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  1. Chapter 1: For Her Good I will add the story here as I can. Full story already available here: https://www.wattpad.com/user/AFictionalPhile and https://www.deviantart.com/afictionalphile/gallery/91841094/for-her-good-15-chapters The problem was that she had three roommates. Yet, Sir always said that never being alone was for her good. Sir said it just like that, in a text message, in response to her worrying. Sir said that life goes on. Sir said that... I will not bury the lead. I will not sugarcoat it. Consent culture rightly necessitates that I lay this more bare than anything. We are trying to change your life. Remind yourself once again, Mari. Are we entering this agreement purely for sensation? It was conversations like these that made Mari blush more than the details of their agreement. Sir's language stripped Mari like she'd brought a bomb through TSA. Sir had so effectively undressed her fantasies and fears, in these months, Sir had so quickly probed and unwound her proclivities, that she still felt like a child going to a parent with something as trivial as a hopelessly knotted shoelace. Except that in the case of Sir, she'd shown up presenting her tangled up psyche. Sir had unraveled her problems just the same. Sir had found her mental G-spot with the precision and command of an award-winning chiropractor. Sir never had to say things like: You will cum for me now. Instead Sir would just say: ahhh...that got you there, didn't it? And Sir, as if they were in Mari's head and not in her phone, would always be right. Big girls would respond with more than just emojis, wouldn't they? Sir's presence was digital yet encompassing. Texted but seemingly scriptural. No manager, professor, teacher, or other esteemed individual in her life had so thoroughly outclassed her. She was a rowboat bobbing beside a cruise ship, when Sir's messages crowned her phone banner. Never before had she been so blissfully cowed. Nothing crossed her mind that Sir had not thought of first. No mental caverns existed that Sir could not, with just a few whispers, lead her out of. I understand what you mean. Know this. You are the brave one. You are facing who you are. Take your sense of unworthiness, Mari. Let us say that you're the fuckup. The dropout, the girl with the dead end job. The under-performer. Let's pretend that your three roommates are indeed smarter, better grown-ups than you. Let us say that you've screwed up every relationship you've been in because you're a needy crybaby. Let's own that, Mari. Let's ball it up – put it in a diaper. Change it often enough and it won't leak. If we do this, perhaps none of your faults will leak into your worthiness either. *** A few days before the beginning of her agreement, the first cardboard box (Sir said that there would be very many), lay unopened beside her bed. The box was tucked between her bedside table and the closet, wedged in the space so that she could not even exit her bed to that side without crushing it. It stood out little among the messiness of her room – another token of fuckupery that even Sir did not know about. Even her roommates called her Monster Mari for the way underwear, socks, and clothes were piled on the floor. At her best, she told herself that it was organized. That there was a method to Monster Mari. At her worst, she knew the panties were going in a shoebox, destined for the mail. For Your Good. Just days away from the beginning of her agreement. Sir's last question burned on the phone. Is this thing we are about to do purely sensational? She shot off a message. "No Sir," she said. She knew it was a little girl's answer, and that Sir wouldn't be pleased. Sir was going to coach her through her fears, once again, and in the end Sir would be right. Mari rolled over and groaned. Sir had owned her orgasms almost since they'd begun messaging. She'd almost begged Sir to take them; without prompting, one night when they were first messaging each other. Before diapers and all that took over their DMs. She'd just asked for permission, Sir ignored it. She'd asked again, hot, her fingers moving fast. The question had prompted another lecture from Sir – one of the hottest things she'd ever experienced. Sir would do no half measures. Sir played no games. Permission now is meaningless without a totality, Mari. And I won't get into something so serious, so flippantly. That night, she'd wanted it. "Can I?" she asked. Again and again. Mari. You can do whatever you like tonight. We can have a serious conversation about it, and I would like to. But we will not have it now. They'd had that conversation just a few days later. Mari, for all her distractibility, for all her reprimands at work for not being on the phones long enough, for not working as hard as she could be, had never been more focused on a thing in her life. Selling her pussy to Sir was a divine urgency; it was the only thing that could get her heart to stop beating through her ribs. She sat on calls at work, at her desk in her Monster Mari room, one hand constantly between her thighs. I have a standard for this, Mari. This isn't my first rodeo. You will only cum with my permission. When I command you to go to your room to play and cum, you will do so. I will not ask when this would be disruptive. Though it may not be what you want, I will always ask For Your Good. Honesty is up to you. You can have sex with any person and any outcome is acceptable, so long as you report it to me afterwards. The last part always struck her as odd. Almost disappointing. She was hoping at least for something savage. Anal chastity, the purchase of some grotesque implement to rail herself on camera. It took her months to test Sir's nugget of freedom. When she returned to Sir with reports of a cocktail-soaked conquest, she was surprised about how happy Sir was for her. "Aren't you...I used YOUR pussy like that? You know?" Use big girl words. "Aren't you jealous?" I get to talk to you as much as I do. You don't know who I am. I have no right to feel jealous. And least of all no cause. I'm proud of you. "But it's YOUR pussy and I just...used it..." It was a guy, right? And he fucked you? "Yah. It wasn't, like, amazing. But yeah." And did he cum inside of you? This sort of question, with anyone else, would have made her roll her eyes. But with Sir it piqued her. She was once again disrobed with a text and it took great discipline for her to not respond with an emoji. "Well...in a condom. But yeah." That's what pussies are for, Mari. I am like an underwriter for your car, if you had one. I would not be displeased if you drove your car. I would, however, like to know if you were spinning donuts in a parking lot with it. Think of it this way. Your pussy doesn't belong to me. Rather, it simply does not belong to you. We do not live in a world where a public pillory to display your entries is safe or acceptable. But know this. The world is a better place when you have been mounted and used. In the same way that the world is better when food is eaten and not left to spoil, just so I hope that those who want to enter you, may. It is the same with your eventual diapering. When the day comes, Mari. You are not giving up your adulthood. You are simply accepting that everyone – everyone – is more adult than you. She remembered thinking about this for a while, and almost forgetting to ask for permission. "Will this be the case when I'm in diapers?" Yes, of course. "Will I get an exception for my diapers when it comes to...sex?" Do you want an exception? "No..." Then why does a little girl ask this question?
  2. I'm so curious i was thinking about this for a fic. are there any foods drink that effect your bladder and make you need to go now? i don't know what it is about pepsi but it's always had an effect on my stomach so i rarely have it i'm fine with Coke though. I'm trying to think of other things i think sometimes peanut butter if i have so much and also eating way to fast especially chocolate.
  3. Chapter 1 I came across the ad on a site I used to market my services. I had finished university with a decent degree, but struggled to get a well paid job and had slipped into ‘escort’ work through a friend who was in the same line of 'business'. I gradually started to specialise in kinkier aspects of the scene: partly because the money was better but also because the customers were, on the whole, nicer. I was doing okay, but the ad certainly caught my interest. “Well remunerated, long-term contract for a petit young woman with an interest in submissive role/age play.” I ticked all the boxes. I was only 5’1”, slim and an A cup bra size. I certainly had a preference for the submissive role and had quite extensive experience as a sub. Not so much on age-play, but the thought of it didn’t bother me at all. I called the number and a female voice answered. “Hello. This is Marie, can I help you?” “I’m calling about the advert for a young woman” I replied. “Ah, excellent. What’s your name?” I told her that my name was Louise Howe. “And what’s your current position?” I gave an outline of my current circumstances in terms of work, accommodation, personal life and location. Marie took it all on board and, when she felt the phone call had gone as far as it could, gave me a web link to send a few photos, “just regular pics - no need for nudes - but make sure there’s at least a couple of full length shots”. The next step, assuming my photos passed muster, would be an interview and selection process which would take three days in a location to be advised. I was told that all expenses would be taken care of and a fee paid for my time. The fee suggested was more than I’d earn in a month, so I had no hesitation in confirming my interest. She said I’d hear one way or the other in a couple of days and that was that. After finishing the call I poured a glass of red wine and thought about what had transpired. Marie had seemed nice, her tone had been very matter-of-fact - I could have been applying for a position as an accounts clerk. There was nothing to put me off so I sent off a few recent pics with the details she had asked for and then it was back to work, checking my messages on the adultwork website. A message was waiting from a man in London on business, staying at the Savoy Hotel. He was looking for a submissive and had left a mobile number. I rang the number and he answered straight away. He said he was at the hotel and was ready for a session right now. Charing Cross was about fifteen minutes on the tube so I said I could be there in about half an hour. He agreed my rates and gave me his name, Simon, and room number. He said to go through to the American Bar and call him when there. Before calling off he asked that I wore modest dress, but with a fairly short skirt and I was happy to inform him I’d not need to change! I have to admit that I was feeling pretty good on my journey in. The American Bar is, if a little pricey, fabulous and, with the best cocktails in London, I was hoping for a drink before we got down to business. On arriving in the bar I gave him a call. He was sat at the bar and waved at me as his phone rang. He looked like a nice guy, probably mid-50s, smartly dressed. He offered me a drink and I ordered a Coffee Black Velvet and then we moved to a more private table. After asking about my trip in it was down to business. He said that he wanted me to be his baby for the evening. I’d be wearing and using nappies and, as a baby, have no ‘agency’ at all. I’d be at the mercy of him as my daddy with the backup of a safe word. If I was comfortable with this he’d pay me for an overnight session. If not we’d have a one-hour session and he’d pay me for two hours. I’d had some experience with the adult baby scene before and it had always been fun, so I agreed to the overnight session. We finished our drinks and I went with him to his room. A “Do Not Disturb” sign was hung from his door handle and as we entered the room I could see why. There were packs of nappies, baby bottles, dummies, and clothes. A changing mat was on the bed and there was a cot in a corner of the room. “I told them that my wife and baby daughter might be here this evening, so they made a cot up for me”. I had to admire his preparations. “Time for your nappy, Louise”.
  4. In a certain sense, incontinence is like an empty gas tank. At some point you're driving and something has to be done about it and if you don't, you're going to be waylaid. Often it's smart to pre-empt the needs of your tank. The only difference is the obvious, that being empty and being full mean quite different things when it comes to gas tanks and diapers. I have, unfortunately, been known to run on fumes. In other senses, incontinence is like trying to keep a sandcastle from slumping and oozing into the dunes of the beach. Too wet or too dry, your magnificent plans are always coming back down to mush. Sometimes I describe it as a constant choose-your-own-adventure picture book. Except that it is one where almost all of the outcomes are bad (LEAKED - WOMP WOMP), where every 'picture' is a dark spot on my ass. I have, unfortunately, been known to be as bad at incontinence as I am bad at continence. But this story isn't about incontinence. Well it is, don't get me wrong. I don't have any stories about myself that don't include a diaper. This is about refilling the tank. This is about keeping the sandcastle up. This is about finding that final, glorious page of the picture book where something other than 'GET WET, LOSER' is written. I live with my boyfriend, whose name is Pete. He likes me for every other reason than my babyishness, but he likes that too. He doesn't mind that I'm too fraidy-scared to drive. He is totally okay that half of our cabinets are filled with sippy cups and disney plates – the ones with the little dividers and princess painted on them. He doesn't mind that I occasionally, without even noticing, shove my thumb into my mouth, though he does make me take it out for a pacifier if I do. He doesn't mind that I screech when I see a bug, though to be fair, who really really likes bugs anyway? It started in the middle of the night. I woke up confused and disoriented. I both knew why I was awake and at the same time, I couldn't figure it out. What was that, down there, on my butt? Is it Pete kicking me in his sleep? Is Gubbles, our cat, making biscuits on my tush? An intruder? Did the pillow get in between us to rest on my butt? What the... I realized that it was what it always was. The mess is what wakes me up. I never awaken with cramps with time to hop out of bed. That would be hopeless anyway. I'd probably just end up elbowing Pete in the face. After that, I'd trip on the covers. I'd step on Gubbles. I'd run headlong into the bathroom door. And despite all of the bumps and bruises and general carnage my midnight rush would cause, my diaper would still wind up heavy. No, any dramatic hope of getting to the potty is beyond me. I'm going to shit the bed and I'm going to find out after the fact. Now, the next thing here Daddy definitely should not know. I went back to sleep. I waited until the movement stopped and then I put a hand down there to feel it. It wasn't a ton. It wasn't anything in the emergency category. It really never is. I wear a special extra pad in the back part of the diaper for exactly this reason, and I usually don't need it. Sometimes I wrongly assess how much poop is really down there. Like I said, I'm not very good at being incontinent. Daddy – Pete – says that I should deal with it anyway, and no matter how disoriented he is, he is always willing to help no matter the hour. I know that I'm supposed to wake him up. But I also know that when poop does wind up in my diaper, like now, I'm supposed to wait. You never quite know when you're done. Well I don't, at least. So I crack my back and roll over to see if the smell or if the sounds of my toots have woken up Daddy, but they haven't. I tell myself I'm going to wait to see if there is more, and then I'll wake him up. I definitely don't want to wake him up for messy diapers twice in the same night, right? He has to work tomorrow, after all. So I wait, knowing full well that no matter how much poop is in the diaper right now, I'll have no trouble falling asleep...if I just don't...close...my...eyes... I wake up sometime later with a foreign hand on my hip. It's pushing me. Why? I wanna be here! Whyyy? Oh. I let it push me on my back. The dream I'm having surges back until I feel a cold feeling on my legs. The jammies are gone. Whyyy? I pull a hand towards my face and it gets most of the way there but then the dreams come back. Something about a beach...sandcastles...sandcastles melting and sand in my diaper... Not sand. I woke up to see Daddy. He's done more than push me on my back and take my jammies off. There is a new diaper on the corner of the bed. There is the powder and the wipes beside it. There is light coming from the lamp by the bed. I'm no longer by the pillows, I'm at the end of the bed. And there is something under my bum and I can feel the edge of it against my back. "Hi," I said. "Hi," he said. And that's all we needed to say. At some point my doodoo must have woken him up. Now my legs were up, now they were down again. In his tiredness he forgot the cold wipe countdown and I squealed. He didn't say sorry, but he put a hand on my tummy and told me that it was okay. I woke up again sometime later. The smell of poopy was all gone. I didn't even remember the rest of the diaper change. I didn't remember him taking the diaper downstairs to the bathroom with the genie. He didn't like putting the dirty ones in the upstairs genie. I don't remember him going in and washing his hands or spraying the febreeze or turning the fan on or opening the window, though now I could hear the constant tread of heavy rubber tires on the street below. I don't remember him coming back to bed, or if he kissed me on the forehead or tummy once as he did. But he was next to me. His back was turned. I moved to snuggle into him. I don't make a very good big spoon but I like to try. As I do, I realize that the butt of my diaper is stiff and bloated. I try to tell myself that it's not bad enough for Daddy to change me before breakfast, but I know that he probably will if he sees it. I fall asleep again and don't wake up until his alarm goes off. I get up fast. I'd fallen asleep too fast during my nighttime change for Daddy to put my jammies back on, so I found them in the laundry basket and put them back on. I realized that they still kind of smelled but I honestly didn't care. Carliah is a pooper, that's what it is, and poopy probably isn't done with me today yet anyway. Oh no. It wasn't. It definitely wasn't. That's why I'm telling this story. I try to sneak out of the bedroom once the jammies are over my diaper. It's even wetter than it was when I woke up and snuggled earlier. Even worse, the pee pee smells because it's been since the evening since I had any wa-wa. Thinking of that, I find my baba on the bedside table and take a slurp. I figured I'd have a quick sip and then go down to fill it with cold water. All so I can stay away from Daddy and enjoy my pee pee diaper for a little longer. But the slurps from the bottle turn out to be an oopsie, and Daddy wakes up. "Come here," he said, after aching and stretching under the covers. His eyes aren't open yet. One of his hands flops to the edge of the bed and beckons me. I try to ignore his command. "Hi Daddy!" I say. "Hi Carliah," he said. "Come here." "I'm thirsty." "Come here." I try to step around him anyway. I don't want a change and I know it's on his mind. My diaper crunches under my jammies, though, and despite his eyes being closed, he can hone in on my location with ease. His hand lashes out and grasps my back until it closes around my wrist. Rats. "Daddy!" I say, trying to sound as meek as I can. It's probably a miscalculation. Sounding small will only make Daddy harder under the covers, and a hard Daddy means, paradoxically, a dry Carliah. At least in this situation. I'm certainly wet in a brand new way as I feel his fingers enclose around my arm. I'm too horny to yank myself away. But I do try to turn towards him. I can feel where the pee is and its where it usually is – in the back. If he's lazy and he just pats the front he might not lay me down on the bed. But even if he's grunting with every movement of his body. Even if every joint cracks as he slugs his way to the edge of the mattress. Even as yellow gunk falls off his eyelids. Daddy doesn't settle for just patting the front. He tells me to spin around and presses in the shield of the diaper. His hand does not find the crunchy plastic of a dry diaper. Not even close. He leans forward and sniffs. "Daddy!" I say. "Are you pooped?" "No I'm not pooped Daddy," I say. "Smells like it," he says. I think for a second. Sometimes, poop can take me by surprise simply because I'm just so used to it being down there. But I don't think that it's the case this time. I came up with a reason. "I put my jammies back on," he said. "Okay," he says. There is a pause. "Lay down." "Daddy!" "You're too wet." "Daddy!" I say, tugging on his grip. He doesn't release and I'm still too horny to really fight. I couldn't get away anyway if I did. Soon enough I'm on my back. Once again. Daddy, more awake now, decides to give me a morning lecture. "The weather is getting warmer," he says, pointing at the window. "You know how it gets in the summer, Carliah. You know that we need to stay on top of it." "I know." "So I don't want you to fight me. I want you to help stay on top of it too. Were you trying to sneak out of here with this diaper?" "No." "Carliah. Did you wake up when you did your poopy last night?" "No! Daddy, please!" "Carliah?" "What Daddy?" "Be good. And lift your butt. That's better." Daddy was right. It was getting warm, and Spring was coming through the windows. I didn't put my jammies back on. I wore one of Daddy's t-shirts and long socks past my knees and I sat down on the couch. I had to fix my diaper a little; it wasn't one of daddy's best tape-jobs, but I couldn't complain because I'd been fussy and he'd been groggy. Daddy made me toast and some eggs and laid them down on the coffee table. He had picked one of the baby plates, this one with Belle from Beauty and the Beast. He had made himself the same thing, complete with a coffee. He poured me juice, though, and put it in a sippy cup so I couldn't spill. "Aww, I forgot the apples," he said. "It's okay!" I said, popping up. "I can get them." Daddy looked at my diaper, which flashed before his t-shirt fell over it to cover it. "Thank you honey," he said. I walked over to the kitchen. I tucked a hand under my shirt to feel that yes, my diaper was still actually dry. I still missed my big wet diaper, but this felt good too. Like a full tank of gas. Like a newly washed car, complete with its own new smell of plastic and powder and lavender lotion. Like a brain that was freshly snoozed, with no weblike gunk between the ears, ready to think big smart thoughts through the whole day.. I leaned across the counter with both hands to grab two apples. Carliah Garcia is not someone blessed with hands big enough to hold two apples in one hand at the same time. Perhaps it was the way my tummy contorted against the marble countertop. Maybe it was my movement, or perhaps the prospect of food. Food is always a catalyst; mealtime becomes change-time. I'm rarely in a state to order dessert, if you know what I mean. Sometimes the check can't come soon enough. But today, all I needed was to reach for two apples. And then that new car smell was gone. It hit my diaper in a flash. Like someone had pulled open the back and dropped a fist-sized rock right into the seat. Pee surged out too, as if it had been waiting for the time to strike. It came out with a fart too. Daddy looked up at me. He had a big mouthful of toast. "Everything okay, honey?" I knew I was blushing. I knew he could probably hear what had happened too. I stood there, arms outstretched, with two apples. "Carliah?" "Should I wash the apples?" I asked. Daddy smiled. "Yes Carliah, of course. Just a quick rinse. But you don't have to cut them up." "Okay!" I said, inflecting my voice as positively as I could to avoid my embarrassment. And disappointment. I had just convinced myself that my clean diaper was cozy. I did as I was told for the apples. I did not do as I was told earlier about my accident. About how it was getting warmer and I needed to be responsible. Instead, I sat down on the couch. I'll tell you that as soon as I did, I was no longer sad that I'd ruined a clean diaper. It felt good. It wouldn't last long, of course, Daddy was right there and would smell it, surely. Honestly, it was a perfect diaper. Not enough pee or poop to leak, but just enough that I couldn't forget it. You could say that an incontinent lass like me has developed her own, refined tastes. I'd really be like this all day every day if I could. With every bite of my toast I wormed my but into the couch a little more, squishing it further. If Daddy wasn't there, I'd make rubbies for sure. But he wouldn't allow it. He wasn't cross, but he was more in the mood for a lecture than indulgence. I expected him to give me a lecture about how I was supposed to get used to changing it myself this summer when he caught me. But he didn't catch me. We finished our breakfasts. He got on his phone and read emails or texts, I couldn't tell which. When I was done eating, he took our plates away. While he was in the kitchen I snuck a few rubbies in. Just a little. When I heard his footsteps again I stopped quickly, but the feeling was too good. I brought my heel against the crotch of my diaper and dug it in. I examined my split ends while gently rocking on my foot. I assumed it was change-time when he came by to kiss me on the head, but once again, he didn't lift my shirt and he did not begin to sniff around. Instead, he went back upstairs to get ready for work. I watched him disappear. Then I mounted the couch's armrest. I rode it almost all the way until I had an orgasm. But Daddy's feet appeared at the top of the stairs and I had to throw myself off on the couch. My diaper didn't feel so good anymore; the motion on the couch had distended and mushed it further. But I figured Daddy was taking me up to the bed and towel in just a moment, so it didn't matter. "Watcha doing?" he asked. He stopped beside the couch. He could probably see my diaper, but it didn't matter now. I was kinda hoping for that change. "Nothin. Still sleepy." "Okay. You'll remember to look at the chore list we made last night, right?" "Yes Daddy." "And I'll be home for lunch, as usual." "Yes Daddy." He took a step around the couch. I was sure he was going to lift his shirt off of me and patt my bum. But he didn't. He pulled my hair aside and gave me a big wet kiss on the cheek. "Anything else, honey?" "Hm?" "Are you all good?" I don't know how long it took me to respond. It felt like forever. But since he gave me another kiss, it couldn't have been that long. "I'm good, Daddy," I said. And then he turned and left out the door, smiling at me as he shut it and locked it behind him. To say that I was quite in shock was an understatement. Sure, the poop in my diaper wasn't the biggest ever, but it wasn't nothing. It was definitely poop and there was no way that Daddy would have missed it. It had been almost an hour since he'd grabbed my wrist beside the bed too, and he always checks me more than that. And then I realized that he knew. Of course he knew. And I lied. And he knew I lied. I ran upstairs and got my phone. It was a weird feeling, to move quickly with that much stuff smushed in there, but trust me, I've felt weirder. I found my phone under the covers and texted him. "Daddy," I wrote. "I messed up." "I just thought you were going to change it yourself." "But it's messsyyyyyyy," she said. "I think you can handle it." "Daddy!" "Daddy what?" "Daddy please?" Daddy came back in and marched up the stairs. I got the towel out for him, as well as the wipes and a new diaper. He put the diaper back in the drawer and procured a thinner one. "I want a thick diaper," I said, sucking my thumb. He batted my hand away. There was no time to find a pacifier, but he did scan the bed for one closeby anyway. "You're going to get a thinner diaper. If you leak, you're in trouble." "But I have to wait until you get home for lunch!" "Only if you don't change it yourself." There was no more discussion. I submitted to his wipes. He told me he was disappointed that I lied, and that we'd have a discussion about it later. He also reminded me of how much cream he'd needed to use last summer, and how much I whined about the rash. I took it all in silence. Soon enough, I was back in a thin diaper and alone until lunch. I was clean. I know what you'll think about this next part. You're going to say...Carliah, that's not real. You're going to say, Carliah, you're only five-foot-two. You didn't have steak and bloody marys, you didn't eat a whole damn piggy for dinner the night before. You even pooped twice yesterday – once around breakfastime, and once right after Daddy put you in a diaper after your shower (because that's how it goes sometimes). You might say, well... maybe this part is reasonable. Maybe it wasn't that much today, at breakfast, and maybe it wasn't that bad overnight too. Your Daddy wasn't late for work and didn't lose that much sleep, so maybe what happened next was not just reasonable, but predictable. All I can tell you is that I'm too little to know for sure. I don't know where the best place on the beach is to build a sandcastle. I don't, at the drop of a hat, know where the best gas station is to fill up a car in the city. I haven't, in fact, memorized the decision tree in the picture book so as to avoid all of the trap doors to an OOPSIE outcome. I'm a baby and shit happens. In fact, my opinion was that I was in the clear. I had, after all, filled my diapers quite hard that morning. Things were moving, and likely had moved. Prospects were as good as any. Chance of showers: minimal. Tornado warning? Pssh. Carliah was smooth sailing. Did Daddy give me a thinner diaper? Sure. Was I in trouble? Yeah, I was in trouble. But Daddy might forget. And Daddy didn't know that I'd got 95% of the way to orgasm on the couch. No permission. So I dodged most of the trouble anyway. The chores I had to do involved some errands. Cucumbers, more hand soap, more buttcream (always embarrassing to buy). Go to FedEX to get some postal thingy printed. Go pick out a card for Daddy's sister's birthday. There were other things. Phone calls about the house I had to make. And he wanted me to do some research on a vacation for the summer. But I figured that since my diaper was clean and dry, and thin to boot, and because the messes had just happened, that the best time of any to get out and about was right away. I said before I was bad at being incontinent. That I run on fumes. Honestly I don't know what else I could have done. Sometimes you're just toast. I took an Uber to the farthest place, which was the FedEx store. I got that taken care of, but while I was waiting I did a self check and rats, I was peed. Not too bad. I checked my bag just in case, and saw that I hadn't brought a diaper change. This didn't worry me. I often do that. Daddy never takes me out without one, but I often dip out without a dip. Especially on days like this, when the pee and poop came with the early birds. I went to a Hallmark to get a card. I started to feel something. It can sometimes be like that. Usually it's more like it was when I was grabbing the apples. When I have no idea I'm about to mess until it's in the diaper and still coming out. Sometimes, though, I get a tease. And sometimes it's a lie. I can't tell you how many diapers I've ruined going to the potty at the slightest feeling down there. It turns out to just be my period or my tummy or just, idk, the weird feelings you get just cause you're old. Or horniess. I've legitimately mistaken the feral need to fuck, so serious and debilitating that it feels like anxiety or a cramp, and sat on the potty because of it. I don't really know. Maybe it's just because I've had so little success pooping on the potty that I just don't know what normal, potty trained people feel like when they have to go. I think it's supposed to feel like what it feels like when a cock is coming out of your ass. Sorry. I know those of you anal fuckers probably think of it the other way. That a slipping cock feels like shitting. But I associate these things the opposite way, for obvious reasons. So I had a feeling. I thought it was horniness or the eggs. I suppose since I have ovaries, those two concepts aren't so different. I picked out a card without too much worry. I even squatted down to inspect the lowest ledge in the display. I worried more about the waistband of my pants and the sound of the crinkles than what was going on in my tum-tum. The feeling came and went, came and went. I trickled pee into the diaper, as usual, but nothing really progressed on the other end. In retrospect, I have to be a toddler – at best – to not have realized what was coming. Sometimes context, such as my messy morning, can be deceptive. Sometimes it might be better to think less, to understand less. My bottom made the need abundantly clear as I was about two back in the line to check out at Hallmark. It surged all of a sudden, like snow suddenly breaking off a roof. Like when you tip the cereal box too far to one side and the log jam breaks and the Lucky Charms all come cascading out. It was lucky. It was a miracle I caught it and clenched at all. More pee came out but I held my bum tight. I bit my lip and almost bent in half the card I wanted to buy. I looked behind me and saw a yoga mom idling through her phone, blissfully unaware of the jeopardy my diaper was in. I looked ahead, and an older lady was paying for her card in cash. Worse, she was paying not just in cash, but in exact cash. A coin rolled off the table onto the floor and the old lady looked at it wearily until the patron behind her stepped forward to pick it up. The situation was laughably hopeless. I almost laughed. There was no way I was paying without losing control. Daddy is gonna get hard when he hears about this. I thought about the edge of the couch, but I remembered that the diaper he gave me was small. And it wasn't close to lunch. And I was over a mile from home. It was getting warm. I still had chores to do. The feeling was a bit like trying to balance a basketball on your index finger. Drop it and...boom. Specifically, the feeling was a bit like trying to balance a basketball on your finger when you've never actually successfully balanced it before. So yeah. All it took was someone bursting through the automatic doors to make me drop the ball. They came in, turned, and shouted at someone idling in a car outside. Like any normal human being, I turned my head to see what was happening. I pooped my diaper for the third time since midnight. A man stepped up to counter and waved me over. "I can help you at this register, ma'am." The old lady was gone. It was still coming. I walked over. "Can you give it to me so I can scan it?" he asked me. Still coming. "Oh, yeah." The yoga mom was behind me. Really closely for some reason. "Cash or credit?" It's like my diaper is growing a rudder. "Credit." "Okay, whenever you're ready." Still coming. Right? No, all done. Oh. Wait. Definitely still coming. "You can remove your card, ma'am." Ma'am! Ha! No. No I'm never going to be a ma'am. I walked home. It felt too disrespectful to get into an uber. I carried my printout from FedEx and my Hallmark card and I passed right by the grocery store. I'd do those chores later. I texted Daddy, but he was busy and did not reply. Daddy was right, it was getting warm. The sun was beating down on me and my bloated diaper. I tried to stand away from people at crosswalks, but they didn't know to avoid me and found their way beside me more than usual. I hoped that the wind would waft my scent away. Or that they'd blame it on a dog or the sewer. I couldn't decide whether to hurry or go slow. I wanted to get home as fast as possible, but I also didn't want to pass in front of other pedestrians. I preferred to let them pass me. But there were always more coming out of shops and around corners. Walking fast meant it squished more. Walking slow meant I was in the hot sun longer. About halfway home I was sweating so much I was sure I was leaking. The mess in my diaper seemed to heat up my groin until it almost became claustrophobic. I realized that I was waddling and tried to correct my gait, but after a few blocks I gave up. I realized that when I got home, I had nowhere to go. I still had chores around the house. But what was I going to do? Stay standing the whole time until Daddy came home? Or sit down in this hot mess? I wanted Daddy! I texted him again. No reply. Someone bumped into me and I bit my lip. Was it possible to run away from my own butt? "Daddy I'll be in all the trouble in the world but you have to meet me at home now and change my diaper!" "I'll do no cummies for a week! I'll let you spank me bunches and bunches. But I need a new diaper soooooo bad." Finally I made it home. A part of me was mad at Daddy. Still no reply! I took off all my clothes and checked my pants to see if there had been a leak. There wasn't. I looked in the mirror and got turned on and I hated it. There was no Daddy to do anything about it and I'd ruin the couch if I did my favorite thing again. Gahh! Daddy called me. "Daddy!" I yelled into the phone. "Are you home?" "No." "Are you coming home?" "Carliah. I stepped outside. Carliah. No. Please listen. You have to do it." "You don't understand I had a..." "Carliah..." "Daddy PLEASE!" "Carliah, let me talk. Or it really will be big trouble. Do you understand?" "Yes Daddy." "You've done it yourself for years. You know many people who do it themselves. You have incontinent friends who change it themselves. You can do it too. I know you can." "But Daddy I have you!" "Mhm. And you also have trouble." "That's good I understand any kind of trouble but..." "This is the trouble. The kind of trouble involved in growing up. You're changing it yourself, Carliah. No, I know you made a big mess. Of course I love you. But I'm not coming home from lunch. Do you understand? Carliah? Carliah?" *** Peter arrived home at approximately six in the evening. He hadn't heard a peep from Carliah all day since she hung up the phone. He wasn't mad. No, far from it. He was curious. He didn't mind that she probably resented him, and that it would be absurd for her to resent him. After all, him making a twenty minute drive to wipe her butt, wolf down lunch, and drive back to work every day was a bit absurd. It was just so hot. It pained him not to do it. He really did like that he always changed her. She was so...dependent that way. But it was unsustainable. Both time wise and health wise. She needed to relearn the responsibility to clean up her own messes now and then. Not always, but often. He would have work trips. He would leave her on her own. She would need to deal with it. What was he saying? Carliah was over thirty. Carliah was fine. Carliah was getting spanked big time. She was getting soaped and he was going to make her use her mouth to great lengths to apologize to him. So he opened the door with a devilish grin. What he saw made his jaw drop. There was Carliah, her breasts out, her face panting and delirious. Her long dark hair was disheveled. She was wearing nothing but one sock and a diaper. Not even a bra. Her glasses were hung down to the very edge of her nose, and it hardly seemed to matter because her eyes were glazed and cross eyed. "Carliah!" She was perched atop the armrest of the couch. On foot on the couch, the other hanging off. Both hands pressed against her crotch. Sweat dripped down and Peter noticed her hair was stuck to her face. His eyes, stuck for a little while on her erect, raw nipples, made their way down to her hands. She had changed her diaper. No...she hadn't. He looked closer at the waistband. The waistbands. The many, many, many waistbands upon waistbands. "Carliah..." Carliah didn't acknowledge him. She rocked back and forth. What he smelled made his eyes go wide. Peter pushed through it and stepped up to the edge of the couch. Carliah was almost taller this way. She rocked back and forth, the massive balloon of plastic around her waist squeaking and crinkling as she moved. He closed his eyes and kissed her. Her mouth and breath were warm. "Daddy," she whispered, almost as quiet as a breath. She cracked a weak, delirious smile. Like she knew what was about to happen to her. Like she understood that the only place deeper and more full of poop than the septupled diaper she was wearing was the hole of trouble she'd just landed in. "I put new diapers on, Daddy. Like you said. Am I a good baby?" "You are...a baby," he told her.
  5. I'm asking this because I've done this before and will do so again. Has anyone else done this and if so what are your experiences.
  6. DISCLAIMER: IMPORTANT! PLEASE READ! If you have not read my first story: Little Beginnings: New Life - I HIGHLY suggest you do so! This story will make a lot more sense if you do. It’s where the main character is first introduced and you and learn a lot about the little community I have created. ooOoo Chapter 1: Three Months Before The moment she stepped out of the cab, her skin began to burn. Luna groaned, enduring the full force of the simmering summer heat. This was the exact reason she never wanted to come to the South. There wasn’t anything she hated more than the sun, and by the end of the day, she’d be as red as a lobster. Her father always said it was their Irish blood and she’d roll her eyes in return. No shit sherlock. They were as white as the freakin moon. For sure, she’d stand out among the throng of tanned bodies, which in her case, was not a good thing. She wasn’t sure how long she would stay but Luna had gotten a credible lead on her dad. One she couldn’t ignore. And if the authorities were still scouring Raleigh, it would only take them hours to realize that she was no longer there. “Hello, Miss?” the driver grumbled, knocking her from her thoughts. “You gonna pay me or what? I’m not gonna sit here all day.” He was a grumpy old man who’d only reluctantly driven her all the way out here from North Carolina after promising a generous pay. She’d had to leave earlier than expected and while inconvenient, made her aware of how comfortable she’d become. Never did she stay in one place for more than a few months. It wasn’t safe. “O-of course,” she blushed as she fumbled around in her wallet and pulled out one hundred dollars for the driver. Despite his less-than-stellar personality, he knew when to stay quiet and not ask questions. That was good enough for her. She carried only the bag on her back and money to last her at least another year and a half. After that, she wasn’t sure what she would do. Luna watched the car take off down the dirt path before finally exhaling the breath she’d been holding in the entire ride. There was an eerie silence. A sort of calm before the storm. Luna had only ever known noise, growing up in the heart of Manhatten. Her father explained the importance of hiding in plain sight. Nobody would expect them to be in bustling New York City, a place known for the attention and spotlight. It was perfect… until it wasn’t. Now, looking straight ahead, Luna wondered if she had the right place. The roof of the red farmhouse was dilapidated and the land looked absolutely dead. Anyone who happened upon the house would believe it was abandoned. Though that was the point. No one was supposed to know this place existed. Luna had only found it due to her father. He was the reason she’d not been caught yet. The girl walked ahead with a renewed sense of purpose. The boards below her feet creaked and she rapped her knuckle, three than two than six times, on the faded white door. She clutched a swiss army knife in her other hand, hidden in her pocket. “Always be prepared.” Her father taught her. “Never hesitate.” She was literally in the middle of nowhere-bumfuck-South Carolina. No one would see her if she was kidnapped. No one would hear her if she screamed. Being vulnerable was something she did not like. The door opened a crack and dark brown eyes peered at her. Her hand tightened around the knife and heart frantically raced. “Who sent you?” it was a woman’s voice who asked. “Martin Creevy.” she used her father’s alias. “I assume you’ve heard of him before.” Oh, the woman definitely had by the way her eyes lit up. The door closed in her face and for a moment, Luna thought she’d been turned away. However, there was a click and suddenly it opened again, wider. “We’ve been expecting you,” she said, motioning with her hand. “C’mon in.” Despite the raised hairs on the back of her neck, she stepped over the threshold into the house. There was no turning back, only moving forward. She never could stop moving, searching. Not until he was found. The door slammed shut and Luna jumped, spinning around. She watched the woman re-chain the door and turn the several deadbolts. From the outside, it looked like nothing. Her eyes wandered around, trying to adjust to the darkness. They were in a narrow hallway, with no lights and no other exit. A few pictures adorned the walls and they stood on a dusty old rug. Her nose wrinkled at the smell of mothballs and she leaned on each leg, testing the uneven floor. “You don’t think much of it.” Her eyes flashed back to the woman, who stared intently at her. “It’s just… different.” her bow-shaped lips pursed together. “Where do we go?” “Down.” “Down?” Luna didn’t think she meant literally, but she did. She watched as the woman bent down and peeled back the rug, revealing the wooden floor and… a hatch? “We take our security very seriously. There’s a ladder going down,” she explained, unlocking and lifting up the door. “You go first. I’ll follow.” ooOoo It was a tiny house. That, Luna had been sure of when she saw it from outside but inside, down here, was big. She supposed the basement would be large but not this big.They stood in the kitchen, which had no wall and lead right into the dining room where there was a small wooden table. Unable to help but gap, eyes going wide, the woman laughed, coming from behind her. “Don’t keep your mouth open too long. You’re gonna catch flies.” Her mouth instantly snapped shut and a furious blush spread across her face. Her blue eyes drifted over the woman beside her as she could see her properly for the first time in the light. She had a heart-shaped face and kind but weary brown eyes, that looked to have seen too much pain over the years. And despite her smooth, unwrinkled brown skin, her hair, which Luna could imagine must have been dark black at one point, now greyed. A few loose curls hung in her face and her lips formed a thin smile. “You look like your father.” Her brows furrowed together. She knew her father? “You have the same face but your eyes, they are exactly like your mother’s.” Her lips parted and she stilled. Her only reaction was to blink. “Call me Sue,” the woman offered no other explanation. “I always wondered when we would meet.” Still, she couldn’t bring herself to react. “This is the MacIntosh Safe House. I suspect this is the first one you have come across?” It was. Before, she was squatting in random abandoned buildings, resting while she had the chance. She knew there were safe houses, just didn’t know how to find them. “Sit down, Hon,” the wom- Sue, headed toward the kitchen cabinets, searching through them. “You’re exhausted. I’ll make you a snack.” Her feet moved on her own accord and sat down on the stool at the island table. Sue chopped an apple into slices. MacIntosh. She gulped, trying to find the courage to speak but was, she felt… Luna didn’t know how she felt. The strong confident girl from a few hours ago was gone and didn’t know what had happened to her. “My name is-” “I don’t want to know your real name.” she interrupted, not looking up from the cutting board. “Do you believe my name is actually Sue?” The girl did believe, well, at least up until now. “Charlie.” she made up on the spot. “Call me Charlie.” “Nice to meet you, Charlie.” The name sounded strange as the woman referred to her as it but Luna knew it was better this way. There was nothing to tie her to here. Well, except the driver but she doubted he’d remember. “I’m sure you have many questions and I’ll wait to answer them until you meet the others. It’s not common that we have a new person.” “The others? Oh, and I’m not planning on staying long. I’m just passing through.” She passed the plate across the table with the freshly cut apple slices and smiled. “Of course, you aren't.” The woman didn’t seem to believe her. However, the girl nibbled on the apple, realizing for the first time just how hungry she was. “There are six other people staying here. Three are out right now and the others are in the next room.” Glancing at the doorway in the dining room, she could hear the faintest sound. Was that a tv? There were a few voices. “Your father always bragged about how smart you were and never did I not believe him. You found us, which is not easy to do.” she leaned back against the oak cabinet. “How long ago did he go missing?” “Two years ago.” she ignored the heavy feeling in her heart. Realistically, he’d been preparing her for this since the moment she could walk and talk; but since it had happened, she’d never had time to fully comprehend. “He told me to run and not look back if they ever found us. He said that if he was captured then he’d find his way back to me someday. I believed him for a long time. Now, I’m less optimistic.” She sucked the tart flavor off of her fingers. The apples were gone. She’d eaten them all. “I didn’t believe it when he first told me about the communities, age play, and all of that stuff.” her lips curled up. “If the government knew, why hadn’t they put a stop to it? Innocent people are being kidnapped. My mother was kidnapped. Now my father. It made no sense.” At least, it used to not make sense. But now she realized, anything the government profited off of made perfect sense. Kidnapping defenseless people, stripping away their rights, all for what? To create a better nation? Her parents knew the price they would pay for speaking out about the secret age play communities and the government-sanctioned kidnappings. They just didn’t expect it would go this far- being on the run, living in hiding. And her mother especially didn’t expect she would get pregnant. Now she was destined for a life on the run. That is unless she wanted to get taken and forced back into diapers, made to shit and piss herself, play mindless baby games, and be just some sick couple’s object of amusement. That’s what had happened to her parents, she was sure of it. The only other option was that they were dead. Luna would gladly choose the second option if it came to it. No way would they take her alive. If Sue noticed the faraway look in her eyes, she didn’t comment. Instead, she took the dirty plate, dumping it in the sink. “Why don’t we go say hello to the others.” “Now?” she stammered. Growing up homeschooled, her interaction with people was severely limited. Being alone was what she preferred. It's what she was best at. “Yes, there’s just one thing you have to know." "What?" "Try not to stare.” “Stare?” “Mary gets mad and Tina can't help what was done to her.” Luna didn’t know what that was supposed to mean and tried to shrug off the uncomfortable feeling, but it just wouldn’t go away. ooOoo A/N: Hello everyone! I promised I would post soon and I did! I hope you all enjoyed this first chapter and you may notice two familiar names :). If it doesn’t make sense at first, trust me it will soon! I will be alternating, telling Luna’s (Lulu) story from before she was taken and after in Henderson. I will touch a bit on the hospital but it will mostly be her life after. I should update again soon but I hope you all enjoy!
  7. I have wondered what it would be like to give a blow job while pooping a diaper. Has anyone done it? What was it like?
  8. Chapter 1: The Cuckhold “Ugh, Charles. What the fuck are YOU doing back this early”, Callie said breathlessly as she looked at him with disgust. She was straddling a big muscular dude reverse cowboy so she was facing the door. He could see she was sweaty and her pussy was red and dripping around his huge rock hard cock. He had come home and heard her moaning loudly in his bedroom. They were on his bed. His sheets. A picture of him and her together taken last summer on the nightstand. “Oh my… oh god… Cass… I …oh GOD!” he stammered, in shock, tears coming to his eyes. “Oh shut the fuck up!... ugh!”, she said as she she slid him out of her and sat on the bed beside the guy. “Another fucking ruined orgasm because of YOU!”. “Get the fuck out. I’m busy here.”, she rubbed the guys rock hard 9” cock as she said this. “Go stay in a hotel tonight!”. The look of distain on her face hit him in the gut. “But… It’s my apartment..”, he spit out. “Jesus, do want me to get Dan here to fuckin throw you out?!”, she spit. “GO!”. The “dude” was laying there with a wet throbbing hardon, looking at him with an expression that said, “Try me, pussy”. He turned around and stumbled out of the apartment building and down to the parking lot crying. He started his car and drove aimlessly until he pulled into the nearest shitty low budget motel. He sat in his car in the motel parking lot weeping. ---- He checked into his room and laid on the bed in the fetal position. He got under the covers and set his alarm for work tomorrow. He was crying. The scene played out over and over in his head. He thought about how their relationship had deteriorated over the last year and how she had become more and more mean and dismissive of him. She kept reminding him how she was out of his league and how he was lucky she ever talked to him. He felt like such a loser. He didn’t do anything!! He just rolled over like a wimpy little cuck. Let Dan continue fucking her in HIS bed…. Oh god… he cried about what a loser he was. Then his mind wandered. He pictured her sweaty and writhing, riding his big cock, until she came to a screaming orgasm – something he had not been able to do for her for the last year with his pathetic little 3” micro-penis. He masturbated his little cucked baby dick furiously in the fetal position picturing this until he jizzed all over himself and fell a sleep in the seedy hotel bed. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 2 – The “Problem” When he woke up the next morning and felt all clammy and caught a strong wiff of pee smell all around him Oh shit!. WTF??? He had pissed the hotel bed in his sleep. He realized the maid was knocking at the door and he was an hour late for work… the alarm was beeping but he didn’t hear it. “Clean the room, Sir?”, the maid said through the door. He was panicking. “OK…. Uhm, ahh, please give me another half hour please!”, he yelled. He stood there horrified. The events of last night came back to him. He felt like such a pathetic little man-boy. “oh God…”, the thought. He jumped into the shower and got ready for work… he didn’t want to check out as he didn’t know if he’d be going home tonight or not. His mind told him “It’s “Dan’s” house now you little cuck loser. He would just have to leave the wet sheets for the maid and hope she wasn’t around when he got back from work so he wouldn’t have to feel the shame. --- He couldn’t concentrate on work. He was at his desk just replaying everything that had happened in the last 12 hrs. His life had been turned upside-down. What the hell was he going to do? It was completely fucked. His mind was a jumble. His phone rang suddenly. He felt a squirt of pee shoot into his briefs. “Oh my god, no…” he thought. He answered,… it was his boss asking him to come into his office immediately . He nervously walked to the bosses office hoping that his briefs had absorbed the pee and that none could be seen on the front of his tan kakis … he’d been wearing the same cloths since yesterday as well and he thought he could sense that everyone noticed. Charlene, the bosses secretary looked at him with distain as he approached. “He’ll see you now”. She looked him up and down and he felt his baby dick shrink further into his belly at her disgust at his pathetic-ness. He walked into his bosses office. “Look Andrews”, he said sourly, “An hour late?... pfft… You know I’d LOVE to fire you, right?... PLEASE give me one more excuse”. He stood their being berated for the next 5 minutes. Drifting off and thinking about the events of last night. “Are you listening?!?”, his boss raised his voice sharply. He started. He felt a small amount of poop slip out of his asshole and lodge itself between his cheeks. “Oh Jesus Christ”, he thought, panicking. “Ok, uhm Dean, I’m super sorry…. Uh I have a teams meeting in 3 minutes… uh.. I have to go.”, he stammered. He slipped out of the office quickly his boss exclaiming surprisedly…. He made his way to the men’s bathroom, trying to clench his butt cheeks together. He ran into a stall and pulled his pants down … his knees trembling together, little dick trembling between his skinny legs. He grabbed some toilet paper and wiped up the poo between his bum cheeks… it had already stained his briefs and he hoped no one would notice the smell. He sat down on the toilet, his head in his hands and wondered what the hell was going on ?... How could his life get any worse? Just then, his phone dinged with a text, he squealed a bit with a girly noise, a bit more poo dropped into the toilet. It was a text from Cassie. “Hey. I’m gonna move in with Dan now, obviously. I need the apartment for a couple more days. I’m away this afternoon… you can come by and get some stuff then. I’m taking your TV, stereo and bed with me. Please be gone when I get back tonight. Also Dan fucked me so hard I think it started my period!... I need you to go pick me up some tampons and leave them here for me on the counter.” She accompanied this with a selfie photo of her and Dan naked in his bed. She was rubbing Charles’s toothbrush on Dan’s wet dick… getting his cum all over it. Charles’s little pathetic dick got hard seeing this and he felt completely humiliated. He snuck out of work early and headed to the CVS to get Cassie’s tampons before heading home.
  9. “SPIDER!” my little sister Annabelle screamed at the top of her lungs. “STOP SCREAMING!” I screamed back at her before running over and killing the damn spider. “Look, just go downstairs and look through some of the stuff down there!” Annabelle was 8 years old and had a very high pitched scream that I absolutely could not stand. So far that had been her 4th time screaming her head off and I would rather clear out this attic myself than to hear her scream near me one more time. Why are we cleaning the attic? Well because we're selling my grandmas house. About 5 months ago my grandma got really sick and died just 2 weeks later. It was a very sad time for us all. Anyway, my mom couldn't afford to keep both our hose and my grandma's house so she decided to get everything out and go through it. Some stuff we are selling, some were giving to goodwill, and some were keeping. My sister was in tears after I yelled at her but what do you expect? A 16-year-old brother can only handle so much screaming. But Annabelle did climb down the ladder leading to the attic crying so it wouldn't be so bad. Mom might be a little mad at me for yelling at her but even she knows how much of a pain it can be to hear my sister scream. I was about to get back to taking stuff down the ladder when I suddenly heard something slam shut. Looking back I could see the door to the attic had closed shut. Shit! I went over and tried to reopen the door but it wouldn't budge. Whoever made it, made it so that it can only be opened from the outside. “Perfect,” I whisper as I pulled out my phone to text my mom. She had a few things to do today so she left the two of us here to clear out the attic. ‘Hi mom, Annabelle’s screaming was getting on my nerves so I sent her downstairs. She must have accidentally knocked the ladder and now I'm stuck up here.’ I texted my mom. ‘Ok, I'm almost done with my shopping and I'll be back in 30 minutes.” she texted me back. great, stuck up here with nothing to do. My grandma doesn't have internet and my phone doesn't have any apps so I'm already bored. Not long after that, I hired the phone ring downstairs. Most likely mom checking on Anna. I take a look over at the boxes still up here and I decided to open a few and see whats inside. Maybe I could find something cool and call dibs on it. the first box had nothing but clothes in it, the next had old photos, and finally the last I checked actually had stuff in it! Most of it was old junk that I wouldn't have any use for. But it was still neat to look at some of it. Then I noticed something, a little pink box. I grabbed it and just looked at it. Out of everything in the box this one looked a little out of place. As I opened it, I let out a small giggle. It was a pink diaper with the word ‘princess’ on the front. On the back was just a large red hart. “Why was this up here?” I asked myself before tossing the diaper and continued to look through my grandma's stuff. But then I heard something, a small rustling sound, was it a rat!? I quickly turn around to see nothing. Then I hear the rustling again and I turned to look at the attic door. But again nothing was there, well except for the diaper. Just then I realized the rustling sound must have been the diaper. but what I didn't realize was it wasn't in the spot I tossed it at. I decided I should actually pick it up and put it back in the box before mom gets back. As I walk over and try to pick it up however the diaper suddenly leaps into the air and clamped onto my face! What the fuck! I immediately start fracking out as I try to pull the diaper off my face when I suddenly fall down. “Ow,” I say as I rub my head and release the diaper is off my face but notice it's trying to make its way into my pants! I immediately grab onto it and tried as hard as I could to pull on it, but It just would not budge! I might be scrawny but I can't be this week! But my hands slip and the diaper went right into my pants. I quickly stand up as I feel the diaper moving around in my underwear! I immediately pull down both my pants and underwear just as the diaper tapes itself onto me and started releasing a thick pink smoke! “What the hell!” I yell out before I start coughing and I close my eyes. With my eyes closed, I didn't see my clothes began to disappear and soon replaced by different clothes. When I finally was able to open my eyes I screamed as I looked down. I now had knee-length socks and black shoes. My pants were gone and I was now wearing a pink frilly skirt that only covered half of the pink diaper. My shirt was replaced with a short-sleeved pink shirt that didn't even cover my bellybutton with a red vest red ribbons over it. And if I had a mirror I would see that my dark hair has turned into a light pink color with a small ow sicking out the side of my head! “W-w-what the…” I said weakly as my body starts shaking slightly. "What the hell was going on here!" I then began pulling at everything, trying as hard as I can to remove any of it! “You can't take me off.” I heard someone say and I immediately jumped and began looking around. “Who said that?” I asked as I saw no one else around me. “I am Pardie,” the voice said again. “Where are you!” I asked. “Look down.” the voice said and when I did all I could see was the diaper. “What do you mean? All I see is the diaper.” I tell the voice. Suddenly the diaper began to swell and get bigger forcing my legs apart! “I am the diaper.” the voice said before deflating back to the original size. (the name pardie is diaper with the letters changed around) “T-this can't be happening,” I say as I really start to freak out. “Ow, but it is princess, and now it's time for you to save your kingdom,” Pardie told me and suddenly the diaper began letting out even more smoke. “NOT AGAIN!” I yelled as I closed my eyes and began coughing again. When the smoke finally subsided and I was finally able to breathe again I opened my eyes to see I was no longer in the attic anymore. “WHAT THE HELL!” I screamed as I began to freak out. “THIS CAN'T BE HAPPENING! I was now inside an empty room with only a single window and a door. “Welcome to you castle princess,” Pardie said to me. “IM A BOY NOT A PRINCESS!” I screamed at the diaper and realized I'm losing my mind. There's no way I'm screaming at a talking diaper, or magically been taken somewhere else. “This has to be a dream. Ya, I must have slipped when I was picking up the diaper and hit my head.” I told myself. “You still don't believe this is real?” pardie asked. “Of course not!” I screamed. “Who in their right mind would think diapers could talk!” Suddenly I felt the diaper suddenly get really tight as it began shrinking! At first, it wasn't that bad, hell I figured it would just pop off as soon as it got small enough. But no, it soon felt like there was a vise clamped onto my nuts! Soon I was screaming in pain. “Do you believe this is real now princess?” pardie asked. “YES!” I screamed just wanting the pain to be over and thankfully the diaper went back to normal. “What is going on here?” I asked the diaper as soon as the pain in my crotch went away. “You are here to save your kingdom princess.” pardie told me. “What kingdom?” I asked and suddenly heard screaming coming from outside the window. I immediately ran over to the window and looked outside and my jaw dropped. I was in some sort of tower looking down at a vast beautiful city. But with a closer look, I could see people running around screaming as buildings were lit on fire. Then I saw the case of the fire, a large lion with goat horns was breathing fire! “Princes, it's time for you to save your kingdom,” Pardie told me as I nearly pissed my diaper. ____________ hi! ^.^ I hope you like this first chapter. I've been pretty busy so I haven't had much time to write but I've been wanting to post this for a while. I want to give a shout out to skipek1 (from DeviantArt) who asked me to make a transformation story. and to Redwelch2222 who helped me with a little bit of the world building that will be in the next chapter. this is my first real original story not based on anything already. hope you all like it!
  10. "I can't believe mom is making me take you on this stupid doll factory tour!" Cody whined. His sister Amanda says "Well I been wanting to go to this for awhile plus they got new dolls being made and it's a huge surprise. Something thats never been done!" They both start walking with the lady of rhe tour. Cody bored decides to go on his own tour. He quickly evades the group and his sister. His sister is too focused to on tour to notice he's gone. Cody finds a room labeled "keep out secret testing in progress". Cody intrested goes in and it's super dark but can hear machines going. The lights then come on and couldn't believe his eyes "he saw life like dolls same size of him but they were robots looked so real like humans. They were all in packaging except one was ripped open. "I wonder who opened this" Cody confused. Then from behind two arms grab him its the doll that was missing from the box "well well well looks like I found my replacement. No way I'm going to be somebody's baby dolly but I'm sure you'll be perfect for them" The doll takes him to this slide and throws him down "have fun with your new life. I'm about to start my own new life" the doll chuckles. Cody slides down then lands on a conveyor belt. A robot size doll that's bigger then him scans him. "Hmm I don't remember boys being part of this baby doll project but I guess they are going for sissy baby. Well let's get you ready and set to go" The robot grabs Cody but before Cody could say anything she sticks a pacifier in his mouth. "Now now no talking back its time to put you in a nice thick diaper but first we got to shave you down there" The robot then shackles him down to a chair and a bunch of hands rip his clothes off leaving him butt naked. The robot then grabs him and puts him across his knee. Cody trys to fight but the robot spanks him on the butt. Cody crys and immediately stops moving. Now lets shave those boy bits. The razor comes down and shaves his balls, dick, and butt hole. "There thats better but I think I feel someone is getting hard we can't have that can we. Now I'm going to remove your pacifier and if you try to talk back it goes right back in". Cody complies with the robot then waits for his next fate. The robot grabs a baby bottle filled with a little of milk then grabs his dick then lubes it up. And starts milking Cody till he makes loads of cum in the bottle. Cody felt so good he couldn't fight back. His orgasm was so amazing but them the robot grabs a chastity cage for his small soft dick. "Now we can't have you playing with yourself. Your new owner will decide when to unlock you. So be a good baby" the robot then locks his dick up and feeds him the bottle full of his cum and milk. "You got to be big and strong so protein was important for your milk". Cody can't believe he just drank his own cum. The robot then gets a giant thermometer but this one wasn't for mouth it was for rectal. Cody whines "Hey come on please no not that! " before he could back away the robot flipped him on his back and stickes thermometer up his butt. Cody could feel his dick precumming from feeling the thermometer hit his prostate. "Let's see well you look pretty healthy but ewww gross. Seriously do you not wipe your butt or clean down in that butthole. No no you need to be cleaned but also taught a lesson". The robot reveals a enema bag then grabs a diaper. "It's time for you to get a first experience of using your diaper at least!". The robot sticks the enema up his butt then starts shooting the water up his butt. She then diapers him up and plants him on her knee. "Now show mommy what a good girl does in her diaper". Cody tried to hold it but his butthole failed and realized a toxic messy wet poopy into his diaper. Cody cried like a baby while the robot laughed and bounced him. "Get use to it. I'm sure your owner will enjoy you so much. You look so embarrassed and blush it's so cute!" The robot then changes his diaper and wipes his butt hole very well. Before she diapered him she slipped a suppository up his butt. Then gets him dressed. Putting a small skirt barely coveting his diaper. And a shirt that says sissy boy on it. She then carries him to a box and ties his hands and feet up. "Well it's been fun but let's show you off. I'm sure someone will buy you". She put him on a conveyor which leaded to a show room. Which everybody was starring at him laughing. They couldn't believe their eyes but that wasn't even worse part. His sister Amanda saw him and approached the box. "Hey il take him please". Cody then says "omg Amanda am I glad to see you. Hey you got to untie me from this and get me out of here and....*click*" Amanda took a picture with her phone. "Now listen here sissy diaper boy I'm now in charge and your going to do what I say from now on or I can send this to all your friends" Cody scared "come on Amanda you can't do this I'm your big brother. You cant... ugh..." Cody felt the suppository taking effect. He couldn't poop himself infront of his sister. His sister smiled and knew what he was about to do. "Well looks like the baby needs to go boom boom. Daww well you are wearing a diaper go ahead show your new big sister how to fill a diaper" she then hits record on her phone to capture everything. Cody let's out a huge fart then his diaper starts to drop down from all the poo entering his diaper. "Noo this can't be happening. Im not a baby." Cody whined. Amanda smiled "peeeyeww baby bro you sure know how to pack them diapers like a pro. Looks like I got a fun pic and a video too. Here's the deal if you don't want both of these out. I mean the video is going to be way worse then picture but your going to tell mom that you want to bond with me more by being my new diaper doll toy. And... wait what's this" Amanda spots a key on the box that reads "key to chastity cage" Amanda laughs "oh my gosh I heard about these. Wow now your really going to be all mine. If you ever want to wank your little wee wee off then I suggest you better listen to everything I say. Also we got to get home my friends are coming over and I can't wait to show them to you. Plus il need help changing that stinky diaper. Gosh who knew boys took big dumps"
  11. A/N: IMPORTANT TO NOTICE Hey all! I hope you're all doing well! Do not worry! I am still working on my other stories but had started this a while ago and felt like I should post it! Just a warning in the beginning that this story will contain a lot of non-con, sexual content and humiliation. If this makes you uncomfortable than I suggest you don't read it! I love seeing comments so I'd love to see everyone's comments! ooOoo Summary: When a young new independent journalist decides to write about something other than the typical run of the mill stories, she is introduced into a new life, just not in the way she expected. ooOoo Chapter 1: MommyslittleBiggurls.com 22 December 2021 Hello Friends! It sure has been a while! I hope you’re all doing well on this frosty morning. Here in Montana, we’re certainly going to have a white Christmas. Sugar and Cookie sure are excited to see Santa and have been extra careful to be good girls; always asking for the potty like good little girls, eating all of their veggies at dinner and making sure to drink all of their babas full of yummy milk! I’m sure you all are experiencing the same with your little ones at the moment, even the disobedient can’t ignore the happy cheer of Christmas. I really can’t believe it’s only been three months since we first adopted our newest little girl, Honey! Of course with new littles, it’s always an adventure and Sugar and Cookie are being the best big sisters they can be! It can be hard, especially around the holidays to deal with an un-regressed, naughty little so that brings me to the topic of today’s post: Punishments. If you're like me or are a new caregiver, it’s never easy training a new little and before they can be our sweet little babies, they will be literal demons! It is never fun but in order to nip that naughty behavior in the bum, punishment is required and it is not always as simple as quick spanking. Listed below, you will find three different punishments to try if you, like me, were at a loss. Punishments: Punishment 1: Corner time with a twist Depending on the severity of the naughty behavior, instruct your little one it's corner time for a certain amount of time. While many, if not all, will just find this incredibly boring and whine, there is a small twist. Listen carefully to these five steps: Take littles’ clothes away (that means no diapers/pullups/or undies as well!), Give a nice soapy cold enema to their bum-bum and insert a buttplug to ensure no dribbles Administer a firm spanking (I’ve found different objects such as a belt or hairbrush to be most effective!) Little will bend down or kneel in the corner with their bum-bum high in the air for everyone to see After a certain amount of time, if the little has not moved from their position, you will instruct the little to tell you what they did wrong and have them beg to release their bodily functions. If you are unsatisfied with their response, even more minutes will be added to corner time Punishment 2: Potty Time with Horsy Let’s get real, we’ve all struggled with littles refusing to go potty in their diapers or on the training toilet and it’s a pain to have to insert enemas and suppositories into screaming littles. That’s how I came up with horsy time. The rocking horse, while meant to be an object of amusement during playtime, can just as quickly be turned into an object of torture. What you need to do is listed below: The little will sit on the rocking horse in only their bottoms, whether that be a diaper or pull-up Place earphones on little and set to the wet diaper hypnosis Instruct the little to rock back and forth and do not stop no matter what and not to mess or wet themselves Plan a certain amount of time and come back when the time is up If the little is still rocking and is dry, they have earned the privilege to go potty. If not, horsy time is extended and the dirty diaper stays on another several hours The constant rhythmic motion combined with hypnosis at the same timing will put the littles right in the mood to have to relieve themselves. How they do it will no longer matter. The added pressure to keep a constant rocking in order to avoid further punishment will take a heavy toll on their mind as well and increase the need for positive behavior. Punishment 3: No Playtime with Teddy If you choose to allow your little to have any sexual release, this punishment can have a rewarding effect. As a human race, we are sexual beings but not everyone deserves or should have such an experience. Littles have gotten it into their minds that they should be allowed to have such experiences, but what do they know? They’re just littles. It is our job as caretakers to instruct and control their urges. If we leave them to their own devices, who knows what will happen? My little girls are allowed one play session a week with Mr. Teddy Bear to release all of their icky cummies by the hand of mommy and daddy. While Rosie and Cookie know being a good girl will lead to happy feelings, Honey is still learning. Orgasm and cum denial or “the tickles and ice cream dance” as we call it, are an excellent way to assert dominance and make them quickly realize who the real grownups are and who is in charge. Mittens or restraints are a must for untrained littles! You never know where their wandering hands will end up! Chastity belts are also a great device, especially if they get a little too excited during playtime and try humping (which is extremely discouraged!) IMPORTANT: It is important to enforce anything sexual is not allowed without the approval, observation, and act by grown-ups because you never know when littles might accidentally injure themselves! I hope you all enjoyed my little list and hopefully it helps you on your journey to having a regressed little! It may seem tough at times but we’ve all gone through it before (I currently am!) Stay tuned for next time and meanwhile, have a Merry Christmas! Love, Mommy Bree ooOoo The sound of the ding signaling the post had been successfully posted was a happy feeling to say the least. Unknown outside the world of ageplay, Bree Hawthorne was as famous as could be within the community. With over ten thousand followers and readers, people tuned in from all over the world to read about their simple little family. Being a blogger on top of a mommy had become her full time job and she didn’t regret a single second of it. She always knew she wanted to have a family and her love for blogging couldn’t have been a more perfect combination. There were so many who envied to fill the role of a Hawthorne little but only so few could actually meet the requirements. That’s why they had taken to unique means of obtaining their little girls. Kidnapping was a bit too harsh a term. They preferred adoption. Did the public need to know that? No. Would they ever find out? Probably not. Looking around outside the large glass windows, the only view for miles was farmland with snow capped mountains in the background. Bloomington, Montana was the perfect place to go to if one didn’t want to be found. They had the freedom to be who they were without any nosey neighbors disrupting their lives. Her husband, coming from old money, allowed them to own lavish homes around the country, buy the newest high-tech adult-baby equipment and pay off those they needed to stay quiet. Everything was as it should be. Everything would soon be perfect. They were our babydolls. Sugar, Cookie, Honey and- “Another post?” Jasper. At the sound of his deep voice, she spun around in the swivel chair. Face to face with her blonde, strong-jawed, blue eyed handsome husband. He was everything she dreamed of in a man. Strong, smart, caring, loyal. A great daddy to their three wonderful girls. What more could a person ask of a spouse? “Yes. I’ve finished just in time for… lunch!” she exclaimed, glancing at the time and shutting down the macbook. “Today’s post was about punishments and I gave the best examples of Honey. How is she doing this morning actually? The baby monitor on her end has been awfully quiet.” she asked, having been in the office the entire morning working. “Sleeping.” was his only response, scowling with his hand over his face. “Do I want to know what happened?” “No.” It was always a struggle to tame the girl and her rebellious behavior and silly dreams. Most often then not her bum was black and blue, littered with marks and bruises. How a five foot, one-hundred-twenty pound girl with not an ounce of body fat had managed to give them this much a fight, they did not know. While the little blonde fought they pushed back just as hard. She would break eventually. They all do. “Sugar and Cookie are in the playpen writing letters to Santa,” that made them crack a smile. “I can feed them while you handle, Honey? I may just take her over my knee again and that’s not what she needs at the moment.” Bree reached out, wrapping her arms around his neck as his face burrowed into her kinky black hair, placing a trail of kisses upon her chocolate colored skin. “So it’s my turn to play the bad mommy,” she mused. “Precisely.” her husband cracked a smile. “It feels so much longer than three months since we got her. Remember?” Oh, how could they forget…
  12. Law of the Diaper - Episode 2 - Part 1 Meliora Lady Meliora Van De Natte sighed heavily as she relieved herself, urine spiralling down her leg and onto the clay-tiled floor of the hall. She sat at a long table, with many other guests in attendance, including her distant cousin, the King, himself. The floor was sloped in a way that allowed people’s pee to flow into the middle, where they were promptly drained away. Despite this, the floor was still wet, and reflected the gold trim of the high-beamed roof. The chamber was grand, regal, and -- to Meliora at least -- a little over-pompous. And to consider, she thought, that those babies in the north believe us to be barbaric. Meliora didn’t much like the haughty nature of the court, but barbarity? Ha! She scoffed at the very thought of it. The King was in the middle of another one of his showy-speeches, “...for many a year now. To think! Back then we were but insects on the world stage…” and Meliora was getting tired of it. As much as she detested these things however, they were necessary to keep the king satisfied, especially as she needed to talk to him with great urgency. But, the King was in the middle of making himself look good, so she decided to concentrate on her food, it was the only good thing about these feasts anyway. Sitting cosily on her silver platter, was a selection of smoked vegetables, steaming roast potatoes, and slices of Stalle, fried to perfection. Many years ago, so the holy texts said, when humans and non-humans were at war over food, the god Liefyr gifted the peoples of the world the plant Stalle, so they would cease eating eachother. Apparently it had worked, because sat around the table with her, where many a non-human. Not that anyone had ever put much thought into it. The days where tension grew high between species was long gone, relegated to the history books of old. At least here in the south. Court and country were a civilised place now, happy and harmonious. Well, country was, court perhaps not so much. Despite the relative peace in the presence of the king, tensions between individuals still ran high, especially behind his back. Opposite Meliora was Lord Aert Van Grizmanen, a wolf with a particularly sly canine-gaze. Like Meliora, he sat stoically, determined not to give anything away to his political enemies. Enemies like Meliora. Just look at him, she thought with a juvenile air of competitiveness, thinking he can beat me at my own game. She broke her stoicism, and her meal, for a brief glare at Aert, but before the wolf could return it, the King concluded his speech. “Thank you! Thank you! You have been a wonderful audience.” the King waved magnanimously. He was kind, and often cared for the people of Plassenar, but unfortunately that came at the cost of any real power. Even now, one Kanniss Blomscheet, a wealthy sugar-merchant who’d been invited, was whispering in the king’s ear. No one spoke to Meliora during dinner however, and she to no one else. Her neighbor, Lady Halene Goudenel, was chatting idly to the man next to her, a lord which Meliora didn’t know. Meliora continued eating, ignoring the two chattering, but halfway through their conversation, Lady Halene lifted her furry rear upwards slightly, and farted noisily. “Ahhhh,” she sighed, “I shall have to go to the mess-hall after this!” Halene waved her hand in front of her nose, looking around. Meliora hoped that the woman wouldn’t notice her, but alas, it was not to be. “Lady Van De Natte! I didn’t see you there!” she said, her talking companion going pale upon seeing who Halene was attempting to talk to. Halfway through a bite of food, Meliora made an attempt at saying ‘hello.’ It came out as more of a stuffed mumble. “Hello to you too! Wonderfully diverse platter today, wouldn’t you say?” Halene continued, determined to push through the awkwardness. She twirled her hair around one of her antlers aimlessly, waiting for a response. Meliora eventually gave in, swallowing her food indelicately. “Yes, I suppose so.” Unfortunately, it seemed that Halene took that as cause to persevere, because just as Meliora was about to resume her meal, the woman conversed again. “I take it you wish to see His Majesty after we have concluded.” It was a statement, not a question. For some reason Meliora felt a child crawl through her. Suddenly she was on edge, and she felt another trickle of warm urine down her bare leg. No one spoke to Meliora during dinner. No one. Did she want something? Meliora realised that she had been quiet too long. “Yes, my Lady. I do. Is there something you wish to ask?” “Oh, no. Actually, I was hoping to speak to you afterwards. However, I understand that you’re busy.” Halene said. Meliora wasn’t sure how to respond. She rarely spoke to Lady Goudenel, her being on the High Council for only a few months. Meliora hadn’t gotten a good read on the woman yet, she was still somewhat of an enigma, and that scared her. It was a strange feeling -- Meliora couldn’t remember the last time she had been scared. Should she accept? This would be a good opportunity to understand the woman a little better. Maybe Meliora would gain some information on one of the other council members. It was a tempting prospect. “Unfortunately not tonight,” Meliora said eventually, “but --” “It isn’t at all urgent,” interrupted Halene, waving her arm toward the table. “When are you next available?” “It may not be for some time. If all goes well I aim to be out of the country for a week or two.” “Well, that just happens to be the subject I wished to bring up.” Halene asked with the dimmest flicker of a smile. Despite herself, Meliora smiled back. “I should have room for tomorrow afternoon, if that will suffice.” “Wonderful!” the woman said with an excited nod, complimented with a wide grin, “I look forward too--” Ffffttttt. The odorus noise spilled out from her seat. “Oh dear. This food really has got the better of me. I do hope this all finishes soon, or I may have to relieve myself here!” Halene giggled at her little joke, and returned to her dinner leaving Meliora to ponder what she had gotten herself into. By the time everyone had finished, the King was ready to retire. He bowed, waved his hand, and excused guests, some of which tried to hound him. Meliora would have to get in quick. Thankfully, some of the people going after His Majesty, were some of her own. Magist Gaerdt and his young apprentice, a feline girl in her twenties, were trying to push past the guards. Knowing that they’d never get past, they were instead preventing the King from leaving quickly enough so that Meliora could catch a word. Fortunately, Meliora was very much respected by the guards, and they let her pass with no small amount of reverence. She had to admit, she liked the effect it had -- as if the oceans were parting for her. It made her feel strong and powerful. “Your Majesty, if I could only-” Gaerdt croaked, before Meliora glided past. “Your Majesty!” she said, bowing gracefully. She wouldn’t have much time to convince him, only a sentence or two. This would have to be done carefully. “May I have a word? It is of the utmost importance.” The King stopped in his tracks, lowering his head respectfully. “Lady Meliora, I’m sure you have much to say, but can this wait? It is late and I-” “Well …” Meliora countered, “I was going to ask about next week’s summit. I would very much like to ask you some questions, run some ideas past you. After all, most of the men here are on the wizened side of wise. You have a much more contemporary view of politics.” Long ago, Meliora realised that to survive court politics, you had to be brutal. You had to systematically hunt down your enemy’s weaknesses, and exploit them ruthlessly. The King liked clever words, or at least words that sounded clever to him, and a little stroke of his ego wouldn’t hurt either. Merchants were good at that, hence their power in his court. Luckily so was Meliora. Clearly it had worked, because the King seemed to be considering her proposition. “Oh, all right. But we shall have to talk in the mess-room, I’m getting rather desperate.” The King finally conceded. “Gaerdt,” said Meliora, turning to her Magist, “Please wait for me in my quarters, we have much to discuss afterwards.” “Yes, Lady.” he replied, and he and his apprentice bowed. “Come Narriss, we still have to find that book.” and with that, the aging man hobbled away, the young feline apprentice helping. Meliora and the King were escorted to the mess room, the King dribbling pee behind him as he walked. Usually, due to the sterile nature of urine, one could relieve themselves wherever they wished. Excrement, however, was not so sanitary. Peasants usually messed themselves as they toiled, using it as fertiliser for their fields. Here in the city however, designated mess-halls, or in the King’s case a private mess-room, was where people went number two. The room was somewhat large, big enough for multiple people. At the far end were two windows and a small balcony, bordered by the Plassen flags -- brown fabric, with white and golden waves. The King often held meetings here, so there was seating, golden chairs with silk cushions. The floor was the same clay tiles of the dining hall, each bearing the royal standard. Meliora made a move towards a chair opposite the King, who upon entering immediately pulled his pants down, starting to fidget. Meliora herself was wearing a dress, much preferred when desperate. Watching as the King leant over his seat, pushing, Meliora thought of what she was going to say, how she would approach this. It was important, and the King needed to understand what was at stake here. “Gggggrrrrrggg” he groaned, pushing out two long logs of poop. They snaked out of him, and coiled around each other neatly onto the stained cushion below. What am I going to say? What would convince a man to go to war? “Ahhhhhh …” sighed the King in relief, a few loose farts escaping. He sat back down on top of his mess, pushing it into the cushions with an audible squelch. Then, just as Meliora got an idea of how to approach the topic, he wriggled his bottom, pushing the poop around. Prince or peasant, it didn’t matter -- squishing was one of the few feelings that everyone enjoyed, Meliora included. A spike of envy even shot through her momentarily, annoyed that she didn’t have to relieve herself, but she quickly regained focus. “Right then, Lady Meliora. What do you want to know?” “Well Your Majesty, first and foremost, do you have any ideas about approaching the treaty?” she asked. The King looked slightly taken aback at that, and Meliora had to force her face to keep straight. “Whatever do you mean, Lady? I was under the impression that they had already agreed to sign it?” “Well yes, they did imply that.” Meliora said, steering the King into the position she wanted. “But we know the North cannot be trusted with matters as serious as this. They are frivolous and fickle, thinking only about their play and not their work. You don’t really expect them to be that consistent do you?” Meliora didn’t really lie. It was cause for concern. These northerners knew nothing of hard work and labor, many lived in luxury, playing all day. “I had assumed--” “With the utmost respect your Majesty, that is exactly it. You assumed.” “You didn’t come here to ask me for help did you?” He looked like a child being told off. Perhaps he was ashamed that he had been so naive. Meliora almost felt bad. But he needed to know. He needed to understand. Meliora respected the man’s kindness too much to lie about something like this. “My King, if I may speak frankly?” she waited for him to nod his head, and then continued, “I don’t believe any good can come of this summit. The people of Luin … they’re not like us. They won’t sign this treaty, there’s too much that they gain from war.” “What could they possibly gain from war?” the King asked, leaning forward. “Weapons sales, unity through common enemy, certainty in a changing world.” Meliora sighed, it was a harsh truth that war was so simple. Contracts, treaties, negotiations, why bother when you could just engage in conflict? There was a deep silence between the two. The King had his face in his hands, thinking. Meliora had to tell herself that she was doing the right thing. Of course she was. The King only wished his people had the same luxury that the Luiners had -- he could be a great King, truly great, if tempered by the ruthlessness of his aides. Why was it so hard to watch this man accept that war was inevitable. Was she as ruthless as she thought? “Meliora,” the King said suddenly, raising his head from his hands, “I hear what you are saying. I really do. You don’t trust Luin, and you want to strike before they have the chance to lure us into a false sense of security.” “Yes. Yes, Your Majesty, that is precisely it--” but before she could continue the King interrupted. “I’ve never told anyone this, but when I was a prince, my father took me to the front line. The regalia and glory of war was appealing to a child, and I went with glee. But when I arrived it was nothing like I thought. The place stank of death, of decay. There were bodies lined up in the streets of camp, sometimes in piles. It -- I still have nightmares. But I had never thought more clearly than in that moment. I bent down to one of the bodies, and …” the King stopped. He seemed distant, as if scared to go back there, to that place. Meliora hadn’t seen him like this before. “... And I bent down to say my prayers to one of the fallen. It was a boy, Meliora. A boy of twelve years old! I can’t remember what caused his death, only that his face was death itself. His eyes were empty. His soul, gone. Imagine what was taken from the world. Imagine the potential that boy might’ve had. All gone in an instant.” He stopped for a moment, his eyes slowly coming back into the room. Meliora was transfixed, “Lady Van De Natte, the other side may be very different from us, but I can guarantee their children have died too. Lives on both sides have died for a war they didn’t start. If they have a shred of humanity, and suspect they have more than a shred, then believe me when I say, they want to end this war as much as you or I.” The King was looking at Meliora now, directly into her soul. His deep, brown eyes yearning for peace, yearning for an end to this petty conflict. The ripple of doubt in Meliora’s mind had transformed. Great waves of torment, battered by a storm of guilt and shame, crashed and bellowed within her. They twisted her stomach, tugged violently at her chest. Could she be ruthless? I have to be. She had to be ruthless for the good of the realm. There was a long, final pause before Meliora spoke. She sighed heavily. “What do you want me to do, Your Majesty?” Narriss Narriss hadn’t seen anything like it before. The port in which the ship was docking was packed full of people. They brushed past each other, all heading to one place or another, like an ant colony. Even the capital hadn’t been this busy, or if it ever had, Narriss had been busy working with master Gaerdt. The gentle slosh of the ocean lapping against the boat, had been replaced by shouting, chattering, and a loud constantly-ringing bell. But what shocked her the most was what people were wearing. Some, like her, wore tunics and pants, robes and cloaks. But some wore onesies, sucked pacifiers nonchalantly, and underneath it all were the unmistakable bulges of diapers. In spite of this, the air smelt familiar. Sea salt and urine mixed in the air across the harbor, floating across the ocean beyond. Narriss’ closed her eyes. The wind blew gently through her fur, her tail swayed gently behind her, and her ears relaxed by her sides. She inhaled deeply, taking in the atmosphere of the place, and a strange peace came over her. A gentle, laminar peace. “Narriss.” A sharp voice from behind her said. She turned quickly, seeing Master Gaerdt standing there. “Come, we have business with Lady Meliora.” Narriss nodded, and followed her teacher down into the ship’s cabins. They had been travelling here, to the Isle of Ieder, for three days now, and she was getting sick of being bunged up in a tiny cabin with Master Gaerdt. She had complained out loud initially, which had been a mistake. “It gives you plenty of time to focus on your studies instead of napping then.” Master Gaerdt had said, never glancing away from his work. Though she swore she could hear a smile in his voice. Lady Meliora’s chambers were nowhere near as cramped as everyone else’s. As they entered, Narriss saw the familiar sloped floor, with a tile pattern running from under Meliora’s desk. It was glistening wet. The tile pattern continued past the centre of the room and rose again like the edge of a bowl, stopping under a plush-fabric seat. Lady Meliora herself sat at an ornate desk, silhouetted a little by grand windows behind her. Why don’t we have any windows like that? Narriss asked herself as she stood behind her teacher. Meliora scribbled something on a piece of fresh paper, before glancing up to Narriss and Master Gaerdt. She gestured for them both to sit. “Master Gaerdt,” she said, nodding to Narriss’ left, “Apprentice Narriss,” she nodded to Narriss, “Thank you for attending me here.” That was odd. Meliora barely seemed to notice Narriss normally, let alone speak to her. This was all strange. Something was about to happen, Lady Melliora wanted something from Narriss, but what could she possibly offer? She was just an assistant, an apprentice. A flash of dread struck through her. The Lady looked uncomfortable sitting at her desk, almost fidgety. She was never normally like this at all. What was going on? Meliora cleared her throat before continuing where she left off. “As you are both aware, we have a very important mission here on Iedar. To go over our aim again, Master Gaerdt, we want to establish relations to aid the signing of the North-South Disarmament Treaty, as requested by …. nnng … the King.” Meliora looked wholly uncomfortable after she said that, jostling in her seat. It was well known to the servants of Meliora, Narriss included, that the woman thought the war was still a necessary fight. Narriss had to agree. Unlike here in the south, Luin and the Dullen Isles (especially the former) were hostile to her kind. Plassenar was fighting for freedom -- freedom to relieve yourself where you wanted without punishment, freedom to be chaotic, and freedom to be different. If that meant tearing down their broken culture to achieve this freedom, so be it. “Now that all the official stuff is out the way,” Meliora continued, “I need to ask you two a favor. This stays absolutely confidential, do you understand?” she looked directly at Narriss as she said it, and without hesitating, Narriss nodded back. She wasn’t sure she liked the Lady, but the woman’s cause was just. “I cannot … nnn … I cannot believe I’m about to say this --” Lady Meliora went quiet suddenly, and began to wriggle more noticeably. She slid her rear across the velvet cushion of her seat. Narriss looked to Master Gaerdt, who only blinked in surprise. Meliora put a hand between her legs, and suddenly Narriss realised what was happening. As if she needed any more confirmation, Meliora quickly gave up, and took her hand away, said “Oh, blast!” rather more audibly than Narriss suspected the lady intended, and leant back in her chair. Less than a second later, she sighed as urine gushed out from under the table, hissing through Lady Meliora’s dress. Even from the other side of the table, Narriss could see a dark patch spreading on her clothes, as familiar as the blue sky. “Mmmmmmmaahhhh!” Meliora’s shoulders lowered and despite her usually reserved demeanor, a tiny smile flickered onto her face as she peed. She quickly finished and, evidently self conscious all of a sudden, straightened her dress before plastering on a calmer expression that contrasted oddly with her now scarlet cheeks. Silence punctured the room, and Narriss couldn’t help but look to master Gaerdt. However, he patently ignored her, focused on the Lady. “My Lady! Were you … were you holding that in!?” he said, visibly shocked at what he’d just witnessed. As if in defiance of what had happened, Narriss’ master let his own water escape, flooding his robe. Small rivers of urine, from both Meliora and Gaerdt, flowed into the centre of the room and were swallowed by the drain leading to the wooden cistern below. Meliora grew softly stern, straightening in her seat. “Not a word to anyone else on this ship at what you just witnessed, is that understood?” As shocked as she was, Narriss was the first to nod. She was used to taking orders, from Meliora, from Gaerdt, from any of her many superiors. But somehow Meliora didn’t feel so high and mighty anymore. Something about what had just happened made the woman less imposing, less regal. It was like a cloud had blotted the sun. Everything was still in the same place, but a certain luster had vanished. Narriss noticed Meliora looking at her, and she snapped her face back to impassiveness. Did the Lady notice? Eventually, Gaerdt followed with his nod of submission to the Lady, but Meliora just sighed, defeated. “I’m sorry you two had to see that.” she said somewhat sullenly, “These people, the summit, they expect certain behaviors from us, just as we do them. The deal was that they would be prohibited from going over-the-top with their regalia just as we do ours, to avoid offence. Part of that is … we are to relieve ourselves away from their notice during the meetings. I was practicing, here, now, and clearly I could not handle it.” “What restrictions have been placed upon them, my Lady?” Gaerdt looked to Narriss, appalled that his apprentice was talking without permission, but she couldn’t help herself. All this had gotten her riled up. Why should Plassenar have to bend to the will of another nation, just to sign some stupid treaty? Why should Plassenar suffer? However, Lady Meliora didn’t seem to mind. “That is a good question, Apprentice. In exchange for us being subtle about our culture they have agreed to hold back on their pompous clothes, and ... let ambassadors from different species into the meeting.” Narriss’ head boiled with indignation. Under the table, away from the view of the Lady, she clenched her fists, hard. Her hairs pricked up in defense, and she felt her face grow taught, struggling not to grind her teeth. Meliora was going through all this trouble to appease these people, when they should just treat everyone as equals. More and more, Narriss was growing angry at this whole twisted situation. The king, our king, wants to make peace with them? Meliora seemed to sense her utter frustration at the situation, and leaned forward. “I understand that this is hard Narriss --” “I’m sorry but you don’t understand at all.” Narriss snapped, half thinking. Gaerdt’s bemused face melted into anger at his apprentices’ impulsivness. But Narriss didn’t care. She was angry, and had the right to be so. However, Master Gaerdt had been teaching her to control that anger, focus it. “Apologies, my Lady, I shouldn’t have said that.” Narriss expected Meliora to be annoyed just as her master was, but the woman was strangely resigned about the whole thing. “No, it’s fine,” Meliora said, waving it away, “You are right. I don’t understand. This is why I have chosen you for the task. I know I can trust you, you’ve been with master Gaerdt here as long as any of my other staff, and your rank means you are in a prime position to understand both court and country in a way my friends simply cannot. But, more than all that, you are one of the people that Luin is trying to restrict. Your eyes, in that regard, see differently to mine. I grew up in a castle, in a place of privilege and luxury. I need to see what you see if I am to win this meeting.” “I’m sorry my Lady,” Gaerdt said, “Win?” “Quite, magister Gaerdt. No one wants peace, so even a small concession towards that aim will be a victory. But we need to focus. We need to practice. We need to keep calm.” Meliora said with the slightest hint of flourish in her voice. She was right. This was all too important to let anger take it all away. That’s what they wanted. Narriss breathed in deeply, centering herself. The anger within her, that raging storm, spiralled in her chest. Slowly, carefully, she pushed upwards into her head. She drew power from it, cunning, and perception. Eventually, it was no longer anger, but a vague pool of energy. Narriss felt as if she could draw from it, take whatever she needed. Her stomach cramped slightly as she contemplated it, feeling something brewing within. But before she could put much thought into that, Meliora spoke up a final time. “What I need from you Narriss, desperately, is reconnaissance. I need as much information as I can get -- ideally what the very heart of their culture is. What I need is to see where they eat, change, and what they do when they’re not at these meetings. But even then I fear that I am still not prepared. I’ll be honest, I wish I could send Gaerdt but ... ” Lady Meliora looked down at the wet patch on her clothes. For the first time, Narriss saw fear on her mistress’ face. “This little demonstration shows our weakness. We need to hide it. We need to be discreet. Gods forbid it should come to this, but what I need is a diaper.” Narriss Waygar, the capital of Iedar, smelt of crap. Literal crap. This was a very strange place, chaotic and bewildering, far more so than even the capital city. Because it was a sort of neutral zone between Luin and Plassenar, both peoples went about their own rituals without regard for the other. Some, few, relieved themselves in the street, where they stood, not bothering to consider those around them. Just like home, Narris thought. But others wore gaudy clothes, onesies with bright patterns on them, frilly dresses, and sucked on pacifiers. They kept their business, and smells, hidden in the seat of their pants. Even here, closest to the Plassen crossing, these were in the vast majority. A group of Littles were huddled together just down the street ahead, one leaning against a stone wall. They were whispering conspiratorially to each other, one glancing over their shoulder. Narriss didn’t get a good look at their expression whilst she hurried past however. As she approached, a tall woman in normal clothes burst out of the wooden door next to them and ushered the group of littles indoors. Although she looked almost normal in that long green dress, Narriss could see the obvious bulge of a diaper underneath. The woman spun around to close the door, and a flicker of fear shadowed her face momentarily, before she fled inside. Narriss bowed her head to the ground, feeling her face boil, and her stomach growl. How was she supposed to actually find out about their culture if they did this? After wandering about for an hour or so, Narriss didn’t have much luck finding anyone who wanted to converse. It was difficult identifying any Plassener’s to talk to here. Besides being so very few of them, any she managed to approach seemed to scarper away, warily. She’d even tried going up to the guards, but they’d just growled and skulked away as well. This was all taking too long, the meeting was only in a couple of hours and she still had no information. ‘Plan B’ was the merchants. Not quite the everyday person that Narriss was hoping to find, but maybe it would work. Surely they wouldn’t pass down a customer? At the very least she could find somewhere to acquire a diaper. She’d been putting it off, though she didn’t quite know why. All this was so odd--the way the Luiners just waddled brazenly about in their baby-clothes, locked away under layers of padding. After a brief wander through the mud-laden alleys of the town, Narriss managed to find a small market selling a vast collection of things. One was selling books from an open-air stall nearby. Maybe he would be able to help. He was talking with someone else, a large woman with somewhat shaggy hair. She didn’t look much like a Little, so Narriss assumed she was a Big, the people who cared for the freaks that dressed up. As Narriss approached the stall, the woman glanced behind. Her conversation with the shopkeep died down to hushed whispers and, reflexifley, Narriss’ ears pricked up. Naturally, they were much stronger than human ears, and picked up the conversation without much hassle. “I hear they’re planning on invading, by migrating into Luin!” the woman said. The man simply nodded solemnly as if it was a sad truth to be accepted, like death or paying taxes. The man’s face scrunched up and he grunted quietly. At first Narriss assumed it was the topic of conversation that had caused such a reaction. But then she remembered the diapers. “Yeah, as if we don’t let them close enough already. That new deal’s supposed to make it easier for them to get in, y'know. I --” the man cut off as he caught Narriss’ eye. “No no, please keep talking!” Narriss said loudly. The large woman startled and clasped her chest with her hand. Narriss realised her face had gone tense. She tried to relax and calm herself but… “Speak demon and it shall appear.” the shopkeep said, glaring toward Narriss with the sadistically sly grin usually only seen in Wolf-kin. Then again, what did she expect from the people who invaded her home? “Demon?! Where?!” Narriss said, bathing in exaggerated, mock fear. This man would not get the best of her. He would give her all the information she needed, or at least point her in the right direction to find it. The woman glanced down at Narriss’ waist, made a disgusted face, and nodded goodbye to the shopkeep. Perhaps she’d noticed Narriss’ tail, or worse, her lack of diaper-bulge. Either way, she and the shopkeep were now alone. “It’s considered rude ‘round here to listen in on other people’s conversations y’know.” he said, almost growling with tension. Yet they consider us animals!? Narriss mused to herself. This place was horrible. Backwards. “It’s also rude to refuse paying customers.” she said to the shopkeep. Hopefully the promise of money would quell his anger somewhat. However, it seemed that she’d underestimated this man’s discontent. “I don’t want your grubby hands anywhere near me!” he said passionately, as if Plassener’s were known for being particularly dirty. Yet, they weren’t the ones who carried their waste against their backsides. Narriss raised her spotless hands in response. “My hands are clean as clouds,” she said, “And luckily for you I just need information. So I won’t be parting with any of my money today, sir.” The man eyed her for a moment. He seemed placated, if only slightly. “I don’t know ‘nuffin!” he said, crossing his arms. “Just go someplace else!” Narriss was starting to get annoyed now. This man was being deliberately stubborn, and for what? Maybe it was time for a retreat. If she couldn’t get the information she needed, at least she could get the diaper for Lady Meliora. “I just need to know where I can find a changing station.” there was a brief moment of silence. The shopkeeper's eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised why he was asked such a question by the likes of … well, her. “Is that some kind of joke? Why in the name of Liefyr does a shaggy like you want to know that?” he shook his head in disbelief. Narriss’ ears went hot. She hadn’t been called that word in a very long time. This slimy son of a bitch was clearly too stuck in his little mud-hovel to say anything productive to her. She was done here. Letting out a deep breath, Narriss turned and walked away. She’d find the godsdamned place by herself. Behind, she heard the man chuckle quietly. Willing herself not to turn and punch him, Narriss focused on her mission. However, the shopkeep made the mistake of thinking he had gained something in that little argument, and shouted across the market. “Yeah! Go back to your shithole in Plassen you hairy bitch!” That does it. Narriss felt a storm surge inside of her, and a sudden cramp in her gut. If the bastard wanted to be closed minded, so be it. He deserved everything he was about to get. She walked back toward the merchant, who went suddenly pale. Clearly he was expecting her to walk away. Maybe she should have. Oh well, Narriss thought, hopefully he’ll remember this. “Fine. You win.” Narriss said calmly, which only served to unease the man further. “If you won’t take a moment out of your day to help me find somewhere, then I guess I have no choice but to do my business here.” and she hiked up her dress. The man looked horrified, and stepped back into the recesses of his book-stall-cave. Narriss simply smiled, and bent over the wooden counter of the stall, so her bare rear was nearly touching the wooden countertop. Her tail swished behind her, brushing against the cool air. Then, grunting a little, she began to push, slowly releasing pressure in her bowel. To her slight embarrassment, she farted a few times, but that was nothing compared to what was coming. As she pushed, she felt a rather large ball of poop force it’s way out of her, sliding through, pinching off, and then slapping down onto the counter. She let out a few more farts, feeling much better now that her gut was empty. Her mess balled beneath her, forming a rather satisfying warm, and stinking, pile. Narriss looked to the merchant again, grinning slyly. His face had gone red, and he looked as if he was leaning against the wall for support. Narriss glanced about quickly, and noticed that there was a small crowd watching the incident. Although most Little onlookers looked horrified, a small group to the left sniggered at the merchant. A huddle of Plasseners also gathered nearby, smirking to themselves. “Thank you very much for your help,” Narriss said as innocently as she could muster, “I was beginning to get a little desperate.” and as a final act of spite, she pulled her dress down, and fell back to sit in her mess. It squashed beneath her, moulding to the shape of her rear. She wriggled about for a moment, before pulling herself up with a very visible brown stain on the seat of her dress. After all, why shouldn’t she wear it proudly? She made her way into the crowd, toward some of the watching Plasseners. They grinned knowingly at her as she approached. Finally, people who seemed willing to talk. She’d finally find out what was up with this place, which would be a solid start. How she was going to find diapers for Lady Meliora from these Plassen folk she did not know, but one step at a time. There was a chance the Lady wouldn’t even need a diaper if she managed to get the right information. As she approached the Plasseners, their smiles faded however. Narriss noticed they were looking at something behind her. A cold human hand suddenly gripped her left arm tightly, pressing against the fur. “Miss,” a woman’s voice, hard and harsh, said from behind, “Please, come with us.” Narriss tried to turn without jerking her arm too much. The woman was a guard, wearing the white-red colours of Iedar, but Narriss could tell she was a little. The guard’s hair was tied in pig-tails, and she could swear the woman had a diaper-bulge. “No! You don’t understand! I have important business here, under the command of Lady Meliora Van De Natte, of Plassenar!” and she tugged her arm away, but the guard who was holding her back simply grappled the other one. “I’m sure you are Miss, but we can’t just let people go poo poo on private property!” Narriss went quiet. Maybe she should have thought this through more. Damn! “Okay, okay, I’ll go with you. Let’s just make this quick.” “You’re not going to run if I let you go?” the guard said, and Narriss felt her tail droop instinctively. She wasn’t sure she could if she tried. “There are guards everywhere,” Narriss said, “I doubt I would get very far.” This seemed to placate the guard and she let go. Two more joined her and the whole retinue marched Narriss away. About two hours later, judging by the church bells, Narriss sat in her small cell, alone. The guards had brought her back to a modest gaol on the outskirts of Waygar. Almost immediately upon arrival, the guards had insisted on diapering her. Her hairs pricked up harshly even thinking about it. Despite how wrong it felt to have this bulky padding around her waist, she’d gone along with it in the interest of saving as much time as possible. It wasn’t all that embarrassing really, not after having dropped a mess in public. But it just felt so strange. How did people defecate in this? She felt a nervous twitch in her bladder at the thought. Afterwards, Narriss was able to present the guards with a royal seal that Meliora had given her, and someone, a while ago now, had gone to fetch anyone who could get her out of here. So, Narriss sat in her cell, left leg bouncing up and down erratically, albeit hampered slightly by the diaper now under her dress. The summit would start any moment, and she was here! She tried not to dwell on that too much. What have I gotten myself into? She thought glumly. What would the consequences be? Lady Meliora said that she had to behave with courtesy--well what if she needed to relieve herself during the meeting? Would the negotiations fall apart? Back in Plassenar, you’d just ... go. I suppose you’d do the same here, too. Just in a diaper instead of on your seat. Something about that felt dishonest and wrong. Pulling up her dress slightly, Narriss looked down at the diaper. She kind of needed to pee again, though the thought of doing it in that thing was mortifying. It surrounded her waist completely, locking away the freedom to go where you needed, trapping the mess next to you. Again, the thought of using the thing made her slightly disgusted. Although, she had to admit, it did feel quite nice when dry. Like a pillow, almost. Hesitantly, more out of curiosity than anything else, she poked the fluffy fabric. The diaper was so thick she could barely feel her finger beneath the padding. She poked it again -- THUD. The door to the gaol burst open, and a vaguely familiar woman stepped onto the stone-tiled flooring--that woman Lady Meliora was talking to at the feast. Her antlers sparkled gently with the fresh mist outside, and her nose twitched slightly. Her dress was almost as regal as her strides towards Narriss’ cell. “Well, well, well,” she said, moving towards the iron bars that held Narriss there. “We have gotten ourselves into a bit of a mess haven’t we?” “My lady!” Narriss said quickly, curtseying. Halfway through her bow, she realised that lifting her dress to curtsey would reveal her diaper. She felt her cheeks grow warm with blush as she saw a wry smile on the lady’s face. “Delved into the local culture have we?” “I-I-” Narriss couldn’t think of anything to say. To be caught like this! Embarrassment flushed through her. “It’s alright, young one.” the woman said, “I am Lady Halene Goudenel, I was sent by Lady Van De Natte.” her smile shifted, wry became warm. Narriss felt her embarrassment subside, albeit only slightly. “Guard!” she said loudly, and there was a clatter from the back-room as a onesie-clad guard stumbled in. “Please let my friend here out of her cell. I shall be taking her with me!” “I’m afraid I’ll need to see some--” before the guard could talk, Lady Halene thrust a piece of paper towards them--a writ of some sort. “Huet!” the guard shouted, and a second guard, presumably called Huet, emerged from the back. Unlike the first, he was not dressed in a onesie, rather somewhat normal clothing. He took the paper of the first guard, scanned it briefly and nodded. And just like that, Narriss was free. “Hurry my dear,” Halene said as Huet guard unlocked the door. Finally, Narriss went down to remove the cloth diaper from around her waist. Oddly, Halene stopped her. “No time, we must be on our way. The summit has already begun.” a jolt of fear burst through Narriss like lightning. She had let Meliora down. She’d let her country down. The two of them left the gaol. “Is the Lady okay?” Narriss asked. She and Halene moved quickly through the market outdoors, people from all directions rushing past. It was tricky walking with the thick padding between Narriss’ legs, so she mostly waddled along as best as she could. “She is fine Narriss. I’m sorry we couldn’t get you out sooner. She is glad to hear you are okay, but wasn’t best pleased when she found out what happened.” Narriss went quiet. So much for being discreet. Halene clearly noticed her contemplative silence. “It’s all right. She’s just a little stressed at the moment. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.” Narriss could only nod. “At least tell me,” Narriss eventually said, “Is the summit going well?” Meliora The summit had been going horribly. The representative of Luin hadn’t been budging on any of his points and, as expected, his implied acceptance of the treaty had been less than concrete. His sense of grandeur and power was seemingly only bolstered by the large pavilion under which they all sat, each politician perched like vultures along a large stone table. They were all dressed rather conservatively, not a single sign of the usual regalia that accompanied them-- bright colours, pacifiers, that sort of stuff. Only the occasional rustle of a diaper indicated that they were, in point of fact, from Luin. Surrounding Meliora were a team of Lords and experts from Plassenar. In particular, her Aide–Lord Griet–sat to her left, and Lord Aert Van Grizmanen, a wolf-lord, to her right. They were the pain with which she would colour her canvas. Meliora had sent her Wizard’s apprentice, Narriss, away to gather information to use against the Plasseners here, but she unfortunately had failed to make any sort of appearance. Then, after finding out that the idiot girl had been imprisoned, Meliora was forced to send Halene away to get her out, and even she had been taking her time. It had been over an hour now. Dammit, why was Meliora always clearing up other people’s messes! The talks had stalled since, but she forged ahead, at the behest of her king. She’d resorted to placing valuable resources up for trade, and what’s worse, there was also another, more personal, problem that was preventing her from concentrating fully on the remainder of this damned meeting. Meliora wiggled slightly in her seat, holding her pee in as best she could. That damned girl hadn’t brought back a diaper either. She’d just about managed to relieve herself elsewhere, along with her retinue during the brief recess they’d had, but hadn’t found the opportunity to go since. Just as she suspected, this visible weakness had opened them up to political attack. You’ll just have to hold it, she thought to herself, though rather more aggressively than she had meant to. Although she suspected that this meeting would be over shortly. “Lady Meliora!” The man opposite her–Lord Vauque De La Seule Couche, the cousin of the Queen of Luin–said with immense exasperation, “Surely you cannot be suggesting that we just remove our troops from Ile De Sommeil! You’d simply move troops in to displace them!” The man was, at this particular summit at least, not the bane of Meliora’s existence. That award belonged to the other Lords and Ladies gathered around the great stone table. Despite Vauque’s relative willingness to negotiate, she was still having troubles however. Unlike the other lords in Plassenar, she did not know the Luin people and their secrets. She clenched her fists, and her thighs, under the table in an increasingly vain attempt at keeping some semblance of composure. But before Meliora could respond, Lord Aert spoke–his pointed ears perked up, “Lord Vauque. We have all seen far too much bloodshed in the past few years to send troops into a foreign land where they will have no means of escape. No one wants a war.” Yes! Meliora may have ‘locked horns’, so to speak, back in Plassenar, but here that sharp mind could be put to good use. She knew bringing him was a good idea. Meliora nodded, and continued, “Ile De Sommeil, much like this beautiful island here,” and Meliora tore her hands away from holding herself to gesture to the landscape around them, “Could flourish with trade between our two great nations. You have our word, my word, any troops we do send will integrate into a mixed set of guards for the island with your own troops. In return we ask only that your troops do the same, and we shall be open to trading in coal, iron and gold from our prosperous mines down in Modemeer.” This seemed to give Vauque pause for thought. There was a moment of quiet while he stared past Meliora, interrupted only by the gentle grunts of another lord beside him, who was obviously filling his diaper. Oh how she wished she could let herself go like that! As much as Meliora tried to distract herself with thoughts of the meeting, the fresh earthen-stink that floated through the air only served to remind her of her own relief, or lack thereof. She pressed both of her hands into her lap as subtly as she could, but caught Lord Aert in the right corner of her vision, glancing concernedly at her, his tail stiff, and hairs raised. Clearly he was in need of relief as well. Please hurry, she thought. Vauque looked down, smiling gently, and Meliora’s heart leapt. He sighed, and, to every Plassen Lord’s surprise, slowly began nodding. She met his eyes eagerly. “I am open to these terms,” he said. Yes! “But we still have things to work out. I must talk with my superiors, and you with yours.” Meliora smiled broadly. This had worked out well. Not as well as she had been hoping for, but well enough. It was a solid start. “I couldn’t agree more, though I think you’ll find the King very enthusiastic about this deal!” Meliora said. Though Vauque didn’t quite have the reaction she expected -- he almost chuckled to himself. “I must admit, I do find myself wanting to trust you, Lady Meliora. However, I also find that my trust is a little more cautious for your King, who seems more content making deals with sugar-merchants, than running your kingdom himself.” Vauque said. Meliora’s smile vanished. Perhaps she should have tried to contain her shock, but her need to pee was taking up that space inside of her instead. “How did -- how did you find out about that?” she said. Vauque opened his mouth to say something, but before he could a messenger boy waddled up behind him, and whispered something in his ear. His eyes went wide momentarily, and he gestured for the boy to leave before standing up. The lords and ladies from his side of the table all followed suit. Meliora still sat, half out of shock, and half because she wasn’t sure she could stand without wetting herself. The other members of her side glanced expectantly. “Lady Meliora,” Vauque said sympathetically, “I would stand if I were you.” Meliora frowned. What was this? Still confused, Meliora stood as carefully as she could. It was just in time too, because as she tried to scrape together what little composure she had left, two young men, each dressed in colourful blue uniforms, strode onto the pavilion with trumpets in hand. Meliora was beginning to shake, both mentally and physically. All of this was so confusing. Was it planned by Lord Vauque in an attempt to intimidate? Maybe he knows about my bladder situation, she thought tensley, and he’s stalling for time. Her cheeks began to burn red as she felt all the tables’ eyes on her. Meliora attempted to move them to her side, feigning composure. She was attracting glances from all around now. Hopefully this wouldn’t last long whatever it was, though Meliora had to admit, she had a bad feeling about all this. The trumpeters raised their instruments and rumbled through a regal tune. Then a third figure, this one wearing a bright, frilly yellow dress, short enough that it barely came halfway over their diaper, stood at the entrance to the pavilion as the trumpeters left. “Ladies and gentlemen,” they said to the row of Plasseners, some of whom were beginning to squirm a little, “Boys and girls,” and they looked to the opposite side of the table -- to Vauque and the other officials from Luin and Dullen, “And representatives of the land, I duly present her Royal Highness Queen Amée De La Seule Couche of Luin, Keeper of the Seven Swords, Guardian of the First Crib, and Herald of the Winds of Puer.” Shit. After that mouthful, and a minor moment of private panic on Meliora’s behalf, the announcer bowed and backed up, before parting to the left of the entry. And then, the Queen of Luin herself entered. Flanked by two guards in the same uniform as the trumpeters, a woman in her mid twenties flowed into the room. And flowed was the right word to describe the sight. Although she seemed to radiate a pompous regality in that massively oversized frilly tutu, and despite her waddle at the blatantly thick diaper that coddled her (in fact, it looked thicker than almost any other Meliora had seen), she was still as graceful and gentle as the wind itself, as if she had been born a particularly beautiful peacock. For a brief, blissful moment, Meliora forgot about her need to urinate, and followed the table’s awed bowing and curtseying. This may have been a mistake. As soon as she attempted to lower herself into a curtsey, she felt her bladder pang, and released the tight grip of her urine in surprise. A tiny dribble spat out, and warmly twisted down her leg, before she managed to regain control. As a small wooden throne was brought up behind her, the Queen nodded regally and they all sat. It was slightly easier to maintain control like this, and upon sitting, her hands were able to snap back to hold her crotch. She began to wiggle slightly in her seat. To her left, she could swear she heard a small fart from Lord Griet, Meliora’s aide. However, no one else seemed to be paying attention to that, their energy instead focused on the Queen. “So, it seems I am in the graces of some of the finest political minds in the land!” she said, puffing up her dress slightly as she brought her hands down in excitement. “Yes your majesty!” Vauque said. “I believe you already know our people,” and Vauque gestured to the two representatives to his left, “but we also have Lady Moren Wystwith, of Dullen,” a lady to Vauque’s immediate right nodded in recognition, “along with Lady Meliora Van De Natte, representing Plassenar,” and Meliora felt all eyes cast upon her as she tried to keep herself together. She stopped wriggling for a moment to nod towards Her Majesty. Gods it felt awful to stop! “A pleasure to meet you both!” the young Queen said. As soon as she began chattering again, Meliora resumed her little … what was it those Dullener’s in the north called it? Ah yes, ‘potty dance’, hiding behind the safety of the table. The Queen smiled at everyone before continuing, “Please apologize for my intrusion, I was in the area and was merely curious as to how these sorts of proceedings functioned.” The Queen was newly appointed, her father apparently having died in battle, during the most recent Pacification War. But Meliora didn’t have much time to dwell on that, she had to force herself to remember to smile and nod when Vauque began to recount the meeting. As she pressed her hands into her lap as hard as she could, she noticed her dress growing slightly damp. Was she leaking already?! Gods, not now! Maybe I should look down to assess the damage… No. That might give everything away. She was becoming really desperate now, holding herself as best she could. She felt the urine pressing against her bladder, begging for release. Meliora glanced towards the others on her side of the table. Some of them, too, were wriggling slightly in discomfort. Compared to them, the opposite side were eerily calm. Lord Vauque, whether oblivious or not, took his time informing the Queen, who sucked serenely on a pink pacifier a servant had provided her. To make matters worse, just as Vauque’s conversation was coming to an end, Halene and Apprentice Narriss decided to return. Lady Halene was visibly stunned to see the Queen, and slowed her rush to a walk, whilst the young apprentice moved to the seating outside of the pavilion, with the lesser officials, and looking rather ashamed. And was she waddling? The Queen broke off her conversation with Vauque, removed her pacifier, and looked to Halene perturbedly. “And you are?” she asked with an air of surprise. “Lady Halene Goudenel, Your Majesty.” Halene said with a curtsey. Although the Queen seemed a little mollified by Halene’s obedience to procedure, she placed her pacifier on the table instead of resuming. “Well, welcome Lady Goudenel. Do we have any more surprises awaiting us?” She looked at everyone around the table. Meliora was tempted to say that they might have a rather golden surprise if they continued much longer, but thought the better of it. Damn, she wasn’t thinking straight now. She felt another quick burst of pee release, dampening her dress. It was fortunate she was wearing dark colours, because she felt a large wet patch under her rear. “So, Lady Halene, why do you join us only now?” “Oh, I was just taking a quick break from the summit, your majesty.” Halene said. “Yes, I’m sure it must be wearing on you, what with your odd lack of diapers. Though I do hope you remain in my presence for the remainder. This all sounds quite thrilling.” It seemed almost like a threat. A few of the Luin delegates chuckled slightly, though Meliora noticed Vauque’s silent refusal to join in. The Queen only seemed bolstered by the reaction she’d gotten however. “In fact, I’m surprised that none of you have wet yourselves yet! What with all the rumors about you people and your barbarity.” the Queen directed that one straight at Halene, and it was quite clear what she was intimating. A general chuckle from the opposite side of the table didn’t help either, though once again Vauque just reddend, looking embarrassed. A furious blush enveloped Halene, and Meliora saw her fists clenching. “Please excuse my potty mouth. I find the differences in our cultures fascinating, but clearly the more concerning aspects are exaggerated. You seem to be controlling yourselves finely today my lords and ladies. One could only imagine if …” Meliora stopped listening to the queen. The bursts of urine were becoming more and more frequent now. Please let this be over. Please let this be over! All this pee-talk was taking its toll. The warm, damp patch on her rear was growing slowly, trickling into the chair beneath, and Meliora realised that she had fully begun to wet herself. All she could do now was delay the release as much as possible. Meliora saw Vauque glance at her, and blissfully, he cleared his throat and spoke, “Well, I believe that’s been quite enough for today. We have a busy time ahead of us, let us make the most of it!” and he raised his wine glass. Everyone around the table followed suit, though thank the gods no one drank, and they scooted their chairs back. Almost there! Her backside felt wet with warm urine, and as they stood, she felt the cold air get to it. If she could only hold it for a few more moments, just a few more … But the movement was too much. Meliora’s bladder spasmed, and she momentarily let go. It was impossible to hold again. There was little else she could do but gasp, as Meliora felt a sudden stream of warm urine burst out from between her thighs. An utterly blissful wave of relief flooded through her, rippling up her back, as she let her pee go. She sighed heavily, her eyes fluttering in pleasure. Maybe she could have gotten away with a small wet patch on her dark clothing, but this was simply too much. She felt her pee hit the front of her dress, soaking a glistening warmth into it, and putting on a show for the whole table. As her stream slowed, she opened her eyes and blushed as gobsmacked expressions from the other side greeted her. There was no uproar, no shouting. The Queen simply watched in petrified horror, before eventually striding around to Lord Vauque. She whispered something utterly inaudible in his ear. Those around him seemed to have heard however, and sly grins crept onto their faces.Vauque himself only frowned, almost angrily, holding his tongue. She turned and faced Meliora directly. “It seems that I was wrong.” she said quietly before twisting around, her frilly tutu following her moments after in a spiral, and striding away from the Pavillion. The remaining delegates, Meliora included, were left stunned. She looked to Vauque for answers. All he offered was a look of sympathetic resignation. “I’m sorry.” he said. And with that, his side of the table all left the pavilion as well, leaving a very wet Meliora, and her allies, alone. END OF EPISODE 2
  13. “DAAAD!”, Mikey whined, almost crying, “Suzy spilled the baby powder!”. She had been arguing with him for the iPad and when he yanked it out of her hands – she grabbed the bottle of baby powder and threw it at him – it had hit him and burst everywhere. “Suzy! That’s it! Now you’re gonna get it!” said Daddy sternly. Mikey and Suzy we sitting on the floor on the colorful Winnie the Poo carpet surrounded by playthings, cribs, a diaper change station and a pile of baby cloths. They were both just in white puffy adult diapers and nothing else, Suzy’s small breasts exposed as she sat defiantly and frowned at Mikey. This was all an act by them for Daddy, but lately they had both been feeling more and more as if this was all reality. Mikey was 22 and she was 20. They had both dropped out of college a year ago and were broke and flailing in downtown Minneapolis with no real hope - and kind of resigned to their fuck up fate as they were lazy and had no real prospects. They were quite good looking and not above turning tricks for money. About 6 months ago they had answered an Ad in the local alternative paper posted by a sugar daddy, looking for male and female adult babies/ Diaper lovers to take care of indefinitely – all expenses paid in a luxury high rise penthouse. Neither had any interest in this fetish but, in their desperate state, they jumped at the chance. They were both pretty and had slight builds, They were very skinny, tattooed, pale and undernourished looking when they arrived, but now had cute baby pot bellies now that Daddy had fed them so well since. Suze had small almost non-existent breasts and Mikey had a very small penis- they had shared naked photos with “Daddy online and he had accepted their application saying the were “perfect”. They both had dark thick unruly hair, on their heads only - as they were completely waxed and shaved smooth everywhere else on their bodies. “Daddy’s got a special punishment for YOU little girl”, Daddy said as he crossed the room towards her. He pulled her up to her feet. Daddy was a very large muscled and heavy man, he towered over both of them and maybe had 30-40lbs over both of them combined. He put is big hand down the back of her diaper. “Ah, you haven’t done your poopies yet today, hmm? But I bet you need to soon, don’t you?”, he asked. They had both heard her tooting a little and squirming on her bummy on the floor a few times about 10 minutes ago. “Well, DADDY has to go too!”, he said as he laid her down on a blanket and started tearing the tapes on her wet diaper. She wasn’t sure what she was in for - daddies punishments had progressed to ever increasingly imaginative tortures in the last couple months. She accepted them all willingly and found that she enjoyed the depravity and humiliation more and more. She shuddered and gasped a little as the air hit her bare, hairless, pee wet pussy. He pulled down his boxer shorts and squatted over her open diaper facing her. He started grunting as he pushed out his big turd. “Uh…. You’ve been a very …Uh….BAD girl”, he struggled as he strained and closed his eyes. “No Daddy, No”, she whimpered quietly, but accepted her punishment, spread her legs wide, and tucked them up towards her chin… her face turned away and blushing. Daddy’s thick hard log dropped slowly between her legs. It was huge and she felt the heat of it near her exposed pussy lips. The tail end of it fell against her inner thigh and she whimpered again. He finished, sighed happily, and wiped himself with one of their baby wipes then threw it on her lower belly. “Lets get you aaaalll fixed up now”, he cooed deviously. Daddy then took the sides of her diaper and refastened the tapes, making sure to tighly smush the mess against her lower parts. He grabbed a pair of latex panties from the baby change station an pulled them over her diaper – the panties were very tight and had longer legs and waist section, which tapered to prevent any leaks from escaping. She gave a shuddering moan as daddy’s hot load pressed firmly up against her pussy and bumhole as the plastic pants tightened around her. The massive poopoo was very dry, hard and lumpy… and when she squirmed sightly in the plastics, it slid over her clitty in a not unpleasant way. “aaaww, daddy”, she moaned whimperingly as tears came to her eyes. He picked her up, carried her to her crib, plopped her down hard into it (delighting in her gasp as the log pushed inside her slightly) and locked her neck collar to the side of the crib. He put a ball gag in her mouth, and locked it around the back of her heads o she could only moan and whimper and not give him any guff back. “There you go naughty girl – you just think about what you’ve done.”, he smiled. She tried to get comfortable – but any move she made only pushed the stinky daddy poop more against her lower regions. There was no room it the skin tight plastic panties pressing her overfull diaper so snuggly against her. She also knew she was about to poop her own diaper right before this incident occurred, and since she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, had probably kept it in held in too long. She really had to go now, but there was no room left in the diaper. She tried to push - but her poopoos wouldn’t come out against the pressure. Mikey watched her face go red with exertion trying to push her girl poopie out against the tight diaper. He always liked watching when Suzy did her diaper poos, it turned him on to see her face contort and concentrate - then catch a wiff of her stinkies as it filled the room – then the satisfied relaxed smile and glazed eyes as she finished and noticed him looking….. His little peepee would be standing straight up in his diaper and he’d have to go over to his stuffed animal toys and do rubbies against them until he made cummies in his diaper. Daddy FORBID them to touch themselves or each others privates – so they would have to do what they could against objects in the playroom INSIDE their diapers. He little boy clit was hard as he watched her struggle and contort her body trying to find some room for her morning poopoo in the destroyed sealed diaper. Daddy was watching this too – and Mikey saw the bulge in his boxer shorts as his 10” big daddy cock stiffened and he started rubbing it. She tried every position but it only pushed against her little open bumhole harder. She was sweating as she settled on lying on her back and arching to try and squeeze out little nuggets of poo at a time. As she pushed her poops out little by little, it just increased the pressure of daddy’s hard packed log against her pussy – making her gasp with an almost orgasm every time she pushed out a little piece of her massive poo. “Ahem! It takes TWO to tango young man!”, Daddies voice startled Mikey out of his horny trance staring at Suze. He saw Daddy staring hungrily at him and his stomach shuddered. “Daddy needs to punish his little naughty boy too!” His little hard peepee faltered a bit, and a flood of warm pee escaped into his nappy as he knew what was next. “OK, Daddy.” He whispered submissively. Daddy pulled the cushioned foot stool directly in front of Suzy’s crib and motioned Mikey over to it. Mikey crawled, like a cowering puppy that had just pooped the floor, over to stool, bent over it facing the struggling and moaning Suzy(in her own poopy nightmare and not noticing anything else around her), and pulled down his freshly wet diapy - exposing his smooth tight bummy and pink quivering boy pussy towards daddy. His little excuse for a cock had shrunk to its normal 1/2”, and his little rosebud pucker was clenched and expectant. Continued in Chapter 6….
  14. Just before 25-year-old programmer and chess IM (International Master) Isabelle drowns, she is pulled to the Diaper Dimension by the UN's Dimensional Rescue Group. Things don't quite go her way, but she has a powerful ally... Your Move Foreword Welcome to Part 1 of my first story. A year ago today I started posting a chapter a week, and I stopped when I got to the end of Part 1 since my Junior year of university was starting, and I just didn't have the time to study and write on top of extracurriculars (I'm a good boy! I got a 3.9 GPA this year! ?). This summer I found some spare time to write a bit every day after work (internship), and I've produced 7 chapters so far. With the way the story has taken it's own life, I'm only about 1/3 of my way through the plot points that I've had planned out for Part 2! Unfortunately, I don't forsee being able to finish Part 2 this summer, because of the amount of things I get up to (including editing @BabySofia's Lights! Camera! ...What?!?), so you may be left on a cliffhanger (Sorry! ??), but at least you'll get to read a couple more chapters (over on the original thread): Without further ado, here's the edited, up-to-date version of Part 1. There may be some small plot changes from the original thread, but consider this the canon version. Part 1: Opening "Attackers may sometimes regret bad moves, but it is much worse to forever regret an opportunity you allowed to pass you by." — Garry Kasparov Chapter 1 — What the Hell I never expected it to be like this. Frankly, I didn't think I was even supposed to be in Hell. Even though I wasn't the most devout Christian, I certainly was one. So shouldn't I have gone to Heaven? Even if I take the secular interpretation, don't only bad guys end up here? I'm pretty sure I'd been a good girl — most of the time anyway. Of course, human nature made being perfect all the time rather impossible, and I'd certainly done my share of sinning. But... but... this?? I don't think that anything I'd ever done had made me deserve this. Did some angel mess up? Or was it a bug in some kind of software? Did angels even use software to make these decisions? Leaving the 'why' aside, shouldn't Hell be hotter and more fiery, and shouldn't Satan be a guy? I pinched myself just to confirm I wasn't dreaming, and looked around the dilapidated, dirty room for the third time since I'd opened my eyes a minute ago. The twenty-by-thirty-foot space was dimly lit by a small window stained almost opaque by dust and grime. The looming figure of the Devil, about twice my height, was clunking away in front of a stove, puffs of smoke rhythmically emanating from her mouth as she dragged on a cigarette. I wretched again at the malodorous pile of dirty dishes, pots and pans that sat unwashed in the sink next to her, and the overflowing trash can beside it that contained a large mound of unidentifiable ooze whose composition I could only guess at. A lonely mattress, straight from a prison cell the way it was stained, filled the opposite corner of the room. All the furnishings, clearly sized for her, appeared intimidatingly large to me. What was most disturbing was a pile of reeking garbage bags that filled the last corner of the room. Topped with a pair of flies buzzing around angrily, its base spilled out to within inches of the mattress. My disgusting panorama was interrupted by a noxious wave of cigarette smoke reaching me. It made my head spin. I choked and coughed, nauseous and unable to breath. When the air had somewhat cleared a moment later, I drew a deep breath. All I inhaled was the putrid stench of the space. Though it wasn't exactly hot, the room was bordering on that, and the air was unpleasantly humid and warm. A trickle of sweat meandered down my face. Whatever I was wearing was definitely much thicker than necessary. Wait... I looked down at the lavender footed sleeper I was dressed in. This was NOT what I'd put on the morning I died. It was frayed but soft, and the cute design adorning the front had long faded. Somehow, whoever had redressed me for this place knew that I liked purple. I'd actually owned a similar outfit before I died, but mine had been less... cute? The similarity stopped right there as I noticed the straps that connected the butt of the sleeper, just below the end of the long zipper, to the heels of the feet. They didn't seem to serve any purpose besides preventing me from getting up onto my feet. Odder yet, my undergarments felt utterly foreign to me. I was flat-chested enough that I rarely wore a bra, so it didn't surprise me that I wasn't wearing one, but the pillow hugging my loins stuck out to me just as much as it spread my thighs apart. I poked experimentally at the thick padding, confirming that it was some sort of ultra-thick diaper — a word that still made me blush as it stirred memories of my bedwetting fiascos as a child. Thanks to the heat caused by the pillow of a diaper, my nether regions were even warmer than my other body parts, but this discomfort was nothing compared to the screaming alarm bells that my bladder was sending to my brain. Get to a toilet, now! In desperation, I cleared my dry throat and spoke for the first time since I'd died, "I eed oo you a waoom." My brain bugged at the disconnect as I heard my own words, blatantly incoherent. My hands quickly found the gag in my mouth. How on earth did I not notice this thing? I tried pulling it out and retrying my plea, and it suddenly expanded with a loud POP! My jaw felt like it was on fire as I cried out in pain! Satan swung around and I glimpsed her face for the first time. Her washed-out green eyes were partially covered by strands of her matted, unkempt, dirty blonde hair. She looked like she was about fifty-five, and the wrinkles on her face scrunched up into a frown so ugly that I shuddered. "Quiet, Christa!" She scolded in a crackling voice, turning back to whatever she was brewing. Who's Christa? I scanned the room once again quickly. There was definitely no one else here. Is Christa what they call Christians here? Does it mean— My bladder once again interrupted my thoughts with its tingling, and I tried to squeeze my legs together and press a hand between them to prolong peeing myself. The thickness of the diaper rendered both efforts futile, so I started frantically looking around for a toilet. I saw a weathered but imposingly tall door. A curtain on the opposing wall of the same giant size. The paint on the door had peeled and the curtain's designs had washed out years ago. Realizing that I had no other options since I couldn't even stand up, I whimpered as the floodgates opened and I wet myself. The Devil clearly didn't notice what had transpired, but I almost broke into tears as I pawed at the warm wetness between my legs, spreading its tendrils into the thirsty padding. I hadn't felt anything like this in years, and my memories of waking up in a cold, wet diaper as a little girl came flooding back. The pain in my jaw had dulled somewhat, but it still ached, and I rubbed it, choking back tears. In an attempt to distract myself from my distressing situation, I recalled the last moments of my life... "Mom, dad, are you guys ready to go?" I called out as I set the burglar alarm and locked the front door on my phone. "Yeah hon!" My dad shouted back from the car. I jogged over to the driver's seat, climbed in, and started the car. I put on some nice classical music, and started driving to the annual regional chess tournament. I was on-track to secure my third GM norm, which would promote me from an International Master to a Grandmaster, a title I'd spent the better half of my life trying to secure. 'GM Isabelle Green' would look perfect on my website, I noted to myself. As I drove down a winding road that hugged a rock face, I marvelled at the lake on the other side of the road. Its crystal-clear waters perfectly reflected the blue summer sky, on which a family of ducks were making a wide V-shaped wake. When I rounded a bend in the road, a large semi truck suddenly bore down on me from the opposite direction! The driver must have been either drunk or crazy, because it was driving dead-center on the two-lane road! I heard my mom shriek as I swerved quickly to the right, narrowly avoiding a deadly head-on collision. Just as I thought the incident was over, a front wheel cleared the narrow gravel shoulder and the steering wheel was wrenched from my grasp! The three of us joined into a collective scream, as the crystal-clear water loomed closer and closer. It was almost like everything was in slow motion, like I was watching an action movie. It must have been only a second or two from my driving off the edge to the impact of the water, but it felt like hours! People say your life flashes before your eyes when you're about to die, but my mind was totally blank as the car slid silently below the depths. The slight thud as the car hit the bottom of the lake jolted me to my senses, and I quickly looked behind me to check on my parents. They appeared to have either fainted or been knocked unconscious by the collision with the surface of the water. I undid my seatbelt, twisted around, and struggled to free them as well. Once I got their arms free from the seatbelt, I pulled out the headrest of my seat and used the pointed end to smash open my side window, knowing that the doors wouldn't open yet due to the pressure difference. Unfortunately, I wasn't prepared for the ice-cold water that gushed through the window in torrents, smacking me in the face and freezing me into a stupor. Surrounded by a frenzy of air bubbles, I let out a cry, muffled by the water pouring into my lungs, and I began to drown! *** "Pull her now!" Dr. Torelli yelled, determination and a hint of desperation evident in her voice. Not wasting a millisecond more, I hit F6 to run the extraction script and watched as the localized portal leveraged quantum entanglement to swap the girl with a proportionate amount of fluid in the transfer tank. The process had been perfected by the legendary Dr. Bremer's protégé, Wilhelm Münch. After undergoing field trials by private-sector organizations like the Procurement Agency for Childlike Littles, it was now being used by the Dimensional Rescue Group of the United Nations' Interdimensional Commission to give people from the other dimension a life after their sudden deaths. Every second that I'd had to watch the livestream of the accident was pure torture, delivered in submillimeter-pixel holographic gory from the ceiling-mounted volumetric display projector. The holographic feed, stitched together in real-time by AI, showed the girl's vitals directly on her translucent body. The data and imagery were being captured by nanobots in the other dimension using a mix of lidar, x-ray, and millimeter-wave imaging, since we were working underwater. Cameras recording in the visible wavelengths at that depth would be blurry at best. We had a strict protocol to follow, so I was forced to wait until Dr. Torelli, the team's physician, affirmed that the girl couldn't possibly survive without some sort of miracle (that we'd pull off) before executing the extraction. I breathed a sigh of relief as the tank's indicators showed that she was still alive. This was definitely not the team's first extraction. As soon as the transfer subroutine finished executing and flashed the transfer tank green, the medics breached the tank's seal. In unison and with calm and skillful preparedness, they lifted the girl onto the waiting operating table. "DNA verification successful. Subject is twenty-five-year-old Isabelle Green, caucasian, height five-four, weight one-nineteen, pulse forty. Symptoms are water inhalation and cold shock." The extraction room's AI helpfully listed. I heard a hiss as one of the medics nasally delivered the nanites that would be used to clear the Little girl's lungs of fluid via an oxygen mask. Another medic quickly diapered her, not wanting a shock from the nanites to cause any more of a mess. I loaded a standard electrolysis program I had written for the nanites, wirelessly uploading it to them. "Clear! Activating!" When the holographic vitals floating above the operating table improved, everyone in the room visibly relaxed. I knew that nanites had yet again saved a life, electrolyzing the water in Isabelle's lungs into harmless oxygen and hydrogen gas. They had first formed a thin film around her alveoli, the parts of her lungs that oxygenated her blood, and then started the electrolysis process from there so that she could breathe. I shuddered as I remembered that the other dimension still stuck tubes into the lungs, often causing irreversible damage to the trachea and bronchi. Another swarm of nanites spread throughout her bloodstream, exothermically warming up her body to prevent hypothermia and treat the cold shock she'd experienced from the icy lake. "Good work people! Let's send her to recovery." I congratulated the team as I let go of Isabelle's hand, which had gone from cold and clammy to a comfortable room temperature in the span of just 10 minutes. They'd all done their jobs well, a quick glance at Isabelle's now strong and stable vitals confirmed. Inwardly, I regretted not being able to save her parents as well, but we had limited staffing, time and resources, so we couldn't save everyone. We always prioritized the young and healthy. And the girls. I shuddered at that last one. As a Canadian Dimensional Rescue Lead, I was proud of how well Littles were treated and how equal their rights were up here in Canada, at least when compared to our bigotted southern neighbors. Little weren't granted anywhere close to equal rights in countries like the United States of Acimera. Since the headquarters of UNIC were in the US and the majority of its directors were Acimeran, I knew just why the Little-owning Bigs down south had set those criteria in our guidelines. They were more adoptable. I looked over at Isabelle being wheeled out of the room. She was very cute. Very adoptable. "Thanks Mike, you know you're the best." Dr. Torelli patted my back. I nodded. I'd basically written the book on extractions. As one of the first DRLs, I'd helped set up the program and personally programmed a lot of the tech around me as a result. When you design the system, well, you tend to know everything inside out. And be the best. "You're not so bad yourself, Doc." The rest of the team followed the medics out of the room, and I was about to go with them, but something stopped me in my tracks. I... couldn't help but feel a pang of... emotion. For Isabelle. What was it? Pity? Guilt? Love? Whatever this is, it isn't something I've felt before. I sat down at my workstation again. "Where's her destination?" I asked the room's AI on a whim. "Ollirama, Jacinto". I shuddered again. That was down in the deep south, one of the worst places that a Little could end up in. I made a note to check up on her situation in a few days, and got up to join the others in the break room. Chapter 2 — Predator and Prey Satan walked over to me. Towering over me and looking down, she introduced herself. "You will call me Mommy, if and when I let you speak. You're in my house. You're nothing but a doll to me. I don't care what you want and you don't need ANYTHING. I own you, and you will do everything I say. Nod if you understand me." "HNNNN!" I shook my head violently. "CHRISTA! What did I just say? I said you will do EVERYTHING I say. And I mean EVERYTHING. I also said nod. So NOD!!!" Confusion in my eyes, I tilted my head at the reappearance of that name. Christa. "YOUR NAME IS CHRISTA," she explained menacingly, her voice dripping with condescension. "Goddammit you Littles are so STUPID! NOD. YOUR. HEAD. Or you'll regret it!" She threatened. I sat there, bewildered. My name was Isabelle. Not Christa. Where did she— With a cry of pure fury, she yanked me into the air by my wrists and began spanking the daylights out of me! I shook in fear and pain. Even though the diaper somewhat softened the blows, her massive hand made my bones feel like they were about to crack! "YOU." smack. "WILL." smack. "DO." smack. A swat punctuated every word. I started to cry, sobs muffled by the gag in my mouth. Pacifier, I realized. "EVERYTHING." smack. "I." smack. "TELL." smack. "YOU." smack. "TO!!!" smack smack smack smack smack smack smack. By the time she was done, I was a snivelling wreck, blubbering and nodding vigorously. Anything to get it to stop. Please! She unzipped the back of my sleeper, reached down into my wet diaper, and pushed something up my rear exit! "Let that be your first lesson. Now here's another one. This is what you are." She grabbed my face in her free hand and cruelly twisted it around, forcing me to look at the pile of garbage as she zipped my sleeper back up again. "GARBAGE. What are you?" She twisted the pacifier, deflating it. Not fully, just to its state before I pulled on it. It was still uncomfortable, but at least it wasn't agonizing. I sniffled, too scared to speak. "I asked you a QUESTION, little girl! What are you?! ANSWER ME!!!" "Guhage?" I whimpered around the pacifier. "That's right. Garbage." She dragged me over to the garbage can by the sink, lifted out the overflowing bag of garbage, and dumped me in the bin! I watched in horror as she slammed the lid closed on top of me, trapping me in the pitch-black plastic prison. Ears ringing and eyes completely blind, I panicked. To make matters worse, a rumble in my bowels confirmed that the worst was yet to come. I desperately pushed both hands against my rear exit to prevent the monster in my guts from escaping, but something told me that I wouldn't be able to stop it for long. I squirmed against the rigid side wall of the bin, trying to find a more comfortable position. It felt like at least an hour, but I probably only lasted at most five minutes before I gave in to the unrelenting pressure. I gasped as warm mush oozed out into the waiting padding, forming a large mass in the seat of the diaper that pressed against my skin. I felt the need to pee again, and, given that all hope was lost, just let loose. I'd been flung beyond the point of self-preservation. I felt the diaper expanding to soak up my stream of pee, surprised at the amount that it could hold without leaking. I shifted my weight, grimacing as the mess slid around in the seat of the diaper and some of it seeped toward the front. Disgusting. My knees hurt so much from kneeling on the hard plastic grid that formed the base of the garbage can that I had no choice but to awkwardly sit down. I shuddered as I squished the mass in the process. This was unbearably awful. A single tear rolled down my cheek. I sniffed reflexively, and immediately regretted the act. The stench of the mess I'd made had stunk up the confined space, and my mouth was blocked by the pacifier! This isn't Hell, is it?? I'm some cruel person's captive, in some kind of messed up torture chamber or something. How am I even alive? Didn't I drown after driving into the lake? Where were my parents? Were they able to escape? Is that why I'm being treated so scornfully? I had a million questions. The darkness and isolation gave me time to think, yet the unforgiving stench prevented coherent thought. I rubbed my jaw, glad that at least the pain from earlier was subsiding. The mass between my legs was cooling, and my skin was starting to itch and burn at the same time. I frustratedly thumped a fist against the side of the bin, which only served to make my ears start ringing again. Real smart, Izzy. Real smart. After what must have been an eternity, the lid was finally opened, and I blinked at the sudden burst of light as I was lifted out of the garbage can by the scruff of my sleeper. I hastily drew in a deep breath of fresh air, not knowing just how much I would be getting. The room definitely wasn't a rose garden, but it was still a million times better than the horrific reek of my used diaper! "Looks like the garbage left a pwesent for Mommy!" The woman exclaimed in a patronizing tone, squishing the crotch of the diaper and patting my butt. "Since you were a bad girl earlier you're not getting a change just yet. You need to get used to sitting in your poopy diapers!" "Hnnn!!" I whined. "Do you want to go back in the bin for another hour?" She threatened, shooting menacing daggers at me. I desperately shook my head, eyes widening in fear. "I thought so." She proceeded to unceremoniously deposit me on the floor with another quick grope of the diaper. Eager to get as far away from the garbage can as possible, but still prevented from getting up by the straps on my sleeper, I crawled desperately across the room toward the mattress. Before I could climb onto it, I heard a yell from the woman. "NO! Bad girl!" I jolted and let out a stream of pee in shock, resaturating the drying sludge in my diaper. "The bed is for Mommy only! You should be thankful I let you sleep on the floor, and not in the garbage can so I don't have to smell you!" I just about threw up at even the thought of going back into that hellhole. She shoved a quart-sized baby bottle of water into my hands before twisting and removing the pacifier in my mouth. "Drink up!" Since I was getting dehydrated and my mouth was dry, I started sucking thirstily at the tepid liquid, ignoring the infantile drinkware for the moment. She stared at me as I drank, and I saw a smile so ugly I wanted to bleach my eyes when I finished the bottle. *** Three days after I rescued Isabelle, it was just after lunch on Saturday and I was working on a side project. "Remember to check on Isabelle Green," Max, my AI assistant, helpfully reminded me of the note I'd made. Furrowing my brow, I took a moment to recollect the feelings I'd had for Isabelle. I'd finally managed to put a phrase to it. Fatherly love. This was the exact same BS that the Acimerans used to enslave Littles, but it was real for me. It'd better be. "Right. Go secure and bring up everything you can find on her on Workspace 3." I couldn't risk making a mistake and having anyone track what I was about to do back to me, so I got Max to 'go secure', which meant encrypting all my internet traffic with lattice-based encryption instead of ECC, and bouncing it off 5 different random servers around the world using Tor. Both ECC and RSA had been cracked years ago with the first Shor-capable quantum computers, but people were still using them. The one issue shared by all technological advancements was that they made people more and more oblivious to shortcomings in the everyday tech they take for granted. I watched the holograms around me morph from the new nanite routine I was working on to a bevy of video feeds, a terminal, and some additional data about Isabelle that Max had collected using the backdoors and privileged access to UNIC and other systems that I'd accrued over the years. Max had spotlighted a hologram of a dilapidated shack, with two figures inside labelled "Karen" and "Isabelle". "This is her current location, eh?" I asked, reading the coordinates floating above the model. "Precisely. Karen is the adoptive mother. Records indicate that her older sister, Kate, should have adopted Isabelle instead, but her untimely death the day before your rescue triggered an automatic transfer of custody," Max explained. "Interesting. Bring up Kate's data on Workspace 4 in the background. Split 3 and 4," I commanded with a twitch of my right ring finger and a wave of my arms, sweeping the existing holograms into a 180° field of view so Kate's data would have room to be displayed behind me. I stood up to get a better view, and the holograms rose with me. I spotlighted a different vidfeed, enlarging and repositioning it to the center of my field of view. Sitting on the floor in front of a mound of garbage was unquestionably Isabelle... in a heavily soiled diaper. The dark crescents on her footed sleeper were a definite telltale that she had leaked through her padding. Her blonde hair was matted with dirt and debris. Her baby-blue eyes, crusted with dried-out tears, stared blankly at something just below the camera. A trickle of drool ran down her chin from a corner of her pacified mouth. She looked... gone. I gagged at the state of her conditions. I'm getting her out of there. No human being should ever live like that. Certainly no one ever will on my watch. "Cross reference her symptoms on the medware with those of hypnosis." "Everything except the crusty eyes match. That and her cheeks are excessively flustered, and the optical intradermal scan is reading excessive heat levels there." He helpfully offered. "She's probably been crying, I know I would be if I was in her situation," I guessed. "That explains her crusty eyes, eh? The flustered cheeks... maybe some sort of hypnosis side effect? I'm no doctor though." I sat back down and spun around to face Workspace 4. From the data I could see so far, Karen was dirt poor and had a mean streak. Kate, on the other hand, was well-off, kind and gentle. She'd successfully adopted two Littles before and even sent one to college, something so rare it was almost unheard of! No wonder UNIC had preapproved her for adoptions. Unfortunately for Isabelle, Kate had been killed in a car accident. How ironic. "Report this to Jacinto LPS. Send them her details and the supporting evidence, but make sure you wipe the metadata, sources, and any other fingerprints first," I directed. Hopefully she'll be okay. With luck, maybe even the hypnosis could be dealt with. "LPS systems acknowledge receipt of your complaint. They can only deal with it some time next week though, they've got a backlog of requests," Max reported. "What?! Probably fake complaints from jealous Bigs." LPS was a major scam, but even the few times that it actually worked made it worth keeping around. Still, the system was very much flawed. I spotlighted the terminal window. "Gimme their API endpoint," I told Max. "You're not gonna hack into LPS are you?" Max asked. "You know messing with that stuff is a federal offense, right?" "So was every bit of info you've pulled for me today," I smirked. "Copy it." I pasted in the endpoint and ran some commands. When I saw the nmap summary, I knew I'd struck gold. RRH, or Reverse Routing Header, had several zero-day vulnerabilities in it that I could easily chain with some other exploits to hack into the LPS API. Exposing that port was a rookie mistake, but apparently LPS was too focused on other things to care about security. A few minutes of Python scripting later, I had what I was looking for. I quickly logged into the admin interface and flagged Isabelle's case as ultra-high priority. That got the wait time down to 0... business days?! Isabelle would have to stay with that horrible bitch until Monday. Oh the poor girl. I decided there and then that I'd help her all the way. I tagged a specific orphanage on her file, checked over everything, and logged out of the LPS system. "Clear workspaces 3 and 4. Wipe the evidence," I instructed Max. Hang in there, Isabelle. I'm gonna save you. =========================================================== Bonus content — a funny video about suppositories and anal temp: Chapter 3 — Change of Scenery About an hour after downing the bottle of water, I was picked up by the witch and placed on her lap. I was fed dinner from there, which quickly proved to be another traumatic experience as the jarred sludge she spooned me was so disgusting that I gagged and almost choked several times. I could think of some people who wouldn’t mind eating sardine-and-spam, but I certainly wasn’t one of them. The ordeal was exacerbated by the airplane noises she made, and the only result of her waving the spoon around like I was two was my face and the front of my sleeper being desecrated by all the food that missed my mouth. Shortly after, she ate her own dinner and washed up. Having been fed what was equivalent to pig slop to me, the delicious bowl of instant noodles she had the privilege to enjoy was pure torment for me to watch and smell. When the sky outside the small window turned dark, she sprawled out on the tattered mattress. “Good night doll, don’t get bitten by the roaches!” I shivered in trepidation. From the state of the place, that wasn’t exactly this dimension’s version of “Don’t let the bed bugs bite” that they just told kids here. My dirtied face and diaper felt like prime targets, especially since the latter was now massively swollen from multiple additional wettings. I did my best to clean off my face with the sleeve of my sleeper, but I couldn’t do anything about my diaper. I groaned about that as I felt my butt complaining about the combination of the spanking I’d received earlier and the mess coating my butt. I definitely had a diaper rash from the prolonged confinement in the soiled garment, which was sure to get worse by tomorrow. I can’t believe this is happening. I had the habit of always saying a nightly prayer, so I decided that there’d be no harm in praying here, especially given my current situation. Dear God, I know I haven’t been perfect, but I don’t know what I did to deserve this hellhole. Why am I here? Where even is here? I know that you love me and that you know what you’re doing, so I won’t complain… But please, please save me from this degrading place and this sadistic woman. And please, someday, let me have another game of chess and a life beyond someone’s doll. I know you gave me this gift for a reason. Please don’t let me waste it. Thanks for everything you’ve done for me all my life. In Jesus’s name I pray, Amen. I started to cry again, frustrated at how bad my situation had turned out. In the end, I drifted off on the hard floor, curled up into a ball as best I could. The next morning I rubbed my eyes as I sat up, my body hurting all over. I’d slept surprisingly well given the circumstances, but I figured it was mainly because of how tired I was. I looked down at my diaper, which — I could tell from the dark spots on both sides of my sleeper’s crotch — had definitely leaked. I suddenly realized that I’d been unconsciously sucking on the pacifier that was still in my mouth. It was strangely comforting, but I made myself stop. I’m not a baby. I tried spitting it out, but the bulb was too inflated, and I didn’t dare tamper with it any further. I definitely didn’t want to risk the painful inflation from yesterday repeating itself. The woman was already up, and sitting on her bed reading some sort of instruction manual from a paper-thin tablet. Just then, she looked up and caught me staring at her. “Morning doll! You’re gunna make me some money today!” She exclaimed. I frowned apprehensively at that, not quite sure what to expect. Whatever it was, it can’t be good for me. She deflated my pacifier with a twist, took it out, and handed me a large baby bottle of water. After I thirstily guzzled it, she reinserted the pacifier and inflated it with another twist. She then unboxed and set up a futuristic-looking semi-transparent screen on a stand about a meter in front of me. After pausing briefly to look at the manual again, she powered the device on and it beeped three times in rapid succession. A really bright light from the screen flashed, dazzling my eyes. A split second later, I saw some swirling colors on the tablet-like device, and a calming voice telling me something about using my diapers like a good girl. The next thing I knew, my mind went totally blank! When I emerged from a complete stupor, she was turning off the screen, and I was pushing last night’s mush into the back of my already full diaper! I frantically tried to stop it, but it seemed like my sphincter and related muscles were locked in the ‘open’ position. Not only did trying to clamp down hurt A LOT, I couldn’t dam the flow no matter what I did! “Good girl, using your diaper like you’re meant to!” The bitch cooed. “I think I might just change you earlier than I planned to, just so I won’t have as hard of a time washing your sleeper!” After making me sit in my mess for another half hour, she finally removed my sleeper and laid me down, buck-naked except for the diaper. She manhandled me as easily as one would a toddler, lifting both my legs with one hand just like I’d done when I’d babysat years ago. The relief of having the soiled and sodden diaper taken off me overcame any modesty I had, so I didn’t bother to try and cover anything up. She used the front of the diaper, which wasn’t much cleaner than the back, to wipe the worst of the mess off my butt. I was then dragged outside for the first time. As I walked, I could feel bits of runny poop that weren’t wiped off sliding down my legs. I need a shower to not feel disgusting at this point. Once my eyes had adjusted for the bright sunlight that starkly contrasted the dim room I’d gotten used to, I took in the vast landscape around me. Dense, yellowed, prairie grassland stretched unbroken in every direction for as far as I could see. Singular, stubby trees and small shrubs dotted the landscape here and there, and some cattle roamed in the distance. Besides that herd, this place looks like it’s devoid of humanity! I yelped from behind the pacifier as a jet of lukewarm water blasted my butt. The woman blasted my butt thoroughly, then moved on to my back and legs, as if I was a farm animal. When she spun me around to face her, I appreciated for the first time just how tall the shack she lived in was. A monster-truck-sized pickup truck was parked beside it, and both were at least twice the height of what they were supposed to be. I wonder how she got all this stuff in her size… When the woman finished hosing me down, she dried me off with a towel. I tried to protest that I could dry and dress myself to stop the uncomfortably intimate touching. She either didn’t understand me with the pacifier in the way or just didn’t care, so I gave up and stood there as she dressed me. My new outfit consisted of a puke-green sundress. Perhaps it was once a more pleasant color, but its current appearance just reminded me of vomit. I was just starting to feel self-conscious about not wearing any underwear underneath the dress, something I never did, when she dragged me back into the shack and laid me on the floor. She put some cream on my butt, which soothed the discomfort from my rash, followed by another massive diaper. Why are these diapers so huge?? As if ironically reading my mind, she jeered, “You’re only getting one change a day, at least for now. I’m not spending a single cent more on you than I have to!” Her voice boomed out in a pure cackle, in a manner only possible if she were a witch. This woman is deranged. Get me outta here! As a few more days passed, I lost track of time. The boredom was really getting to me, since there was nothing for me to do except sit around most of the time. I found myself sucking on the pacifier that was locked in my mouth more often than not, if not just for something to do. I also mentally studied some chess positions, but there’s only so much you can do in your head. My diapers were almost constantly filled with my bodily waste, and the bitch kept her word, changing me just once a day. I was grateful that at least she used the cream during each change, so my diaper rash hadn’t worsened. I began noticing that I had less and less control over my bladder and bowel functions each day, to the point where I now had very little warning before I went. I was truly using my diapers for their intended purposes, thanks to the hypnosis videos that the woman forced me to watch for God knew how long each morning. The second time that she’d turned on the screen, I’d tried to close my eyes and turn away, but she’d pinned my arms to my sides and kept my face pointed at the screen with her massive hands, preventing me from looking anywhere else. The bright flash had somehow worked even with my eyes closed, so I’d been utterly helpless. By the time she’d let go of me, the video had already turned me into a passive zombie, staring at the screen in a blissful stupor. One morning, I woke up to the door of the shack being flung open! “LPS! Hands on your head!” A gigantic officer, a full head taller than the bitch, screamed at her. Pistol trained on her, she swooped in swiftly, like an eagle hunting its prey. What was going on? Who were these other giants?? There were other giants here??? Another officer, slightly shorter than the first but still impossibly tall, grabbed me off the floor. I instinctively tensed up, unused to being picked up and held so far off the ground. “Dave to dispatch, Little secured, DNA scan verifies she is Isabelle Green,” he spoke calmly into an earpiece. “Karen Elizabeth Kemp, you are under arrest for child abuse under Section 1709 of Title 44 of the US Code. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you do say may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you. If you understand me, nod,” the female officer Mirandized. “You can’t ar—”, the witch started to say something. “NOD!!! YOU UNDERSTOOD WHAT I SAID PERFECTLY!!” The officer screamed at her, “HOW DARE YOU ABUSE SUCH A SWEET LITTLE GIRL LIKE THAT?!” I couldn’t help but grin at the irony of the turn of events, and I silently thanked God for answering my nightly prayers. “Are you mentally intact?” The officer holding me — Dave — asked. I nodded. “Mothly, I think?” I lisped around the pacifier. “Good, we’ll need to interview you when we get to the station. In the meantime, your diaper is leaking! We need to get you changed first.” He rummaged around the storage area behind the curtain for a spare diaper, and emerged triumphantly holding one. The female officer found a pack of wipes from their truck outside, and handed them to Dave, who laid me down, and untaped my soiled diaper. I blushed as he wiped me down, not used to a strange new pair of hands dancing all over my crotch area. I was also quite apprehensive, with his being a man and all. Thankfully, he was very professional apart from a little cooing, which turned into a grimace when he saw the rash on my butt. His colleague got some sort of ointment and spread it over the entire red area, explaining that it would quickly heal my rash, provided I wasn’t kept in messy diapers for extended periods of time again. Dave then taped the fresh diaper on me and found a clean dress for me to wear. The officers brought us out to waiting vehicles, and I blushed as Dave sat me in a toddler’s car seat and strapped me in. “It’s for your own safety, and it’s the law.” I nodded, still confused as to where exactly this place was. There were laws here…? During our drive to the police station, the witch screamed profanities at the officers until they grew tired of it. At that point, the biggest pacifier I’d ever seen was locked into her mouth. I giggled at the further irony and her discomfort. She deserved ten times worse. When we arrived at the LPS office, Dave released me from the car seat and picked me up again, holding me close to his chest. I’d played with the buckle a bit, but hadn’t been able to get it open. That made sense, given that the giants were clearly much stronger than my puny self. I gawped at the size of everything as we walked inside. More giants were bustling about, and it soon dawned on me that everyone in this place was a giant. I was carried over to a room full of medical equipment, and Karen was led away separately. Good riddance, bitch. Dave set me down on a scale, and a nurse weighed and measured me. I’d apparently shrunk quite a bit when I died, and I stood at a measly 5’4 compared to the 5’10 listed on my Drivers’ License. I’d also gotten just a bit lighter, coming in at 119 pounds. Or maybe they measured length differently in this place? I tensed as I was picked up again, still unused to being lifted into the air. Once I saw that it was Dave, I relaxed quite a bit. He’d been gentle enough so far, and I could see no reason for that to change. We walked down several hallways and up a flight of stairs, and I was glad that I was being carried for once. The stairs were massive! Finally, we reached a room with “Interview - Little” on the door that was more regular-sized. Large stuffed animals, toys, and cushions covered the small room’s floor in huge piles. Some of the bigger stuffed animals were almost twice my size! I didn’t see a particular spot to sit down anywhere, so when Dave set me down on the ground standing up, I plopped down on the lap of a massive stuffed bear and made myself comfortable. I was stroking its paw and looking around the room more when a smaller, Asian giant walked in and sat down on a bean bag chair. She was still about 3 feet taller than me, but at least she didn’t look like she could eat me for dessert! But that perception changed, and I recoiled, when I saw that she was holding a transparent tablet similar to the one that had been used to hypnotize me! Chapter 4 — Truth Can Hurt “Hi Isabelle, I’m Linda. We’re arranging a safe place for you to live. I promise it’ll be a million times better than Miss Kemp’s place!” She saw my eyes darting to her tablet, and I could tell she sensed my fear. She reassured me, “Don’t worry sweetie, this is just a regular tablet that I carry around. It won’t do anything to you, I promise!” I relaxed by a miniscule amount, not quite ready to trust her just yet. “I’m going to ask you a few quick questions, which will hopefully help us put her in jail for a long time. Are you ready to be a good little helper and answer some questions?” I pointed nervously at the pacifier in my mouth that had been my companion for the past few days. She smiled and quickly deflated and removed it, biting her lower lip as she did so. I ran my tongue over my teeth, happy to have the restricting pacifier out of my mouth. “You looked so cute sucking on it, it’s a shame that we have to take it out. I’ll give it right back to you as soon as we’re done, but we do need to hear your testimony.” She cooed. “Do you know what that big word means? Test-i-mon-y?” I bit my own lip to stop myself from rolling my eyes at her. Instead, I answered with a more civilized but curt, “Yes.” “My goodness, you’re not just a cute face! Now, if you could tell me eeeverything that happened while you were under Miss Kemp’s care for the record, it would help our case significantly. Whenever you’re ready.” I sighed, disinclined to go over everything again in my mind. “Umm don’t you need to start recording or something?” I hadn’t seen her do anything like that yet. “Oh my, what a big girl! The room’s wired up for sound, sweetie, everything you say will be recorded.” Over the course of the next hour, I told her, to the best of my ability, everything that had transpired in the past few days in graphic detail. When I finished giving my statement, Linda sighed and commented, “That sounds terrible, I’m sorry you went through that sweetie.” I nodded in agreement. “Though you can rest assured that we’ll put her away for a long time. I’ve got plenty of evidence now. It’s all very strong. The physical stuff we found at the scene along with some video footage an anonymous tipper sent us fully corroborates your testimony.” She said almost to herself. “Do you want anything before we transfer you? A baba maybe?” I scowled at her suggestion. Did she think I was retarded or something? “Something to drink and an explanation of what this place is and how I got here when I died, please? And why I’m dressed and being treated like I’m two?” “Sure thing honeybun. Here’s some apple juice for you; drink up while I explain everything to you,” Linda said as she brought me a giant sippy cup of it from a fridge sunk into a wall. I gave her a pointed look for her term of endearment, but started drinking. I was thirsty enough to not care about the drinkware, having had nothing all morning. The sippyness of the cup still begged the question of why I was being treated like a toddler though, and I stared at Linda expectantly. “Let’s start with your first question. The reason you didn’t die was because the United Nations beamed you here just before you were going to,” she explained. “We didn’t want you to die at such a young age, so when you were helplessly drowning to a certain death they used some very advanced technology to bring you here. Miss Kemp was then supposed to take care of you, but she didn’t do that very well, now did she? We got an anonymous tip and now you’re here.” “Where is here?” “Here is the Jacinto headquarters of the Little Protective Services. We investigate when Littles like you are abused, and save you.” “No, no. I meant what is this world? This…” Dimension. No. How could that have been possible? “A dimension quite similar to yours, but with some differences too,” she confirmed. “Have you heard of the portals and dimensions?” I gasped and peed in fright. I’d assumed that I wasn’t in the other dimension — well, this one — before since I hadn’t seen any other people, and I didn’t think they’d be able to instantly create a localized portal at the bottom of a lake. Just how advanced was their technology? “The dark-web rumors are true then? The tabloids weren’t making it up??” I’d heard a whole bunch of rumors about what netizens called the Diaper Dimension, where regular-sized adults were treated as babies by giant Amazons. Their tech was supposedly more than a decade ahead of ours, and their history remarkably similar yet with subtle changes. For instance, their United States were those of Acirema, instead of America. “What rumors?” Linda retorted with a rather blatant mock innocence. I brushed past her question. “Please just send me home,” I pleaded. “I’ve cooperated with you to the best of my ability, haven’t I?” “You have, but I can’t do that.” She asserted matter-of-factly. “Why not?” I whined, getting nervous again. “Why can’t I go home?” “Because you’re a Little in a big world. You’re going somewhere where you’ll be taken care of properly instead.” She condescended. My anger flared up. “What?! How can you let people be treated like this?!” I couldn’t reign in my rage anymore. She tilted her head at me and tsk-tsked. “How is this not a human rights viol—?!” She sighed and popped the pacifier back into my mouth, twisting it a half-turn before I could spit it out. It inflated painfully and I screamed! “Huck ooo!!!” Seeing nothing but red, I threw the now-empty sippy cup and a nearby stuffed animal — a red panda — at her and pounded my fists on the bear I was sitting on in frustration. Tears began to stream down my face as I heard the door to the room open and felt myself getting picked up from behind again. I didn’t know who it was and I didn’t care. I just wanted this stupid nightmare to end. My only response was a deep moan of despair. This was the worst day ever. I was carried over to another room and set down in a highchair. Straps were tightened over my waist, head and legs. The tray was fitted over my arms, rendering me completely immobile. I had burnt up all my energy in my outburst, so I sat motionlessly as my pacifier was removed, too tired to care. Having eaten nothing but gruel at Karen’s place, I was thankful for the more normal continental breakfast that I was fed. Even when it was mutilated and spooned to me. Even when I rolled my eyes at the silly airplane and train noises and gestures. My brain will turn into freaking mush if this is kept up. Halfway through breakfast, I turned red as I grunted and pooped with less than two seconds of warning. I wonder if I’ll ever regain control? Thankfully, the feeding stopped to let me finish. “You won’t leak just yet, but I’ll change you as soon as we finish brunch!” I heard after the crotch of my diaper was squeezed by a large hand. When I finished the last bite of hash brown, the straps were undone and I was picked up. I was praised for being a “good girl” through breakfast and carried, eyes and nose red, over to a nearby changing table. I was laid down on it with a strap pulled across my stomach, securing me to the table. A strangely calming nursery rhyme that I’d never heard of was sung to me while my soiled diaper was removed and thrown out. And I was wiped down. And a new diaper was taped on me. Then I was “all clean”, tickled, made to giggle involuntarily, and given a different pacifier to suck on. There was something different about this pacifier, yet I couldn’t put my finger on it. I figured it out a moment later. It didn’t have a locking mechanism. I sucked on it, having grown fond of the comforting motion. Maybe it’ll calm me down. A short walk later, I was set down in a mesh-walled enclosure with a firm foam padding for the base. A playpen. Seriously? I looked around in a full circle and spotted the giant bear I was sitting on earlier directly behind me. I walked over and collapsed onto its lap. So soft. So comfy. So... sleepy… I decided that there was nothing to lose after everything that happened. I passed out cuddling the big bear’s paw. I woke up to the sound of a car door shutting. I yawned, rubbed my eyes with my fists, and blinked, then jolted when I realized I wasn’t where I fell asleep. Instead, I was back in the car seat that brought me to the police station earlier. Dave was driving, and there was no one else in the car. Since he’d been rather nice compared to the other giants, and I’d lost the pacifier, I asked him where we were going. “To an orphanage ‘bout a 10-mile drive away. It’s not the usual one we take our charges to, there was a note on your file. You’ll still be safe, lass. And I’m sorry that Karen was a terrible person.” “Why an orphanage? Can’t you just take me home?” I begged. “I’m sorry lass, I can’t do that without losing my job and probably getting charged with neglect too. Even if I could, there’s no way they’re letting you go back. You’ve got no documentation proving you were from there, and they don’t just let random Littles through the portals.” He looked at me empathetically through the rear-view mirror. “What about through a localized portal like the one that brought me here?” “As far as I know that’s a one-way thing. I remember something about there being no transfer tank in your dimension, or something along those lines. The exact details are beyond my understanding.” I desperately wanted him to be lying, but the psych minor I’d done in university told me he probably wasn’t. There was simply no gain for him in doing it, and he didn’t seem like a sadist either. I sighed. I spent the remainder of the drive staring out the window at the prairie landscape on either side of the highway. Occasionally we passed digital billboards that displayed all sorts of strange brands I’d never heard of before. One of them, Melon Corp, was advertising its latest laptop as we drove past it in a blur. I was startled by the sound of a woman whispering in my ear. “One century since we made our first computer, we now offer the MelOne. One exaflop of raw power. One exabyte of PCIE-7 storage. One hundred terabytes of RAM. Preorder online or at any Melon Corp certified retailer.” My mouth fell open in shock. This was insane! We had just worked out how to mass-produce nanosheet technology after years of setbacks. The amount of processing power they had on just one chip was incredible! Wait a minute, how did they deliver that ad? Dave saw my agape mouth and explained, “The voice you heard was from the billboard. It’s a new micrometer-wave technique for subcranial audio injection called inSAIn. Congress is having a tough time with it, because nobody knows what the long-term effects are and the ethics of it are muddied by the trillions that the corporations involved put in. Most billboards at least have a legal age setting on, so Little and child brains don’t just get scrambled by the ads, but I guess that one didn’t.” Soon, we took an exit off the highway. A short local drive later, we pulled into the parking lot of an orphanage with a big sign advertising its name, “Little Hearts”. I watched as Dave got out and spoke with the receptionist inside. A minute later, he returned and looked at me oddly when he reached over to unbuckle my seat straps and found them undone. I’d finally figured out how to undo the buckle over the long drive. It was a complicated depress-twist-slide sequence that required the use of both of my hands. The mechanism had clearly been designed with great effort to be ‘Little’-proof. Dave picked me up, closed the car door, and carried me over to the reception. When he bent down to set me down, I held on tightly to him and whined, not wanting to leave the nicest person I’d seen in this dimension so far for an orphanage. He sighed and picked me up again, bouncing me lightly once. I yelped softly at the momentary weightlessness. He brought me to his eye level and coaxed calmly. “Look lass, you’ve gotta go. There’s nothing I could’ve done for you and there’s nothing I can do for you now. Believe me, if there was something I could’ve done I’d’ve done it a long time ago. The only thing I can offer you is some advice: do your best to act as babyish as you can. It will one hundred percent make your life more tolerable.” I nodded. That wasn’t surprising, given the amount of weirdness in this dimension. He kissed my forehead gently, before passing me over to the receptionist, who brought me inside immediately. I was just starting to feel sad about Dave leaving, when the receptionist — her badge said Claire — carried me over to an alcove beside a strange glass enclosure. There, she removed the sleeper I’d gone to sleep in last night, and opened a panel on the contraption. She had me climb in and stand barefooted and gently placed my hands flush against opposite glass walls of the contraption. Ordering me to stay still, she closed the panel again. A second later, I was blinded by a familiar flash of bright white light from all four glass panels, and I peed myself instinctively! Chapter 5 — Life Is Like a Game of Chess The swirling colors that I dreaded but fully expected never came. Instead, Claire removed me from the device after glancing at something on her semi-transparent monitor. As she ruffled my hair and smiled at me, I saw the piercingly-high definition 3D-scan of my body that she had open on her screen. Enlarged images of my hand- and foot-prints and my irises floated in front of the main model. So that was what the bright light was. An iris scan. “Oh dear, you’re about to leak! Let’s get you changed.” She gingerly carried me naked but for my sagging diaper over to a changing table in the adjacent room, not bothering with my sleeper. She removed the wet diaper, wiped me down, and taped a fresh one on me. It was bright pink and adorned with white unicorns, and I frowned at how silly it made me look. Pink is NOT my color. Seeing my long face, she tickled me, causing me to smile and giggle involuntarily. Before I could regain my composure, she had me sitting up with my legs dangling over the edge of the changing table. A bright summer dress was pulled over my head, turning my vision into a sea of pastel yellow for a moment. When my head popped out the top, Claire swept my hair back with a matching yellow hairband, which came topped with a baby-blue bow. She stood me on the ground, gave me a pacifier that matched my outfit’s color scheme, and led me over to an adjacent mirror. When I saw her, I gasped at how cute the innocent, foreign toddler staring back at me looked. I hated being relegated to a toddler, but I was starting to not mind the adorable clothes so much. If only the stupid unicorn diaper didn’t peak out from under my dress. I tugged the hem down with both hands, but it rode back up the second I did anything other than stand perfectly still. “Well aren’t you cute!” She asked, beaming at my reflection. I couldn’t help but smile and nod. She led me to the main room of the orphanage, which was almost three-quarters the size of a soccer field, and patted my butt, motioning for me to join the other fifty or so people running around boisterously. There was a mix of teenage and adult Littles alongside Amazon toddlers. I didn’t want to just start running laps, but I didn’t exactly want to sit around in the middle of the room where I could get trampled over either. Just as I was trying to decide on what to do, an Amazon toddler bumped into me. He couldn’t have been older than three or four, but he was a good head taller than me, and stockier too! Without any warning, I found myself bent over his knee!! “Bad baby watch where goin!” He yelled at me, spit flying everywhere as he fervently rained down smacks. Even with a diaper on to cushion the blows, the rascal put unbelievable power into the spanking, and my butt soon felt like it was on fire! I was starting to break into tears when a nanny came over and pulled a kicking and screaming me off him. “James, we don’t hit people.” She chided him, steadying me on my feet. The toddler nodded and ran back to join whatever game he was playing before the ordeal. I could hardly believe it! I was about to protest the fact that the scoundrel had gotten off without even an apology, but the nanny, having given me the cursoriest of examinations, was already walking away. I didn’t want to put on any more of a show for the dozen pairs of eyes now on me, so I just sniffled, straightened out my dress, and sulked away. So this was the social hierarchy here. Littles at the bottom of the ladder. No, not even on it really. I spotted a group of Littles lying prone on the ground in a far corner of the massive room. Some of them had feet swinging in the air, and they all looked pretty intently focused on whatever was in front of them. I trudged my way along the edges of the room to see what they were up to. Halfway there, I stopped to pee and rub my sore behind. When I got closer, I saw their hands dancing over the pages of newspaper-sized coloring books. Giant crayons in fists, they definitely looked focused on what they were doing, but it seemed like none of them were staying within the lines. I was confused about this for a moment, before I remembered Dave’s advice and understood what was at play. Act babyish. Well, the spanking delivered by a toddler certainly helped to that end! I sat down beside them and yelped as my butt touched the carpet. Flipping over onto my stomach, I gingerly rubbed my rear end. The little rascal’s blows had really hurt! A Little that looked like he was in his thirties gave me a sympathetic look and put a spare coloring book and a red crayon in front of me. “Best to stay away from the Big children,” he warned. I nodded and smiled weakly, before turning my attention to the items in front of me. The oversized crayon reminded me of a giant Crayola I’d once seen a GM comically using at a tournament to record moves on his score sheet. At that time, I never thought I’d see another one being used, much less use one myself to color. Oh how things have changed. I shook my head at the absurdity of my situation and absent-mindedly flipped through the ten pages of the booklet. Each side had an outline of a different marine animal to color. I copied the others and randomly scribbled on the first page, essentially ignoring the printed black lines that outlined a seahorse. Halfway through the page, I sensed a pair of eyes boring into my back. “Nice to see a smart new face,” a young man about my age, dressed in a playsuit just as colorful as my dress, acknowledged quietly. “Isabelle, but everyone calls me Izzy.” I held out my hand and he grasped it in a quick but firm handshake. “Mark. Don’t look around and don’t stop coloring, or you’ll provoke one of the nannies into investigating,” he warned. I nodded and got back to it. “Why do you say I’m smart? I literally just got spanked by a toddler.” “I saw. That was just bad luck, not stupidity. I can tell you’re smart because you know to only make abstract art. So, what brought you here?” I looked at him for a moment to gauge just how much I should say before answering. “Well… you probably won’t believe this, but I was driving down a mountain road when a semi came head-on at me. I swerved and drove off a cliff into a lake. The UN sisterly beamed me to this dimension, because next thing I know I’m stuck as some woman’s doll. Good thing some agency called LPS put a stop to that, and now I’m here.” “So you’re a humanitarian portal Little.” “Uhh… sure? You could call it that. What about yourself?” “Parents got adopted and my job didn’t pay enough… I ended up not being able to afford rent, and I got picked up and delivered here the day after my eviction,” he recounted sadly. “Your parents were adopted?” He gave me an ‘Are you a Martian?’ look and explained, “I think Littles might be safer up north, but ’round these parts a Big can just grab you off the street and adopt you. It’s like kidnapping, except it’s legal and you can’t do squat about it.” “Yikes. I’m sorry about your parents.” I thought back to mine. They were probably still at the bottom of the lake. Burial at sea. “At least they’re not dead though,” I added half-jokingly. “Aye, but they might just wish they were,” he mused. “You any good at chess? I ask every new arrival, but so far nobody knows how to play. Not exactly the most popular game among Littles.” “Ooh I play quite often. It’s really popular back in my dimension.” “Shall we have a game then?” “Sure, you have a chess set around here?” I asked, looking around. Mark laughed. “No. Have you ever played blindfold chess?” “Sometimes. I did a sans-voir simul once when I was in college, for charity. I’m assuming you use the same terminology as we do?” “Guess we’ll find out. You can go first.” I nodded. “E4.” “E5,” he countered. “Knight F3.” “Knight to C6.” “Bishop B5.” “The Segura,” Mark remarked. “The what?” I’d never heard of that word. “The name of this opening. We call it the Segura, after the 16th-century Spanish priest?” “Ohh, we call it the Ruy Lopez. And I have no idea who Lopez was. Might be the same guy?” “Might be,” he echoed. “Knight F6.” “Berlin defense. What’s your name for it?” I asked, starting a mental dictionary. “Um, we don’t have one.” He stopped coloring for a moment to look at me. “You don’t have names for variations of openings? We have whole wiki pages on these!” I felt the briefest of urges before I wet my diaper. “Nope. It’s never been that popular of a game, so naturally it’s not studied as much as more mainstream games like Go.” “Wow. Bishop takes on c6.” “b takes c6.” “d4.” “c5.” “You blundered.” I smirked as I ‘finished’ the seahorse and started murdering the dolphin on the next page. “How?” Mark asked quizzically. “d takes e5.” “Knight takes e4.” “Queen d5.” “You weren’t kidding! You’ve gotta be one of the best players I’ve ever faced, and I’ve played thousands of games. You’re incredible!” He looked at me in awe. “Knight takes on f2, which piece are you gonna take?” “Knight g5. Both. Or you can give up your queen.” I smirked. “My… God. I resign. You’re too good.” “Good game!” I smiled. “I’ll give you rook odds if you wanna play another?” “Sure, although something tells me you’ll still beat me. What’s your rating? I’ve won against players rated over two thousand!” “My elo is twenty-five oh one. I was supposed to get my third and final GM norm.” “You’re a Master? Daaamn.” Mark quickly bit his lip and looked around nervously, and only relaxed when he confirmed his slip-up went unnoticed. We played another two games, both of which I won easily, even with rook odds. Mark then called it a day, claiming he was tired of thinking, although I suspected that he was actually tired of losing. I was starting to feel physical exhaustion creep in though, so I didn’t object. As an afterthought, I wanted to confirm something with Mark. “This dimension also has twenty-four hours in a day, right?” He gave me the ‘Martian?’ look again. “There’s thirty-two hours in a day here. Were there only twenty-four in your dimension?” “Yeah, no wonder I’m feeling so tired. What about the other units? You have sixty minutes in an hour?” “Yep.” “Sixty seconds in a minute?” “Yep.” “A thousand milliseconds in a second?” He laughed. “I dunno. Probably? You also have seven days in a week and fifty-two weeks in a year, right?” I nodded as a nanny came over and handed out bottles of juice from a tray. I thanked her politely when I got mine. No need to make enemies with the only ‘adults’ here. After another hour or so of coloring, the nannies began herding all the Littles into the adjacent dining hall. It turned out that this place was both an orphanage and a daycare, and almost all the Amazon kids had been picked up by then. On my way into the dining hall, a nanny grabbed me for a diaper check, making me blush. Probably never getting used to that. Seeing that it was wet, she grabbed me and changed it, and several others received the same service. I sat across from Mark on a picnic table sized for us for dinner. The meal consisted of some mashed potatoes, peas and jumbo chicken nuggets shaped like little animals, all served on a plastic plate. The potatoes were bland and the nuggets were soggy, but the food still tasted ten times better than the goop Karen fed me. The peas in this dimension were the size of small hazelnuts! Luckily for me, I loved peas, so I devoured everything on my plate. Unfortunately for her, the Little beside me seemed to have lost her appetite, and she pushed her peas around on her plate without eating anything. A nanny quickly spotted her dawdling, and honed in like a falcon on its prey. She yanked the Little out of her seat, flipped her dress up, and started spanking the living daylights out of her! After about thirty smacks, the sobbing girl was taken to a highchair nearby and straps were pulled across her forehead, chest, waist and legs, rendering her totally immobile. Her wails were silenced by a nanny feeding her a jar of what looked like the peas she was playing with, mashed up. I felt so bad for the poor girl, but it wasn’t like I could do anything for her. I looked at Mark, who wore the same grim expression on his face as I did. After dinner, everyone took turns being showered by the nannies, an experience that turned my face into a tomato again. I didn’t think I’d ever get used to other people seeing me naked. We were soon dressed in footed pajamas and thick nighttime diapers for bed. Giant cribs were unfolded in the main room by the nannies, who then laid mattresses on top of them. I was tucked in with a kiss and a bottle of milk, which I took a tentative suck at. It tasted like a vanilla milkshake, and was definitely the best-tasting drink I’d ever had! The soft mattress that cushioned me was a fluffy cloud compared to the unyielding floor that I had slept on in the days before. I said a quick prayer of gratitude, and soon after, thanks to the strange milk and the comfy mattress, I was out like a light! As a bevy of thirty-two-hour days passed by, I settled into a routine that consisted, for the most part, of eating, sleeping, playing, and avoiding the Amazon toddlers. It felt like I was thrown back into a second childhood, and I was somewhat grateful for the opportunity for a bit of R&R. My busy life juggling my chess and programming careers didn’t give me much time to just waste away, something I was essentially forced to do here each day. Mark had gradually introduced me to the other Littles who had been coloring when I’d arrived, and they seemed like a nice bunch. Other than the boredom and lack of freedom to go places, I was pretty happy, since I had food, friends, and a bed — well, crib. Even though I was babied all the time, I wasn’t being abused. I might have even secretly liked that a bit, not that I would admit it! All things considered, the orphanage was a million times better than Karen’s shack. My mental chess games with Mark were icing on the cake, and I gradually taught him some more advanced chess theory while we colored each day. He was a fast learner, and improved quickly. I was still able to consistently beat him though. One time, as I checkmated him after a windmill attack, he looked at me and tilted his head. “You know, life is a lot like a game of chess,” he mused. “You plan things, but they don’t go your way. You get pulled into a series of forced moves, and there’s nothing you can do but to go along with it until you get a chance to counterattack or you lose.” “Yeah, that sounds about right. Maybe one day I’ll get a chance to counterattack and change the system. Win the game.” I longed. “You know what Izzy? I hope you do. You’re smart, talented, and kind. There’s nobody better to change the world.” Every night, I prayed for another shot at living an actual life. You gave me so many talents for a reason. Please don’t let me waste away, God. Give me a chance. =========================================================== Bonus content — Izzy vs Mark chess game: https://lichess.org/study/YfxwmWUR Giant Crayola: https://shop.crayola.com/color-and-draw/giant-crayola-crayon-choose-your-color-52MEGA.html Chapter 6 — Extraction My prayers were finally answered around two weeks after I’d arrived at the orphanage. A loud bang came from the reception area, prompting the four nannies on duty to investigate. The Amazon kids didn’t seem to care though, and they continued running around. Most of the Littles didn’t notice either, with the exception of the few of us coloring. Suddenly, a vent cover in the wall beside me swung open and a Little dressed head-to-toe in a futuristic-looking black combat suit emerged from the ventilation shaft. A spool mechanism built into the suit attached to a black wire, which was pulled taut and disappeared into the shadows above. He scanned the room for a moment before spotting me and glancing down at a screen wrapped halfway around his forearm. “Isabelle Green?” I looked up from my prone coloring position and answered, “Hi?” He scanned my irises with a device in the wrist of his suit, which beeped and flashed green. “I’m going to offer you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,” he told me in a quiet but assertive voice while looking directly at me. “If you want, I can get you out of here. The staff won’t be affected by my distraction for too long, so you have thirty seconds to decide.” I inhaled sharply at the suddenness of his proposal. “Who are you? Why me out of everyone here?” “Don’t have the time to explain. Twenty seconds.” I looked at my friends for support. They were all nodding for me to go, even as several eyes sparkled with envy. “Your move, Izzy,” Mark said determinedly. “I think you should go. Go win the game. You can’t do that from here.” I nodded and gave him a quick hug goodbye. “I’ll miss you. And I’ll do everything I can to get you out too.” I stepped back and looked at everyone, “All of you.” I wiped a tear from my eye and exchanged hurried farewells with the few people that I could consider friends in this dimension. I felt guilt and sadness for leaving them, yet a rekindled hope about my future surged in my chest. I raised my hand to the group in a solemn salute, before nodding to my rescuer and stepping into the shaft. He shut the vent cover, and I watched through its slits as the others went back to coloring. I trusted them enough to be certain that no one would give us away. Maybe the nannies wouldn’t even notice that I was gone. There were almost sixty residents, and I’d done my best to keep to the shadows after the trauma I’d witnessed my first night there. “Get a good grip on me. It’s a long way up and you do not want to fall. I’d put a harness on you but we’ve got to move.” I nodded and clung tightly to him. He pressed a button on his harness and we rose into the ventilation system. On my way up, I couldn’t help but think back to my question. Why me? Was there someone looking out for me? *** “Clear workspaces 3 and 4. Wipe the evidence,” I instructed Max. It was the Saturday after I’d rescued Isabelle, and I’d just arranged for her to be sent to Little Hearts, one of the safest orphanages for Littles in Jacinto. In less than two seconds, all traces of my tampering with the LPS systems had been erased. “Shall I turn off secure mode?” Max asked helpfully. It’d taken me more than a month to customize Max from the latest open-source homeAI release. I’d written almost a hundred thousand lines of code and config files — with the help of an AI programmer — to do it, and the end result was spectacular. After testing everything, I hosted it on my own servers in my basement. It was much more sentient and intelligent than the open-source version, and it was perfectly tuned to my liking and needs. I’d named it Max, after the protagonist’s AI in Ready Player One, a novel from the other dimension that I had read in my teenage years. “Not yet. She’s safe, but not free. I want to set her free.” “What are you gonna do?” Max asked, confused. I’d never programmed complicated feelings like freedom into him. I didn’t think he’d need it. He knew what freedom was, of course, but he couldn’t feel it like he could the more basic emotions: happiness, sadness, fear. Someday I need to add more abstract feelings. Then I can file a massive pull-request to the homeAI project. I thought about the actions I planned on taking next. Is it worth all this risk, just for one Little? There’s millions of them. If I were asked this question on a game show, or if there was no risk to me, then I would immediately answer affirmatively. Unfortunately, this was real life, not a hypothetical. Actions had consequences here. I thought about it for a few minutes and took a sip of my coffee. I waited until I was absolutely sure before finally deciding. Yes. It IS worth it. They’re human beings. They deserve love and respect. They’re people. They deserve to be free. Sure there were risks to me if I were to do this, but those were negligible compared to a lifetime of forced babyhood that Littles are subject to. Every single one of them is worth the risk. With Isabelle specifically, I hoped that what I planned on doing would make up for all the trauma she’d been through. I sighed and answered Max, “You know how we just hacked the Empire? Now we’re gonna hack the Alliance.” I’d seen a few Star Wars movies from the other dimension and used some of it to train Max’s neural model. He finally connected the dots. “Well, the Railroad should be a piece of cake compared to LPS, eh?” Good boy. “Once we find them, yes. The decentralization will be a nightmare to deal with though.” The Little Railroad was an underground movement that freed Littles across the continental United States. They worked in regional cells smuggling Littles north to Canada or east to the Little Islands, where Littles were safe from adoption and free to live their lives. The situation in Canada was much better than the US, with adoption being illegal and equal rights for people of all heights. There were still some Little-specific laws, mostly concerning driving and other activities that might be dangerous for anyone short, but they were all for safety reasons. However, the one thing that Littles did have to worry about was Little hunters from the US that prowled the cities near the border. Given that two-thirds of the Canadian population lived within a hundred kilometers of the US border, that meant that Littles were in real danger of being kidnapped and smuggled across the border. The Little Railroad couldn’t really prevent this from happening, but they did try to rescue as many Littles as they could out of the US. Since their operations were so decentralized, there was no head of the Railroad that I could target. I had to change tactics and perform a breadth-first search instead. I spun up a quick script to scrape Mastodon, the predominant metaverse and social media platform in the dimension, for a list of known code words associated with the Railroad. My script would then process the raw data to extract a variety of metrics such as frequency, variation, emotion, and context. After five minutes of big-data analysis, I had a list of accounts likely run by affiliates or members of the Railroad, sorted from most to least promising. Back in college, I’d started an all-purpose rootkit-injection program to use when I needed access to systems that I would have a hard time accessing through official channels. I updated it regularly over the years with new exploits and patch-workarounds, and it now supported every operating system with more than a few thousand users. Since most people just used thin clients nowadays anyway, my program also worked for gateways running older, but still supported, versions of the popular cloud providers. I ran this program against the machine used by each target on my list, achieving a 70% pwn rate. After looking through the data of the first fifty users, I’d found out enough about their networks to locate the contact info of several Railroad cells. I chose three cells to serve as entry, relay, and exit nodes that roughly formed a line connecting Ollirama to the US border with British Columbia, and set about masterminding the operation. Decentralized computer networks could be trusted, but human ones couldn’t, so I would do all the planning myself. I marked up a few possible border crossings based on Railroad and Border Patrol data, the latter of which I had access to thanks to sysadmin credentials I’d acquired on the dark web a few years ago for another project. Just those weren’t enough to bypass the multi-factor authentication they had in place, but I had a digital carte-blanche to bypass the latest OAUTH protocol. There would be no room for error, and my ample arsenal of cyberweapons would keep my precision high. I dug up some more information on the cells, and a plan soon materialized. The first leg of the journey would be handled by an extraction team, who would break Isabelle out of the orphanage. Earlier that afternoon, I’d made sure to mark Isabelle’s LPS file for Little Hearts, one that I knew that treated Littles better and was easy to escape from, specifically to help with this part. The extraction team would immediately drive her west to the border with the adjacent state, which would hopefully get her out of Jacinto and its jurisdiction to ease her escape before her disappearance was even noticed. At the border, Isabelle would be transferred to the next cell, which was run by a sympathetical Big businessman who owned a limo company and used his fleet to drive Littles across the continental U.S. to where they needed to be. Bigs involved in the Railroad were limited in numbers, but critical to the network’s success from the data I’d gathered, as they could get around much more easily and safely than Mids and Littles could. Once I finished planning out the details for the final stretch, I contacted all three cells with their instructions. I gave each only the information that they needed, in order to maximize the security of the whole operation and thus Isabelle’s safety. I made sure to send the first cell a copy of her bodyprint, which I’d hacked from the orphanage. Surprisingly, none of them asked me who I was or where I got their information from. Decentralized meant a lot of need-to-know, and these people were used to not needing to know, which made my job easier. In all honesty, I was touched by their selflessness. There definitely weren’t a lot of people willing to put their own freedom on the line to help others find a better life. I seriously respected those that did. *** We reached the top of the ventilation shaft in just a few seconds, and I clambered up and into the horizontal duct running along the rear wall of the orphanage. The shaft was spacious, but not tall enough to stand up in, and I could see light coming from the end of the tunnel. My rescuer put a finger to his lips, tugged on the black wire, and pointed with 2 fingers to a bright opening at one end of the duct. I understood that as ‘keep quiet and crawl toward the light’, and proceeded to comply with his instructions. As I did so, my skirt flared up and I flashed my diaper. I blushed a deep crimson and pulled it back down. Thankfully he appeared to be too busy with the screen on his forearm to notice. When I reached the opening, I could see that the outer grill had been swung up and somehow fixed to the outside wall. It provided an anchor point for the black wire, which hung out down to a waiting car. The combat-suited Little had followed closely behind me, and I grabbed onto him again as he rappelled down the brick rear wall of the building. When my feet touched the ground, he pushed another button on his harness. I heard a quiet whirring sound as all the wire was quickly winched up, leaving no trace of our escape apart from the open grill. Fortunately, it seemed that my rescuer had thought of everything. He twisted a dial on his screen, and the grill quietly swung shut. My jaw dropped open and my inner geek screamed, ‘That was so cool!’ “It’s rapid-biodegrading electronics. In a couple hours it’ll all turn into dust and get blown away by the wind. We’ll be long gone by then anyhow.” I nodded, still in awe and slight disbelief that I was actually free. Just then, I saw an Amazon get out of the driver’s seat, and my heart jumped. He opened the rear door and grabbed my rescuer! I turned and fled in a panic. My socked feet pounded against the asphalt and my heart pounded from adrenalin as I ran in a straight line away from the monster. I’m getting kidnapped, not freed. This isn’t tag where I become ‘it’ when I get caught. If I’m caught, who knows what will happen to me! I didn’t make it ten meters before I was seized by a strong hand. I yelped. He lifted me into the air. He spun me around to face him. I tried whacking him to break free, but he held me at arm’s-length, pinning my arms down. I kicked uselessly at thin air and screamed hysterically. He sighed and pushed an inflatable pacifier into my mouth before quickly twisting to inflate it. My cries were quickly muffled as my jaw lit on fire! All I could do was look at him in sheer terror, distress and desperation. Chapter 7 — Silver Spoon “I’m sorry I had to do that,” the Amazon holding me at arm’s-length apologized, “but you’ve got to stop screaming if you want a chance to get away from here.” What was this guy up to?? “Owww…” this overinflated bulb is really hurting my jaw. I winced and moaned, slightly confused and more than slightly terrified. He could see that I was hurting. “If I remove that, promise me you’ll keep your voice down.” I nodded and stopped struggling, eager to get it out. He brought me closer to his chest and shifted my weight to one arm. The pacifier was deflated with a twist and a hiss of air. I quickly rubbed my jaw in relief. These damn things were so painful! “Who are you and what do you want?” I asked, perplexed, exasperated, exhausted… My feelings were so numerous and complex I couldn’t even put them into words. I gave up all resistance for the time being. Might as well conserve my energy. He’s strong enough to overpower me no matter what I do anyway. “I’m here to save you and I want to get out of the state before the cops show up.” “Save me?” I spat. “And then kidnap me to Mexico to spew babies or test drugs for some cartel drug lord?” Shivers wracked me as I remembered the stories that one of the Littles had told me about her time in Mexico before she was rescued in a federal drug raid. “No, Isabelle. I’d never do that. I’m with the Railroad. And we’re going west, not south.” How did he know my name? The Railroad? They were working together? There were Amazons that weren’t totally baby-crazy? I guess it does make sense though… It’s not like Littles are allowed to drive around here. Another Little had told me about how he almost got to one of the Little Islands thanks to the Little Railroad. Unfortunately for him, his counterfeit passport didn’t quite pass muster and he was detained at the port. Poor lad. But if this guy was with the railroad, then… he was one of the good guys? “He’s telling you the truth.” The Little reappeared beside us. My brain screamed for him to run while he could, but he clearly had no intention to do so. I was almost convinced, but I needed more assurance. “Where did he get all that high-tech military gear and training?” I questioned the Big. “I can’t tell you that.” “I’m not going anywhere with you until you do.” “Look, if you come with us I’ll tell you myself. I trust him with my life, and you should too,” my rescuer interceded. With a sigh, I conceded and let the Amazon put both of us into car seats in the back of his sedan. He closed the door, got back in the driver’s seat, and drove out into the street. “You owe me an explanation?” I turned and asked the Little. “You should know that the less we know about each other, the better. Never tell anyone who you are, where you came from, or where you’re going, unless they already know.” When he saw me nod, he continued, “As to where I got my equipment and training: I was a Hellcat.” “What’s a Hellcat?” I asked as we turned onto a main road. He tutted. “Enough questions. It won’t do either of us any good if I tell you more.” An hour later, the Amazon driver pulled off the highway we’d been driving on. As he got out of the car, I quickly undid the seat buckle, just to get some more practice at the complex task. That earned a wide-eyed stare from the Little. When the door beside me opened and the Big reached in to undo the buckle, he too sported a puzzled expression. “How did you do that?” He asked. “The buckle?” “Yeah, I’ve never met a Little who could undo it.” I snapped the straps closed again. “Push, twist, slide?” I demonstrated. The ex-Hellcat tried to reenact my movements, but his fingers slipped when he tried the twisting motion. “Interesting, we just have to push harder than you Littles can. That’ll come in handy for you though. If you ever need to escape in a jiffy, these buckles are standard for every device intended to restrain Littles.” “Why are we stopping in the middle of nowhere?” “To pass you on to another cell in the network who will get you where you need to go.” I nodded. “Thanks for rescuing me,” I said to both of them, as a strange, elongated vehicle pulled up behind their car. “Cheers,” the Big patted my shoulder as he picked me up, “this is what we do for our fellow human beings. Freedom is a right.” I was carried over to the strange vehicle whose falcon-wing door was open. He set me down on the carpeted floor inside. “Good luck,” the Big said. “Thanks,” I nodded and waved as he tapped the doorframe twice, as if he was signalling the driver to get going. Right on cue, the door shut pneumatically. A moment later, the vehicle started moving. It sounded like a Tesla from back home. There was no engine noise, only the muffled crunch of the wheels on the gravel of the highway’s shoulder. When ceiling lights lit up the interior, I gasped at my futuristic and luxurious surroundings. The entire body of the limousine was made of some sort of high-tech glass. What I’d assumed were lights illuminating had actually been the glass-like material of the roof and upper half of the side walls becoming transparent. I’d seen electrochromic tech before on airliners, but seeing it in such a large contiguity blew my mind. Just then, I realized that there was nothing underneath the windshield, and I could see right out the front of the limo! It was driving itself autonomously! I watched for a while as it accelerated to highway speed and turned my attention back to the interior furnishings. One long, white couch-bed stretched against one side of the spacious cabin from front to back, and curved there to form a loveseat against the back wall. The opposite wall had a strange looking cabinet recessed into it, with a variety of amenities behind transparent panels made of what looked like the same material as the limo body. I cringed when I saw that whoever had stocked the cabinet had graciously provided a stack of diapers for me. Just as I was wondering whether the limo had a TV screen, the entire side wall lit up. Wow, the glass was a screen too?? The logo of an AI reminiscent of a home or phone assistant back home sprung into animation with a bounce and a twirl. “Welcome, Isabelle, to the Luxuria Experience, I’m Luxuria,” a voice that sounded perfectly human annunciated. The tone could only be described as… luxurious? “Umm… hi. How do you know who I am?” I responded, slightly startled. I could feel my diaper warming. “I have some basic information on you that I received when your journey was created. Speaking of which, I wasn’t able to detect your privacy settings, so I’d like to go over them with you, as mandated by the International Data Protection Laws. First, would you like me to collect anonymous analytics from our interactions to improve my intent-parsing quality?” “Uhh… no thanks?” “Okay, I won’t use any analytics. Would you like me to connect to the internet for neural recognition? I can also remain entirely offline if you’d prefer.” Damn, this dimension’s privacy laws were just as amazing as their tech. Years ahead of us. “Offline please?” “Excellent choice, my voice recognition software is still state-of-the-art.” “Finally, would you like to enable holographic mode? I’d recommend it for an improved experience.” I thought about it for a second before replying. Holograms are cool. And harmless. Why not? “Sure,” I nodded. The limo body turned opaque again, and a bank of ‘lights’, which were really white pixels on the ceiling screen, lit up overhead. I watched with childlike fascination as the animated logo materialized out of the wallscreen and morphed into a humanoid-like body with flexible tubular arms that didn’t resemble anything I could think of. I couldn’t see where the projectors were, but it looked much more solid than I expected! When the avatar reached out with a hand, I shook it without thinking. Only after the act did I realize that I had just… touched light? “How is your projection solid? Isn’t it a hologram made of light?” “It is. The wave-particle duality of light allows photons in holograms to maintain a solid state under certain high-energy configurations, since photons are their own antiparticles,” Luxuria explained. “Interesting.” I didn’t know a lot about particle physics, but from what I did know, it was theoretically sound. We’d just never achieved a high enough energy density to do something like this on a scale larger than a few photons to reach any empirical confirmation. “My sensors predict that you’ll leak in about two minutes. Would you like a change?” I gave my padding a squish and disappointedly confirmed it. “I can do it myself,” I insisted indignantly, not wanting a hologram to… change me. Luxuria nodded and grabbed a diaper, powder and some wipes for me. I proceeded to flip my skirt up, untape my diaper, and wipe myself down. Halfway through, I looked up to the hologram’s eyes staring at me. “Umm… can you not?” “Sorry, but you do know that my projection is just that, right? The actual sensors and cameras are built into the vehicle’s interior.” The avatar picked up my dirty diaper and wipes. “Yeah but still,” I whined, skipping the powder and taping on a new diaper. Absolutely no need to degrade myself more than I already have. My parents had once told me that I’d taped my own diapers on as a toddler. I had a vague memory of it, but it was far too long ago for me to actually remember how I did it back then. The only thing I remember along those lines is having to wear stupid pull-up diapers at night. Instead, I based my taping on how the nannies had done it for me. It took a couple seconds of readjusting, but I got it done and ran a finger around the waistband to inspect my handiwork. Not bad for the first time in two decades. It’s definitely nicer when someone else does it for me though… Luxuria turned back around as I stood up and cleaned my hands with an extra wipe. “You did okay. Try to tape it on tighter so it doesn’t fall off when you wet it. And you should use the powder, it stops chafing and keeps your skin dry.” Okay?! Did I just get roasted by a robot? No, an AI. Har har. I stared at Luxuria. My stomach growled, interrupting my sulky thoughts. I was used to having dinner at the orphanage at 7 pm every day, and it was just past that according to the holographic clock. “Would you like something to eat? It’s just about dinnertime,” the AI noted, seemingly having either read my mind or detected my hunger. The time showed on the screen that made up an interior side wall of the limo, and the avatar gestured toward the strange cabinet. “Fine,” I replied, “are we going to stop somewhere for food?” Luxuria laughed, “No need to stop. The AmeniTea here is state-of-the-art; it can cook up anything you’d like. Wouldn’t you rather get to your destination sooner?” AmeniTea? I was confused, but I jogged over and found some drinkware. It looked like I would have to go with a milk-jug-sized mug, or a sippy cup that was my size. I sighed in defeat and grabbed one of the latter. I’d been drinking out of baby bottles and sippy cups the past few weeks, but it had never been my choice. I managed to convince myself that I didn’t really have a choice here either. I brought it over to a drink dispenser situated just above the level of the top of my head. I didn’t see any buttons or labels, but there was clearly a faucet on it. Probably detecting my confusion, Luxuria helpfully offered, “It’s a smart appliance. What would you like to drink?” “What options are there?” “It can make any drink you want, so long as it’s non-alcoholic, as mandated by the government under section 1012E of title 441 of the Little Statutes. The machine has miniaturized pods for several thousand different beverages. It unshrinks and dispenses every drink you can think of, and then some.” “Can I have an apple juice please?” I loved the apple juice they had here. Much richer in flavor than back home. “Sure, what temperature would you like it at?” Luxuria asked. “Uhh… I dunno, 50 degrees?” “Fahrenheit?” “Yeah, isn’t 50 celsius like, hot?” I questioned. Luxuria shrugged. “There’s people that like their juice hot. Put your sippy cup under the faucet.” I swear this AI is out to humiliate me. She just HAD to say the full baby term. I sighed and reached up — tipping my toes slightly — to do as she instructed. The second my hand left the cup, the room was flooded with the delightful aroma of apples and the cup filled with juice. I picked up the plastic vessel again — carefully since it was full — and took a sip. It was delicious! The aroma certainly helped, and I practically guzzled the rest of the cup. Luxuria refilled it for me, and turned the top half of the limo transparent so I could enjoy the splendid nature view on either side of the highway as I drank. I watched as the sun set, directly ahead of us, into mountains that I could just barely make out in the distance. It was the first sunset I’d seen in this dimension, and I was stunned by its beauty. The sun was much bigger, yet of softer tones, than back home, and the vivid colors streaked across the sky like a masterful watercolor painting. The moment was made even sweeter by my impending freedom that I could almost taste. I took a deep breath to savor the tranquility of everything. I’d come a long way from the dirty floor of a shack in the middle of nowhere. No matter where life brings me from here, this moment will be one that I’ll cherish for years to come. Chapter 8 — Exodus In the 10 minutes it took for the sun to set and the sky to turn dark, I’d gradually emptied my sippy cup and bladder. In one end and out the other. I heard an audible rumble from my stomach announcing the return of my dinner cravings. “So there’s miniaturized food as well?” I asked the hologram floating beside me. “The ingredients are miniaturized, yes, but each dish is made fresh. What would you like?” “Something spicy,” I answered without hesitation. Orphanage food had been filling but way too bland for my liking. I remembered a delicious burger recipe that my grandfather had often made for me when I was little. It would definitely make a good challenge for the robot cook. I went for it anyway, just to see what the machine was capable of. “Make me a burger with the buns buttered and toasted. Melt a slice of cheddar cheese on top of a beef patty, then add a slice of tomato, two half-rashers of bacon side-by-side, two slices of pickle side-by-side, two concentric onion rings, breaded and fried, and Buffalo sauce, in that order from bottom to top. Make a side of thick-cut sweet potato fries, topped with melted cheese and chipotle sauce. For dessert I’ll have mango sago pudding.” I was on a wishing spree! Take that, machine. There’s NO WAY you can make that. “You’re certain you can eat that much? Have you had any food not made for Littles since you got here?” I thought about Luxuria’s question for a moment. “Uhh… No, not really…” I finally put two and two together. If everything here is massive, then the food would be too. “Right, the size of the food. In that case, make the burger smaller and I’ll just have, say, 3 fries.” That I should be able to finish. I didn’t like wasting food. “Oh, and size the pudding down accordingly?” Luxuria nodded. “Will that be everything?” “Yup, thanks.” I confirmed, still confident that a machine would never be able to make a meal that complicated. Around twenty seconds later, the smell of the patty cooking started wafting from a glass panel on the AmeniTea. A table flipped out automatically from the opposing side wall, at just about the right height for me to sit and eat at, perched Japanese-style on the bed. Less than five minutes after I’d ordered, the panel slid open and revealed my dinner on a large porcelain plate. The avatar brought it over to the table as the AmeniTea panel slid shut again. “Bon appetit!” Luxuria beamed. I thanked her and clambered onto the bed with a small jump. After saying grace, I grabbed the burger with both hands and took a bite. It was the most delectable food I’d had in weeks! My first bite brought back a flood of childhood memories. I hadn’t had this meal in ages! I picked up a fry the size of a hot dog and brought it to my mouth. The sweet potato was fried to a golden crisp, but the size meant it was just slightly too mushy for my taste. The cheese melted a second time in my mouth, and my taste buds exploded satisfyingly from the spice of the Buffalo sauce. I may have been dubious of the robot’s capabilities, but by the time I finished the dish, I was convinced that the only downsides to it were the slightly off taste of unshrunken ingredients and something missing that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. When my plate was empty, Luxuria swapped it for my pudding, which also made for the perfect dessert for this experience. The food had tasted almost as good as my description sounded, and definitely better than “unshrunk meal” could ever sound! I was stuffed, but satisfied. After dinner, Luxuria put the pudding goblet into the AmeniTea, and the table sunk back into the wall. I heard a hiss and a light patter as both were cleaned… along with slightly more muted hiss coming from my diaper! A feeling of warmth spread through it. I’d just gone without any warning. “Would you like to see a movie?” the avatar offered, returning to its floating position facing me. “Sure. Anything sci-fi you can recommend?” I wanted to see what this dimension’s science fiction entertainment looked like, given that the world around me was basically sci-fi already. “I’ve got just the film.” I snuggled up to a soft cushion on the bed and watched as the screens delimiting the cabin lit up with billions of pixels blending together, each of which must have been too small for my eyes to register. Together, they seamlessly formed a realistic background of stars in space at a resolution that took my breath away. While I was somewhat prepared for that, I was definitely not expecting the Star-Wars-style scrolling text that was holographically projected in front of me. I let out a giggle of delight, both at the quality of the visuals, and at the absurdity of the retro style photobombing an otherwise incredibly futuristic setting. The movie was reminiscent of Interstellar, with realistic depictions of relativity and physics. If only more writers would depict science and technology more accurately. The single thing I hated the most about movies and books was the unrealistic depictions of hacking scenes. Hooded man furiously typing with green hieroglyphics and ones and zeros… The movie’s plot centered on the last human family searching the Milky Way for a habitable world. They teleported around the galaxy by folding the fabric of spacetime in a futuristic spacecraft. I never saw the twist coming, which was when the AI that helped the humans and kept them safe the whole time was actually hiding the habitable planet from them. I laughed out loud when it turned out to be caused by a bug in its code. You’d imagine their static analysis would have caught that. I looked worriedly at the avatar floating beside me, but Luxuria just shrugged. “I’m nothing close to a true AI, if that’s what you’re concerned about. There’s laws prohibiting military-grade machine intelligence.” The movie soon ended with the AI sacrificing itself for humanity’s greater good and the human family getting to the habitable planet safely with human embryos to settle the new world. It was a rather Disney-like cliche ending, but I liked movies that way. It sucks when a main character fails or dies. That’s what happens in life already, why make a movie or write a book about it? When the credits started rolling across the floor, up the side wall, and then back across the ceiling, I yawned and got up to stretch out my legs. I’d certainly had a long day. From an orphanage to a self-driving limo speeding across the country. I shook my head. It felt like I was living in a fantasy. A quick diaper change later, I was back on the massive bed hugging the cushion. Before I snoozed off, I said a quick nightly prayer. Dear God, Thanks for everything you do for me. I don’t know where exactly I’m heading, both in this limo and in life, but I know it’s to a good place you’ve prepared. Thanks for showing me once again that you care about me and love me. And thanks for sending these good people my way. Please keep all my friends safe too, and help me make the right moves. In Jesus’s name I pray, Amen. The next morning, I woke up to daylight and soft music. I blushed furiously when I found my thumb in my mouth. Must have been another stupid effect of that hypnosis. I’d never experienced this at the orphanage before, probably because I’d always been given a bottle or a pacifier to sleep with. I wiped the saliva off my thumb and rubbed my eyes as I sat up. All the cabin screens around me had been turned off, resulting in the glass body of the car being almost transparent. The scenery and asphalt sped by outside in an unnaturally fast blur that made my head hurt. “Morning Isabelle. Did you sleep well?” Luxuria greeted me as the limo body turned opaque again. “Morning. Yeah, I did, thanks. Umm… how fast are we going?” I asked in suspicion. “One-ten.” “Miles per hour?” “Yeah. There isn’t much autonomous traffic, and there’s good visibility, so the lanespeed is slightly higher than normal.” “Lanespeed? There’s a dedicated lane for self-driving vehicles with a dynamic speed limit?” “Indeed. Every autonomous vehicle is hooked up to Mothership, the central control system, so we can safely go faster than human-driven cars,” Luxuria explained. Mothership… Tesla? Is there even a Tesla in this dimension? “Is that also the reason I don’t have to be stuck in an annoying toddler car seat?” “Precisely. Speaking of toddlers, your diaper is at capacity again.” I could feel mush in the back this time, and I really didn’t want to change myself. I sighed and surrendered my last bit of perceived independence. To an AI. I looked away from the avatar, clasped my hands, and pawed at the floor with my foot. “Umm… Can you do it for me?” I asked Luxuria shyly. “Oh? I thought you did a pretty good job changing yourself before you slept?” The hologram floated gently into my field of view. Ugh. This thing is reeeeally annoying. I blushed. “Yeeaah, but there’s poop and I really don’t wanna do it,” I whined. Luxuria may have called me a “big baby” in jest at that point, but she grabbed the supplies necessary and gently untaped my diaper. The hologram’s zephyry movements were calming and efficient, and I soon had a fresh diaper taped on. The experience was so nice that I didn’t even complain when the avatar used the powder. When she was done changing me, I asked what time it was, just as we pulled onto an off-ramp and started to decelerate. “Eight fifty”, the time showed up on the screen again, this time in a light theme. I wonder if all IDEs have dark themes here. “We’re almost at our destination.” “Which is…?” “Sorry, I’ve been specifically instructed not to tell you. Can I get you some breakfast instead?” That was a little annoying of Luxuria, but I did understand the Railroad’s tangible concerns about disclosing information. “Milk and cereal?” “Sure, what kind of each would you like?” “Skim and Cinnamon Toast Crunch? Do you have that here?” “No, but we have something similar.” Luxuria went to the AmeniTea and fetched a pitcher of milk, a bowl and spoon, and a cute little cardboard box of cereal labelled ‘Cinna-Crisps’. I opened the box and the plastic cereal bag inside, and dumped all seven or eight pieces into the bowl. I grabbed one and ate it in two bites. It looked and tasted like an oversized version of a piece of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, but each circular crisp was the size of an Oreo! I poured enough milk to cover all the pieces, said grace, and started eating. When I finished it, Luxuria put everything back into the AmeniTea, and informed me that we’d arrived at our destination, just as I felt the limo stop. The large falcon-wing door lifted up and I saw that we were in some sort of garage. There was a van parked a few feet away, but there was nothing around that betrayed our location. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your Luxuria Experience, Izzy” she said as her avatar floated over to me. I jumped down from the bed. “I did, thanks. It was pretty amazing actually, especially you and the whole solid hologram thing.” “Happy to hear that.” Luxuria produced a lapel pin from somewhere and pinned it to the hem of my dress. “Here’s a profile microchip containing your privacy preferences and some basic information. Keep it on you until you upload it to the international federated blockchain.” She also handed me a bag with three spare diapers in it. “And these should last until you get more.” I blushed as I took it from her. “Gee, thanks,” I nodded semi-sarcastically and gave Luxuria a parting handshake. As annoying as she was, she’d been a pretty great companion. When I turned around, a Latina Mid came over from the van. Mark had told me about Mids, also known as In-Betweeners or just Betweeners. The term applied to the comparatively rare instances where a person was taller than a Little but not quite a Big. They were clearly as rare as Mike had claimed they were, since this was only my second time seeing one. “Hola Isabella, I’m Sofia,” she said in a thick Mexican accent. I was about to correct her about my name, but she seemed like the type of person that didn’t like being told she was wrong, so I kept my thoughts to myself and went with a polite “hi” and a small wave instead. Seeing that I wasn’t wearing any shoes, she told me, “I will take you over so you don’t get your feet dirty, reinita,” and picked me up out of the limo. “Good luck Izzy, and safe travels,” Luxuria wished as the hologram fizzled out. Sofia carried me over to the van, and set me down in the back. Once she made sure I was comfortably sitting in the lap of a giant teddy bear, she handed me a pacifier. “Put that between your teeth so they don’t break.” She ordered in a dead-serious tone. I was a little confused and intimidated by that, but I complied. Sofia shut the back doors and got in the cab. There was a plastic panel separating the cab and the back, which had no windows, so I couldn’t see outside at all. There was some light coming from the gap between the back doors though, which didn’t quite touch each other when they were closed. I perked my ears up instead, and listened as she started the engine and pulled out of the garage. The van was magnitudes less soundproofed than the limo had been, so I could hear every surface that we drove on, from the clank of a metal drain covering to the smooth hum on asphalt. The van clearly didn’t have A/C, so I was starting to sweat a lot. About twenty minutes into the sweltering drive, Sofia yelled out “hold on mi amor!” to me and violently swerved off-road. I heard the coarse crunch of the gravel shoulder for a split second, and then the finer crunch of hard-packed dirt as the van shook and bounced over the uneven ground. The shaking and noise increased in severity as we picked up speed, and I was now glad I had the pacifier. Clearly Sofia hadn’t been joking about breaking my teeth, as my bones felt like they were being jostled out of their sockets! Suddenly, I heard a loud CRACK, and then the wailing of a siren nearby. Sofia swore but didn’t let off on the gas, and the siren slowly faded. I was starting to fear that the van would shake itself apart as I was flung into the air from a particularly deep rut. After a few more minutes and a couple turns, I felt the vibrations dampen out as she slowed to a stop. I unclenched my hands, extremely relieved to still be alive. Luckily the bear’s soft stuffing had protected me from the worst of the bumps, but my diaper got soaked from the bone-jarring ride! I felt the van shift as Sofia got out, and then bright light streamed in when Sofia threw the doors open, causing me to blink. She picked me up and carried me out of the van, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. I trembled in fear and panic as I took in the landscape around me. It was an arid desert, being burned by a scorching sun. Small shrubs broke the sandy ground here and there, and stout mountains loomed nearby. I felt a trickle of pee down my leg as I flooded my diaper beyond its leaking point. That served as a painfully ironic symbol for everything that had gone wrong, for my chances of freedom and living a life had just leaked away. Sofia smiled and told me, “Bienvenido a Méhico!” Chapter 9 — True North Strong and Free I sobbed into my pacifier, too dumbfounded to struggle, utterly broken. Why had I been so stupid to trust these people?! When she heard my sobs and saw my tears, Sofia looked concerned and rubbed my back in an attempt to comfort me, but I was going into a full meltdown. “Ay hey Isabella! Calm down! You are safe, I was only ahh, what is de word, ahh, kidding, kidding! I was kidding! Cálmate, princesa, cálmate,” she soothed, hugging me tightly. “Yer wying! Dersh no dezherch in Canada!!” The stupid pacifier was distorting my speech, but it was doing is job of keeping me somewhat calmer than totally berserk. “Mi amor, we are in de Okanagan, in de south of de British Colombia. You are safe, reinita, I just helpet you cross de border!” Her Mexican accent got even thicker when she was stressed, and she looked like she was about to explode from anxiety. “Cwoss de bohduh indu Mexico?” “No no! Canada!” “Pwove it! I dun bewieve you!” Sofia sighed and pulled out a thin, flexible rectangle of plastic. She swiped a gesture on it and opened a maps app. I could see the position indicator indicating that we were just inside the border with Canada, and the background even showed the mountains and labeled the desert as the Okanagan. At this point, I relaxed enough to realize that the best proof I hadn’t been kidnapped to Mexico was right in front of me: Sofia wouldn’t be going through all this trouble to show me where we were when she could easily just overpower me. A few moments later, a black SUV pulled up beside us, and an eleven- or twelve-foot-tall Amazon got out. I’d seen enough giants at this point to not flinch, but I still stayed alert. He ran over to me and gave me a quick inspection, a massive hug, and a kiss on the forehead before I could even react. So much for staying alert. “I’m so glad you’re safe, Isabelle.” He turned to Sofia and shook her free hand. “Thanks for bringing Isabelle over the border. You people are the ultimate heroes.” “You are welcome, Señor. Protect her, the hunters are everywhere I hear.” Sofia passed me over to him, along with the satchel of spare diapers Luxuria had provided. “I will, absolutely.” “Freedom is a right!” She waved and turned around to get back in her van. That phrase again. “Hold on. Who are you and why am I going with you if I’m already in Canada?” I demanded. I was done with not knowing. From now on I’m finding out everything before I do anything. “You’re fifty klicks from the nearest town and less than one from the border. Acimeran border forces have been known to cross over to recapture escaped Littles, which is exactly what you are right now,” he reasoned. “All I’m gonna do is take you further into Canada so you don’t die in the wilderness or get sent back to an orphanage. Any objections?” “No,” I huffed. The Amazon walked the few paces over and laid me down in the back of the SUV. “Hey! What are you doing?!” I protested when he flipped my dress up. He stopped and calmly said, “you wanna sit in your leaky diaper?” “No,” I begrudgingly acknowledged. He proceeded to change me into a diaper from the bag of spares. I sighed, red-faced, when he finished and buckled me into a car seat in the back. So much for knowing everything. Things really weren’t under my control here. At least he was gentle and didn’t try anything. “Okay Izzy, I’m Mike.” He glanced at some kind of holographic heads-up display and started driving away from the border along a small dirt track. “The reason I didn’t tell you my name earlier is because I didn’t want anyone from the Railroad to know my identity. Just a safety precaution.” “How did you know I like to be called Izzy?” I asked suspiciously. “I run an automatic bug scan on everyone that comes near my property, which includes my car. You’re clean, but you’ve got a microchip on you with a bunch of your privacy preferences, which ironically includes your preferred name in conversation. Are you okay with me calling you that?” *** I really did scan her and find the chip, even though that wasn’t where I got her name from. I didn’t want to let on to any more than I needed to right now. She’ll have plenty of time to fully comprehend the magnitude of what I did for her. Or leave. That was a grim thought. I’d snuck a tracking chip with an integrated mic onto her dress the moment she was in my arms, just in case she was dumb enough to choose that option and ended up needing my help. As much as I wanted to, I wasn’t going to stop her from doing that though. “Yeah, you can call me whatever,” she replied as I turned onto a paved road. Deep breath, explain the situation. You got this. “Okay. I want you to know that everything I’m doing for you is to help you. If at any point you want to leave, tell me and I’ll stop the car and you can go wherever you’d like. Just please be careful. However, I recommend that you stay with me for the time being, for your own safety. Even though Canada is a million times better than the US for Little Rights, you’re unfortunately still in danger of being kidnapped by Little Hunters from the US. They WILL smuggle you back across the border and they WILL sell you to the highest bidder before you can say ‘True North Strong and Free’. Because of them, most Littles here actually choose to stay with a Big family or friend for safety’s sake. In fact, it’s so common that we have a name for it: homestay.” “Where are we going?” She asked as I took the on-ramp onto the highway to Penticton. It was a pretty big detour from our final destination, but I didn’t want to drive all the way to the west coast before Isabelle got her citizenship, just in case we got pulled over. “Well first we’re going to the Immigration and Refugee Board for your asylum hearing, where you’ll get registered and get your Canadian citizenship.” Boy did she want to know everything! I guess that’ll help her survive in this dimension, so it isn’t exactly a bad thing… Makes her about as annoying as a toddler though. “They hand out citizenships just like that?” She snapped her cute little fingers to punctuate her point. “To Littles who manage to get to Canada alive, yes. There’s a special clause in the Refugee Act from about twenty years ago.” “The US doesn’t care?” “They tried to stop them at first. When people protested and Canada caused a huge international scene with the first escaped Littles, the US struck a deal with us allowing Littles that cross the border to stay without persecution. In exchange, Canada still has the Safe Third Country Agreement for non-Little illegal immigrants, plus extradition.” “So I can be fully legal and everything?” Izzy’s face lit up in an adorable smile. “Yup, should be pretty much guaranteed.” I kept the other tricks I had up my sleeve to ensure that, including the fact that I’d sponsored her application, to myself. “What happens after that?” “We can stop at Tims for lunch?” “Who’s Tim?” I chuckled. “Tims, or Tim Hortons, is just about Canada’s biggest coffee shop chain. Has been for decades.” She nodded and turned back to the scenery out the window. “What’s a Hellcat?” Izzy suddenly asked a while later, when we were about halfway there. “You met one?” “The guy that broke me out. He was a Little and said he’d been a Hellcat? So, what’s a Hellcat?” “Wow, cool. I didn’t know Hellcat vets were in the Railroad. The Hellcats are an international team of elite special forces. They’re above the law and protected as such by UN resolutions. They’re the best of the best in CQB, and they carry out counter-terrorist and hostage-rescue operations around the world. No Big unit can match their cool, speed, finesse and precision. You were in good hands.” Izzy had a shocked, then sheepish look on her face as I said that. “What’s wrong?” I asked, slightly concerned. “I umm… kinda fought them behind the orphanage.” Her face turned bright red and she looked away from the rear-view mirror where I could see her. I decided to have some fun at her expense. “Ahh you’d better watch your butt now, you’ve probably pissed off their whole regiment.” I teased. “What?!” She squeaked. “Kidding.” I smiled at her and she chuckled nervously. Soon, I pulled into the parking lot in front of the Penticton office of the IRB and parked. There fortunately weren’t many other cars there, so I was able to find a spot in the small lot. Izzy had dozed off en-route, and her pacifier that was clipped to her dress had adorably found its way back into her mouth. It bobbed in and out there with each breath she took. She looked so precious! I gently brushed her cheek with my fingers to wake her up, almost regretting disturbing her. “Hey Sleeping Beauty, we’re here,” I chimed. She stirred and I undid the straps on her car seat. “Sorry about the seat, it’s a federal height law and honestly safer for you.” I’d forgotten to explain that to her earlier since I was focused on getting her away from the border, and I tried to make up for it now. “Mmmm,” she moaned. I was about to set her on the ground when I noticed she wasn’t wearing any shoes. Because of this observation, I made a split-second decision and changed my movement at the last minute, swinging Izzy awkwardly for a fraction of a second and accidentally bringing the sleepy girl out of her slumber. *** I felt myself pulled up suddenly in a motion that jolted me wide awake. I looked around and realized that we were in front of a small single-story office. The lower part of the shiny black coat of the SUV that we’d arrived in was caked in a layer of dust, and the rear passenger door was open. The Amazon… Mike… closed it and apologized to me, “Sorry for waking you up, Izzy, but I just realized you weren’t wearing any shoes.” “Huh? Oh ish okay…” I rubbed my eyes and waved it off. He nodded at that, and carried me in through the front glass door on his hip. The SUV pipped behind us, signaling the doors locking, even though Mike clearly didn’t do anything apart from walk away from it. Bluetooth? RF? NFC? Probably something similar, but more advanced. Aargh, I wish I could learn all of their tech! There were a couple people waiting around inside the air-conditioned office, most of them seated on a row of cushioned chairs along a wall. Heads turned to stare disapprovingly at us when we walked in. I let my pacifier fall to where it was clipped to my dress and gawped back at them. “Why are they looking at us like that?” I whispered to Mike as he sat down with me on his lap. He sighed and whispered back, “Adoption is illegal in Canada. There are, however, a lot of Littles that choose to live like they do in the majority of the US. Some of them are used to the carefree lifestyle from before they escaped, others saw the bright sides of the lifestyle and wanted in. But when they go out and do official government things, like what we’re doing right now, they usually dress and behave as adults. This is the IRB, so you’re dressed just as inappropriately as, say, if you were wearing pajamas or a bikini.” I giggled quietly at the picture. “Some of them probably even think I kidnapped you or I’m forcing you to do this.” An official-looking Little clerk walked over to us carrying a transparent tablet, her lips pursed disapprovingly. This was the first Little I’d seen working a job, and it very much set the tone for what Canada would be like for me. “Sir, I’m going to ask you to let her sit by herself,” she told Mike. She addressed both of us as he lifted me to an empty adjacent chair. “Miss…” she looked at her tablet for a moment, “Green, please be considerate of others the next time you pick an outfit to wear to a government office. I’ll let you both stay this time, but be warned that if you dress and behave like this next time, someone will likely ask you to leave.” I tried to start explaining to the lady, but Mike squeezed my hand to stop me, and I complied with a sigh. The clerk tapped at her tablet and gave us a number two greater than the one displayed on a TV hanging from the ceiling. “When your number shows up, please go into office number three over there, and an agent will help you out,” she instructed, pointing to the TV. “Miss Green must go in alone, per our privacy policies,” she looked threateningly at Mike. I nodded and Mike thanked her, and she seemed to be somewhat put off by that. She blinked and turned to speak to one of the others waiting. After about 10 more minutes, the display updated to mine and I jumped down from the chair. “They’re there to help you, so don’t lie about anything. Answer every question truthfully and provide as many details as you can. Good luck, I’m here if you need me,” Mike reassured. I nodded and walked over to the ajar wooden door labeled with a fancy calligraphic 3, my socked feet slipping on the floor tiles. The Amazon man inside looked up in surprise when I pushed it open and walked in. “What on earth are you wearing?!” He gasped, but quickly recovered. “Okay, okay, can you close the door?” When I did so, he took a deep breath and continued, “Okay… Isabelle, I’m Agent Duncan Schmidt with the IRB. I want you to know that you’re completely safe here. No one else, including the Big that I’m told you came with, will hear about anything you tell me, understand? And please have a seat.” I nodded, climbing onto a chair in front of his desk. “Okay, so I need to know, is he forcing you to dress like this? If so, that's illegal, you have every right that any other person in Canada has. We don’t discriminate by height or size here.” “No no, he isn’t. I just escaped from an orphanage in the US, and I haven’t exactly got anything to change into yet,” I explained nervously. He looked unconvinced, but dropped the matter. “Okay, so I need to confirm a few things with you. Can you state your full name and date of birth?” “Isabelle Dauphin Green,” I answered, followed by my date of birth. He nodded and tapped a couple things on his tablet. “You crossed the US border today and came straight here?” “Yeah,” I nodded. “I have it here on your application that you came via portal from the other dimension?” “Yeah,” I nodded. Application? “What was the date of your dimensional entry?” “Uhh…” I blanked on this one. I’d never bothered to ask anyone for the date, and no one had ever told me. “This past July?” I ventured vaguely. The chess tournament had taken place sometime in mid-July, and I knew that the dates were the same here as back home. Agent Schmidt looked at me suspiciously. “You don’t have the exact date?” “Umm… no, sorry.” “Okay, which portal did you go through? The name given by either dimension is fine.” “Uhhh… I…” How am I supposed to name the localized portal that the UN made?! “The UN one?” “What UN one?” “The one the UN made for me?” “What?? How am I supposed to help you if you make up answers to my questions?!” He looked exasperated, and he’d succeeded in scaring me. I started sobbing my heart out for the second time that day. Chapter 10 — Canadian, Eh? Thanks to the tracker I’d put on Izzy, I was able to listen as Agent Schmidt lost it and Izzy began to cry. Thank God I did that. I sighed as I got up and walked to the office. The Little employee tried to stop me, but I flashed my UN credentials and she stepped out of the way. I opened the office’s door to a depressing sight. Izzy was sobbing and the agent had his head in his hands, clearly too inexperienced for the situation at hand. He looked up at me, as if pleading for help, wanting to complain, and feeling guilty all at the same time. I sighed, picked Izzy up, and sat down with her on my lap. Her head nuzzled into my chest and I slipped her paci back into her mouth before gently patting her back to sooth her. “There there, I know you’ve had a tough day, let me handle it from here, eh?” I quietly comforted the poor girl as I slid my credentials across the desk with my free hand. “She’s telling you the truth,” I told Schmidt, turning my gaze back to him. “I was the one that brought her to this dimension. We opened up a localized portal and saved her from drowning. She’s actually right about the UN part; you can just choose ‘Other’ in the list of locations and enter ‘UN’ into the system.” He nodded and quickly did that. “Now, I can tell you’re new to this, so let me remind you of Rule 323 in your handbook. Isabelle here is a Little, obviously, and she has a sponsor, me. That means she can be fast-tracked through the refugee registration process and get her citizenship and passport now. I saw a stack of blanks in the office across the hall.” Schmidt nodded again and asked a few more questions, all of which I answered for Izzy, who’d managed to calm down and stop sniffling. The agent then got a blank passport from the opposing room and uploaded all her documents to it, along with the full-body scans I’d stolen from the orphanage servers. It was safer for Izzy that they didn’t have the scans — one less data leak to worry about. It had been a walk in the park to hack their servers and delete it after my data transfer anyway. It took just a few minutes for the central office in Ottawa to remotely approve and activate Izzy’s new passport, and we were on our way out in no time. I made sure to thank the agent for helping us, as well as the nice Little who’d both let us stay and tried to stop me. People doing their jobs thoroughly were worthy of a pat on the back, even if they got in my way. *** Mike buckled me into the car seat and handed me my passport, which consisted of a rectangle of plastic that looked like a smaller version of Sofia’s phone. “Fanks, Mike, fuh…” I paused to spit the pacifier out, “for that back there. I had no idea you were the one that brought me to this dimension… so umm… thanks… for saving my life.” “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Congrats on becoming Canadian, you deserve it.” I nodded, but one question still burned: “But why did the UN just dump me in a shack in the middle of nowhere?” Mike sighed, “I’m sorry, Izzy. I’m really sorry for what happened to you with Karen. That was our release team’s fault. You were supposed to go to Kate, Karen’s younger, richer and less heartless sister. Unfortunately, she died from a car accident just before you would have, and, well, that wasn’t something anyone expected and Karen ended up getting custody.” And now she’s IN custody. Hehe. “Again, I’m sorry. I never would’ve let that happen had I known. Most of the time the system works, but sometimes it doesn’t, and there’s nothing we can do except try to fix it.” “It’s okay,” I reassured him, “it’s not your fault I guess. The irony though.” “Yeah,” he breathed. “So, you wanna get the full Tims experience to celebrate your new Canadianness or go for drive-thru?” “It’s safe to go in, right?” I needed to be sure. “Yeah, you should be safe, especially since I’ll be there with you.” “Let’s do that then. I’d never been to Canada back home, might as well see it all now?” “Excellent choice,” Mike commended as we pulled up to park in front of the coffee shop. I got the seat straps off and opened the door… and Mike got to my side just in time to catch me from almost falling out! “Easy there, Tiger,” he steadied me and picked me up. “Hmm, I thought those buckles were supposed to be Little-proof?” “I’ve got a knack,” I shrugged. The SUV pipped again as we entered the Tim Hortons. “How is your car locking itself? Bluetooth?” “Yep, it’s a distance measurement feature. It measures the Doppler effect on the Bluetooth signal waves. You know what Doppler is?” “Frequency of the wave changes as the distance changes, right?” “Wow, you’re smart. What would little miss genius like for lunch?” I stared at the expansive menu, not quite sure of what I wanted, as we joined the line to order. “Afternoon folks, what can I get ya?” A robot server asked. “Chicken salad croissant, combo with a large, dark roast, Double Double and a hashbrown, please.” Mike told it, turning to look at me. “I uhh…” I still hadn’t made up my mind yet, but Mike’s meal was sounding pretty good. “I’ll have the same please, but a donut instead of the hashbrown?” “Excellent choice,” the android smiled. “Make her coffee a Small,” Mike interjected. “Sure. How would you like it?” It asked me. “Decaf, three cream, three sugar, please.” “Excellent, what donut would you like?” “This one, please and thank you,” I pointed at a cruller which it fished out with a pair of tongs and put in a paper bag for me. “You’re very welcome, have a seat anywhere and we’ll bring your food over in a moment.” “Decaf?” Mike questioned, sitting me down at a table and then joining me on the other side of it. I noticed that my seat was much taller than his, so the table was the right height for both of us. Quite a clever design. “I drink coffee for the flavor, not the caffeine,” I explained. On a whim I also noted, “That robot was really good at language parsing. And being nice.” “Oh? And I’m not eh?” He kidded and I laughed. “Well you’re not a robot,” I stuck my tongue out at him. “Mmm.” He nodded and continued in a less joking tone, “Welcome to Canada. Most of us — robots and people — are like this: we respect everyone regardless of size. We even have Littles on all levels of government.” “Well I’m liking it. Better than the crap I had to put up with in the States.” “Watch your language!” Mike chastised, making me jump slightly. “There’s kids around,” he reasoned, motioning towards a family of Amazons beside me. I glanced over and spotted the mother shooting daggers at me. “Sorry.” I sheepishly apologized as another robot arrived with our food. “Bon appetit!” It wished, before leaving with an empty tray from the table beside ours. “By the way, Canadians call ‘three cream, three sugar’ ‘Triple Triple’. ‘Double Double’ means two of each and ‘Regular’ means one of each. “Oh… I was wondering what you meant by that.” I was about to dig in when I realized something. “Uhh… Mike?” “What’s up?” “We didn’t pay,” I pointed out matter-of-factly. “We did, it’s automatic. See?” He tapped at the air a few times and suddenly a hologram of the receipt floated in the air in front of me. “Whoa, that’s so cool! Where’s the projector?” “It’s part of my state-of-the-art cyrano.” The hologram disappeared as he showed me a black earpiece that I’d thought was a rather old-fashioned Bluetooth earbud. I nodded and quickly said grace, before grabbing a bite of the croissandwhich. It was really good! The orphanage food I’d been eating had really prepped up my taste buds for all the proper food since my escape. By the time I finished savoring the sandwich bite by bite, Mike had finished his meal. He laughed when I picked up the honey cruller donut with both hands. It was the size of a small cake for me! “What’s the deal with you Littles and your sweets?” He smirked. “All Littles like sweets?” I questioned. “Every single one that I’ve known or heard of.” “Must be some kind of gene or something,” I offered. “Maybe…” When I finished the donut, Mike took all the garbage to the nearby bank of bins and sorted them into some 10 different types. They must really care about the environment here to go through that big of a hassle with their garbage. “C’mon, let’s go. I need to get you some shoes soon, it’s getting tiring holding you!” he remarked while picking me up again. I laughed. “You know, I kinda like it when you carry me around. Nobody’s done that for me in years!” My eyes welled up slightly as I recalled my dad carrying me as a kid when I was too tired to walk, but I shook it off. Enough tears for a day. Mike checked my diaper discreetly and whispered, “You’re soaked, you want changed?” I nodded thanks. Screw Karen, taking away all my potty training like that. *** I brought up Izzy’s situation again on the highway to Vancouver, “Where do you wanna go?” She stopped suckling on the bottle of water I’d given her. “What do you mean?” “Well, you’re no longer an illegal immigrant, you’ve got your passport, you’re a lot safer now. You still wanna come with me, or I can drop you off somewhere?” “I’d be safer with you, right?” “I think so.” “And I’ll still be free to go whenever?” “Of course.” “I’ll stick with you for now then, if that’s okay? It’s not like I’ve got anywhere else in particular to go.” “Absolutely, Izzy, I’m glad that that’s what you want.” “Are you gonna charge me rent or… how’s that gonna work?” “Don’t sweat it. It’s the least I can do for ya after everything that happened. If you get a job someday and you still want to pay me back then… we can cross that bridge when we get there, kay? Right now I don’t want you to worry about a thing.” “Thank you so much Mike. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. People like you in the Railroad are just amazing…” She thinks I’m with the Railroad. Should I tell her? What would her reaction be? She’s already decided to stay with me on her own volition… I mulled over this a bit and decided to keep it to myself for the time being. If she found out somehow, that would be great, but I wouldn’t be the one to tell her. I spent the rest of the drive chatting with Izzy about her home dimension and mine, comparing differences and noting some surprising similarities. She was an amazing person, and she’d been an aspiring chess player, steps away from her GM title, until the unfortunate incident happened. I promised her that I would do my best to find a way for her to play professionally, even though it would probably require pulling a lot of strings. The first step would involve getting her a chess set, so, seeing as she also needed clothes, diapers, shoes, and everything short of furniture in her size, I drove to a massive outlet mall I knew of in Langley. This time Izzy was more careful with her exit, and waited for me to get to her side before getting up from her car seat. She held her arms out to be picked up and I obliged her with a kiss on her forehead. I stuck a finger into her waistband to check her diaper, which earned me an “Eeep!” It was wet again, so I quickly changed her in the back of the car. “This is the last one in your baggie, we definitely need to get you some more, eh?” I noted and was met with bashful nodding. I knew I couldn’t carry both her and everything we were getting, so I made a beeline for the robocarts once we were inside. I double-tapped a black one and it rolled off its charging dock. I set Izzy down in the padded seat behind the basket for unique purchases, set it to follow me autonomously, and headed for the first shop on my cyrano’s list. On our way there, I asked Izzy an important question: “Aside from diapers which you obviously need, are there any other baby-Little things that you want? You seem pretty glued to that paci for instance? It’s perfectly normal for you to be attached to things like that from your time in the US.” I consciously left out the hypnosis she’d been subject to, in hopes of not triggering PTSD. She’d been through enough for one day. She looked a little red faced and quickly spat the paci out, catching it with her hand. “I’m sorta… drawn to these… they’re really soothing for some reason. Bottles as well,” she added reluctantly, “They’re more relaxing to drink out of and next to impossible to spill. I think the addiction might have something to do with getting hypnotized, that’s how I lost my potty training?” “Makes sense. We can do that. You want some more cute clothes too?” “Ooh I got put in these footed sleepers that were so fuzzy and comfortable, I’d love some of those. I actually had one back home too. And I won’t mind some more pretty dresses either!” She smiled at me and I smiled back. “Sure thing, princess.” She was so precious! Chapter 11 — Some Things Can’t Be Bought This Robocart thing — that’s what the sign on the charging dock called it anyway — is so high-tech. I’ve seen similar robots being used to make deliveries and shelve books in libraries, but never as grocery carts. This is genius though. You never have to worry about leaving your cart somewhere and having to find it again, or having to push it through a crowd of people… The size of the basket doesn’t make sense though… Why is it so small? It certainly wouldn’t fit the list of items that Mike mentioned he was buying… Several store employees greeted us with a smile, but they never offered to help us. Soon, I figured out that only the people with red carts got offered help, and I was sitting in a black one. Apparently, Mike didn’t think we needed any help. When we reached the first aisles of items, I noticed something was off immediately. “Uhh Mike? Why are there only demos of everything and no actual stock?” “Oh I can just scan the barcode with my cyrano and it’ll be added to our virtual cart. We’ll pay at checkout and then pick up everything from the dispensary. Here, you wanna help me scan? That should give you something to do other than look around and keep you from being bored to death?” He fished something that looked like a large signet ring out of a pocket and handed it to me. I took the device from him. It was really light and seemed to be made of plastic. “That is such a brilliant idea!” I couldn’t believe that no one in my dimension had thought of this shopping model before. I never liked online shopping because I couldn’t see and feel the actual product. VR previewing was a thing, but that could only go so far. We’d yet to perfect reproducing textures and the feeling of holding a physical sample in your hands with haptic feedback. On the other hand, in-person shopping was slow and frustrating. People spent way too much time getting things off shelves and into their carts, not to mention all the checkout lines. “I know, right? Best of both worlds.” He seemed to be thinking along the same lines. I twirled the ring around my finger. “Kay, how does this work?” “Point the lens at a barcode and press on the back — there’s a pressure switch under the polycarbonate there. The scanner will vibrate every time it reads the code. If we get two of the same item just scan the same thing twice, and so on; one scan per count.” We reached our first stop in an aisle full of all sorts of different diapers, and Mike tossed me a Frozen-3-themed sample, covered in little snowflakes, Elsas, and Annas. I caught it like a frisbee and brushed my fingers over the fabric of the padding. It felt like I was touching a cloud! “Whoa, this is so soft! Makes the ones I’ve been wearing feel like sandpaper.” “MapleLove. It’s a Canadian brand, and we tend to do things right, even if we don’t really advertise that on the international scene. Scan it twice for two cases for now, eh?” He smiled. “Kay,” I nodded. “Oh right, what size are you?” “Err… I’m not sure?” “Okay, stand up and let me check.” I begrudgingly complied and let him lift my dress up to see. It felt like my wet diaper was exposed for the entire world’s viewing pleasure, and I was definitely going to die from embarrassment! “The princess is of size four,” Mike proclaimed in a whisper, chuckling when he saw the color of my face. “What’s wong, pwincess don’t wike her diapees shown off?” I whacked his arm. “Not funny, Mike. You try it sometime.” He smirked and handed me another diaper from the same brand. This one was covered in little translucent robot characters that reminded me of EVE from WALL-E. I didn’t recognize the characters though, so it was probably a Disney movie from this dimension. Hang on… “Why is this one so thick?” “It’s a nighttime diaper. Extra capacity so you don’t leak. One case should be plenty for now, we can always restock online.” I nodded and scanned it. Mike walked over to an adjacent aisle and the robocart followed suit. This one displayed an assortment of pacifiers and bottles. I was seeing more of these today than I’d ever seen in my entire life. “Any in particular that you like?” “Anything but the ones that expand. Those hurt like hell. Also, pink isn’t my color.” He nodded and picked up a Blue/Green/Purple 3-pack and matching bottles. He also grabbed a plaque for a case of wipes and a wipe warmer, something I’d never heard of but he assured me I would love. Just as I finished scanning all of them, I heard a female voice call out. “Mike! Didn’t expect to see you here today. How’s it going?” I looked up and saw a middle-aged Big with a Little in a sling of sorts. “Hey Maria! Going pretty well, yourself?” As she drew closer, she was about to respond when she saw me. “I’m— Oh my gosh, that’s… that’s…” “Isabelle,” Mike helped her out. “What’s going on, Mike? Why is she here?” “I’m just getting her some clothes and stuff. As you know, the release team screwed up and she got messed up pretty badly in the US, but she managed to get to the Railroad. I met her at the border. The paperwork is all done, I sponsored her and she’s Canadian now,” he smiled. “Wow, I’m glad you’re okay. Maria Torelli, I’m the physician on Mike’s team at the DRC.” She repositioned the sling and reached out her hand, and I grasped it in an awkward handshake. Our hands had so much of a size difference that I would have done better shaking only a finger or two! “This is Michelle, my adopted Little girl— Ooh! Hi snookums! You’re awake!” She looked down and gave Michelle her full attention, gently playing with her for a moment and then sitting her up. I took the opportunity to give Mike an uncomfortable look. He seemed to understand why, and put his hand reassuringly on my shoulder. “Ask her about it.” “Umm… Maria? No offence, but I thought adoptions were illegal here?” She looked back at me and lightly bounced Michelle, who had her thumb in her mouth and was cooing softly. “None taken. In the vast majority of situations, yes. So don’t worry, Mike can’t adopt you, even if you wanted him to, which I very much doubt.” She paused and he chuckled. “But special cases are granted for the few regressed Littles that somehow end up in Canada. Usually it only happens when an adoptive parent in the US screws up somehow, and the Railroad rescues the Little. It’s really a needle in a haystack though. Unfortunately Michelle’s regression was clinically proven to be irreversible, so she’s stuck like this for the rest of her life.” “Fortunately for her, I love her very very much, and I take very good care of her,” she told Michelle friskilly with a kiss. The Little girl in her arms just stared blankly into the distance with empty eyes and a blissful smile. I could tell that she was just a shell of a body, with no personality, no thoughts, and barely any consciousness. It was as if her brain was disconnected with reality. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. Maria does seem to love and care about her though. Somewhere in my subconscious, a sliver of envy panged at just how much love Michelle was getting. Having always been the mushy, clingy one in the family, and ridiculed for it, I was a sucker for affection. Mike had definitely given me plenty with his hugs and kisses, especially considering we’d literally met less than 16 hours ago, but a little part of me couldn’t help but crave more of that. Just thinking about it made me feel fuzzy and warm. “Well, we’d better get going, this one needs her diapee changed.” She remarked. Turning to me, she continued, “Looking like you could use one yourself, eh?” The fuzziness dissipated and the warmth relocated to my face at her remark. I wanted to dig a hole and jump into it! I took a sharp breath, but got it together enough to wave goodbye to Michelle as Mike said “See ya!” and Maria disappeared down another aisle. Mike then turned to move to the adjacent store, and the robocart trailed him. From a quick history lesson Mike gave me on the spot, this one seemed to be this dimension’s version of Oshkosh. I cringed a bit at that, but I did ask for cute clothes, and beggars couldn’t be choosers, so I kept my complaints to myself. We found the toddler footwear section, where a friendly sales associate measured my feet to ascertain my new shoe size. Once Mike entered it into his cyrano, I scanned a pack of cute animal socks and another pack of normal pastel colored ones. In the same section, we also picked up a pair of sandals, sneakers to which Mike hilariously referred as “running shoes”, and some cute and furry booties that looked like a pair of little kittens. They were all adorably brightly colored and adorned with cute designs, but a distinctive compass icon on each of them caught my eye. Mike saw me fingering the icon patch on the sandals after I’d scanned them, and explained, “It means they come with GPS tracking tags. It’s a really common feature used to prevent children from getting lost. You can hardly find any kids’ shoes without them these days. We can always disable them or even rip the chips out altogether if you’d like, but I don’t think we’ll find any shoes here that fit you and come without ’em.” In an adjacent section, we found racks of dresses, onesies, rompers, and footed sleepers of various designs and sizes. It turned out that clothes shopping was exactly like back home, since there were several duplicates of each of the hundreds of styles, with retail tags on them. So that explained the robocart basket. Mike grabbed several dresses and sleepers that caught my eye for me. The adorable toddler and fashionable adult dress designs from this dimension both looked amazing, and I could see myself wearing just about anything on the racks. Just to be safe though, I did also get Mike to find me some plain jeans and t-shirts. We headed for the fitting rooms, where I tried on my selections and modeled a few for Mike. He cracked up when I put on a unicorn-themed dress, complete with a matching glittering horn headband. I also had to enlist his help with some of the designs that zipped up the back, which I felt were a pain and decided not to get, even though they looked really cute! I was still very unused to being in a fitting room with another person, even though said person had literally changed my diaper several times by then. It was just something I hadn’t done since I was a little girl. Guess I AM one again. Honestly, I’m still not sure how I feel about that. Thankfully, Mike had the same basic fashion sense as me, so we went through the giant pile of clothes in record time. After trying everything on, I made a few edits to my selections and scanned everything. Mike then put the clothes in the robocart’s basket. On our way out of the store, he took a detour through the stuffed animal section. “Anything you’d like here? Plenty of adults have giant plushies… I may or may not have one myself,” he smiled and gave me a playful wink. “Hmm…” What the heck. Might as well go all the way and splurge on my cuddling desires. “Can I have a dolphin?” I pointed at a pile of them, each one the same size as me. “Sure, princess. It’s your middle name, right?” He grabbed one and set it in the basket. “Well my middle name’s supposed to be the title of the crown prince of France, but it does have multiple meanings, so sure.” After I scanned the stuffies, we proceeded to an IKEA-like store on the other side of the mall. There, Mike had me scan everyday things like cutlery, a sonic teeth cleaner, a desk and chair, and a bed, none of which he had in my size. When he asked if I wanted a crib or a regular bed, I told him about how much I hated the stupid cribs at the orphanage for how prison-esque they felt and how I relished my freedom. For the same reason, I went with a booster seat instead of a highchair for meals. Having spent the past few weeks under almost suffocating restrictions, I didn’t want any more. Mike even managed to find a chessboard for me. When he claimed that he’d beat me with it, I giggled, knowing that, unless he’d somehow left out crazy secrets about who he was, he stood no chance. Our final stop was a Best-Buy-like store called Motherboards. Mike looked like he was giddy with excitement as soon as he stepped foot inside. He was definitely as much a tech fan as I was, if not more so. I couldn’t help but get hyped when I saw the crazy specs of everything, and I literally drooled at the insane hardware that they had. I could easily spend a whole day in this store, but Mike seemed to know what he was looking for. He waved off an overeager sales rep trying to be helpful and made a beeline for a section labelled ‘Displays and Peripherals’. He double-checked something with a sales rep there that I didn’t quite understand, and scanned the items himself with his cyrano. When I asked him what he got, he just smiled and said I’d find out soon. I was exhausted, so I didn’t push the matter. Mike took a left out of Motherboards and led us back to the mall entrance where we’d come in from. There, he showed me how the mall’s centralized checkout system worked. It turned out to be exactly like shopping on Amazon, less the shipping selections, since we were collecting the items right there. When the payment went through, an employee walked us to a receiving bay, where an autonomous flatbed robocart laden with everything we’d purchased met us. The employee checked over everything with Mike, and he confirmed receipt by scanning his cyrano. With that done, they thanked each other and Mike headed for the SUV, where he transferred everything except my dolphin to the trunk. Mike then picked me up, handed it to me, and pressed a button on both carts to automatically return them. Mike tore open a case of diapers and a pack of wipes. He changed me on the backseat before disposing of the used diaper in a nearby trash receptacle. The MapleLove indeed felt amazing. I could hardly even tell it was there, if not for the slight warmth and the bulk. Mike buckled me into my car seat. At that point, I had the first real chance that day to process the sensory overload. Nothing else demanded my attention. My head hurt from all the incredibly convoluted feelings I had, even as I felt content that I had no immediate worries. I abhorred whoever destroyed Michelle with fiery disgust. I pitied the poor girl. I was grateful that Maria had stepped up and shown her love that was as unconditional as a human could give. I still had a twinge of disbelief that I’d managed to escape, and a panging guilt that my friends were trapped in the orphanage. I was hopeful for my future, grateful for Mike’s kindness, captivated by all the futuristic tech in this dimension, and thankful that God hadn’t forsaken me. Above all, there hung an overarching exhaustion from the day’s events. Fatigue soon enveloped me. Hugging my dolphin, pacifier bobbing in and out of my mouth in tune with my gentle breathing, I drifted off to a peaceful sleep and the land of carefree, uncomplicated dreams. End of Part 1 =========================================================== Thanks for reading Part 1 of my story! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing. You can find Part 2 in the original thread linked below, being posted a chapter a week! Please leave a like and a comment, it means the world to me!
  15. Hi there! This is about a fictional ABDL community that I'm working on. It features adults who live in a kinky community for ABDLs. Everyone is over 18. I have about 10 chapters done and will be posting them here over time. Here is a detailed disclaimer that talks about the content and themes of this novel:: https://www.patreon.com/posts/65186383 Content Warnings Extensive Diaper Use (Wetting and Messing) Extensive Regression themes Extensive Sexual themes Adult Nursing CNC Spanking/Corporal Punishment/Orgasm Control-Denial/Chastity Bullying and teasing Humiliation ------- Previous chapter is here: --- Chloe sat on the stool in the upstairs preschool playroom and fumed. She turned her head, slowly, inching her chin millimeters at a time to make it seem like it wasn’t moving at all. The clock was directly behind her. “Chloe, face the wall,” said a voice from behind. It was the voice of Mr. Hentier, the grownup in charge of this section of the playroom. “If I have to tell you again, you’ll stay there longer.” She snorted and returned her head towards the dull pink walk ahead of her. Whatever. Without being able to see the clock, Chloe guessed that only ten minutes had passed. That meant another twenty remained. Well, twenty minutes remained on the stool, though her discipline wasn’t going to end there. What a fucking baby, she thought. Tattling because she’s a big crybaby and can’t handle the truth. Chloe had been rudely disturbed during her nap, and had to make things clear. She stayed under her covers, because her covers were the best thing available to help shield her nostrils. She yelled and screamed with righteous fury. These miserable two months could not end fast enough! Her roommate gave it back (though with tears) until a stern knock came at the door. Not waiting for permission to enter, as the two women inside were merely preschoolers, Mrs. Marath burst in. “I’m bigger than she is,” Chloe said, whining when Mrs. Marath began ripping the covers off and grabbing at her arms. The smell was even worse without the covers on her face. “She’s lying.” “Oh, nobody cares,” the grownup said, annoyance dripping from her words. “Behave more, then. Then maybe someone will believe you.” Chloe had still pleaded her case while she was marched down the halls of the Preschool in pajama pants, which did a poor job of covering her Todders, and a black bra. Mrs. Marath hadn’t even given her time to put a shirt on. She was dressed like a goddam Nursery stinker. “She pooped in the room,” Chloe pleaded. “I told her to get out and that she was a baby.” “And that’s all you said?” Mrs. Marath laughed. “You want to keep going? I haven’t decided how many spankings to assign you. And besides, I don’t see pullups on that bottom of yours yet, so you shouldn’t talk.” Chloe held her tongue. Everyone agreed that it was a faux pas to mess in a Preschool dorm room. Hell, it was frowned on in Daycare, so even though Jaclyn was essentially a Daycare baby at her core, she still should have known. It wasn’t even her first time in two months. Sometimes, in cribs, people couldn’t help it. But in Preschool there were beds, and there were always nighttime grownups to help find a potty in a pinch, if you pressed the button in the hall. This, though, was a midday mess. Unacceptable really. Jaclyn had gone out of her way to do it or take her business to the room and stink it up and Chloe had told her so. If she said dumb or bitch or shit pants thumbsucker, that was what Jaclyn likely needed to hear. Go ahead, little crybaby. Tattle on me for being a big meanie. Just make sure you tell them why I was a meanie. Then we’ll see whose reputation stands in the long-term. Oh right, nobody is going to care about you because you’re going back to the DAYCARE! There was a boy beside her, sitting on his own stool, also staring at the wall. His name was Karl, and Chloe did not know him well. He wasn’t new to Preschool, in fact he’d probably been here for the last year and a half, the whole time she had. Maybe even longer. But he was quiet and uninteresting and she didn’t find him altogether attractive. A waste of a man in pullups, really. He’d been sitting on the stool since before Chloe had been brought into the playroom, and Chloe had overheard that his crime had been skipping his chores. As boring a sin as he was a person. Chloe wasn’t sure what the Nursery penalty for skipping a chore was, she wasn’t even sure Nursery babies could tell time. But in the Daycare and Preschool, truancy called for a spanking after a timeout. And Chloe knew that well because she’d been on one of these stools for the same thing just yesterday, and she had had a makeup chore this morning because of it, and after she completed it, she would still have to plead to her room grownup Mrs. French to get her outdoor privileges back. Though Jaclyn’s crybabyness probably caved any hope of that until at least tomorrow. At least Chloe had a good reason to get in trouble. Mr. Hentier walked over to the stool area to fetch Karl. Chloe watched him stand and follow the grownup out of her sight. She made sure not to turn around too much to bring the grownup’s wrath once again. The pair did not walk far, and Chloe heard them clearly. “You’re wet,” Mr. Hentier said. “I’m sorry,” Karl said. There was no more on that topic. His pullup, in addition to his shorts, was going down around his ankles too, right there in the playroom. “You need thirty,” Mr. Hentier said. And then he began to bring the palm down on Karl’s bottom. Hentier brought it hard, and the smacks were loud and crisp on the man’s bottom. The punishment stools of the upstairs playroom were located along one wall, right beside the potties. Both of the Preschool playrooms were considerably smaller than the massive ones that could be found in the Daycare. Even the smaller Daycare playroom dwarfed both of the Preschool playrooms. The Preschool building lent itself to smaller alcoves and quieter spaces. It had a large upstairs library, which was the only library in all of Nurserton. There were more changing rooms, rather than theme-park sized ones in Daycare. Occasional potty rooms were sprinkled throughout all of the floors in a far greater density than could be found in Daycare. They were still the bowls on the floor potties though. Flushers were for Juniors and grownups only. Chloe could hear the conversation in the playroom behind her. Preschoolers, overall, were a disappointing bunch. There wasn’t a whole ton of difference between what Preschoolers did for leisure, and what Daycarers did. Games, baking, watching Disney, taking naps (this wasn’t so bad). They just did the same things, but did them in slimmer, less stinky diapers. Karl’s spankings punctuated the din of a crowded playroom. Perhaps about two dozen other Preschoolers were in there now, but many of them hushed to watch Karl get a spanking. Karl’s punishment was over as soon as it began. Chloe knew it wouldn’t feel that way though. There were footsteps and rustling as Karl got dressed. Mr. Hentier would be taking him to the changing room down the hall. She waited, counting in her head and imagining the distance it took to get from the punishment area, across the playroom, and through the door. She turned her head to look at the clock and her surroundings. Fifteen minutes left, she saw. She also saw that the playroom had gotten a bit more crowded than it had when she was first marched in here. A group of Preschoolers were watching Star Wars, almost a dozen were having a very elaborate tea party. Two women were having a handstand competition, their skirts flipping to reveal their diapers underneath. A bunch of babies were nearby her in the lounge playing a card game, probably Magic the Gathering. Beside them was a single woman, sitting in a chair with her legs crossed, meeting her eyes over the cover of a book. It was Jessica, one of the few special ones. The soon to be Juniors. Chloe almost wanted to laugh every time she saw her. It was earlier this year when Jessica had been dragged out of the outdoor pool with a stinky swim diaper, and the pool had only opened in early May. Jessica had no chance in undies. “You’re supposed to be turned around,” Jessica said, folding her book closed on her lap. Chloe stuck her tongue out back at her. She didn’t turn her head back for her, though. Chloe knew that Mr. Hentier would soon be back. When exactly he did, Chloe couldn’t be sure. That he had shoes on barely made a difference against the carpeted floor of the playroom, and grownups were just averaged sized adults after all. But then she heard uppity Jessica’s voice. “Chloe turned around for a while,” she said. “Did she?” answered Mr. Hentier. His voice got louder. “Did you turn around Chloe?” “No,” she said. “She’s lying, ask anyone.” “No, I believe you,” he said. Then the footsteps got louder. Chloe heard his clothes rustle. The pink on the wall became purple as his shadow cast over hers. “You earned fifteen more minutes, and it’ll be more if you argue.” Chloe didn’t even nod. She sat and stared at the wall and fumed. Stupid Jaclyn and stupid Jessica. They were friends, that’s what it was. They were both sitting together at breakfast this morning, they were often together. Probably met as thumbsuckers in the Daycare together or something. Daycare babies who couldn't cut it always stuck together. They liked to hold hands as they rode the elevator back down to stink town. Jessica included. Jessica very much included. Who did she think she was? She wasn’t even a Junior yet. She’s probably all hopped up on her newfound power. The little bed puddler. Whatever. It’s just a half hour. At least she wasn’t getting locked in her room. She felt her diaper through her pajamas. It had been a little wet, and her last change had come before lunch, towards the end of potty training. She’d pooped on the potty at the beginning of class and got a star, and then she wet for the rest of class until she needed a change. She’d wet at lunch, and the grownup who checked her as she left the cafeteria let her go. After that, she went back to her room to take her nap, during which she wet again. She woke up to pee; she wasn’t a bed piddler, though she’d barely gotten to drift off to sleep again before Jaclyn came in to crap her pants. Now, probably no more than an hour since the end of lunch, she had to pee again. She let it go. She’d hit her twenty stars a few days ago anyway. The minutes ticked away, though they did so in secret, somewhere behind Chloe. Timeout can, at times, represent its own sort of sedentary adventure, and sure enough, Chloe did not spend long alone. Two women were brought this time, and Chloe felt confident enough to crane her neck to look at them. Penny was the one whom Mr. Hentier sat down just beside Chloe, a tall brunette, strong and rather intimidating, who always wore pigtails and was the poster child for big-but-not. Yes, Chloe knew that someone foolish, like a Jessica, might think that it was herself that was the biggest hypocrite in the whole building. But it was Penny. Chloe, at least, never lied about having earned pullups. She was honest about that, not just because she didn’t actually want pullups, but because she didn’t care about being the biggest. She admired Sofia, another Preschooler, who never did her number #2 in the potty and earned all her stars the hard way, simply because she found the whole concept of using the plastic potties repulsive and decided to use them as little as possible. Chloe sympathized with that. Penny was the type of baby who couldn’t see how Sofia or Chloe was bigger than her, and even when backed into a corner with all the evidence that her few dalliances in pullups didn’t amount to much, she still wouldn’t. To take shit from Penny was all the more annoying because Chloe had her own, very valid reasons for being ‘below-average’. Below average, at least, as the Preschool went. The other woman sent to the stools was Ariba, one of the youngest people in the entire village. A fresh, fresh, 21-year old. Chloe would only learn later that Ariba was there for pouring a bowl of cereal, milk and all, down the back of someone’s diaper. Mr. Henriet sat her on Chloe’s left, so that Chloe was the prisoner in the middle. “Mr,” Penny said, seated upright on her stool, “I have to go potty.” “You know the rules,” Mr. Henriet said. “I really have to go,” she said. “You should have done that before you started playing with yourself,” he said. Penny turned herself and stomped her feet. “Please! I need my stars!” No you don’t, Chloe thought. You coulda shit in the potty in PT today. Penny hadn’t. During PT, during Simon Says, Penny had bent forward and filled her diaper, and then kept on playing. Before that, multiple grownups had all but led her to the toilets and asked her (as they asked everyone) if she had to go. She’d said no. Penny was doing worse than even Jaclyn, as she often did. The only difference was that Penny always managed to offset her failures with a passable month, though just barely. It was no secret that if Penny ever missed the mark and was finally put in Puffington Pluses, she’d never climb back out of Daycare. Mr. Henriet walked away after only saying to Penny what everyone knew he’d say; “Hold it, you’re a big girl.” That was the rule. In the Daycare they’d swoop you off a timeout stool to carry you to the potty, and sometimes even knocked time off a timeout for potty success. In a world of stinkers like Jaclyn, grownups had to cherish every poop that got in a potty. In Preschool, you held it through your timeout. Penny crossed her arms and huffed. A few minutes later, Penny put both hands on opposite ends of the stool, lifted her bottom up, and did her business. Chloe watched it all happen and then buried her head in her hands. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, loud enough for Penny to hear it. All she did though was hold her chin high in the air and examine her personal piece of the pink wall. A whisper came from Chloe’s other side. “Who did that?” “Who do you think?” Chloe complained. “You,” Ariba said. “Eat me,” Chloe spat back, still in a whisper. “I don’t pay to eat pussy,” Ariba snarled. “Especially not from a bitch like you.” The grownup’s voice, now tired, rose up from behind him again. “For God’s sake ladies,” he said. “No talking! How hard can this be!” Chloe chewed on her tongue, but couldn’t help herself. “Ariba called me the b-word!” Ariba groaned from beside her. Mr. Henriet could be heard growling behind them. Once again he crossed the carpet to reappear behind the ladies. Chloe began retelling the events, starting from Penny’s accident. “She’s leaving out that she said ‘eat me,” Ariba said, taking both of her hands and karate chopping her own diapered crotch. Mr. Henriet registered this in silence. “Did you say the b-word?” Ariba considered for a moment, and looked at Chloe. Then she turned her head toward Mrs. Henriet. “Sure did. Didn’t stutter one bit. Bitch bitchy bitchy-ass bitch bitch assbitch poopybitch little pussy is a coin slot bit..,” Mr. Henriet did not listen to any more. In one motion he scooped Ariba up. He lifted her off the stool and into the air. Ariba laughed like a crazy person. Chloe watched, breaking the head-turn rule once again, as Ariba was hauled over his knees, as her diaper was ripped off and the spankings began. He didn’t even ask her to count, he just began…bam bam bam! They were serious and they snapped. He covered thigh and upper cheek. Ariba laughed through the first fifteen until she started to squeal and cry. Now and then Henriet would stop and tell her to hold still. Eventually, he asked her if she was sorry. “Didn’t stutter one bit,” she said, through tears. The spankings resumed, and come the end, that moment of continued defiance would turn out to be only the halfway point. Ariba soon began to bawl as if Mr. Henriet’s hand was in fact a hot poker, branding her bottom with every slam. The 21 year old would not return to the stools. Instead, Henriet would fix up her diaper and send for an attending Junior, who would take Ariba back to her room. Ariba was in for a decent grounding, which would start with room-confinement until possibly dinnertime. Chloe would receive yet another fifteen minute extension for her poor choice of words, which was even worse because of Penny’s stink. Worse yet was that Penny only had a twenty minute timeout, meaning that she’d be let off the stool without a spanking and taken to the changing room before Chloe was off. The spanking finally came, after an hour on the stool. Chloe’s lower back hurt, as did her thighs, though she didn’t know why. She’d know why soon enough. Henriet took her to the wooden chair he had set up beside the stools and had her stand in front of her while he untapped her soggy diaper (he checked for number 2 first, just to humiliate her). Chloe’s eyes met many of the other playroom denizens. The numbers had thinned since she’d been dragged into the playroom Mrs. Marath’s haughty storm. The heat of the high afternoon was passing and many of the babies had pilfered outside. Or, the juice and other drinks everyone had for lunch had done their work, and the changing room was packed. Chloe had thought Jessica had left, but there she was, pullups around her ankles, seated on a plastic potty with a Junior standing beside her. Oh, what a showoff. Chloe felt many eyes on her when her diaper came down, and the air in the playroom felt cool now that the warmth of her pee had fallen away. Her hair was trimmed to nothing, as was everyone’s who still needed diapers and pullups. It’s easier to change that way, but here, cheeks and lips out in the middle of a room that boasted a few dozen, Chloe felt even more naked. Mr. Henriet made sure she laid across his lap such that her butt faced the most populated angles of the room. He told her she’d have to count to 45, thirty for what she’d said to Jaclyn, and another fifteen for how she’d acted during her timeout. If she misbehaved on his knee like she had been since she’d been there, he warned, it could be more. After ten Chloe was already panting and closing her eyes before the hand came down. “Are you going to apologize to your roommate?” he asked. “Yes sir,” she said. His legs against her stomach made it hard to breathe. After 12: “Are you going to do it again?” “No sir,” she said. If Jaclyn doesn’t mess in the room again, I’ll hold off. After 20: “We’re going to use respectful words when we don’t like something, right?” “Yes.” “Yes what?” “Yes sir!” She was panting for real now. She wasn’t even halfway…though she would be if it hadn’t been for Jessica and Penny and Ariba. He’d switched to her thighs and back again, and everything was burning. After 25: “You’ve been a bad girl,” he said. After 26: “Where do bad girls belong?” “Right here sir!” Fuck that one hurt bad. After 31: “Where do you look when you’re in timeout?” “At the wall sir!” After a few more she bucked and almost slid off. Mr. Henriet didn’t scold her, and helped her readjust across her lap. Seeming to know she was nearing her limit, the last dozen were quicker pops. Built on the earlier spankings, these still stung. They would continue to sting for hours. Chloe’s misdeeds continued that day, though that was the end of what she was caught for. After her spanking, Mr. Henriet took her to the changing room. She had to watch Penny’s poopy butt get changed, making that the second such privilege this day alone. She didn’t see any of Jaclyn, not in the playroom, not with her best friend Jessica. Surprisingly, Jaclyn hadn’t been in the upstairs changing room, though Chloe supposed that more than an hour had passed since her faux pas in their dorm room. Hoping that Jaclyn was getting lost in the woods, Chloe returned to her room. When she opened the door, she found that Jaclyn wasn’t there. The smell was, though, but perhaps it was her imagination. She didn’t take her clogs off to step on Jaclyn’s bed to open the windows. That, at least, was fair. Chloe figured that she’d resume her nap, now that it was almost two hours after she’d tried to start it. Laying down felt better than sitting, after all, and a few more minutes of the breeze and Chloe’s room wouldn’t smell like poop anymore. Yup. It was Chloe’s room. Not Jaclyn’s. Jaclyn was meant for a crib. That was for sure. She took her skirt off and changed her shirt into something comfortable. She put headphones from the cabinet beneath her bed and laid on her tummy to avoid feeling the sting of her bottom. She procured an old iPod. A laughably ancient artifact by outside standards, it was a perfect one for Nurserton. It provided music, but no phone to the outside world. More importantly, there was no camera. She didn’t remember where she got it. That was the case for many of the things in her cabinet. And it would not be the case for something else. Chloe relaxed for a while, and then stood up and shut off her iPod. Yes, that would seem fair. She thought. She walked to the door and opened it. The hallway was empty, all she could see was a row of still doors. Ariba happened to be one of her neighbors, and hers was the only room where the light was on. The door wouldn’t be locked, but Ariba would be dead meat if she was caught coming out for anything less than a fire alarm. Chloe shut the door and returned to her room. It couldn’t be anything obvious, nothing that she’d wear on a regular basis; nothing that she’d notice anytime soon. Normally, nondescript and regular things were the best targets; like the headphones and the iPod. Even if the original owner had seen them in Chloe’s hands, as they had, in fact, they would have no way to prove the Chloe’s were indeed theirs. Often, they wouldn’t even suspect it. Fancy personal onesies and clothing items, things that Jaclyn had acquired plenty of over her time here, wouldn’t do. But this item needn't be for Chloe’s benefit. This was for Jaclyn’s loss. She reached into a drawer on Jaclyn’s bedside table. There she found Jaclyn’s jewelry box. She took it out and opened the latch. There was a little song that played when she did, something she’d heard and rolled her eyes at countless times. It was a little Disney song. It reminded Chloe of Cinderella. What a drooler. There, sitting on the side of the box was a smaller, inner box. She reached in and opened that box, black and felt, which housed a single pair of earrings…small and shiny, with a pink heart set in the middle. Chloe had seen many roommates get their demotions, and knew that in the craziness that the move entailed, baby Jaclyn wouldn’t have time to even open her jewelry box to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be. Baby Jaclyn wouldn’t think of it until she was set up in her boisterous baby room, and then she’d suspect that she’d lost her precious earrings somewhere in transit. Even if she blamed Chloe, she’d never find them. Chloe left her room, diaper dry and ass sore, and marched off to her hiding place. She gave Ariba’s door a good tongue for posterity. The felt box was still in the larger singing jewelry box, which itself still remained in Jaclyn’s bedside drawer. Its contents, however, jingled in Chloe’s pocket.
  16. My first memories were while I was potty training but still in diapers. I must have been about 4 years old and remember standing in the kitchen and filling my pants. After that, I also remember the changes too. I pooped in my pants off and on until about age 9, but at age 13 I started experimenting again and have ever since...35 years ago! Would love for you to share your own experiences!
  17. Disclaimer: https://www.patreon.com/posts/65185502 Content Warnings Extensive Forced Diaper Wearing (Wetting/Messing) Extensive Public and Private Humiliation Extensive Corporal Punishment and Bondage Extensive use of the themes of fear, shame, guilt, and dread Some consensual sexual slavery/servitude themes Occasional Sexual Themes Occasional Sexual Intercourse ***I do not condone any of the events or themes in this story, and do not intend to glorify or advocate that anyone conduct their life in this way. Nobody should model any sort of erotic behavior on the events of this story.*** Previous chapter: ------ Lily rested her mop on her shoulder. After a moment with her eyes closed and her breath steady, she peed. Warmth surged out of her. It hit the front of her diaper like a tennis ball against a wall, and then it sloshed backwards beneath her. She took a deep breath. It wasn’t a good feeling. She didn’t like her pussy being dipped in a pool of her own hot urine. But it was a familiar feeling, and fleeting. The diaper absorbed it all to carry it like a pocket against her inner thighs. Whatever peeing used to feel like was a distant memory. Another inmate walked by, heedless of the wetness on the ground. The woman smelled like sweat. She smelled of worse things too. This inmate had clearly come from the yard, and brown streaks of dirt from the women's tennis shoes followed the inmate through the part of the block that Lily had been told to mop. Lily sighed and took the mop off of her shoulder. She held it over the bucket, wrung it out, and then plunged it back into the soapy broth. Clean the floor from Cell 230 to 260. That’s it. That’s all she had to do. So she set out to deal with the tracks left by the other inmate. She didn’t bother yelling at her. What was the inmate to do? It’s not like there was a mat by the big double doors that separated the interior of Cellblock A from the yard. One couldn’t leave shoes anywhere but in one’s own cell (against the wall, under the cot, if one didn’t want to anger a guard during an inspection). This wasn’t a house, where shoes were left by the door. This was a public place. And nobody cared whether or not the floor was actually clean. Lily did though, so Lily mopped. She started in the direction where the woman came from, towards the double doors to the yard. She wasn’t supposed to go beyond cell 230 with her bucket and mop, that wasn’t her job. Her job was to just clean the floor from Cell 230 to 260 and to do it, and nothing else, for an hour. That ‘nothing else’ included talking, but she spoke anyway. Other inmates that she knew would come by and they’d say hello. Sometimes they’d ask her if she knew where another inmate went, or if the guard walking on the upper deck was in a good mood. Those bad moods really mattered because that determined if even a little amount of conversation merited discipline. But almost always, even the surliest guards don’t feel like writing a discipline report on an inmate for some chitter chatter. That doesn’t mean they never did, no, they absolutely will at some point and there is also nothing to do about that. But there’s no point in living to avoid it. They’ll write up an inmate when they want to, and Lily had learned to accept it. She took a look at the nearby guard. He was a big man, and thick around the belly. He had a belt with a club in it, though she’d never seen any of them actually use those. He was up on the upper deck, and he looked like he had seen the same thing Lily did; a woman coming in from the yard in muddy shoes. He made his way to the nearby staircase and went in the direction of the orange-clad woman in muddy shoes. Mopping wasn’t enough to fully occupy Lily’s attention, even if it was difficult to make out the dirt footprints against the reflective surface of the floor. She felt like a tracker, following some wounded animal. But really, no, she felt nothing like a hunter. She felt more like a roomba, with wheels and an optical lens that could spot filth and hone in on it. Lily see dirt, Lily clean dirt. That’s what Lily is capable of. The guard disappeared into the cell where the woman had gone. Honing in to check that diaper. A different breed of roomba. He came out a few moments later, with the woman walking in front of him. The woman’s face was expressionless as she walked in front of the guard. Her diaper was thick. Its outlines were clear in front, and they puffed out the orange fabric of her jumpsuit. Lily’s was no better, no, Lily’s was worse. Most uniforms shrunk in the caustic detergent of the laundry rooms, though the tightness and revealing embarrassment around the crotch were always the least concerning aspects of the shrinkage. The outlines of the woman’s diaper were visible on her tummy, where the top of it stopped, and across her hips, even though the plastic wings of the diaper there were very thin. The woman looked uncomfortable as she made her way, and her gait had the tinge of a waddle to it. She had probably been like that when she came through Lily’s section of the floor before, but Lily had been too busy peeing to notice. She had noticed the woman’s smell, though, and it was no surprise that she was going where she was going. Not far away, towards the center of the cross-shaped block where Lily lived (and would continue to live) was a changing center. It was one of two in Cellblock A, the other being located symmetrically opposite across the rotund central area of the block. It was nothing more than an area blocked off by a low wall, with chairs oriented around a medical table. The woman walked there and sat down in one of those chairs. From Lily’s position in the middle of the hall, she could count maybe ten or so heads sitting in chairs just like that woman. She knew almost all of them (though this particular woman in the muddy feet was someone she wasn’t familiar with). They all stared blankly at the medical table, which featured another guard as well as a woman, an inmate, stark naked on her back. The best seats in prison. Lily watched as the guard began his return journey down the hall. His boots squeaked as he went. Lily looked at the path that the guard and the woman took. Another trail of muddy footprints crossed the space between 230 and 260. These were less visible, but Lily had little else to direct her attention towards. She made a mental note to mop down in that direction once she was done with the first set of footprints that the inmate had made. She doused the head of the mop once more in her bucket and made her way. One of the things to think about in Stenton, when there is just nothing else to think about, is when you’re going to get your diaper changed. To say that Lily was not resentful of the woman who had tracked dirt not once but twice through her section of the floor was an understatement. She was jealous. Jealous that the woman was now sitting in the changing queue. The best seats in the house. She’d be out of her diaper and she looked like she’d used it well enough to make the trip worth it. Did it suck to be over there, with the other women in the changing queue? Yup, always did. Did it smell bad to be over there? No doubt. It never smelled good when you sat down in a chair next to multiple other grown women in soiled diapers. Was it fun to be stripped while a guard draws wipes through your ass? Nope. Never was and never would be. But at least the full diaper would be gone, and that was something that the woman with the muddy feet could say that Lily couldn’t. Though it wouldn’t be long until a guard took her there either. Hopefully. Although you could always guarantee that at some point, for even the slightest thing, a guard might cell you and write you up, you simultaneously couldn’t guarantee that a guard would actually take you to the changing area. Whether or not a guard took an inmate to one of the changing stations around the block had nothing to do with what was in their diaper. Everyone was on a schedule, more or less. Even a quiet, boring, and ordered place like Stenton prison could experience enough chaos such that any schedule could become wildly unpredictable. When it came to changing, guards had a plan for the day, one they didn’t share, often not even with each other. All of them, though, agreed that the diapers were there for punishment, and that if a little chaos resulted in discomfort for the inmates of Stenton, then chaos was working as intended. There was no legal requirement that the part of Lily’s sentence that enumerated ‘three diaper changes a day’ had to be religiously followed. There was no independent committee that interviewed prisoners to make sure they were getting the appropriate amount of diaper changes a day, according to what their judge had ordered. Nobody cared, for one, and nowhere in Lily’s sentence did it say she had a right to any amount. It only said: In addition; Lily is to be diapered for the entirety of her incarceration. She will be permitted no more than three diaper changes in a calendar-day during the duration of her custody. This aspect of Lily’s punishment will begin with the issuance of this sentence. Indeed, she hadn’t. She’d lost track of the days long ago, but she knew without a doubt that she’d got no more than three diaper changes a day. The average was undoubtedly lower. There were days when she only got two. There had been some sticky, hot, itchy, mushy, smelly, sleepless days where she’d only got one. Three was just the ceiling. There were no four-change days in her memory to match any of the under-three days. The only thing keeping her at three at all was the guards, for following the rules was part of their nature. Lily’s lawyer had prepared her for sentencing, way back when. “They’ll probably give you two. We’re fighting for three.” “Why not four?” Lily said. Technically, five changes was a possible limit, but she knew enough to not hope for that. The lawyer shook her head. Apparently, Lily’s lawyer knew enough to not hope for four either. Lily was already convicted by that time, already in orange, already diapered. There had been a thick diaper waiting for her in the side chamber where they took her after they dismissed the jurors that had decided to convict her. She’d remembered holding it together in court but bursting into tears as soon as that huge white diaper came into view. Her bowels churned and her feet felt like lead in the bright concrete warren beside the courtroom. Her hands had been cuffed in front of her, and two guards on either side were holding her by her biceps. Their guidance was firm as they took her, almost limp, to the table. They took off her cuffs and stripped her… Her last use of the toilet had been so unceremonious. A rushed evacuation before it was time to listen to the prosecution put the cherry on top of Lily’s public evisceration. A few months later, with her jury long gone and presumably eating ice cream and tanning on the fine Shamurian beaches, her lawyer shook her head. “No, four would anger the judge,” she said. “Three is the best we get. We ask for four and we guarantee that the judge will give you two.” Lily understood negotiation well enough to agree with her lawyer’s logic. It was hard to sit there in the sentence proceedings (there were two appearances in court prior to her actual sentencing) and listen to her lawyer argue for three diaper changes a week. Especially since she was already wearing them in jail, between her conviction and her final sentencing. In jail, prior to sentencing, they gave her five changes, and that was already unbearable. Worse, she’d seen the path of many women whose trials had gone before hers. She’d seen them all try to adjust to four from five (most wound up getting four to five changes, but Lily was in for something more serious). All whined and begged and complained. “My client is sorry for what she did, she has expressed sincere guilt. This is her first mistake before the law, and she is going to vow that it never happens again.” It wouldn’t. It literally couldn’t. They’d made sure to take away Lily’s license to practice law as soon as they diapered her. “My client looks forward to her punishment,” her lawyer said. Lily remembered herself sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair for the first time not wearing a dress, but in the same kind of orange jumpsuit she wore today. She had tried to imagine that being true; that she was looking forward to it. Yes, I’m excited for what’s coming next. I woke up this morning in my jail cell in my diaper, and listened to the woman next to me in the van to the courthouse who told me that the smartest thing to do, if I could, was to shit myself as soon as I got off the van so I wouldn’t have to shit my diaper in court because they generally wouldn’t change me again until the whole day’s proceedings were done. I figured she was right, yet she was only half right. Piss and poop was in my diaper for an hour before they changed me to bring me out here. I just got my asswiped by a policewoman who thinks my buttcheeks need to be scrubbed like metal pan, and yes, I am looking forward to years and years more of this. “Lily understands that four changes a day is fairly prompt and she’s aware that her crimes are too serious for that, and she wouldn’t want her upcoming incarceration to be wasted on a punishment that isn’t severe enough.” Her lawyer spoke correctly, if inaccurately. No matter what, once convicted, it was best to prostrate yourself before the mighty righteous will of Shamurian society. Even if you plead ‘not guilty,’ you were supposed to be ecstatic and thankful that the good people of Shamuria had put you where you belonged. You didn’t have to believe it, but you had to say it. The prosecution argued for two changes a day. The prosecuting attorney, the winning attorney, was dressed impeccably and conducted herself with the same bright-eyed enthusiasm she had worn the entire way. She was young and Lily had overheard that her case was her first-ever as the lead attorney. The swagger she brought was contagious, and the jury had awarded her with a conviction. “Got the bitch!” The bitch was Lily. She was got. Lily picked at her hot wet diaper and took a break from mopping, resting the haft once again against her shoulder. She tried to recall the attorney’s name, but couldn’t. She must have been no older than twenty three at the time. Long straight blond hair, always wore a skirt to the knee and leggings. Designer jackets, glasses. More importantly, she had perfect pitch. She sang a lullaby to the jury in a manner Lily could only dream of. Her voice rose and fell as she unveiled fact after fact, damning Lily with every note. Two hours into the first witness hearing, and Lily realized she had worse odds than a lobster hovering above boiling water. She asked questions and left them unanswered, leaving the jury to contemplate Lily’s criminality on their own. She rarely pushed the line and the judge rarely had to scold her, whereas Lily’s lawyer had to fight tooth and nail for every edge. This woman doesn’t need a law degree, the young prosecutor had said during her closing statements. She needs diapers. And you’ve got a chance to put her in them for a long time. It took just two hours of deliberations, which is barely more than the time it takes for a jury to retreat into the decision room, have a snack, and run through the list of things they have to do. Fresh off cold-cut sandwiches and soda, the jury took advantage of their chance, and a diaper had been laid out for her in the processing room. Guilty! Guilty! Guilty! A win for Shamuria and humanity! Months later, when the number three came down from the mouth of the judge, the lawyer tried to be cheerful for Lily. It was as if to say, an average of eight hours in your piss and shit between changes isn’t so bad. Imagine if it was twelve! Yeah, it could have been six. It could have been less than five hours on average. But eight isn’t so bad. You’ll be fine. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Yeah, you’ll have to sit in it for a while longer than you do now, but those two extra changes of five a day don’t amount to that much. It was the only thing that Lily could be cheerful at throughout the whole trial. Lily watched as a tall, slender woman exited a cell in the section she was assigned to clean. Her name was Lindsey, and like Lily and the other woman, she too was dressed in orange with an obvious diaper underneath. She stepped out onto the newly mopped floor and looked both ways, as if addressing a street that she was about to cross. In doing so, she made note of the guard, who had returned to his post on the catwalk. She looked at Lily too, and gave Lily a long, forlorn look until Lily turned away and pretended to be busy. Lily continued mopping and made a deliberate effort to not pay attention to the woman. Lindsey was a newer inmate, here for maybe three months at most, and was a four-changer. It was weird, how quickly you learned to remember how often someone got their diapers changed. But it mattered because it directly affected how pleasant they were to be around. Lily knew a few more things about Lindsey though, as she was one of the more famous residents of cellblock A. A television actress, Lindsey received a two year sentence for bribing an admissions office with cash to help get her daughter into an elite Shamurian university. Rumor was that wouldn’t be the end of it, as some of the other inmates claimed to have seen her get loaded back on the ferry, which either meant you were being freed or you were going back to court. In Lindsey’s case, it couldn’t be the former; she hadn’t been in Stenton long enough and judges never, ever, reduced sentences. Lily hadn’t seen her go, and hadn’t heard any concrete evidence of such happenings. But she did know that no matter what, whether you’re a five-changer or a one-changer, the only toilets in the building are located behind the huge blast doors for the guards. This wasn’t a guess. Inmates who had the misfortune to be taken through the doors reported that on the other side were a pair of men’s and women’s bathrooms, just for guards. Not really a big surprise, Lily saw no need to take her own trip through the doors to find out. One was never in a state of freedom when going through those. Just so, by standing in the middle of the hall, Lindsey had already internalized the dominant code of ethics among inmates at Stenton. You have to shit, so shit responsibly. Shitting at or after lockdown was a recipe for drama, as was doing it at mealtime. You tried to avoid doing it in your cell at all, unless you had a good reason. That rule was more up in the air, as sometimes avoiding a dirty diaper in the cell was a bit much to ask of one-changers. Everyone violated it at one point or another, sometimes simply because a lockdown could happen in the middle of the day. Lily had once been sitting in the changing area, one inmate away from getting her dirty diaper changed, when the alarm bell rang. She had to race back to her cell, her diaper still engorged and disgusting. That lockdown had lasted over two hours and her cellmate had to suffer through it with her. There were lots of reasons that could happen, some more forgivable than others. The rule was that you tried to avoid it. Lily saw out of the corner of her eye that Lindsey was still doing her business. It would seem odd to do it so blatantly, but it made perfect sense. She wanted to do it out of her cell, in a place where nobody would be surprised by her. Now and then that backfired, and a rowdy prisoner might point and laugh at a woman trying to be as obvious as possible so others could avoid her. Nobody wanted to come around a corner just to bump into a grown woman taking a dump in her pants. You learned to appreciate blatant evacuation as a global favor, as humiliating as it was. The most important thing, which Lindsey knew already, was to do it so the guards would notice it. Being obvious was great, yet being heckled drew even more attention, no matter how much it made you want to die. That was another part of it. The surest way to ensure that the guards don’t change a diaper is to ask them to change it. The surest way to sit in poop for the rest of the day was to see yourself to the changing queue on your own. As dirty as Lindsey was making her diaper, she wouldn’t be changed out of it until a guard decided it was time for her to sit in the chairs. Finally, Lindsey finished loading her diaper. She stretched, checked again to see if Lily was watching her, and then looked up once again at the guard. The guard, who had surely seen everything, didn’t react. Lindsey didn’t hide her dismay, and rolled her neck dramatically and sucked on her teeth. There was nothing to do, though. She fixed her uniform, pulling it out where it had gotten too snug around her crotch. She sniffed her hands. Then, pooped diaper and all, Lindsey walked gingerly towards the center of the cellblock, out of Lily’s area to clean. Lily’s chore continued. A rectangle that is fifteen cell blocks long is large, but not large enough to occupy her and her mop for an hour. To use up more time, she offered to mop the cells of inmates in that area. She didn’t go in any that were empty. Most waved her off or pretended not to hear her at her door. Some she avoided because she already knew the answer of the occupant inside. Some were asleep. But a few stepped out of their cells so she could clean the small floor that they nominally called their own. One of those women was Kimmi. Lily came across her, mop and bucket in hand, while she was kneeling on her pillow, which was placed on the floor. She was bent over a deck of cards that she had splayed out on her cot. The international card game of prisons…even diaper prisons: solitaire. “Yeah sure, though it’s the air that’s dirty,” she said. Kimmi laughed and hauled herself up. She pushed past Lily, and she crinkled as she went. Lily’s nose rankled, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. “Don’t worry,” Kimmi said. “The bitch is on the dock.” Lily took this to refer to Kimmi’s cellmate, Rita. She didn’t need any reference to know what Kimmi meant by the dock. “Hope it hurts,” Lily said. Kimmi laughed again and nodded in agreement. Kimmi stood by as Lily mopped. The cells weren’t big enough for it to take too long, but Lily took her time. Why not take her time? Kimmi talked to her as she cleaned, despite the rule forbidding inmate job-conversation going both ways. Despite her soiled diaper, Kimmi had bubbling energy inside her, and she seemed to hum to a rhythm whenever she was silent. “I hear you got a whole hell coming to you,” Kimmi said, bobbing her head. Lily wasn’t surprised the word had already gotten to Kimmi. You’ll be fine. Just fine. A few docks is better than a lot. Four docks in a row is not a lot. Argue and you’ll get five, so shut up. “It won’t be so bad,” she said. “They going to break you up?” Lily hadn’t thought about that. “I don’t know,” she said. “That’d be a bummer. Luckiest thing in this whole place finally coming to an end. You two have been bumping it forever.” Kimmi said. Then she opened her arms to envelope some of the bars that formed the open wall of her cell. “Come to mine,” she said. The notion that Lily had a choice of what cell the guards put her in made them both laugh. The comment had more meaning than a simple joke, but for now Lily preferred to treat Kimmi’s absurdity as simply that. “Come on. I only stink up the room to get back at Rita. You should hear her! It doesn’t stop at lights-out.” “I can imagine.” “She’ll be writing a whole slam book on me, you can be sure of it. She’s going to make a series about her awful cellmate.” Kimmi laughed again. “I can’t wait to read it.” Lily bent low to mop under Rita’s cot. Part of her wanted to rung the sodden head of her mop onto Rita’s bed. To leave a dirty and soapy mess so that Rita had nowhere to rest on her way back from the dock. But she thought better of it. She was in deep enough trouble as it was. “So, what do you think about rooming with me?” Kimmi asked, again. “I’m still rooming with Marji.” “Yeah but not for long.” “We'll still be together.” “Really?” Kimmi said. She narrowed her eyes as the true thrust of the conversation was laid bare. “They’ll be watching you.” Kimmy leaned against the bars and stared at Lily. Lily became hyper aware of her own contours under her orange jumpsuit. She’d never thought she’d be sexy again, though this concern didn’t arise until weeks after actually being put in diapers. In retrospect, it would have been wise to get some action when they still let her wear panties. One of her greatest regrets. There had been more important worries back then, though as a lawyer, she should have foreseen where it would all end up. Now her pussy didn’t know or had forgotten that she was in prison. Her pussy was the one that made her look forward to diaper changes not just so she could get out of the diaper she was wearing, but so that she could see the bodies of the other women without their jumpsuits and their own thick diapers. It could be a gruesome sight, at times, but you could always close your eyes for the beginning and just look when the woman’s bottom was cleaner. Most diapers weren’t like that anyway. It was a weird, discordant feeling, to be aroused in a place like a changing area. But it made a sick, twisted sense; her pussy had adapted to the situation. It’d taken much longer for her to realize that other inmates had accepted the same realities, that they’d learned to ignore the thickness of her ass and crotch, and the garish glare of perpetual orange. Her thighs and ass, covered in a diaper that she had been wearing since the morning and forced to move in and pump in as she sweated in her full length suit, hadn’t gotten used to it, like her pussy had. She wanted a change badly, which, conveniently, was what her pussy wanted too. Somedays, she wished she could be more like Kimmi. Kimmi was one of those rare few in Stenton who seemed to enjoy her time behind bars. Or at least she was able to tolerate it effortlessly. She’d been cheery from the getgo, quick to joke, quick to to laugh, and quick to stop taking pee and poop so seriously. How could she care what was in her pants? She was a one-changer. The answer to what was in her pants was almost never good. She’d openly estimated that she maybe spent less than an hour a day without piss in her diaper. She even didn’t care to admit to the other women that she was wetting the bed ‘involuntarily’ and that she was ‘definitely wetter when she woke up than when she went to bed.’ Even more, she’d turned a whole breakfast table red with embarrassment when she blurted that ‘masturbation felt better when the front was thick with pee because it gave you firm something to rub against.’ Kimmi could be a hoot around the dock, too. If she was on the benches, watching woman after woman get spanked and paddled on the dock, she’d call and cheer. Kimmi never did it maliciously (as some might be for Rita right now), but always in a way that, if it were you getting spanked, it made you feel better. Lily hated, most of all, that the pillories and the dock were in the very center of the block, but Kimmi made it bearable, provided she was there. Oh come on, that one was a little low! Swing batter-batter swing! Come-on tootsie keep that back straight we gotta see that roast beef. Yes girl! Lily likes it doggie doesn’t she? She’s doing a great job! Show us what you’ve been hiding in those diapers hun! Sometimes she would get other inmates singing so that the sounds of the smacking died away, even to the ears of the woman getting hit. Nobody ever minded the raucous atmosphere she could create, save the guards and the occasional women who still thought they could sleep through their sentence. The guards sometimes felt that Kimmi’s irreverence took away from the essentially punitive exercise, and they would cell her for the rest of the day. That only made the average inmate appreciate Kimmi more. Except for the Ritas of the world, of course. The inmate cheers were markedly different when it was Rita’s bottom up on the platform called the dock. The mood was a bit more in line with what the guards intended when Rita got spanked. So it was fine to be around Kimmi, even when Kimmi smelled like shit. She was the type of inmate that could make you forget there was a bag of piss around your waist and that it’d been years since you’d had a private moment of free access to your own vagina. Moreover, she was the type of gay that wasn’t a gayness of reluctance. Kimmi guessed that up to half of the women in the prison, at least, were willing, but very few were voracious about it. Like Lily, they’d sexualized what was available. The straighter girls relished those few moments on changing tables with male guards, doing everything they could to repress their extreme embarrassment and the awareness that the guard who was seeing her excrement couldn’t possibly find her sexy. They’d whisper to each other about the way he wiped. He lingered. He palmed my butt. Nobody ever had the heart to remind the women of what they already knew themselves. Well, Rita did, and gave everyone yet another reason to hate her. It mattered greatly to the straights what fantasy they could roll their eyes back into when the stiff and pissy diaper on their crotch was pressed into their clit by another female inmate. If they could believe that they were back on that table with strapping officer Sipho, if they could believe that the mouth kissing their breasts through their orange jumpsuit featured his stubbly lips, they could cum. Lily never disabused a straight woman of that fantasy. She knew best to melt away, to simply appreciate the time between her legs, even if she wasn’t thinking about Lily and there was nothing down there but diapers and urine to smell. When their half-assed efforts to help Lily cum in return brought them both to boredom, Lily was fine to leave. The memory and imagination of the straight woman’s genitals beneath all those layers and the memory of her convulsing body, were vivid enough for Lily to pleasure herself alone in her cot. But Kimmi meant it. Kimmi reciprocated. Kimmy sought it out and saw her as more than an elaborate vibrator which she could place between her legs while she fantasized about what lay behind the zipper of officer Sipho. Kimmi didn’t become ashamed and refuse to talk to Lily for weeks after one shared moment. She would be eager again and again until the guards hauled them both on the dock. And then some. “I think we’ll still be together,” Lily said. “We haven’t talked about it.” “What’s she doing?” “I don’t know. Probably celled,” she said. Marji had been in an equally bad mood since the guards had caught them on top of eachother yesterday. Knowing Marji, she’d lashed out and was sitting on her cot with a chain around her ankle. “Atta girl,” Kimmi said. “I’m not trying to steal her girl, you know,” Kimmi said. At this point, Lily was only pretending to mop. “No. I couldn’t imagine a lady with a diaper like yours would attempt to flirt with a catch like me,” Lily said. Kimmi laughed again. “Hey. If I waited to be clean to make my moves, my cunt would close up. You gotta know what you’re working with.” With this, Kimmi made a shimmy and showed her bottom to Lily, pressing it against the bars. It was a grotesque thing to do considering what Kimmi’s diaper had inside it, but Kimmi never shied away from the absurd. It was refreshing, even when it made Lily recoil in mock disgust. “Oh stop it,” she said. “Hey, your hour is almost up, by the way,” Kimmie said. She motioned to the clock that was high up on the wall at one end of the block. “You on one or two changes today.” “I’ve not been changed since just after breakfast.” And didn’t she know it. Her diaper was soaked, and she’d been holding number two since then. A guard had felt her ass right after the end-of-breakfast bell, before her meal had got things moving. She’d discretely pushed as he felt her, but all she managed to do was fart into his hand. It wasn’t atypical timing for a first change, and as a three changer she could expect to get changed in the two or so hours after breakfast. She preferred on the later end of that range, so she could get her movement going and so her first change of the day could be a dirty one. It didn’t always work out that way. “When they let you out, let’s get changed together,” Kimmi said. She didn’t mention let’s try to get changed together. Sometimes, it was nice to pretend that you had agency. Surprisingly, she was dead right. Lily’s diaperchange was all but assured after her chore was done. It was more than an hour after lunch now, and the guards went looking for the threes before and after lunch. Lily was probably one of the last threes to still be wearing her post-breakfast diaper, excluding those who’d been downgraded to twos for discipline. It sure felt like it. The ideal day, for Lily, was a late post-breakfast change, a late post-lunch change, and then a post-dinner change, so that she was fresh for lockdown. She rarely got all three in a day, but much of her excess effort was spent trying to orchestrate it. What else was there to do? She’d hide from guards before meals and find them after, when she was fuller. The goal was always to spend as little time as possible in full and dirty diapers. She doesn’t need a law degree, she needs diapers. She wondered if her jury thought of that when they considered her guilt. Yes, this woman needs her priorities narrowed down to nothing but a toddler’s mindset. Where to pee and poop most effectively. That’s where this grown woman, who once argued cases before a court, who survived three years of law school, who was about to make partner at just twenty-eight, belonged. That’s what her mind was really good for. Good mopping and good fecal logistics. “You just want to see me naked.” Kimmi craned her head. “It’s officer Billie at the table,” she said. “At least at the close one.” Lily stepped out of the cell with her bucket and mop and looked down the hall. She still knew most of the women sitting in the chairs there. Lindsey was there. The woman who’d tracked mud through her section was there too. She was the one on the table, but from their angle they could only see her large tits bouncing about as the officer Billie raised and lowered her legs. Way beyond, she could see the blast doors to the guard quarters. One of the doors creaked open, and a guard came through it and into the cellblock. The door shut lazily behind them, but the hollow slam reverberated all the way down to Kimmi’s cell. “Damn,” Lily said, looking at officer Billie. Kimmi allowed herself to be distracted by the scene for a few moments. For once, Lily knew Kimmi wasn’t looking at the bare-chested woman. She turned back to Lily. “Well get it done and stick together. You got five minutes so nows your time,” she said. She was very likely right. Five minutes left in her hour (which was almost all the time she needed to actually complete the job allotted for an hour), meant she should get to business. She was only relieved when a guard ordered her to bring her bucket and mop to the closet. Generally, a diapercheck would come after that. Lily had planned all along to poop right at the end of her hour. Her early change notwithstanding, and the squicky itchiness she felt right now (which was par for the course after the prosecution nailed her many years ago), today was fixing to be an efficient, reasonable day. The punishments for playing with Marji would not come until tomorrow. “Alright,” Lily said, and she headed out of the cell toward the center of the block, where Lindsey had pooped earlier. It also occurred to her that she had spent conspicuously long in Kimmi’s cell, and she was definitely pushing discipline if the guard on the catwalk was paying attention. Kimmi put a hand on her shoulder, though. Lily stopped, and watched where Kimmi pointed. “Do it on Rita’s bed,” she said. Lily turned. “Noo,” she said. “That’s a little much.” “Come on. She won’t notice it over everything else,” Kimmi said, waiving to herself. “Just give her a nice extra flavor to her pillow. You know she deserves it.” Kimmi’s suggestion was extreme. It represented a side to Kimmi that Lily had rarely seen. A ferocity and vengefulness that did not coincide with her general cheerfulness. But it still made sense to Lily. Loyalty and camaraderie were the root of Kimmi’s character. It was her and her girls against the bullshit. Rita wasn’t one of them. Rita with her horn-rimmed glasses, who paid the commissary extra to get her hair products, who threatened everyone with a salacious expose, who bragged that when she was out, the world would welcome her eagerly. Many of inmates, despite their lofty origins, knew that nothing waited for them but diapered slavery and middle-class employment. And even the best outcomes were still many, many years down the road. She’d even written about Lily. Before Rita had found trouble with the law, Rita made headlines finding out everything she could about other wealthy men and women who’d fallen out of favor with Shamurian society. Case Closed! Corrupt lawyer weeps and begs like a helpless lamb as she realizes the law is no longer on her side. “She really squirmed when we got her out of court. They’re all very emotional so we understand. But they have to learn quickly that if they fight us, we’ll change them less. We’ll keep that diaper on ice until the morning and she’ll understand what she’s in for.” It’d all been true. Rita had gotten to one of those guards and got the quote. Even the story about sitting in that first diaper until the following morning was true. At first, Rita’s own fall from grace was celebrated in Stenton. Then they met her, and realized nothing could be worse than having to hear her talk. Rita was the bullshit. All of this is to say that yes, Lily leaned her mop against the bars, kicked off her slippers, and squatted right on Rita’s pillow. Here’s what happens when you’re not on our side but you’re inside, you cunt. It was relaxing and delightful, truly. One of the best bowel movements she’d ever had in her entire time at Stenton. A massive relief. Her stomach shrunk an inch in circumference. Officer Billie at the table waiting to deal with it. The rest of the day to relax and play cards and only have to worry about how fast she was pissing herself. Her poop was huge and firm and as disgusting as ever, but she wouldn’t have to be in it long. “What the fuck!” came a voice. Lily hadn’t realized she’d opened her eyes. “Fuck you,” Kimmi said. Her voice wavered though, and Kimmi seemed to shrink away from the new person standing in the door between the bars of her cell. Lily gasped and stumbled off of Rita’s bed. “I said the fuck are you doing?” Rita asked, stepping into the room. She was blonde and freckly, and she kept her hair wavy with the product she bought. “Nothing,” Lily said. “Nothing?” Rita was shouting. Lily was anxious to leave. A guard who arrived had a lot of pretext in the scene that was unfolding. “You were shitting on my pillow.” “No she wasn’t,” Kimmi said. Rita spun and pointed a finger at Kimmi. Rita’s cheeks were flush, and her eyes were still watery from the spanking she’d taken on the dock. She didn’t deserve any sympathy, but it was hard to imagine her being anything but angry at what she’d returned to. “It was your idea,” she said. “It wasn’t my idea because nothing happened!” Kimmi shouted. Lily was trying to step between the two, to get her bucket and leave. Kimmi could handle herself. If a guard came now to see this, she was sure to be disciplined. Getting into a fight in a cell when she was supposed to be mopping was way out of line. Rita’s bone to pick was clearly with Kimmi, despite the fact that it had been Lily’s action that had enraged her. Lily pushed past them, grabbed her bucket and mop, and exited the cell. Her diaper was incredibly full of piss and poop, and it squished into her as she walked. She was sweating all over now too, and she could feel the oil of her hair on the back of her neck, the moisture down the sides of her hot jumpsuit, and of course, all of the heat generated by the mess she’d made in her diaper. She wanted out of there, to continue making wet circles on the ground until some guard took her to be changed by officer Billie. “Stop! Hands on the bars!” Lily’s heart sank. She propped her mop in the bucket and did as she was told. She was outside the cell, and she knew the position. Palms open, hands up above the head, feet spread, chest against the bars. She didn’t even see the guard who had ordered her against the bars, but she could hear his boots and that his voice was male. She could also hear that he wasn’t messing around. “You two, against the wall, now!” Kimmi and Rita immediately stopped talking and assumed the same position, but against the wall at the back of their cell. Lily was anxious for what came next. She heard the guard walking, his boots creaking and the chains and metal hanging from his belt loops were jingling like he was Santa Claus. “What happened?” came another guard’s voice. This one was female. “Fight.” “Physical?” “No.” “About what?” Rita, like an idiot, decided to speak. “They shit on my pillow!” “Quiet!” The guards barked at the same time. “Head against the wall,” the female guard said. Lily could see that Rita’s head was against the wall, but the guard continued. “Do you hear me?” “Yes ma’am!” Rita said. “You talk again, I’ll bring you right back to the dock, you hear me?” “Yes ma’am!” “You want that to happen?” “No ma’am!” Lily could hear the smugness in the voice of the female guard. They enjoyed doing that to inmates. It could go on for minutes. Rita surely hated it, Rita would be scratching a hole through the concrete in rage right about now. Lily couldn’t enjoy the schadenfreude, though. Her’s was coming. The guards then talked to themselves. They were so quiet that Lily couldn’t even hear them. Finally, the male guard addressed her. “You, out here,” he said. “Yes sir.” “What happened just now?” Lily gulped. “I was offering to clean cells because I had mopped the main floor, sir,” she said. “I was cleaning this one,” she said. “You were cleaning this one?” “Yes sir.” “Whose cell is this?” “This is their cell, sir,” she said. She realized that this was vague, so she motioned with her head inwards, towards the two women. “Have you defecated in your diaper?” this time the female guard asked. “Yes ma’am.” “When did you defecate in your diaper?” “A while ago ma’am, while I was doing my job, ma’am.” “When’s your job up?” the female guard said. Lily knew this answer could damn her. “Not sure. It might be soon, I might have had another hour. I’m not sure if I’ve been given two hours or not, Ma’am.” The male guard spoke to the female one. “She’s up on her chore now, I was about to come get her.” They were quiet for a moment. Lily wondered if they were still talking. The guards knew the schedules and goals of their inmates as well as the inmates. The guards knew that inmates would try to time their messing for when they were most likely to be changed. This meant that Lily’s claim to have messed herself a while ago was doubtful to them, and if Lily was lying about that, then Lily was in all likelihood the guilty party. Rita was then asked to give them a play-by-play. Contrary to her signature journalistic flourish, Rita was not unlike the blonde prosecutor that had sent Lily here in the first place. Another blonde bitch getting the better of me. Rita knew to tell her story politely, soberly, and with plenty of sir’s and ma’ams so as to be as deferential as possible. She told everything she could. She said I think I saw and I think that to make herself seem more impartial. She might have been screaming at Lily and Kimmi just moments before, but now she ‘wasn’t quite sure what she saw.’ When Rita was done, the pair of guards returned their attention to Lily. “What do you have to say?” “I don’t know sir.” “Is she right?” “I don’t know sir, I’m not sure what she said, sir.” “She said she saw you on her bed, squatting on her pillow.” “No sir.” “No sir what?” “I didn’t do that, ma’am.” “Then what were you doing in that cell?” “Mopping ma’am.” “For ten minutes?” They were probably already going to side with Rita for everything, so there were was no use lying further. Lily felt her legs tremble. She tried to maintain her composure. Despite all of the wetness in her jumpsuit, and the piss in her diaper, Lily’s throat was dry.“Yes ma’am.” “Were you talking with another inmate while on your job?” Answering truthfully also got Kimmi in trouble, but she knew that Kimmi knew that ship had sailed. “Yes ma’am.” Lily bit her lip and rested her head against the bars. The day had been going so well… This woman doesn’t need a law degree. She needs diapers. Send her where she belongs. They’d probably cell her in her dirty diaper until dinner. She was probably looking at a two-change day. They might add an extra visit to the dock next week too. Kimmi would get something similar. “Did you lie to us earlier? Did you defecate yourself on that inmates pillow? Be honest now, don’t make us have to ask this stupid question a million times.” And then, for reasons Lily didn’t quite understand, she started crying. The tears came out of nowhere, as if they were as incontinent as Kimmi was when she was asleep. She convulsed and her stomach sucked in like she was experiencing the mother of all hiccups. She could see the jury, the prosecutor with the long blonde hair, the lawyer trying to be as nice as possible when she was really tying to say: “You’re fucked beyond belief.” She could feel the dock, which was coming for her ass tomorrow. She could feel the good day she had slipping away. Another good day lost in a sea of lost days, spent mopping and plotting out when she peed and pooped like it was life or death. “Yes,” she finally said, not knowing why she said it, and wishing she hadn’t. “Yes ma’am?” the guard asked. Her voice was a lot closer. Lily was trained well enough to not move her head. “Yes ma’am,” she said. Snot choked her voice. She thought about being in this same position, against a wall, side by side with Marji. Just yesterday. Different officers, different violations, different cells. Same awful outcome. “You defecated on her pillow?” “Yes ma’am!” she said. Tears were getting into her mouth and sticking her hair to her cheeks. Was she one of the bad ladies now, one of the idiots who couldn’t avoid the dock? “You lied to us, why?” “Because I didn’t want to get in trouble,” Lily said. She felt like such a child saying that. That was the guard’s whole point. “Ma’am.” She wanted to wipe her eyes, but she knew she had to keep her hands on the bars. “You happy you’re in trouble now though?” Always, always, guards asked questions like that. Just like in court. Lily is eager to get this next phase of her life underway, so that she can learn from her mistakes. Yes, I’m looking forward to my docking. I love my diapers. I love them so much because they remind me of who I am. “Yes ma’am.” “Say it!” “I’m happy I’m in trouble, ma’am,” she said. She broke down again, and coughed. She could hear the guard stand up. She expected one of them to grab her arm and pull her, and her full diaper, back to her cell for the rest of the day. But that isn’t what happened. Not exactly. Instead, the two guards talked quietly for the final time. “Take her through the doors,” the female guard said.
  18. Hi there! This is about a fictional ABDL community that I'm working on. It features adults who live in a kinky community for ABDLs. Everyone is over 18. I have about 10 chapters done and will be posting them here over time. Here is a detailed disclaimer that talks about the content and themes of this novel:: https://www.patreon.com/posts/65186383 Content Warnings Extensive Diaper Use (Wetting and Messing) Extensive Regression themes Extensive Sexual themes Adult Nursing CNC Spanking/Corporal Punishment/Orgasm Control-Denial/Chastity Bullying and teasing Humiliation ------- Previous chapter is here: ------- Andrew sat in the Daycare playroom. He had nothing to do until lunch. He sat on the bench of one of the large plastic picnic tables. Often, these tables were a platform for arts and crafts such as beading or stenciling, but for now, they stood empty. The day hadn’t really got going yet. Most babies were on their way to chores, or to potty class, and if a baby didn’t have to do either of those things, perhaps they opted to go back to bed. Some, sure, had gone off to the gym, or had taken walks before the June air got too hot. Many were here, doing what he was doing, kicked out of the cafeteria, but not quite ready to move on to begin their day. They formed gaggles in the vast expanse of the playroom. There was a group laying on the floor, their hands cradling their full bellies. Others had turned on the television and leaned back with their heads in their hands. Still some weren’t satisfied with their breakfasts, and had taken to the in-playroom kitchen. Even with all of that, the playroom felt deserted. The Daycare playroom is the biggest single playroom of all of Nurserton. The grand Daycare playroom. It wasn’t even the Daycare’s only playroom, though it was far larger than its sibling, a playroom that was itself as big as the only playroom in the Preschool. That other playroom was upstairs and almost a ten minute walk from the big playroom, which was on the first floor and could be found just inside the main door. The big playroom didn’t take credit for being the largest room of Nurserton in general, though. That’d go to the Nursery, which in some senses was all one big room, minus the network of grownup apartments that encircled that lofted room. It was once a concert hall, during Nurserton’s past life as an elite boarding school. He was very familiar with the openness of the Nursery. This playroom, also called the ‘main’ playroom, or ‘the market’ or ‘the casino,’ -all of which were fitting nicknames in one way or another- was in many ways the heart of all of Nurserton. Well, the outdoor campus on a nice day might be, but all year-round this place held a fair claim to the title of Nurserton’s common ground. Nursery babies who were friends with Preschoolers would meet here as a natural halfway point between their homes. Juniors would meet other Juniors in one of the many alcoves, fresh off work and wishing to rest their legs after a morning of standing beside the changing tables. Andrew watched a lady move across the large carpeted expanse. She was bounding, almost skipping, no, almost hopping like a frog. She traveled across the great and uninterrupted and multi-patterned carpet, a carpet that is a large part of why they called this place the casino. In terms of games, there were only videogames and board games, so Andrew figured that had to be why. Casinos were always carpeted in big colorful and gaudy carpets. The hopping woman -Andrew did not know her name- stopped and whirled around. A grownup had called to her, waving her back. The woman tapped her chest, as if to confirm that yes, indeed, had that grownup called her? It seemed he had, and she walked her way back towards him. She wore a frilly dress, which matched her bow and was accentuated by long white stockings. She addressed the grownup, who hadn’t taken a step in her direction after calling her over. He spun her gently by the shoulder, ignored everything but her dress, which he lifted by the fistful from the back. The grownup’s other hand fished into the back of her diaper, visible now that the dress was displaced, until he let it snap back into place. The grownup then clasped a hand on her wrist, spoke something into her ear, and led her away. Now that the grownup had drawn her too close to himself for her to have room to skip and hop, Andrew noticed that she waddled. Andrew left breakfast in the cafeteria over ten minutes ago. In that time, he’d watched many other babies share the same fate as the girl in the frilly dress. First a diaper check, and sometimes a brisk walk out of the playroom to disappear down the hall to the left. Sometimes they went free. In fact, a check happened to him only a few minutes ago. The check itself was brought about by another man, another baby, who had been on the same plastic bench. The boy had been occupying it, and affecting the air around it, since before Andrew arrived. This did not bother Andrew, but a grownup, trawling as they do during this time of the morning, did get bothered. The grownup (a different one from the one who pounced on the girl with the frills), sensed something amiss with his nose, turned his head toward the plastic bench, and made Andrew and the other man stand up for a onesie-unbuttoning. Andrew had been deemed wet, but his Puffington Plus had plenty to give yet. The other man, the guilty baby whose stinky diaper had brought the checks upon Andrew and himself, followed the grownup out of the playroom, going the same way as the lady. He sighed. The now-gone manbaby sitting on the tables beside him had been cute. Andrew had caught his name when the grownup addressed him. It was Paul, or something that began with P. P for the poop in his pants. Clean shaven, slender, and wiry…with a diaper that had bulged and hung behind him, even through the onesie. There was nothing sexier to Andrew. He’d thought of joining maybe-Paul when the grownup had made eye contact with them and come over with the intent of checking both Andrew and Paul. If he had, he would have been escorted the baby-way too; out of the cavernous playroom and down the hall to the left, with the cute man beside him. The grownup was attractive too. A man in his thirties, with a beard. Andrew hadn’t paid any more attention to him than he had to, though. He preferred other babies. But the stinky man was straight, Andrew knew that for sure. He’d given the grownup a little nuh-uh when asked about his diaper and earned himself a smack on his bottom when it turned out he’d been rebellious for rebellion’s sake. It’d been very cute, but no, Andrew still was sure he was straight. He’d never seen him play with anyone, men or women. Andrew hadn’t been around the Daycare long enough to know many people that well, so his lack of information could be misleading. Yet the stinky man just had a straightness to him…he just had that masculine simplicity of a cis-het man. No, he’d have to look someplace else. It was like this, on Mondays. He had potty training on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. He had chores on Monday afternoons, Wednesdays, and Saturday mornings. Those commitments weren’t the issue, it just so happened that everyone he knew was busy on Monday mornings. A friend of his, Sean would be around and available on Thursday morning, eager and staring at him in the cafeteria, and Andrew would know to keep his diaper as clean and dry as he could so they could slip the door-grownup (there was always a door grownup manning the main door to the Daycare, and they wouldn’t let anyone come to or go from Daycare with a soiled diaper) and get into the woods to play. Erik was available in the time-sense, but not in a romantic sense. Well that wasn’t one-hundred percent true, come to think of it. If Erik was indeed dating Geoff, as everyone said they were, then Erik was very free…for a price. Erik would drop everything to say yes, that was the point of dating Geoff. But Geoff would come for his tushy tax sooner or later. Tushy tax. Geoff liked his hierarchies, and he loved to let anyone top his bottom, as long as Geoff himself was the top of tops. Andrew would love to pay that tax someday. The problem was that he couldn’t really use what he’d pay for. It was the same issue he had with Aron, who was just about the only boy free on Monday mornings. Aron’s cock was in plastic, and not just diaper plastic. Hard plastic with a padlock. There was nothing for Andrew to do with him. Andrew adjusted himself on the plastic bench. Maybe he’d go back to his crib for a nap. His room was on the west side of the Daycare, and thus the room would be cool and dark, because it was shielded from the morning sun. His roommates, all three of them women because of course they would be, wouldn’t likely be there. Likely. If Erin, hell, if even his roommate Mika were there, neither would tell on him if they noticed he was playing. But not even that would be an issue. His roommate Erin, a former Nursery baby who was long in the Nursery before now, was in potty training on Monday mornings. Mika, a miniscule woman in her late thirties with a pixie cut and a sex drive to rival his own, had been given extra chores and was thus also accounted for this morning. Getting caught diapers-down with a guy in the plushie forest will do that. Aron’s plastic predicament was further testament to that. The problem with going back to the dorm wasn’t Erin or Mika, though. It was his third roommate, Angela. She’d tell on him for playing even if she wasn’t there to see it. She’d sniff the room and declare it smelled like boycum (she had done this, but thankfully only to try to frame Mika). Andrew preferred not to think about her. Just his luck. Potty train for months to get to Daycare, and wind up in a dorm room full of women. As women went, 2-3 were just fine, and Erin was one of the best around. But still! The plushie forest loomed not far away. It was an entire offshoot from the main playroom, a deep and rather dark rectangle growing out of the side of the playroom causeway. It was home to some of the largest stuffies in all of Nurserton; Fredline the enormous bear, almost twenty feet tall. Tiburon the blue whale, big and solid enough that you could crawl into its mouth and nestle in his hollowed out belly. Tiburon was a common snuggle place for fresh couples, though anybaby with experience knew that grownups checked there often for more aggressive canoodlers, and doing anything more than spooning and kissing would land you on the wrong end of the paddle for sure. There was another bear, Frosty, who was a huge smiling polar bear. Andrew didn’t like him; his white fur was impossible to keep clean, and he was thankful that the plushie forest was often dark enough to not notice. There were at least a dozen other plushies taller or longer than ten feet, and perhaps a hundred more stuffed animals that would be considered large if seen anywhere else, and not beside the other plushie leviathans. Most were at least the size that might be the grand prize at some arcade, hanging there at the carnival stall as the grand prize for an impossible game of ‘throw the ring on the bottle’. The plushie forest was so named because, given the variety of stuffies that you could find there in the dim light, it seemed as if the space had tall trees and low bushes. It served mostly as a place to talk in private, to nap in complete and soft bliss, or to take a big risk in playtime. It wasn’t the dumbest place to play. It was possible to get away with it. Outside was best, but there was no sense going out to the woods without someone to play with already. One didn’t waddle through actual bushes looking for sex, not even in an ABDL paradise like Nurserton. If Angela was taking a nap in her crib, it was a better bet to hide behind one of the huge bears than to do it in his dorm. Andrew got hard there, on the plastic bench. Last week he’d been at breakfast with the boys and Aron, still a few days before the incident that would cage him, had stolen glances at him all through the meal. While depositing their food trays, Aron had grabbed his bum. He did it quickly in the crush of all the babies trying to dispose of their own trays and get to their chores or potty class. Understanding the intent of the grab, Andrew had followed the tall and curly-haired boy across the hall and through the playroom. They were each stopped twice for diaperchecks by grownups, but both passed both times. Andrew knew Aron was taking him to the plushie forest, and his heart raced (his heart still raced a week later, just thinking about it). Grownups patrolled the plushie forest enough that their capture was likely if they tried anything daring. Yet Aron got off on the thrill, and the plastic predicament he was in today was not his first such punishment. They went to the big flat tail of Tiburon the whale, walking slowly along the ribbed body of what was perhaps the largest plushie in the whole world. When they finally got to the little alcove created by the soft whale’s tail Aron stopped him and pushed Andrew down by his shoulders. Andrew barely had to pull Aron’s diaper down to see the man’s excitement. He took him in his mouth. Andrew’s chin pressed into the folded wetness of Aron’s diaper. Perhaps knowing that Andrew’s ideal morning was not spent in the pillory or in babyjail, the large barred enclosure in the main playroom for serious timeouts (which were the type of timeouts one got for this sort of thing), Aron didn’t draw it out. Aron came quickly. He held down Andrew’s head as he drew close, and delivered a hefty load into his mouth. Hmmm…what would it be like to be the first boy to play with him after his week in plastic? Andrew hoped he could score that. Aron would cum quickly, but he would cum a lot. Sean would probably get the rights to be the first, though. They played together the most, having been Daycare buddies going on years. Andrew sighed again. He really had to make more of a name for himself here. Sean on Thursdays was his only regular thing. The Aron thing had been recent, but now the plastic had taken it away. He wasn’t reliable anyway, not as a partner. Once out, he’d be back in a cock-cage before long, and his days were often punctuated by inconvenient timeouts. He was always telling Sean: Sorry, I gotta get back to my dorm. My dormgrownup says I’m in trouble. Yet there were tons of boys here, partially because the Daycare was the only building that was majority male. Andrew wasn’t sure why that was, but he knew that if it was, the Daycare was the place for him. All he needed was a boyfriend like Geoff to put his bottom on the market. He also just needed to meet people. Like the stinky boy from earlier. Maybe he was at least a little gay? He did get a little naughty with the grownup. Wouldn’t have hurt to try. How long had Andrew been at Nurserton…over two years? Yet he still felt new. And of course he did, he was new as far as his time in Daycare was concerned. But it had been almost two months since he’d been upgraded to Daycare. He recalled his first days in the Nursery, how hard it had been to remember every new boy’s name. It took him more than a week of sitting down at random tables to finally find Erik, Sean, and Aron, and he’d made few friends since then, and even fewer partners. It seemed that friends just came easier in the Nursery than they did here. The main playroom felt even more dead then it had a few minutes ago, when the skipping girl had been dragged away. Part of this was its size. The babyjail was populated, though few people had misbehaved that badly by 9am, so its occupancy was thin. A pair of babies rode enormous tricycles around. He didn’t pretend to know the schedule of every gay or bisexual man in Daycare, but where were they all? Someone, somewhere, was hankering for a blowjob. This was never a problem in the Nursery. In the Nursery the problems were that almost every guy was a bottom, and it was even harder to find an unsupervised place to play without being busted. A big open room like the Nursery, where over two-hundred babies lived, was the hardest place in all of Nurserton to play. Easy to meet people, harder to play. The Nursery was the direct opposite of the Daycare as far as he assumed. Obviously, being a junior or a preschooler was even more different, but Andrew never considered living in those places. He never wanted to be that big. Being that big was for the real world. He sat there for a while longer, until his morning coffee and breakfast: a bagel and cream cheese, began to work in earnest. Without thinking, perhaps from years of habit at Nurserton already, he placed both hands on the plastic bench and tilted himself forward. His diaper puffed out beneath him. Andrew grunted and exhaled, and then sat himself down. He felt a lot better, he felt a lot lighter. His bladder had let out a strong stream as well, so that his Puffington Plus was bloated. It could still hold more, of course, but no grownup was going to let him continue if they saw him. At least none of his onesie buttons popped. Should have taken care of that ten minutes ago. If he’d just pooped when the straight guy had gotten them both checked, he’d be halfway through the queue in the changing room (There was a big changing room beside the casino and the cafeteria, and it was the largest of its kind in Nurserton, and perhaps the world). That’s where the straight guy was now, along with the girl in the frills, and along with many others the grownups had seen and taken out of the playroom, to take them waddling down the hall to the left. He worried that maybe all the guys were stuck in the changing queue, waiting for their turn on a table. If so, it was all the dumber that he hadn’t punched his changing-room ticket earlier. Andrew sat there, in a dirty diaper, on the plastic bench for still a while further. He thought about where his fourth roommate, Angela, a popular and attractive lady who always brought people back to the dorm to entertain them with gossip and primping, had gone off to. If she wasn’t in the room, the room would be clear, seeing as Erin and Mika were occupied for the next few hours. With his diaper this full (it was a pretty big mess), snuggling in his crib and playing with himself would be very comfortable. And it’d be a perfect crime, so long as he could sneak out before any of the women could properly pin him with the stink he gave the room. Erin wouldn’t even care about the stink, after all, she had spent something like three straight years in the Nursery. Mika would only be slightly bothered. Once again, it was Angela who worried him. Regardless, he still wanted to play with a guy. He wanted to suck a dick. So he stood up, fixed his onesie on his belly because it had gotten scrunched, and began to walk down the immense carpet and the seemingly empty playroom. He didn’t expect to make it far; any grownup who got close would stop and unbutton him and lead him off in the direction of the skipping woman and the straight boy. The thought didn’t bother him much. There were more guys there, after all, if there was one guy sitting there bored and alone in the changing room, there’d be one more guy than there was here in the playroom. Still, he was careful to walk in such a way that avoided intersecting with any of the grownups who sharked about the halls. It was a long ingrained habit to avoid grownups when in a dirty diaper, perhaps the only (and perverse) part of potty training he’d truly internalized. He saw the man who’d detained and escorted the skipping girl away, now in the television room, pulling back every diaper waistband of those babies who sat and watched the morning cartoons. There were at least a dozen sitting there, watching what looked like Rick and Morty, and out of them the grownup had already picked out two of the babies and separated them off to stand by the wall. Andrew made sure not to make too much eye contact, and restricted his waddle as much as he could to make his passing as discreet as possible. As Andrew continued, he peeked into the different alcoves of the playroom, which were organized around the central hallway like stores in an indoor mall. The potty area was the most deserted of all, though one woman had her diaper around her ankles and was perched atop one of the plastic bowls. She watched him as he walked by, Andrew thought the grownup standing beside her would follow her gaze. Andrew deliberately avoided eye-contact, and even if the grownup had looked at him, the grownup had not left her post beside the baby on the potty. The emptiest room of them all was the market room, where babies would come around lunchtime, after potty classes and morning chores and before afternoon chores, to sell their homemade crafts and clothes for babybucks. It could get very crowded on weekend mornings, when the lack of any potty classes meant far more babies had free time to roam about the campus. And babies with free time tend to shop. Or suck dick. He’d trade his best pacifier for some head right about now. He didn’t even need a guy to do it back. He was dirty and wouldn’t want it anyway. It would be better if it was a one-way-street. “Hey you, come over here,” said a voice, and Andrew felt a shot of dread. He spun around to see a grownup walking fast…but not to him. Instead, this grownup had spotted the two babies on the tricycles, who had taken liberty of the empty market room to pedal in circles as fast as they could. The grownup had decided they were going too fast. Andrew hurried away before the grownup’s attention was on him. “Hey, Andrew, come over here,” said a voice. This time, it was a different voice. Andrew turned this time, almost jumping. He was sure a grownup was coming to unbutton his onesie and take him out to the changing room. Yet when he turned he saw Erik. He was sitting on one of the beanbags, in a part of the playroom that could be mistaken for a new age office, or a trendy college library. In fact, it was just a general multi-purpose room. Lots of babies played Magic: The Gathering here. Nurserton residents from the smallest babies to the domliest grownups would gather and play DnD. A long time Nursery girl named Albany, who hadn’t pottied a single time since well before Andrew had shown up at Nurserton, was ironically one of the most popular and skilled DMs, despite the fact that she ran her playgroup of grownups and other bigger kids while wearing nothing more than her enormous Big Squidges and her bright pink body-harness with a leash. Cabinets of boardgames lined the walls. Sometimes there would be huge craft nights, or a Jenga tournament. To support all of this, the space was filled with tables of different shapes, some of which were made of polished wood, and others that were made of milky white plastic. Some of the chairs were swivel chairs, some of them were so ergonomic they looked uncomfortable. Some were just big beanbags, like the orange one that Erik sat on. He pointed to the one next to him. “Come sit,” he said. Andrew didn’t think twice about sitting down in the beanbag, despite the mess in his diaper. He’d done it many times before and so had everyone else. This was Daycare, after all. And Erik was doing very poorly this month on his stars, and the talk at the table during breakfast with the other boys included a referendum on how anyone could only manage three trips, while Erik had sat on his stool eating his pancakes and blushing. Andrew hadn’t said a word, and found himself unwilling to join in on the tease-pile directed at Erik. It would have been hypocritical for a boy who’d had plenty of three-star months in his past in the Nursery, and wasn’t a whole lot better himself even now. “Where have you been?” Erik asked, after Andrew sat. “Just over down there, by the arts and crafts.” “By yourself?” “Yeah. I didn’t know where everyone went.” After the breakfast bell signaled to everyone that potty classes and chores were due to start, Andrew had discarded his plates and empty tray, and turned to see all of his guy friends gone. Aron, Erik, Sean, and all the others. Disappeared into the matrix of the huge building that they called both Daycare and home. Erik smiled. He was a small guy, and young, only in his early twenties. He visited the Daycare barber often, and always kept the sides of his head well faded and the tuft on top well gelled. “Well I know where Sean and I went.” Andrew turned his head. “Sean? He has PT, doesn’t he?” “He does.” Erik craned his neck in the beanbag, and gestured at babyjail. Andrew turned to look, and sure enough, there was tall and lanky Sean, leaning back against the wall with a pacifier in his mouth. “Don’t look too long. You don’t want a grownup to come over here even more than I don’t.” Andrew blushed. He hadn’t even noticed that Erik was dirty. Maybe he wasn’t, maybe he was just super wet. “You should have seen how much trouble he’s in. I think he’s been skipping left and right.” “I hadn’t heard that.” “Me neither. I mean, he’s got what, fifteen stars?” “Something like that. He’s been on a real toppy kick since Aron got the cage.” “I hadn’t realized,” Andrew said, further surprised. Erik bounced a bit in his beanbag. “I mean, everyone tops us, so how would you notice?” Erik grinned at Andrew. Andrew hadn’t meant that, he’d meant that he hadn’t even noticed who was playing with who. He was always a dummy when it came to these sort of things. He hadn’t realized that Erik had been dating Geoff until weeks after it started. He hadn’t realized Aron had been hitting on him until a few days after Aron had started, and then only because Aron had literally put his hand on his inner thigh in the cafeteria. He was just a dumb baby about these things. It’s not like the boys he ate his meals with in Daycare were subtle about anything. In love with cock, but with his diapers too full to ever do anything about it. “But yeah, he’s been up my ass too. He’s going to owe my BF big time.” Erik laughed and took a swig from his baby bottle, which looked to hold water. “And when Aron’s out, he’ll have to deal with some payback too.” “How much does he owe your boyfriend?” Andrew said. Referring to Aron. Erik raised his eyebrows at Andrew. “Is that Mr. Stinky’s way of asking how busy my butt has been? Or are you jealous? And if you’re jealous, jealous of who?” Andrew declined to answer, and picked at a fuzzball on his onesie. He was obviously jealous of how much attention Erik got. “It’s okay, I’m a slut too,” Erik said. “Sean is so funny. He came downstairs with a condom and lube in his pocket. He knew I’d say yes.” Even though sex at Nurserton was always punished for those in the Preschool and below, ample supplies were available in the dorm halls and even in the playroom. Grownups never paid attention to any babies grabbing them, should they see, and made it a rule to never keep an eye to where a baby went after grabbing a condom or bottle of lubricant. It was an unwritten rule; a gentleman’s arrangement between bigs and littles. All part of the big game of cat and mouse that babies and grownups played at Nurserton. Who would there be to spank if nobody was putting their dick in things? Yes, there were more ways to have sex than that, but that’s the only way Andrew ever thought of it, so that’s what he thought of. “Don’t you have to say yes?” Andrew said, referring to Geoff’s rule for all his boyfriends. Erik shrugged. “No. But yes. I have to because as I said, I’m a slut. It’s more like that. When someone wants to get it on, I just wanna go. Geoff or not. It’s just an obsession. I’m sure you know. It’s like you must feel when you gotta poop.” Andrew waved him off. “I’m at seven stars and you’re not even clean right now.” “How often are you clean after someone mounts you, buddy?” Erik grinned, and Andrew realized this was a reference to what he and Sean had done together in the plushie forest. “And besides, this isn’t my prove-it month. You’re going to the Nursery,” he said, referring to the fact that if Andrew didn’t get his ten stars this month, he’d be packing his things for the Nursery once again. The rule of two months. The trend rule. Ten stars in a month was the bar in Daycare, and if you fell below that for too long, you were sent back to the Nursery. The converse was also true…get more than ten stars in two consecutive months when you’re in the Nursery, and you’d be filling a bin with your belongings for a new life in Daycare. Consecutive months. Trends. One terrible month wasn’t going to sink you unless you made it a habit. One great month in the Nursery wasn’t going to elevate you unless you could keep the momentum going. It’d taken Andrew a while to string two consecutive 10-star months in the Nursery. It wasn’t incontinence that held him back. Habit was part of it, the same impulses that made him lift and mess this very diaper were reflexes that were hard to untrain. He had to always remind himself why he was potty training, and that became harder when he no longer was sure about his goal. Often, during those months in the Nursery, he wasn’t. Why go to the Daycare when he already had friends here? Or he would think he’d fallen in love with some boy, and a 10-star month would get thrown away for months until he or that boy had moved on. Once he had a really good streak of potty training going, a good six weeks better than he’d ever done, and gotten cold feet. Would anyone in Daycare even like me, or am I just a snotty stinker? He’d chickened out at eight stars multiple times, as his diapers became fuller and fuller as dread of a lonely life in the Daycare loomed. I’m just not big enough, he’d tell himself. Eventually, he’d gotten the courage to actually use the potty enough… and now, in just two months of Daycare, he was risking a quick fall, right back down to the Nursery. Three more stars could save him. Turn his seven into ten, and his May score of only six would melt away into irrelevance. Turn his seven into ten and he’d proved it, he could hang with the big kids here. Turn his seven into ten and he could still sit with Sean and Aron and Erik at breakfast. Turn his seven into ten and he wouldn’t have to try so hard to find a place to suck some dick in the big Nursery room where nobody at all was anything close to a top, save the grownups who watched everything. Turn his seven into ten and he wouldn’t have to prove anything until August. A successful June would protect him in July too. Consecutive months! He could avoid the potty all July, and he’d still have a home address in Daycare. His friends would tease him, and his roommate Angela would tell everyone about how dreadfully baby her roommate was. But he’d stay here. Suddenly, he felt jealous of the woman he’d seen sitting on the potty as he’d walked through the playroom. If only he’d been a bit more thoughtful. He’d worked so hard to get here. All it took was a potty trip of any kind to get a star. One successful squat on a plastic bowl, and he’d have a star added by an excited grownup. There wasn’t a limit for how many he could get a day…he could have a potty bonanza and drink tons of water and get all ten done in a day if he wanted. If he really wanted… “I still have three potty classes,” Andrew said. “Before the end of June. And I’m at seven, I remind you.” “And when’s the last time you pottied outside of class?” Andrew had a quick answer for this. “You have to, in the Nursery. You only have eight classes a month. Eight classes to get ten stars.” And he wasn’t lying. Indeed, many agreed that the hardest thing to do in all of Nurserton was to potty one’s way out of the Nursery. It was even harder, many thought, than doing the twenty stars required in two consecutive months to go from the Daycare to the Preschool. All the more reason to not wind up there again. “I know,” Erik said. “You’ve told everyone a dozen times. But you’re as fucked in a potty sense as Sean will be in a real sense, when Geoff has some free time to leave the Preschool and his big important chores. Yet you’ve had twelve classes and only got seven stars out of them, and you seem to be proud of it.” Erik said this as if there was no irony with what he was about to do at all. Erik propped himself up on his bean bag to finish the job. Apparently, his post-sex evacuation had not been sufficient. Exhaling, he glanced at the big causeway of the playroom and examined the comings and goings of babies and grownups. “I can’t believe we’ve made it this long,” he said, referring to the fact that no grownup had come over, undone their onesies, and sent them to the big changing table. Andrew thought of the girl in the frills. She was probably out and playing by now, unless the changing room was as crowded as it could get. He thought of that crowd. The grownups were still doing work, and it was just coincidence that they, a pair of poopy boys, hadn’t been caught yet. When they were caught, they were going to be stuck waiting for a free changing table for a while. “Sean is gonna be out of babyjail before we’re off the tables.” Erik rubbed his temples. “Yeah there’s probably a long line.” He turned his head to Andrew. “You said you were jealous of Sean. Wanna go hide together?” Andrew felt a pang of adrenaline. “But we’re both…” “You’re a nursery boy, don’t tell me that it bothers you.” “It doesn’t bother you?” Andrew said, blushing. Erik grinned. “We’ll just cuddle…and stuff. It’s not like my ass can take another right now anyway, even if it was yours.” “You’ve never had mine!” Andrew squirmed. “You pop enough stiffies on the changing table for me to have an idea, baby.” Erik then slid off his beanbag and tapped Andrew on his crotch. “At least you’re big enough for me to tell when I touch you there.” Andrew could say nothing in reply. It’d been true, and it’d been true since looking to see Sean sitting bored in babyjail. Hell, he’d pretty much been hard non-stop since sitting on the plastic bench of the picnic table. He wasn’t just waddling due to what was in the back of his diaper. Erick squatted in front of him, and pressed his hand into his diaper. It was very blatant, and certainly enough to earn both of them a talking to if a grownup saw. The boys of Daycare were not known for their subtlety. But the vast anonymity of the grand playroom protected them. There were too many babies yelling a bit too loud, there were too many tricycles spinning a bit too fast, and there was too much smoke coming from the little kitchen that was set up. Even when it felt empty, the Daycare playroom was still very populated. Finally, Andrew stammered an answer. “Will I have to pay Geoff’s tushy tax?” he said, his cock getting somehow even harder as he said it. “At the top of his list,” Erik said. “He loves Nursery boys the most.” He blushed again. He wanted to tell Erik that no, he wasn’t a Nursery boy. He was just behind the pack. He was saving his pottying for the last minute. He was making it interesting. He wasn’t going to throw away all the arduous potty training he’d gone through in the Nursery for only two stinky months in Daycare. Not this time, at least. Andrew wondered if Erik even remembered when Andrew had been promoted to the Daycare the last time. It was over a year ago. He barely remembered Erik then. He hadn’t found these boys back then. Sean wasn’t even living at Nurserton back then. But the others had, and they had been no more subtle than they were today. Still, Andrew had flunked himself back to Daycare before even noticing. He couldn’t throw it away again. But it was cute to think of it. It was cute to be teased by Erik. Erik, ever the sub, ever the little bottom boy who was already on this morning’s second go-around in the plushie forest, still thought of him as a helpless baby. Andrew’s diaper bulged in both directions. They raced across the playroom, headed to the plushie forest. They went to the belly of Tiburon the whale, waddling boldly forward in their dirty diapers. Both were prepared to be called back, singled out by a grownup to see if they were worthy of a trip to the changing room, but somehow, it never happened. Tiburon’s belly kept them safe, and there they cuddled and talked softly so that nobody walking through the plushie forest would know they were stinking up the inside of the big plushie whale. They laid on top of each other. Andrew enjoyed the feeling of their bloated diapers rubbing against the other. They took turns being the big spoon and the little spoon. It was all a big tease. They were both too dirty to do anything else. But it was exciting enough to be so naughty, to have dodged so many grownups and diaper checks to wind up here, together. It wasn’t fellatio, and as far as Andrew could tell, neither of them came. But it was something. It was better than the plastic bench, and it was better than the changing room. It was better than the Nursery. He was sure it was. They remained there until another baby crawled through the mouth of Tiburon for their own personal quiet time, saw them, and scuttled back out to tell on them. Knowing that they were compromised, Andrew and Erik crawled out of the mouth, only to meet the feet of a grownup as they exited. After both promising that they weren’t up to funny business, they were hauled off for much needed changes. Funnily enough, the baby that had crawled through Tiburon just to crawl back to selfishly bust them, a red-headed Daycare baby named Suzy, hadn’t calculated that she too would be checked, and was taken to the changing room with them.
  19. Hi there! This is the prologue to an ABDL novel that I'm working on. It features adults who live in a kinky community for ABDLs. Everyone is over 18. I have about 10 chapters done and will be posting them here over time. Here is a detailed disclaimer that talks about the content and themes of this novel: https://www.patreon.com/posts/should-you-read-65186383 Other Content Warnings (to be included in entirety in every chapter installment) Extensive Diaper Use (Wetting and Messing) Extensive Regression themes Extensive Sexual themes Adult Nursing CNC Spanking/Corporal Punishment/Orgasm Control-Denial/Chastity Bullying and teasing Humiliation ------------------------- The journalist normally preferred to do his afternoon drafting in a local café. One where he had to pay for the internet. He could pay for it, he wasn’t a young journalist anymore, but the simple barrier of procuring his credit card for a $1.99 fee was just enough to disrupt him. He could sit there with his sources all printed out in a neat stack, he could get there just around the end of lunch before the regulars arrived, those burned out graduate students and other young professionals dithering away their extra hours on personal projects they’d never finish. He’d claim a table for himself, make a grid of the differently clamped stacks of paper, and go until the aproned millennials ushered him out. For this source, though, he’d need the internet. More importantly, he’d need privacy. Nobody could snoop through the big glass windows or pilfer behind him and catch a glimpse of these correspondences. Regardless, he wasn’t at the drafting stage yet anyway. Initial contact had been at 2:11 pm on Tuesday, via an email so fake and alarming that Jasper Allenwood was at first frustrated at the laxity of his Gmail’s email filter. Much spam was caught and much got through still, and so he wasn’t all that miffed. He was a member to many publications, both popular and obscure, as any known and connected purveyor of truth and fact must be, and by thus wheeling his address all throughout different mailing lists across the web to become such a member, every mass distribution of ‘EXCLUSIVE’ and ‘YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE’ frittered into his attentions. It was insulting to him that Jasper Allenwood’s name would fall on lists of those who might be interested in salacious clickbait, but the tendrils of a successful journalist must go deep. This contact, though, with an email address that was absolutely dubious, didn’t fit the bill. It was why he clicked on it, why he bothered to read it. Perhaps it was that the message didn’t use all caps, and instead presented itself as a quiet whisper among the other boisterous demands for his attention. Maybe because the message subject didn’t bother to tell him up front that it was for his eyes only, that it didn’t use the word ‘scoop’ anywhere, that it was perfectly spelled all the way through. Spelling, and the lack of it, is a thing bots and spooks use to make themselves seem more real. After all, perfection is considered to be suspicious. And so, frankly, was what the person had written to him about. Yet it was also compelling. It presented itself as fact. Take it or leave it, I’ll find another, it seemed to say. For your eyes only was not a threat borne in bold in this email, it was an unstated opportunity. Whomever this writer was knew that if a reader believed and actually read the simple facts that were relayed, all desired behavior could be compelled by that reader’s simple curiosity. And the need for the scoop. Jasper Allenwood was not above the scoop, even if he was above $1.99 internet café fees. Good journalists are like lawyers, that way. The stuff has to happen in order to write about it. Jasper prepared for this meeting, which once again would occur at 2:00pm on a Tuesday, one week after initial contact. He researched the terms and everything tangential. He’d not been surprised by any of the fundamental concepts. Kink wasn’t abnormal to a learned man, though it was never the subject of any of his journals or subscribed publications, nor was it even the topic of anything that filtered through his spam. Scandals were not his bread and butter, but this wasn’t scandal. Well, it could be, he hadn’t determined that yet. He could be the implement of scandal in this case. But this wasn’t traditional, at least. This wasn’t someone saying they had an inside look at some Senator or Governor, about what skeevy things they did with their wife and her friends, or what have you. This was…social. This was a movement. This was notable brainfood for serious scholars of humanity and curators of exquisite menagerie. An Adult Baby and Diaper Cult, is what the person said. He’d already been familiar with this. Large, empowered, infantile men soiling themselves was a meme that he was aware of, though he was not sure from where this specific and grotesque image originated. That there were all sorts, of course, and not just overweight slobs with mommy issues, that the dominant image of a man in a big buttoned diaper and bonnet was perhaps completely inapplicable to a much vaster reality. This occurred to him instantly as he read what the contact described. He thought of his many ex-partners, who might fit the bill. Suzy, she’d be the best fit, and he’d thought of her instantly. She’d wet the bed when too drunk, she’d bite her lip and call him sir or mister or even, he swore, daddy. That last utterance had pulled him out once, in surprise. She’d swore she’d said dammit until he’d sunk his cock back inside her and they’d never spoken of it again. She wanted anal, she wanted anal chastity. She demanded that he stuff plump metallic and jeweled butt plugs up her keister for dates to stuffy formal dinners. Where did Suzy run off to? Sometimes, you can really feel the blood leave your head. Thank goodness he wasn’t at the café. It was 1:50pm. But this person had said so much more. A thousand of them or more lived there. An entire campus. An entire enclosing wall to keep the world out. Shipments of food and even greater shipments of diapers. Diapers by the truckload. A complement of adults (they were all adults), numbering in the hundreds themselves, to take care of the thousands of diaper changes a day. A complicated hierarchy that cowed and rewarded the thousands based on potty training. It was too absurd to ignore. He replied. “Thank you for reaching out about this. I have many questions and am not sure I believe the statements you’re making. Would you have time to discuss this over the phone?” Days went by, and then a reply, from a different email address, starting a brand new thread. “Yes. I would like to discuss life here with you.” He almost skipped over this email too, until he connected its perfunctory oddness as a reasonable reply to his last message. The clandestine nature, the use of a new thread, of replying with a new message, of, after a few more correspondences agreeing to a very specific and duplicative time, reminded him of the time he’d broken a story about forced labor abuse in American Prisons. Someone was trying to be secret, and someone didn’t have that much free time. The appointed time had arrived, however. They could not talk on the phone, the person explained, in email. But they could use Skype. Jasper could do this, voice chat if possible, but the person demurred to this as well. They’d text back and forth using the Skype app, and that’d be all. Jasper did not even know the username of the individual. Apparently, they would request him sometime after 2pm. He had given the contact his address, and now all he could do was wait. “User13469 has sent you a message request,” came an alert, popping up with an obnoxious sound from the toolbar of his computer. Jasper navigated to the alert and accepted it. “Hi there, I’m here. Thank you for contacting me.” “I don’t have much time.” “I understand. We can share information in pieces, over time, is that okay?” Jasper typed quickly. “Yes.” “What’s your name,” he wrote, going too fast to add the question mark. “I shouldn’t say.” “I understand. Down the road, I will need it. I won’t have to publish it but I will need it.” “Okay. Later.” Jasper’s fingers rapped on the table beside his keyboard. He knew he’d have limited questions to ask, and this contact seemed spooked. It was nothing he couldn’t handle.. “How did you find out about this place?” That was a good one. Being able to gain information about this place independent of this source would be crucial, and this question was innocuous enough. “A few years ago,” the person said. “I see,” Jasper typed, a bit frustrated. “Did a friend tell you about it?” “Yes.” “How did they find out?” “I don’t know.” Rats. He should have seen that coming. “What did you think, did you do any research on your own.” “No.” “How did you know you wanted to live there?” “My friend told me all about it.” “What did you think?” “What’s your friend’s name?” There was a pause, long enough for Jasper to consider that whatever external pressure caused this person to message only at two in the afternoon, for only a short while, with different email addresses, with as minimal paper trail as possible, had come. But it had not, and the dots indicating that User13469 was back in action reappeared. “Her name is Suzy.” Jasper, sitting in a chair without wheels, pushed his chair back as if his chair did in fact have wheels. Suzy? He thought. That was coincidental. That was too coincidental. Jasper almost pushed the chair too far back. Relax, there are plenty of randy minxes named Suzy running around with plugs in their asses. His Suzy was a very bohemian lady, and not a social media person. She could be his neighbor now for all he knew, her phone deactivated and incense pouring through the arranged plants in her window. Right? It could also have been a sign. Something to prove veracity to him and him alone. “Thank you,” he wrote. He needed to go faster. Ten minutes had gone by already. “Is it against some rule to talk to me?” “Yes,” was the quick answer. “Okay. Is there anything you feel safe telling me about?” “I’d like to tell you why I reached out.” “You can do that, I’m very curious.” “I need your help to make things the way this place should be.” Jasper rapped his fingers once again. He didn’t have an answer to that. It was a strange answer, and hardly at all in line with what this contact had revealed about the place previously. Adults running around in diapers, sex everywhere, nothing of real value being produced. What about this place could still be alive if he wrote about it? If the whole world knew, and indeed, Jasper Allenwood was not being egotistical when he considered that telling him something was essentially telling the whole world, how could it survive? What was the should be that this individual was talking about, other than utterly destroyed? He had assumed that this person was reaching out to him from a place of concern and alarm. But this was different. Even more interesting, in a sense. He had no obligation to maintain the state of the world. Jasper Allenwood was sworn only to truth and its telling. “And how should it be?” he typed. But there would be no answer. Not that day nor the next, and nor on the following Tuesday. ----- Next Chapter is here:
  20. I’ve always been pretty good at being discreet when I need. My position hardly changes and I don’t show my strain on my face. However, my old mommy used to know, even when I thought she couldn’t tell at all. She told me it was because I made slight grunting noises and my hand always subconsciously floated to my bottom. What about you?
  21. Has anyone ever worn a diaper to school when they was in school, if so what kind and did you get cought? Yes I were attends and I never got cought or never could wet my diaper in class either.
  22. After being disappointed with the lack of ABDL fantasy-adventure stories I decided to create my own. It’s just a silly little thing, but hopefully a bit of fun for those who carry on reading. This is a prelude to the story, so just setting some stuff up here, which may or may not come into play in the future... I dunno, we'll see, might not get that far lol. Either way, the prelude doesn't really have much in the way of ABDL content, purely world-building and story. Hopefully it's still entertaining. I'm uploading chapter 1 as a separate story. This is a re-upload. After some useful comments, I've decided to just upload all the stories in a single topic, which will be updated, and that should make everything easier to follow. Episode 2 will be out in a few weeks (as of 18/12/2021). Law of the Diaper - Prelude - Embos stood at the edge of the water. It crashed far beneath her, obeying only the wind. She had been waiting for her older siblings from across the ocean for a whole hour now, standing in a harsh storm that battered and bruised the cliff face below. Liefyr, her closest brother, had gone to get the others ready. So, she stood alone. The wind howled between her ears and tugged at her hair, and threatened, occasionally, to push her into the waters below. But she was the God of Craft. Embos wore boots of Caerson Steel, strong against the wind, and light to walk in. Each of her sibling gods on this side of the world had given their peoples a gift. Hers was Caerson, a metal both bountiful and useful. Embos hated waiting like this. She needed to do something, to be somewhere, though she didn’t know what on either account. Being the eldest of her siblings, at least of those that left Panthos, Embos felt a great responsibility to the others. A responsibility to nurture and raise. Despite being closer to Liefyr, in age she was similar to her older sibling Vafyr. And that made things complicated. Damn you Vaf, she thought, thinking of the young god. Why had he stayed with the others? Vaf was the weakest of their lot, and certainly wouldn’t be treated as their peer. With Embos and the others, he would be an equal, and great guide for the people here. Her head boiled again with anger, it had been more and more recently. Anger at the war, anger at her elder siblings, anger that she had little power by herself, and anger all she had to rely on were the youngest of gods. No, not anger. Disappointment. Instantly, she felt a pang of shame within her. They are just as valuable, just as powerful in their way. She had to admit, she was surprised at how seriously they were taking it. Normally Pelyr, the youngest of them and the God of Play, convinced Ranos and Liefyr to flunk this sort of thing. Maybe it was because Pelyr would never be able to play again if they failed, that he was taking it so seriously now. Whatever the case, Embos hoped it would last. Another great gust of wind barrelled across the grass, threatening to push Embos into the sea below. Waves crashed against the shore, the ocean’s white teeth foaming against jagged cliffs below. Dull beats, like someone playing the drums, echoed into the sky. The storm whistled around her ears, singing across the ocean. It was a tune she recognised. Looking up, Embos saw her older brother, Vafyr, silhouetted in the ocean mist. He walked on the air itself, using the wind as a path to the safety of the cliff. Around him, the grey mist somehow blushed a bright blue, as if he walked in a halo of sky. It was as if he was the colour of the world. Then again, Embos supposed, I guess he is. Within moments he was stepping onto the rock as if it were still the air, floating across newly budding grass. “Vaf!” Embos couldn’t help but let relief and no small amount of joy flood into her voice. Of all the people they could have sent, this was perhaps the best possible outcome. “Hello sister.” he said calmly, a broad smile across his face betraying any stoicism he might have masked himself with. “They thought you wouldn’t hurt me, so I was sent in place of a messenger.” Vafyr walked to Embos, he was more relaxed than she remembered. “Why would I hurt a messenger? Why would any of us--” “Em, please, I don’t think you’d hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. But that’s not how they think, is it?” Vafyr said as they walked down the shallow incline that led to the village below. Embos saw an opening. Now was the time. Now, after so many years, it was the perfect opportunity to ask. “Then why are you still--” but before Embos could finish, Vafyr cut her off. “I’m sorry, but I cannot say. I have my reasons, and hopefully you will find out soon.” “But I want to know now!” said Embos. She only realised how childish that must have sounded after she’d said it. However, Vaf didn’t seem to mind. He smiled broadly again, a glint in his eye. “Em,” he said, stopping and gently putting his hands on her shoulders. He was a foot taller than she was, towering over her. “I promise, now is not the time, but you will find out.” and that was all he said. Embos knew that was the end of it, she wouldn’t get anything else out of him. Time to move on. They continued their descent to the village. “So, why did you want to speak to us?” Embos asked, “I suppose it would be too much to ask for your loyalty?” The wind picked up again as Vafyr smiled, but the cold never came. Vafyr was too warm for that. “Unfortunately not.” he said, and then he went suddenly serious, his smile fading into what was almost a grimace. “The others want to make a deal with you.” Embos couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. “You’re kidding. After all of this?” she said though a deep, slightly hysterical laughter. “After all you’ve put us through, now you want to make a deal?!” This was utterly ridiculous. Her older siblings never, never, made deals with those who were below them. And now they wanted to make a deal with not only ‘lesser gods’ but the enemy? “Now, I know what you are thinking-” Vafyr started to say, but Embos, finally managing to get control of herself, cut him off before he could do any more damage. “No, I’m sorry but no. You expect me to trust them after what they’ve done, not just to us, but the people of this world? This is stupid!” she said, and carried on walking towards the village. Vafyr stopped her, grasping her arm tightly, and suddenly this wasn’t so funny. Embos’ smiling face twisted into a scowl. “If you don’t trust them,” he said, looking deeply, so very deeply, into her, “Trust me.” They held a deep stare for a moment, before Embos broke away. What did he want? What was his plan? Their plan? He was serious, and Vafyr was rarely serious. “What aren’t you telling me Vaf?” He was holding something back, Embos knew it. There was something in his eyes, something curious, something important. He sighed, seeming resigned. “This is big Em. This is bigger than all of us. We came to a decision the other day, that this is the only way we’ll win this war.” He looked almost scared. Embos hadn’t seen him like this before. “What war?” “The only war that matters. There is … something coming.” Vafyr’s eyes glowed with a fearful anticipation. Whatever he was talking about, whatever was coming, was inevitable. The storm picked up again, blowing wind through the hills that edged the cliff face. It rippled across the grass, sending waves of darkness across the landscape. Trees, dotted here and there, swayed and danced about to the tune of the wind. Far above, clouds sped past. They swirled into each-other and ran towards dry land. Tiny droplets of rain hit skin, like pins-and-needles prickling across Embos’ body. Everything moved, everything was dynamic, everything had so much potential. For the first time, she realised how delicate it all was. While blades of grass flickered in the weather, one could simply halt each one with their thumb and forefinger. What would happen if all of this, this beautiful chaos, just … stopped? Embos realised she had been staring into space for a while. Vafyr had let go of her. She looked to her brother, searching for … something, some sort of solace, some sort of answer. Should she let him speak? Let the traitor influence their minds? If Vaf was lying they could lose their lands, their people, and their way of life to the gods across the water. But if he was telling the truth… “Em!” an energetic voice shouted from below. The two siblings atop the cliff whipped their heads around to look. It was Pelyr, their youngest sibling. Far below, the village people were out about behind him, interested to see what was going on. They all wore brightly coloured clothes, some in dungarees, some in onesies. Pelyr, spotting Embos, called again. “Em, c’mon, the others are back!” They could lose everything. If Vaf was right, everything would just stop. Embos raised her arm, shooting him a thumbs-up. Then, turning, she began again down the cliff. Vafyr stayed behind. “Sister …” he said, and Embos turned again. “Come on.” She said, “We have much to discuss.” Law of the Diaper - Episode 1 - FOST Fost waddled across the marsh. It was a miserable day, clouds had blocked the warm sun, leaving a thick grey gloom beneath. The marsh itself didn’t help much to quell the air of dullness that hung here either. It was slimy, squishy underfoot, and stank. And that wasn’t the only thing that stank. Fost fiddled with the leak guard of his diaper, attempting to make it more comfortable around his leg. It didn't do much. The diaper was just getting too full to ignore, he’d have to find that village as quick as possible, lest a rash set in. What’s worse, is that he was beginning to feel a little full in the bladder, and he didn’t suspect the diaper could hold another heavy wetting. “Damn.” he said to himself, stepping onto a raised patch of ground that was elevated comfortably out of the mud. Mud. The evil stuff came right up his leg, threatening to cling to his onesie. Not that much further, he thought to himself, then I can have a warm bath and a change. To make the rest of the journey easier on himself, he reached for his pacifier. It was attached to his neck with some old twine. It was nice, calming, and placated him enough to continue, at least for now. Now that his mind was clearer, Fost thought back to that old woman, and the conversation they had had a few days prior. What was it she wanted again? Ah, yes, that book on Strange Dymatagy. Apparently it was a rare thing that contained many more words than it did pictures. Fost scrunched his nose at the thought -- how strange. Books with many words were by no means rare, but they were usually owned by Mommies or Daddies, not another Little like himself. Though the woman was ancient, she was definitely a Little. It could only be a thick diaper between her legs that gave her that waddle, and besides, everyone knew that Littles were the only ones who could do proper Dymatagy. What a strange woman she had been. Living alone in the middle of nowhere, reading books not meant for her eyes. Oh well, thought Fost somewhat bitterly, a job’s a job. He was beginning to run low on funds besides much else, not that he had much to begin with. Besides, the village blacksmith here was apparently quite well known, and he needed a new sword as desperately as he needed a new diaper. After this, he’d be out of money. Hopefully the old woman’s job would set him up for after all of this. Before long, he had reached the bottom of a particularly high hill that had prevented him from seeing over the horizon. Salty mud and matted clumps of grass dotted the eleven foot tall mound, made worse by the recent rains. Fost looked at the hill and sighed heavily. Then, taking a large step, he pushed himself up and onto the mound, grunting loudly. Beneath his bare feet, the mud squelched and bubbled, rising through his toes. Another step, onto the steep slope. He placed his foot down and -- sloop. He slipped in the mud, falling backwards onto his polka-dot cloak and down into the mud below, pacifier flying out his mouth. Getting slowly to his feet again, Fost surveyed himself. He had a streak of brown mud down his favourite cloak. What’s worse, his onesie was now speckled with the stuff. Great, he thought, it’s going to be one of those days. He stepped forward again, making sure to be extra careful where he stood. One step up. His toes gripped into the mud. Two steps. He pulled his weight up. Three. Sloop. He slipped back down, falling onto his hands and knees. He tried again. One step. He gripped a tuft of grass, hard. Two steps. He yanked himself up. Three -- swooppllhh. Fost hit the mud with a loud splat. “aaaaAAAAHHH!” he shouted angrily. For the third time, he found himself at the bottom of that damned mound. Why was it so hard to climb a silly little hill? He used to be a soldier! A warrior! And now he was beaten by a little mud. “This is absurd!” he said through labored, angry breaths. It was. He brought his hand to the pacifier around his neck, intending to calm himself again. It was gone. No. No. It couldn’t be gone. Anger turned to panic, as he pressed his hand against his chest, hoping, desperately hoping, that it was just down his onesie. When he couldn’t find it there, he dived into the mud. It had to be here. It had to be here. Fost splashed and flailed in the muck, splattering the thick mess everywhere. He scooped through thick lumps of it, diving deep into the thick ooze to try and retrieve the pacifier. But he couldn’t find it. Panic turned to fear. His heart beat wildly in his chest, and his eyes felt heavy, watery. It was getting hard to see. On the very edge of tears, Fost just stood there, unable to move, unable to think. What would happen if he lost it? That one reminder? No. No. Fost was on the edge of storm, a raging tornado in his chest. He closed his eyes, feeling the tempest gather within him. It was energy. It was power. Without a thought for the consequences, he dived into the eye of the storm, summoning it to his will. The rage and the panic and the fear swirled around him, and when he opened his eyes again, a bright white glow consumed them all. He clapped his hands to the sky, feeling the energy inside him burst out and cascade across the air. Ignoring the resulting cramp in his stomach, Fost opened his hands as if pushing a great force outwards. As he commanded so the mud obeyed, and like a great gust of wind, a circle of force was drawn around Fost, clearing the mud. The pacifier, blue and starry, lay on the ground, helpless against the mud that had consumed it. Fost smiled when he saw it. It was safe now. He bent down, delicately picking it up. The twine had snapped. Of course it had. No longer raging, the storm died down, and without thinking, Fost dropped his area of force. His face strained for a moment, and the cramp in his abdomen grew. Automatically, he pushed, and a thick mass of his own mud entered his already full diaper. He sighed deeply, content. Now that nothing was holding it back, the mud that surrounded him swept back to fill the emptiness, and within a moment, he was standing in it again. It was okay. It was okay. The pacifier was nestled between Fost’s cupped palms, sitting against the warmth of his skin. One hand closed tightly, ever so tightly, around the pacifier, and he used his other to swing his travel-sack off from beneath his cloak. It was small, only containing some food, some coin and a couple of books, but all had escaped the mud. With grace only seen in a parent caring for a child, he placed the pacifier into the bag, safe with the last of his money. Then, swinging his bag on his back again, he looked back to the slope... ...And refused to climb again. He quickly found a small stone and picked it up. With all his might, with all his effort, he imagined throwing the stone as far as he could, as hard as he could, over the hill. Then, closing his eyes, he dropped the stone. The storm of potential blew inside him again. It was much less this time, more of a strong gust of wind really. But it was enough, and with one great push, he leapt over the hill in a single bound. Well, just over half the hill. He only just passed the summit, before hitting mud, and falling on his bottom with a splat. Underneath him, the poopy diaper squished and pushed a little of his mess out of its confines. He felt the damp of fresh pee as he had another accident, a consequence of the magic. He slid down the other side of the hill, and landed at the bottom with a small splat, feet first. Fost was breathing heavily again. Even using basic Dymatagy usually took a lot out of him. He was muddy, tired, and now in dire need of a change. But, looking up, he saw what he had come for. Perched on a small island in the middle of this gods-forsaken flat, was a little village. Smoke puffed gently from a couple of chimneys, and small wattle and daub cottages stood proudly above the mud. So, brushing off as much of it as he could, he waddled towards the small settlement, trying to ignore his very full pants, and the pee dribbling down his leg. LARIA “Do you think they’ll be back?” Laria asked. She was sat on a porcelain potty, pull-up at her feet. The blacksmith wasn’t that busy at the moment, it rarely was these days. Her business partner, Krisp, slouched behind the wooden counter, where normally the bearded man stood proud. He had just been staring aimlessly at the door for about ten minutes now and, if she was honest, Laria was starting to get a little bit worried. “K?” she asked the man, stretching her head round. He didn’t answer. “Krisp!” she said loudly, and the man jumped slightly. “Sorry,” he said in that deep baritone of his. It always calmed her to hear his voice, it sounded like waves crashing along the beach. The man, normally red-faced, had somehow managed to go an even deeper shade of scarlet, “I’m fine, I was just--” “Dude, it’s fine.” Laria said, sighing, “I know what you were thinking.” There was a moment of reflective silence between them. The shop was always empty. Except for them. Laria almost thought Krisp would fade back into his daydream, but before long he spoke up again. “You making progress?” he asked, looking over to where Laria was perched on the potty, just next to the counter. “No, false alarm I think.” she said. “You’ll get the hang of it. Should have seen me trying a few years back, it was a nightmare. Pee went everywhere.” Krisp said, clearly trying to make Laria laugh. It didn’t really work. She looked down longingly. All this was so hard. Although most people on the Dullen Isles wore pull-ups well into their second decade, they were expected to be fully potty-trained within ten or so years of coming of age at 20. Most were trained years before that. At 28, Laria was starting to get worried. All her friends in Trully, her village, were completely out of their pull-ups. Although, Mossa, from down the road, still wore them for the occasional accident. Laria on the other hand, still used the underwear as her primary method of going to the toilet. To make matters worse, she had to admit that she actually enjoyed doing it sometimes. Not only were they convenient during long days at the forge, where one hardly had the time for potty breaks, but it also felt good to let loose where you stood, to feel the warmth growing around the pseudo-diaper. In Luin, the southern kingdom that ruled over Dullen, they used their diapers without a care in the world. People around here weren't usually friendly to southern visitors, but Laria found herself remarkably jealous of them instead. Although there were new, mandatory changing spaces in every shop, just as there was a potty, Laria would always be treated with an air of suspicion if she took up that lifestyle. Even more since Dullen was now a vassal of the more powerful kingdom, and resentment was skyrocketing. Mind you, they’d always be better than those barbarian pants-wetters in the West -- people who soiled their pants with no protection, no discretion. No matter what, Luin and Dullen would always unite against their wrath, even as reluctant allies. Eventually, Laria gave up trying to go pee in the potty, resigned to the fact that she would probably end up messing her pull-up later anyway. She raised herself off the potty, grabbed her pull-up and tugged on her trousers over the top. The potty, as always, stayed where it was beside the counter, in case a visitor needed it. Then, she moved to the back of the shop to where the fun stuff happened. The forge. “You didn’t answer my question.” Laria said to Krisp as she left him at the counter. The smithy itself was quite bare on the inside, with a few cabinets scattered about the front room displaying swords, knives, and other sharp objects. The bigger ones -- halberds and the like -- sat comfortably on the wall. Behind the counter was a door that led to the smithy itself, where most of the work was done. “I didn’t hear your question.” Krisp answered loudly, shouting across the smithy floor. “Liar!” she shouted amusedly back, moving into the smithy proper. “I don’t know what you mean!” Krisp said. Laria smiled, hearing the grin in his voice. Thick wafts of woodchip smoke from the fire, and a perpetual heat, hit Laria as she entered the forge. The back of the shop was much larger, messier and all around a much more interesting place to work. Beside a small wooden stool, a few swords were lined up, ready for polishing and then, hopefully, sale. Laria liked it back here. She liked the energy of the place, heated by the fire, always crackling; she enjoyed creating, crafting, and making something from something else; and she loved the feeling it gave her while doing it, almost like she was a sorcerer, doing magical things that no one else could. In a way, that was true. That’s what made potty breaks even more gruelling. The damned thing tore her away from her work, her beautiful work. It was the same feeling of uselessness she felt while on the counter, just waiting for customers that didn’t exist. So, Laria sat down on the small wooden bench, her pull-up padding her bottom on the hard wood, and got to work. While she rubbed oil along the slender blade of a newly forged longsword, she looked towards the door. Boy, Krisp really doesn’t want to answer that question she thought, smiling to herself. “Krisp, are you going to answer or not?” “Do you really want an answer?” he asked. It was a tough topic to talk about in his defence, but they needed to be prepared, and this was the beginning of that laborious process. “Yes, I want your opinion. Do you really think they’ll be back?” Although Laria was looking at the sword, careful of where her hands were, she was sure to keep her ears towards the door. It would be nice to just focus on the sword, but she knew she couldn’t until the question was answered. She was beginning to feel a little full ‘down there’ again as well, now that her pee-fright had gone. But before Laria could put much thought into it, Krisp spoke up again. “Honestly ... yes.” he said sullenly “I think they’ll--” He switched his voice abruptly, the slightly worn baritone sparking into a lighter greeting. “Welcome! How can I…” Krisps greeting petered out, and all Laria could hear were mumbles from the door. A customer! Finally, something was going up in this godsforsaken town. She went back to her work, only to be called out again a few moments later. “L, grab that Caerson arming sword we made a few months back.” Laria frowned and got reluctantly up. She moved towards a rack where she and Krisp kept the finished weapons, and grabbed the small arming sword. Then, she carefully made her way out front, to see what all of this was about. They never got visitors, especially ones asking for something so expensive. If she was to be distracted from her work, at least it was for a sale. The customer stood on the opposite side of the counter, chatting idly to Krisp as they waited. He was a young man, dwarfed by gargantuan Krisp, but taller than Laria. He leant on the counter, messy blonde hair straggled across his face. It was curly, unruly stuff, splattered with mud. In fact, now that Laria looked, the man was covered head to toe in the stuff. Clearly a Little from the onesie and multicoloured polka-dot cloak, the man looked rather unhappy in his current state. “Here you go sir.” she said, passing the sword to the man. He took it, looking somewhat unsure, and then looked it up and down. Only as she stood there for a moment, watching the customer, did Laria notice the smell. It was that all too familiar stench of a messy diaper, a very messy diaper. Now she looked, the loaded thing bulked between his legs, forcing them slightly apart. Although it was probably rude to stare, Laria couldn’t take her eyes off the thing. What does it feel like? To have so much weight down there? In fact, she only stopped staring when Krisp nudged her, and she snapped sharply out of her daydream. Rather luckily, the customer was still inspecting the sword. It was quite funny watching him. The poor fellow clearly didn’t know what he was looking for, either that or he was distracted. Maybe it was the diaper… “My partner here can give you a run-down if you’d like a good sir?” Krisp said, putting the man out of his misery. “Yes,” the customer answered, sounding relieved, “That would be great.” and he handed the sword to Laria. As she smiled, taking the blade from the customer, she couldn’t help notice that her bladder seemed considerably fuller than it had before. Oh well, can’t stop now, she thought, besides, I’ll probably just freeze back up if I try the potty again. Laria balanced the sword on the tips of her fingers, showing the customer where the blade’s centre of gravity was. She looked towards the man, who proceeded to nod gently. Then, moving with the grace of the wind, she threw the sword in the air, and caught it by the hilt. Krisp chuckled, seeing the customer waddle back slightly in surprise. She swung the sword around a little, getting a feel for it. “Arming swords are usually side-arms.” she said, slicing through the air. This felt good, a blade in her arms. It had been so long since they’d had any customers, she’d almost forgotten how freeing it felt to wield a sword rather than craft one. I’ll have to take this up again! “Did you want one this size?” she said calmly, hiding the energy, the potential, deep inside her chest. “Yes. Something easy to travel with, light and agile. I... I used to have a similar weapon in the army.” the customer said, the last bit subdued somewhat. He glanced to the ground as he said it. Was he ashamed? Embarrassed? Surely he should know how to wield a sword if that were the case? Laria thought it best not to press him. She stopped her routine, and gently handed back the sword. He took it. “This should suit your needs quite well then.” said Laria. She glanced down at the man’s full diaper for a moment, but when she raised her eyes, she caught the customer’s gaze. His pale skin went suddenly red. It was almost as if he hadn’t even realised his diaper was that full until now, and was suddenly self-conscious. How couldn’t you realise when you’d messed yourself? Laria thought back to all the times she’d had an accident, and the bulge that stuck out of her pants. She remembered the earthy smell, the way it forced you to waddle along. Were Littles that oblivious? Krisp interrupted her train of thought, as per. “Is there anything else we can do for you?” he asked. For a moment, Laria didn’t know if it were possible for the man to blush more, but somehow he managed. “You … errr… you don’t know where I could change around here? I have my own supplies...” Krisp giggled slightly, but thankfully it seemed the man had gone as red as he could go. Now it was Laria’s turn to interrupt Krisp. “Yes, of course. This way Sir …” “Fost. Just, Fost.” “Okay Master Fost, this way please.” and she led him to the changing room out the back. FOST “Just back here.” the woman who ran the blacksmiths said. Fost waddled behind her as best he could, trying not to leak over their floor. Although he could handle the odd wet, or even messy, diaper, it had been two days now. He needed this so badly. It was clammy around his legs, the mess was dry and peeling, clinging to his skin like a crustacean. He followed the woman through the back of the shop and into the forge. A hazy fog of fire-smoke floated through the air ahead. “Through there,” the woman said, pointing at a door to Fost’s side. “Just go ahead and get started.” the woman continued, walking toward the forge’s fire, “I’ll just heat some water for you.” She didn’t bring her head up as she spoke, focusing intently on the fire and water instead. Fost nodded, though the woman didn’t see, and waddled into the small side-room. It was pretty standard as far as changing rooms went, though compared to the rest of the shop, it looked relatively new. The wooden walls were cleaner than the rest of the smithy, and a newly clay-tiled floor lay comfortably under a wooden table. It was the length of a man, and a leather cushion lay at the other end. It all looked barely used. Climbing onto the table was a little bit of a struggle. Fost didn’t particularly want to leak, these people were doing him a courtesy after all, and getting excrement everywhere would be extremely disrespectful. That was perhaps the one thing this strange place and his own homeland had in common -- it was always, always, impolite to make a mess when making messies. Of course it happened occasionally, accidentally. But only those barbarians in the south would be so disgusting as to do so deliberately. When Fost managed to get onto the table, he lay down, getting comfortable. Then, with practiced hands, he unbuttoned his onesie, and tore off the tapes of his diaper, which now rested on his upper waist. Presently, the woman entered with the water. Steam drifted off the surface, gently curling and swaying in the light breeze of the closing door. The woman placed the bowl down onto the tiles below, along with some small towels she carried. She drew another bucket out from under the table, and placed it at her feet. Then suddenly, she wrinkled her nose, apparently hit by the stinky onslaught of smells for the first time, especially now that the Diaper was open. Fost felt his face go hot, flushing. “I’m so sorry Miss.” he said out of sheer embarrassment. Normally in Luin, whenever changes happened, it wasn’t seen as a big deal. Everyone was used to it, and it was even enjoyable. Mommies and Daddies made their Little feel at ease, treating it, rightly so, as something that was perfectly natural. Clearly, here in the Dullen Isles, people weren’t so used to hiding their reactions. The woman seemed to blush a little as well. “It’s fine Sir … sorry I forgot your name.” “Fost.” he said, thankful for the change of subject. He relaxed a little at that. “I’m Laria,” the woman said. Laria. She was slightly shorter than Fost, though the height of the table seemed almost perfect for her. Dark skin glistening with the sweat of the forge, Laria wiped her forehead. She moved her already rolled sleeves up her arm a little, and bent down to soak one of the rags in the warm water. Then, she got back up, brushed some of her black, curling hair out of the way, and opened the front of the diaper. Even by Little standards, Fost had to admit it was horrid. In fact, he was surprised he hadn’t had a blowout, especially considering the dirty thing had been leaking for a good hour now. Lara scrunched up her nose again, and this time even Fost was forced to follow suit. “I am so sorry.” he said, his ears, cheeks, and neck burning in shame. “No no!” Laria said, somewhat less calmly than he was hoping to hear, “It happens to everyone.” Not around here though, thought Fost shamefully. She began to wipe him down, taking the wet cloth and squeezing the dirty water into the empty bucket. It felt amazing. After all he had been through over the past few days, to have the icky mess finally coming off him was utterly blissful. He felt light down there, clean, and fresh. He felt like the steam rising from hot water. He felt like the cool currents of the ocean. He felt like a gust of wind in the sky. Fost enjoyed this transcendent experience for a few moments, enjoying the peace, enjoying the silence. He looked to Laria, she was completely consumed in the work, focused and stone-eyed. It was an admirable trait, the likes of which Fost hadn’t seen in a very long time. Although she looked a little uncomfortable, maybe even slightly distracted at times, she continued working diligently. Only for a moment did she break her glance -- catching Fost in the act of looking, then swiftly returning to her task. Fost looked down quickly, not keen to make an awkward situation of it. “So,” Laria said eventually, still intent on her work, “What brings you so far north?” She said it almost absent-mindedly, but there was a quiet chorus of intrigue that rose from behind. Should he tell the truth? Should he say why he was here? He couldn’t see it causing much harm. It was just a book after-all. Besides, he concluded, maybe she can help. “Oh, I’m looking for a book.” said Fost, trying not to make a big deal out of it. “For a client down south.” “Oh Really? What does it look like? Maybe I can point you the right way.” Laria asked. Fost took a moment to answer. Not because he didn’t want to tell her, but rather because he didn’t know what to tell her. He couldn’t recall the woman mentioning what it looked like, other than it’s contents and… “It has a symbol on the front, I think. A sword on a shield, engraved into the cover.” he said, satisfied at the little victory over his memory. Laria, who was in the middle of her final wipes, stopped suddenly. She seemed to squint slightly, as if trying to remember something. Then, shaking her head, she went back to work. “Sorry, I can’t remember seeing anything like that.” she said. Eventually, she finished cleaning Fost down, his sparkly clean bare bottom on the cold table. Laria shuffled through Fost’s bag and found a clean diaper from the stash he left Bermont with, they were well stocked in the Capital. “Okay, bottom up.” Laria said, hoisting Fost’s legs upwards and laying out the white padding underneath. Fost noticed something different about her now. Whilst she was still focused on the task at hand, it was becoming clearer and clearer that she was struggling to maintain composure. The blacksmith was starting to wiggle a little, moving from side to side, almost as if… “You okay?” Fost asked as Laria did the tapes of his diaper up. “Yeah, I’m … I’m fine.” she said unconvincingly. Fost had seen that struggle before. It was common in these parts, where people weren’t so relaxed about just going in their diaper -- Laria was doing a pee-pee dance. “If you need to go, you should just go.” he said, as calmly as possible. “You do wear some sort of protection around here don’t you?” Laria looked up, seeming somewhat startled. Then, she nodded quickly. “Well I - ahhh - I should really be going in the potty.” She was really moving now that she didn’t have to hide it, blushing slightly as she gave into the full pee-pee dance. With a hand pressed between her legs, Laria wiggled up and down, stepping quickly from foot to foot. She was starting to go even redder too, though Fost didn’t know if it was from the strain or embarrassment. He should do something. Help somehow. “Would you like me to go and get the potty for y-” “No!” She almost shouted, before Fost could finish asking. “No, it’s … it’s fine…” Laria’s struggle seemed to hit a limit, and suddenly she stopped. “It’s fine, ahhhhhh.” as she spoke, her legs seemed to go weak, and a relieved smile crept onto her face. Fost couldn’t help but smile amusedly as well. She lent slightly forward, breathing heavily, for about two minutes, completely in her own world. Silence filled the room, so much so that Fost could hear the gentle trickle of a quickly filling pull-up. “You … err … you done?” he asked. Laria, clearly remembering she wasn’t alone, snapped her head up and shot up straight. “Heh, erm, sorry about that.” she said, blushing slightly. Fost had to suppress a giggle. It was strange to hear someone apologise for something that happened all the time in the south. “It’s fine, I’m used to it.” he said. Laria looked down to inspect the damage, and her long hair fell in front of her face. “Would you like a change or…?” Fost trailed off, watching Laria to see what she’d say. “Um…” “Oh, sorry, is that not … do you not do that here? In the south we generally swap and stuff but --” Fost spoke quickly, muttering that last bit. Laria interjected before he had a chance to finish. “No, we … we do that here too, for those of us who are still… y’know.” she said. “Oh, cool … that wasn’t … I’m sorry if it was out of line …” “Not at all!” she said, moving her head quickly up, and stepping forward slightly. “It’s fine, I would have asked the same thing.” “Okay, sorry if I …” “No, you don’t need to say sorry …” “Did you … did you errr … you still want me too-” “Yes!” she said quickly, a smile flickering on her face, “Errr, yes … yes please.” Fost’s face was scorching with embarrassment, and it was clear Laria was as well. Fost jumped down and went to find the supplies that Laria kept around, while she jumped onto the table. Then, soaking some clean rags, Fost got to work. Changing a pull-up was much the same as changing a diaper, though the garment was considerably less bulky. Laria had completely soaked through hers, and Fost was, for the second time today, surprised no-one leaked. “Y’know,” he said, taking the heavy pull-up and placing it beside the waste bucket, “You’d make a good Little with how much you soaked this thing.” “And you’d make a good Islander with that quick potty suggestion earlier!” Laria said, eliciting an embarrassed chuckle from Fost. Now that things were a little more comfortable, Laria seemed to open up a bit, and as Fost wiped her down, they talked a little about weapons. “You won’t find many larger ones around here,” Laria said, “They’re bought up quickly and used for war. At steep discounts too…” “I guessed as much, that’s the way things have always been in Luin. Always at war, always ‘acquiring’ weapons. Most non-army folk don’t get a word in.” “Yeah. Although, if you don’t mind me asking, you’re only looking for a book. Why do you need a sword?” Laria asked as Fost did the tapes of her pull-up. “Better safe than sorry, right? Bandits and all sorts on the road.” “Not around here. That’s one of the few good bits about --” DONG. DONG. DONG. A large bell rang through the village outside. Laria snapped up. “Oh no.” she said, and walked out of the room without bothering to put on her pants. Fost watched her go, slightly confused for a moment, and then decided that it would be best to follow her. What in the name of the gods is happening now? He cursed silently. Outside, people were gathering around a bell that stood in the middle of the village. Like Laria, a few of the younger folk were out here with their pull-ups on full show. Fost started to worry a little. This couldn’t be good whatever it was, and he was in a foreign town with foreign people. All around, people in the crowd glared at him. He pushed through the crowd and eventually found Laria, standing at the front. “Laria,” he asked, “what’s going on?” but he didn’t have to wait for an answer. Opposite the small crowd was a group of soldiers on horseback. Like Fost, they all wore bright cloaks, onesies, and each had a distinct diaper-bulge. There were at least thirty of them at the back, all wearing similar clothes to Fost, though with added armour plates here-and-there. Three of the newcomers stood proud and tall at the front. The one in the centre sucked on a pacifier haughtily, looking so utterly regal that he probably thought he shat gold. On his right was a woman, thin faced, and paler than ice. On his left was a man, hooded -- a cloak of deep twilight-blue. Fost felt something strange, like the gears of possibility shifted within him. But then something else caught his eye. Strapped to the hooded man’s waist was a book. A book with a shield and sword engraved on the front. END OF EPISODE 1
  23. I was waiting on my latest diaper delivery. The driver was 10 stops before me. Thats fine I will be able to hold it until he’s been. The cramps started to become unbearable as I kept refreshing the delivery tracker. 8 stops before me. There was no way I would be able to hold it for much longer. I was literally pacing myself up and down the house before I had to just bite the bullet and give in. I stood still and gave a slight push. My leg began to shudder as a big log began to slide out like a warm friendly snake. There was no going back now. The diaper expanded out to its maximum and the back of my jeans felt very tight. I had to push hard for the remainder. Once I was done I gave out a huge sigh of relief. I then began feeling rather anxious. I was in a full stinky diaper and I would need to answer the door to a delivery driver. There was no time to change so I decided to take a seat and wait. In the end it was fine I opened the door to the package being on the doorstep as he was walking away.
  24. *** disclaimer - English isn't my mother tongue I m sorry for spelling and grammar mistakes so please take that into consideration in your comments Summer vacation just started, that would be the highlight of any kids year. And it was the same for Kit till last September. But not this summer. This summer he was strapped into what could be described as a large toddler car seat , dressed as a toddler sucking on a pacifier as he watched the trees and bushes they passed by from the car window. From the outside he had the idyllic life. He had 2 loving parents, a little sister, a huge house and even a dog. He was a well behaved child with good manners who always came top of his class. Ironically this is what ended up sending him down a spiral he never even knew existed outside his safe bubble . And it didn't, not until he finished 5th grade last year and his school principle suggested to enroll him in a special school for the gifted. His parents though hesitant at first to send their child so far so young eventually convinced it will give him the best chance to get as far in life as he could. tution was no issue as both chris and Patty made good money though it did mean working long hours at their company and less with their children. Kit was excited about the new school . But things turned rather quickly . He was always a shy and sensitive child who was very much attached to his family , so separating from them was not an easy 1 to begin with . But as he soon discovered that would far not be his biggest challenge. The school had a very strict regime from when he got up went to bed what he ate. And his school mates were anything but mates. Vicious competitions were between the students to be the best to better than rest . The stress and the emotional abuse he recieved from both peers and teachers were showing their marks quickly . By Christmas vacation Chris and Patty were worried that their decision to put kit in that school may have been a mistake but as he solemnly refused to talk about anything that might be bothering him and insisting on spending his holiday studying. then 1 fatal day in May he failed 1 of his final exams . Not being able to take the stress and faulire he resorted to taking the pills he knew his roommates were hiding . After getting his stomach pumped he was transfered to a child psychiatry ward. Luckily he didn't suffer any damage from the pills the psychiatrist concluded he did suffer a major emotional crisis. Non of the therapies and interventions seemed to work . so 1 day dr Kate Dollen summed both parents to her office to suggest to them a new "therapy" - taking kit back to the last stage of his life where he truly felt happy and protected . chris and Patty looked at each other with quite a confused look as they listened to dr Dollen - I m sorry dr Dollen - Patty started unsure of how to pharse her thoughts - please call me Kate - Kate .. Isn't this a bit .. Radical ? Treat him like a toddler ...? - I know how it sounds at first but what your son needs the most right now is to feel safe and loved and no one can give him that more than you can - I think what my wife was trying to ask is this sounds a bit "abnormal" sorry for the term , to take a child his age and treat him as a toddler - well it's quite abnormal for a child his age to attempt suiicide - Kate concluded -look I have spent many hours in the past few weeks talking to kit and the conclusion I reached is that the last he felt completely happy was before his sister was born and he still had your full attention , - the room quited both Patty and Chris had quilt over not spending enough time with their kids but could that have really led up to this ? - so what you are saying is that we shouldn't have had an other child ? - Patty asked a little mortified - no of course not, but you have to understand , from that moment he became the big brother the big kid who got the role of being responsible in school and with his sister and eventually all the stress that comes with always being responsible and doing well got too much for him. - so what you are suggesting is that now he needs to be the little ..? - Chris asked as he ruffled through his hair - he needs to feel safe again - oh god - Patty cried out as she burried her face in her hands - this is all my fault - okay okay let's say we would try this "therapy" - Chris said unsure as he rubbed pattys shoulders - how exactly would this go ..? Was this kits idea ? Does he want this ..? - this is my suggestion . Not kits idea . He doesn't know actually . Chris squinted at Kate - so this wouldn't be with his consent..?
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