and rainbows and clouds dangling high above me. Somewhere I heard myself crying, though it was a form of crying I never did, the anguished wailing of someone very young being very scared that someone was yelling at them and they didn’t know why. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” I repeated as I sat up and felt my stomach drop as I looked through the bars at Molly’s room beyond. I pushed the blankets off of myself and shuddered involuntarily at the sight of pink footed pajamas with a distinct bulge in the crotch on my little body, looking at my hands and wiggling my feet to verify that the absolute worst thing in the world had happened. “Jason!” I yelled, more than slightly panicked. “What the hell is happening?” Beckah asked in the hallway. “I don’t know, your mom pissed the bed and now she’s screaming and crying and Molly is yelling my name.” Jason grumbled before he pushed the door of the nursery open and came to the side of the crib. His pajamas were drenched, the smell of pee radiating off of him, “Jason, I made a wish last night to switch places with Beckah but it got messed up and I switched with Molly instead!” I explained, standing up in the crib and holding the bars to steady myself on the mattress. He blinked at me, opened his mouth and then closed it and then looked at me in disbelief, “What?” he asked. I groaned, “I fucked up, honey, but I need you to help me fix it.” I said. He grumbled something about coffee as he sighed and rubbed his temples before turning around and leaving the room. “Hey!” I shouted, rattling the bars angrily. “What’s wrong with Molly?” Beckah asked Jason as he left the room. “Ask her yourself.” Jason grumbled. Beckah poked her head in the doorway a moment later and came over to the crib, “What’s wrong, Molly?” she cooed, letting down the side of the crib and picking me up to set me on her hip. Internally I was mortified at the girl I’d intended to switch with holding me like the baby I now was, “Beckah, it’s me, your mom.” I said, my cheeks burning with shame. Beckah practically dropped me in surprise but managed to regain control of me, holding me away from her so she could look into my eyes, “Mom?” she asked. I repeated my explanation to her and had to endure her laughter as she set me back down on the mattress to keep from actually dropping me as she held her stomach and wiped a tear from her eye, “Why did you want to be a baby?” she asked. “I didn’t!” I argued, “I wanted to switch with you!” I told her. She stopped laughing, “You wanted to be me?” she asked. I nodded softly. “Wait, so I’d be stuck in your body?” she sneered. “Don’t say it like it’s so terrible.” I said, “You’d be an adult!” I offered. She shook her head, “Yeah, but what’s the point when you’re an adult that’s like given up on being hot?” she asked. That hurt. “Hey!” I snapped, “I’m still your mom, Beckah!” I added. She smirked and patted my head condescendingly, “And I’ll bet widdle Mommy needs her diapie changed, doesn’t she?” she cooed. I batted her hand away, “It’s not my fault Molly isn’t potty trained!” I snapped. She put her hands on her hips, “Isn’t it?” she asked. “I mean, you never really tried with her, you just kind of gave up because she didn’t seem interested.” she pointed out. I groaned, “Look, you’re not a mom, you wouldn’t understand.” I sighed. She lifted the side of the crib back up and locked it in place, “You’re obviously cranky because you need more sleep.” she said, a wicked smile on her face, “We’ll see if some more time in your crib doesn’t improve your mood.” she added, heading to the door. “Wait!” I called out, but she was already shutting the door behind her, leaving me alone with an unpleasant clamminess in my diaper. ********* “So, you were so unhappy with your life that you wanted to trade places with your teenage daughter?” Jason asked me later once he’d had his coffee and dealt with our wet bed and calmed Molly me down with a bath and a pacifier and then changed my diaper and dressed me for the day. He’d foregone a diaper for me at my insistence, but Molly’s lack of underwear meant that one of the training pants she’d given up wearing was under the denim shortalls he’d put on me. Beckah was on the couch with Molly me, stroking the girl’s hair as she lay with her head on Beckah’s lap sucking softly on her pacifier, the sight of me being lovingly soothed by my teenage daughter was weird, but the pacifier and the towel she’d laid out beneath Molly me to avoid ruining the couch were making my head spin. “How was I supposed to know the wish would come true!?” I exclaimed. He shook his head, “The point is that you wanted to be someone else, Hannah.” he said calmly, “I want to know why.” he added. I chewed my lip softly, “I don’t know,” I said, “I miss being young and hot and partying.” I said, avoiding talking about sex with my four year old daughter’s voice and my teenage daughter present. He sighed, “Well, you’ve fucked everything up six ways from Sunday, Hannah.” he said, “First, Molly is stuck in your body and that means that I need to go get adult diapers for her so we’re not living in a piss and shit stained house until we can fix this.” he said, “Then, I need to come up with some excuse for work that allows me to be a stay at home dad to my baby brained wife and my adult brained baby daughter.” he continued. “I can stay home and watch them, Daddy.” Beckah offered. I shook my head, “No, you need to go to school, young lady.” I said, not realizing how ridiculous my toddler voice sounded trying to be authoritative. “Actually, I have the credits I need to graduate already, and I’m sure a call from Daddy about a family emergency would allow me to miss the rest of the year without any issue.” Beckah explained. “Then you can keep going to work and I can make sure Jeremiah gets to school and that the babies are taken care of.” she explained to Jason, smiling at me when she said ‘babies’. “I’m not a baby!” I reminded her. Jason sighed, “Alright, I’ll call the school and tell them your mother had some kind of stroke or mental breakdown or something so that if someone comes by to check they’re not surprised to find her in diapers carrying on like a four year old.” he explained. I fumed at being left out of the discussion, “Don’t I get a say in any of this?!” I yelled. Jason shot me a glare that made my blood run cold and my training panties run warm, “No.” he said simply, “You didn’t include me or Beckah in your little wish making decision, so we’re not including you in this.” he explained. “You’re Molly now, and until we can figure out how to fix this you’ll be treated exactly as she was.” he added. I looked at him in stunned silence and then at Beckah who merely smiled at me in the most sincere looking insincere smile I’d ever seen. “I think it would be best for Jeremiah if he didn’t know about the wish and the switch.” Jason said, “I’ll make up a story to explain why his mother is behaving like a baby, but you need to act like Molly around him, is that clear?” he asked. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing, you want me to pretend to be a baby?” I asked incredulously. He nodded, “I do.” he said simply, downing the rest of his coffee and setting the cup on the table, “You’ve turned enough lives upside down, Hannah, spare Jeremiah the weirdness that our life has become and pray that Molly isn’t permanently scarred because of this.” he added. The small dribble of pee that had escaped me when glared at me was cooling rapidly and I didn’t look forward to Beckah discovering my accident, but Jason was standing and going to collect his keys and wallet from the bowl by the door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can with the diapers, do your best, Becks.” he said before heading out the door. Like a cat that ate a canary, Beckah turned and smiled at me, “I suppose I should make breakfast for my hungry girl’s, huh?” she asked in that bubbly babytalk voice we all used with Molly. I watched as she sat Molly me up and took her by the hand and led her to the table where I was already seated in Molly’s highchair, my blush at having to endure the conversation that had just concluded while seated in a highchair and now with damp training panties had almost subsided until I watched Molly me be sat in a chair by Beckah and kissed on the top of her head as she sucked her pacifier and my cheeks were burning hot once more. “I know you probably think I’m going to abuse you or something.” Beckah said as she got out the eggs from the fridge. I shook my head, “No, why would you think that?” I asked. She turned and looked at me, “Because you think I’m all about partying and fucking guys or something.” she said, “That’s why you wanted to be me, right?” she asked. “I don’t-” I started to say. “Doesn’t matter!” she cheerfully interrupted, “What matters is that I’m going to show you how wrong about me you were.” she said as she got out the orange juice and filled two sippy cups up and screwed on the tops before bringing them to the table and setting them in front of myself and Molly me. “Can’t I have a normal glass?” I protested. “If you can’t have it when Jeremiah is here then you can’t have it when he isn’t.” she said as she started cracking eggs to make breakfast. “I’m going to show you that Molly is ready to be a big girl and potty train her, or you, you know what I mean, and you’re going to see that everything runs smoothly with your hot, smart, capable daughter at the wheel.” she explained. I sighed and watched Molly me pick up her sippy cup with both hands and lean back in her chair to guzzle her juice and picked up my own sippy cup and started sucking juice down, secretly relieved that Beckah wasn’t planning to humiliate me while I was stuck in Molly’s body, I just had to hope that I didn’t have to do anything to humiliating to pass off that I was Molly to Jeremiah. To Be Continued…

Well, here goes nothing. I have posted on ABDL sites before but I don't think my heart was really in those stories. That has changed now, this story is one that I have put plenty of work into and I am finally ready to test it out on a real audience. I have a few chapters ready in the coming weeks but, based on how things go I hope to move to a regular schedule as I have lots of plans! Note regarding grammar, well I am terrible at it. I don't have an editor and rely mainly on re-reads and free web grammar checks so, don't judge me too bad, ha! Hope you Enjoy! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ The sound of a flip-flop smacking the bottom of a foot and the ground in an annoying, repetitive beat filled the car as they approached their destination. “Tara, stop that!” her mother spoke sharply. Tara leaned up from the clenched position she was in at the back of the van and pressed her foot down hard to stop the tapping. She had been holding back her bladder for the better part of the trip. The freeway separating Tara’s house from her mother’s best friend was legendary. She had been holding back the two colas she had pounded at lunch and was thankful the end was nearly in sight. “I keep telling you it's not healthy for you to keep doing this to yourself; I thought we were past this.” Diane continued. In her current condition, Tara couldn’t help but agree with her. Ever since she was little, she had issues with bathroom breaks. As a small child, she was potty trained early, but that did not stop her from constantly having accidents. Her mom always said she had her ‘head in the clouds’; she would be so focused on something that nothing else would matter… nothing. As she grew older, Tara continued to have accidents that would go up and down in frequency. When she started school, she earned the unpleasant nickname ‘Tinkle Tara’. Between accidents and a bout with bedwetting when she was 7 and 9 years old, it looked like she was doomed to it. However, for whatever reason, a switch had flipped, and it had been nearly 8 years since ‘Tinkle Tara’ was uttered. On the other hand, in the last few months, Tara has been putting her bathroom training through the ringer. Time after time, she found herself holding her bladder and aching from the effort. Whether it was at the mall, watching a movie, or sitting through classes, the urge to go was becoming more frequent and urgent each time. She had not told her mother that she almost always felt the need to go ‘right now’ whenever she had to pee. It never helped matters that her mother was a health nut and had drilled into her to keep hydrated, so she always was drinking water. It was a habit, but then again, it was only in the last few months that things started to go sideways. Now Tara was also going to be playing ‘big sister/babysitter’ to a 10 year old. Her mother and Brittany’s, had been friends since High School and now work for the same company. Both had been married and are now divorced. With lucrative jobs and a daughter, they were about as close as any family member. So when they both were chosen to go overseas to be in charge of operations in a new business move for the company, they quickly decided the plan. As Tara was 18, she would watch and take care of Britteny until the two mothers got back, which would be around the beginning of the summer. “Now remember, you have to be in charge of Brittany and keep up with your school work. Those are the two most important things,” her mother said, for about the hundredth time. “Mom, I know. I have hung out with Brittany plenty of times before,” Tara countered. “Not for this long and with this many responsibilities. Plus, Cathrine has… Well something else that you are going to have to keep track of,” her mom finished. “Oh?” the girl raised her eyebrow. “She will tell you,” her mother said giving her a look that said, this is serious. As the van pulled into the garage of Cathrine and Brittany’s home, Tara shot like a bullet out the door into the house. Catherine was blurred as she shot for the bathroom in the room she usually stayed in on the second floor. Scrambling through the door, the sight of the bathroom made Tara relax. “No!” she gasped, hurriedly tired to get the button on her shorts undone. She had relaxed too early, and now things were out of control. Finally sitting on the seat, a sharp but blissful relief crept over her. She had not realized how much and how painful this time had been. Tara knew that she should stop doing this but, for now, inspected the damage to her shorts. The whole crotch of the garment was a darker shade of blue and was a lost cause. Luckily, she had one other pair close to these that she could grab from her bag and slip into. This was only the third time this had happened, but it certainly was not something she enjoyed. Slipping into fresh clothes, she made her way back down to the living room to ‘officially’ greet Cathrine and Brittany. “Whew, sorry about that,” she greeted Catherine. “It’s alright, pretty on par for you, ha!” Cathrine jested, then her voice went low,“Follow me to the kitchen.” Her mother was talking with Brittany, and the girl was looking like she did not have much to say, so she followed Catherine. “So there is something that I have been keeping from you; I just told her mother last night,” she let out with a long breath. “Oh no, is something wrong?” Tara blurted out. “No, no, nothing serious, but… Brittany has been having some troubles. Bathroom troubles,” she responded flatly. A heat rose in Tara’s cheeks, and she simply said, “Oh…” “Now I know that you had your own issues, but I recently saw a book about accidents among older children and teenagers. I have Brittany following some rules that are designed to help her get through this phase.” Cathrine explained as she put a hardcover book on the counter. “The front of the book explains how the rules work - the ins and outs as they were. And in the back there is the list of rules and a little chart if you need it,” she went on. Tara picked up the book, and before she could utter a word, Cathrine continued, “You obviously don’t have to read it, and Brittany knows the first two rules by heart now, but you should read them and she has to follow them. Supplies are in the upstairs hall closet.” “Supplies?” the girl questioned. “Well, in a nutshell, Brittany has to use protection whenever she has accidents. The more accidents, the more protection, and the more…eh… privileges she loses.” the older woman explained. “Ah, well, I guess that makes sense.” Tara concluded. She couldn’t believe it, Brittany was in diapers! It was a shock only because there had never been a hint to her that her little friend may have had such troubles. Well, Tara herself was smaller, but not terribly so, but she was still taller by a couple of inches. Brittany had a heart shaped face, round blue eyes, and shorter brunette hair, while Tara had sandy blonde hair past her shoulders, brown eyes, and a longer face. Both had followed their mother’s genes, like matched sets. “Cathrine, we need to get to the airport,” her own mother called out. “Oh yes, coming!” she replied, and then to Tara, “Just read the rules and make sure Brittany follows them, simple as it gets!” With that, she hugged Tara and made her way to the living room, where her daughter and Tara’s mother were. There were the usual tearful goodbyes, as the realization of how long it would be before they were all together again sunk in. All too soon, it was just Tara and Brittany watching TV in silence as the girls both recovered from the painful departure. Tara ordered pizza as a way of cheering them both up, and by the time the large pizza and sodas had been consumed, it was close to bedtime. She, Tara, knew it was time to broach the subject. She decided to do so in a manner that showed she trusted Brittany to know what she had to do. “Well, I guess it is time for bed, Brit,” she stated. Brittany yawned. “Yeah, I guess so.” The girl got up from the couch and made her way to the stairs. “Wait, Brittany!” she called to stop the girl. “Is there something we need to talk about? Some rules?” The younger girl froze, and she stiffened as she turned to face Tara, so she went on the offensive. “Before you say anything, it's alright. I had problems when I was around your age,” she tried to soothe Brittany. “I don’t want to follow the rules without mom,” she almost spat back at Tara. “Look, this will go smoothly if we just follow what your mom wants you to do.” Tara countered. “But… it's just… It's so embarrassing, and I want to just be normal.” Brittany pleaded, “Please don't make me do them.” It nearly broke Tara’s heart to see Brittany clinging onto a small hope that she would be out of whatever she had been enduring. “What exactly are the rules you are supposed to follow, i haven't read them yet because I want you to tell me,” Tara said. “Well, umm… you… There are five rules, and if you have any, you know. Then you start at 1 and go from there.” Brittany mumbled. “I see, and what rule are you on now?” She questioned further. “1B,” Brittany said out of the side of her mouth. “1B?” “Yeah, the first rule has three parts… some kind of like grace period before the rest of the rules, I guess.” Brittany had crossed her arms and had not looked at Tara since she started talking about the rules. “How far have you gone down the list?” Tara asked with complete curiosity. “Just two, but it was awful.” Brittany huffed. Tara was in a bind; she didn’t want to fight Brittany for weeks on end. And she didn’t want to have to deal with Brittany having accidents she could prevent. But most of all, she did want to have fun with Brittany; she really was like a little sister. The girl shouldn’t have to feel alone in this… then it hit her. It was drastic, but it just might work. “Alright, let's look at 1B,” Tara announced. Going into the kitchen, she opened the back of the book and found the page with 1A at the top. She read out, “1A - a single day-time accident will result in a pull-up for 1 day and night.” Turning the page, she also read, “1B - a single night-time accident will result in regular pull-ups for 2 days & night-time pull-ups for 2 nights.” Brittany was bright red but Tara talked fast to ease the embarrassment. “So you…” “The night before last, this is my second night. Mom let me go without during the day today because she was leaving,” the girl clarified. “Good, then we will both follow the rules going forward.” Tara stated. “Both?” Brittany asked. “Both,” she replied. “What good is that? It's still just me that will have to do any of it!” Brittany screeched. “Hold on. Did you see me dash upstairs when I got here?” Tara asked, and the girl nodded. “Well, I didn't quite make it, and my shorts got a bit wet. So I guess that puts me on 1A, right?” she said, matter of fact. “You're lying,” Brittany huffed, but Tara was prepared for this. A quick trip to her room and her shorts from earlier presented to Brittany were all the evidence she needed. “Whoa!” Brittany exclaimed. “Told you, so we will both be in pull-ups tonight. Your mom gave you a break, so we will just go with the pull-ups tonight. And if we are both dry in the morning, this all resets, right?” She asked cheerily. “Yeah, but… but… “ Brittany couldn’t come up with an argument. “Now come on, we are still about the same size; let's see if they fit and we can get off to bed.” Tara led the dumbstruck girl up the stairs and to the closet. It was packed with white boxes, each labeled in the upper corner. The shelf at chest height had two opened boxes, one of the left read ‘Slims’. Thinking these must be the pull-ups she grabbed two, and handed one to Brittany. “Let’s both get pjs on, i will come to your room in about 10 minutes.” Tara said as she closed her door behind her. Throwing the pull-up on the bed, it suddenly hit Tara what she was about to do. It had been so long since she had worn something like that she almost felt as if it stared back at her. As if this meant more than just a means to an end. Shaking her head, she inspected the pull-up; it wasn’t any of the major brands she knew. In fact, it only had an “R” in the center of the waistband to indicate a brand. The sides were just a bit longer than the width of her hand and the padding looked fairly thin, but then it was just a pull-up. Changing into a tank top with thin shoulder straps, she placed her usual PJ pants next to the pull up on the bed. Stepping into the pull-up she began to doubt that she would fit, yet as she dragged it up to her waist, it never seemed to tighten. Standing there, 18 years old, and in a pull-up, it may as well have been fitted for her. It clung to her a bit but didn’t feel tight, and she felt the leg holes conform around her leg just below her butt, a perfect fit. She walked around and noted the extra padding and the overall ‘bulk’ she was not accustomed to as she moved. Satisfied, she pulled her PJs over the pull-up and went to see Brittany. Knocking on the door, the girl called out that she was ready. Tara was momentarily taken aback as Brittany had some small shorts and the diaper spilled out of the top and the sides. “All set?” she asked. “Yeah… I guess,” but Brittany kept glancing at Tara's PJs. Pulling the band of her pants down a bit, Tara showed the top of the pull and said, “Fitted just fine.” Tara began to giggle, and a smile reached Brittany's face as well. Soon they were laughing hard at the situation, and the tension was broken between them. “Night, Brit, see in the morning.” Tara chuckled out. “Night, Tara” was the reply as the younger girl got into bed. Back in her own room, Tara turned off the lights and got under the streets, exhausted. However, she almost immediately realized why Brittany’s shorts were so small. Being under covers, in pants, and in a pull-up was not the most comfortable thing. But tiredness eventually overtook Tara, and she drifted off.

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.

May 22, 2016 Hi, I’m Eddie. This isn’t a diary; it’s a journal. I like to write, and I want to become a better writer, so I decided to start a journal. My teacher said writing in a journal is a good way to become a better writer. I wasn’t sure what to write about, so I asked my teacher. She said, “Write about yourself, it’s what you know best.” Well, what can I say about myself? Let’s start with the biggest thing. I’m fifteen years old, and I still wet my bed. It’s not even just sometimes. It happens almost every night. I haven’t been dry since January. That’s right! I’m in high school and I’ve peed my pants 134 nights in a row. My mom used to keep track of stuff like that, but she stopped a few years ago. I still keep track, but I don’t know why. It makes me feel like a baby. Some kids stop wetting the bed when they are two years old, and most stop when they are three. I’m fifteen, and I still pee in the bed like a little baby. I guess there are some other teenagers who wet the bed, but for most of them, it’s because something happened that they can’t control. It’s not like they aren’t fully potty-trained. I’ve done this all of my life. I’ve never stopped. The longest streak I’ve ever had is three nights in a row, and that only happened once. A few years ago, I thought it was getting better. When I was twelve years old, I didn’t wet the bed every single night. It still happened, and it happened a lot. It happened more often than not, but I stayed dry at least once a week; that’s when I had my three-night streak. I certainly didn’t wet my bed 134 nights in a row! That’s for sure. Unfortunately, it stopped. I began to wet the bed more often than before, and not less. My doctor thinks I’m sleeping sounder because I’m growing. Trust me, it feels like we’ve tried everything. We tried the medicine, but that just made me feel sick and I still wet the bed. We tried an alarm, but that just woke everybody else up. I slept through it and still wet the bed. My mom used to wake me up in the middle of the night to take me to the bathroom, but I hated it. Who wants to be an eleven-year-old kid who needs his mommy to take him to the potty? Most of the time, I didn’t even remember using the bathroom. Sometimes I was already wet. My mom would change my sheets, and I would wet the bed again. I’m not allowed to drink anything after six o’clock and I can only drink one glass of juice after school. I’m always thirsty and it’s not even helping. My mom made us wear diapers when I was younger, but she stopped when my little sister didn’t need them anymore. Emily was only four years old and could stay dry all night. She didn’t need diapers anymore, but her big brother and big sister still did. Sara was twelve years old and had to wear a diaper every night! I can’t imagine being that old and having to wear a diaper. Mom didn’t even use Pull-ups; she used Pampers! We wore the largest size she could find. I was nine and Sara was twelve, and my mom treated us like we were babies. After that, Sara didn’t want to wear diapers anymore. She threw a couple of tantrums, which only got her in trouble. It never changed Mom’s mind. One night she begged. She promised to do the laundry if she wet the bed. Amazingly my mom agreed. She said, “You two aren’t babies anymore. No more diapers, but you have to take care of your bed.” I think it worked for Sara, but it never worked for me. I thought maybe I would stop when I turned thirteen, just like it did with Sara, but it didn’t. Now, I use Goodnites, which are kind of like diapers. They are padded like diapers, but my mom doesn’t have to put them on me. They are meant for older kids, and don’t have little kid designs. Mom says that nobody can tell when I’m wearing one, but I think it’s pretty obvious. Unfortunately, they leak! They don’t leak all the time, but it happens a lot. I think I just pee too much. Sometimes, I forget to put my sheets in the washing machine. When that happens, my mom gets mad. Yesterday she yelled at me, “For God sakes Eddie! You’re fifteen years old. You shouldn’t wet the bed and you’re old enough to take care of it when you do. The least you can do is put the sheets in the washing machine.” I think my mom is frustrated and I understand why. Who wants to have a teenager who isn’t fully potty-trained? My mom is normally supportive and tries to help. Yesterday, after yelling at me about the sheets, she told me about a doctor who can help older kids who wet the bed. His name is Dr. Albert Bennet. Apparently, his program takes about six months. He said that 80 percent of his patients stopped within a year, and those who didn’t, learned how to manage their bedwetting. They recondition your brain, and you learn not to wet the bed anymore. Mom asked, “What do you think?” “I think it looks good.” “If we do this, will you follow the rules? I don’t want to do this if you won’t cooperate.” “I guess so. What do I have to do?” “I’m not sure, but conditioning means that you’ll have to do something. Do you want to try it?” I told her, “Yeah, I guess so. Yes, I’ll try anything. I don’t want to wet my bed anymore, and if this helps, I’ll try it.” Mom replied, “Okay, we’ll set up an appointment with Dr. Bennet.” I don’t know what they mean by conditioning my brain, nor what it looks like to manage my bedwetting. I don’t care, I just want to stop wetting my bed. I want to be potty-trained before I go to college.

Hi everyone, This is my first attempts ever at writing a story of any kind, I hope you will enjoy it. It's the first chapter, I don't know how many it will contain or exactly where the story will go. I'm working on the next chapter, and I appreciate any feedback and constructive criticism. I have gone over it a couple of times, but might have missed some mistakes, English isn't my native language. Enjoy the read! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Mysterious Mansion Chapter 1: “Damn it!” the 26-year-old Sarah said to herself, after seeing her nice shoes getting stained from the mud. She didn’t expect the lawn she was walking on to be completely soaked and muddy, causing her shoes, which at first were beautiful and light pink, to now be dirty and mostly brown. Not that she had any right to complain, seeing as she was technically trespassing. The reason she was trekking through the grass in the first place was to make sure she stayed out of sight of any potential onlookers, while she walked up to the seemingly abandoned mansion. She knew she shouldn’t even be trying to reach the house, but she could no longer help herself. Every day she passed the beautiful house on her way to work and back, and every time she wondered if anyone was living there. She never saw anyone on the grounds or in the windows and there were never any cars parked. The yard seemed well maintained, though, and the front gates were locked every time she cheekily tried to open them. No longer being able to contain her curiosity, she had decided to walk around the perimeter of the grounds, following the huge hedge that loomed over her, which kept the mansion and the grounds obscured. After a brisk walk, she eventually found a tree close to the tall hedge, and after putting her long, blonde hair in a ponytail, decided to climb it. First, she got out her water bottle from her backpack and took a big gulp, trying to wash away the anxieties of what she was about to do. One of the lower branches hung above the hedge and looked sturdy enough to hold her weight, and, after a brief climb, she managed to reach it. Not pondering about it too long, she placed her feet on the thick branch, carefully testing it to see if her claim held true and it could support her full weight. A tiny voice in the back of her head warned her that this might not be a good idea, and when she looked down, she got slightly dizzy from the height. Just as she was deciding to climb back down, she heard a loud “crack” and she felt the branch she was standing on give way, taking her with it. She yelped and tried to jump back towards the tree, but she was too late, and the branch she was standing on, along with Sarah herself, broke free from the tree and fell towards the ground. Through sheer luck, her backpack got caught halfway down the hedge and left her dangling with her feet off the ground a good distance from the ground. After she recovered from the shock and looked down, she figured was stuck in the hedge with her backpack. Deciding she had no other choice but to abandon her cute, pink backpack she herself had embroidered with pretty flowers, she raised her arms and let herself slide out of her backpacks’ straps, towards the ground, and landing on both her feet. Looking up at her backpack hanging high up in the hedge, out of reach, she counted herself lucky she wasn’t injured. She felt a pang of sadness that she lost it, but decided that she could come back for it later. It hung safe out of sight from everyone outside the yard, and she reasoned that she could probably find something around the mansion to help her get it back when she was done exploring. Looking down at her light pink summer dress, she batted some leaves from it, seeing that her dress had survived the fall and was mostly undamaged, except for a small tear in her shoulder strap, but it did get a little dirty from the encounter. Checking her surroundings again, making sure that there was nobody around to spot her, she looked at the thick branch she took down with her and thought to herself how lucky she was, and that she probably shouldn’t be climbing any more trees, before letting her gaze fall upon the massive mansion, and venturing towards it. That is how she found herself lamenting her pretty shoes and she almost decided it wasn’t worth it, but her curiosity got the better of her and she kept walking. Her shoes were ruined now anyway. Now that she was getting close, she saw how beautiful, but old, the mansion was, it’s size looming over her even more than she could have imagined before. It seemed to be two stories high, built entirely out of large, beige bricks and with beautifully decorated windowsills. It looked old, but very well-maintained, without any visible damage or dirt. Whoever built this place, however long ago, must have been enormously rich, she thought to herself. She noted that the yard extended much further behind the building than the front, apparently being four or five times bigger than she expected, and counting herself lucky that she didn’t have to walk that far. She came upon the giant double doors that were the main entrance and was relieved to see that it was impossible to see her from the streets, and there wasn’t a single soul to be spotted in the windows either. She tried opening the doors, expecting them to be locked, but to her surprise, they opened easily. Pushing the left door open, the hinges creaked loudly, startling Sarah and causing her to jump back. She ducked and waited outside around the corner, scared of someone inside possibly having heard, but nothing seemed to happen. She waited a few moments more, but no one came to the front door, so she decided to take a quick peek inside. Entering the main hall, her mouth fell open in amazement. “Holy hell!” she accidentally exclaimed, forgetting she was trying to be sneaky. She slammed her hand to her mouth and hoped yet again no one had heard her. With her heartbeat racing, she looked around the large room, almost immediately forgetting that she wasn’t supposed to be here. She saw a main hall stretch on for a seemingly infinite distance, flanked by two staircases leading to next floor. The guard rails were decorated with marble and ornate shapes, looking like works of art belonging in a museum. Paintings taller than she was were hung on every wall, a chandelier with hundreds of precious stones glittered like the sun hung from the ceiling and she saw more doors than she was able to count down the hallway, upstairs and in the foyer. As she walked along the beautiful and thick red carpet, she noticed her shoes were tracking mud inside. Horrified, Sarah immediately took them off and threw them out the front door, on the steps leading up to it. The floor was a comfortable temperature for her feet, and she figured she wouldn’t need shoes inside anyway. It also had the added bonus of her footsteps being quiet as a cat with her socks on the thick carpet. She looked at the doors on either side of the room at the bottom of both staircases and decided to just have a quick look around, holding the believe there was no one inside to catch her sneaking around. She randomly decided on the door on her left, but when she was walking towards it, she felt a light breeze and heard a loud creaking echo around the spacious room. With a horrified expression, she looked back to see the front door slowly closing. She quickly sprinted towards it, but she was too late to stop it. It shut with a loud bang, just when she was able to grab the handle. In a slight panic, she pulled it with all her strength, but the door remained firmly shut. She looked for a way to unlock them but finding only a keyhole, with no key nearby. “What bad luck,” Sarah thought to herself, getting slightly anxious, “Very weird how it opened so easily before, but now is refusing to budge. Well, I guess I have to find another exit or a key now.” Slightly alarmed, but also a bit curious, she opened the door at the bottom of the stairs and walked through it. A long while later, Sarah had forgotten all about her fear of being discovered, sneaking around the foreign house. She was mostly just in awe at the size of every new room she found. Every room seemed much larger than it would have needed to be, and Sarah assumed that the owners must have very excessive taste. There was a kitchen, so large it could have twenty people working in it at the same time and would probably be able to serve ten times as many people. A dining room with a beautiful, ornate table which could fit everyone she knew. She found a library with hundreds of books, most in English, but some in exotic languages she couldn’t place, with a cozy reading nook. There were bathrooms, bedrooms, a tv room, storage room and even a room with a pool table. Most of the furniture was covered in a layer of dust, and everything looked like no one had been in there for years, but aside from that, everything seemed to be in pristine condition. What she didn’t find, however, and was starting to worry her just a small bit, was a door leading outside. The windows were not an option either, every single one was too high of the floor to reach or had thick, metal bars covering the outside. After losing count of how many rooms she had explored, and still seeing many doors she hadn’t tried yet, she happened to come upon the entrance hall again, mostly due to chance. The various hallways and huge rooms with multiple doors resulted in a very confusing building, making it very hard for Sarah to keep track of where she was. While she was in the foyer, she tried the front door again, but still no luck and she found her gaze exploring the stairway up, making her more and more curious what could be up there. Aware that she was even less likely to find an exit up there, she decided to and explore anyway. After walking through the seemingly endless corridors she found that many doors on this floor were locked, except for a few more bathrooms and a few bedrooms. She did notice, however, that it was starting to get dark outside, and Sarah thought she should go and find an exit soon. “Maybe there will be a fire escape?” she thought to herself, unsure if she believed herself at all. Deep inside she knew she was dying to see more of the beautiful mansion, and wanted to explore everything it had to offer. The next door she tried opened to reveal what seemed to be a large playroom, large even by the standards of this crazy huge house, filled with hundreds of toys, seemingly aimed a very young children or babies. Strangely, this room was completely clean, and no traces of dust could be found, unlike every other room she had discovered so far. Sarah entered the room and walked around in amazement. The first thing she came across was a row of dolls on standards, on a low shelf. The sizes of the dolls varied from 30 centimeters to some almost as tall as she was! They all had subtly different faces and different hair colors, but they all had kind expressions. “These must have cost a fortune!” Sarah mumbled to herself. They all had different outfits on too, ranging from nurses, teachers, yoga instructors and princesses, and they all seemed to have a mature, curvy shape, which caused Sarah to blush as she found herself staring. Quickly walking on, she found that the last doll in the line, one of the larger ones, strangely, and with the same proportions as the other ones, was dressed as a baby, including comically huge, thick, and pink diapers and an equally pink pacifier, covered in hearts, on a pink cord clipped to the light pink onesie it was wearing. She noticed that the onesie was the same shade of pink as the dress she was wearing, and when she compared it to the other dolls, she found that that particular doll was the only one with blonde hair, exactly the same color as her own. “What a coincidence!” She giggled to herself, walking on and not giving it much further thought. She would have loved to play with those when she was younger, she thought to herself, and secretly still a bit now. Sarah continued to explore the room. She found loads of different types of toys, that were, as most things in this house, much larger than she had seen them before. There was a rocking horse she could have fit on easily, and piles of stuffed animals, she even saw a few stuffed animals sitting against the wall which were bigger than she was, even in their current, sitting position! She couldn’t contain herself when she saw the largest stuffed animal was her favorite color. A giant pink bear with a large and friendly smile on its cute face, and a big heart on its belly. Despite Sarah knowing it wasn’t real, she felt it had a welcoming expression with its big, blue, comforting eyes. Even though she knew it was childish, she couldn’t stop herself, and jumped on his lap, folding her arms around it and giving it a big hug while burying her face in its soft fur. Despite Sarah being alone in a strangers’ house, cuddling with stuffed animals that didn’t belong to her, she felt completely safe, and she let herself totally relax. It even felt like the bear was hugging her back, but she knew that that was impossible, it was just a stuffed animal after all! When, after a long moment of hugging it with her eyes closed, she suddenly, felt the faintest of movements on her back, akin to something very large, very gently stroking her. She immediately opened her eyes and looked at her back, but she saw nothing except the arms of the bear on whose lap she was sitting, which were close to her, but not touching. She quickly got up, nervously looked around her and at the bear. Its expression remained exactly the same as before, but somehow looking at it now made her a bit uncomfortable, getting the eerie and weird sensation it could get up and grab her at any moment. She took a few steps backwards, but the bear remained exactly where it was, immobile. After staring at it for another while, she sighed, feeling like an idiot. “Of course the bear isn’t gonna move, it’s just a toy!” she said to herself, softly. Having calmed down a bit, she decided it would be best to leave this oversized playroom, thinking she should be heading home. When she entered the hallway, not being exactly sure from which way she came, she decided to check out one more room, just to satiate her curiosity. She picked a random direction to walk in and tried the first door she saw finding it, unfortunately, locked. She didn’t mind it much and walked on to try the next one, enjoying the feeling of the soft carpet on her feet. After trying a few doors that were locked, she came upon one that made her feel… weird. Sarah couldn’t exactly explain why, but she felt hesitant to open this particular door, even though it looked exactly the same as all the others, the hairs on the back of her neck standing upright as she approached it. She felt like she was just being a scaredy-cat and making a fuss out of nothing, so she soldiered on and grabbed the handle. It wasn’t locked, and opened easily, somehow almost disappointing Sarah. When she saw what was waiting behind the door, she loudly gasped. Before her was an explosion of pink, a room equally as big as the playroom she just visited, and almost everything was different shades of pink. It was obviously a nursery, Sarah thought, as it had a crib, changing table and other things you would need to take care of a baby. Just as the playroom, this room seemed spotless and very well-maintained and a sweet, almost homely smell seemed to hang in the air. Upon realizing that this room looked spotless and very much in use, Sarah quickly checked the crib again to make sure it wasn’t occupied, which, fortunately, it wasn’t. She slowly walked around the room, taking in the sights and being fascinated by the color palette. Everything was a shade of soft pink, and as she looked down at her dress she giggled and figured she would fit right in. What stood out to her as she approached the crib was just how big it was, it was easily the size of a double bed, and the bars were taller than she was. Fascinated, she continued to check the changing table, which was large enough for her to comfortably lie down on. “Just how tall are the owners of this house?” she wondered to herself. Like all the other rooms so far, this one seemed to be unnecessarily big, just as everything in it. She looked around the room and saw a large chest, a small cupboard with drawers, a large, mesh playpen that came up to her head with an open door, various pink cupboards, and a door. She got curious about the door and approached it, wondering what would lie beyond. When she opened it, she was amazed yet again, at the size of this room, which seemed to merely function as a wardrobe. She figured it was bigger than her living room! Uncountable pieces of clothing of all kinds were neatly hung on hangers, and a lot of it was very pink, and very frilly with many, many ruffles. She looked around in awe, thinking that it seemed to be perfect for a cute girl who would live in this nursery. She randomly grabbed an article of clothing, which turned out to be an adorable princess dress which any little girl would love to wear, bright pink with poofy shoulders and lots of glitter. Although strangely, when she held it up to her own body, it didn’t seem to be sized for a little girl, but it looked like it would perfectly fit herself, although the skirt of it was rather short. She shuddered and quickly hung it back, this dress would be too much even for her and her love of pink, and she left the closet without investigating any further. She was starting to get a bit freaked out by the scale of everything in this house and decided to leave this oversized nursery. She walked towards the door and looked back one last time, wondering who could possibly have lived here and how long ago, and having a strange affection for sheer amount of pink in this room. She grabbed the doorhandle and pulled. She almost walked face-first in the door when it refused to budge. Surprised, she tried pulling again, but the door refused any amount of movement yet again. Starting to get frustrated, she tried pushing, pulling and slamming on it with all her strength, but the door might as well have been a concrete wall for the lack of effect her efforts seemed to have on it. Starting to get desperate, she shouted for help, but no response seemed to come. Her breathing growing more and more panicked, she looked for a way out, but she only saw windows with bars on the outside, which were too high to reach anyway, and the door leading to the closet. After trying the door for what seemed like an eternity, Sarah came to the conclusion that she was well and truly stuck. “Well, fuck.” She dryly said. Worst of all, she started to feel the need to pee.

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 💘

Summer Camp Re-Calibration Chapter 1: The Problem and My Brilliant Idea The sight of Ethan glued to his video games, another afternoon dissolving into digital nothingness, twisted my gut. It felt like a direct indictment of my parenting, a glaring crack in the foundation of the confident, resilient son I’d always envisioned. Me, Jack, the guy who wrangled million-dollar deals and made the tough calls before breakfast, suddenly felt utterly useless against a bit of nighttime dampness. It wasn’t just the damn laundry mountain; it was the anxiety clinging to Ethan like cheap cologne, the way he’d practically levitate to avoid sleepover invites, the sheer terror that bloomed on his face at the mere mention of summer camp. Bright kid, Ethan, aced his tests, even remembered to put his dirty socks in the hamper (sometimes), but this nightly… leakage felt like an insurmountable Everest of wet sheets, chipping away at my hard-earned paternal pride. “Maybe we should try therapy again, hon?” Olivia’s voice, all soft edges and concern, would drift through my brooding. She’d approach the topic like defusing a bomb, a stark contrast to my usual slam-dunk approach to problems. I’d nod, listen to her theories about underlying anxieties – all well and good, but felt about as effective as shouting at the rain. I’m a fixer, see? Always have been. Ethan needed a proper solution, something with nuts and bolts. My own Camp Grizzly memories were practically a recruitment poster: sun-drenched glory, cabin camaraderie, conquering that ridiculous climbing wall. That’s where I became Jack, dammit. Except… there were those other memories, lurking like forgotten socks under the bed. The hushed whispers about the “Waterproof Warriors” cabin, the way we’d all subtly avoid eye contact, the faint sting of my own youthful guffaws echoing in my ears. A twinge of guilt, swallowed fast but never truly gone. Surely, I reasoned, a shot of that Grizzly spirit, the great outdoors and forced activities, would toughen Ethan up. I’d survived my awkward phases; Ethan could conquer this. Olivia, bless her empathetic heart, remained the voice of doom and gloom, all worried about Ethan’s “fragile emotional state.” She saw a sensitive kid drowning in anxiety; I saw a plumbing issue needing a good wrench. My more… assertive nature usually won out, and so, despite Ethan’s watery protests and Olivia’s thinly veiled disapproval, the camp brochures sat on the counter, a done deal. Four long weeks of communal sleeping, four weeks of potential humiliation hanging over his head like a thundercloud – the agonizing prospect of his nighttime secret going public was practically a physical presence. Every excuse deployed, every argument exhausted, but I stood firm. “Good for him,” I’d declared, the sound of the gavel in my voice. “Builds character.” Still, a tiny worm of doubt had started nibbling. What if camp was a disaster? What if the teasing I vaguely recalled was still the main event? The image of Ethan, all vulnerable and squishy inside, facing that kind of kid-level cruelty for four solid weeks… it sent a genuine shiver down my spine. Nope. Not on my watch. My boy deserved better. He needed backup, a seasoned pro, someone to navigate that social minefield alongside him. And that’s when the epiphany hit, audacious even for yours truly. Down in my workshop, amidst the glorious clutter of half-finished projects and the soothing hum of nascent genius, sat my baby: the “temporal re-calibration device.” Not a time machine, not exactly. More like a… reset button for your physical form, dialing back the years within the current timeline. And with the “causality stabilizer” engaged – a trivial bit of engineering, really – the younger body would retain all the glorious memories and intellect of the older model. I’d used it for minor tweaks, a fleeting return to my youthful biceps for the high school reunion (worth every watt). But now, a far grander purpose beckoned. I’d dial myself back to a cool 14. A year older than Ethan, but young enough to blend. I’d register at Camp Grizzly as “Ace Corbin,” a self-proclaimed champion of the nightly soak, a dude who needed industrial-strength diapers. This open, almost celebratory acceptance of a far more… significant issue would, I reasoned, make Ethan’s little pull-up situation seem like small potatoes. I’d be there, a human shield against bullies, a social lubricant, a silent promise of “I’ve got your back, kid.” Bold? Borderline insane? Maybe. But fueled by pure, unadulterated paternal instinct and a deep-seated need to fix things? Absolutely. I could do this. I would make Camp Grizzly a win for Ethan, even if it meant rocking a teenage bod and pretending to like whatever the hell “Gen Z” music was. Chapter 2: The Great Regression Logistics, my forte. A vaguely corporate “off-site team-building exercise” itinerary for the office, a last-minute camp registration for “Ace Corbin” smoother than a baby’s… well, you know. And then the tearful goodbye – Ethan’s anxiety practically radiating off him in waves – as he boarded the bus. A final, strangely paternal pat on his shoulder from my soon-to-be-teenaged hand, and then I was peeling away, my trusty sedan pointed towards the glorious chaos of my workshop, a determined glint in my eye. The workshop, usually a symphony of focused energy, now thrummed with anticipation. The temporal re-calibration device, my magnum opus, stood bathed in the soft glow of its own internal lights, a glorious mess of wires and humming conduits. The touchscreen interface winked at me, a cascade of intricate parameters. My fingers danced across the glass, inputting my biosignature with practiced ease, then settling on the target age: fourteen. My adult brain double-checked every setting, my gaze lingering on the reassuring green glow of the engaged “causality stabilizer.” Deep breath in, a final mental handshake with my adult self. I hit the activation button. A low hum filled the room, escalating into a tingling vibration that zipped through my body, followed by a surprisingly pleasant rush of youthful energy. Glancing down, my expertly tailored work slacks were already bagging around my rapidly shrinking frame. Quickly, I wrestled open the pre-packed duffel. Out came the carefully curated wardrobe of a modern teen. Oversized hoodies that looked suspiciously comfortable, athletic shorts in retina-searing colors, graphic tees featuring bands Ethan mumbled about – each item felt both alien and strangely familiar against my shrinking skin. A final check in the full-length mirror on the workshop door revealed the truly bizarre sight. The reflection staring back was undeniably me, but… younger. The stress lines around my eyes had vanished, the subtle softening of my jawline now sharp and defined. This was me at fourteen, the boundless energy I vaguely remembered now thrumming beneath my skin. Not bad, not bad at all. With a renewed sense of purpose, I finished stuffing the bag. Nestled amongst the trendy threads were the linchpins of my master plan: a truly heroic supply of the thickest, most absorbent adult diapers money could buy online, the kind advertised with cartoon characters and promises of overnight dryness (ironic, given my intended use). They felt strangely substantial in my suddenly smaller hands, a tangible symbol of the role I was about to play. Slinging the duffel over my newly slender shoulder, the weight was… surprisingly reassuring. “Ace Corbin” was locked, loaded, and ready for Camp Grizzly. Chapter 3: Ace Arrives and Makes a Splash (Literally?) The “Waterwell Wonders” cabin – a name that sounded suspiciously like a euphemism – was a cacophony of adolescent angst and forced enthusiasm, a sensory assault that did nothing for Ethan’s already frayed nerves. He’d retreated to the dubious sanctuary of his upper bunk, a dog-eared fantasy novel clutched like a life raft against the swirling tide of unfamiliar faces and booming voices. Then I strolled in, radiating an almost comical level of false confidence. Easy swagger, oversized duffel slung just so, a grin plastered on my face that could curdle milk. There was a flicker of something in Ethan’s eyes, a momentary spark of recognition that almost blew my cover, a fleeting echo of… someone familiar, but the sheer teenage-ness of my current vibe clearly threw him off the scent. “Yo, what up, future cabin-mates!” I announced, my voice cracking slightly on the “up” – puberty, what a joy. “Looks like we’re the elite nocturnal moisture management team of this fine establishment! Name’s… uh… Ace Corbin.” I lowered my voice conspiratorially, though still loud enough for the whole damn cabin to hear. “And yeah, well, the rumors are true. I’m a heavy sleeper… and a heavy wetter. Like, world-record heavy. So, you know, solidarity, right?” With a dramatic flourish that would have made my high school drama teacher proud, I produced a truly enormous, cartoonishly thick diaper from my bag, holding it aloft like the Stanley Cup. A wave of nervous laughter rippled through the cabin, Ethan included, a tiny sliver of the tension around his shoulders easing. Score one for Team Dad. My expertly trained paternal gaze locked onto Ethan. I sauntered over to his bunk, my smile morphing into something I hoped looked like cool cousinly concern. “Hey there, man. You must be Ethan, right? I’m, uh… your distant cousin. Ace. Heard you were slumming it at this… adventure, and figured I’d join the party. Keep the family flag flying, you know?” Smooth, Corbin, smooth. Ethan stared, that flicker of recognition intensifying. The voice, the eyes… the resemblance to his old man was almost uncanny, yet somehow… off. Younger, looser, almost… dare I say… cool? The “distant cousin” story felt flimsy enough to see through, but the open, almost celebratory admission of the bedwetting thing clearly threw him for a loop. This “Ace” wasn’t shrinking in shame; he was owning it like a boss (a very damp boss). “Hi,” Ethan mumbled, his voice still tight with apprehension. “I’m an… occasional wetter. I just have pull-ups.” He gestured self-consciously to the discreet package on his bedside table. Small potatoes, kid, small potatoes. I nodded sagely, my grin unwavering. “Cool, man. Low-impact. We all start somewhere, right? Think of this cabin as a super-secret club. Only the… leakier members get exclusive access.” I punctuated the statement with a wink that hopefully conveyed cool cousinly understanding, and a genuine, if slightly bewildered, smile finally cracked through Ethan’s anxiety. Over the next two weeks, “Ace” became the cabin’s unexpected mascot. My self-deprecating humor about my “industrial-strength leaks” created an atmosphere of surprising tolerance. Any potential teasing directed at Ethan was effortlessly absorbed by my far more… significant… “condition.” I became the deflector shield of dampness. Organized games, told surprisingly engaging (if slightly embellished) stories, subtly made sure Ethan was always included, never isolated. I even had the other boys chuckling about their own minor nighttime mishaps, creating a bizarrely supportive, almost soggy, little ecosystem. Each night, the lights would dim, the sounds of rustling sleeping bags would fill the air, and “Ace” would ostentatiously chug a massive water bottle before hitting his bunk. Hidden beneath my pillow, my phone vibrated silently at random intervals – 1 AM one night, 3:30 AM the next. I’d wake up groggily each time, a pleasant warmth spreading… well, you know. I’d stay quiet, the subtle discomfort strangely becoming a familiar part of the night. Then I’d drift right back to sleep, the dampness a silent testament to my commitment. By morning, the truly epic saturation of my diaper was undeniable “proof” of my heavy-wetter status, a damp beacon of reassurance for Ethan and the others. But as Ethan’s confidence blossomed under my damp wing, a subtle undercurrent of something… else… began to brew within him. He admired “Ace’s” effortless charm, his seemingly carefree acceptance of the very thing that had haunted Ethan’s nights for years. It wasn’t entirely fair, was it? “Ace” got to be the cool, well-liked, albeit damp, guy, while Ethan had carried this secret shame like a lead weight. Teenage logic, I guess. Chapter 4: The Unraveling Back home, the silence of the house hummed with an unsettling emptiness. Olivia probably missed my… insightful commentary. Down in the basement, the temporal re-calibration device stood silent. Olivia had looked at the control panel, the cryptic settings a mystery. Her finger had hovered over the “Causality Stabilizer” option, the indicator light a steady green. “Causality Stabilizer,” she’d murmured, tilting her head. Sounded… limiting. With a decisive tap, the green light extinguished. A faint sense of… something… shifted in the room. Satisfied with her adjustment, Olivia had returned upstairs, none the wiser. Miles away, under the deceptive tranquility of a late summer night at Camp Grizzly, the delicate, diaper-clad ecosystem I’d so carefully constructed began to wobble. The two-week mark loomed, and a subtle temporal instability seemed to be in the air. In my bunk, my fourteen-year-old body stirred restlessly, an unseen tremor rippling through me. Something felt… off. Like I was catching a bad radio signal. Chapter 5: A Blinding Flash into a Damp, Baffling Reality SNAP! One moment, I was drifting off in my bunk in Cabin Eagle at Camp Grizzly. I’d only been here for a few days, still a bit nervous but starting to make friends. The next, a blinding flash ripped through my eyelids, and a jolt slammed through my body like hitting ice water. My head spun, and a wave of nausea washed over me. Where… where was I? This wasn’t Cabin Eagle. The air smelled damp and a little… weird, and the shapes of the other bunks in the dim light were unfamiliar. Fear, sharp and sudden, clawed at my throat. I looked down at my pajamas – not mine. And then the wetness. A cold, heavy, utterly disgusting feeling between my legs. What the hell? My heart hammered against my ribs. Had I… had I wet myself? But I hadn’t done that since I was a little kid! This was… a lot. And… what was this bulky thing I was wearing? It felt… strange. Like a thick pad. A voice, older and unfamiliar, drifted down from above. “Hey… ‘Ace’? You okay? You’re… kinda making squelching noises.” ‘Ace’? That wasn’t my name. My name was Jack. Where was Garrett? Where was Mr. Henderson, our counselor? This was the wrong cabin. The wrong voice. Everything felt wrong, terrifyingly wrong. And… was I wearing a diaper? A huge, ridiculous diaper? I tried to speak, but my throat felt like sandpaper. “Wh… where am I? This isn’t my cabin. How long have I been here?” My voice was weak, barely a whisper. “Dude, it’s Ethan. What are you talking about? We’re in the ‘Waterwell Wonders’ cabin. You know… at Camp Grizzly? It’s… been about two weeks, ‘Ace.’” Ethan’s voice held a strange mix of amusement and something else… pity? Ethan? I didn’t know any Ethan. Waterwell Wonders? That sounded like a joke cabin. This was all wrong, a horrible, disorienting nightmare. And… I was wearing a diaper? This couldn’t be happening. “Whoa, ‘Ace,’ you really soaked that one, huh? Guess you are the ‘super soaker’ after all!” The unfamiliar voice, this “Ethan,” held a cruel edge that made my stomach clench. Other shadowy figures stirred in the darkness, their stifled laughter like sharp stones thrown in my direction. That evening, before lights out, Ethan tossed me a fresh diaper. “Here, ‘Ace.’ Don’t want any midnight surprises… though they seem to happen anyway.” He watched with a detached amusement as I fumbled with the unfamiliar straps and sticky tabs, utterly clueless. He sighed and, with a strange mixture of mockery and efficiency, showed me how to put it on. As I drifted to sleep, a short buzz and a flash of warmth flickered at the edge of my awareness, feeling like a strange, recurring dream. The humiliation burned. The next two weeks in this bizarre, damp reality were a living hell. Every morning, I woke up wet, the shame a heavy weight in my chest. And every morning, I’d pull off the sodden diaper, desperate to be rid of the evidence of my nighttime humiliation. Ethan would just smirk and hand me a fresh one each evening. The short buzzing and the following warmth became a nightly occurrence, a strange, inexplicable constant. The other boys, these strangers, called me “Ace” and whispered behind my back. This “Ethan” seemed to take a strange pleasure in my humiliation, yet he was also the one facilitating this bizarre, degrading ritual. I didn’t understand any of it. I just longed to go back to my real cabin, my real friends, the time before this nightmare started, before the strange nighttime buzzing and warmth. On the final night of this camp session, a desperate hope flickered within me that I would wake up back in my own bed, and this bizarre, soggy nightmare would be over. Miles away… the lights went out. Chapter 6: The Damp Dawn of a Rewritten Life I woke with a jolt, a deep sense of unease clinging to me like a damp shroud. My own bed, the familiar floral wallpaper a stark contrast to the hazy, unpleasant remnants of a disturbing dream. Olivia stirred beside me, her breathing soft and even. But something felt profoundly wrong. A heavy, sticky discomfort emanated from my lower body, a sensation both alien and vaguely familiar. Pushing back the covers, I glanced down, my breath catching in my throat. Encasing my hips was a thick, undeniably wet adult diaper. A wave of pure, unadulterated shock slammed into me. What in God’s name? I scrambled back, a strangled gasp escaping my lips. Olivia’s eyes fluttered open, her expression calm, and accepting. Before I could stammer out a question, a torrent of fragmented, unsettling memories flooded my consciousness. Camp Grizzly. Being fourteen. Waking up wet for the first time. The bewildered, slightly disgusted faces of the other boys. Then, a relentless, insidious pattern of nighttime accidents that had apparently never stopped. The scratchy, ineffective camp diapers I'd been stuck with for nearly four weeks. The shame. It was like a hidden chapter of my adolescence, brutally unearthed. And somehow… it had always been this way, these bulky, embarrassing things a constant, shameful secret. “Morning, hon,” Olivia said, her voice carrying a quiet strength, a subtle air of… competence that made a knot tighten in my stomach. There was no surprise in her eyes, no confusion. Only a gentle, practiced understanding. “You had a rough night.” Rough night? This was… this was a nightmare. “Olivia… what… what is this?” I gestured weakly to the sodden diaper. Her hand reached out, not in alarm, but in a comforting, almost maternal gesture. “It’s alright, Jack. Just a little accident. It happens.” Her tone was soothing, matter-of-fact, as if discussing the weather. A strange role reversal seemed to have occurred. The decisive, take-charge man I thought I was felt utterly lost, adrift in a sea of damp indignity, while Olivia exuded a quiet, unwavering authority. “I’ll get you cleaned up,” she continued, her voice brooking no argument. “I will call your boss. You’re working from home today.” Not a suggestion, but a statement of fact. My usual protests died in my throat. A strange sense of resignation settled over me. As Olivia efficiently and without a hint of distaste helped me change, the fragmented memories solidified, weaving a new, unwelcome narrative of my past. The confident, dry adolescent I vaguely recalled from before my fourteenth year now felt like a fleeting fantasy, replaced by a shame-ridden bedwetter, navigating teenage years with a secret burden of damp sheets and hushed anxieties. The carefree memories of my twenties and thirties now felt subtly tainted, shadowed by an underlying fear of exposure, a constant vigilance against potential embarrassment. I had a faint, confusing echo of a short time, maybe two weeks, where I was called "Ace" and the diapers were better, but that was just a strange, fleeting dream amidst the much longer, humiliating reality of being just Jack at camp, constantly wet. Later that morning, the memory of my workshop surfaced, a fleeting image of wires and half-finished projects. A daring, idiotic plan to rewrite the past. It felt like a dream now, a bizarre fantasy disconnected from this soggy reality. The temporal re-calibration device, my grand solution, was gone, lost in the rewritten fabric of my existence. There would be no triumphant return to a dry past, no chance to undo this deeply ingrained, humiliating truth. Looking at Olivia, at the quiet strength in her eyes, I saw a new dynamic in our relationship. The balance had shifted, subtly but irrevocably. She was no longer just my supportive wife; she was also my patient caretaker, navigating this lifelong secret with a grace I hadn’t known she possessed. A sigh escaped my lips, heavy with resignation. The fight had gone out of me. The confident fixer I once was had been replaced by someone… else. Someone defined by this persistent dampness, by this lifelong secret now brought into the harsh light of day. There was no time machine to be found, no reset button for this rewritten life. All that remained was the damp reality of the present and the quiet acceptance of a past I no longer recognized as my own. This was my life now. And somehow, I would have to learn to live it, one soggy morning at a time. The End

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

Chapter One “Hey, Elliott? Come on downstairs. She’ll be here any minute.” As in, his babysitter. It was more annoying than embarrassing. Elliott was twenty years old, and way too old to need supervision while his parents were away for the weekend. As they had explained to him, however, this was more about his grades than his ability to stay out of trouble. Though he had coasted through his first year of university, the same couldn’t be said about his time as a sophomore. Elliott had low Bs in half his classes and mid Cs in the others. And, since he was living at home to save on room and board, his parents were well aware that he had a habit of slacking off and choosing video games over studying. He tried to assure them that he would be fine, just like he had been in December. Admittedly, he had crammed pretty hard in order to pass those exams, yet that also proved he was capable of doing the same this time around. His parents were less confident, especially since failing any of his classes meant that he would lose his scholarship. Which is why they hired Vanessa to make sure he studied properly over the weekend while they were on vacation. Vanessa was a neighbor, a young adult who had moved in a few months ago and had quickly established herself as a competent nanny. Between her experience and her availability, which couldn’t always be said for younger babysitters, she had great reviews and barely needed to advertise her services any more. Elliott’s parents, for example, met her at a neighborhood event once, and later heard good things about her from a couple a few doors down. There was also the fact that they couldn’t hire a teenager to watch their college aged son, so it made way more sense to ask someone like Vanessa. Elliott had never met her before, as he didn’t go to those events any more. He was too old to hang out with the neighborhood kids, and too young to have any interest in socializing with the adults. That, and he preferred gaming these days. It’s what he was doing when his mother called him from the main floor. Thankfully, he was playing a single player game with a pause function, or he would have to deal with the age-old explanation of how he couldn’t just drop everything when his teammates were relying on him and he had to finish the round before getting up. He quietly groaned to himself and stood up, heading out of his room and down the stairs to be polite and greet Vanessa. Maybe she would stay out of his hair if he played nice from the beginning. After all, he was a young adult himself, even if being in university didn’t make him quite as grown up as the nanny who had her own house and was running her own business. Hopefully she would realize that Elliott was self-sufficient enough, and proceed to leave him alone and take the easy money. The doorbell rang just as he reached the top step. Elliott only hesitated for a moment, before continuing the descent. He wasn’t sure what to expect, though there was really no reason to be nervous. This was all going to be more of an inconvenience than anything else. He definitely hadn’t prepared himself for Vanessa to be hot. As his mother opened the door, the redhead on the other side came into view, wearing a red dress that was quite the contrast to the t-shirt/jeans combo his babysitters tended to wear back when he was young enough to actually need someone around when his parents went out. “Good afternoon,” she smiled, “And thank you again for the opportunity. It’s always exciting to work with a new family.” “I’m just glad you were free this weekend,” his mother said, “Come on in. I can give you a quick tour, and answer any questions you have before heading out. Elliott is upstairs, but should be down in a minute.” The stairs led right down to the front door, so Vanessa could easily see him in the background. “That must be him,” she said, “Hey, Elliott. Ready for a productive weekend?” “Something like that,” he muttered. Her attractiveness was a little disarming. Though she was being ever so slightly patronizing with her greeting, he couldn’t help but wonder if he had a chance with her. Maybe not, considering the 5-8 year age gap; it was tough to get an immediate read on how old she was. Vanessa stepped inside, complete with her duffel bag slung over one shoulder, “A tour would be lovely. Elliott, do you mind gathering your academic materials for me in the meantime? I was given an overview of what you need to get done this weekend, but I’d love to go over the specifics with you.” Short of being needlessly difficult, he didn’t have a reason to say ‘no.’ The good news was, it was university. His parents only knew what classes he was taking, as well as the broad strokes of his GPA. Unlike high school, they weren’t in communication with his professors or anything like that. Ideally, he could ensure that Vanessa was in a similar boat in terms of not knowing exactly what he had to get done by Monday. He returned to his room, as there was no reason to tag along for a tour. Unlike babysitters from his childhood, Vanessa would be staying overnight, likely in the guest bedroom. Other than that, he assumed it would be the same. Ordering pizza with whatever money his parents were leaving with her, or perhaps cooking if she was into that; it really depended on the sitter. Of course, he preferred the former option. As for the materials she requested, there wasn’t much for Elliott to show. The semester was nearly over, which meant he only had a few assignments left to deal with. Other than that, it was simply a matter of studying for his exams the following week, which he hadn’t planned on starting until Tuesday or Wednesday. Not wanting to look bad, he at least took the effort to pull out each syllabus and turn to the last page. Partly to show Vanessa that her services weren’t actually needed, and because looking disorganized would validate his parents’ decision to hire her in the first place. Other than that, he wasn’t sure what to do while he waited. Deciding to avoid smalltalk and a drawn out departure where his parents were involved, he opted to stay in his room for the time being. It would be easier to figure out whatever his dynamic with Vanessa would be if he didn’t have to do so in front of his family. It didn’t take long for the tour to bring Vanessa to his bedroom; Elliott hadn’t considered that when returning to his desk and looking up potential builds for one of his mains in the MOBA he and his friends were into. There was no point in resuming what he was playing earlier, as he’d have to deal with Vanessa sooner rather than later anyway. “Hmm. It’s pretty messy in here,” Vanessa said. Barely one step into the room, and clearly in babysitter mode. “Maybe we should tackle this first? I bet you’ll be more productive in a cleaner space.” Hopefully she was just putting on a show for his mother, who was standing right there. Elliott did regret not tidying a bit before the tour led them upstairs. In his defense, this had been his bedroom for his whole life, and his habits hadn’t changed much since starting university. And, since he lived with his parents, there weren’t many opportunities for him to have a girl over. Though Vanessa was attractive, it wasn’t as if she was an instant crush or anything like that. At the same time, first impressions were still important. “Couldn’t hurt,” his mother agreed, “Although, good luck. I’ve mentioned the clutter for years. Anyway, are you all set here, Vanessa?” “Of course,” she nodded, “I’ve got both your numbers on speed dial for the weekend, as well as Leslie’s next door in case of emergency. Plus Elliott is older than my usual charges, so I’m sure he won’t be a problem. Isn’t that right, Elliott?” He was definitely old enough to understand a lose/lose question like that. Disagreeing would make him sound immature and needlessly difficult, yet he couldn’t think of a way to answer in the affirmative that wouldn’t sound almost as immature as doing the opposite. “We can still let Vanessa go home,” he pointed out, aiming to make it sound nonchalant. For whatever reason, he didn’t want to potentially hurt her, “Save a little money, and let me worry about school by myself?” “Vanessa is here because I’m worried about school,” she said, “Besides, she probably turned down another job or two after committing to this; it wouldn’t be fair to fire her at the last minute.” “You’re too kind,” Vanessa said, “And don’t worry, Elliott. I’m just here to supervise you. As long as you behave and get all your work done, we’ll get along just fine!” Uh huh. Except it still sounded like she was talking down to him. Probably a habit from being a nanny for said younger charges. “Great. Class information is right here.” He tapped the side of the desk that wasn’t occupied by all of his gaming stuff. “Thank you for putting that together for me,” she replied, with that same smile, “Why don’t you start by cleaning your room while I get settled? We can get started once your parents are on the road. Sound good?” Not really. But Vanessa turned and left the room without waiting for an answer. Elliott wasn’t sure where to start. He still had the teenage mentality that a pristine bedroom was idiotic when it made just as much sense knowing where everything was amidst a bit of organized chaos. His room also wasn’t that bad, especially compared to a number of his friends. Even so, he at least made the effort to pick up a few things off the floor and dealt with some of the more obvious corners that Vanessa might get on his case about. He was assuming she wasn’t expecting perfection, considering the main reason she was hired was for the sake of keeping him on task where his studying was involved. He only had a few minutes before he was being called down to the main floor again. The goodbye ritual with his parents was fairly quick. After living at home for his whole life, it wasn’t that unusual for them to be gone for a weekend. Normally he would either enjoy the place to himself the entire time, or host a LAN party with his friends that still lived in town. Obviously, either of those options were preferable to studying on someone else’s schedule besides his own. Once it was just the two of them, Vanessa got right to it. “Okay! Let’s go check on the progress you’ve made with your room, and then we can take a look at your classes.” “Umm, sure,” he said. Now he could attempt to set up some dynamic with her where she didn’t feel the need to pressure him to study, let alone do something like clean his bedroom. Thanks to the dress she had on, casual as it was, he felt several underdressed by comparison. “I really can deal with the school stuff myself, by the way. My parents are a bit paranoid about me failing, that’s all.” “Hmm, I guess there’s only one way to find out if I really need to be here or not,” she shrugged. She gestured towards the stairs, “Lead the way. Oh, and is ‘not failing’ really the best goal? I think you could pull a B in every class if you put your mind to it. It might even help to have someone around to keep you on task!” Elliott didn’t dignify that with a response. It was clear what she was getting at, and he was stuck in an equally impossible position of validating her supervision no matter what he did. Procrastinating would prove her point, while starting immediately would be as if it was happening because she told him to. He simply began walking, weighing other options along the way. As they stepped into the room together, Vanessa was once again quick to comment. “There’s still so much to do!” Giving the space a more thorough look, she clasped her hands together. “Okay. Why don’t you keep cleaning, and I’ll take a look at all your school stuff. Teamwork, yeah? Then we can make a plan afterwards.” “Why don’t we just work downstairs? That’s where I usually do my homework, anyway.” A total lie; Elliott was banking on the assumption that his parents wouldn’t have mentioned something like that to Vanessa. He wasn’t necessarily opposed to cleaning his room, though he also didn’t enjoy a nanny telling his young adult self to do so. “You should still have a tidy room,” she insisted, “Trust me, it will put you in a better headspace for studying. Speaking of your bedroom, it kind of smells like boy in here. Have you showered today?” He definitely didn’t see that coming. “Umm, yeah,” he said. Most mornings, as he had class every day. Not always on the weekend, as there were some days he would just be lounging in his room without any plans. “Huh. Well, maybe apply a bit more deodorant, just in case? It also couldn’t hurt to vacuum and do laundry. Don’t worry, I can help with some of that. Your main focus this weekend should be on your studies!” Well, so much for Vanessa treating him like an adult. She was making it sound like he was a teenager, especially in the way she mentioned his hygiene. “Everything’s on the desk,” he reminded her. The sooner she checked out the syllabi for his classes, the sooner they could move past what was turning into an awkward introduction. In the meantime, Elliott picked up where he left off in terms of tidying his room. Mostly since he wasn’t sure what else to do. Since Vanessa was at his normal spot, seated in his gaming chair and getting acquainted with what he needed to know for the upcoming exams, that really only left the bed. Plus his phone was still on the edge of the desk, and he was also trying to balance making a good first impression with not letting her treat him too much like a kid. A few minutes later, she glanced over her shoulder. “Elliott? Deodorant, remember?” Wait, that wasn’t a suggestion? He honestly didn’t know how to respond to something like that. “I already did,” he said. It had to be a joke. He was way too old to need that kind of oversight. “After my shower.” “It can’t hurt to apply a little more,” she said, “You don’t mind, do you?” He frowned slightly in frustration. “I guess not.” It was as if everything she said was a perfectly designed trap, yet always subtle enough that he couldn’t call her out on what she was doing. Such a simple request wasn’t worth arguing over, but being sent to the bathroom as a twenty year old for the sake of hygiene? That, and the fact that an attractive girl was implying that he smelled bad. Or, in her words, ‘like boy.’ Either way, it was tough to avoid feeling self conscious about it, even if he was convinced he had been thorough enough that morning. One perk of being an only child was that he had his own bathroom upstairs, rather than one he would otherwise have to share with a sibling. It only took a minute to head in and do a quick pass with the stick of deodorant. He was tempted to do nothing and see if she noticed, but decided against it. For all he knew, she could be right, though he was still convinced she was just making a bad assumption. More likely, the problem was his full hamper of dirty laundry, or maybe something else. When he returned, Vanessa greeted him with a smile. “Thanks, Elliott. Your room is looking better, too. If it’s not too imposing, I’d be happy to take over while you work. I think I have a general sense of your classes, though I’ll definitely look more in depth at all the ones you’re not currently studying in a few minutes. From what I can tell, Sociology looks like one of the more difficult courses. What’s your grade in that one currently, if I may ask?” Elliott considered lying. That was the thing about his parents hiring someone like Vanessa; she didn’t know anything about his classes or his GPA, nor was she a tutor. It was simply a matter of supervision. “A high C, I think,” he said, only slightly stretching the truth. Last he checked, it was closer to a C- than a C+, which meant it was one of the classes he would be cramming for more than the rest. “Well, then we have some work to do,” she said, “If you ace your exam, you can for sure bump that to a B. Maybe even a B+, based on the grading percentages I’m seeing here. Want to start with Sociology, then?” “Sure,” he replied. It didn’t really matter to him. Anything to remind Vanessa that he was a college student, and she was only here to worry about his studies. “Sounds like a plan,” she nodded, “Okay, get all your things for Sociology and meet me downstairs wherever you like to study. Kitchen? Living room?” Bedroom. Except he was committed to his recent lie. “Living room,” he said. More comfortable. “Got it. I can trust you up here alone for a minute or two, right?” she asked, “I’ll be downstairs.” The moment she turned the corner, Elliott sighed. It was going to be a long weekend. ------------------------ Check out my website: www.ladyluciastories.com And my SubscribeStar: https://subscribestar.adult/lady-lucia

Mary decides to use her diaper in public for the first time. After a lot of reflection i decide to go to the park and i am wearing a skirt and i go into the middle of the park and squat down in front f other people and start to use my diaper in public.

Ally is twenty years old but because of a birth defect she doesn't look any older than a five year old. She wonders the mall looking for a mother figure that will take care of her.

Jennifer jenny for short is 25 years old and she goes to a new community center and sees a new brochure about a new neighborhood that lets adults act as young as they want. She has always had a fascination with diapers and decides to be in them full time now. After making the phone call she packs up her clothes and drive to the neighborhood.

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.

Okay, this is really my first (and thus far, only planned, although I'm Not Saying It's Aliens, but... is rather similar in a way) foray into Diaper Dimension stories, so I'll try to do my best to adhere to the whole thing. Basically, though, I will warn you of this: there is a war in this particular part of the Dimension, and neither country involved has their hands clean. That's the moral of this story: war sucks, every country has their dirty laundry, and nobody's innocent. The focus on Littles is also pretty far away; I'm focusing more on one particular Little and her perspective on the whole thing, and while Littles will appear, I'm not planning on them being the focal parts of the story for story reasons. If any other characters are really focused on perspective-wise (possibly; I have an idea how the story ends, but everything else is a work in progress, and I apologize; bipolar disorder makes it hard to focus on...well, anything, and I wanted to get something done to help with the depression.), it'll likely be the Amazons and Middles who are a part of that war. I will mention that I am not a member of the armed forces and not a marine, so while I'm trying to research the absolute shit out of this, I cannot promise to be perfect. If there is a marine here who wants to correct me, feel absolutely free, and I will apply those corrections to this story whenever possible. Likewise, I cannot give a specific schedule of when Semper Fi gets updated; I have a very busy four weeks ahead, and my mental health is likewise unclear, and that's why I'm updating this at the moment and trying - key word is trying - to get my other stories done, I promise. About critique, feel absolutely free to tell me what I'm doing wrong; in fact, I encourage it with all my heart! I want to publish this under my pseudo penname in books for AR/AB stuff, and in order to publish without mistakes and errors, I absolutely need to know what I've done wrong. If you can't find anything wrong, then tell me what you liked, please! These things make me a better writer. I'm not soft when it comes to critique, and I'll always listen to it. But if you're not scared away by the numerous content warnings I've posted, read on: - Chapter One: Where is my Brother? - Corporal Clover Hope was so desperate to find her missing older brother that she had gone AWOL from the United States Marine Corps, all the way from Camp Lejeune to the last location he had been sighted: Nevada’s Death Valley. First Lieutenant (Marine Corps like her, semper fi!) Graywind Hope, tall and well-built at 6’4”, with his short black hair, his warm gray eyes the color of smoke on the breeze, his tawny skin denoting him (and her) as a member of the Navajo, his normal stoicism belied by the fact that he gave her all of the soft smiles he wouldn’t give anyone else, laughing at all of her bad jokes, and giving her all of the biggest hugs a big brother could ever give a little sister. He had gone missing a month ago, and whenever she brought it up with her superiors in the Marine Corps, they told her that they didn’t have answers, that she’d have to bring it up with the chain of command, who delayed her constantly, without remorse or empathy, every time she tried to go through normal channels. Clover was fucking sick of the chain of command, fucking sick of every noncommittal answer on normal channels. She wanted to see his smile again, hear his voice again, and nothing was worth more than that. She wanted her brother - her only family member with both of their parents dead - back, screw the military, and screw what everyone else thought. She was positioned just outside of the latest sighting, getting as much information as she could from the Nevada natives outside of Death Valley, close to another base that was very much like Area 51, but even more secretive in what they did. The United States military had been testing various things above her paygrade; that she knew, as she took a sip of water from one of her two two-quart-sized plastic flasks she had brought along for the ride. Clover had ditched her uniform a while back, going for a cowboy hat, a tank top, leather gloves, a pair of jeans, and muddy combat boots to go along with her huge backpack, all crudely painted black with a stolen paint can now in the vehicle she stole - being conscious of the environment was the reason she didn’t use spray cans - and stolen from different places; she wanted to spare what little cash she had for necessary things like food, water, and gas for her car. Said backpack was stuffed with her other water flask and an aluminum canteen cup, a case containing her Nintendo Switch OLED model with various games, charger, and a Power Bank for portable charging (to prevent her getting bored), a tactical flashlight (she had left her iPhone at the base so as to avoid being tracked, so she had stolen the flashlight), binoculars (military grade and yes, it was stolen), a bunch of canned and preserved food from a gas station (expensive and not particularly edible, but better than MREs, and she’d make do), a jacket and a beanie for the cold desert night (also stolen), a first aid kit (stolen again), and a military grade sleeping bag (to nobody’s surprise, stolen). Her M18 Modular Handgun System - a pistol based on the SIG Sauer used by the Marines - was holstered on her thigh with two extra magazines on her belt, along with a standard KA-BAR knife stored in a custom made (thanks to Graywind for her most recent birthday, her twenty-second two months ago) waterproof vegetable-tanned cowhide leather sheath, as she peered through the binoculars, her gray eyes cautious. The building had snipers posted on top, and she’d never be able get close to the place unless, maybe, when it turned to night - a massive problem since she was wanted by the Marines, local and federal police, and probably the fucking FBI and CIA at the rate she was going. Clover had dug herself a small hole into the rocky hill using her KA-BAR knife. It had been exhausting work, taking the whole of the day and sweat poured down her tawny skin and black ponytail, but she kept at it, even when bits of sand filled the hole, thinking of nothing more than her brother, safe, back with her, ready to face whatever consequences so she could see him again. When she finished, it was dinnertime: canned hash (basically salty beef and potatoes), canned corn, and canned black beans with a snack of trail mix and a quickly-browning banana. It was what she had been living on in the past three days that she had been AWOL, and she hated it…but it was still better than the military’s Meals Rejected by Everyone. She shuddered, remembering the first time she had tried the chili and macaroni MRE; she had nearly vomited the whole thing up, and it gave her severe constipation, taking for-fucking-ever to shit it out of her system. Good news is that prison food might be a bit better, Clover thought pessimistically as she chewed on the canned hash, drinking a bit more water to go along with it. Then a deep male voice, close, far too close, shouted, “Don’t fucking move!”, and she saw a bunch of red dots line up on her body, with three very tall, fully armored men pointing M27s at her. Bitter tears escaped her eyes. She was close, so fucking CLOSE to finding Graywind, and she had been denied it. “Who are you?” the speaker, a huge man in body armor that had to be at least 6’9”, demanded in a Southern drawl. “Specify the reason why you’re here!” She answered, like she had been drilled into countless times at boot camp, “Sir, Corporal Clover Hope, USMC, Service Number 8839754669, sir!” The speaker paused. “Where did you go to boot camp? What is your MOS? Where were you stationed? And what are the parts of the EGA, and what do they mean?” “Sir, MCRD San Diego, MOS is 0311, stationed at Camp Lejeune, and the parts of the EGA are Eagle, stands for United States, Globe, stands for global service, and Anchor, stands for our naval traditions, sir!” Clover saw the man smirk, could almost see the amusement in his eyes behind his sunglasses. “You expecting a Big Chicken Dinner for going AWOL?” he drawled. “To find my fucking brother, asshole!” she snapped. The man paused for a few moments. “...Semper fi,” he said. “Oorah,” she answered quietly. “Yeah, he was here,” he said, holding his hand up to signal his men to stand down. “Far above your paygrade.” “I don’t give a single shit, or I wouldn’t be here,” Clover growled. “Sir, we don’t have time for this,” the second marine said. “Just put her in the damned brig and be done with it.” “I wonder, though…” the big marine murmured, his finger scratching his blond beard. “Corporal, how much do you know of dimensional travel?” “Sir?” she asked, suddenly confused. “You’re talking aliens?” “Of a sort, yeah.” She got the feeling he wasn’t being entirely honest. “You’re about the right size for…yeah…if it were a Middle, it would be a different story, but you’re about 5’1”, should be enough for…” “Sir, what the fuck are you talking about?” Clover interrupted, completely confused about the reference to her height. Her boob size wasn’t much to brag about either, probably AA cup, maybe A at the absolute most, but she almost preferred it: the less staring and catcalls from the men, the better. “Take these.” The big marine handed her an earpiece (which, while she was confused about it, didn’t hesitate to put it in her left ear) and an odd gray device, circular in circumference and the size of her palm. “You’re going to want to get rid of your weapons - every weapon - and grab your backpack before you click the bottom button.” “I’m not relieving my weapons,” Clover said stubbornly, as she palmed the device. “Your funeral,” the big marine said with a shrug. “You come in with weapons, and the Amazons won’t be very fucking happy, but you asked for it; we’ve got plenty more where you come from.” She looked at the big marine like he was crazy. “Amazons? The fuck kind of aliens are those? Do they do deliveries and shit, too?” “Remind me to laugh at your shitty jokes if you ever get back,” the second marine growled, and she could almost hear his eyeroll. “Sir, you’re not seriously-” the third marine began before the big marine cut him off, saying, “Every Middle classification, including her brother, has disappeared without a trace, has immediately been cut off from radio contact. We’re not part of their world, so we can’t be Amazons. There’s only one classification left we haven’t tried, and we haven’t tried a woman yet.” “Littles!” the second marine spat. “She’d be useless to them!” “And she doesn’t know shit about this! Why not try someone else on base; hell, anyone else?!” the third marine snapped. “She has a personal stake in this. Motivation enough to risk a prison sentence.” The big marine sighed as Clover quickly devoured her meal, not even bothering to clear off the remnants of food from her face before she packed up her sleeping bag in her backpack. “Sometimes, that’s what the greatest of us lack: motivation and a reason worth fighting for.” Clover hefted her backpack over her shoulders and clicked the button on the bottom of the gray device, which lit up bright silver in the desert, whirling in her palm, burning as miniature tendrils attached themselves to her hand. She felt every fiber of her body react, her blood, sinew, and bones almost boiling like a bad morphine overdose. She wanted to scream, but it quickly died in her throat. The device emitted an ear-piercing shriek, and she may have as well before everything went black. - Hope y'all enjoyed~

Lisa is 14 years old and has a secret diaper fetish and decides to tell her parents that she wishes to become a teenage baby.

Lucy is 30 years old and is the head of a bank. She never had an easy childhood and has decided to go to regression therapy in hopes that she can have better memories. The therapist suggests couple that will help her along.

Jenny is a high powered attorney who just needs time to relax. So she decides to post a ad online offering her services to become a baby to help he relax.

Jill woke up refreshed. She felt good until she checked her diaper. It was soaked. This made seven nights in a row. She looked at her calendar. She only dry three times in a whole month. She put herself back into nighttime diapers at the start of the month and things didn't look good. She wrote down "Wet" to end the month. She got her phone out and opened the Dress App. She set the settings to what she would wear.Mary had told her what she needed to wear. The diaper was replaced with heavy duty Pull-Ups. She wished it was normal underwear but it was better than diapers. A skirt, just below the knees, with Hello Kitty on it came next. The padded bra was next. Just big enough so it look like she did have something. Over that was a Hello Kitty Peter Pan collar shirt. All looked cute but still more like an adult. She got a text from Mary. "Are you up?' "Yes," "Were you dry?" "No," "Are you dressed properly?" "Yes," "Your ride should be there in thirty minutes. There will be a Starbucks pickup for you." "Thanks," She was out and ready for the Uber lift. They stopped at Starbucks for her Pumpkin Chi tea lattie, Venti Size with a snack. She was half done by the time she got to the golf course. Mary was there waiting with both set of golf clubs. They did warms ups while waiting for their tee times. Mary said, "Can you keep under five accidents this time and avoid Pull-Ups for a week?" Jill said, "I hope to avoid any accidents. Maybe get you to have a few accidents." "In your dreams." They got their ear buds in and phones linked to they can talk even if far apart. When their names were called they went to the started. The started confirmed their start time. "No one is in front of you. Your daughter and you should have no one to wake for. What grade is she in, sixth or seventh?" Jill wanted to say that she was twenty years old but Mary wouldn't allow her to say that. "She's twelve but she's only in the fifth grade. She has been held back." They got to the first tee. "Why did you tell him that?" "Makes me feel young to have daughter that's only in elementary school." "I'm not your daughter." "Details. This only role playing for fun." The first hole was a par five. Jill went first. Her first shot was straight for a hundred yards. A good begining. Mary's shot was just to left in rough, about ninety yards. As they head to their balls, Mary asked, "How many dry nights have had this month?" "Just three." "Send me a log." Jill sent it. The log not only had have often but how much she wet. Her phone kept track as well as physical calendar she kept. Mary got to her ball. This time she was on the fairway. Jill's was further and also on the fairway. "These don't look good. Not only are you a frequent wetter but heavy wetter as well. You need to add a night-time bottle and sleep with a dollie." Jill didn't like that. It would make her accidents even worse. She knew what would happen if she started to leak. Three more strokes and Jill was on the green. Mary was just off. "I don't want to have to switch to cloth diaper or double diapering." Mary smiled. ''Well, then don't leak." Mary chipped on within a foot. Jill have a ten foot putt. She needed this to win the hold. At first it looked like it would miss on the left but then broke and went in Jill had won the first hole. She just needed two more so could use the toilet. And with luck Mary would have an accident. Jill said, "I'm one up." This was good start.

Hello everyone! Long time lurker but never poster. I've mostly written D&D campaigns, but after reading so many of Elfy's stories I wanted to try my hand at one myself. English is not my first language so I hope it's not too bad. Title might be a work in progress. I have more chapters planned out but I'd like to see the reception and perhaps get some feedback if possible. Thank you! I'll also provide i link to a google docs if the formatting doesn't work. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1SJRsBUVRJ00wRmzUBwhbcWuyhfvAulQgp_spXFbMGto/edit?usp=sharing Disclaimer: This story explores darker themes (see tags) that may feel unsettling. Please read at your own discretion. A Dependent Model Alicia Eriksson wasn’t your average 19-year old. She stopped measuring up to her peers several years ago…in height, anyway. Standing only about 3 feet 1 inch tall and weighing roughly 30 pounds created many vertical challenges in her life. It didn’t help that her natural, curly brown hair that gently brushed her shoulders gave her a very youthful look. She had to assert herself against many concerned mothers who tried — with good intentions — to help her out. They often thought she was a lost child while shopping in the supermarket or taking a stroll in the park. Sitting in said park Alicia scrolled through the jobsection of the local newspaper app. Across her sat the local playground, some trees, bushes and a flickering billboard that never seemed to get fixed. Alicia had tried several times to find a job. Her mother felt uncomfortable sending her to college since she believed Alicia didn’t always ‘think things through’. When she got a job, Alicia tried very hard to keep it, but her short stature proved a worthy adversary everytime, and she was fired. She tried waitressing; but constantly had to watch out or to be bumped into, which happened; a lot. She abhorred selling tickets at the cinema as people either ridiculed her or thought she was someone’s kid playing pretend. Data entering…well that was just boring really, but still! “Come on,” she said to herself with slight frustration, “Somewhere there’s bound to be a job for me. Where I don’t need to struggle all the time.” Her eyes then landed on a particular section of the app. “Huh, ‘Stars Modeling Agency now searching for new talents. Please apply by this afternoon’,” she read out loud. She pondered for a bit. “I guess it’s something I haven’t tried yet, but would they have clothes my size?” Scrunching up her face, she decided, “Well I can at the very least try. What’s the worst that could happen? Hmm, I should get there quickly before applications close.” Happy with her decision Alicia signed up for an interview on their website, wrote down the details of the place, and put them on her phone’s map. “Oh, it’s a bit across town, but closer than expected. I should be able to walk from the house and get there in 15 minutes or so. Alright, let’s get this bread!” Alicia confidently started to walk towards the Modeling Agency. Making her way across town, passing the cinema, an ice cream parlor and several houses on the way. In a small alleyway she could read out the starry sign of the agency. Inside she spotted a waiting room which was painted pastel blue, a counter with a receptionist and two other - what Alicia thought- prospective models. “Huh, weird that they are both here with their kids,” she remarked as she saw two toddlers playing with some dolls in a corner, but she didn’t pay any other attention to them. Alicia went up to the receptionist, a middle-aged woman wearing a cream-coloured cardigan. “Excuse me,” Alica said. The receptionist looked around for a bit before settling her eyes down on the diminutive woman. “I’m here for an interview with,” Alicia looked at her phone, “Sofia Juarez?” She looked at Alicia quizzically. “Hi sweetie, are you here with your mo-” “I’m here by myself, ma’am,” Alicia interrupted already knowing where the lady was going with her questions. “Here’s my ID card, I’d like to speak with Mrs. Juarez if I may?” The receptionist took Alicia’s ID and looked it over. “Well, certainly, Ms. Eriksson. Please have a seat in the meanwhile.” The woman gave Alicia back her card with an amused look on her face, but Alicia didn’t care for the woman’s expressions. Alicia grabbed a seat and started looking through her phone in the meanwhile not noticing the odd looks the other two women in the waiting room were giving her. After waiting an hour for her turn she was called into the office where Sofia Juarez was sitting. She wore business casual attire and had long raven-like hair sitting tightly in a ponytail in the back. “Ms. Eriksson?” she said with a professional tone when Alicia entered. “That’s me Mrs. Juarez. Thank you for taking your time seeing me,” Alicia said. The latina woman looked at Alicia with interest on her face. “It’s just miss for me as well. Please have seat, Ms. Eriksson, pardon if it’s not adjustable.” “I can manage it. Thank you,” Alica assured her and climbed up on the chair. “So, Ms. Eriksson,” Ms. Juarez began, “ have you ever modeled before?” “Honestly, no I have not. To be perfectly frank I’m quite jobstarved at the moment and I’m looking for any kind of opportunity I can get,” Alicia said believing that honesty would be her best bet. “I see, thank you for your candidness, Ms. Eriksson,” Ms. Juarez said and wrote some things in a document, “well we all have to start somewhere.” Alicia smiled, maybe she had a chance? “I assure you, ma’am that I’m a quick learner and even though I’m short I’ll try working really hard.” “Oh your height is of no issue, dear,” Ms. Juarez replied. “So you do carry clothes in my size? That’s very forward thinking, Ms. Juarez.” Alicia couldn’t believe the good news. “Oh yes of course. Don’t worry we have a large sortment of clothes for a woman of your stature. Now a few more questions before we conclude this interview.” Ms. Juarez proceeded to ask Alicia general questions, whether she grew up in town, where she sees herself in a few years etc. Alica answered all of Ms. Juarez’s questions to the best of her ability and looked on nervously as she looked over her clipboard, hoping her lack of experience wouldn’t be an issue. “Well Ms. Eriksson,” Ms. Juarez began, “I think Stars Agency have found their new talent.” “Really?” Alicia beamed. “Oh thank you, ma’am. I promise I won’t let you down.” The latina handed over a contract that Alicia was more than eager to sign without looking too closely at its contents. “I’m sure you will be an excellent addition to our little family, Ms. Eriksson.” “You can just call me Alicia, ma’am,” Alicia said beaming with energy. “Oh, then I insist you call me Sofia. ‘Ma’am’ makes me feel old," she said. Alica took a brief look at Sofia who appeared to be in her late 20s. “Of course, thank you for this opportunity, Sofia.” “You’re welcome, sweetie,” Sofia said with a genuine smile. The ‘sweetie’ comment didn’t even register in Alicia’s mind as she was too busy writing down her details in the contract. “So when should I start?” Alicia said eagerly. “Can you come in tomorrow Friday already? Our photographer Michelle will be available in the afternoon around three o'clock and I could give you some pointers and assist with clothing if necessary? There won’t be any other models in at that time so we could take some time for you to learn the ropes.” Alicia thought it seemed a little odd that the hiring manager would help with clothing, but maybe Sofia was a ‘hands-on’ type of person. Yet that thought did nothing to damper her mood. “Tomorrow afternoon three o'clock, I will be there!” Alica said, hopping off the chair. “Excellent, well Alicia I will see you then. And again, welcome to the family.” Alicia felt like she traveled on air while going back home. Even an inexperienced model could earn a lot in comparison to other professions at the current job market and she couldn’t wait to earn some money to increase her independency. I mean it’s not like living with mom is a bad thing, but a girl gotta spread her wings, right? She thought to herself as she passed the trees in the park with the flimmering billboard acting up as usual. Alicia paused for a bit to take in the nice summer’s breeze. “From here on out my life is going to change,” she said before continuing back to her house.

“Ossccaarrrr,” Mommy's gentle voice called out from the driver seat of the car, but Oscar didn't hear her. His mind was too occupied, too focused on the variety of stimuli sources at his disposal as his mouth remained eagerly fixated on his favorite binky. His hands gently caressed the soft, plush fur of his oversized Teddy who he held gently in his arms as he watched some Youtube on the iPad that hung from the seat in front of him. His oversized, adult car seat provided ample comfort, holding his nearly empty sippy cup in one of its cupholders, as well as a scattered variety fidget toys at his disposal in its various remaining pockets. The heavily tinted windows, and addition of a screen to block out the sun, gave him all the peace of mind he needed to ensure that no one could see in, ultimately creating one of his favorite spots to indulge in himself. “Oscar, sweetie,” Her voice called out again, this time nearly catching his attention as he gently pushed his Teddy into the soft cotton padding of his training pants continuously. “Oscar, baby!” She finally called out, much louder as he reached up to pause his video. “‘es Mommy?” He asked from behind his pacifier, further pushing his Teddy against his privates before refocusing his attention on grabbing his sippy cup. “We're almost home baby, can you help Mommy by getting your pants on?” He let the pacifier fall from his mouth and into his lap, lifting the remaining contents of the sippy cup to his mouth as he nodded, using his free hand to reach for the sweat pants he'd tossed to the side. Long car rides had become a norm for them, of which Oscar almost always removed his pants. Oftentimes he’d even remove his shirt as he enjoyed the feeling of being free, keeping just his training pants on as he'd let himself unwind. Their small town certainly had the essentials, but Mommy often liked to go on bigger shopping trips, or spend time in the suburbs that offered much more exciting things to do. But Oscar never minded. “Thank you, sweetie,” She said in her baby voice, watching him from the rear view as he placed the pacifier back in his mouth before starting to pull his feet through the leg holes of his sweatpants. “Mommy was thinking of inviting Mr. Addison over tonight too,” She asked, a slight tinge of hesitation in her voice as she turned down the main street into their neighborhood. “Is that okay?” Oscar nodded, having already expected as much as he’d been spending more and more time with him and Mommy. Mr. Addison had lived just down the street and divorced several years back. He'd hit it off with Mommy not long after and embraced their unique lifestyle, a plus for Mommy that helped to immensely balance out the give and take aspect of their relationship which Oscar had admittedly taken advantage of early on. “I was thinking he might even spend the weekend?” She asked hopefully, looking back at Oscar through the rear view as he non discretely started to rub against his Teddy again. “Okay, Mommy,” He said, pulling his iPad off the back of the seat as he tried to help gather a few of his things as she pulled into the driveway. “You got everything?” Mommy asked, turning back in the seat to look at him. “Uhh- no, heh,” He said, struggling to get everything into his arms having yet to even unbuckle himself. “Here,” She said, holding out her purse as she held it open. “Dump your toys and stuff in here,” Oscar did as he was told, putting his smaller items in her purse leaving him with just his Teddy and iPad as he undid the buckle. “Take those inside, but then come help Mommy with the groceries,” She said, hitting the button to open his door. Oscar scrambled out of his seat, lugging his oversized Teddy with him as he quickly made his way inside the house to drop them off, quickly followed by Mommy and her radiant smile. “Teddy will be just fine on his own for a few minutes,” She teased as Oscar hesitantly set him down. He smiled, giving a light jog back towards the car as he scooped up as any bags on his arms as he could carry before stumbling back to the house. “Wow,” Mommy cooed. “Such a strong boy for Mommy!” He smiled, beaming with pride as he set the bags on the counter, completely caught off guard as Mr. Addison entered through the door behind them. “Guess whos here!” He called out. “Ah! Hey Hun!” She said, running to his side to greet him with a big kiss. “Hi, Daddy,” Oscar said with a smile of his own, a name he'd only started calling Mr. Addison in the past few weeks. “Did you have a fun trip?” He asked in a childish voice, coming over to give Oscar a big hug. Oscar nodded, embracing the hug as Mr. Addison gave him a tight squeeze before Oscar let go and quickling returned to his Teddy’s side. “I gotta poddy,” Oscar said, a little red in the face as he retrieved his binky. “Yea? Do you want to use the big boy potty?” Mr. Addison asked in a coddling voice, reaching for Oscar's hand as he held his Teddy in the other. Oscar shook his head. “Alright, buddy. You wait right here,” Mr. Addison said, giving a playful head shake to Mommy as Oscar twirled back and forth. “What do you want for dinner, sweetie?” Mommy asked from the kitchen, putting the last of the bags away as she opened the freezer. “Mommy and Daddy are gonna catch a movie tonight, so it's going to be an early bedtime for you,” “Wha’!” Oscar pouted, looking towards his Mommy. “I know, sweetie. That's why you get to have whatever you want for dinner,” She said. A smile slipped through Oscar's face, knowing he'd always ask for his usual but still liked that she’d ask anyways. “Alright, buddy,” Mr. Addison said, returning with a training potty that he set in the middle of the room. “But no Teddy during potty time,” He said, holding out his hand. “Bu’,” Oscar started to protest. “Nuh uh, you know the rules,” Mr Addison quickly shot back, still holding out his hand. “What are they?” “No ‘oys on da poddy,” Oscar responded quietly, reluctantly giving up his Teddy before pulling his pants down and off as he tossed them to the side before doing the same with his shirt. “Except for that cute little binky,” Daddy said, giving his nose a playful wiggle as he smiled. “Also, what is it with his hate for clothes?” Mr. Addison asked teasingly. “Do you want your usual, baby?” Mommy asked, already pulling the dino nuggets out of the freezer before reaching for a box of Mac and cheese. “Yes, pwease!” Oscar shouted, dropping his training pants as he sat on his toilet, his nicely groomed privates on display for both Mommy and Daddy. “Mr. Teddy will be right here when you're done,” Mr. Addison said, gently resting his Teddy on one of the bar stools facing Oscar. “Dank you, Daddy,” Oscar said, his bladder releasing into the training toilet as the audible stream echoed through the room. “Shouldn't you feed him something a little healthier?” Mr. Addison teased, wrapping his arms around Mommy from behind as she arranged the dino nuggets on a baking tray. “Well the day you want to tell him he has to eat his vegetables and go to bed early is the day we can start that,” She said, turning around as they started to kiss. Oscar watched from across the room as Mr. Addison quickly made a romantic moment out of thin air, something he'd always struggled to do. Though something he was good at was ruining it as he let a loud fart loose, echoing in his potty as the squelching sound of his primary business flooded the room as he made his poopies in the potty. “Still happy he calls you Daddy?” Mommy asked with a smirk, watching him realize the source of the sound. “Trade you potty duty for bedtime duty,” He smirked, knowing his odds were slim. “Not a chance,” She said, bopping him on the nose before turning to slide the nuggets into the oven. “There's some wipes in my purse,” “Alright, bud. Ready to wipe?” Mr. Addison asked, opening up the pack of baby wipes as he held them out for Oscar to reach. Oscar grabbed one, running the cool wipe across his butt before dropping it into the potty. “Oh no, get in there, Mr,” Mommy called from across the room. “Last time you left the wiping to him he had a big old skid mark on his undies,” “The boys gotta learn,” He teased. “Then show him how,” Mommy retorted. He reluctantly grabbed another wipe, tracing it down Oscar's crack, giving a good few circles around Oscar's laxed hole as he playfully teased him before a second pass. Mr. Addison had certainly entered their lives for Mommy, but had taken an unexpected interest in Oscar after a few months of the relationship. Though Oscar was certainly his second choice, usually only paying special attention to him when Mommy wasn't in the mood or was on her period. “Danks, Daddy,” Oscar said cutely, willing to make Mr. Addison's simple fantasies of oral come true, though they had pushed thei relationship a little further in recent months. He quickly got up, pulling his dino training pants back up as he ran to his Teddy, grabbing him off the bar stool before running towards the stairs. “Dinners in 15!” Mommy called out as his butt disappeared up the stairs. She shook her head, always in disbelief with how much energy he managed to retain throughout the day as she looked at Mr. Addison with a smile. “What time’s our reservation?” “6:30,” Mr. Addison said, returning to her side as he kissed her on the neck. “Wow, we're really giving him an early bedtime,” Mommy chuckled, embracing his further advancing kisses as he worked his way down her neck. “Good thing I'm not on the bedtime routine,” Mr. Addison teased as the oven's timer went off. “Speaking of your duties,” She joked, turning around to give him a peck on the lips before gesturing towards the potty. Oscar remained upstairs, a space that had been almost entirely transformed into his. The two bedrooms upstairs exited into a den or sorts, which had been stocked with a TV and various game consoles on top of a large media cabinet that housed his bins of toys. Two large bean bags sat propped on the floor next to his Lego table where a massive city project grew bigger by the month. His bedroom resembled that of a toddlers, the light blue walls decorated with a series of clouds and rolling hills. His twin sized bed had rails on all sides, not tall enough to trap any actual adult but tall enough to help sell the illusion as piles of stuffed animals and loose toy cars covered the ground. Colorful art prints of cute animals covered the walls with the occasional drawing or two of his that Mommy insisted on hanging on his walls as a way to further embarrass him. A small shelf in the corner contained a loose stack of diapers, of which he'd been able to avoid for months now. The second room on the other hand was still mostly just storage, the junk room in the house where things without a place wound up as Oscar tried to dream up the perfect use for the space. “Oscar!” Mommy called up the stairs as he sat in one of the beanbags, his attention fully focused on his game he'd been watching videos on the whole car ride home, his pacifier very much in place as his Teddy provided a place to rest his hands. “Oscar! Dinner!” Mr. Addison shouted, catching Oscars attention as he paused his game, picking up his Teddy as he ran back down the stairs. “I'll take that,” Mr. Addison said, quickly taking the loosely held Teddy as Oscar jumped up into his seat. “Uhuh- hold on buddy,” Mommy said, pulling the plastic plate with small dividers to separate his nuggets, Mac and cheese and BBQ dipping sauce. “Where's your shirt?” “Uh- I don't know,” He said, pulling his pacifier out as he set it on the counter giving a half hearted attempt to look around. She sighed, smiling as she opened one of the drawers to pull out one of his baby bibs. “I don't need that!” He protested. “Yes, you do,” She insisted, circling the island to secure it around his neck. “We're not gonna have time for a bath tonight so I can't have you making yourself all sticky!” He pouted, leaning over the counter to grab his plate as he pulled it closer. “What do you want to drink, sweetie?” Mommy asked, grabbing a sippy cup from the cabinet as she opened the fridge. “Milkies, pwease,” He said, diving one of his nuggets into the BBQ sauce as he devoured it. “What movie are you guys seeing?” “I’m not sure,” Mommy said. “Daddy said it's a surprise,” Mr. Addison gave her a playful wink, holding Oscar’s Teddy over the counter, playfully rubbing his crotch against it from behind to signal his plans for Mommy. “Oh stop it,” She said flustered, sliding the sippy cup of milk to Oscar who shared a smile, knowing that his plans were very much the same for his Teddy. He scarfed down his food as they made their way in and out of the master bedroom in their attempt to get ready. “All done!” Oscar announced, getting up to grab his Teddy. “Good job, sweetie,” Mommy said. “Can you brush your teeth for Mommy?” “I haven't finished my milk,” He said, gesturing towards the still mostly full sippy cup. “That's fine, sweetie. You can take it upstairs with you,” She said. “Come brush your teeth in Mommys bathroom,” Oscar scuttled after her, passing Mr. Addison who was busy tying his tie, his nicely fit suit catching Oscar’s attention as he passed. “Think you can handle it from here?” Mommy asked as Oscar reached for his toothbrush on the counter. “Mhmm,” He said proudly, opening the drawer to pull out his childish toothpaste as he squeezed a generous amount onto the head of the brush. He quickly brushed, listening to Mommy and Daddy’s slight giggles in the room as he waited for the built in timer on his electric toothbrush to turn off, signaling he’d done enough. “Almost done, bud?” Mr. Addison asked, suddenly appearing in his full suit as Oscar found himself in slight awe. “Uhh-” He let out, feeling as though the timer should have been up as he clicked the brush off himself, spitting into the sink as he turned the water on. “Uh huh,” Mr. Addison smirked, ruffling his hair as Oscar leaned over the sink to wash his mouth out. “I’ll let that slide this time,” He chuckled. “Are you ready for bed then?” Oscar nodded, wiping his mouth as he looked back at Mr. Addison, feeling a sense of emotion that usually only Mommy had triggered. He’d never been explicitly gay or bi in any way, though he’d realized he wasn’t straight early on, just never bothered to put a label on exactly what it was. “Right,” Mommy said, stepping into the bathroom as Oscar stared dumbfoundingly at Daddy. “Just got to put this one-” She stopped, looking at Daddy who couldn’t help but puff out his chest as she smiled. “This one to bed,” She continued, her smile growing as she reached for Oscar’s hand. Oscar complied, following after Mommy as he turned to look back at Daddy as they darted around the corner, quickly making their way up to his bedroom. She pulled the covers over him, tightly tucking him in though she knew he’d quickly throw the sheets all about. “I love you, sweetie,” She said softly, leaning in to give him a kiss on the forehead. “I love you,” Oscar said clutching his Teddy tightly. She smiled, getting up as she dimmed the lights to his room, exposing the glowing stars on the ceiling as she gently closed the door. Oscar tossed about, loosening the covers as he reached for his iPad on the nightstand, propping it against a pillow as he opened up Youtube and settled in. The time passed quickly, eventually striking 8pm as his iPad went black, returning to the lockscreen as the parental controls set in indicating his usual bedtime. He tossed the iPad to the side, its durable case taking the brunt of it as it tumbled to the floor, though not his intent. Admittedly, he enjoyed nights with an early bedtime more and more as they were Mommy and Daddy's way of turning a blind eye, letting him play with himself and explore his own interests further without any repercussions. He rolled over, readjusting his Teddy as he began to rub his pee pee with his free hand, running small circles from the outside his soft cotton training pants, quickly replacing it with that of his Teddy’s. He slipped the soft, plush arm deeper inside his panties as he rubbed his stiffening member knowing that he'd be fast asleep in a pair of crusty training pants in no time. Did you enjoy the story? Consider supporting my work over on SubscribeStar! Or be sure to let me know what you thought by interacting with the post!

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