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  1. Hey everyone! Welcome to Academy II, the final installment of Academy Works. The title is unlike previous installments, using a roman numeral instead of a letter. This is a play off Academy I, the first in the series, but it also has a few other meanings. You will quickly find that A2 is very different to the other stories! If you haven't read any Academy Works stories, there are six others in this universe. They are as follows: Academy I (Part 1), Academy B (Part 2), Academy T (Part 3), Academy K (Part 4), Academy A (Part 5), and Academy M (Part 6). Since this is the final book in the series, reading all of the previous ones will help you understand what's going on. I strongly encourage it. But if you want to jump right in on this one, I think you'll still have a good time. Thanks to all my readers and fans over the past few years. I hope this conclusion is everything you wanted it to be. You can support my work at this Patreon link, or this SubscribeStar link. ~Mia~ --------------------------------- Academy II will operate a bit differently than previous stories. Updates will be multiple chapters at once, with a bit of a twist. Please be patient and thoughtful with this new format. ❤️ Take it away, Soph. ---------------------------------
  2. [It is already implied in the story, but for explicit clarity all characters herein are adults over 21 years of age.] [EDIT: This is just to give potential new readers an idea of what to expect. This story presents a variety of (primarily ABDL) themes, and more keep appearing as it gets longer, but infantilism is a reoccurring one, as is sexual tension between the characters and peeing/pooping diapers. If that combination turns you off, probably not a good fit. Otherwise, and especially if you enjoy a variety of themes and situations rather than a story that focuses on just one, I hope you'll give it a try. There IS a proper story here too, I promise, and actual character development, but it's taking me a few chapters to really get it going. I need to go back and edit the first chapters for stylistic and voice consistency, but I haven't gotten there yet. But problems aside, I hope you'll enjoy my humble first attempt at writing for others to see:] [EDITED FROM THE ORIGINAL POST: UPDATED TO SECOND DRAFT] The Wild North CHAPTER ONE (MACADAMIA) Only frozen foothills lay behind. Only towering rock and a fool's death lay ahead. This was a barren, sharply-sloping land of white. It was broken, only occasionally, by harsh black stone upthrusts. Plants did not grow here. It was not a place for life and living things. It was a land of sleeping giants and the black wings of carrion eaters soaring across the muted gray heavens. A giant hand of unforgiving granite blocked the entire horizon in the distance ahead, thrusting up towards the heavens with a sheer vertical face that might have been carved by the gods themselves, and for the specific purpose of thwarting the curious, and crushing the spirits of the brave. Yet in between what came before and what stood ahead were two curious figures, tiny by comparison and huddled against the blowing wind beneath an overhang of rock. Both were wearing light, draping furs over tunics, with thick wool covering their legs and vanishing beneath the lower folds of their tunics. A young woman, her posture bold and unbent, stared forward from beneath the meager shelter, her gaze sizing up the mountains before them as if judging an upstart adversary rather than a force of nature, her unrestrained shoulder-length dark hair dancing freely in the breeze. Behind her, huddling bent against the rock wall as if to become a part of it, a young man with short-cropped sandy hair followed. Macadamia, the young woman was called back home, for she was hard -it was said- like the nut. No one would ever see the woman beneath the shell, they would whisper. She had never been bothered by it. She even embraced the nickname, and no longer went by any other. She was not antisocial exactly, for she saw no value in unkindness, and she was free enough with smiles and a kind greetings, it was simply that people had never been one of her interests. She spent years, long after passing the age of adulthood, gobbling up every story she had come across, written or oral. She worked her family’s farm during the day, but spent zero time courting a suitor, or other such things that were expected of a woman her age. It had earned her the enmity of more than one man who, having spent years admiring her somewhat petite but athletic figure develop into the curves of womanhood, had no-doubt looked forward with longing for the day they might win her heart. Occasionally a man would still try. “I want to love you forever,” a handsome young man had once said to her. “We’ll… raise sheep and be happy!” She only smiled at the clumsy but well-meaning attempt. “No one should live forever,” she had replied quite matter-of-factly. A couple of women had tried as well, hoping her reasons for rejecting men was the one they wanted. Unfortunately for them all, any such feelings rode in the back of the wagon while she steered her life elsewhere, towards fantasies and books, far away places and mysteries unsolved. Each time she found a trader with a new book it was all she cared about until it was read, and read again, only to be forgotten by the next one that came along. She followed her whimsy like the northern star. There was another reason as well. She knew that few would truly want her once they knew everything about her, and she felt no need to invite stories to spread. Against all odds she did one day find a man around whom she wanted to spend time. He too had passed into adulthood but refused to play the game. With his body more graceful than muscular, and his golden skin smooth rather than worn, he was handsome to be sure - but not in the way that so many women wanted. He had no accomplishments about which to boast, would never emerge victorious in a contest of strength, had no interest in winning fame through tournaments or distant wars, and was a stalwart recluse. What interest women might show went unrequited. He was quiet and shy and had -to the best of everyone's knowledge- never actually started a conversation other than to ask a necessary question or make a purchase at the market. Yet one day he had done the unthinkable – and with Macadamia of all people. It seemed they shared an interest in history and lore, and after overhearing one of her inquiries to a book dealer he had approached her with open, unprovoked questions. The two talked, and were friends thereafter. It was only later that she discovered the poor man's father was a monster. Though seldom home, he had taken to beating his family when he was. When the father was home the son was never seen. Macadamia had met the family’s matriarch but felt only sadness for the woman with the empty eyes and forced smiles. The town frowned on the whole unhappy business, but their disapproval meant nothing to the brute of a father. Not the inflated prices from the merchants, not the cold looks or quiet stares, could draw a reaction from him. No one dared challenge him openly; the man was a mountain on two legs - so unlike his son in every way. In fact, many rumors had spread over the years about alternate leanages for the boy. Some were as fanciful and ludicrous as an affair with a visiting prince in disguise. To Macadamia he seemed nothing more, or less, than an ordinary young man who had secrets, and she understood perfectly well having secrets. She did not fancy him out of pity, but for his mind and -if she was being honest- perhaps his sculpted body just a bit as well. When she finally embarked on a worthy adventure, she knew she could not leave him behind. Not to go from day to day hiding his bruises, ever sinking into sadness in a world that did not appreciate him. Not while she was alive. His name was Elm. It was not a nickname, his mother had simply found elm trees beautiful. The irony of naming a boy 'Elm' amidst the bows of deep, green, fir-covered evergreen forests was apparently lost on the woman. Or perhaps her mind simply took comfort in imagining places far away. Macadamia and Elm had spent many nights gazing at maps and books, scribbling by candlelight and sharing ideas, to the point that rumors had spread about Macadamia taking a man after all, but refusing to claim him. The truth would have bored them all to tears. The two met for only a couple hours here and there, usually in a neutral but private setting, and frequently as the sun was waning and the affairs of the day were done. They studied obscure legends. One in particular stuck and became a lasting shared interest: a legend of a gateway, strangely persistent in its retelling across spans of history. It purported to be a path to a land without sorrow. One without poverty or hunger or hardship. A land of eternal summer. The two talked of books, shared research, did absolutely nothing romantic or sordid as the townsfolk imagined, and then went home. Until the day they did not. It was dawn when they looked back on home for the last time. They turned their gazes to the horizon as the orange rays of the morning sun kissed the dew with gentle hews. The market was closed that day. They were alone as they sat before their maps, spread out on one of the old wooden tables. The dew made its surface slick, shiny, and cold but neither took notice. They had finally uncovered what they believed to be the path to the fabled gateway, their breath coming out in puffs amidst the cool morning air, their voices hushed but excited. They considered provisions with glances and short yeses and nos. They had never properly agreed to go at all, it simply happened that they both fell silent, having said their peace, met each other’s eyes, packed up their things, and walked away. She wondered if their respective families would ever come looking for them, though she doubted it. Such sudden departures were not unheard-of. Sometimes lovers would run away, or those unhappy with the harsh northern life would spend their meager coin to leave on a trader’s cart. Sometimes entire families would have a bad harvest or lose their animals to disease and hardship, then pick up and leave one day without a word. Guilt nagged at her thoughts, for she held no resentment towards her family and knew they would worry about her, but she pushed it aside. If all went well they would return with stories of their own to tell, and discoveries that would open doors for them far away from their home of gossipers and dark secrets. There would be plenty of time for apologies then, after the worthiness of their quest could not be denied. They would be scholars, she would think whimsically, a soft smile warming her features. They could write books of their own. In her wildest moments of fancy, she wondered if they should return at all. What if there really could be such a land, and they could live there? They both knew the quest would not be an easy one. Not even leaving in the early spring as they were. Not even if their most optimistic theories were correct. It would be a long, hard journey. They had agreed. Somehow that knowledge failed to alleviate her aches and pains. It seemed that facts would forever fail to prepare her for experience. The ground had gotten steadily steeper as they neared the great cliffs. Although the snow had relented, a spiteful wind tapped the existing drifts and blew the weaponized ice crystals into her eyes like coarse sand. Their clothing had proven thoroughly inadequate for the pernicious winter weather. Apparently no one had informed the mountains that it was now spring. At least the exercise of lugging her heavy pack up the slopes kept the cold from causing more than discomfort. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Elm was still standing, then frowned; he looked likely to fall over at any moment. Concern gripped her heart and she pulled him further into the meager shelter of their shallow cave. "Elm," she chided gently after worming her way out of her pack’s clingy straps, "why didn't you say something? Here-" She dug out the thick fur she had brought along for sleeping and tossed it around his shoulders, then kneeled, and pulled him down to her until he was sitting on her lap. "We'll wait here until the wind calms," she assured him, rubbing his arms briskly. Would the wind calm? Who knew, but it seemed best not to voice that worry. Nor the other worries creeping up from the shadows of her mind, such as the one that said this whole plan might have been a tad misguided. Especially not that one. He nodded. "I'm fine," he insisted despite his tacit agreement to delay. "I won't hold you back." "I know you won't." She kept to her most reassuring tone, then said nothing as he pushed himself more closely to her, his bottom now resting firmly on her thighs as they both pulled the blanket as tightly around them as it would go. Her taller frame accommodated the posture, as if their bodies were meant to fit together, with his head coming to rest comfortably on her left shoulder. She could feel the warmth of his body, so close now, and realized she had never been this close to a man. This wasn't how she imagined it. The story books left out the part where the prince and princess were more interested in not freezing to death than dancing with endearing chipmunks and getting lost in each other's eyes. Even so, she felt as if the heat of her own body had grown just a bit too. Just two bodies close together in a warm blanket, she decided firmly, nothing more. His shivering began to subside and she felt a wash of relief, which then turned to surprise as he started... snoring? He had fallen asleep in her arms. Clearly the journey was taking a great toll on him. She mentally shrugged and let him sleep; there didn’t seem to be any harm in taking a couple of hours to nap. It had not been nearly that long when a new sensation kindled her surprise - a sudden, intense heat was spreading out across her thighs. Her heart fluttered in a brief panic. Had she..? Surreptitiously as she could manage, she tilted her head and looked down, but his round, innocent eyes were still closed in slumber. Her left arm was underneath the furs, and she nervously used it to explore. In the northern lands of her home, it was a common style of dress for both sexes to wear leggings that stopped at the mid thigh. They were usually made form-fitting and with rigid ornamentation throughout, the purpose of which -beyond vanity of course- was to force them to retain their shape rather than sliding down and bunching up at the knees. It was a strange custom for a land so cold, but proud northerners embraced it conspicuously, showing off glimpses of skin as if to prove how little the climate affected them. What they did not volunteer is that the fabric of the leggings was thick and warm, and that most people wore equally thick, warm underwear underneath their thigh-length tunics, never mind their thick fur cloaks with hoods. Northerners, it seemed, were just as vulnerable to the cold as anyone - but only the unwise would be caught leaking that secret to a southerner. Her hand explored the increasingly wet fabric of her leggings, and upwards towards her crotch. She reached inside the thick puffiness of her own undergarment, holding a tense breath, but found that it was dry. Relief warred with confusion. Her hand explored -ever so gently so as not to wake him- Elm's underwear. The frontal regions were already soaking, and the warm moisture was spreading steadily outward around the sides and bottom. Without her conscious direction her hand moved forward to the source of the flow. The bulge of his dormant manhood was like a hot spring in the cold winter air as his underwear absorbed all that it could and was forced to let the rest flow freely around her fingers and onto her lap. For a few moments she sat, unsure what to do in this situation, as the flow soaked more of her leggings, and it was during her hesitation that he blinked awake - her hand still resting on the front of his underwear. He blinked. She blinked. "What's going..?" His eyes shot wide open. "I'm afraid you're peeing yourself," she explained unnecessarily. Some dormant instinct took over and she felt a cool confidence. "But it's nothing to lose sleep over," she said soothingly, dismissing the situational irony with a frown. "Don't worry, alright?" "I can't believe this is happening," he said miserably, lowering his head to avoid meeting her gaze. "Father would..." His voice had drifted off, but her own anger suddenly flared to life, like an open fire doused with grease. "Is this why your father always acts so ashamed of you? Why he always treats you poorly and keeps you out of sight? Because you... have accidents?" "I... I kept wetting the bed," he said in the voice of one resigned to a cruel but well deserved fate. "Father used to humiliate me for it... you know, to try and get me to stop. But it only made things worse and I started having accidents during the day. But I thought... I thought..." His voice was growing even more miserable. He had omitted the beatings, though the whole village knew about them. "It's alright," she kept repeating softly. The smell of pee and wet fabric started to waft out from underneath the thick fur in which they were huddled, while she pretended not to notice. He did not seem able to stop. The odor was strong, but strangely not unpleasant. It smelled uniquely of him. The gusting wind subsided, and in the sudden quiet she could hear the hiss of his stream penetrating the fabric of his underwear before finally running out. The sudden lack of hot pee washing over her fingers made her realize where her hand still sat, and she hastily relocated it. "There now. I know you feel better. It really is alright." He grew quiet for a time, and when he spoke again his voice sounded closer to its normal even tones. "I've been getting better since I met you. I thought... I thought I could control it. Now I know I shouldn't have come..." "Don't you dare say that," she scolded him gently, "I..." She stumbled over how to reassure him, and went with the simple truth. "I wouldn't have made this journey without you anyway, and I'm so glad you came! I don't want you to worry about this at all." When she continued to hold him and he didn’t pull away, she was struck by a feeling of rightness to the situation – of caring for him and reassuring him. She had been doing it almost instinctively since they had met, she now realized, and the instinct was only becoming stronger. The cold weather and blowing moisture prowled only feet away as the wind resumed its hunt. Wet clothing would only make its bite stronger, but their warm northern wool would provide some protection even when wet, and she saw no more reason to depart right now than she had before. She said as much and gently persuaded him to get some rest. When her persuasions failed she tried something new: she started humming a soft, gentle tune just as her mother had always done for her. It felt strange to share experiences so innocent and yet so intimate with a man who was close to her own age, but his youthful manner and appearance might have allowed him to pass for a younger brother. Did she want to think of him that way, as a boy? Or did she prefer the man? Perhaps all men had a dual nature, a vulnerable child still hiding within. She leaned back against the rock, unable to completely deny her own exhaustion. Did she really mind so much if that were true? Maybe his strange innocence was something she liked about him. Nothing wrong with that. Was there? Sleep took her by surprise after several minutes of stroking his coarse, sandy hair, still humming that same, mellow tune. A voice whispered in her dreams. It said that they would soon need to find their legs, and their courage. It said that far more than wind and weather awaited them out here, in the wild north.
  3. Chapter 1: The Accident "No, no, no, no," Emily whispered to herself as she scrambled out of bed. She wanted to cry. Her pajamas were completely soaked. Running her hand back over her bed she realized that it to was soaked. She had wet the bed. Bedwetting wasn't new to Emily as she had started having nighttime accidents a few months before. The only issue was that because of her accidents, Emily had been wearing Huggies Pull-ups to bed every night. Well, except last night, of course. Last night, she had decided that she was a big girl and didn't need to wear one of her pull on diapers and so after her mom wished her goodnight, she switched her Pull-up for a pair of panties. Emily knew that her mom would be upstairs soon to check on her and make sure she was up and getting ready for school. She needed to hide the evidence from her accident, fast. She stripped off her pajamas and slid them underneath her bed. She didn't have time to shower and so she did her best to towel off before getting dressed for the day. when it came to her bed, Emily only had one option and that was to remake her bed like she did every morning and hope her mom wouldn't realize she had an accident. She would deal with it when she got home from school. "Emily," July, Emily's mom, shouted up the stairs. "Are you ready yet?" "Coming mom," Emily replied. She made sure that everything was where it should be before heading downstairs. "What took you so long, sweetheart? You're going to be late." "Sorry mom, I slept past my alarm clock." "Hmm, ok. Did you have an accident?" "Mom," Emily whined, "I didn't wet the bed." She hated being asked that question. It made her feel like a baby. "Alright, I'm just asking," July replied, handing Emily her lunch box and water bottle. "Now come on, let's get going." Grateful her lie had passed, Emily grabbed a pop-tart out of the pantry before climbing into the back seat of the car. Now all she had to do was make it through the school day without her Mom finding her wet bed and pajamas. With that, Emily dove into her strawberry pop-tart with a sigh as her mom pulled out of the driveway. Throughout the school day, all Emily could think about was her accident. She was worried that her mom would find her wet sheets and the thought made her uneasy. Even if her mom didn't find out about her accident, she had no idea how she was going to clean up her sheets without being asked about them. Maybe she could pretend to spill some juice on her sheets to have an excuse to wash them? No, she would still get in trouble for spilling on her bed and her sheets would smell from the accident. The whole thing made her head hurt and she wished she had just worn the stupid Pull-up in the first place. As soon as the bell rang after school, Emily grabbed her backpack and fought her way through the horde of kids to the car rider line. She only had to wait a few minutes before she spotted her mom's car and sure enough her name was called out by one of the teachers. A pit formed in Emily's stomach as she climbed into the back seat of the car. All she wanted to do was pick her mom's brain about whether or not she had found out about her accident. Emily knew better than that though and kept quiet about the subject. "Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?" "It was good. We got to go to PE today instead of music, and I got an A on my math test." Emily's uneasiness was already starting to go away as she relaxed. Her mom was asking the usual after school questions. She didn't seem suspicious at all about the accident. "That sounds like a fun day. Anything else you want to tell me? "Not really. We started a new book today in class, but it's pretty boring." "Is that all you want to tell me about?" "Yyyaaa." Emily fidgeted in her seat. The pit in her stomach was back and she felt a little nauseous. Her mom had to know something was up, but she wasn't going to admit to anything. "Are you sure there's nothing else that happened. Outside of school maybe?" It was over. Emily knew her mom had found out about her accident and it was time to fess up. Her face was bright red and full of shame. She tried to avoid the conversation a minute longer by gazing out the window. "I... I had an accident last night." "I know you did, sweetheart. Why didn't you tell me?" "I don't know." "That's not an answer, Emily." I... I didn't want you to be mad that I didn't wear a Pull-up last night. I'm sorry momm... mom. I... I didn't mean to." Emily was on the verge of tears. She felt bad for lying to her mom. She didn't normally lie, but lying about the accident seemed better than admitting that she hadn't worn a Pull-up to bed like she was supposed to. "Sweetheart, you should have told me this morning." "Would you have been upset?" "Yes, sweetheart, I still would have been upset that you didn't wear a Pull-up, but we all make mistakes. What I'm more upset by is the fact you lied." "I'm sorry, it won't happen again." "I know it won't happen again because there are going to be some changes around the house." "What do you mean?" "You'll find out when we get home. I want to show you your room before we talk." Emily didn't know what to think. What had her mom meant by "changes around the house" and why did she need to see her room? The only thing she knew for sure was that she was in big trouble and she slumped back in her seat, sitting in silence for the rest of the drive. At home, Emily slowly trudged inside and set her backpack down. She watched her mom head upstairs and she tried not to follow. She wanted to stay as far away as possible to try and avoid whatever punishment she was about to receive. "Emily, where do you think you're going, little one?" July asked, holding out her hand. "Come on, let's go see your new room." Little one. Emily had never been called this before. It stopped her dead in her tracks. Her mom had never been so serious and yet so calm before. She had no choice but to take her mom's hand and follow her up the stairs. Taking each step as slow as possible to try and delay the inevitable. Upstairs, Emily found something she wasn't expecting. There was a new sign on her door. It was a cute, pink sign that was very babyish in design. What she couldn't figure out is why it read "Emily's Nursery" in big bold letters. She had to read the sign a second time just to be sure her brain wasn't playing tricks on her. She hadn't been mistaken though, the babyish sign on her door hinted that there was a nursery on the other side of the door. Her nursery. But that didn't make any sense. She didn't have a nursery, she had a bedroom. "Don't be afraid, sweetheart, go look inside." Emily wasn't sure if she wanted to see inside, but her mom's firm hand on her backside coerced her into the room. Thanks for reading! This is my first story here on dailydiapers so please leave a comment and let me know what you think.
  4. Erica and Jim, and Karen and I have been friends for a long time. Our families go to the park together with their children, celebrate holidays together, and only live a few miles from each other. Erica married Jim right out of high school and they have been married for 6 years, while Karen and I have been married 3 years.One summer during our high school days, Erica and I dated a few times. One time, Erica had me over when her parents weren't home. We decided to watch "Happy Gilmore" together, and then headed into town. During the movie, it became evident that Erica was willing to get physical that afternoon. However, I did not take advantage of the situation, as I was nervous. After a few dates, we decided to go our separate ways. Neither of us had any regrets about this decision until a few years later.The summer after we both graduated, Erica and I got a job working together. Erica was then engaged to Jim and I was single. We were both very happy, and the relationship between us was strictly friends, and neither of us wanted different. That summer, she and Jim got married, and I began dating Karen.Several years passed as I went away to college, married Karen, and eventually graduated. Erica continued to work at the same place, while her husband was making his career. Erica and Jim had their first child while I was in college. Erica decided to stay home with the baby, and that was when my feelings for her changed.It was a fall Friday afternoon, and Karen and I were driving back from our apartment at college to our parents' house for the weekend. Karen decided that we should stop by Erica and Jim's new home. We pulled into the driveway, walked onto the porch, and knocked on the door. Erica answered the door holding her 3-month old girl, and she was visibly frustrated. The baby was crying, and she said was nursing her when we came to the door. It was then that she sent my mind and hormones racing. She looked a lot better than the last time I had seen her. Her breasts had grown astronomically, but she still had a small frame. Erica looked fantastic! She was wearing a maroon shirt, one with hidden flaps on the sides for easy nursing access. I knew all about this, as I had a great interest in these sorts of things. She let us in and showed us around the house, but I don't remember anything she said, as my mind tried to picture her breastfeeding the baby.Karen knew about my fantasies before this encounter, and she had role-played them with me several times. But, she really didn't like this role-play, so I didn't push it too often. I definitely didn't tell Karen my feelings for Erica that day, nor have I since then.After I graduated from college, my wife and I moved back to where we grew up close our family, and, of course, close to Erica and Jim. After a year or so of renting a house, we finally purchased a home in October about 5 minutes from them. It was perfect in more ways than one. My wife had our first child, and he had just turned 1 when we moved into our new home. Karen breastfed him for about 6 months, but never let me taste any of her milk. It was OK with me, as we were still very sexually active.We both agreed that she would stay at home and raise our children while I worked on my career. This gave us the flexibility that we both desired, and we enjoyed our lives very much. It was that flexibility that allowed my wife to spend 2 weeks in December vacationing with her family down south while I stayed home alone and worked. She had done the same thing the year before, but this was the first time she left me alone in our new home.She had been gone a few days when I received a call from Jim."Hello," I answered."Mike, this is Jim. Erica and I would like to invite you over for dinner Sunday afternoon, with your wife being gone and all. Sound OK?""Sure," I said, "I could use a home-cooked meal. Two o'clock OK?""Sounds good," he said.This excited me very much, as it always excited me to see Erica. She just had their second child, and looked better every time I saw her. Her breasts had gotten big again, and she didn't gain as much weight with her second child as she did with the first. Our relationship had become strange lately, as we often avoided conversation when we saw each other. I just thought it was because I always fantasized about her, and talking to her only made it worse. I could never read how she felt about me. She probably would never speak to me again if she knew the thoughts that I had about her. Regardless, I couldn't wait for Sunday.I knocked on the door at 1:55 with much anticipation and nervousness. I had been with Erica and Jim many times, but not without my wife. Also, I knew Erica was breastfeeding, and merely the thought of that sent my mind racing."Hi Mike," Erica answered the door. "Come on in."I walked in and handed her the pan of brownies I had made for dessert."Thank you," she said, and carried them into the kitchen. From the kitchen, she said, "Jim got called in to work; I guess it's just going to be me and you. Is that OK? I told Jim I was going to call you and let you know before you came over, but I forgot."Are you kidding? Of course it was OK with me, I thought."Well, maybe I should go, with him being gone and all.""Oh, I am sure he doesn't mind, besides, I could use the adult conversation.""Alright, if you insist", I said smiling.At her request, I sat down at the table and waited for her to set the food on the table. As she leaned over to set the tray of lasagna on the table, I took a glance down her shirt. She lifted her eyes, and I looked back down quickly. She was wearing a button-down short sleeve shirt, and appeared to also be wearing a nursing bra underneath. It appeared to be the one with a snap on each shoulder that opens the cups for easy access for the baby. Now my mind was racing as I began to fix my plate, and luckily, the table was hiding my erection.During dinner, we made the usual chit-chat about our kids, work, houses, families, etc. I didn't eat much nor contribute much to the conversation, as all I could think about was maybe getting a glance down her shirt again. Just then, a cry came from the baby room."I guess the baby's up," she said, and ran upstairs to attend to him. She picked up the baby and brought him downstairs. "I think he just needs to be changed," she said, and proceeded to lay him on the living room floor to change his diaper. I watched her change him and thought about how lucky he was. She picked little Jimmy back up, sat on the couch, and began to soothe him to get him to quit crying."Why don't you come sit on the couch and watch some TV?""OK" I said and turned on the TV.About 10 minutes passed by, and the baby was still crying. "I guess he's hungry. I'm sorry, but I have to feed him. Would you do me a favor and hold him for a second?""Um, sure," I said, taking the baby.She then positioned herself on the couch, grabbed a blanket, and laid it on her shoulder covering her chest. She reached her hand under the blanket, and appeared to unsnap her shirt."OK," she said, "you can bring him to me now." I gave her the baby, and she laid him in her lap, put his head under the blanket, and began to nurse him. Erica tried to downplay the situation by not looking at the baby while he was breastfeeding, but I couldn't help taking glances over at her."Karen breastfed David, right?" she said."Yes, she did."After a few moments of awkward pause, I noticed Erica was blushing as she was jostling with the baby. "I'll be back in a few minutes, I'm sorry," she said, and carried the baby upstairs.While she was upstairs, my mind began wondering what was going on. I couldn't believe she was feeding him right here beside me, I thought. God, how I wanted to suck on those breasts for her. I went to the restroom down the hall to calm my nerves and to let my erection subside.When I came out the restroom, she was sitting back on the couch. I sat down on the recliner on the other side of the living room. I noticed her squirming, and could tell that she was in some discomfort."Is everything OK?" I asked."Well, it's just that the baby is not eating enough, that's all""Oh, is that why you are in pain?""Yes, Jimmy just fell back asleep after I started nursing him. It's just frustrating, I guess.""Oh", I said, starting to blush."What's wrong, Mike?" she asked."It's nothing, Erica, I should get going"."Come on, we're good friends, tell me what's on your mind. Please?"After some deliberation, I told her my innermost thoughts about her. After all, I had to know how she felt about me so I could quit fantasizing about her. Thinking about her was tearing me up inside."Well, I have been thinking about you a lot lately," I started."Oh?" she said quizzically."Yes, I have, and I think I should just lay it all out for you to get it off my chest.""Go ahead, I'm listening.""It all started a few years ago when Karen and I came over after you guys just moved in this house. Your daughter was just an infant then, and when we knocked on the door, we interrupted your nursing her.""Yes, I remember", she said."Well, I have always fantasized about a woman breastfeeding me and treating me like a baby, and when you said you were nursing her that day, I could not get the thought of you out of my head. It had been a while since I had seen you at that point, and you looked amazing. I was very excited when you guys invited me over for dinner, because I thought I may get a chance to see you breastfeeding little Jimmy. Anyways, I am glad I finally got a chance to tell you how I feel."I could see Erica was shocked to hear all of this. "Wow, I had no idea you had these thoughts about me. I'm very flattered. Honestly, I have had thoughts about you too. I noticed that when we see each other, we avoid talking. I have always been attracted to you physically, but I didn't think that you were. I never really wanted to stop dating you, but I knew that's what you wanted."At that point, you could cut the tension with a knife."Well," she continued, "I will help you if you will help me. My breasts hurt really badly, and it sounds like you can help me get the excess milk out."I couldn't believe what my ears had just heard."Yes, I can and would love to, but I am a little nervous. You'll have to tell me what to do," I said."Come over beside me on the couch and sit down," she said. I moved over beside her and waited for what was next. She looked into my eyes, and started slowly unbuttoning her shirt. With the undoing of each button, I could see more and more of her massive breasts, which were covered by the white nursing bra. When she got about ¾ of the way down her shirt, she said "OK, now lay down on my lap on this pillow". I turned my body and laid my head down into her lap and looked up into her chest."Is baby ready to nurse?" she asked."Yes!" I said, very excited that she was playing into my fantasy.She then opened her shirt, revealing that bra that I had been dreaming about for so long. Her breasts were popping out of the bra; she must have been a 40D. She tucked her hair back behind her ear and reached for the snap by her right shoulder, smiling as she looked at my eyes. She unclipped the bra, and slowly brought the flap down, uncovering the most beautiful breast I had ever seen. She then grabbed her breast, and directed her nipple towards my mouth."It's time to eat, baby. Now latch onto my breast and suck real good."With that request, I was off. I latched onto her breast and sucked for a few seconds until the milk starting coming out. It tasted so good, and this moment was so sensual that I closed my eyes. Her breast was so full and hard, that some of the milk dribbled down my chin."Mmm", I moaned."Baby was so hungry, huh? Now you drink from mommy till all the milk is gone, OK baby.""Yes, mommy," I answered as I took a short break from sucking. As I latched back on, I could tell she was enjoying it too as she made a few sounds.I nursed from her right breast for I guess about 5 minutes, but it seemed like an eternity. When there was none left, I unlatched from the breast."Mama, this one's dry, I think I need to nurse on the other one.""OK, baby, hold on" she said.She began to reposition herself, when I stopped her."Hold on. I have been such a good boy; may I unsnap the other side?""Yes you can, baby," she replied.I sat up from her lap, swung my left leg around her body, and now was sitting in her lap facing her body. I unbuttoned the shirt the rest of the way, and pulled it away from her body. Then, I slid the shirt off of her shoulders and tossed it onto the floor. The empty breast was now hanging out with the full breast still cupped by the nursing bra. I then reached my hand to unsnap the flap covering her left breast and slowly pulled it down. I went face first into her full breast and sucked some of the milk out."Baby, mama needs her bra off. You just lay down and mommy will take it off", she said."Mama, can I take it off for you?""Sure baby, but let mama take your shirt off." She pulled my shirt off and rubbed my chest and body with her hands.I leaned forward and pressed my bare chest against hers and wrapped my arms around her. I found the hook, unfastened her bra, and pulled the straps forward off of her shoulders. She took the bra from me and tossed it on the couch. I laid back down in her lap, and began to drink the rest of her milk."Mmm, mama likes baby breastfeeding" she said as she rubbed my face with her hand. Then, she reached down and rubbed my stomach. As I continued to feast on her breast, her hand reached into my pants and she began to rub my cock."Baby so big", she said."Ohhh" I moaned as she unzipped my shorts and caressed my balls. I then grabbed the dry breast and began to massage it."This one's almost dry too," I said, "what should we do?""Follow me", she said, as we got up off the couch. She zipped my pants back up and put her shirt on unbuttoned. With my head still spinning from the best 10 minutes of my life, she grabbed my hand and led me up the stairs.As she led me down the hallway, we stopped at the baby's room. She opened the door and led me over by the changing table."Come on, it's time to put a diaper on baby. Now get up on the table."Without hesitation, I hopped up on the changing table. This was a little difficult as the table was only about 3 feet long. The table was topped with a pad, and I laid down on my back on the pad. She reached down and grabbed a diaper and began to unfold it. She leaned over me and removed my shorts and underwear."Spread your legs", she said, "I've got to put a clean diaper on you".I spread my legs and rested them on her shoulders as she prepared the diaper."Lift your bottom, baby" she said. She then put the diaper under my ass. She pushed my hips against the pad as she pulled the diaper over my penis. "I have a couple of special diapers that I keep for special occasions like this. They are big enough for adults, but have the sticky tabs like baby diapers. I also cut a hole in the middle for your penis."She pressed the diaper against my hips, and pulled the diaper tight by fastening the sticky tabs. "Baby's all done. Now you have a clean diaper.""Thank you mommy", I said and hopped off the table."Now, let's go to the bed", Erica said, and led me into her bedroom. "Mama needs to finish nursing you".I laid down on the bed on my side, and she laid on her side next to me. She pulled back her shirt again, and I latched on to her breast."Finish nursing and mommy will play with you." I nodded as I was enjoying Erica's big mommy breasts. She reached down and played with my cock as I breastfed."OK, I think we are done nursing. Now let's take care of mommy." With that, she stood beside the bed and took off her shorts and underwear. She got on the bed, reached behind my head, and placed two pillows behind my neck."Just lay back and let mommy take care of everything, baby""OK, mama" I replied and laid my head on the pillows.Erica then pulled off her shirt and tied up her hair."Mama's gonna suck on you now."She moved down to the end of the bed, got on her knees on the floor, and began sucking on my cock with the diaper still on. I closed my eyes as she started sucking slowly. She then rubbed her nipples against my penis, dribbling some milk onto my diaper."Uh, oh, baby's diaper is wet now. Let mama take it off." As she wrapped her mouth around my penis, she slowly undid the tabs of the diaper and rubbed my sides. She removed her mouth from my penis, and proceeded to pull off the diaper and toss it on the floor.She moved onto the bed, stood up on her knees, and lined up her vagina with my penis."Mama wants daddy now," she said as she slid my dick into her vagina. She rode up and down, up and down, up and down."Harder!" she yelled "Harder! Harder! Harder! Here cums mama!! OHHH!!! OHHH!!! OHHH!! We both screamed together as we climaxed together.When she finished, she laid down beside me and rubbed my chest as I sucked on her breasts some more."Thank you, mama. Don't hesitate to invite me over for supper." This was a story I copied and pasted years ago. I can't recall where I got it. Hope everyone enjoys and if the author shows up and wants it to go down, please let me know.
  5. I've revamped the cover of the previously released book, The Godfather's Offer, and I want to share it with the folks at DD. Feel free to grab a copy this weekend between Friday shortly after midnight June 5th until midnight June 7th. All times are US Pacific Daylight Time. Thanks for your support all these years.
  6. (All characters in the following fictional story are above the age of 18.) I saw my Little visitor, Bobbie, crouching in the corner of my living room. I smiled because I knew a Little’s ‘poopy face’ when I saw one, and I was excited for this moment to come. You see, little Bobbie has come to stay with me a few days ago. Of course, I immediately demanded he start wearing diapers, despite his dire protests. “Mommy,” (What I’d instructed him to call me due to his ‘Mommy’s boy’ behavior problems), “I don't need diapers! I'm potty trained, I pwomise!” “Oh yeah?” I replied as he laid naked before me on the diaper changing table for the first time. “How do you explain these filthy stains in your underpants? Or the urine you splashed on the toilet seat? Or what we have right here...” I grabbed a wet wipe from the side of the diaper changing table and dragged it down his naked little bottom and twirled it around his bum hole. He winced and blushed as I teased his bottom. It was my favorite look to see on a boy when I changed his diaper— the special mixture of humiliation and helplessness. I held up the dirty wipe for him to see. “It's very clear you are *not* potty trained at all, given that you don't even know how to wipe your own bottom!” I scolded. Little Bobbie hung his head in shame. I knew I had won the battle over what undergarments he'd be wearing from now on. I gently slipped a paci in Bobbie’s mouth and shaved all of his pubic hair off for easy future cleaning (I also love to see a boy’s peepee so nice and smooth on the diaper changing table!) I then finished wiping his bottom, powdering him, and wrapping him tight in a nice, thick, disposable diaper. As I helped Bobbie off the change table in his new diaper, his bright red face told me he was speechless with humiliation. I was blushing with exhilaration. I took great glee later that day (as I always do) when I told Bobbie, ‘when in diapers, toilets are off limits.’ I grinned as I watched him squirm and make a very, yellow, soggy diaper for me to change. And over the last few days, I've relished every chance I’ve had to squeeze his soggy diaper and tease him for being such a ‘peepee pants’. But what I was really looking forward to... was Bobbie’s first ‘mess’. Of course, it was clear Bobbie intended to hold his ‘number two’ as long as he could. It’s concerning to any Mommy to know that their Little is getting constipated. (An unavoidable fact to learn when one only changes ‘yellow’ diapers over a period of days.) I knew Bobbie hadn't taken his diaper off to relieve his bowels somewhere else due to the locking mechanisms I began using to ensure that only I could remove his diaper. I also knew Bobbie was putting some serious effort into ‘holding it’, since the diet I had been feeding him certainly ‘encouraged’ the voiding of his bowels. But I patiently bided my time, knowing that the more backed up he got, the better the ‘moment’ would be. Finally, that afternoon, I decided to give him the ‘help’ he needed downstairs to finally go over the edge. I secretly inserted 6 glycerin suppositories into his bum during his diaper change. It was overkill, certainly, but I had decided that Little Bobbie deserved a very ‘urgent’ sort of accident. Maybe then, he would think twice about ‘holding’ it in the future. Now, it was just an hour or so later, after a very fiber packed dinner in his high chair, that Bobbie was retreating to the corner to do what I call, ‘the poopy shuffle.’ That is, Little Bobbie was trying to find a spot to crouch down and hide, while grabbing his tummy, while grunting, while holding his diapered butt, while dancing on his feet, still hoping to hold it in. “Bobbie,” I called out with a smile. “What are you doing over there in that corner?” “Nothing,” he whispered. “Oh yeah? Well it looks like you're doing a poopy. Is that what you're going?” I asked again from across the room. “No!” He grunted. “Bobbie, if I come over there and check that diaper in five minutes, and I find out you lied to me because your diaper is full of poopy, do you know what's going to happen?” I chastised. “No,” he grunted again. “I'm going to put you over my knee for a very hard, very long spanking! Poopy diaper or not,” I said. He grunted, looked at me with his bright red face, then looked away again. He stuck his thumb in his mouth (something I told him he must do whenever in the process of using his diaper) and said, “Okay Mommy. I'm doing a poopy!” I smiled. I walked toward him and began gently rubbing his back. “Good boy. Good boy, making a poopy in his diapers for Mommy,” I coo’d. I could tell he hated the way my touch invaded his privacy even further while making it harder for him to avoid ‘doing his deed’. I then placed my hand on his diapered butt and began to gently pat his behind. “Make a poppy diaper for Mommy. Go ahead, Bobbie,” I coo'd. “Just make sure Mommy knows when it's coming out.” “I'm going, Mommy,” he grunted. “I'm going poopoo,” he grunted loudly. I smiled with delight as I felt the back of his diaper fill up with a warm, brown mass. I began squeezing and patting his mess as he continued crouching, grunting, and pushing more of his hot load into the seat of his crinkly diaper. “Good boy! Making your poppies for Mommy! Keep going! Make a big stinky diaper for Mommy to change,” I continued to coo as I mushed and squeezed the mess contained in his diaper. “Mommy,” he moaned involuntarily. A loud hiss rang out, and I knew his bladder was releasing as well. I watched with joy as the front of his diaper turned bright yellow. I continued massaging, fondling, and mushing his mess against his bottom he continued to sweat and grunt and squeeze in front of me. Soon it was clear little Bobbie was wearing one of the messiest, poopiest diapers I'd ever seen! And knowing how much Bobbie had resisted doing it made it that much more satisfying to watch. “Pee ew!” I said after he had finally stopped grunting and caught his breath. “You are one, poopy baby, aren't you!” I teased as I lightly patted his poopy diaper butt. “Yeth, Mommy,” he replied with his thumb in his mouth. “Do you want a diaper change?” I asked him as I continued mushing his poppy diaper into his butt and groin. “Yeth pwease,” he said, his thumb still in his mouth. “Yes please what?” I asked. “Yeth, pwease, Mommy, pwease change my poppy diaper,” he begged. His face was redder than I'd ever seen it. I could tell that the relief of his evacuation was fading—he could fully take in the warm and stinky mess he had made, and I knew he was being overwhelmed with waves of extreme embarrassment and shame. I was in heaven. “Okie, Bobbie. I’ll change your poopy diaper. Right after we get you some milk,” I said with a smirk. Bobbie groaned with dread, but he knew better than to argue. I picked Bobbie up in my hands, carried him over to my couch, and exposed my breast from my maternity bra, just as we had done every night since he has arrived. He immediately went to town—latching on my voluptuous breast and sucking down my warm breast milk. “Hungry, poopy baby!” I said with a laugh. I patted his poopy bottom as he drank, relishing the sensation of Bobbie sucking down my milk while I fondled and mushed his stinky diaper against his bottom with my hand. I knew that Bobbie was now feeling littler and more babyish than he ever had in his adult life, and the feeling of transforming him through such intense humiliation made me practically euphoric with arousal. “Mommy,” he said, looking up at me with my warm milk dripping down his chin. “I have to go weewee again.” I giggled and patted his butt again. “It's okay sweetie, your poopy diaper can hold it. Go ahead,” I said as I switched him over to my other breast. I smiled with pleasure as his already soggy diaper dropped just a little bit more as he let out a new stream of warm, yellow urine into the front of his diaper. “Good boy. Mommy’s little stinker is such a good boy,” I coo’d as he hungrily swallowed the milk from my other breast. By the time my breasts were finished, Bobbie had fallen asleep in my lap—no doubt an effect from the warm milk, my warm lap, and well, his warm, soiled diaper. I lifted Bobbie up and carried him to his nursery. I put Bobbie down on his diaper changing table, and with a predictable *squelch*, his mega poopy mess squeezed out through his leg holes. “What a poopy boy!” I said to the sleep Little. His face predictably reddened. I laid him back on the table, undid the tapes of his diaper, and lifted up the diaper to take a look at the damage. “My my! This is the poopiest diaper Mommy’s ever seen!” I teased as the stench of his mess wafted into the room. “Sawwy, Mommy,” he replied, his thumb in his mouth again. “It's okay, little one. You can't help it. You're just a little baby who needs Mommy to clean up his poopy messes, aren’t you?” I coo’d as used the front of his soggy diaper to wipe the chunks of his brown mess off his bottom. “Yeth, Mommy,” he replied. *** Although some Nannies don't like changing poopy diapers, personally, I love them. That's because, when I looked down at Bobbie’s stinky, open diaper in front of me, I felt an incredible and transcendent power over the little one, as I always do. My observation of Bobbie’s stinky mess alone represents an incredible act of domination that communicates his total helplessness and dependence on me as his caregiver in his most embarrassing and vulnerable state. There is nothing more thrilling than watching his transformative humiliation in real time as he experiences the babyish sensation of my cool wipes patiently cleaning him up his filthy bum. As I lifted his legs, scrubbed his mess, sang to him about his stinky accident, gently fingered his bottom to get it ‘extra clean’, showed him the massive load in his used diaper before throwing it out, sprinkled him with baby powder, and wrapped him in an extra thick, fresh, clean diaper, I knew I was doing what I love best when it comes to being a Mommy for my Littles. And as I put little Bobbie in his jammies and tucked him into bed, I knew I couldn't wait to do it all over again tomorrow. *** Did you enjoy this naughty little diaper story, my Little? Find tons more of my ABDL stories by visiting me at: www.nannychloetales.com www.amazon.com/author/nannychloe https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/NChloe And by following me on Tumblr! http://nannychloetales.tumblr.com/ XOXO Nanny Chloe
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