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Only on the Weekends A slip up finds a teacher’s weekend fantasy taking up more and more of her time. It all started off innocently enough; on the weekends Lilly would spend hours watching ddlg porn or reading age regression stories online. She promised herself it would only be on weekends but the more she read and watched, the more playful she became. What started out as her wearing just a t-shirt and panties in her home and playing with a paci turned into ordering ddlg clothing online and hiding it in her dresser. She stopped wearing thongs and started wearing fullcut cotton panties with princesses or childish patterns; Something cute she could wear under her regular clothes at work. She even bought a couple of onesies that she carefully tucked into the back of her closet. She found an online site that let her play out her fantasies even more, she would take a picture of herself in just her panties holding a stuffy over her face asking if there was a “mommy out there for a new little?”. She set up an instagram account for her “little” life and would post pictures of her sucking a paci or asking for suggestions on how to sneak more “little” into her life. She was very careful not to show who she was or get too personal with anyone that messaged her. She was a teacher after all and if she were “busted”, there wouldn’t be a second chance. Parents would think she was a deviant and her career would be over. She promised it would only be on the weekends… Chapter 1 Lilly checks her lighting and adjusts her outfit before putting on her fox mask and starting recording. At 5’1” she “looks” the part of a “little” when she’s wearing her pink onesie and thigh high socks with kittens on them. Well almost, her surprisingly full bust of a 30C throws off the look but at the same time she’s always been appreciative that her boobs make her look more “adult” when she’s out on the town. She smirks at the thought of that paradox… she looks down and sees that she already has messages from some of her followers. “Take off the mask baby, you have nothing to hide.” -AbdlLover134 “When are you going to let us see your face?” -BigDaddy But the last one really catches her eye: “When will you admit that you are just a little girl that needs a mommy to teach you how to be a good girl while at the same time have you whimpering like a puppy begging to cum?” - AgeGapMommy Lilly blushes and teasingly put a heart eyed cat emoji reaction. She then commences her planned routine of dancing around in her childish outfit and then feigns that she “forgot” to go potty and then runs away before shutting down her camera for the day. “AgeGapMommy” she thinks to herself. She’s never seen her before but her comment was pretty hot! She plops down on her bed and starts responding to comments from her post. She prides herself on being responsive to everyone that takes the time to say something. Especially now that she’s doing “live” posts. That took a lot of courage on her part since at anytime she could blow her cover and be seen. No “retakes”… She replies to AgeGapMommy with a little teasing comment and then her messenger lights up. “I told you.” “Told me what?” “That you were just a little girl that needs a Mommy.” “Maybe I do, maybe I just like teasing you.” Lilly smirks to herself. “Don’t try to turn this around, you sit there in your pretend adult clothes everyday while secretly wishing you could be the real you more.” “Why do you think that?” “I know it. See you said in your earlier posts that you only do this on the weekend, but you clearly work a Monday-Friday job.” “??” “Lol.. Because you’ve gone from posting a couple of times on Saturday and Sunday to posting Friday right around 5, sometimes earlier than that, today you are posting on Sunday night at 10pm so it’s clear that you A) Live on the east coast, and B) You *want* to be a “little” more than you get to.” Lilly closes the app and sets her phone down.. “shit…” she mutters knowing that someone has been able to call it exactly as it is. She does work a Monday-Friday job and as a teacher she is already home by 5. She lives in the city in eastern time zone too… she looks back at her phone and sees a notification. She considers ignoring the message “should I lie and say I live in Texas or something?” “Don’t worry little girl, it will be our secret.” “Actually I live in Texas.” She lies “Tsk tsk babygirl. Mommy doesn’t like a liar.” Lilly decides to push it further “I’m not lying, I live in Austin.” “Austin? I’ve been there. I love the river walk.” “Uh yeah, me too. I go there all the time.” She lies. “Really? That’s funny. Ever been to the Alamo? I’ve never been there but I hear it’s nice.” Lilly raises an eyebrow thinking that AgeGapMommy is trying to trick her.. “Um, the Alamo is in San Antonio.” “So is the riverwalk little liar.” “Shit..” Lilly mutters knowing she’s busted… How to play this off? She thinks. “Oh no! You got caught me Mommy! What ever will you do to punish me?” She giggles sending the reply. “Well for starters you will admit your lie and tell me that I was right about what I said earlier.” “You’re right, I do work a regular job and I live in eastern time.” “Good girl, that’s the first step to being better.” Lilly sends a smiling emoji. “But now there is the matter of punishment for being naughty. Would you like that? Would you like to be punished for being naughty?” Lilly is feeling a little heat between her legs.. “well this is getting kind of sexy.” She says lying back on her bed. “Yes ma’am.” “Good girl, in that case I want you to turn over into your tummy and pull your panties down over your bottom, but don’t take them off ok?” Lilly slides off the bed and bends over reaching back and unsnapping her onesie and slides her panties down just enough to expose her pert backside. “I did it.” “Good girl… Now Mommy needs to give you 10 slaps on your bottom but since I’m not there you will have to do it yourself.” “Yes ma’am.” “Mommy will need proof. You will take a picture of your bottom before and after your spanking.” “Ok… I’ll do that.” “Good girl.” Lilly quickly sets her phone up on her ring and after getting positioned takes a picture of her upturned ass. “I took a before one, do I spank myself now?” “No! You will spank yourself at my command. Now bend over and get ready for your spanking.” “Yes Mommy,” “Ok I’m ready.” “Good. Now tell me who is a bad girl.” “Me.” “Slap your right cheek hard now.” Lilly spanks her right cheek and winces. “I did it.” “Who wants to be a good girl?” “Me!” “Slap your left cheek hard twice.” Lilly smacks her left cheek twice wincing again… “Why did you lie to Mommy?” Lilly feels heat building between her legs.. “Because I was being naughty?” “That’s right. Now spank that naughty right cheek hard three times.” Lilly’s breathing increases… she reaches back and spanks her right cheek as hard as she can and bites her lower lip… “Such a naughty girl, I bet you are getting worked up at the thought of Mommy taking control of her little brat. Spank that left cheek twice and tell me I’m right.” Lilly spanks her left cheek and can feel welts from her fingers.. “I DO like it.. Oh God it’s making me hot thinking about being a brat!” “Oh I know, now spank your left and right cheek and promise me you will try to be a good girl and know you need Mommy to keep your naughty bottom in line.” Lilly slams her hand down in both cheeks with an audible yelp and responds with “I promise I’ll try really really hard to be a good girl!” pressing “send” and then quickly reaching her hand down to her heated sex for relief.. as she starts rubbing her wet vagina her phone lights up again.. she reaches for it with her free hand and then gasps at the message. “Did you forget to take me an “after” shot?” “Oh Mommy I’m sorry, I will!” She quickly takes a picture of her red cheeks. “Goodness little girl, does Mommy have to remind you of everything?” “No, I’m sorry… I was distracted.” “Oh I know you were but did Mommy tell you your punishment was over?” “No?” “That’s right. Now you will put your camera up so that Mommy can see your bottom on display while you stand in the corner for 10 minutes; don’t you dare move your panties or touch yourself, naughty girl.” “Yes ma’am.” Lilly says turning her phone stand and wiggling her way to the corner, her panties still just below her red cheeks. After five minutes that feels like an eternity she starts squeezing her thighs together pushing her cotton panties up and down on her worked up slit. She sees her screen light up but doesn’t move since she can see the clock.. As soon as the clock changes she rushes to her phone and sees another message of instructions from her “Mommy”. “Now to finish up your punishment you are to take one more picture. Mommy needs to know exactly how naughty your kitty is by taking a “live” of your panties sliding away from your slit.” Lilly blushes knowing that her panties are definitely wet “down there” but she takes the picture as expected and is shocked to see the cotton gusset stick to her vagina and there was even a little “snail trail” when it finally pulls away. “Ok, I took the last picture. Do I send them to you now?” “No silly, you need to let everyone know what a bad girl you’ve been. Post them all to your account and tell them why you got a spanking and how wet that made you.” Lilly blushes at the thought to posting pictures of her bare ass AND her wet panties… What if someone figures out who she is? “That’s stupid girl.. who would recognize you by your vagina?” She giggles before setting the post up as required. “Besides, this has been super sexy!” She says as she posts the photos and explains that her Mommy made her do it. The phone lights up immediately with notifications from her followers “Damn girl! Momma really let you have it.” “That’s a naughty bottom indeed.” “Wish that was over *my* lap!” Lilly giggles at the comment and then sees a new message: “Good girl. Now I have another little girl to play with so you go ahead and rub your little slit till you cum like you wanted to earlier. Mommy will talk to you again soon.” “Another girl?” Lilly frowns. “What the fuck?” She puts her phone on the charger with a huff but then slides her hand down her waist and quickly reaches orgasm. “Would have been a better one if she didn’t ruin it saying I’m not the only one.” She frowns and then closes her eyes for bed. She DOES have work in the morning after all..

Hi guys! I finally got a Subscribestar. All of my stories are being uploaded there, plus a lot of new content, including in-progress content like Diapered Stepmother, The Regression Act, and Like Mother Like Daughter. Check out my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Chapter One A Shameful Issue Claire Reynolds fumbled with her keys, her hands trembling as she tried to fit the right one into the lock. The sharp clink of metal echoed through the dim hallway, mocking her urgency. Her heart pounded in her chest, and a bead of sweat trickled down her temple despite the cool air. “Come on,” she hissed under her breath, bouncing slightly on her heels. When the key finally slid into place, she shoved the door open and bolted inside, her purse slipping from her shoulder and landing in a heap on the floor. She didn’t stop to pick it up. The bathroom door was just a few steps away, but those few steps felt impossibly long. Her hand gripped the doorknob when it happened. The warm, mortifying sensation began at her thighs and cascaded downward, soaking her gray slacks and forming a humiliating puddle at her feet. Claire froze, her breath hitching in her throat as she stared at the dark stain spreading down her legs. “No,” she whispered, the word catching like a sob in her chest. For a moment, she stood rooted to the spot, the scene unfolding beneath her as though it were happening to someone else. But the sharp smell of urine quickly snapped her back to reality. This wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. Shame washed over her, making her stomach churn. This was the third time this week. Claire leaned against the bathroom door, covering her face with her hands. The knot of anxiety in her chest tightened, and her thoughts spun wildly. What was happening to her? She’d already been to the doctor—no infections, no physical problems, nothing that explained why this kept happening. “Stress,” the doctor had said, his tone infuriatingly casual. “Sometimes your body reacts in unexpected ways. Try to take it easy for a while.” Take it easy? As if Claire Reynolds, Vice President of Marketing at Goldstein & Gray, had time to "take it easy." She had built her entire career by thriving under pressure, outmaneuvering competitors, and crushing challenges. Yet now, standing in a puddle of her own making, she felt utterly powerless. Claire peeled off her wet slacks and underwear, tossing them angrily into the laundry hamper before stepping into the shower. She turned the water as hot as she could stand, hoping the scalding heat might burn away the humiliation clinging to her skin. The bathroom filled with steam, but the knot in her chest remained. Wrapped in a robe, Claire sat on her couch with a glass of wine in her hand. The faint glow of the TV illuminated her face, though her eyes remained unfocused. The news anchor’s voice droned in the background, but she wasn’t paying attention. Her mind was elsewhere, replaying the moment she lost control over and over. Three times in a week. Three times. Maybe it really was stress, she thought, staring into her empty glass. Work had been relentless lately, and the weight of it all was starting to show. Claire barely had time to breathe between managing her team, placating demanding clients, and watching Samantha Drake inch closer to her throne. Samantha. The name alone made her skin prickle. She could see Samantha’s smiling face now, framed by perfectly styled blonde hair, her bright blue eyes practically sparkling with confidence. Samantha was talented, ambitious, and far too likable for Claire’s comfort. People flocked to her naturally, eager to bask in her glow. And Claire? She was the one standing outside her bathroom, soaked to the skin and trying to hold on to her dignity. Her jaw tightened as she set the empty wine glass on the table. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t some fragile mess who couldn’t keep herself together. She was the second most powerful person in the company, and Samantha was nothing but another subordinate. She just needed rest. Tomorrow would be better. It had to be. But deep down, Claire wasn’t so sure. She walked into the office the next morning with a practiced smile that felt like it might crack under the strain. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, echoing through the sleek lobby of Goldstein & Gray. She moved quickly, her steps purposeful, as though the sound alone could drown out her unease. You’ve got this, she told herself. She had spent most of the night tossing and turning, haunted by the humiliating memory of her accident. Now, as she reached her desk, she fought to bury the thought and focus on what mattered: work. Her assistant, Melissa, greeted her with a stack of files and a fresh coffee. “Morning, Ms. Reynolds. Here’s the prep for the Ross presentation at ten.” “Thank you,” Claire said curtly, taking the files without breaking stride. She slipped into her office and closed the door behind her, exhaling slowly. For the next hour, Claire buried herself in spreadsheets and client notes, trying to lose herself in the comforting predictability of data. It almost worked—until there was a knock at her door. “Come in,” she called, not looking up. The door opened, and Claire’s stomach sank when she heard the familiar, cheerful voice. “Good morning, Claire. Got a minute?” Samantha Drake. Claire glanced up, masking her irritation with a tight smile. Samantha stood in the doorway, her tailored navy dress accentuating her polished appearance. She looked every bit the up-and-coming star Claire begrudgingly acknowledged she was. “What can I do for you, Samantha?” Claire asked, keeping her tone neutral. Samantha stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “I just wanted to check in. You’ve seemed… tense lately.” Claire’s smile faltered. “Tense? I’m fine.” Samantha tilted her head, her expression sympathetic in a way that made Claire’s teeth clench. “I know how demanding this job can be. And, well…” She hesitated, feigning concern. “There have been a few murmurs around the office. About you seeming, I don’t know, a little distracted?” “Murmurs?” Claire’s voice sharpened, but Samantha’s calm demeanor didn’t waver. “Nothing major,” Samantha said quickly, holding up her hands. “It’s just that people look up to you, Claire. You’ve set the bar so high, and I think they’re worried about you burning out.” Claire forced a laugh, though it came out brittle. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m perfectly capable of handling my workload.” Samantha nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Of course you are. You’ve always been an inspiration to me.” The words sounded genuine, but Claire couldn’t shake the nagging suspicion that there was an edge beneath them. Before Claire could respond, Samantha added, “If you ever need support, though—someone to help lighten the load—I know an excellent assistant who could make things easier for you.” Claire stiffened. “I don’t need help.” “Of course not,” Samantha said smoothly. “But if you change your mind, let me know. It’s important to take care of yourself.” With that, Samantha offered a polite smile and left, leaving Claire alone in her office, simmering. The morning passed in a blur of emails and conference calls, but Samantha’s words lingered like an unwelcome guest. By the time the Ross presentation rolled around, Claire was on edge, her mind racing with a cocktail of frustration and self-doubt. She entered the boardroom, her posture as sharp as ever, and launched into the presentation with the confidence that had made her reputation. But halfway through, as she stood before the team, a sudden wave of pressure in her bladder made her pause. Not now, she thought, gripping the edge of the table. She forced herself to keep going, her voice steady even as her body betrayed her. With every passing second, the pressure grew, and by the time she wrapped up the presentation, she could barely focus on the questions. The moment it ended, she bolted from the room, ignoring the curious glances from her colleagues. She made it to the bathroom just in time, slamming the stall door shut and collapsing onto the toilet. Relief flooded through her, but it was short-lived. The near miss left her shaking, her mind spinning with worst-case scenarios. What if she hadn’t made it? What if she had humiliated herself in front of the entire team? Claire sat there for a long moment, her breathing uneven. This couldn’t keep happening. Back at her desk, Claire stared at her computer screen, her thoughts far from work. The memory of Samantha’s offer gnawed at her. As much as she hated to admit it, the idea of having help—even temporary—sounded less ridiculous than it had that morning. But no. She wouldn’t give Samantha the satisfaction. Still, Claire couldn’t shake the feeling that her grip on control was slipping, one agonizing inch at a time. Chapter Two Enter Linda By the time Claire got home that evening, she was exhausted. The day had been grueling, and the close call during the presentation lingered in her mind like a bad dream. She dropped her keys on the kitchen counter, poured herself a glass of wine, and sank into the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. This couldn’t go on. The memory of Samantha’s offer crept back into her thoughts. Claire clenched her jaw. Asking for help from someone Samantha recommended felt like admitting defeat, but she couldn’t keep living with the constant fear of humiliation. Before she could overthink it, she pulled out her phone and dialed Samantha’s number. “Samantha Drake,” came the cheerful voice on the other end. “It’s Claire,” she said, her tone clipped. “About that assistant you mentioned. Do you have their contact information?” Samantha’s response came almost too quickly. “Of course! Her name is Linda. She’s young, but she’s a natural at organization and discretion. I’ll text you her number.” “Thanks,” Claire said tersely and hung up before Samantha could gloat. The next day, Linda promptly arrived at Claire’s apartment at 9 a.m. Claire opened the door to find a young woman with auburn hair tied in a neat ponytail, bright hazel eyes, and a sunny smile that seemed almost too earnest. Claire thought with a twinge of skepticism that she couldn’t have been older than nineteen. “Hi, Ms. Reynolds! I’m Linda. It’s such an honor to meet you,” she chirped, extending a hand. Claire hesitated before shaking it. “You’re… younger than I expected,” she said bluntly. Linda didn’t miss a beat. “People say that all the time. But I promise, I’m great at what I do. I’ve worked with other executives before, and I’m here to make your life easier.” Claire stepped aside, motioning for Linda to come in. The girl walked in with an eager bounce, her backpack slung over one shoulder. Claire watched her carefully, trying to gauge whether this was a good idea. “So,” Claire said, folding her arms. “Tell me what you can do.” Linda enthusiastically listed her skills: scheduling, task management, meal prepping, and errand running. She even mentioned a knack for helping with “personal matters,” though Claire dismissed that with a wave. After twenty minutes, Claire sighed. Although Linda was extremely young, on paper, she was a perfect solution to her stress. “Fine. Let’s try this out. I’ll give you a week to prove yourself. If I don’t see results, that’s it. Understood?” Linda beamed. “You won’t regret it, Ms. Reynolds!” The first few days were surprisingly smooth. Linda was efficient and unflinchingly polite, handling Claire’s demanding schedule with ease. She organized Claire’s cluttered desk, prepared meals that were waiting when Claire got home, and even started leaving subtle reminders for things Claire might have forgotten. On Linda’s fourth day, she was tidying up Claire’s kitchen when Claire rushed through the door, pale and frazzled. “Out of the way,” Claire muttered, bolting toward the bathroom. Linda watched in surprise as Claire slammed the door behind her. Minutes later, Claire emerged, her face flushed. She was clutching a damp skirt and muttering under her breath. “Everything okay?” Linda asked cautiously. “It’s all fine,” Claire snapped, avoiding Linda’s gaze. Linda didn’t push, but Claire caught the flicker of understanding in her assistant’s eyes. Two nights later, Claire woke up in her wet pajamas. The dark stain on her sheets sent a wave of panic and frustration crashing over her. She began stripping the bed, her hands trembling as she stuffed the soiled sheets into the hamper. She didn’t hear the knock at first. “Ms. Reynolds?” Linda’s voice broke through, hesitant but concerned. Claire froze. Before she could respond, the door creaked open. Linda stepped inside, her eyes widening at the scene: Claire standing in the middle of the room, tear-streaked and clutching damp sheets, her wet pajama bottoms an unmistakable clue. “Oh,” Linda said softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.” Claire turned away, her face burning with humiliation. “Just go,” she said sharply. Instead of leaving, Linda stepped closer. “Ms. Reynolds,” she said gently, “it’s okay. Let me help.” “No, it’s not okay!” Claire’s voice cracked. “This isn’t normal! I’m almost a middle-aged woman, I shouldn’t be wetting myself.” Linda stayed calm, her tone soothing. “Stress can do strange things to the body. You’re dealing with so much right now. It’s not your fault.” Claire sank onto the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands. Linda knelt beside her. “Why don’t you change into something dry? I’ll take care of this.” Too exhausted to argue, Claire nodded. The final straw came two days later. Claire had stayed late at work, trying to finish a report, when the now-familiar pressure hit her. She’d been so focused she hadn’t noticed until it was too late. How could this be happening to her? She was a strong, independent woman with a successful career and a bright future. She wasn’t supposed to wet herself like some oversized toddler who wasn’t potty trained yet. In desperation, she rushed back home. When she got to her apartment, she ran past Linda, although her pants were visibly damp. Linda saw it immediately, but said nothing, quietly following Claire. Linda approached her. “Ms. Reynolds, I think we need to talk.” Claire stiffened. “About what?” Linda hesitated. “I noticed… things have been getting harder for you lately. Maybe it’s time to consider something to help.” Claire’s eyes narrowed, though in her current state, she looked more like a little girl pretending to be an adult than the girl-boss she truly was. “Help? Like what?” Linda’s voice was gentle but firm. “Protective undergarments. Just at night or for when you’re working late. It could give you peace of mind.” Claire stared at her, the words hitting her like a blow. “You’re suggesting diapers.” “I’m suggesting something to make your life easier,” Linda said softly. “There’s no shame in it.” Claire shook her head, her pride flaring. “Absolutely not.” “Claire,” Linda said, dropping the formalities, her tone softening but not wavering. “You’ve had three accidents that I know of this week. The one on the way home from work tonight, the one in bed two nights ago, and the one outside the bathroom earlier this week. And this isn’t something new. Is it?” Claire blushed, not knowing how to answer. “Have you gone to the doctor?” Claire nodded, though all her strength had wavered, replaced by a feeling of impotence and shame. “So, what happened?” “The doctor thinks it is just stress. But I’ve always had stress, and it had never led to something like this,” Claire replied, tears falling down her cheeks. “I’m not wearing diapers!” Linda didn’t flinch. “You hired me to make your life easier, didn’t you? That’s all I’m trying to do.” Claire shook her head, her voice trembling with fury. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m not some invalid, Linda. I don’t need diapers!” “It doesn’t look like it. Does it?” “I’ll fix it,” Claire said through gritted teeth. “I’ll go back to the doctor. I’ll drink less coffee. I’ll… I’ll figure it out.” “It’s your decision,” Linda continued, “But just think about this…If it happens at work, what do you think will happen? You have a reputation as a strong and powerful woman. Do you think your employees will respect you after they see you standing in your wet trousers and crying like a baby?” Claire didn’t respond. It killed her knowing that Linda was right. If she ignored the problem, it could only lead to public humiliation. But diapers? She wasn’t a baby. She was an adult woman with so many responsibilities. An image of her wearing a diaper as Linda took care of everything came flooding her mind. It made Claire blush as she shook that thought away. “Just think about it,” Linda added. She turned away, leaving Claire alone in her wet pants. That night, Claire lay in bed, her mind racing. She replayed Linda’s words over and over, each one striking a nerve. The worst part was that Linda was right. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hi guys, here's one of my latest stories. You can read it now on Amazon Kindle Wife's New Boyfriend Is My New Daddy: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DSR2VKVB or check my Subscribestar: https://subscribestar.adult/thelittlewriter/collections Claire's Regression: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DS2S4FXW You can also read Daisy's Perfect Summer: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DLVJYHH5 Here's a link to The Diary of a Diapered Cuckold: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0DPFLGMNJ

Hi everyone please find the story below! Potty Time The start of my fall from grace begun under the Autumn school holiday on a trip to a park, on the mini bus was me, Leah and her twin friends, a group of younger boys from a different school but attended the club after school and the girls Charlotte and Sarah with Sarah’s mum who absolutely hated me Diane who worked for the club as a child minder. On the bus ride there I began to feel queasy and I just assumed car sickness after shame facedly trying to let out a few silently breaking wind resulting in the usual childhood game of trying to guess who did the crime before we arrived at the park. However after an hour of being there my windy problem had not passed in fact it had gotten worse! I really needed to relieve myself very badly and there was no way I could hold it for long, let along until we arrived back at the club. I tried to discreetly walk into the public toilet but to my despair it was locked. Faced with the thought of going in my pants I had to seek assistance sadly that Diane. Red faced I gingerly walked over to my worst enemy “Diane…I need help.” Diane looked at me and coldly asked “what”, I replied, “I really need the loo” “can’t you go in the bushes?” there was a few seconds pause before I looked down and admitted “Its not what I can go in the trees for” “can you hold on an hour or two?” “no..” I whined, she looked and checked the toilet door then looked thoughtful for a minute she eventually said “ meet me over by the minibus.” I waddled over and saw her and her daughter standing by the bus she told Sarah to go play on the swing and reassured her she would be there soon, looking at me she told me to get in the minibus, inside on floor in the middle of the minibus was a large red lady bird patterned child’s potty and a pack of baby wipes! To say I was mortified is an understatement, seeing the look on my face Diane curtly informed me this was my only option or going in a bush; I was crimson. We both knew I had no choice at this stage as at that moment I farted once again, seeing the defeat written across my face she said she would give me some privacy and went outside the bus closing the door. I slowly lower my tracksuit bottoms and boxer down to my ankles and sat my humiliated bottom down on the cold hard plastic. After a shocked moment of being frozen with shame and the cold feel of the plastic I began to try and relax and a few seconds later I peed a little then I nosily began to do my business! It was awful I must have had a stomach bug and due to the lack of water in the potty the whole bus stank so bad after a minute or two I reached for the baby wipes I stood up and began the humiliating job of wiping my bottom however after a second I needed to take my shameful seat again. After a minute the minibus sliding door opened and there was Diane and her daughter! I was sat there mid poo and Sarah let out a loud burst of laughter and I burst into tears, Diane was at least professional enough to send her daughter away however that didn’t change the fact she had seen my naked on the potty. She said when she noticed I stood up she thought I was ready for her to let me out. This time she stayed inside and made sure I “cleaned my botty”. She finally took out the almost full smelly potty covered with my wipes into the bushes then came back and placed it in a bag in the minibus, this however did nothing to clear the smell. By the time the other kids returned to the minibus Sarah had managed to tell as many people about what she saw as she could and within five minutes of the journey back to the club were all holding their noses, making farting noses at me and subjecting me merciless teasing which Diane pretended not to notice. For the rest of that holiday I was a subdued lamb and a laughing stock especially by my sister and her friends but I somehow lived this time for a time but I would not be so lucky again.

I've started a new story series featuring Reilly. The 18-year-old recently graduated high school and is desperate to stop bedwetting before he starts college in the fall. The return to bedtime diapers, however, leads to unexpected and rapid regression in Reilly's potty training and behavior. Good thing his family is so loving and understanding and hires the perfect babysitter to get him through what's hopefully just a phase. You can get early access to new chapters through my SubscribeStar site (https://subscribestar.adult/alexbridges). I'll be posting chapters here after they've been up on my site for a while. Enjoy, and remember comments/feedback motivate me to write more! Ch. 1 – Introducing Reilly The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows of the spacious living room, casting a soft, golden glow over the family seated in a semi-circle. It was a calm, quiet afternoon, but the weight of the conversation about to happen filled the air. In the center of it all sat Reilly, his nerves on full display, his legs bouncing as he sat in a chair slightly separated from the rest of the group. Miriam, Reilly's mom, and Michael, his dad, sat opposite him on the sofa, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. Julie and Matt, Reilly’s older siblings, sat on the couch nearby, exchanging quiet glances. Mom broke the silence, her tone gentle but firm, as she always tried to be with Reilly. “Thanks, everyone, for making some time for a family meeting. You know we don’t have these unless it’s important, and I wanted Julie and Matt to hear this at the same time.” She turned to Reilly, and putting all of her love and concern into her words, say, “Reilly, sweetheart, we’ve noticed you’ve been struggling a lot lately, especially with college just around the corner. We think it’s time we make some changes to help you feel more secure.” Reilly looked down at his hands, anxiety building in his chest. He’d known this conversation was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier. He swallowed hard before speaking, his voice quiet. “What kind of changes?” Dad leaned forward slightly, his voice calm but direct. “We want to help you manage your bedwetting, your accidents, and some of the behavior we’ve seen lately. It’s been tough for you, and we think we need a more structured approach.” Reilly’s head snapped up, already defensive. “I’m doing fine,” he insisted, though the doubt in his voice betrayed him. He could already feel where this was going. Mom exchanged a glance with Dad before continuing. “Reilly, three months ago, you came to me, asking for help with your bedwetting. You were worried about starting college in the fall and didn’t want your roommate to find out. You had the idea that being punished might help you stop.” Reilly’s cheeks flushed at the memory of that embarrassing conversation. That he even spoke about his bedwetting to his mom – it was an open secret they never discussed, his parents letting Reilly deal with it on his own – betrayed how desperate he was to dry up before college. He squirmed in his seat, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. “I just thought maybe if there were consequences… maybe I’d stop,” he muttered. “Ya know, like conditioning. Like, if I associated bedwetting with being punished, it would help me stop.” Mom nodded, her voice full of understanding. “I know, honey. And we agreed to try it. But remember, I said you’d have to switch from pull-ups to proper diapers at night. The pull-ups weren’t enough; they leaked too often.” Dad jumped in. “We started the routine you asked for—diapers at night and a spanking in the morning if you wet the bed. At first, you did well with it. You took the spankings without too much trouble. We asked you every morning if you wanted to keep trying it, and you said yes. Your mom and I, we didn’t quite know what to think, but we love you and you asked us for help, so we kept up the … let’s call it your routine.” Julie, always the compassionate older sister, leaned forward. She knew this part of the story. “But then, Mom found out you were still trying to wear pull-ups, right? You were sneaking them on at night instead of using the diapers.” Reilly’s face turned redder. “I didn’t want to wear the diapers. They’re… babyish,” he admitted, almost whispering the last word. He hated how small the diapers made him feel, even more so than the spankings. Mom sighed softly, her motherly concern evident in every word. “They’re not, Reilly. They’re to help you. And anyway, pull-ups are just diapers that get pulled up instead of taped on, except the pull-ups leaked all over your sheets and the diapers didn’t.” She paused, catching herself before she rehashed that entire debate. “That’s when I started diapering you myself at night, to make sure you had on your diaper like you agreed to. But even then, you were taking them off after I went to bed.” Dad crossed his arms, though his tone remained even. “That’s when we had to make the decision to extend the discipline. It wasn’t easy for any of us, but your mom and I decided because you really wanted this to work, we’d do more to help make it work. It wasn’t just about bedwetting anymore. If you took off your diaper, you were disobeying us. For that, we started giving you a spanking for when your behavior warranted it … And other consequences. We never spanked any of you before, and we thought you had outgrown needing those kinds of consequences, but, well, …”. He shrugged, not bothering to finish his sentence. Matt, usually quiet during these conversations, chimed in. “So that’s when the spankings started being for more than just accidents, right?” “Exactly,” Dad nodded. “It became about following the rules we set to help Reilly. We needed to address not just the bedwetting but the rule breaking, and so long as we were using more childish consequences for breaking that rule, and because it did work – you did stop taking off your diapers – we decided to try it for general discipline issues.” Reilly shifted uncomfortably. He knew all this; his parents never instituted any change in his so-called routine or discipline without explaining it and making sure he understood. He appreciated that, but he still hated the embarrassment of talking about it, compounded by his siblings being in the room, though they knew most of it already. Julie still lived at home, and Matt visited frequently. “I get it, but it still doesn’t feel fair,” he mumbled. “I wasn’t trying to be bad. I just didn’t want to wear the diapers.” “We understand that,” Mom said softly, “which is why we did the other consequence – if you took your diaper off at night, you got an extra hard spanking and had to wear diapers for the entire day.” Mom and Dad had started using new words, or, rather, old words without even realizing it after diapering Reilly became a part of their lives again. Toilets once more became potties in their lexicon. Mom continued, “We meant it to be just a one-time thing. We thought you’d get the message, hate having to use them so much we’d never have to put you in daytime diapers again. Except, you didn’t get the message right away. And then you had a daytime accident in your diaper. And another and another.” Dad added, “And then you stopped taking your diaper off at night, and we stopped diapering you during the day and …” “The accidents didn’t stop,” Julie finished. Turning to Matt, she added, “Not every single time he had to use the bathroom, and not every day, but …” She chose her next word carefully. “Enough that I think we can all agree it’s a problem, let’s say.” Reilly’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “That wasn’t my fault!” he protested. “I don’t know why it happened. I didn’t mean to have accidents.” Mom reached out to place a hand on his knee, her touch soft but firm. “We know, honey. We don’t think it’s your fault.” Reilly was quiet, his mind racing. He hadn’t thought about the time of it all before. “I wasn’t having accidents before the daytime diapers,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. “That’s exactly it,” Dad said, his voice thoughtful. “We’re not entirely sure what happened, but it did. And not only that. Reilly,” he said in a tone careful to avoid sending the wrong message, “you must’ve noticed your behavior since all this has become – I’m sorry to say it like this – more childish. Issues we haven’t had since you were little. Not doing your homework, arguing about chores, and just … Stuff we thought we’d never have to deal with again. Getting you to take a shower, eating your vegetables, arguing over so much, even – let’s call them what they are – temper tantrums when you don’t get your way.” Mom jumped in. “We’re not saying these things to be mean Reilly.” Quietly, Reilly said, “I know. I don’t know why I’ve been that way. I … I just can’t help myself sometimes.” Mom continued, “I know, sweetie. It’s not like daddy and I want to be putting our adult son in timeout or taking away toys and privileges, or giving you an early bedtime. Let alone having to spank you when none of that gets through to you.” It had been awkward, an understatement if ever there was one, for Mom and Dad to spank Reilly for the bedwetting like he asked them to. It was mortifying for all of them when they decided the time had come to give a spanking as an actual consequence for actual misbehavior. That in three months it had become almost normal – Reilly was by then getting his bottom swatted to some extent – sometimes a couple warning swats, sometimes a full-blown over-the-knee, bare bottom spanking – that it just wasn’t a big deal anymore. It did stop Reilly’s misbehavior in its tracks most of the time, but he recovered so quickly that thirty minutes after it was over, you’d never suspect he’d gotten his 18-year-old fanny warmed by his mother. Mom added, “And it does help. Daddy and I have seen it, and you said as much, how those kinds of childish punishments, as much as you don’t like them, do calm you down when you lose your composure.” That isn’t quite how he put it, but when they had not one but three family mini-meetings, just the three of them, trying to get to the bottom of all this, Reilly had, furiously blushing, admitted he was doing his best and knew the way he was acting wasn’t right or normal, so while he hated being disciplined those ways, he knew and appreciated that it got him back on track, albeit briefly. Dad said, “We’re trying to find out why all this has happened, but while we do that, it’s important to deal with the reality in front of us. You have the whole summer in front of you, and you’re supposed to start college in the fall. We can’t ignore that there are two problems we have to deal with head on, and they’re related.” Mom looked at Reilly with sympathy. “That’s why we’re talking about this now. It’s not just about punishment or control. It’s about helping you adjust and giving you the structure that seems to help you feel better.” Reilly could feel the walls closing in around him. The mention of more structure put him on alert. His voice wavered as he spoke. “So… what does this mean? What are you going to do?” Mom glanced at Dad before delivering the news. “The first thing is we can’t let these accidents continue without doing something. It’s not about your clothes or the couch; those are just things, Reilly. It’s about you, your health, physical and mental. We know these accidents make you so terribly anxious and upset. We know it’s embarrassing. And they’ve been getting worse.” “No, they haven’t,” Reilly interjected, trying to save face. Mom’s expression softened in sympathy. “I know they have, sweetheart. If know you’ve been hiding more accidents and using your allowance to buy underpants. A few wet accidents I may not have noticed, but so many … and the messy ones.” She could see how mortified Reilly was, and that was the whole point. He was always embarrassed on mentally preparing himself to be embarrassed. He was hyper-focused on not having an accident; when they started asking him and remind him to use the potty, he was way ahead of them, going to the bathroom seemingly every twenty minutes even when he didn’t have to go. Even then, not all accidents were averted. Even if they had been, sitting on the potty almost half the day was hardly a solution to his problem. Mom took a deep breath and made the first announcement that was the point of the family meeting: “Daddy and I decided to put you back in diapers full-time until we get this all figured out, Reilly. We think it’s the best way to manage your accidents and help you feel more comfortable., and get this thing licked before the end of the summer.” Reilly’s reaction was immediate and visceral. “Full-time? Like a baby?” His voice cracked, rising with panic. “Not like a baby, Reilly,” Mom said gently. “Think of it as a precaution, something to help you avoid embarrassment and discomfort. This isn’t a punishment. This is a good thing. No more accidents everyone can see, no more being constantly afraid you’re going to have an accident, no more of that anxiety and stress, no more running to the potty and …” She shook her head. “ … the heartbreak on your face …” Her voice broke. “… when you don’t make it. It doesn’t have to be that way. This will fix all of that until we figure out how to stop these accidents.” “But what will people think?” Reilly’s voice was full of fear and resistance. “What if someone finds out?” Dad’s voice was calm but firm. “We’ll handle it discreetly. The people who need to know will be told with your dignity in mind. They won’t think any less of you.” “But what about everyone else?” Reilly asked, his panic growing. “What if they see? I don’t want people making fun of me!” “We’ll be as careful as we can, Reilly,” Mom reassured him. “But we need to be realistic. Your care requires effort and attention, and while we’ll do our best to keep it private, there might be situations where it’s unavoidable. We’ll be there, all of us, to help you get through it. No one is going to make fun of my Reilly on my watch, but really, hun, people are more mature than you might think. I don’t think that will be an issue.” Tears pricked at Reilly’s eyes, the overwhelming fear of being exposed gnawing at him. He opened his mouth to argue more, but Mom held up a hand gently. “Reilly, I know this is hard. But we’re doing this because we love you and we want what’s best for you.” Julie, sensing her brother’s rising anxiety, leaned forward. “Reilly, no one is going to make fun of you. We’re all here to help. And honestly, diapers are way less embarrassing than a big wet spot on your pants or… you know, something worse.” Reilly’s face crumpled in shame as Julie’s comment reminded him of the messy accident he’d had during her awards ceremony. The ceremony was outdoors, and they sat at the end of the aisle just so Reilly could get to the potty quickly. He’d known he needed the potty, but when Mom noticed his fidgeting and asked him if he need to excuse himself, a silly sense of pride he couldn’t even explain to himself, led him decide to hold it just to prove he could. Mom, Dad, and Matt all saw him fidgeting more and more, and when Mom directly suggested to him he go use the potty, he denied needing to go at all. And then, after it happened, it was the unmistakable scent and not that Reilly, cringing in his seat, had stopped squirming. Yet when Mom asked him point blank if he had an accident, he actually denied it. They were all perplexed – did he really not know what he’d done, or did he think they couldn’t tell, or was he too silly and proud to admit or, did he just not mind sitting in it? After a half-minute of confused looked between Mom, Dad, and Matt, Dad took Reilly by the hand to the bathroom to get himself cleaned up. Reilly never gave a straight answer explaining his behavior. Messy accidents were thankfully much more rare, but they happened more than that one time, which was noteworthy because of Reilly’s behavior and because it was the first such accident in public, so far. Mom’s voice softened even more as she tried to soothe him. “Remember that, Reilly. We’re doing this to prevent those situations. Diapers aren’t babyish—they’re just a way to help you stay comfortable.” Reilly, still overwhelmed, was on the verge of a full-on tantrum. His hands balled into fists, and his breath came in shallow gasps. “I don’t want to wear them all the time!” he yelled, the fear and frustration bubbling to the surface. Dad, seeing where this was headed, spoke in a low, warning tone. “Reilly, calm down. You’re getting too worked up.” “I won’t calm down! I’m 18, and you’re talking about making me wear diapers like a baby!!!” Julie jumped in. “Do we need to take a break to calm down?” Often, she knew, when Reilly was headed toward a tantrum, he just needed a few minutes to collect himself. “I’m not wearing diapers all the time! You can’t make me!” “Reilly,” Mom said sharply to get his attention, “If you keep yelling, you’re getting a spanking.” She knew from the many tantrums in the past three months Reilly was past his point-of-no-return when he couldn’t be reasoned with and only the threat of a spanking could stop a full-blown tantrum. And unlike a toddler’s tantrum, an 18-year-old’s was louder, wilder, and sometimes even dangerous with the throwing, thrashing, and actual sprawled-out-feet-and-hands-pounding-the-floor theatrics. They were worried Reilly would unintentionally hurt himself or someone else. The threat of a spanking was effective in stopping a tantrum past the point of no return perhaps two times in five. When it failed, a few warning swats on the seat of his pants could bring him back around perhaps another two times in five. The fifth time, Reilly needed a spanking, a real one. Once they told Reilly he was getting a spanking, Mom and Dad always followed through, and for all the physicality of his tantrums, and though it was sometimes a test of wills, they always managed to get him over their knees where they could deliver a safe, measured spanking. Sometimes he stopped right away, sometimes he needed to be spanked to tears, but always afterward he was mortified and apologetic. Mom and Dad never had any hard feelings about it; they knew he wanted to be behaving that away even less than he wanted to get spanked. At the mention of a spanking, Reilly froze, his body stilling as the anger began to ebb away. He didn’t want to be spanked, especially not in front of Julie and Matt (again). His voice cracked as he spoke again, this time quieter. “It’s just… I hate it.” “We know, sweetie,” Mom said, her voice full of compassion. “But you need to trust us.” The tantrum, and that the threat of a pink bottom stopped it in its tracks, made a convenient segue for the second part of Mom and Dad’s decision. “Reilly,” Dad said, “There’s more. Your behavior since all this began … I’ve already said that.” He had rehearsed and prepared for this, but forgot it all in the moment. “We’re also going to be stricter with you for a while. The yelling and near-tantrum you just had, that’s not normal for a boy your age. You know that. And as much as you hate getting spanked, we hate having to do it … But none of us can deny it works. It does work on tantrums, and for some of the other issues you’ve been having.” Reilly was panicking again. “So what are you saying? I’m going to get spanked for every little thing!?!” “No,” Mom said. “No. We’ll keep using spanking as a disciplinary tool like we’ve been doing. Only when it’s call for and always proportional to your misbehavior. What Daddy is saying is there are going to be some more rules and structure, and we’re going to enforce that. When you make a bad choice, there will be consequences. Spanking is a last resort. You can avoid it if you listen, and I know you’ll try your best.” That was the central issue: Reilly was trying his best, and his best wasn’t good enough to keep him acting, and having accidents, like a toddler. Not they ever had or ever would punish accidents, but two issues seemed link, like Reilly has regressed somehow. Dad had decided against telling Reilly this part of their thinking, but in the moment, he let it slip. “Little kids thrive on structure. We know you’re not a little kid, but the issues you’ve been having, we think it’s worth a try.” Julie jumped in with more comforting words. “You know, this isn’t forever, Reilly. It’s just for the summer, so we can help you get back on track before college.” Reilly’s shoulders sagged in defeat. “What about when summer’s over?” “We’ll reassess then,” Dad answered. “It might not even last the summer. We’re all hoping we can get this thing figured out fast, and things can all go back to normal. If it takes longer, if it takes the summer, then it takes the summer. None of us want that, and I’m sure there will be some bumps along the way. We’ll need to make adjustments, we’ll figure out how to make it work. But for now, we’re focusing on what’s best for you. Bottom line is we’re all here for you.; this is about supporting your needs and getting you through this.” Reilly stayed quiet, but he knew the sense in what they were saying. It seemed outlandish, but then so did his original idea that a morning spanking would cure his bedwetting. Matt, who hadn’t said much, spoke up. “So, what exactly is this full-time diaper and discipline routine thing going to look like?” Mom explained the logistics. “Diapers full-time, of course. We’ll try to avoid as many accidents as possible, but with the diapers, when an accident happens, we’re not going to treat it like a big deal. That’s what diapers are for; we’ll get you cleaned up and move on with our day.” “You’ll get me cleaned up,” Reilly asked. Mom understood what he was asking. “We think it’s best that we handle the diapering and changes, at least for now.” She paused a moment to remember the rest of the routine. “You’ll have a bedtime and a daily nap. Being well-rested will help avoid some of the misbehavior you’ve been getting into. We’re going to limit your screentime and make sure you’re only watching or playing stuff that doesn’t get you worked up. Eating healthy is important, too, so say the support groups I joined when all this started, so you’re going to have to ask when you want a snack and eat what we feed you.” “The other big thing,” Dad said, “is you’re not going to be left alone while all this is going on. We know you like your independence. A summer job is obviously out of the question, and now with school out, you’re going to have a lot of free time. You’re going to need help with your diapers, and we want you to be safe and supported at all times, so someone will always be with you.” “So I can’t see my friends,” an almost despondent Reilly asked. “Of course you can,” Mom told him. “There just needs to be someone with you. They can keep their distance, and maybe it could even be one of your friends’ parents if you’re hanging out at their house.” “And we’ll need you and Julie to help more,” Dad added, looking at his older children. “You’ll need to keep an eye on Reilly and sometimes be his …” Dad hadn’t found a suitable euphemism, and Reilly was too smart to fall for it anyway. “… his babysitter sometimes. But most importantly, just be there for him.” Julie nodded, understanding her role. “We can do that. Right, Matt?” Matt nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we’ve got this. We’ll help in every way we can. We’re going to beat this, Reilly.” “And we’re still looking for a babysitter,” Dad continued. “Someone who can help during the day when we’re not around and just when we need an extra set of hands.” “In fact,” Mom added, “we’re looking for someone around your age so it’s not awkward when they’re chaperoning you with your friends.” Reilly, who had been quietly listening, finally spoke again. “Can I have some input on who it is?” “Of course,” Mom assured him. “We’ll make sure it’s someone you’re comfortable with.” There was a lengthy pause. “Reilly,” Julie asked, “how are you feeling right now?” He didn’t answer right away, his expression at first inscrutable. “I just … I want this to … I just want to get past this. If you think this is best … And I know this is … I don’t want to be … a burden.” His voice, and Mom and Julie were immediately at his side comforting him. “I trust you if you say this is going to help … I’ll try my best, I promise.” Tears were flowing, and he turned and pressed his face into Mom’s chest, the soft, safe place he’d nestled his head when he was upset all the way back to his toddler days, but not in years now. Mom cooed and shushed while Julie patted his back and told him everything would be okay and that they all loved him. Dad and Matt echoed it all. They told Reilly how proud they were he was taking responsibility by acquiescing. His parents would’ve made him cooperate if they had to, and they were so glad they didn’t. By the end of their praise and pep talk, Reilly almost felt good about the changes in life, that it was all positive if it actually made a difference. As he had with every family meeting they’d ever had, Dad signaled its end by standing up, stretching his arms, and saying, “I think we all deserve a frosty chocolate milkshake. You wanna help me, Reilly?” “Actually,” Mom interjected, “I’m going to get Reilly into a diaper. We won’t be long.” “Does it have to be now,” Reilly asked, hoping to delay daytime diapers until at least the next day. “No time like the present. Besides, it’s almost your new bedtime after milkshakes.” It was 8:15. And we might as well get you in your bedtime diaper and jammies now.” She’s helping me into my pajamas, Reilly wondered. “Reilly,” Julie said nervously. “Since I’m going to be helping you out and watching you sometimes, I’m going to have to learn, you know, how Mom and Dad do certain things. Is it okay if I come upstairs so I can learn how to diaper you … I mean, put your diaper on?” She wondered to herself how, exactly, the latter phrase was supposed to be less embarrassing for him and couldn’t say. Reilly didn’t want her to see him down there, let alone to diaper him, not then or ever. He looked to Mom, hoping she would say he’d had enough change for one night. Alas for him, she said, “That’s a really good idea, Julie. And thank you for jumping right in. See, Ry? We’re all here for you together.” Holding his hand, Mom led Reilly upstairs, Julie following behind. “Everything’s going to be okay, Ry. We’re not going to let any of this stop you from having fun this summer. In fact, not to toot my own horn, but I have it on good authority I’m kinda the best at making diaper changes fun.” Scared not just about the new routine but about his future, Reilly remembered in the moment a coping mechanism a counselor had taught him, to remember to feel gratitude. He had a great family, and he knew it. Everything was out of love, including all the work they were undertaking for him. They were rooting for him. He reminded himself of that, and even Julia’s silly joke made him smile, just a little. _____________________ Get the next chapter on my SubscribeStar. https://subscribestar.adult/alexbridges

For the first time, I've been brave and worn a diaper whilst out shopping (and on the bus) for presents (nearly that time of year). It's been really comforting and I've hidden the str8up diaper really well under strecy jeans and long teeshirts. As far as I'm aware no one has seen it, if I need to change, my local shopping center has a large designated adult changing area and the gents also have a smaller pad changing area with a hygiene bin. I can't wait to do this again it's been amazing!!! 🤩

AB/DL Diaper Bag Packing List Going to your first AB/DL event? Starting your adventure of trying diapers 24/7? A diapered road trip? This article is what I would have liked to know when I started my adventure. This list is what I consider to be the bare necessities. Starting of the list… the diaper bag… it wouldn’t be a diaper bag list if you didn’t have a bag! A standard backpack with three main pouches, and side pockets on either side for a drink or bottle is my ideal bag. I personally have two bags… one for regular public use which is just a black military style pack and one for ABDL events and conventions that is covered in ABDL and other fetish affiliated pins, badges, and patches. Now that we have the bag we need to pack it. Starting off my advice is to pack things in the likelihood that you are going to need them, so I always pack my spare change of clothes. Jeans, shirt, socks, diaper cover in the bottom in the bag in the main pouch. Trust me, you would rather have them and not need them than need them and not have them. Next is diapers and boosters… if the bag has a laptop pouch, I like to put two of each in this section, so they are a quick and easy grab. It is up to you if you need it more or less. I also like to add a pack of diaper disposable bags in the same section of my diapers. Northshore is who I recommend for these. Their packs are small and deodorizing. The last item I place in the main pouch is my diaper changing mat. The mat isn’t always usable in all situations like in a toilet stall, but I like using it over the toilet to place my changing supplies and keeping a barrier between my stuff and a public toilet. (Just make sure you wipe it down with disinfectant wipes when you are done. Moving on from the main pouch of the bag and focusing on the outside of the bag. I always carry my water bottle on my public bag or a bottle or sippy bottle on my dominant hand side of the bag. In the front exterior bag this is where you want to carry your changing supplies, so you are not fishing around looking for them. I recommend investing in small bottles or going the easier route and getting several small travel sized bottles that you can just refill. If diapers are a sexual thing for you and you are planning on being active don’t forget to pack lube and protection! The last thing I always pack in my diaper bag is my noise cancelling headphones, a handheld gaming device, (I like rocking my old 90s Gameboy with Pokémon yellow as a conversation starter at events), a deck of playing cards or a Yugioh deck if I know others will have them, and an activity book and pencils. I hope you find this list and guide helpful to you. This is obviously not the only way to pack your bag or what you may need, but this is a good starting point. Make this check list your own! Happy Padded Life to All – J.p. Diaper Bag Check List o Diapers x2 o Boosters x2 o Changing Mat o Changing Supplies o Powder o Lotion o Baby Oil o Disinfectant wipes o Wipes o Lube o Condoms o Protection o Discreet Disposable bags o Deodorizer o Spare pair of jeans o Socks o Diaper cover o Spare shirt/onesie o Headphones o Gaming device/stimuli o Paci o Bottle Diaper Bag Packing List.pdf

This is my first story posting on here. I would love to hear your comments on what you liked and future ideas! Let me know if you have any critiques or suggestions. I'm still figuring out the formatting here. Also, AI helped me write this story. Humiliation at Walmart Chapter 1 of 8 Bradley’s heart pounded as he walked in the kitchen, the morning sunlight streaming through the windows and casting a warm glow on the tiled floor. The air smelled faintly of coffee and toast, but all he could focus on was the dampness between his legs and the way his diaper sagged uncomfortably under his pajama pants. Bradley was 18 years old and a senior in high school. He lived with his stepmother and stepsister. Bradley was a very short and scrawny teenager. Puberty has yet to come to Bradley, he had no hair other than the hair on his head. He was small down there, something he was very embarrassed about. His stepsister and stepmother were much taller and stronger than him. His stepmother, Michelle, stood there in her perfectly pressed summer dress, her arms crossed. Katie, his stepsister was in the same grade as him in school. Katie loved to tease Bradley. She loved to joke about letting his bedwetting secret slip to the whole school. There were already rumors floating around about his bedwetting chart. Katie was much more mature than he was. Bradley always seemed to show a strong lack of responsibility and obedience. The opposite of Katie. Katie leaned lazily against the counter, her long legs stretched out in her usual nighttime attire—cute high-cut panties that showed off her butt and a top that clung to her slender body. Bradley hated how she loved to flaunt her lack of need for diapers by showing off her mature panties. A constant reminder of his own humiliating need for diapers at night. She smirked at him, her eyes flicking down toward his waistline. “Good morning, Bradley,” Michelle said in that tone—the one that always made him feel like he was five years old. Her voice was sweet but laced with authority, the kind that brooked no argument. “Come here, let me check your diaper.” Bradley hesitated, his cheeks burning. God, why does she have to do this? Why can’t I just take it off in my bedroom and tell her? But he knew better than to do that. Ever since he’d lied about being dry, Michelle had insisted on checking his diaper every morning herself. No matter what she was in the middle of doing, where she was, or who was there. He had to find her and let her check him before he was allowed to remove his diaper. And in the kitchen, with Katie standing there, it felt even more humiliating. They were in the same grade and he was treated so much differently than her. Bradley’s stomach dropped. He hated this routine. His feet dragged as he approached her. Katie’s eyes followed him, a smirk playing on her lips. He could already hear the teasing remarks forming in her mind. He was lucky she hasn't gone around school telling everyone about his embarrassing secret. At least not that he knows of. Michelle knelt down, and sighed impatiently gesturing for him to turn around. He did, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. Katie let out a little laugh, and he shot her a glare, but she just giggled. “Relax, Brad,” she teased, crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you in diapers before.” Michelle ignored her and tugged at the waistband of Bradley’s pajama pants, pulling them down just enough to reveal the white diaper underneath. Bradley’s entire body tensed, his breath catching in his throat. Her fingers moved quickly, pressing against the diaper to check for wetness. When she found it, she clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Wet again,”Michelle sighed heavily, pulling his pajama bottoms back up before straightening up and wiping her hands on a nearby dish towel. “I don’t know what we’re going to do with you, Bradley. You’re 18 years old. This is ridiculous! Maybe I should just give up and start putting you to bed right after dinner in your diaper like the baby you are acting like” The threat made Bradley plead, “I’m trying,” he stammered, his voice strained. “I really am.” “Well, trying clearly isn’t enough,” Michelle replied, her tone hardening. “You’re 18 years old, Bradley. This is embarrassing for all of us.” Michelle marked the potty chart with a big red frowny face sticker on today's date. The chart was covered in red frowny faces for accidents. There were a few green happy faces scattered here and there, but they were rare. Too rare. Katie let out a quiet laugh, stepping closer, peering over Michelle’s shoulder at the chart. “Wow, Brad,” she said, her voice teasing. “Another frowny face for the bed-wetter. You’re really on a roll this week.” Bradleys face turned hot, “Shut up, Katie,” he muttered, though his voice lacked any real force. He hated the stupid potty chart that had been hanging there for months now, a constant reminder of his failures. It was bad enough that Michelle recorded every accident, but knowing that anyone who walked into their kitchen could see it—would see it—was unbearable. He was sure one of Katies friends saw it and blabbed to someone at his school. How else would the rumors at school got started? Bradley’s eyes flicked to Katie, who was now openly smirking at him. He hated her. He hated the the way Katie always seemed to be standing there, watching, smirking, like she enjoyed seeing him humiliated. He hated the diapers, the checks, the way Michelle treated him like he was still a little child, like he was incapable of doing anything on his own. “Michelle,” he started, his voice trembling. “Can’t I just tell you, do you really have to check me every morning? I’m not a baby.” Michelle turned to him, her eyes narrowed, for a moment, he thought she might yell at him. But instead, she set the stickers down and put her hands on her hips. “Bradley, we’ve been over this before, you know the rules. No taking off your diaper until I’ve checked you. . You lied to me before, remember? I have to make sure you’re being honest.” He wanted to argue, to scream that he was an adult and didn’t need this kind of treatment, but the threat of a spanking hung over him like a dark cloud. Michelle didn’t tolerate backtalk, and she had no problem carrying through on her threats. Bradley had learned that the hard way. “Go change out of your soaked diaper, shower quickly, then put on your big boy underwear,” Michelle instructed, “We’re going grocery shopping soon.” Bradley’s heart sank. He hated grocery shopping with Michelle. It was just another opportunity for her to treat him like a child in public. He glanced at Katie, who was clearly interested in his plight. “Can’t I just stay home?” he asked, his voice wavering slightly. He hated how desperate he sounded, but the thought of spending hours in the store with Michelle was unbearable. Michelle’s gaze hardened. “No, you can’t stay home. I don’t trust you alone, and Katie has plans with her friend. You’re coming with me.” Katie walked over to the dishwasher, showing off her big girl underwear, as she bent low to load her plate. “Yeah, I’m meeting Ashley at the mall. We’re going to try on new dresses, then come back here and tan. Prom is just around the corner” she said, shooting Bradley a sly grin. “But don’t worry, baby brother. I’m sure you’ll have fun picking out cereal and diapers.” Bradley glared at her, his fists trembling at his sides. “I’m not a baby, I don't want to go,” he plead. Michelle placed a hand on his shoulder, her grip firm. “Bradley, do I need to remind you what happens when you argue?” she asked, her voice low and dangerous. Bradley swallowed hard, his defiance crumbling. “No, ma’am,” he muttered, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Good,” Michelle said, her tone softening slightly. “Now go take a shower and change into your big boy underwear ,” she ordered. “We need to leave soon and don’t forget to go potty before we leave I don't need you embarrassing me and having accident again.” Katie burst out laughing, her amusement clear. “Go potty,” she mimicked in a high-pitched voice, her laughter echoing in the kitchen. Bradley’s face burned. He hated when they brought that up and winced at the memory. He was so embarrassed when he’d had an accident during the day a month ago, right in the middle of the living room. Katie had teased him mercilessly for weeks afterward, and Michelle had made him wear pull ups during the day as a “precaution” until the whole package was gone. He didn’t think he’d ever live it down. Bradley glared at her, but there was nothing he could say. He turned left the kitchen, the weight of his humiliation pressing down on him. As he reached the stairs, he heard Katie call after him, her voice sing-song and cruel. “Don’t forget to rinse really well, baby boy! You wouldn’t want to smell of pee at the store!” Upstairs, Bradley slammed the bathroom door shut behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he tried to steady his breathing. The mirror across the room reflected his red-faced frustration, and he looked away, unable to meet his own gaze. Stripping off the wet diaper, he tossed it into the trash bin with more force than necessary before stepping into the shower. The water was lukewarm, doing little to soothe his anger. He scrubbed at his skin as if he could wash away the shame, the helplessness. But no matter how hard he tried, he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Not as long as Michelle insisted on treating him like this. Not as long as Katie kept mocking him. By the time he stepped out of the shower, his skin was red and raw, but he still didn’t feel clean. He didn’t want to go grocery shopping. But he didn’t have a choice. Michelle had made that clear. Dressing quickly, he pulled on a pair of his briefs. They were a little small on him and had cartoon characters all over them. They were very juvenile, but that's all Michelle would buy him, another thing Bradley hated. He put on his jeans, his hands trembling as he buttoned them, and grabbed a plain T-shirt, avoiding anything that might draw attention. As he put it on, the memory of Katie’s laughter echoed in his mind, fueling his resentment. Bradley shuffled downstairs, his heart heavy with dread. Michelle was already waiting by the door, her summer dress perfectly pressed, her hair brushed to a flawless shine, and her purse slung over one shoulder. As he approached, she gave him a stern look and reached into her bag, pulling out her hairbrush. Bradley froze mid-step, his eyes locked on the offending object. “Just a reminder,” Michelle said, her voice calm but edged with warning. “If you act up at the store, I will use this. Do you understand?” Bradley nodded quickly, his cheeks burning. “Yes, ma’am,” he groaned. Katie was at the top of the stairs behind him laughing at the threat, Michelle never spanked her. She leaned against the banister with a smirk. She was still in her bedtime outfit—nothing but a top and a pair of revealing panties—and she looked far too pleased with herself. "Don’t forget to go potty before you leave, Bradley," she called, her voice dripping with mock concern. "We wouldn’t want another accident, would we?" She said as she passed him, flaunting her panties. “I already went,” he lied quickly, desperate to avoid another humiliation. Katie leaned against the kitchen counter, grinning wickedly. “Sure you did, baby. Just like you ‘went’ last time, right before you peed your pants.” Bradley clenched his fists at his sides, but he didn’t say anything. Arguing with Katie only ever made things worse. Michelle raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Are you sure?” Her tone sounded like she was asking a toddler who was doing the potty dance. “I’m sure,” Bradley stammered, trying to get the embarrassing conversation over with. His cheeks were burning. Why did she have to ask him that? He wasn’t a child. Katie giggled, the sound grating on his nerves. “Mom, maybe you should just put him in one of his nighttime diapers before you go out. You know, just in case.” Michelle tilted her head considering it for a moment, “that's not a bad idea.” Bradley's jaw dropped, his eyes wide, he couldn't believe she was actually considering it. “No, he can wear his big boy underwear today. But Bradley,” she added, turning her full attention back to him, “if you have an accident at the store, you’ll be in big trouble. Do you understand?” “I’m not going to have an accident,” he snapped, his frustration boiling over. “I’m not a baby!” Katie snickered and Michelle’s eyes narrowed, she stepped closer, her presence looming. “Don’t talk back, young man. Now are you going to be a good boy for me on our shopping trip and not embarrass me?” Bradley’s face flushed crimson. He wanted to argue, to scream that he was eighteen, for God’s sake, but he knew better. Michelle didn’t tolerate defiance. Instead, he clenched his fists and nodded his head, his jaw tight. “Good,” she said, smoothing her dress. “Now, let’s go. And remember, Bradley, if you misbehave, I’ve got my hairbrush right here.” She patted her purse for emphasis, and Bradley’s stomach twisted.

Neil was more than excited to get accepted into a frat his freshman year of college. Although he was nervous about living with a bunch of guys he'd never met before, he was significantly more scared of being the only guy on the football team not in the fraternity. He was warned that the frats hazing pranks for new initiates could get pretty intense, but so far all the guys seemed pretty nice. That was until his first night in the frat house. When he woke up, Neil found his sheets soaked, his hand still left in a now cold bowl of water. He could handle that, but what came next, he found way more upsetting. His clothes had all been taken and hid away, the only thing left for him was a pack of plain white adult diapers... After fighting with himself on whether or not to give in, Neil finally put on the diaper, struggling with the straps a bit and getting it a little lopsided. He'd then begin a humiliating trek across the house, begging the other guys in the frat to let him borrow their clothes. eventually he would get a pair of pants a little too big, a shirt and jacket to small, and no belt. It was getting late, and Neil had his first day of classes, he couldn't miss them. So finally, he would step out onto the campus grounds, tail tucked between his legs hoping no one would notice his crinkly white waistband has he hurried to his first class... (rp is open to anyone! feel free to ask questions!)

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.

(this is fiction, wishful fiction) --constructive feed back is always welcome by me. I have not written for a while, so please be kind 🙂 So, I suddenly found myself in the most terrifying and shocking scenarios, the kind I fantasized about, but never would make plans to do. When the housekeeper opened the door to the hotel room for cleaning, she was met with quite the sight of me. In the middle of the room, gagged with a large pacifier, dressed like a baby was yours truly, tied up in a harness. I had on a bonnet, booties, some thin babyish mittens, and a lace trimmed romper of the most babyish style. Cuffs secured my arms to my sides in multiple places, and I had a chain connecting my ankles. I could walk (not quickly) but my upper body was completely restrained. I was planning to attend the fetish convention later, that was my reason for being here. I wanted to have some playtime before, to keep me out of trouble for the late morning, (and partake in some fantasy play) I was heavily diapered, and secured in the most humiliating and infantile attire. Think lots of pastel pinks and blues. I moaned into the gag, trying to explain to her what was going on, to come back later, or let me out, all while a small intrude in my behind softly teased me, adding to my shame. “Oh, are you here for the convention?” she asked with a chuckle, “you look all dressed up and ready to go!” I replied, but the paci did its job very well keeping me gagged, it was strapped on comfortably snug. I tried to wiggle my arms, tug at the restraints and reins, but they held very well, just as intended. I had wanted to be tied up, and left. The idea of being helpless, and the risk of getting caught was a VERY common theme in my favorite stories, and scenes. I was worried she was going to call the cops, security, the news, and I would be in trouble and publicly shamed, but she reassured me. “Listen, I do not care what people get up to, in fact this is simply adorable” she stated, “but this is my last room and then I am done for the day.” I thought that maybe this meant she was going to let me out, so I could get out of the way, crawl in a hole with my embarrassment, and just hide. She grabbed my convention lanyard. “Well you better not forget this.” She tried to hand me my lanyard/entry pass, which I was very much unable to hold and so she settled for slipping it over my head. I was confused at first then realized that she thought THIS is how I wanted to attend the con, a helpless baby. She took a walk around me, examining the straps and tightening a couple, further limiting my already limited movement. I tried to tell her that I didn’t want this, that this was all a big misunderstanding, but all that came out was some muffled “mmph”s. I felt the vibe in me increase as I heard “What does this button do?” She pressed it a few more times, and I was left struggling with it on the teasing setting. She then just started cleaning the room, me standing there stunned. I was confused and dumbfounded, so I quick slipped into the bathroom to get out of sight. I could hear her changing the sheets, vacuuming, etc. I was desperate for her to finish so I could get out of this gear and hope to never see her again. A short while later I heard a knock on the bathroom door “Little baby…I have some fresh towels but I will just leave them on the bed.” I replied that it would be fine and thanked her, all of it was complete muffled gibberish. Then in a more personal voice she said “I am going to the convention also, hence my rush to get finished. Maybe I will catch you there?” Once I heard the room door shut I peeked out, and the coast was clear. I made a straight line for the desk to get the key when I realized that in her cleaning she had moved it to a little tray at the back of the desk, way out of my limited reach. I panicked, because in my stupidness I had not taken my spare out of the bag, and with my mittened hands I could barely manipulate the key, let alone open and rummage through a suitcase. I shuffled toward the door, my padded crotch giving me a slight waddle, and timidly peeked out in the hall. I knew my options were to be stuck like this, and have to call for help, or try and catch up with her, and get her help. She was waiting just down the hall at the elevator. The door opened and I knew I had to hurry, so I tried to run. As expected, the chain connection between my legs was not conducive to running so I tripped a little. I ended up bracing against a wall, then slid down onto my thickly padded bum. In desperation I turned and watched my hope for escape enter the elevator, the doors closed shortly after. I thought I would just get back to my room and try to figure out an escape then. Maybe I could reach the key with something, in hindsight that seemed like the best idea anyway. As I got to the door I scooted my side to the door and turned the handle. It turned, but nothing happened. I tried again, nothing. It was then that a sinking feeling hit me, and a cold chill ran down my spine. My room key was in the room. In a panic I pushed hard on the door, wiggled the handle more, and screamed into my gag in desperate frustration. I was panicking, rapidly breathing, pulling as hard as I could on my restraints. There was no give and now I was just starting to sweat and felt tired. My tantrum had been useless. Sooner or later somebody was going to come out of their room, so the sooner I could get to the front desk, get help and get a new key, the sooner I could hide my shame. The elevator ride was uneventful, and I was just starting to relax when we slowed down for the second floor. “No, no! No!” I screamed into the gag, “I am so close!” The doors opened and a couple of young men entered, then suddenly stopped when they saw what stood before them. They both cracked up, nearly falling over laughing. “Wow!” one said, “Man, you either are into some weird shit or this is a very solid prank.” “He is blushing” the other one barely got out between chuckles, “I bet he loves this!” I did love it, I hated it, I was terrified, turned on, scared, and in submissive heaven. The doors shut and we continued to the ground floor. One of them started examining me, tugging me around some with the straps, and just having a blast. By the look on his face I could almost imagine part of him was into it. While he did this, his friend grabbed my leash, clipped to the center of the harness, and tied it off to the hand rail on the back wall. “Here you go, enjoy your fun sissy.” When the door opened I tried to pull at it, hopeful for a loose knot, or weak clip. My body quickly came to a jerking halt, and the pull on my harness stopped me from leaving the elevator. I moaned loudly in frustration, my helpless situation, the constant teasing in my rear, and my hope being so close, but I was unable to reach it. They kept laughing as they got off the lift, walking right by the front desk as if to spite me. My situation had gotten more dire. Until somebody let me out, I was stuck tied up as a baby girl on the elevator. The whole time my intruder kept its teasing up as I braced for the next embarrassment. Somebody must have called the elevator, because we started moving up again. On the 6th floor it stopped, and on got a group of women with serious dominatrix vibes. This was strangely more comforting than some vanilla person, as I am sure they would understand, maybe even help me out? By the time the elevator opened on one, my leash was now more tightly bound to the railing, and I had received quite a few spankings. As they left me there I started to sob, my fun game had turned into a humiliating nightmare with seemingly no end. Somebody got on the elevator, but I didn’t bother to even look up, thinking this could only get worse. “Little baby, what happened to you?” a familiar voice asked. She lifted my head gently, and I realized why I recognized her voice. It was the housekeeper from earlier, but she was not dressed like that anymore. Think Morticia Addams, but in a dangerously cute way. She untied my leash and pulled me to her, holding me in a tight hug. “Baby,” she whispered, “I was actually headed up to your room to check on you and see if you wanted to go together.” I looked at her confusingly and saw that she too had a lanyard on. “Why do you think I was in such a hurry to finish up earlier?” I looked into her eyes, and saw kindness; she used a lace gloved hand to wipe my tears away. “What do you say little girl?” she asked, “come have a coffee with me and we can talk about things?” I nodded, tucking my head back against her. She let out a loving sigh and rubbed my back. When we got back to the lobby, she tugged on my leash, bidding me to follow. --more to come once I think of it lol

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?

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”.

I woke up and stretched my legs as far as I could before they were stopped by the white wooden bars of the crib I was laying in. At 5'7" and 34 years old I was quite surprised I could fit in it well enough to sleep and that it could support my weight. In case I needed a reminder why I was in a crib at this age, my wet diaper underneath my footie pajamas covered in adorable alpacas and snapped up and down both of my legs and crotch kept me from forgetting. Oddly enough, I didn't hate it but it really wasn't my thing either. I knew how happy it made my husband seeing me completely dependent on him and he was lucky I loved him so much to agree to this. It wasn't the first time I wore a diaper for him and not even the first time I donned clothes more suited for a toddler, however, it was the first time I had slept in a diaper and in a crib, though I could see by the lack of light coming in from behind the curtains that I still quite a bit of sleeping to do tonight. Every time before tonight when we had played 'daddy/baby' I was diapered, bottle fed, and snuggled while sucking a pacifier and watching a movie. When the movie ended, so would the baby routine. My husband would lie me down and remove my diaper, clean my private area with baby wipes and gently slide my adult panties back on me and tell me over and over how much he loved me and how happy it made him that I would humor this side of him. It was nice to see him so happy. This week would be different. We rented a vacation home a few hours from our house that had an adorable toddler room for a girl around two. It was decorated perfectly with pink and very light blue elephants and butterflies with thick white carpeting and a large play mat with babyish unicorns all displaying a letter of the alphabet. A baby monitor was anchored to the wall above the crib ensuring the hippo and giraffe mobile did not block the view of the baby inside. A changing table fully stocked with changing supplies sat opposite the crib next to a white dresser painted with fun patterns of pink and polka-dots. The rocking chair in the corner near the window looked ever so inviting and I was sure was used many times to calm down a cranky or hungry baby. If it weren't for the adult sized but baby themed diapers that my husband placed next to the stack of toddler diapers you would have never guessed it was a room for an adult. I knew I had better get back to sleep but it was hard to get comfortable. The plastic mattress protector under me was loud and trying to lay on my side was uncomfortable as my diaper was very swollen between my thighs making the position awkward. Laying on my stomach felt better and if I could have fully stretched my legs I would have felt comfortable but that wasn't an option. As I stirred and repositioned myself trying to find that perfect spot I spotted the pacifier I was put to bed with and placed it in to my mouth. I found it surprising that it was the item I enjoyed most when being babied by my husband. Perhaps the soothing feeling it gave me was instinctual or maybe it was just enough to take my mind off other things, like a warm wet and slightly itchy diaper, but at any rate, it did the trick and I found a comfortable position laying down with my stomach on my upper thighs and my padded bottom slightly in the air. I was nervous to what the morning would bring but very excited to be changed into a fresh diaper.

Rebecca set her bag down upon the bed. Her bed now. At least, for the next semester. The choice to live on campus for her second year wasn't one easily made. Her parents had offered to let her stay in her old bedroom, and it wasn't that long a commute. But... she needed her freedom. There was a time in everyone's life when they needed to go out into the world to figure out for themselves who they are, and you didn't do that by living forever in your childhood bedroom. She couldn't be act like a kid forever. She sighed. Some might argue that last part for certain things. Despite what she wanted, some things wouldn't change. Other things, however, needed to change right now. She opened the bag and dug to the bottom. She felt around with her eyes closed until she landed on the familiar plastic feel. She pulled out the thick, white diaper and looked around her room. She could try going to the bathroom to change, but then she risked being seen. Changing here, however, meant finding a place to store a soaked diaper until she could take her trash out. She sighed, thanked god she managed to get an individual room and put a bag inside the sealing garbage can she had picked out specifically for this. She took hers off, wrapped it in an extra plastic bag, and shoved it in. She re-diapered herself and pulled her skirt down over it. She looked in the mirror and frowned. It wasn't too obvious but... her bottom definitely stuck out. She sashayed back and forth, and the sound of crinkling plastic came through. She told herself it was more obvious because she knew it was there, and realistically no one would be able to tell unless they were looking for it, but it was hard to convince herself. She opened her bag further and took out the bag of diapers. There were twenty of them, each thick, plastic, and unmistakable for what they were. At least they weren't the printed kind- she still remembered with horror when her parents presented her with a pink bunny covered diaper for a "fun change." She wrapped the bag in a blanket, shoved it in a suitcase, and looked around her room. Finally she hid it in her closet and sighed. The brand was far from what she would have wanted. She had considered just stocking up on the underwear like pull ups she wore at home, but even back then she rarely tried wearing them outside the house, or anywhere she'd be far from a bathroom. The next were a bit thicker but still paper backed and quiet. She'd wear them when she'd be out but knew she could change quickly. That had been harder to give up, but in the end it was also still wishful thinking. With hour long classes and even longer tests, not to mention walking all over the campus without a private bathroom, it was too much of a risk. On top of that, a leaking diaper in public was far worse then plastic underwear. So, here she was. She thought for a moment, then reached back into the bag and took a spare diaper out. She figured she should probably bring a spare around, just in case. The campus was large, and she couldn't always be sure to make it back in time. She then reached into her "regular" underwear drawer, took out a pair of briefs, and pulled them up her legs. It always made her feel more comfortable to have something extra in case her skirt ran up, and it helped keep the crinkle sound down. Someone knocked at the door. Before she could answer, a smoothed skin, perfectly formed face, flanked by long, bleached hair, poked inside. "Eeep!" Rebecca said. Thinking quickly, she let her skirt drop back down and threw her her blanket over her bed. "You a bit of a scaredy cat?" the head asked. It was Matilda, an annoying cheerleader who shared some of Rebecca's classes. "What are you hiding?" "None of your business!" Rebecca said. "I mean, nothing. What do you want?" "Just letting you know there is a party tonight," she said. "Oh, I uhhh..." it was tempting, but it was also a Wednesday night. "I really should study. I have a morning class." Matilda laughed. "Oh, the party is for cheerleaders only, silly. Just letting you know in case it got too loud." She slammed the door behind her as she left. Rebecca grumbled to herself. Of course there was no reason for her to mention it, she was sure the cheerleader just wanted her to know she wasn't invited. She packed and headed to class. The read-headed girl walked through the hallways. She kept telling herself the sound of her diaper crinkling was not as loud as it seemed. It was something she knew was true, but had still been a source of anxiety for years. Now, with the unfortunate choice of the extra thick diapers, and the close call, it was all she could think about. "Hello again Rebby!" Matilda said, coming beside her. Rebecca jumped, startled at her sudden appearance. "My your jumpy today Rebby. Or do you prefer Becca?" "I prefer Rebecca," she said. "Whatever you want Becca. Sorry about our little run in earlier, I hope I didn't sound like I was making fun of you." She was dressed in a tank top and short skirt, in direct contrast to Rebecca's sweater and long, plaid skirt. Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Not at all." "Its just, you know, only for cheerleaders. And their boyfriends. And some of their friends. And a few other people. But its ok, you got your own thing going. Love your long skirts and frumpy clothes! Its cute, like a schoolgirl, and I suppose you have to dress according to your build." "Wow, thanks. Yes, your tiny skirts just shout "maturity." A girl they were passing giggled. She had long black hair and short black dress, and hit her smile behind her hand. She winked at Rebecca as they passed. Matilda made a face as she was laughed at, then put on a fake smile and wrapped an arm around Rebecca stomach and pulled her in close. Rebecca kept walking but froze from the waist up. Where she was, Matilda's hand was dangerously close to her... She reached down and moved Matilda's arm away. "Sorry would you mind not doing that?" "Awww. I would mind not doing that, actually. I'm just trying to get close with my new friend." She put a hand around her waist again, this time lower. Rebecca looked at the arm nervously. She considered pushing it away again, but that would probably only encourage Matilda, and she didn't want to risk her trying again and ending up right smack in the wrong place. "I think that's close enough!" Rebecca said, wiping her hand away. Matilde smiled. "Wow! Feisty! You go girl!" she said, and smacked Rebecca on the bottom. There was a moment after the thud where neither spoke. Rebecca stared straight forward, and Matilda looked at her. "What was that?" Matilda asked. "What was what?" Rebecca said. "That sound." "Probably a bird." "No the thud." "Hit a tree." "Then there was a crinkling sound." "A plastic tree." "Awww that's a cute joke sweetie. Such a clever girl!" Rebecca pointed a finger at her. "Hey! Don't talk to me that..." She stopped as Matilda hooked a finger under her skirt and lifted. "HEY! Don't... Errr!" She said, pushing her skirt down. "Sorry, what was that little girl?" Matilda asked. She stepped a bit closer and put her hand back on Rebecca's skirt. She looked straight into her eyes and gave a mocking smile. "I gave you a compliment. What do you say, little girl?" "Ah..." Rebecca paused. It was only a second of contact, she wouldn't necessarily have seen anything. Then again, she might have already seen something from when she barged into her door and been suspicious. Rebecca shook her head. She was trying to think of a way out of it, but realistically she was beaten. Matilda had been teasing her before, but in an entirely different way. She must know. "Thank you for the compliment." "Good girl. Well have a good day! I'll see you in the afternoon class!" Matilda said, and ruffled Rebecca's hair, then hopped away in the other direction.

If you'd like to read this story in ebook form, you can download a free copy of the ebook here: https://peculiarchangeling.gumroad.com/l/PottyDraining The Potty Draining Chart Cover art by FlashyFlesh Day 0 The Potty Draining Chart - Day 0 “And just…like…that!” Vanessa announced, turning on the lamp by the couch, “We are, officially, moved in!” The bulb shed off slightly pink-tinged light, though at the push of a button, the whole room could be changed in tone to any hue on the rainbow. “That’s great, V,” Nicole said, turning to stretch her back. “Really appreciate you plugging in the lamps while I moved the furniture.” Vanessa put a hand to her chest, feigning offense. “Excuse me! Good interior design is what makes a house into a home. Sure, maybe you did more heavy lifting, but I provided that je ne sais quoi that we needed.” Truth be told, Nicole agreed–now that everything was done, with the last easy chair moved in and all of Vanessa’s decorations complete, their shared rental house did feel like a place where they belonged. The move in process had been a drag, starting a couple weeks earlier with mattresses flopped on the floor, working evenings and weekends to drive over what they could in Vanessa’s tiny car and trading beer for use of a friend’s truck on weekends for the big stuff. But now they were done. They could relax, and take the night off. Except… “One more thing,” Nicole said, sipping wine out of her favorite cup–an old novelty mug that read, ‘Don’t Worry, Pea Happy’ with a trio of cartoon peas in a pod printed on it. “The junk box.” “Right, right.” Vanessa rolled her eyes. While moving in, they’d been left with little bits of random crap–stuff that they didn’t quite want to throw away, but nor did they need it around. Christmas decorations that’d been stored under the bathroom sink, old cables and adapters that probably didn’t go to anything, a box of home movies from the previous tenant that Nicole felt bad getting rid of. They had set aside a cardboard box, slowly filling it with crap until it was full to bursting. “We can stick it in the attic for now.” Stepping up to her, Nicole poked a finger into Vanessa’s chest. “You can set it in the attic for now. I’m done lifting boxes for the day–heck, I’m just about ready for bed.” “Fiiine,” Vanessa groaned, more in play than in serious discomfort. Sidestepping the couch, she crouched, hefted the box, and carried it from the living room down the back hall–on the right of the hall was her room, on the left Nicole’s, and at the end, their bathroom. Above, though, dangled a rope for attic access. Fumbling with the box, propping it up on her knee so she wouldn’t have to set it down, Vanessa half-hopped to grab the string and pulled it down. She stepped back as a wooden staircase flopped towards her, snapping into place so fast it almost bonked her head. “Jeez,” she said. “Okay, note to self, springs on this are broken.” Scooting up the creaky stairs one step at a time, she made her way into the crawlspace, an area just high enough for her to stand if she was right in the middle and stooped just a touch. She set down the box, glancing around. Half a dozen cases were already up here. They hadn’t needed any attic storage yet, so this was all from the last resident–a lot of junk, probably, but still, a trove of things to dig through. “Huh. More stuff up here than I expected,” she said. “Hey Nicole! Someone left a bunch of garbage up here!” “Sounds like a problem for tomorrow!” Nicole yelled back. “I’m done moving boxes!” “Sure, sure,” Vanessa said, setting down the jumbled junk she’d carried up. Curiosity overtook her, and she opened up the first box she saw, digging through it. It looked like stuff from someone’s kid–at the top, a highschool yearbook, but as she pulled it out, she saw beneath it journals, and then a diary with a heart shaped lock, and then a handmade scrapbook. Digging further, she found an old dry-erase potty training chart. This box held the history of someone’s life, which could be interesting, but the potty training chart was what spread a smirk across Vanessa’s face. It had two weeks listed on it, one over the other, with three columns for each calendar day. One row had a bed, another had a clock face, and one with a star symbol next to it. The first two, for tracking nighttime and daytime accidents, were pretty obvious. The third, though, Vanessa couldn’t guess the purpose, beyond maybe just special rewards. That’s when they caught her eye–the markers stuck to the side of the board by a magnet. Smirking mischievously, Vanessa took the chart with her when she left the attic, hopping down the old fold-out stairs and closing it up behind her. She glanced down the hall–Nicole was on the couch, not paying attention, so Vanessa uncapped the black marker and wrote in the name box at the top, in big, flowy letters, surrounded by sparkles and hearts. Nicole Then, with an artistic, cutesy flourish, she doodled a rain cloud in the top column for Monday, the one for tracking any accidents from the previous night’s sleep. A wet bed indicator if ever there was one. Finally, using the adhesive strip on the back of the chart, she stuck it to Nicole’s bedroom door. “Oh, Nicole,” she said in her sing-songiest voice. “I added one more decoration!” Nicole looked up, curious and prepared for a dumb joke. Getting up, she walked over, glancing at the chart on her door. “What’s that?” “A potty training chart, so you can stop having accidents!” Vanessa snickered. “I found it upstairs and thought it’d help you!” Nicole rolled her eyes. “I don’t have accidents.” “Are you sure? The chart says you wet the bed,” Vanessa said, pointing to the rain cloud. “Yeah, it says that for tonight, which hasn’t even happened yet!” Nicole shook her head. Snickering, Vanessa quipped, “Well then, maybe take an umbrella to bed, because the forecast is for a wet one!” “Very funny, Vanessa.” Nicole opened her door, and though her expression was deadpan, Vanessa knew she didn’t mind the joke. “I’m going to bed, I’ve got work in the morning.” “Don’t let the bed bugs drown,” Vanessa replied. Nicole shut the door in her face, and before long, Vanessa went to be too. The next morning, though, Vanessa woke up to a shout from her across-the-hall neighbor. Nicole, screaming, “What the f**k?” ... I wrote this as a commission for one of my Patreon subscribers! It's a complete 17,000 word novella, which I'll be posting over the next month or so! If you'd like to support stories like this or get discounts on a commission of your own, you can find me here: https://www.patreon.com/PeculiarChangeling https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

Boom. Glass and brick shoots out from the side of the Central City Research Institute, showering the surrounding yard with debris, hitting nearby skyscrapers and busting out further windows with the aftershock. Outside, civilians scream and run, scattering in all directions, fleeing in terror from the smoke that billows from the institute’s rapid unscheduled exit. A coiled metal hose shoots out, four claws at the end slamming down over the nearest fire hydrant. Water sprays, and is then consumed, pumping into the hose at an incredible pace. Another hose launches out and stabs into dirt, a point of leverage. From within, the creature releases a sloshy, sucking bellow, and drags itself out. Forty feet tall, with a dozen such hoses extending from its base, it’s made of steel and pristine white porcelain. Without legs or wheels, it can only drag itself forward with the hoses, leaving deep furrows in the ground behind it where its weight tears up dirt and pavement alike. Resembling nothing more than an enormous mechanized toilet, the creature rampages free out into the streets of Central City. Most people run. One man, tie flapping in the wind, is caught by the hoses. The mecha’s lid opens, and he’s thrown inside, screaming until it slams shut, flushes, and he’s lost beneath. Only two people aren’t fleeing. One–a girl named Kelly–has stopped, confused, staring at the other. She frowns, uncertain what she’s looking at. The other is a young woman, dressed in a business casual top and loose skirt, half-moon glasses hiding bright blue eyes. She’s crouched by the sidewalk, knees spread, face screwed up and cheeks puffed out as she pushes. Noticing she has an audience, she puffs and grunts, “Do you–mind?” “Um…” Kelly says, distracted as another flushing bellow echoes a hundred feet away. “What are you doing?” The crouching woman shoots her a glare. “Pooping myself, what does it look like?” Kelly stammers a moment longer, then her attention is stolen. A hundred feet away, the mecha seizes a car and flings it with no particular aim–it skips and skids over the pavement, bouncing off a parked bus, and careens straight towards her. She can only stare, a deer caught in the headlights, until– Wham! A blur of pink interjects itself between her and the car. The vehicle stops, bouncing off like the tide against rocks. Standing where the car just hit, wielding a baby rattle with a head as large as a basketball and shield reminiscent of a pacifier guard, stands the woman–her glasses are gone, and her hair has billowed out into long pigtails, but he recognizes her anyways. She’s suckling a pacifier that matches her shield, and her clothes have vanished, replaced by a pink top and a skirt barely four inches long, doing nothing to hide the drooping diaper between her legs. “Who are you?” Kelly asks. Her eyes glow as she responds, floating slowly up from the ground with every word. Though she has a pacifier in her mouth, it makes her voice no less clear. “With the might in my Moonbeam Rattle, and the power of my Baby’s Guard, I am Starlight Boom-Boom–Champion of Earth!” She drops back down, stretching out her arms. “You should run.” “Did you–are you–” Kelly stammers. “Why’d you poop your pants?” “I had to fight,” Starlight replies, simply, before turning and lunging at the mechanized toilet. Rotating, the monster points one of its many hoses at Starlight, blasting her with a jet of water powerful enough to cut through steel beams. Starlight raises her shield, deflecting the blow, but the force of the aqua jet throws her back into a nearby hot dog stand and she collapses through it. She stands up, bloodied but–no, wait. She stands up, covered in ketchup but ready to get back into the fight. Kelly stares. The street has cleared, but she can’t help but watch as the poopy-pampered superheroine goes to battle with the colossal commode. She slips under its next water jet, dodges around a swipe, and yells out a shrill battle cry: “Massive Rattle Blow!” She brings her toy down on its porcelain body, sending a spiderweb of cracks across its body before jumping up and grabbing the toilet tank cover. She flips it over and dives inside, seizing the unfortunate businessman who’s sodden but still breathing. Setting him off on the sidewalk, she runs back towards the fray. Uninterested in her, the toilet drags itself forward, seizing another fire hydrant and pumping water away from the city, into itself. As it does, the hydration seals the cracks that Starlight just opened, healing from the damage she inflicted. Starlight leaps at it again, but this time, the monster is ready–a hose arm lashes out, seizes her immediately, and pounds her into the ground repeatedly, flinging her back and forth like a ragdoll. Her rattle goes flying, and she’s ultimately tossed aside, slumping against a nearby wall. “Starlight!” Kelly calls, running towards the , but before she can make it ten steps, Starlight is standing again, knees wavering. Kelly hesitates, stride catching, wondering aloud, “What is she…doing…oh.” With a blrrttch that echoes across the open city street, Starlight Boom-Boom fulfills her namesake, her diaper expanding to the size of a swollen beach ball beneath her absurdly short miniskirt. The mass stains her padding a deep brown and it falls with a fwump, drooping to the tops of her knees, but something in the act seems to energize her. She stands taller, if bow-legged, and extends her hand. Kelly catches the shucka-shucka sound and ducks as the rattle whizzes over her head, flying into Starlight’s hand. Reinvigorated, the heroine charges at the mecha again, moving so fast that she leaves blurred air and a faint green puff of smell behind her. “Lightning Potty Strike!” Expecting the fight to turn, Kelly watches, but it seems futile–every blow that Starlight rains down, the monster seems able to effortlessly heal, soaking up water from the city’s many fire hydrants. It continues wailing at her, jets of icy water and flailing hoses trying to swipe at the heroine, but though its many attacks miss, it just doesn’t seem to care–it continues dragging itself across Main Street, moving with purpose, tossing cars and ripping up hydrants in its wake. So, Kelly does something the heroine can’t–she turns and runs towards the Central City Research Institute. The smoke has mostly cleared by the time she picks her way through the broken wall. Inside is chaos–shards of broken toilets are everywhere, and shelves of toilet paper, tissues, and even golf balls have been strewn aside, making the space a tripping hazard to navigate. Beneath one of those racks, a man coughs, reaching out weakly. “Help…” Kelly runs to him. She’s not imbued with any super strength, and loading up her panties won’t help her do any heroic feats, but with a bit of grunting she lifts the shelf. “What is that thing?” “Forgive us,” the scientist stammers, crawling out on hands and knees. His faint German accent seems faded by time in the US, but still comes through ever so slightly. “We…we knew not the forces with which we meddled.” “I don’t understand,” Kelly says. “Why did you make this… thing?” “We were blinded by ambition,” he whispers hoarsely, fumbling to pick up his glasses from the ground. “We desired only to create the world’s most advanced toilet, but we pushed the limits of morality and science alike. Our hubris was our downfall–we taught it to fix itself, and to flush, but never morality.” Fearing at his words, Kelly asks, “What is it? What is it?” He swallows. “It’s the Potty Monster.” Grabbing him by the shoulders, Kelly demands, “Do you know what it wants?” Eyes huge behind thick glass, he can only speak the answer in a whisper, “Water.” Kelly understands. “The treatment plant–it’s going for the treatment plant?” “You must stop it,” he says, nodding quickly. “If it gets there, it’ll be unstoppable!” Kelly turns, running out into the street to warn Starlight, but she’s met quickly with a streak of pink and brown, soaring through the air and crashing into the dirt next to her. Starlight stands up, wiping away drool from her chin and under her pacifier guard, mumbling, “Meaniehead caught me napping–won’t happen again.” “It’s trying to get to the water treatment plant!” Kelly warns. “It’s using water to heal,” Starlight adds. “I can’t let that happen!” “What are you going to do?” Starlight turns pink. “Um…Could you not watch for this part? There’s not much left in the tank, but…erm…” Kelly nods, politely averting her gaze, though she can’t avert her sense of smell or turn off her ears. Starlight’s grunts of effort are obvious, trying to get out every last bit of muck, and the blrrrch and blorts rumbling in her diaper are hardly subtle. When Kelly looks back, the abused garment is so full and heavy it’s well past her knees, and Starlight’s steps squelch like she’s waddling through waist deep mud, but her stride seems to only have gotten quicker. Lunging forward into the air, she dives at the Potty Monster once again, crossing a full city block in a single smelly bound. Huffing and puffing, Kelly runs to the side of the street, unable to keep up with the super. After half a block, she gives up, resting her hands on her knees. “Too… much… running.” Two blocks down, Starlight brings her rattle down, swiping away. Where she hits, porcelain cracks and chips, shards scattering into the street, but water surges out of those cracks and heals them as quickly as she can deal damage. And, though she’s stronger and more agile, Starlight is weighed down, dragging her swollen diaper behind her. She evades, blocks, and parries the hoses and claws lashing out at her, readying for an almighty attack. “Ultimate! Tantrum! Forever!” Discarding her shield, she takes the rattle in both hands, raises it, and prepares to bring it down, but the intelligence behind the Potty Monster gets wise–lashing out from behind her where she can’t quickly see or react, and instead of going for an arm or a leg it grabs her by the diaper. Starlight swallows. “Oh, no–” Wham! The Potty Monster flings her down, so hard it leaves a crater in the pavement. Before she can stand, it strikes her again, knocking her against a brick wall, then seizes her by the leg and flips its seat up. Swinging her rattle wildly, she tries to bat away the claw holding her, but it grabs her with half a dozen more, rips under her skirt, and with a loud, splorchy, fwump, her diaper falls off and lands inside the toilet. The seat slams shut, and with a floosh, Starlight’s power is flushed away. Her outfit bursts into light, and her weapons vanish. Now harmless, the woman is tossed aside, thrown into a row of hedges out in front of a cafe. She stands, staggering, trying to fight again, but her strength is gone, and even when she balls up her face and tries to push, nothing comes out. “Starlight!” Kelly calls, pedaling furiously on a borrowed bike to catch up to the . “Are you okay?” Starlight looks at her, terrified and helpless. “I can’t–it changed my diaper! I can’t fight!” Ditching the bike, Kelly runs up to her. “Can’t you go again? Just…go on yourself, like before?” Shaking her head, Starlight lifts her skirt to show that her stained panties have returned. “I’m…empty. Can’t keep going.” “Gotcha.” Kelly looks around. “Then…is there someone else? We can’t let the Potty Monster reach the treatment plant.” “There’s…” Starlight hesitates. “Er, there’s one way.” Kelly nods. “What? Do you need something?” Reaching into her blouse pocket, Starlight hands Kelly a chocolate bar wrapped in aluminum foil. “Eat this. The whole thing.” “Okay,” Kelly says, acting on impulse–there was no time to question. Chomping down on the bar, she chews and swallows. “What was that?” “Laxative,” Starlight explains, producing a small pacifier clip from her purse. “Clip this to your shirt.” “L–laxative?” Kelly says with a start, blinking. Starlight just shakes her head. “Hurry.” Kelly pins on the clip, nodding. “And?” “Congratulations, you’re a temporary member of the Boom Boom force,” Starlight explains. “Pick a name, and then…squat down.” “Oh,” Kelly says, realizing. She feels her tummy gurgle, the laxatives already working their way down in her system. “Um…name. Name… how about just ‘Mega’? That’s got a classic feel to it.” “Alright.” Starlight pats her on the head, in something between a gesture of affection and a knighting. “I pronounce you Mega Boom-Boom.” Blinking and shaking her head, Kelly starts to say, “Wait, I get the last name too? But–” Before she can finish her thought, the laxatives kick in, and she feels her panties suddenly swell with an impossible tidal wave of mush. And, in that same moment, she changes. Her hair doubles in length, braiding itself into pigtails, and her outfit vanishes–fabric transmuting in seconds from pants and a t-shirt to a billowy, heavily laced green dress that only comes down slightly further than Starlight’s skirt, white frills keeping the hem line poofy. And, of course, her panties changed too, thickening, becoming absorbent, becoming protective enough to deal with the sudden catastrophe between her legs. The expanding mess pours out of her, bloating her diaper until it’s at least as impressive as Starlight’s had been; a mud bath taped around her waist. Above all, though, she suddenly felt strong. Powerful, surging with adrenaline like she’d never experienced. “Do I get a weapon?” she asked, noting her empty hands. “Pick one,” Starlight says. “Name it, and it’ll come to you.” “Okay,” Kelly says, the mudslide into her diaper ceasing. Turning, she says, “I already know what I want.” With that, she dashes forward, kicking off the pavement so hard it left a pothole. Crossing a city block in a single bound, leaving a stink trail in her wake, Kelly–Mega Boom-Boom–soars at the back of the Potty Monster, hand outstretched. It was only a block away from the treatment plant now–too close. “My weapon is–” she calls out, grabbing the top of the tank, “A plunger! In her hands, a plastic and rubber tool as long as she is tall, with a plunging head two feet wide, appears. Suddenly full of terror, the Potty Monster shrieks, hoses lunging at Mega, but she bats them away, wielding the plunger like a polearm. One hose manages to whack her on the butt and she tumbles forward, landing on the seat, but with a thrust she sticks the plunger head to the toilet seat and–with a handhold to grab onto–she flips back into the air. And, coming to her as naturally as breathing, she identifies the names of her attacks in the same breath that she unleashes them. “Suction Love Strike!” she calls, using the leverage to pry the lid open, though the Potty Monster fights her. Whipping around and grabbing the open lid with a free hand, she keeps it open, raises her plunger, and thrusts it down into the Potty Monster’s open bowl. “You’ve gone far enough!” The monster shrieks and sloshes, water backing up suddenly as her plunger seals the hole, preventing any water flow. Its hoses try to spray her, but they fizzle out without pressure and hiss harmlessly at her, water trickling from the nozzles. “Mega Plunge Forever!” Squatting so low her diaper touches the rim, Mega Boom-Boom ensures her plunger isn’t going anywhere, then lunges up, driving her fist into the porcelain of the Potty Monster. It cracks thunderously, and this time, though it shrieks and tries to bat her away, nothing heals the wounds. Raising up her free hand, a hairbrush large enough to serve a pizza on appears, a secondary weapon for which only one move could be possible: “ONE THOUSAND SPANKS JUSTICE!” Bringing down the flat of the brush, she unleashes an infinity of lightning attacks. Blow after blow, raining down spanks against porcelain that can no longer repair itself. In desperation, the Potty Monster drags itself towards the water treatment plant entrance, but Mega stops it once and for all. Jumping up, she hits the handle, and with a floosh, water floods into the bowl, and with nowhere else to go, starts spilling over the top. Drained of its power and energy, the Potty Monster shrieks, shudders, and stops. With a final, almighty blow, Mega Boom-Boom leaps up, brings her messy, diapered butt down in a finisher move, and blasts the potty into porcelain powder. In the debris, all that’s left is a small terminal and an array of wiggling hoses, disconnected from the monster’s body. Mega picks up the terminal, turning it over in her hands. ‘Property of Central City Research Institute’, it read, written on the side in white marker. ‘Proprietary–if found, return to Doctor Stein Von Kindchen.’ She looks around. Overhead, news helicopters have their cameras directed at her, and from the surrounding buildings, civilians come out to see if the coast is clear. Diaper on full display, stained and smushy, Mega Boom-Boom blushes. From the side of the street, though, Starlight limps towards her. “You did it.” “I did,” Mega says. “My face–I don’t look any different, even if my clothes–” “Don’t worry,” Starlight promises, stepping up and squeezing her hand. “Nobody will recognize you. I can help you change, that’ll return you to normal.” Mega smiles, a bit of Kelly shining through. “Thanks.” Nodding to the terminal, Starlight asks, “Doctor Stein von Kindchen? Who’s that?” Looking down, Mega Boom-Boom crushes the terminal in her hands, destroying the research once and for all. “Just someone who needs to work on his Potty Training.” ... I hope you had fun with this creative indulgence in tropey, shlocky, stinky fun! If you want to support my writing and get early access, bonus content, and my gratitude, you can do so here! Or if you'd rather do SubscribeStar instead of Patreon - the services are the same, so it's down to platform preference - click here!

"So I'll have a venti mocha latte with oat milk, a shot of strawberry flavor, and extra whip cream. Also, a tall black coffee with one cream," the blond haired boy said, smiling at the short, brown haired barista that stood behind the counter. "Oh, and my name's Alex, and she's Kacey." The Starbucks was almost empty that day. It was a grey day, cool for the summer, and few wanted to brave the inevitable rain. However, the weather that kept people out made it perfect for hot drinks, and that drew latte addicts in like flies. This particular one, in the center of a book store, combined two of their rainy day loves. "Ok, who gets the coffee and who gets the strawberry chocolate milk thing?" the barista asked. "Ummm... I..." Kacey came beside him and put her hand on his shoulder. "He gets the strawberry drink. I get the coffee." "Ok!" The barista said, and left to make the drinks. "Did you have to say that?" Alex asked the red haired girl who was clinging to his shoulder. "Yep! If your going to order something like that, the world will know." "Alex! Happy almost-birthday!" "What?" Alex said. It was Bill, a friend of his from work. He was a tall man, broad shouldered, and wore a long rain coat. He had come in while they were waiting. "I said happy almost-birthday!" Alex cocked his head to the left. "How did you know it was almost my brithday?" "Uhhh..." he said. His eyes darted to Kacey, then back at Alex. "Facebook." Alex looked suprised. "Huh. I thought I had removed that from Facebook. How weird. He turned back to the counter, unaware of Kacey glaring at Bill. "So how you doing anyway Alex? Funny to run into you here," Bill said. "Well you know I..." He was interrupted by the appearance of the barisa. "Alright I have a venti strawberry mocha made with oat milk and extra whip cream for Alex." She handed him the drink. Alex blushed. "Uhhh I think you mean a coffee. Dark coffee. NO cream or sugar." "No it was definitely a venti strawberry mocha made with oat milk and extra whip cream." Alex shook his head and looked at Bill. "No it was definitely a coffee. Your strongest kind." The barista leaned onto the counter top. "Alright. I tell you what. I'll go get you that coffee, the strongest kind we have, with no sugar or milk, but I get to see you drink it. Right here in front of us, no leaving to throw it out when your gone, no coming back in for your sugary drink." Alex stared at her considering his options. Kacey snickered beside him. "Just give me the #($@-ing strawberry mocha." ... Kacey was laughing out loud as the walked in through their front door. "OOOO LOOK AT ME I"M ALEX! I ONLY DRINK THE STRONGEST COFFEE SINCE I"M BIG AND STRONG!" she said, doing her best to imitate her voice. "Unless no one is watching then I only want my warm choccy milk." Their home was a small suburban townhouse. It was older then most but still strong, and they had repainted the walls of the main floor in deep blues and dark colors, then furnished it with wood and and simple couches. A door in front of them lead to their stair well, and on the top floor the colors began to get brighter and more vibrant, and the furniture shifted from classy to comfy. The ground floor was the 'mature' floor they showed to visitors, the top was more for them. Alex was hanging his head as he sipped his drink. "Yeah yeah yeah," he said. "So, how did he know it was my birthday soon? I don't remember mentioning it to anyone at work." Kacey paused. "Ummmm well you know how these things are. Someone hears something then they tell another then it passes to two more, and suddenly everyone knows. Its common knowledge. Everyone knows each others birthdays." "What is your uncles birthday?" She looked to the side, thinking. "November 31st?" "That's not real. There are only thirty days in November," Alex said, while going over the rhyme in his head and counting on his fingers. "December first then." "Ahh, that makes sense." He stripped off his coat, and began to take off his shoes. He was going along with it, but seemed unconvinced. "Anyway, its a big birhday for you. Afterall it is your thi.." "Twenty-seventh? You are right, that is a big one," he replied. She folded her arms. "Twenty-seventh? I could have sworn we had that a few years ago." "Well you were mistaken. I'm turning 27." He looked up at Kacey, who was standing still."What are you doing?" he asked. "Why aren't you getting undressed?" "I need to go," she said quickly, looking out the door. Alex stood up and looked out. "What for?" "Uhhh... Coffee." "We just got coffee." "I mean, copy. I need to make copies of something for work." "Oh." Alex put his hand on his chin. "Can't you just do that with our printer here?" "No. They need to be better. You know, professionally done. Glossy and all that." "Ok, should I come to help?" "NO! I mean, no, its for work. You stay here and, ummm... video games." She pointed up the stairs, toward their bedroom where they kept their gaming systems. Alex turned to where she was pointing. "You are actually telling me to go upstairs and play video games? Why?" "Why not?" she asked. "Don't you want to play video games?" Alex paused and thought. "Yeah I do." "Good! Then go!" She turned around to leave, then paused and turned back. "Oh wait! Remember to wear headphones! Bye! Love you!" That being said, she turned and ran out the door before Alex could ask anything more. Alex waved. "Love you too." He watched her run to the car, quickly open the door and get in, then drive away. "That was odd, I wonder why she was acting that way? Why specify headphones?" He thought for a second, then shrugged. "Ah well. Video game time!" He walked up the stair well to their bedroom. It was painted blue, and with cabinets and shelves built around a large king sized bed. There was a TV screwed into the wall in front of the bed with their gaming systems underneath it, but Alex ignored it for a moment. Instead, he walked to a single white door that lead to their closet and opened it. He pushed aside their hanging shirts and dresses until he found what he was looking for. A large, brown plastic box with a sealed green lid, which he unlocked and opened. "There we go," he said, staring at the packages of diapers inside. ... "Ok, quick. We only have a few minutes," Kacey said to the gathered crowed. She knew most of them, and most of the ones she didn't she had at least seen in Alex's photos or facebook pages. There was Bill from Alex's work, who they had run into earlier, then Tim from his university days, then Sarah who he knew through her, and more. It was all their friends, gathered for one reason. "So the plan is to enter the house as quietly as possible, holding the packages and balloons. I'll text him to come down, and we will shout "Surprise" as he does. He'll probably be playing video games with his headphones, so it should work." "You don't think he'll notice a crowd of people entering his home?" Bill asked. Kacey scoffed. "Please. Fuck no. When he's playing video games that guy wouldn't noticed a crowed of rhinoceroses entering his home." They all laughed and agreed. "Well we shouldn't have any problems then," Bill said. "Of course not," Kacey replied. "Unless..." A thought came to her head. He was home alone, just relaxing and having fun... her eyes went wide. Would he? She had only been gone a few minutes, but he did just get home, and its not like he was rare. She went through scenarios in her head, trying to think of a way she could avoid it without warning him. She got out her phone and texted him. "I'll be home soon! Want to go to the movies? I figure we can have 'fun' times tonight after, if you are down for that ;)" she sent him. Hopefully he'd see it, decide to stay in normal clothes for the movie, and be willing to put off any 'other' things until later. She told herself it would work, and prayed she was right.

New story! It's been a while since we released anything, but this has been one of our favorites to write. We hope you all enjoy it! Special thanks to @Selpharia, who commissioned it. Full PDF and ePub versions are available on our Patreon! ------------------------------------------------------------ Enthralled By Sophie & Pudding *Commissioned by Selpharia 1.) A Woman in Red I pulled the skirt down and looked shyly around the club. This was so not my scene. But Meg told me ten times today that we needed to go out and do something fun. Why did people think loud music and flashing lights was fun? I went to the bar and ordered a shot of rum. I was only twenty years old, but this place didn't check my ID on the way in. Meg said that was because of my outfit: a pleated mini skirt, neon pink fishnet stockings, and a low cut crop top. Honestly, I never thought of my breasts as a worthwhile commodity: there wasn't much there. "You're trying so hard to fit in, it almost convinced me you wanted to be here." Her breath smelled like rum - bottom shelf, ordered by type and not brand, vaguely valued only for its alcoholic content. Mine by comparison smelled like peppermint lipgloss, and my skin caught the lights in an almost artificial way. "Dance with me?" "Oh, uh... I don't really dance." But the woman in front of me was... remarkably beautiful. Ivory skin with warm red hair. Painted lips. Tall - taller than me - and breasts that brought envy to the forefront of my mind. All of her was wrapped up in a tight black dress. She looked too fancy for a night club. "Once upon a time, every person who was the best at something had never done it before. Tonight, you dance." I took her by the hand, my nails tipped in pretty glossy color, with depth to the shades of purple that was almost impossible to look away from. I watched her fixation on my fingers as I held her hand, and spoke to her softly. "You can look at them all you like, while we dance." I wasn't a dancer. I never had been. I didn't have any rhythm and I couldn't time my movements. Let alone know what movements to perform. Wasn't I supposed to shake my ass on her crotch? But the woman was very old-fashioned. She took my hands in hers and moved back and forth, leaning into one side, then the other with a magical fluidity. My cheeks went pink. "I told you I wasn't very good," I muttered, watching her hands in mine. She wouldn't be able to hear me over the music. I heard her just fine, and I smiled at her like a parent smiles to a child's finger painting , and I whispered in her ear. "Watch my fingers, follow your heart, the rest comes easily." The music wasn't made for this kind of dancing, but once she did what she was told, the tarted up little strumpet wouldn't even hear the music anyway. The room fell away from us. It was just her and me, in the darkness. I could see her as clear as day. Gorgeous. Beyond gorgeous. I wasn't sure when the song ended or if we'd been through ten or twenty of them. Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I looked up at Meg with starry eyes. "Oh... hi. Um. We were just... dancing..." I turned back to my date. I hadn't even caught her name... "I'll see you tomorrow night," I told her. I put my hand on her cheek and smiled at her. "Order a mint julep and I'll find you at the bar at 9:30 sharp." I didn't give her a chance to say no. She'd show up, she didn't have a choice, her answer didn't matter. Her eyes tracked my fingers as I pulled them away and slipped into the crowd. Meg watched her best friend and rolled her eyes. "Wow, what a fucking creeper.” "Yeah... totally..." Meg and I took a cab home. But no matter what I did that night, I couldn't stop thinking about that girl... * * * * * "You're going back to the club?" Meg couldn't believe it. It took her hours of begging, pleading, whining, moping, bribing, coercing, to get her best friend to leave the house last night. And that was a Friday! Today was a Saturday, and on Saturday nights, Pippy stayed up all night playing dumb video games. But here she was, picking through her closet. "You are NOT telling me it's about that girl." "What? No. Of course not." I didn't have club clothes. I'd worn Meg's yesterday, but my ego wouldn't let me ask to borrow something else, not after the fight I put up yesterday. "I liked dancing more than I thought. And I feel all wound up. I'm just stopping by for an hour or two and I'll be home in no time." "Alright. I just… you know what? Have a good time." Meg smiled weakly, looking at her best friend’s computer that wasn't even switched on, before shaking out her worries. What was the worst that could happen? A little social interaction would be good for Pippy. * * * * * "Right on time. Punctuality is such an attractive trait, isn't it?" I sipped from her drink, enough that she'd be able to taste me on the straw, and pressed the cup between her hands, clasping my fingers around hers. "Finish your drink, dearest. There's a long night ahead." The drink was strong; stronger still for the fact she'd be taking my essence between her lips with each sip. "So. Um. I didn't catch your name." I knew how alcohol worked. I knew every sip made her more beautiful. But damn, today it worked like a charm. I hadn't even finished my drink and I was thinking about taking her out of that tight red dress. A gorgeous, haunting red. She could make anything look good. "You didn't ask, so you couldn't have caught it." I explained to her with the littlest smile, a tugging at the corner of my lips. She was looking up at me with adoration and admiration, she was lost in the moment and lost in me. "I'm Bailey, and you're so pretty when you're so flush, blood warm beneath your cheeks." I ran my fingers over her cheek and smiled. I leaned into her hand on instinct. She took me by the wrist and pulled me - with no resistance - to the dance floor. I had never been with a woman before, though the thought had occurred to me. But even then as we danced, I was swimming in fantasies of her. Bailey. Even her name sounded gorgeous. Pippy was intoxicated, barely by the drink and entirely by me. She had to touch me, she had to feel me, she had to be close to me and hear the sound of my pulse. Her eyes chased my fingers - the fixation I'd given her only last night - and we danced with one of my hands on her hip and the other palm pressed to her cheek. I longed to taste her. I fumbled out of the club with my hand in hers, giggling. I only had one drink, but it felt like I'd had ten. The street spun beneath my feet. Everything amused me. But Bailey was always there, so close, so comforting... I cuddled up to her arm and pushed my cheek to hers. Oh, she was cold! "Sorry," I muttered. "I woulda given you a jacket if I brought one..." "We'll just have to share body heat, then, won't we?" I opened the back seat of the Bentley in the parking lot, the two rows facing each other limousine style, with a dark screen preventing any contact with the driver. Actually, the windows were so tinted it was hard to see if there even was a driver. I settled in and pulled her into my lap, like she weighed nothing more than a doll. She was delightful. I hoped she was delicious. The door closed and we were kissing. My lips on hers. Glossy. Cold. Passionate. I wrapped my arms around her neck and leaned into her, sitting sideways on her lap, like she were a stallion and I was her princess. Every kiss made me feel warmer, but each one only made her feel colder. Finally, a shiver ran down my spine and I broke our kiss. "Gosh, you don't wanna put the heat on or something...?" "You're so warm; why would I want a machine’s heat when I can have yours?” I didn't think I could wait much longer. I needed to have her. She blushed, and I directed her face with my fingers, I raised her neck up. It was time. She kissed my jawline, under my ear, tilting my head up at an angle. Her fingers made their way under my shirt, against my bare back, and into the waistband of my tight jeans. I was aroused. I was needy. I had never felt so intoxicated by anyone in my entire life, and I knew it was time. It had been so long... There was a lot that could have happened in that moment; I could’ve bled her dry, I could’ve left her dead. I could have left her empty, a bare shell. Or I could take this crimson beauty and make her mine, at the cost of something. Pippy needed so much to be loved, to have affection, guidance, I could feel it. She was going to make such a good thrall. She was so delicious, I knew it even before my teeth broke her skin. When they did, I wasn't disappointed. At first, there was nothing but pressure. It didn't hurt, but it was unlike anything I'd ever felt. Then, my body felt tingly and warm. Stars appeared at the edge of my vision. I felt my fingers slip off her shoulders. But as my body started to shut down, my arousal didn't fail me. I was so turned on, and as each second passed, there was less and less I could do about it... My fingers slid inside her jeans the same time my fangs slid into her neck. As I took her freedom, I knew what she was feeling: an obedient, sensual connection. I pressed my hand to the front of her panties; they would be at the ground zero for her first sign of change. I quivered and fell into Bailey, but she held me tight with her lips to my neck. Things started to feel hot. I couldn't move. I couldn't fight. The arousal had peaked. My body twitched and my mind was filled with a rush of endorphins. And then a warm stream started to fill my tight jeans, dribbling onto Bailey's lap. I had to hold her, I had to guide her face into my lap. And even though she covered my hand in her wetness, I kept my hand down her jeans and I played with her hair. Right now she was bonding; like a mosquito, I put in when I took out, and her body was assimilating that. Her brain was awash with it. Flooded with conflicted feelings, new information: she knew that she belonged to me now, on the most primal level. And right now it might have only been minor, right now it might have only been the most subtle inclination, but these feelings she was taking onboard now would get stronger any time I fed from her. This was her foundation. This was who she was now. I danced my pretty nails in front of her glossy eyes, caught her focus, and slipped my thumb between her lips. The car was moving now. I woke up on bench of the car, alone. My head was foggy. I'd had too much to drink, I reminded myself, but I only ever had that one glass. I shifted to sit up and felt an unfamiliar dampness. Had I spilled something? But when I sat upright, when I looked at the seat, it was undeniable. The wet leather. The huge dark patch between my legs, spread around to my hip, and down the pants... I pissed myself. My cheeks caught fire. Had anyone noticed? Had she noticed? Bailey. My mind raced. I looked around in a panic, but she was nowhere to be found. The door opened, as though there was a doorman outside the car, waiting to let her out. But nobody was there. Maybe he'd gotten back into the driver’s seat already. Outside the sun looked like it was threatening to come up, to crest the horizon, and there were the familiar sounds of the college apartments outside. Pippy knew she was near home. I ducked out of the Bentley and looked around the quiet early-morning street with confusion. Where had Bailey gone...? What had happened last night? But right in front of me, I could see my campus apartment. I took one more look around and hurried home. I had to change out of these pants before Meg saw me... I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. The marks on my neck were surreal. They reminded me of vampire bites, like from movies or books or something. Symmetrical, identical, side by side on my neck. Was it some fetish she had? I ran my fingers over the light bruises around the punctures and felt a tingling sensation in my fingertips. Butterflies filled my stomach. Warm, familiar, exotic. My cheeks turned pink and I shook the thoughts away. After a shower, dressed in fresh pajamas, I collapsed on my bed and fell instantly asleep.

‘Juvenile’. That’d been the word she’d used when we broke up. There’d been other words, too, of course–she was nothing if not a wordsmith, and she found many other creative nouns, verbs, and adjectives to describe what she thought of me. ‘Leering’, ‘Immature’, ‘Inattentive’, ‘Psychologically and pathologically unfaithful’. I probably should have seen the red flags a lot sooner. A coffee meetup with my sister had turned into an argument with her, because she’d mistaken it for cheating. A compliment directed towards a cashier had led to the silent treatment for most of a day. But, for all the jealousy and insecurity I’d put up with, she dumped me, and she called me juvenile. That’s the bit I couldn’t get out of my head–the sheer lack of self awareness. I couldn’t so much as breathe around another woman without getting into trouble. And sure–I was known to occasionally admire female beauty, I wouldn’t deny that, but I’d done nothing to deserve what she did to me. Because out of all that, the biggest red flag was that she claimed she knew how to curse people. I’d brushed off the comment, at the time–I’d known some witchy girls in college, it was just a turn of the phrase, right? Like ‘manifesting’ as another word for having a positive outlook. I didn’t expect–let me just tell you what happened. So we’d broken up. She’d dumped me, to be precise, in public, with lots of yelling. I’d been pretty upset about it, so I moped around at my apartment for a couple days. Nothing too strange so far. But then, when I finally dragged myself out of my apartment, planning on maybe getting some groceries, just getting some air–it happened. I was in line at the register. The cashier girl asked me how my day was, I told her it was getting better, and then–I swear to god, this has never happened to me since I was like a little kid, but I felt something hot rushing down my pants. I looked down, and then she snorted with laughter, and by the time I realized I was pissing myself I’d already started making a puddle. I want to be clear–I hadn’t felt any need to go before this point. None at all. It’d come completely out of the blue. One moment, I was talking to a pretty cashier, the next, puddle pants. So I did the reasonable thing–excused myself, carried my grocery bags in front of my waist on the walk home, wrote it off as a fluke. A fluke, right? No chance of that repeating. So the next day. I’m riding the bus to work, I notice this girl’s reading a book I’ve read before–a book I love, really. So I step forward, and I’m about to say hi, and then–wham. I feel it again. Now this time, I’m on a bus. I can’t just get off, I’m stuck there. And to make matters worse, I still need to get to work on time, so it’s not like I can just bail and go home. I got off a stop early, enormous wet stain down my pants, and had to run into a corner gas station and try to clean myself up in the bathroom. It half worked, but no amount of paper towels got things totally dry, and the lingering pee smell didn’t go away all day. I don’t know if anyone in the office noticed that morning; they certainly didn’t say anything, but I don’t know how you wouldn’t notice. But they definitely noticed at lunch. I was chatting up Sheila, the receptionist, and… Well, come on. You’ve figured out the pattern by now, haven’t you? Like five words in, my pants are soaked, everyone in the break room could absolutely see. I thought I was going to die. It’s one thing when it’s a bunch of strangers, but I’d just let loose in front of coworkers, people I’d known for years, and there’d been zero warning. Nada. Not a hint. And then I remembered my ex, warning me about her little ‘curse’. No other possibilities came to mind. I hadn’t accidentally swallowed a handful of diuretics or hit my head really hard or anything. It had to be whatever she’d done. So, while I was hiding in the work bathroom trying to figure out what to do, I texted her. No response. Of course. Nothing when I called, either. She’d blocked me on everything. I had no way to reach her. I took the rest of the day as a personal day, said I was making an appointment with my doctor. What was I supposed to do? Explain how I’d been cursed by a jealous ex? I tried getting in touch with some of her friends, the ‘spookier’ ones who’d seemed to know what she was talking about when she mentioned magic, but that didn’t get me anywhere. I tried Google, but that was a complete dead end. There really was no solution, but to deal with it, and that’s how I ended up at the pharmacy. Magic or no, I wasn’t stupid. I made sure to pee as soon as I arrived, so my bladder was totally empty. There wouldn’t be any embarrassing accidents at the diaper store, while I was actually buying the damned things. I circled the incontinence aisle twice, trying to be discreet, hoping nobody would see me. I had to spend a couple minutes looking over different packaging to figure out the sizing and which brand would work best for my…problem. Another consultation on the internet made it clear that most of the lighter options wouldn’t help, because they couldn’t handle a sudden flood of pee. While I wasn’t happy about having to pick one of the thickest options on sale, I felt glad that I hadn’t learned about the leakage problem through personal experience. Feeling a bolt of anxiety in the checkout line, I played a little deception to cover my tracks. Taking out my phone, I pretended to receive a phonecall, nodding along. “Hello, hi grandpa, yes I’m picking up your diapers now–I’ll bring them over in a minute!” There, that’d do it. Now everyone would know that these weren’t for me, I didn’t need diapers, and nobody around me would think I did. The cashier smirked as she got to my package, though she hid the expression quickly. She was cute–a couple years younger than me, and I could definitely see me and her together. I said hi, started to ask a question, and, well… It turned out, the curse didn’t care how recently I’d used the bathroom. My bladder spilled out into my pants anyways, a torrential flood that came from nowhere. What could I do? I turned pink, but I was actively in the middle of buying diapers–diapers that I’d just pretended weren’t for me. I paid, sheepishly apologized, and hurried to the single stall bathroom to try and clean myself up for the millionth time. After washing my jeans in the sink and drying them as best I could with paper towels, I turned my attention to the diapers. Clearly there was no putting this off. Sooner or later, I’d need to put them on. Ripping open the container, I turned one of the diapers over in my hands, examining it. I paused to peer at the instructions on the plastic package, then followed them as best I could while leaning against the wall. The diaper rustled poofily between my legs. I had to adjust the velcro-ish tapes a few times to get it where it felt snug without restricting motion, but that was barely a concern next to the bulk pressing my thighs apart. My jeans only sort-of fit over them. The wet denim stretched, but the bulge around the crotch was pronounced and plainly visible. Crud. I’d need to buy new clothes, too. It was a solution. Not a great one, but a solution. I dealt with the problem. New, looser jeans. I started bringing a backpack with me, so I could carry diaper changes. And pretty much every time I talked to a pretty girl, I’d flood my diaper and need to excuse myself to a bathroom. In the meantime, my quest for someone who could undo the curse continued, but to no avail. Nothing worked. I tried getting incense and some fancy candles, I tried ‘manifesting’ a reality where I wasn’t cursed, it all failed. Nobody I talked to could help. One, who seemed to know what was going on, simply refused. I hated it, but there wasn’t much I could do to solve the issue. I got used to it. Diaper changes were a part of my routine, something I just learned to handle. Occasionally, when I had to go and a bathroom would be inconvenient, I just used the diaper on purpose. A couple months passed. I’d learned to keep things discreet, and staying cooped up didn’t work for me–I needed socialization. My favorite club, a few blocks down from my apartment, felt like a comfortable place to go. I hadn’t been since the breakup, but my return had me hailed by friends who I knew from there. It was a good time. I had a couple drinks. I even started chatting up this girl, Ally, who I’d met a few years back. And sure, I soaked my diaper about as soon as the conversation started, but who cared? She didn’t notice. I was used to it. We got to talking. We’d made out a bunch a few months ago, back before the curse, and she still seemed interested–heck, I got the sense that she might be interested in more than just making out this time. I sent a complement her way. She replied in kind, suggesting she thought I looked good, and– And I learned that the curse was much, much worse than I thought. My body betrayed me. The slightly splorchy frrrr– that escaped me wasn’t too loud, but my expression couldn’t have been more of a betrayal. I mean, fuck me. I was paralyzed–what could I do? There I was, sitting at the bar, loading up my diaper like a dump truck. It swelled so much it made my pants sag, my face was so red it could have directed traffic, and though the diaper contained all the mush, it did ass all to hold in the smell. I stammered. I found a reason to excuse myself, and just ran out of the bar, waddling and squelching the whole way. Staying put and explaining myself wasn’t an option. The waddle home was humiliating. I was sure every stranger I passed could smell me, could see my pants sag from the overfull diaper I’d trapped myself in. And then my phone rang. It was her. I answered. “Why?” I demanded, stepping to the side of the sidewalk to speak to her. “I just know,” she explained. “Do you want it to end?” I nodded. Then I realized she couldn’t see me, and started to respond. But apparently she could see me, because she replied before I could say anything. “How many?” I knew the answer she wanted. I knew the consequences if I lied. “Three,” I conceded. Defeated. I’d lost. “Three times. Different girls.” “Three it is,” she said. “Once the time is up, you’ll get your control back.” “Just three days?” I asked, hope rising. No response. My stomach sank. “Weeks?” Nothing. “Years?” “Try not to forget your potty training,” she said. And then she hung up. ... 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I have always had such a rush of feelings and emotions at the thought of being tied up in front of others, to be embarrassed in public. Seeing somebody bound in a movie, and everybody just acting as if it is normal, or as the object of attention has always given me shivers and chills. I would place myself in their helpless place, and feel the helplessness in my mind. If I knew a tie up scene was going to happen in a movie I would quickly get up to go do something and watch the scene from around the corner, because I just knew if I watched it where others could see me, they would surely see inside me and know I wanted that in my heart of hearts. Today’s trip was planned ahead of time, with my good friend Sama. Sama knew exactly how I felt and what kinds of things got me worked up, because we were best friends, and she too had kinky desires, but was far more daring than I. It was not often I got up the courage to do something daring in public., so when I did we tried to go all out. I first dressed for the occasion fully. Sama arrived at my apartment on a nice spring day with two bags of ‘equipment’. She handed me one and told me to put on everything that was in the bag. When I was done I was to come out and show her, then she would complete my getup. I took the bag into my room and poured out the contents onto the bed. I grabbed the first item and held it up, it was a thick babyish diaper, for adults. I undressed, lay down on the bed and taped it snugly around my waist. It fit amazingly, and the soft material, the way it crinkled, and felt puffy was enough to get my heart pumping. I put on the while bodysuit next, it fit comfortably and held everything in place. Next in the bag was a pair of pink plaid, and short overalls, something a toddler might wear, but in my size. I slipped them up my legs and over the diaper, the material hugging my body in a comforting and loving embrace. For my feet I put on lace trimmed ankle socks and slipped my feet in my black mary janes. I put my long black hair in two buns toward the back, letting my bangs hang over my forehead. Taking a look in the mirror the image of a gothic baby peered back at me, I was cute as hell. Taking a deep breath I made my way into the living room to show Sama her handiwork. She squee’d with excitement, clapping her hands and making baby noises at me. “Time to complete the look” she affirmed as she opened her other bag. “Close your eyes until I tell you that you can open them.” I closed my eyes and wondered what was coming next. I felt a belt go around my waist, being threaded through belt loops on the overalls. Next I felt a soft and thick material being slid over my right hand and it was closed around my wrist. “Try to use your hand to grab my fingers,” she instructed. I reached my fabric enclosed hand and tried to grasp hers, but the thick fabric rendered my grip nearly nonexistent and left me with nothing but a soft and useless grip. “Perfect” she stated, “now let me get your other hand taken care of.” In no time my left hand was also enclosed and helpless. From this point on I was completely dependent on her. “Now, no movement, no sound, I have a few more things to do. First, go ahead and slip your hands in your pockets” she said. I did as instructed and felt her do something at my wrists where the mittens strapped on. “Ok, now try to pull your hands out of your pockets,” she instructed. I tried to do this simple task but found I could not do so, the wrist part of the mittens was attached to the belt. Every tug on my wrists was useless and did nothing more than to pull the outfit more snug around me. “Holy cow” I said, I cannot move them at all, my arms are essentially useless. “Go look in the mirror and see,” she said. “I walked toward the bathroom and gazed at the baby in the mirror. To any observer I just looked like I had my hands in my pockets, nothing more. “This is so effective” I started to say when I saw her come up behind me and in seconds I had a large pacifier strapped on my head. I opened my mouth to speak but only mumbles came out. The gag was large and effective. I mpphed at her, I couldn't go out gagged, that was way too obvious. She just laughed at my attempts at talking and reminded me that I could just wear a mask over. Covid was essentially gone where I lived but some people still wore masks, so shortly I had a gator mask around my lower face, which hid the gag effectively. “Shall we?” she asked. She grabbed my keys, her purse, and locked the door as we left. She guided me down the hall and to the front door of my building. I peeked out the front door and it looked clear, nobody in sight. Sama took my arm in hers and guided me out. Once we were outside she said “oh shoot, I forgot something in your place, brb.” She quickly ran inside and closed the door, leaving me locked outside, tied up, and helpless. I tried to make noises at her but there was nothing I could do. An older couple walked by and said hi from the sidewalk, I just sheepishly nodded my head.